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An endless expanse of glittering white sand stretched under the sliver of the moon of Hueco Mundo, dark, sticky streaks on the dunes congealing like shadows. The scattered remains of a shattered Zanpaktou littered the blood-streaked sand at Ichigo’s feet. The fringes of his shihakusho swirled around him, settling after the shunpo that left him standing over the man he hated most in the world. 
 
Blood glistened along the white edge of Tensa Zangetsu, cooling on the blade. Amber eyes regarded Aizen with calculated disbelief. His enemy’s reiatsu fluttered in his chest, the Hogyoku gleaming where his heart should have beat. The man laughed, the sound cut off by the blood pooling in his throat. Teeth stained dark, he smiled up at Ichigo in victory. “You understand now, don’t you, ryoka boy?”

Isolation. Despair. Power.

It had been so long since he called him that. Ichigo didn’t move, or otherwise react, watching the life fade from Aizen’s eyes. 
 
The monster, the shinigami,

the man

, that killed his friends, his family, was dead.

Finally

dead, and he could feel no joy. He gained all of this power to protect, but he had failed.
 
In the silence of Hueco Mundo, there was no sound but his own stilted breath, and the rush of blood in his ears. He thought it must be sad, that he would find himself understanding the monster that had stolen everything from him, in a moment that should have brought him solace. Was this the true price to pay for power? Aizen thought so.

“King.”

He turned his attention inward, eyes flicking down and to the right.

“Did it not occur to you that Aizen is dead?”

He snapped, hardly in the mood for mind games. “He’s definitely not

alive

.”

“The Hogyoku has rejected him.”

Ichigo stiffened in understanding. The Hogyoku had rejected its master, it had

rejected Aizen

. Which meant the Hogyoku had chosen a new master, and he was the only living soul for miles and miles.
 
He looked down at the small jewel in fear and comprehension. The pale light reflected off the smooth, cold surface suddenly seemed dark, sinister.
 
Aizen should have been invincible, but halfway through their fight, he’d stopped regenerating. He could pat himself on the back and say it was because his power was superior, but was that actually what had happened? He didn’t think so.
 
Crouched by the body, Aizen’s unseeing eyes made him nervous. He should revel in his death, but he just felt empty. Those chestnut eyes seemed almost kind, the mocking light he knew too well no longer reflected there. He didn’t want to look anymore. 
 
He reached for the Hogyoku instead and hesitated, his fingers lingering just a hair’s breadth from the surface.

Ichigo trembled. He could feel the Zanpakutou and Quincy spirits within him tense just as he did. Even touching the rock could change everything. Couldn’t it? 
 
From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to see his friends again. To see them laugh, smile without the burden of the war. 
 
His mindscape was achingly silent. 
 
This was his decision.
 
His fingers made contact with the stone, smooth, mirroring the chill of an unforgiving desert.
 
The darkness of Hueco Mundo exploded, consuming him, his deepest desire held close to his heart.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo’s dreams were awash in agony, both in his heart and in his veins. He felt like he was being ripped apart, seams shivering on the brink of no return, and then he was thrown back together. He didn’t have understanding, only the vampirish drain on his reiatsu, his entire being. It seemed to last for an eternity, this non-awareness, and suddenly...  It stopped.  Ichigo woke in a flurry of motion. He reacted without thinking, seizing the person he sensed hovering above him and switching their positions to throw them to the ground facedown. His foot was solidly between their shoulder blades, his hand on their wrist pulling their arm back at an uncomfortable angle. His mind finally caught up to his instincts. He blinked, breathing heavily through his nose, and assessed. “Tessai?” “Kurosaki-kun?” The man sounded confused, voice strained from the creaking tension Ichigo had on his shoulder. He abruptly let go, backing quickly into a corner. His skin felt too tight, his chest ached, and he felt painfully weak. He reached for his Zanpakuto on reflex, hand grasping nothing but air. His stomach bottomed out.  His already weakened reiatsu spiked in fear, struggling to come to grips with the sudden change in scenery and apparent lack of a weapon.  “Oy, King! Relax! We’re here, you’re jus’ in yer body.” His body? The thought bounced around his head, settling on a cold, well-known fact; His body died years ago... Tessai was on his knees, sweat beading on his face under the weight of his reiatsu, weakened or not. Ichigo hadn’t needed self-control for so long, it was odd to see someone react to his reiatsu at all. Falling back on neglected skills, Ichigo slowly reeled his power in, clamping down on it with more will than skill.  The shoji screen was thrown open with a snap, Ichigo’s eyes widening to the face of a man he hadn’t seen in years. “Ura-Urahara…” He was in a gigai that reflected his soul form, of course, he wouldn’t age, but he seemed younger, less beaten than he remembered. The room had washed over him in a flood of nostalgia, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it.  “Maaa, Kursosaki-san, if you keep moving around like that, you really will die.” He tipped his hat, his eyes slipping calculatingly from Tessai, back to him. Behind that look, Ichigo also saw confusion, something he might have missed if he hadn’t known him so well. As well as anyone could know Kisuke.  The shinigami had been confronted with something unexpected,  and that didn’t happen much. He shouldn’t have been able to overpower Tessai, not as he was, not in this body, and he knew secondhand that his reiatsu felt decidedly dark and oppressive. His younger self wouldn’t have that yet. Finally looking down at himself, he noted the bandages striping his chest. He felt shorter, he looked younger, lanky, less filled out. He felt like he'd been hit by a bus. He didn’t remember getting hit, this pain reminded him of- oh shit. He touched the healing wound, recalling Byakuya’s blade sinking into his chest, the glow of the senkaimon, watching Rukia’s back as she was whisked out of reach. This was a pain he would never forget. He looked up at Urahara, the look in his eyes startling the ex-captain. “They took Rukia, didn’t they? They took the Hogyoku.” Urahara reacted without thinking for once, so startled to hear the name of the one creation he regretted most, from the lips of someone who should know nothing about it.  Benihime was drawn and in shikai, leveled at Ichigo’s heart in an instant. “How do you know that name?” The usual cheer in his voice was gone, replaced by something cold and deadly.  
“Tread lightly Ichigo, your powers are still weak from the drain of the Hogyoku. If he decides to, he could very well kill you.”
 
I know, ossan.
 Ichigo chose his next words carefully. “Because I used it. This is going to sound...impossible. I’m from...I’m from the future.” He cringed at how stupid that sounded, but there was no explaining away the pain in his chest. He’d just wanted to see them again, he didn’t think this would happen. Maybe he should have known better. No one could bring back the dead. Not really.  Kisuke looked deeply skeptical, but lowered his Zanpakuto. He didn’t sheath it, the flux of angry and distressed reiatsu drawing Yoruichi to the doorway to investigate.  Ichigo felt the same, it was his body that felt off, and he knew his theory was right before he opened his mouth. “I can prove it.” He gestured tiredly at the cane. “Knock me out of my body.” Kisuke didn’t move, clearly still lost in his own thoughts and suspicions. If he was a threat, knocking him out of his body would be a poor move. Ichigo was asking the man to trust him, something the shopkeeper struggled with on his best day. “ Kisuke .” The former captain met his eyes, confused by the uncharacteristic tone and familiarity. He sealed Benihime, lifting the cane to his heart, and shoved .  Ichigo’s soul was forced free of his body, the lightness and ease of that first breath as a soul was more of what he was used to. He caught himself under the arms before he hit the ground, surprised to find that tug to return to his body wasn’t as strong as he recalled it being. He laid his body down gently, surprisingly unprepared to see his body from the outside again, especially when he was so young. His young reflection looked less tired, less tense. Ichigo straightened slowly and looked back up at Kisuke, knowing what he’d see. He was older than he should be, 27, if he remembered right, and a few inches taller. His hair was longer, reaching down to his shoulders, and now that he was back in a form he was comfortable with, he held himself with an air of confidence. As was usual for him, he was always in shikai, and it was different from anything Kisuke might have been able to expect. Shoulder guards were held in place in an x pattern over his chest, his left shoulder guard flooded with red scales. The trench knife at his waist and the sword on his back were a familiar, comforting weight.  He lifted a hand to the hilt of the trench knife out of habit; Kisuke was a dangerous man, if he determined him to be a threat, he wasn’t going down without a fight. The last time Ichigo had seen him, his arms had been wrapped around Yoruichi––the flat look in his eyes, the blood on his face; her blood––he shook off the memory before it could take root. Kisuke didn’t take his eyes off of Ichigo, but some of the tension drained from his shoulders after a moment, coming to a conclusion. “Maaa, Kurosaki-san, that’s a sad face. What could have happened, I wonder, to make you look like that?” Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “It’s just...been awhile since I saw you.” He looked over at the black cat sitting in the doorway. “Or Yoruichi.” Kisuke lifted his hand to his hat, gesturing to the front room. “It sounds like you have a lot to explain.” He wasn’t giving Ichigo room to say no. His eyes shifted to Tessai. “Take care of Kurosaki-san’s body.” Tessai stiffened. “Yes, sir!” Ichigo walked past Kisuke, aware of how the shopkeeper kept his guard up. The ex-captain wanted him to walk first, he wasn’t going to turn his back to him. Yoruichi hopped up to Kisuke’s shoulder, still silent, her eyes narrowed in interest. She seemed less wary than Kisuke, but far more curious.  Ichigo knew his way to the sitting room, putting his back to a wall before he sat down on the cushion. His mind racing to catch up to the present… past. What should he tell them? It would have been immediately obvious he wasn’t the same Ichigo they knew, especially once his reiatsu was back to normal. Not to mention, Kisuke was smart, painfully so. Even if he left things out, it’s likely he would suspect that he had, or outright guess.  Kisuke sat across from him, a thoughtful frown on his face. “How about you start from the beginning.”  The beginning? It was all so jumbled now, he wasn’t sure where his story started. “Ahhh...well, I know everything you’ve been keeping from me, I think. I know about Aizen, you and Soul Society, my dad…” He trailed off, lost in the prospect of seeing his father again. His family . He’d killed Aizen, he’d killed him what felt like moments ago. Everyone was gone, and now they weren’t, so why did it hurt so much? He dropped his head in his hands, pressing his palms to his eyes. He choked on a sob, struggling to beat back the feelings that were spilling over in his heart. He hadn’t let himself mourn anyone, and now he had no reason to, so why didn’t his heart understand? Kisuke’s voice was gentle and tinged with worry. “Kurosaki-san?” He knew that tone, he knew it and it hurt. This Kisuke knew him as a sixteen year old teenager, he didn’t know him as a man, he hadn’t fought beside him as an equal, suffered loss with him. He was nearly a stranger. He hadn’t realized that while he was gaining a chance, he would also be losing so much.  He felt a familiar tug on his reiatsu, one he’d long since stopped fighting, and heard a dark, echoing voice behind him. “Get out.” Ichigo dropped his hands to see Kisuke was on his feet, guard raised. “Ah, hollow-chan, isn’t this my shop?” His voice held strained cheer, his sword half drawn, and Yoruichi was bristling on his shoulder, claws digging in. Eyes wet with tears, Ichigo put some steel behind his voice. “ Zangetsu ! It’s fine.”  His Zanpakutou didn’t seem reassured, nor did he seem inclined to return to his inner world. After a long, tense moment, the hollow backed off. He leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Che.”  He knew the hollow was just trying to protect him, but it was only making the situation worse, and marginally more embarrassing. Ichigo, sole victor of the winter war, breaking down, crying in a candy shop. It was a bit worse than that, but making light of it helped him get himself under control. He rubbed his eyes, trying to hide the evidence when it was already too late. Yoruichi spoke up first, her curiosity finally getting the best of her. “Ichigo, who is this?” He didn’t know Yoruichi in this timeline, but he was fairly certain she’d been following him for weeks.  “This is my inner hollow. He’s also my Zanpakutou.” He saw the blank look on their faces. That wasn’t something they heard every day. He looked at Kisuke, his tone incredulous. “Ever heard of the shattered shaft?”  Recognition lit up his face. “It worked?” Ichigo could see their doubts evaporating like a puddle in the sunshine. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.” The bite in his hollow’s voice wasn’t quite as sharp as it usually was. He was unsettled, concerned. Ichigo could see the genius running through the ramifications of this, and he let him, waiting for the question. “Kurosaki….” he began slowly, “how far into the future are you from? Why did you come back?” Ichigo let out a controlled breath. “Eleven years. Give or take.” He paused, and he could feel the tension from his Zanpakutou grow as his thoughts took a dark turn. “Everyone… everyone was gone.” That wasn’t a place he wanted his thoughts to settle at all. He swallowed, tasting iron. He must have bit himself. It was bitter and salty. He swallowed again. “I didn’t know this would happen when we used the Hogyoku.” Zangetsu snarled, “But we killed that pretentious fuck.” Ichigo glanced back at him in his peripheral. “Not in this timeline.” 
“So what, we’ll just kill him again!”
 Kisuke cut in. “Do you by any chance mean Aizen?” “Who the fuck else?” Ichigo could feel his Zanpakutou’s patience wearing thin, and consequently, his own.  He closed his eyes and let out a huff, pushing his emotions on the matter aside for a moment, and it took a massive heave of effort to smash them down. “Look, for now, all you need to know is that on the day of Rukia’s execution, Aizen is going to betray soul society and take the Hogyoku to Hueco Mundo. It won’t be our only chance, but it’s our best chance.” For a while the silence stretched, and then Kisuke finally spoke. “Let’s assume I believe that, and that you’re correct. To keep events predictable, you’re going to have to follow relatively the same path you did before. Do you remember? Eleven years is a long time.”  Ichigo frowned. “Like I could forget.” Yoruichi hopped down to the table and asked a simple question. “Are you strong?” It had been a long time since anyone had thought to ask that. He wondered if their trust had been misplaced. He met her gaze, his eyes deepened by sorrow, but steeled with resolve. “Yeah.” It wasn’t an answer coated in arrogance, it was merely a fact, one that dragged a mixture of pride and resentment along with it. Yoruichi seemed satisfied by this answer, sitting down with a twitch of her tail. “What do you plan to do in the month leading up to her execution? We intended to use this time for you to train, but if that’s no longer necessary...” Ichigo asked, “You’re still going to train Chad and Inuoe, right?”“Of course.” He nodded, glancing down at the zanpakuto on his hip, Zangetsu following his gaze. “When our reiatsu replenishes, we’re going to need help suppressing it.” He grimaced. “I’m better than I was, but it wasn’t my top priority.” Kisuke flipped out his fan, thinking. “With your track record Kurosaki, to make one you won’t easily shatter, I’ll need to get a reading of your highest reiatsu output.” Ichigo looked pained, scratching the back of his head. Zangetsu laughed. “Only if you prefer everyone in Karakura end up dead.” Kisuke looked intrigued, and Yoruichi looked skeptical. He knew the scientist was wondering if his Zanpakutou was being arrogant, or if it was the truth. He asked, “How long until you’re up to speed?” Ichigo considered that. “Um, maybe a couple of days?” He folded his arms, feeling less confident now that he’d answered. It had been a long time since he’d been so drained, it was hard to judge. “Speaking of that, would you mind if I stayed here until then?” For one, he wasn’t sure if he could face his family without having a meltdown, and for another, he really did need that suppressor. The latter didn’t feel like an excuse at all. Kisuke didn’t even pause. “Of course, Kurosaki-san.” “Also.. this .” Ichigo gestured helplessly to himself. “Being in my body was extremely uncomfortable. Is there any way to fix that?” Kisuke looked thoughtful, taking a seat again at the table, though his eyes flicked up towards Zangetsu. “It’s a curious problem. Until I think of something, stay out of your body.” The reasons why seemed obvious. It would suck to get his body back, just to kill himself on accident.  His stomach churned in anxiety. He got up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, and Zangetsu disappeared back into his soul. “Thanks, Urahara-san.” He looked him up and down, still surprised to see him alive. He realized he was staring too long to be casual. “I’ll be back.” Aware of how unstable his reiatsu must feel, he knew that to Urahara, he was a wild card, but there was one thing about the ex-captain that wouldn’t have changed over all those years: he kept his word. He strode past them both, eager to be outside, and both pretended they didn’t notice his discomfort. The second he set foot outside the shop, he shunpo’d away in a burst of reishi. Even at less than a quarter of his power, no one would notice him, save for possibly Ishida. He was hiding his reiatsu, but he wasn’t very good at it still, and that boy was always noisier than he ought to be.  The first thing he did was shunpo to the school, circling the building with near crazed desperation until he found his sisters. First Yuzu. His heart caught in his throat when he saw her, keeping his distance just in case either girl could sense him.  Always smiling, always doing her best. He couldn’t hear her laugh from where he stood, surrounded by people that couldn’t see him, but he imagined it, airy and light. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she might hide it well, but  she wasn’t as unburdened as her smile led others to believe. Tears stung his eyes for the first time in years. She was alive. He found Karin next, a ball propped between his hip and her elbow, pretending she was disinterested in whatever someone was telling her. Still too cool to engage, too wary to let people know she cared.  They were so small, he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Maybe because he’d also been young, the difference hadn’t been so staggering. He wanted to run to them, hug them and scream, but that was selfish, crazy even. As far as they knew, nothing much as amiss in their life. All they was their brother had a weird, short friend, and was more tired than usual. Their brother wouldn’t come to them in tears, he wouldn’t fall apart in front of them. He wouldn’t even hug them. Ichigo had almost forgotten how distant he’d been with them. “They are alive.” His heart tightened painfully,  and he wasn’t sure why. “Yeah…” He stood nearby for a long time, convincing himself they were real, letting the presence of family wash over him.  Time passed,  he wasn’t sure how long, but he couldn’t watch them forever,  he still had someplace else he wanted to be. Ichigo walked to the only place he could think of to be alone, the only place that was always the same. He found himself standing at the foot of his mother’s grave, tears already streaking his cheeks. He thought he was past crying, but it seemed he wasn’t. “It’s been awhile, okaasan.”  He felt the pull on his reiatsu as both of his spirits materialized beside him. He relaxed minutely, always feeling safer when they were there to watch his back. Even if Karakura should be safe, it took nearly all of his willpower not to run to see his friends. They were alive, he could feel their reiatsu, even from here. They were alive .   He felt a hand on his shoulder, the deep voice of his quincy power breaking him out of his thoughts. “Ichigo. They are alive, you can protect them.” “I failed once…” “Face the future Ichigo, we are with you.” “I know.” He wiped damp cheeks and let out a deep breath. Not dead, he could still save them. None of his friends had died with regrets, but they needed to be stronger, and he could help. No one short of Yama-jii could stop him as he was. A monster… He stood there for hours, letting the turbulence in his heart settle before he could face anyone again. His swords stood there with him the whole time in silence, simply there . He could still see the haunted look in Inuoe’s eyes, the tears on her face. She’d never blamed him, but herself, and that was what ate him up the most. It would have been easier if she had hated him, cursed him, but she never did. He remained there until the sun began to set, broken from his silence by some unseen cue. Streaks of brilliant orange dappled the gravestones, shining straight through him and his companions. He ran his hand through his hair and turned away, his swords dematerializing as he did. “That’s enough self pity for today.”  His power was already almost back, and the speed at which he returned to the shop was double what he'd used to leave. He flickered into sight with the low boom of sonido, steeling himself to once again face Urahara. A ghost. They were all ghosts given flesh and existence. It was hard to accept after they had been gone so long.  “Welcome back, Kurosaki-san!” Kisuke fell easily into his usual sing-song voice and token cheer, even if it was something of a farce. Ichigo felt himself slip back into the routine, grateful to the man for some familiarity. “Hey, Geta-boshi.” He felt a familiar reiatsu and raised a brow. “Ishida was here?”  “You skipped school, he seemed genuinely concerned. Even if he didn't want to admit it.” His eyes widened, how could he have forgotten? His friends hadn't been in contact with him since Rukia went “missing”. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Urahara beat him to it. “Yoruichi spoke to your friends, and they let your family know you’ll be back in a day or so, but Uryū-san was absent from that discussion.” He pulled his hat down, fingers tight on the brim. “You can rely on us, Kurosaki-san.” Ichigo stared at him, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the depth of that statement. It was as close as Urahara  was going to get to telling Ichigo he believed him, that he had some measure of trust in him. He let out a breath and finally stepped inside, acknowledging that gesture with relief. “You don’t have to say something so obvious. Is there any food in this shack, or is the storefront just for show?” “Of course, we were waiting for you.” He turned to go inside, and Ichigo stiffened, hesitating. They were waiting for him ?  “Ichigo, relax, these are your friends.” Zangetsu-no-ossan’s voice kicked him from his spiraling thoughts. Ichigo swallowed thickly, and followed after Kisuke, reminding himself he could relax. There was no threat here,  no Aizen hovering, watching.  “Watch them thoughts, King.” His hollow was right. Instead of dwelling on the past, he focused on the present, stepping from the hallway  into a cacophony of noise. He was surprised to see Yoruichi in human form, with Tessai, Jinta, Ururu, all bickering. Loudly.  Ururu was being teased by Jinta, Tessai expertly picking up Jinta and dropping him on the other side of the table. Yoruichi was stealing food from Tessai, and what was likely Urahara’s bowl. Yoruichi dragged Ichigo over to sit, teasing him about how worried Orihime was, and about how adamant his girlfriend was that he eat. It was all so painfully normal .  He felt the reassurance of his power in his heart, keeping him from losing his grip from sheer happiness. He never thought he’d have this again, by the hells, he was going to enjoy it. He felt himself slipping into the routine so easily. He teased Jinta, scarfing down his food before Yoruichi could steal it. He knew she was faster than that, but she let him keep it. Urahara was his usual, quietly conniving self. He even found himself laughing, forgetting, if only for a few moments, the future.  Once everyone had eaten, it grew considerably less loud. Tessai took care of the dishes with Ururu, Jinta went off to do whatever it was that he did, and that left Yoruichi, Urahara, and himself.  Yoruichi broke out the sake before Ichigo could stop her. “Finally of drinking age, eh boy!”  “Yo-Yoruichi-san, I really shouldn-” “Nonsense!” She poured out a drink for all three of them, pushing it towards him. Her expression grew more serious, raising the shot. “Kanpai, Ichigo. To second chances.” He leveled a look at her, realizing she meant that for everyone involved. He might not be a kid anymore, but they were still all looking out for him, for each other. He glanced at Urahara, who seemed to be waiting for something.  He smirked, a ghost of his usual cocky smirk, replaced by one with the confidence that came from knowing his own limits. “Kanpai!”  He downed his own drink alongside Urahara and Yoruichi and slammed it down, smirk still in place. “I’m not about to be outdone. You know, I once drank Rangiku under the table.” “Oh my, Rangiku-san ?” Urahara raised his fan with a smirk. “Do I sense ulterior motives?” He blushed, but puffed out his chest. “PSH! If I lost, I had to do a literal mountain paperwork.” He muttered, “Damn right I won. Why the hell do you have so much paperwork in the afterlife anyway?.” “That’s some big boy talk, Ichigo!” Yoruichi poured another, nearly crawling onto the table in her enthusiasm. “Can ya back it up?” “HA! Any day!” He downed the next and slammed it down, smirk still solidly in place.  They went on like that until the bottle was gone, and while Ichigo had a healthy blush on his cheeks, he still seemed no worse for wear.  Urahara chuckled, seeing how this was turning into a draw. “I’m afraid that’s the last of the sake, how about you settle this another way?” Yoruichi cheeks were darkened with a blush of her own, but she also seemed relatively fine. Her eyes widened at a sudden thought and she blurted, “Tag!” A wide smirk stretched across her face, slapping her bare foot on the table, knocking over their glasses with little regard for destruction. ‘I’ll even go easy on you, ne?”  Ichigo heard his hollow accept the challenge, along with a round of loud swearing. “Bring it, kitty, I only need three quarters of my reiatsu to catch you.”  Yoruichi seemed thrilled, shoving on the edge of the table and sending it skidding across the room, much to Kisuke’s dismay. She threw up the hatch to the underground training field and stepped in, falling and landing in a crouch, only to blur away and reappear on a rock outcropping. She called up to him, voice distant. “Whenever you’re ready, boy!” Ichigo’s smirk turned mischevious, in a playful mood for the first time in months. He hopped down, landing in a swirl of dust. “Better run Yoruichi, I learned from the best.” He heard Zangetsu cackling in his head, his mood infectious. He let his reiatsu spike, keeping it close so he didn’t disrupt his surroundings, and moved . All that was left behind was a cloud of dust and the boom of sonido. His sonido/shunpo combination surprised Yoruichi, his fingers almost brushing her hair before she flickered away. Away but not out of sight; he could still track her movement, she wasn’t invisible.  He snickered like a child on a playground, after her like a  dog chasing a squirrel. The pair ricocheted around the training field like it was a fifth the size it really was. Their disembodied laughter echoed in the massive room like it was haunted, the only sign of their presence the occasional smudge of purple or orange.  They chased each other for over an hour, neither appearing to grow tired or bored with the game. Kisuke stood to the side and watched, a bemused smile on his face, content to watch.  After some time at it, Ichigo decided to get serious, his reiatsu flaring blue when it shot up. He appeared in Yoruichi’s path, catching her in his arms with a triumphant bark of laughter. “Got you!” She looked surprised, then indignant. “Heeey, you were holding back?!” He let her go, his smile stretching wider. “So were you. It was fun.”  
“Ya haven’t had fun in awhile, King.” 
 He hadn’t, he’d desperately needed this. Yoruichi hopped back and he called, “Oy, Geta-boshi!”  The shopkeeper shunpo’d across the training field, giving Yoruichi a mock pitying look. “Looks like the queen of shunpo was bested by strawberry-chan.”  “Strawberry-chan?!” Ichigo complained. She crossed her arms with a huff. “I’d have won if we were being serious.” Kisuke placated her with a smile. “Ahh, of course, Yoruichi-san.” She scowled at him, but there was no malice there. “I would never doubt you.” The shopkeeper’s tone grew to be serious. “But, Kurosaki-san. If you know the future...perhaps you might doubt me.”  He started to kneel, but Ichigo caught his shoulder before he could try, stopping him short. He was well aware of where this was going. Now he understood Kisuke’s uncharacteristic melancholy, wondering how he could have forgotten. Kisuke hadn’t told him the truth in the past, but he understood why. “Hey, no. If you must apologize, save it for Rukia. You did nothing I didn’t already want. Maybe you lied...I don’t care, you were never the type to share your plans.” “I trust you, Kisuke.” He slipped and used his first name, but whatever, he was the same person he remembered. It might be really, really stupid, but the thought of trying to cut Kisuke out of his life seemed too daunting. He couldn’t let his family close, and his friends were still young, they had lives and futures, he couldn’t  dump this on them. That left his pool of choices pathetically tiny. He didn’t think he had the mental stamina not to trust the man.  Ichigo let his hand drop from his shoulder, and Kisuke looked genuinely surprised, watching him carefully. “Maaaa, if I didn’t know better Kurosaki...I’d say you grew up.” He smiled, a teasing edge to his voice. “Or became even more of a fool.” Ichigo crossed his arms, mildly defensive, and huffed. “Good to know you’re the same as I remember.” He was aware of Yoruichi’s presence behind him. It bothered him that he felt his hackles raise in mistrust at all. He wanted to relax near his friends, his allies, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was an excuse to turn to face them both when he voiced his question. “You know, I’ve been wondering what happened to the Hogyoku. It couldn’t have just disappeared…” Kisuke didn’t seem surprised by the question, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve given it thought, and I didn’t sense the Hogyoku on you at all. Whatever you wished for, I can only assume it erased it from existence after consuming the reiatsu you fed it, or merged with the Hogyoku of this timeline, much as you merged with your past soul. I lean towards the latter.” Ichigo’s shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. “So there are only two now...not three. That’s good.” Yoruichi asked, “What happened to the second Hogyoku in your timeline?” Ichigo realized it had been literal years since he’d had to recall anything from that day. His heart skipped a beat, for a moment, his breath tangled up in his chest and he didn’t remember the question. Zangetsu repeated it for him, and he looked away, pretending to think about it, as if it wasn’t seared into his memory forever. “Aizen merged both Urahara’s and his Hogyoku to ‘complete them’, whatever that means. That shouldn’t have happened yet.”  The ex-captain looked away in thought, but Ichigo recognized the look on his face. Regret. This wasn’t a comfortable topic for either of them, so Ichigo seized the excuse to change the subject. “Oy, Urahara, how about you show me some kidou?” Urahara blinked, jolted from the dark turn of his thoughts by the sudden change in subject.  Ichigo rubbed his neck, sheepish. “I was never all that good at it, but you’re the best. You were going to train me anyways...right?” Yoruichi scoffed. “As if you need to master something else.” Ichigo gave her a flat look. “I hardly doubt I’ll ever be a master of kido. My reiatsu is all over the place.” He could be honest, he knew his control was trash compared to other shinigami, but then, they’d had decades to refine it, and he’d been far more concerned with gathering power. Kisuke relented. “Okay Kurosaki,” he waved his hand in a beckoning gesture, “show me.” “Show you...Give me a second.” Ichigo realized this was more involved than he’d hoped for. He  sighed and spoke aloud. “Oy, hollow!”  
“What.”
 
You know what I want. Let’s spar.
 
“You mean use me for target practice.”
 He smirked. Wuss. It’s not like we have enough space to sparr for real. Or would you rather collect dust in my soul.  And there was Zangetsu, solid behind him, hand on his inverse sword. “Say that again to my face.” Ichigo turned. “You’re a wuss?”  Zangetsu drew the sword, a lazily sadistic smile on his face, and Ichigo held out his palm. “Bakudo number seventy-three! Tozansho!”  A blue inverted pyramid of light appeared around his hollow, Zangetsu’s sword bouncing off the shield. The pyramid wasn’t the solid plane of light he’d seen when Yoruichi used it, it was jagged and unstable, the edges frizzing with unstable energy. His Zanpakutou shouted obscenities at him, but he couldn’t hear him through the buzz of the shield. He could feel his intent loud and clear in his soul though, lucky him.  Ichigo ignored his sword and said, “Low level kidou is….difficult.”  Urahara observed the energy field, reaching out to touch it. Energy arced from the shield to his hand and he hissed at the bite. “Well, you have the reiatsu, but you lack the control.” He gave him a pointed look. “Obviously.” Ichigo groaned. “I knoooooow!” It was a sore spot, so sue him. He waved his hand and the bakudo disintegrated, his Zanpakutou’s obscenities becoming audible. He winced. His creativity was always impressive.  He drew his sword, stopping his hollow’s attack without looking. A shockwave sent a wave of dust rolling away from them. “Oh shut up! You wanted to come out, right? You’re out.” Neither of them were taking this seriously, and it wasn’t like his sword could hurt him anyways.  Zangetsu looked offended, the two exchanging blows Urahara could barely follow. “I’m not a training dummy!” “Sooo, you’re a wuss that can’t handle some kidou?” The rageful scream was all the answer Ichigo needed. He smiled, not fooled. This was a game, one they played often, but Zangetsu was clearly upset he wasn’t taking this time travel nonsense seriously. Yoruichi bent her knees, clearly unsure if this was cause for alarm.  Zangetsu hammered at him, but Ichigo held him off with little effort, ending the exchange with his sword leveled at his throat. He rolled his eyes. “Oh calm down, you’re just mad you didn’t get to chase Yoruichi.” His hollow swung his sword around to point at Yoruichi. “Che! Her boobs were right there , King!” Ichigo blushed, pointing his sword at Urahara. “ He was right there, and-just- no !” Yoruichi laughed, finally settling on the mood of the exchange. “Hollow-chan is right, Ichigo!” She mimed squeezing breasts, a sly smirk on her face. “You missed your chance!”  “ Y-you !” Ichigo sputtered, brandished his sword in her direction. “Don't encourage him.” Urahara cleverly made no comment, but he flipped out his fan to hide his smile. “What about hadou?” Zangetsu idly twirled the sword in his hand, pacing like a lion at the edge of a brushfire. Ichigo let him simmer. “That’s where I could use some help. I’m no good at limiting the level of destruction. If I was at full power, that bakudo might have blown up in my face.”  Kisuke pondered this. “There's no replacement for good reiatsu control, but if you're known for anything, Kurosaki, it's finding shortcuts to power.” He gestured at his pacing sword. “Show me a low level hadou.”  Zangetsu perked up at the promise of violence, bringing his inverted Zanpakutou across his chest in a guard. “Don't hold back too much, King. That would be boring.” Ichigo smirked, then braced himself and held out both hands, crossing one in front of the other. This was a kidou he'd used on more than one occasion against fraccion, and by far the kidou he was most familiar with. He didn't bother with an incantation, he didn't need it to be any more powerful than it already would be. A whirling ball of red light appeared in front of his hands, baseball-sized for a split second, then it raged like a wildfire, growing to easily be the size of a cero. Red streams of power swirled around his arms, the glow casting deep shadows around the training field. “Hadou number thirty-one, Shakkahō.” It shot from his hands straight in a ball of angry red light. The hollow charged up a getsuga just as he let the Hadou loose. The reiatsu clashed with the Hadou, red and black energy exploding, then spiraling into itself, canceling  itself out in a rictus of power. The explosion was a bit larger than Ichigo intended or expected, but the training ground was still relatively intact. The smoke cleared and an uninjured Zangetsu came into view, sword resting on his shoulder. He yawned, just to be a dick. “Just level thirty-one? Bo––oring.” “Shut it, I’m not trying to kill them .” He shifted to look at Kisuke, noticing Yoruichi had relocated to a place behind him and the kidou shield he’d raised before the release of his Hadou. “So?” Kisuke let the kidou fade, tapping his Zanpakutou on his shoulder in thought. “Power is the problem...hmmm. You don’t seem to have a problem with Hohō, so I wonder what changes?” He wasn’t posing the question to Ichigo, rather, he was musing aloud.  “Stand in the air, Kurosaki.” Ichigo jumped, standing a few feet off the ground on a platform of reishi with no effort at all. “Who taught you how to do that?” Ichigo looked down at his feet, then shrugged. “I just… figured it out.” Kisuke hummed. “Instinct then? Interesting, given it’s a skill that requires advanced reiatsu control.” Zangetsu scowled. “This kido nonsense is particular, it’s like a woman. You’ve seen him with women. Ain’t got any tact.” Ichigo shot him a dirty look, one ruined with a faint blush. He dropped the reishi he was standing on and landed back on the ground. “Ahh well, there’s some truth to that.” Kisuke looked at Zangetsu. “Your style hasn’t seemed to have changed much. You can’t easily improvise kido, and the incantations don’t react well to fluctuations in reiatsu. I assume these fluctuations are a result of the hollow inside you. You seem to subconsciously be maintaining a balance, but when you use Kidou, the balance tips away from your hollow-like energy. “We can attempt to get you to condense and channel your reiatsu evenly when you direct it into kidou…” He paused at the look that passed between Zangetsu and Ichigo. Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. “I didn’t want anyone to panic if my reiatsu suddenly disappeared. I’m already suppressing it.” Kisuke’s eyes narrowed, not missing his choice of words. “Disappeared?” Ichigo dropped his hand, sharing another look with Zangetsu, who only shrugged loosely in response. “Just for a minute, I don’t want anyone to panic and think I’m dead.”  This seemed to pique both Yoruichi and Kisuke’s attention. Since his power had been coming back to full stride, he’d made an effort to keep it boxed in, trying to keep it hovering around the level he thought it had been at before. Since he was awful at sensing reiatsu when he was younger, he wasn’t sure how close he got, but he’d tried. As it stood, this was about the most he could compress his spirit energy, it simply wouldn’t go any lower, it was like trying to close the lid on a box that was already overflowing.  If he completely let go of his control...He let out a slow breath, closing his eyes, and relaxed. For a split second, the gravity of his power nearly flattened Kisuke and Yoruichi, the weight of his power suffocating. Then it disappeared.  He looked at Kisuke, a little sheepish, and the look on the shopkeeper’s face was one of shock and understanding. Yoruichi mirrored his expression, but didn’t seem to understand, her eyes turning to Kisuke for an explanation. Kisuke murmured, “That’s disconcerting. I can’t sense you at all.” “Yeah...and you won’t unless I lower it to a level you can perceive.” When he remained silent, Ichigo lowered his reiatsu again, still worried what his friends would think. They weren’t aware of Haachi yet, or kido barriers strong enough to cut off their perception, and he knew from Ishida that his energy was constantly a bother. Already he knew this would raise questions, but this was something he thought he should demonstrate now rather than later.  “Kurosaki...I can’t make a suppressor for reiatsu I can’t even understand.” He knew from the bemusement in his tone that Kisuke had underestimated him. That was a new feeling. Ichigo frowned, thinking. “Well, what about if you made one for when I lower my reiatsu? Would that work?” “I suppose….if you stopped suppressing it, it would either be destroyed, or it would be useless, but we would have to test it.”  
“How long we gotta wait?” 
 Yoruichi and Kisuke looked at him like they forgot Zangetsu was there. Kisuke raised a brow. “Are you in some kind of hurry?” 
“Clamping down on our power doesn’t feel right. I hate it.”
 Ichigo scoffed and folded his arms. “No one asked you.” “Don’t pretend you don’t hate it too!” Zangetsu sounded angry, but he looked at Ichigo expectantly, knowingly. Ichigo looked away and frowned. “I’m not good at it, no, and I don’t feel a strong urge to be good at it. Right now Ossan is doing most of the work in my subconscious-” “ Wait , I thought that was Zangetsu?” Yoruichi interrupted, jabbing a thumb at his hollow. “Umm.” Ichigo floundered, wondering how to explain. Yoruichi hadn’t seen him train for bankai in this timeline, she hadn’t seen his Quincy powers. Actually, if she had, she might be even more confused. “I have two Zanpakutou spirits. Sort of.” Kisuke’s eyes widened. “How is that possible?”  Ichigo rubbed his forehead, battling a headache. “Ossan.” He braced himself to pick up the slack, his reiatsu wavering when he manifested the older spirit. The man materialized to his right, hair and cloak waving in a sluggish breeze that didn’t affect anything beyond him. Keeping two spirits manifested wasn’t a problem, he’d done it for days before, but doing it while keeping his power under iron will was a bit of a struggle. “This is also Zangetsu.” They were one and the same now, he accepted them both, and that had never changed. Yoruichi looked between the three. “How?”  Ichigo let Ossan fade away, letting him take back up the arduous task of holding back the well of his power. The spirit had done it most of his life, it was a task he was used to, but he’d never done it when he was this powerful.  None of them felt Ossan could keep this up for long. The stranglehold on his reiatsu reminded him of uncomfortable things. Zangetsu was too right; it felt wrong, like breathing through a straw. The sooner he let his friends know what was going on, the sooner he could relax.  He explained, “It’s a long story, so...I have the power of a quincy and a shinigami. I always had the potential to become a Visored, but you sped that up, Urahara.” He frowned, looking down at his chest. “Actually, it’s more like Byakuya is to blame. Speaking of, didn’t he sever my soul sleep? What happened?” “In the past, yes, but your soul from the future was intact, wasn’t it? You overwrote yourself.” Ichigo frowned, not wanting to think too hard over the fact he’d basically killed himself. “Oh.” He felt a flicker of phantom pain from his body and pushed it from his mind. This time things would be different. Zangetsu decided to lie down, not interested in the conversation in the slightest, and no fighting was to be had. Kisuke glanced over at Zangetsu and asked a question Ichigo was surprised he hadn’t asked sooner. “Why manifest your Zanpakutou?” Ichigo knew why he was asking. It was a huge drain on most shinigami, and most Zanpakutou didn’t want to come out anyway. Some appeared as a captain’s bankai, he’d noticed, but his bankai was simple. Ichigo decided to dance around the truth. “A few reasons. I ran out of people to train with, and we can’t hurt each other. I can train in my headspace, but we decided destroying my mindscape wasn’t very smart. I spent a lot of time in Hueco Mundo, sometimes alone, and I had the energy to spare, so Zangetsu would watch my back so I could sleep.” He shrugged. “I figured blowing him up was more courteous than blowing you up. Now to mention he’s restless.” Yoruichi edged closer to Zangetsu, getting a better look while Zangetsu growled at her like a dog. “How long can you keep this up for?” Ichigo looked up and thought about that. “Uhhh, days? I’ve never tried for endurance.” Yoruichi skipped away from Zangetsu when he lashed out, fists swinging. He went slow enough for her to dodge, Ichigo knew it was a baseless threat. Zangetsu wanted to protect him, and his friends shared that goal.  Yoruichi grinned and sat. “It’s kind of weird to see a grouchier version of you. Speaking of, why does he look like you?” It was a valid question. He’d never heard of someone’s Zanpakutou reflecting themselves. “I didn’t have a hollow crammed inside me like the other Visoreds, he’s part of me..” “Part of you? How? Is that why he’s….docile?” He knew Yoruichi was fishing for the right term, and it didn’t seem this one appeased her either.  “Long story.” One that was going to stay between him and his hollow. Yoruichi seemed to accept that answer. Kisuke looked to him, considering something. “Your father is going to have questions. When are you going to tell him?” Ichigo’s face fell, not looking forward to that conversation. “Tomorrow.”  Kisuke dipped his head in a half nod. “It’s late, Kurosaki, and you’ve given me a lot to think about. How about you try to sleep?” Sleep. He hadn’t even noticed he was stalling, but it was exactly what he was doing. He didn’t want to sleep, it was one of the few things he feared anymore. “I’ll try.” Zangetsu disappeared when he started for the ladder, simply waving goodnight before he shunpo’d to the ground floor. He knew Kisuke mainly wanted to discuss with Yoruichi in private, and he could give him that.  He went to his room, sitting down against the wall. He frowned at his body, still unused to seeing it. He murmured, “Zangetsu?” He knew he was paying attention, he always was. Switch.  
“They’ll notice yer reiatsu is different, King.”
  Let them. Those are questions I can handle. He felt the surge of power inside him, pushing his consciousness aside. Once, it had terrified him, but now, it was a relief. Zangetsu’s instincts were sharper anyways; if something happened, and he doubted it would, the hollow would wake faster than he could.  He opened his eyes, staring out at the darkness of his inner world. The sky shone with stars so bright, everything was cast in silver. The stars here never moved, flickering in the depths of his mind like holes poked through the sky. The city of his mind was still present, still skewed, but now it was always cast in darkness. He didn’t want to wonder about what that might mean.  Bare and brittle wind slid through his hair  and across the nape of his neck, ghostly fingers of old memories. Ichigo lifted his hand to the back of his neck, scrubbing the feeling away. He laid down, aware of Ossan’s protective presence nearby, even if he couldn’t see him. He twisted to his side on cracked and cold concrete, arms hugging his middle, and tried to nap. It wasn’t true sleep, not when he wasn’t driving, but Zangetsu was sleeping, so it made him restful.  He woke haunted by nightmares, even in his own head. The oppressive peace of night was interrupted by a howling wind, wrapping through skyscrapers stretching from a colorless desert. It died down when he woke, and his hollow was used to it, so he didn't wake because of it. Every night was an unwelcome battle, and one he often lost. His power wanted to protect him, but there were some things they couldn’t protect him from, and he knew it infuriated them as much as Ichigo’s own weakness irked him.  His hollow never mocked him for that weakness, and through their softly spoken pact, Zangetsu helped him. The hollow helped him sleep, helped him fight, live. He relied on him too much, but the yawning fear of loneliness kept him from pushing his hollow away.  It didn’t rain in his soul anymore, the city in his mind was already too reminiscent of Hueco Mundo. It was more like a home to him than a bed and four walls and a roof. It wasn’t a comfortable place, but he didn’t feel comfortable anymore and he couldn’t calm his nerves without miles of unbroken space.  Hours passed in the dark, and Zangetsu forced him to sleep. --- xxx ---

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Zangetsu woke before the sun was up, trading places with Ichigo so the other could grab a bite for breakfast, careful not to stick around to avoid questions. He pretended not to notice the looks Urahara was giving him
, the ex-captain letting him know he
would have a suppressor prototype that evening, and that was that.
 
Today was Friday, so once he felt Yuzu and Karin head to school, he stopped hovering around the house and finally stopped by the clinic.
 
Knocking felt stupid, but barging in felt wrong too. He'd been gone for so long, this place was just a distant memory. He couldn't even remember the feel of his bed, and he almost didn't want to. He didn't fit in this life anymore, even the thought of the monotony and routine of school made him restless. It took a long time to accept, but he loved the challenge of battle, and fuck him, but Aizen was right; Now that he was at the top, he finally understood true loneliness, but from a perspective Aizen would never understand.
 
In the end, he settled for flaring his reiatsu, just a little, in invitation. He didn’t mean to trample on his feelings, but he couldn’t face him otherwise. His body didn’t feel right, it wasn’t him, he needed to see his father face to face. He stood on the roof of a nearby house, trying not to fidget. He was nervous, he didn't know what to expect.
 
In a shimmer of shunpo, his father was before him, just as he remembered him. He wore the remnants of his captains haori, Engetsu at his side, and he wondered if this was the first time since his powers returned that he showed himself as a shinigami.
 
Once they got over the shock, their expressions were a mirror of each other's; Sadness, regret, fear. Ichigo knew why those emotions were there, but he could see the confusion dawning on his father’s face. His expression softened, a small grin lighting his face. “What’s with that pathetic expression, oyaji?”
 
That broke Isshin from his thoughts, an exaggerated scowl on his face. “PSH! What’s with that

hair

? You some kind of punk now?”
 
Ichigo quirked an irritated smirk. “What’s that goat-face?! You wanna fight!”
 
Isshin moved, coming at him with his signature spinning kick, one Ichigo caught with one hand. He jumped back, a wide smile on his face. “Looks like you turned out strong after all.”
 
The shift in the mood was abrupt, but he could feel the pride in his father’s voice. His chest felt tight. “Oyaji…”
 
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He looked away, his eyes focusing somewhere out of sight. “After the secrets I’ve kept from you, I feel like a hypocrite asking…”
 
“You did what you had to do, I don’t blame you...I guess I actually understand now.” Ichigo hadn’t even thought about what he would tell him. “There are some things I couldn’t keep secret if I tried.”
 
He sat, because this was going to be a long talk. His father took the hint and joined him, sitting and waiting in silence. The focus and attention he spared him made him a bit uneasy, he wasn’t expecting it.
 
He started to explain, leading with what he told Urahara and Yoruichi. He told him he was from the future, he told him about Aizen, about the Hogyoku, about his rescue of Rukia, even about Hueco Mundo, and his reiatsu, explaining what he’d felt when his reiatsu disappeared the night before. He couldn’t bring himself to tell him in the future his father was dead, that he’d failed Yuzu and Karin. He told him as much as he dared, but he left out the details, he didn’t even know where to start.
 
He finally lapsed into silence, watching his father carefully, anxiously.
 
“The future, huh?” Isshin looked off to the East, towards Yuzu and Karin’s school. He could feel them, even from here, just like he knew his father could. “Was it that bad?”
 
Ichigo didn’t answer, he couldn’t, but he knew that his father had guessed what had happened. He wasn’t a puzzle, he was simple in his goals. His friends and his family were everything. Without them…
 
“I’ll be here to protect your sisters. You do what you need to do.” Ichigo wasn’t expecting him to say that, staring back at him with determination. His dad was still his dad.
 
Ichigo looked away, feeling guilty. “I...was selfish.” His dad didn’t say anything, so he kept talking. “I didn’t use Mugetsu, Aizen got away.” He hadn’t been able to tell him before, but he’d feel like a coward if he didn’t.
 
He didn’t look at him, he couldn’t, not until he said his name. He said it with the force of a parent, he couldn’t ignore that. “

Ichigo

...Don’t blame yourself for what Aizen did. I don’t know what the future was like, but you have a second chance.” He smiled gently. “Don’t dwell on the past. Future?” He laughed quietly. “You know what I mean.”
 
He knew it was foolish to expect his father to berate him for his mistakes, but he hadn’t expected to feel so much better after talking to him. “Ahh...thanks, oyaji.” He wasn’t one to linger in sadness, he didn’t let the mood stay somber. “Urahara is working on figuring out how to help me stay in my body. Tell Yuzu and Karin I’ll see them soon.”
 
“I’ll make sure they don’t worry.” He gave him a reassuring smile and stood, prompting Ichigo to stand. “Come home, Ichigo.”
 
He smiled back at him. “Yeah, I’ll be back.” He lifted a hand in a half wave, then disappeared in a soft boom of sonido.
 
That talk had taken longer than he’d thought, it was already early noon.

“What about Uryū?”

Ichigo had been avoiding that thought, wondering what he should do. He didn’t want his friend to lose his powers, but if he didn’t, he might not ever get stronger. He needed that artifact from Soul Society, and from what his friend had told him, Nemu had given it to him, and that only happened because he fought against Mayuri. “I won’t do anything for now. Actually, this feels like something he would do, doesn’t it? Sneaking around, not telling anyone what I’m doing.”

He’d be so proud.

That thought held some heavy sarcasm.
 
He knew the quincy had skipped school, and he knew him far better than the Ichigo of the past, so sensing his reiatsu was simple, especially when he already knew his favorite place to train. He shunpo’d most of the way, then stopped to walk, approaching cautiously. Ishida in this time was less of a friend and more of a begrudging ally.
 
He gave Ishida more than enough time to see he wasn’t a threat, stepping from the trees with a carefree wave. “Yo, Ishida.”
 
Ishida had his bow drawn and leveled at him, suspicion in his eyes. “Who are you, Shinigami?”
 
He still spat the word like a curse, but Ichigo couldn’t blame him. “Isn’t that obvious?”
 
“Your reiatsu is different. The Kurosaki I know doesn’t have two swords, and his reiatsu might be monstrous, but it’s nothing like this.” His arms raised, threatening to shoot. Kurosaki had to admit it took balls to face someone you knew was stronger, he was proud of his friend.
 
“I’m Ichigo all right, just a few years removed. I’m from the future, Ishida.”
 
He didn’t look convinced, nor did he lower his bow. “You think I’m stupid, shinigami?”
 
“No, you’re anything but stupid Ishida, which is why I’m telling you the truth.” He wondered what he could do to make him believe him, but he didn’t know where to start. “You know, I never actually told you this; in the past, actually, tomorrow, in this timeline, I was training with Urahara in a process called Encroachment to get my shinigami powers back. My inner world was crumbling, I was going to become a hollow. I was about to die for real...I had to find my own power, the power that had hidden itself deep in my soul when Byakuya severed my soul sleep. I thought about you, I remembered what you said about reiryoku, about how you knew what I was. I’d used it before, but I didn’t know what I was doing, and I never thought to look for my own ribbon. I found my powers, and in a roundabout way, you sort of saved my life. I never thanked you for that.”
 
Ishida’s bow loosened, but he didn’t lower it. “Your reiatsu…”
 
“Feels hollow-like? Yeah. I got my powers back, but I was already hollowfying, I was a little too late. My shinigami and hollow power is one in the same.” It was a half truth, but he didn’t want Ishida to know about his Quincy blood. Not yet.
 
He crossed his arms, making it even clearer he didn’t intend to fight. “Any other questions?”
 
Ishida let his bow dissolve, seemingly comfortable with the distance between them. “Why come back in time?”
 
Ichigo’s expression grew somber, not wanting to lie to Ishida. He’d always been there to back him up, he was arguably the strongest of his close friends, and he deserved the whole truth, even if he was too much of a coward to give it to Chad and Inuoe. “I didn’t intend to. You were all killed, I missed you. For reasons I’m sure you understand, I can’t tell you how it was possible, but you’ll know soon.” Ishida said nothing, and when the silence stretched, Ichigo continued. “It’s strange. This is

my

past,

my

life, but I feel like an outsider.”
 
“Kuro...saki.”
 
Ichigo continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You and I came to be good friends, you know?” He hoped that still happened, Ishida had been a good friend, he’d always tried to help him stay good. People thought he was cold, but that was the opposite of the man he knew. “Any other questions?”
 
“You’re not going to tell me what’s going to happen?”
 
Ichigo smiled ruefully. “You know I can’t do that. I just wanted you to hear it from me. I’m strong enough to save Rukia on my own, but I want you to come anyway.”
 
Ishida pushed up his glasses, brows furrowed. “Of course I’m going, I have to pay those shinigami back for attacking me.”
 
Ichigo smirked. “Yeah, yeah. Can I count on you?”
 
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Kurosaki.”
 
He turned to leave, but paused, remembering something. “Oh yeah, if you stop sensing my reiatsu, I’m not dead, don’t get too excited. I’ll see ya in a few days, Ishida.” He was gone in a boom of sonido before Ishida could say anything else. He wanted to help his friend train, but he didn’t want to disrupt events any more than he already had.
 
Technically, he could bypass Urahara all together and just go to the Rukongai through a garganta, but that would mean tripping Mayuri’s sensors in a way that would change the timeline even more. Sure, he was confident he could take on multiple captains, especially as they were now, but he needed them to be present for Aizen’s betrayal, and if Aizen knew a garganta opened in Soul Society without his orders he’d be on him like frost in a snowstorm.
 
It soured his stomach to know he was just going to be sitting on his hands while Aizen slaughtered the Central 46, while he toyed with Hinamori, but he couldn’t take the risk. If he had Ishida’s or Orihime’s soft heart, he might not have been able to do it.
 
He took some time to clear his head, waiting for school to let out, then went to go find Inuoe and Chad, because they deserved to know the truth, especially when they were going to be putting their lives on the line. He knew Yoruichi had already spoken to his friends; they knew the situation with Rukia, and they knew he was going to go after her.
 
He found them in the industrial district in a half-built factory. Even with his pitiful skills, it was easy to find the reiatsu of the people he cared about.
 
He shunpo’d to the window, dropping inside. Yoruichi seemed to be expecting him, because the cat just flicked an ear, acknowledging him. Chad didn’t outwardly react to his presence, but Inuoe did, her eyes widening. “Kurosaki-kun! Your hair is long...you’re tall!” She lifted her hands to her mouth, like she was surprised the words had slipped out. “You’re okay!”
 
“Of course I’m okay, Inuoe. I need to talk to you both.”
 
Chad spoke up first, to his surprise. “You have two swords now...does this have something to do with the way your reiatsu has been different?”
 
Ichigo was surprised he’d noticed the change in his reiatsu, but then Chad had always been more perceptive than people expected. He was just disappointed in himself for falling into the same trap. “Something like that.”
 
He sighed, getting into this for the fourth time. He’d hoped it would be easily, but it still felt weird. “I’m from the future. That sounds like bullshit, but it’s true. I don’t want you to worry, I’m still mostly the same.” Mostly. He was more ruthless, he didn’t stop to try to talk people down from the ledge anymore. If they faced him, they usually died, it’s how things were. He wasn’t sure if his friends would approve. Ishida hadn’t.
 
Inuoe hesitated before she answered, “You’re from the future? Like a sci-fi movie?” She crossed the distance to him, stopping only when she was inches away from his face. Ichigo tensed under the scrutiny, uncertain how to deal with it. “You

do

look older….you seem different.”
 
Chad hadn’t moved, seemingly unphased by this. “You’re still Ichigo.”
 
“Ah.”
 
Chad tilted his head in a subtle nod, having heard enough. Inuoe frowned, taking a step back to give Ichigo his space again. “Why? How?”
 
Ichigo shook his head, they would learn about things eventually, but he didn’t want knowledge of the future to color their actions. “That’s not important, just know that I can’t go back,” nor did he want to, “so for now, just get stronger. I know you want to come with me to Soul Society, I know Rukia is important to you too.”
 
He gave her an easy smile, shifting it to Chad. “Try not to worry.” He hopped back to the window and waved. “Work hard, I’ll see you soon.” And then he was gone.
 
It felt a bit cowardly to just end the conversation before it could even start, but he had a whole set of excuses a mile long. He went back to Urahara’s shop, directed by Tessai to the underground room.
 
He dropped down into the room, seeing Kisuke sitting on a rock not far from the ladder. “Ah, Kurosaki-san! How did it go?”
 
“It went well, actually.” He looked down at the small, belt-like hoop on the rock. “What’s that?”
 
Kisuke grinned. “A suppressor. I tried to make a bracelet, but it was too small to hold the Kidou I needed to use, so I upgraded it to a headband of justice!” He mimed equipping it. “It even has an activation phrase!”
 
He scowled. “No way in hell am I wearing that fucking headband again.”
 
Kisuke beamed. “I made you one before?”
 
“You have a one track mind, don’t you?” Ichigo crossed his arms. “I’m not wearing that.”
 
Kisuke stood and stepped down from the rock, the red, belt-like loop unclasping. “Aren’t you at least going to try it?”
 
He’d been hoping for something smaller, like Kenpachi’s eyepatch, but then, his reiatsu was a lot

more

than Kenpachi’s. “I ain’t sayin’ some activation phrase. Can I wear it around my neck instead?” He remembered the suppressor Rukia had been forced to wear.
 
Kisuke held it out to him and raised his brows. “I didn’t think you’d like that either.”
 
He scoffed, “I won’t, but it’s better than a stupid headband. I’ll survive.” He lifted it up to his neck, deciding this must work like the headband he’d made him to train with Ururu before. It connected automatically, tightening on it’s own. It wasn’t form-fitting like a choker, but his instincts still rebelled at something so close to his throat. He could feel Zangetsu’s growling disapproval in his mind.
 
The drain hit him like a wall, making him stagger forward. He flexed his reiatsu on reflex, Zangetsu-no-ossan dropping his chokehold on his power. His power doubled, but the collar swept it back as soon as he did. He let out a shaky breath and stopped panicking; this is what it was suppose to do.
 
He slowly let his reiatsu rise, and the collar kept pace, stifling his power the more he let out. He let his reiatsu stop at around double a captain’s, Urahara tensing under the pressure on his shoulders.
 
Urahara urged. “Keep going. We need to know if it will break.”
 
Ichigo watched him for any sign he should stop, not really wanting a Kidou powered bomb going off on his neck. He’d probably be fine, but it would still be unpleasant. He let his power rise, both of them sweating, but for different reasons. He was going slow, he saw Kisuke struggle to stand, his knees hitting the ground. He urged, “Keep going.” He did, slowly, just to be safe.
 
Abruptly, Kisuke fell forward, catching himself on his hands/ He was breathing hard now that the pressure was finally lifted. Ichigo felt like he’d been pushing on a wall, one that had suddenly disappeared. He gasped, finding the lack of resistance to be just as awkward as Kisuke had. He lifted his hand to the collar, finding it to be physically intact, but he was no Kidou master. “It’s still in one piece, yeah?”
 
Kisuke straightened, dusting himself off. “I didn’t feel the Kidou shatter. I’d say it held.”
 
Ichigo grinned. “Well, that was unpleasant.”
 
“If I didn’t have this whole room layered with reiatsu dampeners, that might have been trouble, Kursosaki-san.” He readjusted his hat, and let out a breath. “Ready to push it back down?”
 
“Give me a bit. I can finally

breathe

.” He felt a lot better, lighter, faster, stronger.

Normal

. “Did you figure out how to get me back in my body?”
 
Kisuke grinned back at him. “Patience, Kurosaki-san. I’m beginning to think you don’t appreciate my efforts.” There was no real insult in his tone, if anything, it seemed the challenge was wholly welcomed.
 
Ichigo’s smile softened. “People expect a lot from a genius, from people who are strong.” He was speaking from experience. There had been a lot of expectations heaped onto his shoulders when he was young, something he knew those around him felt guilty over, but he’d grown use to it. He couldn’t let them down. He didn’t linger on that thought, changing the subject yet again. “Now how about helping me sort out my reiatsu?”
 
“It would be easier to help if you were more forthcoming.”
 
Ichigo raised his brows. “Ah, but you know about okaasan, didn’t you make that gigai for her?”
 
Kisuke laughed. “You really do know everything. And here I thought you were holding out on me.”
 
“I inherited her quincy powers, it’s making me a bit more unstable now that they’re as active as my shinigami powers.”
 
Kisuke whistled, spinning his cane. “That you can balance them at all is a feat. I can’t even give you shit for not having them managed, I’m surprised you’re doing as well as you are.”
 
Ichigo shrugged. “I needed to manage them to win, so I learned how.”
 
“Stubborn as I expected, Kurosaki-san.” He drew his Zanpakutou, dropping the sheath, and slipped into shikai. “I’ll assume that means you still learn on the fly. I’m not sure how much of a threat I am to you, but it’s worth a shot.”
 
Ichigo drew his swords, a smile spreading across his face. He was more than a little eager for this. “I’d be a fool if I didn’t see you as a threat, geta-boshi.”
 
Urahara might not match him in terms of raw destructive power, but he had a feeling Kisuke could kill him if he put his mind to it. The only reason he failed against Aizen was because the Hogyoku was stronger than he ever imagined it could be. The man was a genius, and he’d missed him terribly. He was his first real teacher, the first person to really understand what he’d needed in order to improve.
 
Kisuke circled him lazily, his expression shifting to something more serious. “Now let’s see if I can apply enough pressure to make you improve.”
 
Ichigo waited for Urahara to make the first move, stopping his first strike with his trench knife. His smirked, reminiscent of Zangetsu’s manic smile. He was aiming to kill, that was good.
 
He swung his khyber shaped blade toward his throat, forcing down on the trench knife to push Urahara’s stance low. Kisuke twisted free in time to block his attack, their swords clashing and throwing sparks. He struck again with the trench knife, whirling in a dance of battle he relished.
 
They avoided shunpo, settling for pure Zanjutsu. Both were masters in their own right, Ichigo relying more on instinct, while Kisuke had pure, practiced talent. If there was anyone who would be able to force him to allocate his power more efficiently, it was Kisuke.

--- xxx ---

The days slipped by, Ichigo training with Kisuke and practicing keeping his reiatsu lowered with the suppressor, and Ishida, Chad, and Inuoe training on their own. Kisuke didn’t come up with a solution to getting him back in his body, Ichigo arguing fighting was more important if it was going to take time anyways.
 
Their ten days spent, he spent an hour in his body just to re-establish a connection, saying goodbye to Yuzu and Karin. He’d taken the time to try to accept they were still alive, but when he saw them, he still choked up. He even gave Karin a hug, much to her embarrassment and Yuzu’s delight. He exchanged some parting words with his father, then returned to Urahara’s shop in time to go through the Senkaimon.
 
He was already waiting in the underground training grounds when the three showed up. Four, counting Yoruichi. Orihime gushed about how impressive the room was, while Tessai cried in joy. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. Or at least, according to his past.
 
Urahara pushed him out of his body, the cane punching through his forehead. He caught himself and set his body down, waiting for Urahara to give the speech he already knew. His friends didn’t, so he could be patient. Urahara snapped his fingers, revealing the makeshift Senkaimon he’d constructed.
 
He listened as he explained the Reishihenkanki and their four minute time limit. It would only take about a second if he could shunpo, but his friends couldn’t, and he couldn’t carry them all. He raised his hand and said, “Oy. The cleaner’s gonna be in there, we should go if we want to outrun it.”
 
Kisuke’s eyes widened, nodding to Tessai, and they set up the connection with the final steps of Kidou. “Go, right when it opens.”
 
The gateway flared white, and the group lunged for the opening. They ran through the Dangai, a place Ichigo unfortunately knew all too well. He put a hand on Ishida’s back, urging him to go in front of him to avoid the cape debacle. He wouldn’t let it be said he didn’t care about his friends.
 
They ran, just a few feet ahead of the cleaner this time. Inuoe didn’t need to use Shun Shun Rikka. He wasn’t going to risk letting her die for something so stupid. He wouldn’t stop her from fighting, but the Dangai was something else entirely.
 
They were shot out of the gate, Ichigo catching himself and Orohime before they hit the ground. He set her on her feet, awkwardly taking a step back. “Ah, sorry Inuoe.” He blushed, she blushed, and he deflected by barking at Ishida. “You gonna lay there all day, glasses?”
 
Ishida jumped to his feet, fixing his glasses with a blush. “I-I was just surprised, that’s all!”
 
Chad got up, and his friends finally looked around, familiarizing themselves with the Rukongai. Yoruichi explained where they were, and what was in front of them. Ichigo smirked, “Time to knock on the front door.” Yoruichi looked surprised, but said nothing, trusting his judgement.
 
He strolled up to the gates, more than a little confident. Technically, the shields of Soul Society were calibrated for a certain kind of reiatsu. He could get in all on his lonesome if he wanted, but then his friends would be left high and dry, and that was no good.
 
The gate fell from the sky, crashing down in a rather slow, cascading wall. He supposed to the usual ryoka they had to deal with, this was quite enough of a defense. Ichigo waited, hands at his sides, for Jidanbo to appear.
 
As per the future he knew, the giant showed himself from the clearing dust, massive axes in hand. He felt bad about breaking them the first time, but he needed him to open the gate, he needed to face Gin. That was the part he worried about most. He knew Gin was only semi-compliant with Aizen, but he was a sharp bastard, he thought he might see through him. What he’d do with that information though, he could only imagine.
 
Jidanbo’s voice boomed. “It’s been awhile since someone tried to pass through Seirei Gate without a travel permit. You’re a rare guest. Welcome, kozu.”
 
Ichigo murmured, “It

has

been a while.”
 
Jidanbo smashed his axe on the ground beside him. He didn’t flinch. “Come at me, kozu!”
 
He heard Yoruichi explaining away the guardian’s accolades to his friends, and just like before, they hardly mattered. Before his friends could get involved, he called out to them. “Hey, can you all do me a favor and stay put?” He smirked. “I’ve got this.” He gave Chad and Inoue a thumbs up, then turned back to Jidanbo. “And you, you’re my host, how’s about you make the first move?”
 
“Draw your sword, kozu!”
 
“Don’t need it.” He’d stopped Aizen’s sword with his bare hands, even with his spirit pressure smothered, he could handle Jidanbo.
 
“You’ll pay for that arrogance!” He raised his axe above his head, hearing the shocked exclamations of his friends. He felt bad about that, but Jidanbo was no threat. He was a good guy, just doing his job.
 
He said, “Not arrogance.” Jidanbo brought his axe down, the air displacing around the force of his blow, but Ichigo was unconcerned. He backhanded the blade before it could reach him,  shattering it, and stepped to the side. “Confidence.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t make me break both.”
 
Jidanbo lifted the handle of his sword in disbelief. “Tha-that’s not possible.” He drew his other axe, confusion and rage crossing his face. Ichigo sighed. The axe came at him from the side, so slow, he almost felt bad for the giant. He moved rather slowly himself, but he knew it was too fast for Jidanbo to follow. He was perched on the blade of the axe, which was now above Jidanbos head with his follow through.
 
He couldn’t knock him unconscious, then he wouldn’t open the gate, he had to break them, even if it felt undeserved. The first time had been an accident, he hadn’t known his own strength, but this time he did. He struck the axe he was crouched on, shattering it as well. The pieces clattered to the cobblestones. He landed lightly, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, Jidanbo…” He really was, he wasn’t acting.
 
He could feel the disbelief from his friends, though Ishida’s eyes on his back felt calculating more than awed. He heard the quincy speak up behind him.  “Kurosaki...what’d he just do?” He knew the quincy was trying and failing to gauge his strength. The suppressor made sure of that.
 
The giant stared in shock at his destroyed Zanpakuto. He empathized, he really did. He’d been on the receiving end more than once, it didn’t feel good. “Oy...say something.”
 
The giant started crying, all of them wincing in pain at the sheer volume of noise. Ichigo grimaced, he felt like a bully that kicked over some kid’s sandcastle. “Ah, ah, stop crying, I’m sorry I broke them both, they really were impressive…”
 
Jidanbo finally looked at him, sniffling. “You and I are enemies, but you’re concerned about me, a loser.” He braced himself, stiffening when he dropped those giant hands on his shoulders. “What a big heart, you really are great.”
 
He still felt bad, trying to remember what it was he’d said. “Well, you were crying, wouldn’t anyone want to console someone like that?”
 
Jidanbo straightened, pulling himself together. “What kind of a man am I, crying over broken axes? It’s been 300 years since I became the guardian of the White Road Gate, and in all that time, I never lost once. You’re the first man to defeat me.” He still had tears in his eyes, and Ichigo crossed his fingers that he would open the gate.
 
“I, Jidanbo, grant your permission to enter through the White Road Gate!”
 
And there it was. He smiled. “Ah, thanks, Jidanbo.”
 
Inuoe spoke up. “You’ll really let us pass?”
 
“I lost to your leader, so it’s only right, isn’t it?”
 
Ishida fumed, “Kurosaki, isn’t our leader!”
 
Jidanbo questioned, “Your name is Kurosaki?”
 
Ichigo scowled at Ishida, then answered Jidanbo. “Ah. Kurosaki Ichigo.”
 
“Ichigo, huh? That’s a cute name.”
 
Ichigo couldn’t let that slide, he almost forgot about that. He frowned. “Ichi means “one”, and go means “protect”! That ain’t cute!”
 
Jidanbo only smiled. “Take care, Ichigo. I don’t know why you’re passing through this gate, but on the other side, they’re all strong.”
 
Ichigo remembered his past response, and found it ironic that it would actually be accurate now. “I know.”
 
Jidanbo looked amused. “So long as you know.” He crouched, fingers displacing the dirt to reach under the base of the gate. “Stand back, I’ll open the gate.” He heaved, muscles straining, and slowly straightened, revealing Seireitei on the other side. The streets were spotless, unlike the cobbles outside the gate, the buildings and roofs gleaming. Ichigo didn’t have to wonder why Seireitei was despised, it was obvious.
 
His friends expressed their awe, and he didn’t blame them, Jidanbo really was strong, lifting that gate was no small task. He could destroy it, sure, but lift it? No way.
 
He stepped forward, aware of what was about to happen. He saw Ichimaru pacing towards them, that fuckin’ smirk on his face. Jidanbo told him what he already knew, shaking in fear. “I-it’s the captain of the third squad! Ichimaru Gin.”
 
The captain stopped short of the gate. “Ah, this isn’t good.” Almost faster than Ichigo could follow, Gin released his sword and extended his wakizashi, slicing Jidanbo’s arm clean off.

I’m sorry, Jidanbo

. He cried out, “Jidanbo!” The giant groaned in pain, catching the gate on his shoulders before it could fall. “Let it go Jidanbo, it’s fine.” He had a lot of heart, he felt bad knowing this could have been avoided, but he was consoled by the fact that Inoue could heal him.
 
Gin straightened from his stance. “Unacceptable. A guardian isn’t suppos’ ta open the gates.” Ichimaru stepped forward, that snake-like grin widening. “When a gatekeeper loses...it means

death

.”
 
Ichigo stepped in, sword drawn, and as expected, Gin blocked him. Both of them were holding back significantly, it was almost pathetic. “Oy! What kind of guy attacks someone unarmed?”
 
Gin jumped back and smirked. “You’re not afraid of me? What a weird kid.”
 
Yoruichi called out. “Ichigo, stand down!”
 
“So you’re Kurosaki Ichigo?” He started to walk away, and Ichigo drew his sword, knowing what was coming next. “All the more reason why I can’t let ya pass.” He turned, falling into a stance. “Ikorose, Shinsō.” Ichigo raised his sword to block the extended wakisashi, allowing himself to be thrown back into Jidanbo. It didn’t hurt, but he hoped Gin didn’t notice how little it affected him.
 
He was flung back, the gate slamming back down, but not before Gin waved goodbye. He grit his teeth. He might be on their side, but he was still a slimy bastard.
 
He got up and gestured to Jidanbo. “Inuoe! Heal him, please.” It wasn’t an order, more like a frantic request. He knew time didn’t matter, but Jindanbo stood up for them, he was a friend now.
 
She lifted her fingertips to her hairpieces, not hesitating. “Shun Shun Rikka! I reject!” The oval glow of her healing power enveloped Jidanbo and his severed arm, her power making quick word of the injury.
 
He gave her a small smile. “That’s the Inuoe I remember.” She blushed, but concentrated on her work, not hesitating or ceasing until Jidanbo was in one piece.
 
As before, the Rukongai people finally came out to meet them. He almost forgot about Shibata, but Chad deserved some closure, and he still needed to wait to meet Ganju and the Shiba’s. Seemed the threat had passed for the moment. They were in the Rukongai, they were in Soul Society. Things would only be more difficult from here.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, obviously, nor do I own the obvious Jump art above. This story is for funsies, not for monetary gain.

“Shiro in mindscape dialogue”

“Manifested Shiro dialogue”

“Zangetsu-no-ossan mindscape dialogue”

Ichigo inner dialogue

This is weird for me to stick close to the canon story, I’m use to putzing off on my own bullshit tangents, so I hope it’s not boring, I’ll do my best!

Nightmares

--- xxx ---
 
Night fell on the Rukongai, and they made their way inside the elder’s house, Ichigo reassuring them they were where they needed to be. He knew Ganju was going to stop here, and when he heard the thunder of the boar’s feet, he smiled. “And there he is.”
 
Right on schedule, the Shiba heir tumbled through the doorway and into the room. Ichigo wasn’t as shocked as his companions, but he was aware this was weird. At this point in his life, even the gates of Hell wouldn’t be shocking.
 
Ganju groaned and stood, brushing himself off with a mutter. “Ahhh, thrown again by Bonnie-chan.” He straightened with that punk-ass smile Ichigo had come to recognize. “It’s been a while, old man.”
 
The elder stood. “Ganju, go home!”
 
“What, I come to visit after so long and that’s the greeting I get?” He noticed Ichigo, who had stood up before Ganju had come flying through the door. “What’s a filthy shinigami doing here?”
 
He stepped right up into his space lifting his hand to pat his cheek. “I said, what’s a-”
 
Ichigo snapped his hand up, catching his wrist before he could touch him. He smirked stiffly. “Don’t touch me.”
 
Ganju ripped his arm free, and Ichigo let him. The Shiba shouted, “You wanna fight!”
 
“

Kick his ass, king!

” Ichigo tried not to roll his eyes.

That’s hardly fair, now is it? That would be like kicking the elderly when they’re dead.

He shot Ganju an annoyed smirk. “That’s my line!”
 
Ichigo traded insults with his cousin while Ishida demanded to know just who Ganju was. Ganju overheard and jabbed a thumb into his own chest.

“You don’t know?!

”
 
His friends articulated that indeed, they didn’t know the name of the idiot that had decided to grace them with his presence. “I’ll tell you! I’m Ganju! The self-proclaimed Crimson Bullet of West Rukongai! Self-professed ‘want-to-call-you-aniki’ candidate for 14 years! And...West Rukongai’s self proclaimed top shinigami hater!”
 
Ichigo cleaned out his ear. “Is that all?”
 
Ganju attacked him, and he let him throw him out into the street, a smirk on his face. He slid back on his heels, waiting for another attack. He reiterated. “Is that all you’ve got?”
 
He hadn’t left his Zanpakuto aside this time, but he didn’t need them. Ganju came at him, fists swinging, and he was ready. It had been awhile since he’d fought without his swords in an all out brawl; it was

fun

. He dodged, blocked, and punched back, not letting Ganju’s attacks hit. He only hit him a couple of times, careful to hold back. He was finally understanding how Kenpachi felt. He was almost disappointed when the alarm his goons brought ran out.
 
Ganju tripped and skidded on his face. He jumped up. “It’s nine already!! Shit!” He whistled and Bonnie-chan jumped over Ichigo’s head, Ganju jumping astride and riding off in a rush, shouting insults the whole way.
 
Ichigo crossed his arms and muttered, “I’m not a dandelion.” He wasn’t so quick to anger as before, but it still pissed him off.
 
He turned to Yoruichi. “We’re going to see the Shiba’s tomorrow, right?”
 
Yoruichi looked a bit surprised he’d known, then seemed to realize how pointless that was. “Yes.”
 
“Good.” He stormed off inside and sat with a disappointed huff. The was fun, too bad Kukaku was a domineering bitch. “

Yeah, King, you said it.

”

Shit, you’re rubbing off on me.

“What, no one else is tired?!”
 
His friends blanched, all mumbling various excuses and apologies. It wasn’t long before they went to sleep for real, but instead of joining them, Ichigo relocated to the roof. He still couldn’t sleep, not like this, and he didn’t want his friends asking questions.
 
Yoruichi noticed and followed him, and he wished she hadn’t. “Ichigo…”
 
He heard her paws on the roof, but didn’t turn to look, his eyes on the stars. “What do you want, Yoruichi?”
 
“What are you doing out here?”
 
He closed his eyes, staring up at the sky. “Can’t sleep.” That wasn’t true, he could, but not like this.
 
He felt his hollow’s spirit rush up to replace him, and he let him. Maybe it was cowardly, but he was tired, and he trusted Zangetsu. He felt the darkness rush up to take over, filling his sclera with black.
 
His hollow turned yellow eyes towards the cat. “
Shoo, kitty. He’s fine.
”
 
She greeted him. “

Hollow

...is he?”
 
Zangetsu bared his teeth, defensive. “
We were fine before you showed up, we’ll be fine after.
”
 
Yoruichi wasn’t cowed, sitting with her tail curled around her feet. “It seems like you’re making a habit of this.” She wasn’t addressing Zangetsu, but Ichigo.

Tell her, it’s fine.

Zangetsu frowned, looking back up at the sky. It was weird, telling the truth. “
King gets nightmares. He doesn’t want his friends to worry. Or you.
”
 
“Nightmares so bad he lets his hollow take over?” Yoruichi wasn’t fooled.
 
Zangetsu bared his teeth again, hand lifting to grasp the Zanpakuto on his back. Ichigo knew he wouldn’t use it, he was just defensive. “
King’s seen some shit.

Back off.

”
 
“Why won’t he tell me himself?”
 
He felt Zangetsu struggle to find an answer, unused to being questioned.

Tell her.

Ichigo’s voice was soft, but not defeated.  
 
“
He’s tired. You’re suppose to be dead. Just seeing you is like a sword in his heart. Back. Off.
”
 
The cat’s eyes widened in surprise, but Ichigo couldn’t discern why. Then she looked away. “I see.” The silence stretched for minutes, but Ichigo paid just as close of attention as Zangetsu. “I would have thought his inner hollow was a burden. I see now that I was wrong.”
 
She dipped her head to him, then left before he could respond. Zangetsu muttered in his mind. “

Che, damn cat is nosy.

”

She’s just worried. Older people always worry for young people.

“

But you’re stronger

.”

Sometimes strength is relative...and sometimes it’s hard to understand.

He was doing what he could, but there was no fighting his subconscious into submission, it wasn’t something he could just will away.
 
Sleep came to him slowly, and with just as much difficulty as he remembered. Zangetsu-no-ossan watched over him inside his mind, and Zangetsu watched over him outside. It didn’t make it any easier.
 
His body had slept, but his mind hadn’t, not really. He was awake and aware before any of his companions, sitting on the roof cross-legged to wait. They didn’t know he was outside, so he got to witness his friend’s musings on who they were about to meet. Their expectations were...cute. Kukaku was a real demon.
 
He joined them in the street, although this time, they didn’t need a map, he knew where the Shiba house was. He’d forgot how….gaudy it was. He felt embarrassed for his extended family, leading the way with a blush. How could he forget how giant those arms were...and the sign?! How were they related? If his friends knew, he might actually cringe himself out of existence.
 
The gatekeepers stopped them once again, but recognized Yoruichi quickly enough, and then they were descending the stairs into the house. He felt like he was sweating, why was this so awkward?! Maybe because he already knew what was about to happen.
 
This time, when it was revealed Ganju was a Shiba, he didn’t fight so much they pissed off his sister. She was terrifying, he didn’t need the extra nightmare fuel. He settled for beating Ganju quick, pulling his arm back far enough he threatened dislocating it. He let him go when he gave up, but this didn’t seem to fully pacify his sister.
 
After some groveling, they were back on track and headed to the cannon room. Reiatsu control, his old foe.
 
Kukaku explained the barrier made by the Sekkiseki stone, and the purpose of the cannon and the Reishi-kaku. This would be difficult, even when he already knew some Kidou.
 
They retreated back inside to practice, and Ichigo discovered this was still just as difficult as before, but for different reasons. Instead of getting no results at all, he kept blowing himself up. Fantastic.
 
Once again he was stuck training while the rest went to dinner. He remembered what Ganju told him, but it did no good now. Even with the suppressor on, he struggled. He just had too much damn reiatsu, and keeping it in balance was already something he struggled with.
 
“

Yo, King. You suck at this.

”

Can you do better?!

No answer. Typical bitching hollow.
 
He was well into the night before he managed something stable, Ganju sitting in the corner the entire time. He fell asleep sometime after that, and now that he got a sphere that wouldn’t explode on him, they were ready to go.
 
When Ganju came out and announced he was going with them, he’d nearly forgotten how hard Kaien’s death had hit him. He knew the whole story, but Ganju didn’t, and he wouldn’t until he got to the center of the Seireitei.
 
If only he knew the shinigami they were going to save was Rukia. She had felt so much guilt,

regret

. He now understood those looks she gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He didn’t just look like Kaien, they were related.
 
He tensed when Ganju gripped his Shihakusho and pulled him in. “I’ll go with you, I’ll see what a shinigami is really like.”
 
Ganju let him go, and he scowled at his cousin. “Well...looks like we’re working together then.”
 
Yoruichi went to give the cannonball Kidou her first try, and as Ichigo expected, her form was flawless. He muttered, “Show off.” She preened under the praise from his friends.
 
They went inside the cannon, gathering around the sphere, and all output reiatsu in a solid, stable sphere. Ichigo was getting the hang of it again, but with more than shinigami reiatsu, it was a little complicated. If he didn’t have the suppressor, he didn’t think this would be possible at all.
 
He heard Kukaku reciting the incantation, bracing himself for the launch much as he had the first time. It was less jarring that he expected, even knowing what was to come. He looked out at the Seireitei for a moment, struck by the fact it was actually a beautiful sunrise. Why hadn’t he remembered that?
 
His attention returned to Ganju when he pulled out the scroll, explaining that they needed to regulate their reiatsu output for the second part to work. “One mistake and it’ll be the end! I’m counting on you!”
 
Ichigo was less than confident this time around.

Focus. Focus. Focus

.
 
“Flower Crane Cannon Launch Method Two! Secondary Spell! Fate of three sparrows, fate of four dragons, blocked in from five directions, unable to return six miles, wind of the heavens, orangutan, spoons, crane of elm…” He continued the chant, but Ichigo stopped listening, he was focusing on boxing in his reiatsu.
 
“Ichigo. Too much.” He heard Chad’s voice, but didn’t open his eyes. He was concentrating, and that wasn’t helping.
 
“

Ichigo

!” This time it was Ishida.
 
Ichigo snapped, “Shut up! I know!”
 
“You idiot, you made me read the same line twice!” And now Ganju.

Great

, this was just as disastrous as the first time.

Then the ball hit the shield, the clash was jarring when they were stuck in an oversized marble. Arcs of power shot from the impact like lightning, the shield resisting the cannonball. Then it suddenly gave, and like before, they were through it, suspended in the air before the backlash sent them flying.
 
Fortunately, yet again, he was closest to his cousin, thanks to his bickering. Yoruichi jumped to his shoulder, and again, Chad was sent flying off on his own after he threw Ishida back into Orihime. Well, at least things were going according to plan.
 
He called out to Orihime and Ishida. “I’ll find you!” He gave them a smile. “Be strong.” Then the field collapsed and sent them rocketing across Seireitei. Yoruichi was separated from them like before, but he marked that as a good thing.
 
He could catch himself on his own, but he let Ganju use his Kidou to catch them. Ganju held out his palm, tracing a circle in the air. “Turn to sand! Seppa!” He had a weird perspective now, knowing he was his cousin. As much as Ganju grated his nerves, he was proud of him; he was good.
 
They hit the sand and it was just as awful this time as the first time. They burst out of the sand spluttering and bickering, and right on schedule, Ikkaku and Yumichika showed up with Ikkaku doing his stupid lucky dance. He’d wiped that from his memory as quickly as he could apparently, because he got to reexperience it like it was brand new.
 
Again, Ganju ran off with Yumichika tailing him, and he had to smile as he climbed out of that sand pit. “

Ikkaku’s got a bankai. This could be some serious fun

.”

But he’s hell bent on not using it. Don’t get your hopes up.

Ikkaku asked, “Why didn’t you run like the other guy?”
 
Now his answer was different, a lazy smile stretching across his face. “I want to fight.” Before it had simply been the motivation to win, and the honor not to run, but now he felt a thrill of anticipation.
 
Ikkaku swung first, the sword cutting where he’d just been standing. He dodged with little effort, disappearing and reappearing behind him, his trench knife resting against the side of his neck. “You can do better than that, Ikkaku.”
 
The shinigami whirled, lashing out with both his sheath and his Zanpakuto. The motion would have cut his throat if Ichigo hadn’t pulled away. Ikkaku snapped, “Why didn’t you kill me?!

Idiot

!”
 
Ichigo smirked. “Where’s the fun in that? How about you fight me for real?”
 
“What’s your name?”
 
“Kurosaki Ichigo.” He didn’t need his swords, but he drew the other out of respect for the man he knew, and the hope of a good fight.
 
Suddenly, Ikkaku smiled, and if he was aware of the gap in their power, he didn’t seem to care. “Ichi, huh? That’s a good name.” He slammed the end of his sheath to the hilt of his sword. “Lengthen, Hozukimaru!” It looked like a spear, but he knew Ikkaku’s style well, it was a sansetsukon.
 
Ikkaku thrust the spear towards his heart. He knocked the spear aside, getting in close, and instead of being caught off guard, this time he was ready for the separation. He caught the bladed length of the sansetsukon with his other hand, stopping the blade before it could reach him. He stepped inside his guard, headbutting Ikkaku in the nose before he could pull back.
 
Ikkaku staggered, blood gushing down his face, and yanked on his Zanpakuto. Ichigo let him have it, a bit disappointed to see the staff was cracked where he’d grabbed it. Too much, too much, he had to hold back even more.
 
The shinigami narrowed his eyes at Ichigo. “You’re playing with me.”
 
“What of it?”
 
“I think my captain’s gonna like you.” The sansetsukon snapped back into a spear, the blood on Ikkaku’s face dripping down his jaw to his neck, soaking the collar of his shihakusho.
 
Ichigo felt his smile widen at the prospect of beating down Zaraki. For one, the way he used his Zanpakuto pissed him off, and for another, that man just didn’t know how to stay down. When he ever died for keeps, he knew what squad he wanted. He called dibs on the eleventh. “I’m looking forward to meeting him, if he’s anything like you.”
 
He let his reiatsu spike a little, drawling, “Come on Ikkaku, we’re all alone, stop holding back!”
 
“Who says I’m-” Ichigo was suddenly behind him, blood spraying from a wound that crossed from Ikkaku’s shoulder to his navel.
 
Ikkaku whirled on instinct, eyes wide in shock. He lashed out as his weapon separated, and if Ichigo was slow, the blade would have wrapped behind his sword to catch him in the neck. Ichigo wasn’t slow.
 
He struck with the khyber blade, shattering Ikkaku’s Zanpakuto, then hit him in the gut with the back end of the trench knife. Ikkaku crumpled in a heap, unconscious. Ichigo looked down at him, and muttered, “He’s either stupid, or seriously dedicated to keeping his secret.”
 
“

He’s disappointing, is what he is. We can only hope Zaraki is more entertaining.

” Ichigo agreed, but at the same time, disagreed.

We’re here to save Rukia and kill Aizen, remember?

“

Yeah, yeah, but who says we can’t also have some fun?

”
 
He crouched down by Ikkaku’s transformed Zanpakuto, removing the end of the hilt to find that staunching balm he knew he kept there. He applied a generous amount to his wounds, then sat nearby to wait for the idiot to wake up.
 
He didn’t have to wait long before he sensed the other shinigami gain consciousness. Ikkaku looked around, noticing him. “Ichigo.” He looked surprised, then annoyed. ‘Why are you still here? Why didn’t you kill me, you idiot!”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome, you ungrateful bastard.”
 
“I should thank you for letting me live with the shame of defeat?”
 
He scoffed. “Oh shut up, that’s my line. You think it feels good to defeat someone that’s holding back more than half of their strength? What sort of victory is that?”
 
Ikkaku’s eyes widened, and Ichigo could follow his thoughts easily enough. “Your captain has the reiatsu sensing ability of a damp paper bag, of course he didn’t notice. Did you think

I

wouldn’t?” Truth be told, he hadn’t sensed he was holding anything back from his reiatsu alone, but the feeling he got from his sword was very telling. Ikkaku’s shadow stretched behind him like a monster, but before him stood a man. The image didn’t fit.
 
“How...can you possibly know all this?” Ikkaku looked down, eyes widening when he saw what he’d used to prevent him from bleeding out. This time around, Ikkaku hadn’t used it in their fight, he shouldn’t have known about it. He could call it a slip up, but honestly, it didn’t matter this far into the game.
 
Ichigo stood and crouched over him. “Does it matter? If you die, I won’t ever get to fight you again. I don’t like leaving a fight unresolved.”
 
Ikkaku grimaced, but let it slide, watching Ichigo warily. “What do you want anyways?”
 
“I’m here for Kuchiki Rukia.”
 
“What do you want with her?”
 
Ichigo answered with confidence. “We’re here to save her.”
 
He asked, “How many of you are there? At least 7 or 8, right?”
 
“Nah, five humans, including me, and a cat.”
 
Ikkaku blanched. “You can’t be serious…”
 
He burst out laughing, and Ichigo’s expression soured. “You’re one to judge, didn’t I just kick your ass?”
 
Ikkaku laughed harder. “Are you stupid?!”
 
Ichigo scowled and stood. “Well if you’re going to laugh at me, I’ll just be going then.”
 
Ikkaku got his laughter under control and asked, “Aren’t you going to interrogate me?”
 
“I already know where she is. White tower, right? See ya, Ikkaku.” He started away, losing interest.
 
“Hey, Ichigo!
 
He paused and looked back. “What?”
 
“I hope my captain lives up to your expectations.” He grinned. “If you live, we’ll fight sometime.”
 
“Yeah, yeah.” He disappeared, using shunpo to find Ganju. Instead of wasting his time fighting and running from a bunch of unseated shinigami, he ran along the rooftops, too quickly for them to see. He saw a firework go off, changing directions minutely. He hoped things were going well for his friends, he wished he could be there to see them fight, but it was as much of a mystery now as it had been in the past.
 
He found Ganju, and acted out their failed plan to take Hanataro as a hostage. He sensed Chad getting closer, feeling awful that he was going to have to leave him behind yet again. He ran, knocking aside any shinigami that stood in their path with ease.
 
Once Hanataro was leading them through the sewers, he and Ganju got the story of why Hanataro was helping them. He was struck again by how guilty Rukia felt by all of this. That idiot should have known better, of course he would come after her, and damn her brother and his stupid pride.
 
Once they came out closer to the center of Seireitei, he knew Renji would be waiting. He was looking forward to this fight the most, he realized. He wasn’t his friend yet, but he would be, and he took his friendship with Rukia so seriously, Ichigo had to wonder what took him so long to switch sides.
 
“Hey. Both of you, stay back.”
 
He stepped forward, the mist clearing to reveal the fukutaicho descending the stairs. He lifted his reiatsu sensing shades and scowled across at Ichigo. “It’s been a while. Remember me?”
 
He felt the phantom pain of his Zanpakuto shredding his shoulder. “How could I forget...Abarai Renji.”
 
Renji closed the distance between them. “That’s a surprise...you even remembered my name.”
 
“You should be flattered.” Ichigo lifted his hand to the sword slung across his back. “I have a hard time remembering names and faces.”
 
Ganju called out. “Ichigo, that’s the squad 6 fukutaicho! We-”
 
Ichigo didn’t take his eyes off Abarai. “I know, it’s fine. I’ll win.”
 
Ichigo started forward while Renji spoke. “I don’t know how you managed to survive. You should be dead.”
 
“Sorry about that. I’m a tough guy to kill.”
 
Renji drew his Zanpakuto, walking faster. “It ends here, I told you I’d be the one to kill the one who stole Rukia’s powers. If you’re alive, Rukia won’t ever get her powers back.”
 
Ichigo felt real anger bubble up inside him, “How can you judge when you only brought her back to kill her?” He rushed forward, the bandages on Zangetsu unfurling as he swung to attack. He swung slow, and Renji blocked him, then pushed him back and countered. He blocked each attack Renji threw at him, leaning into his sword when he blocked. He started to pressure him back, his reiatsu rising in warning.
 
Renji snarled, “What’s your plan? So what if you beat me? There are 13 taichos, and another 12 fukutaichos!”
 
Ichigo kept his anger at bay as much as he could manage, his eyes narrowing. “So I’ll just keep winning.”
 
“What’s with that confidence? You think just because your Zanpakuto’s different now, that you’re stronger?” He pushed against Ichigo’s sword, and Ichigo jumped back, putting distance between them. Renji ran his palm over the blade. “Howl, Zabimaru!”
 
He jabbed at his midsection, and Ichigo raised his Zanpakuto to guard. The flat point of his Zanpakuto struck the flat of his blade, the segments in Renji’s sword separating and pushing him back. With the suppressor coupled with his own efforts, he really was pushed back on his heels. He raised his reiatsu, holding his ground against Renji’s attack, and stopped himself short before he could get flung into a building. It would be pretty suspicious to get thrown and then emerge without a scratch.
 
Ichigo jerked his sword to the side, forcing Renji’s sword back, the links crumpling like an accordion under his strength. “You were going to say I was underestimating your power. I know

exactly

who I’m facing. Even without the seal, I’m stronger than you. I’ll save Rukia.”
 
Renji’s face twisted in rage, whipping his sword back, then throwing it forward in another ranged attack. “Shut up! The guy that stole Rukia’s powers doesn’t get to pretend to give a shit!”
 
Ichigo calmly sidestepped his attack, then the next. That made three. Renji pulled his sword back, the links snapping together. Renji was angry, his attacks were sloppy, he knew he was better than this. “Who says I’m pretending?”
 
Renji attacked him again. “It’s your fault!”
 
Ichigo knocked the sword aside, calmly closing the distance between them. He dodged with shunpo when he lashed out again, appearing to the side. “You think I don’t know that? What do you think I’m doing here?”
 
Renji looked surprised, he knew the fukutaicho hadn’t been able to follow his speed. He was faster than Byakuya, and Renji still couldn’t beat the captain.
 
Ichigo let his reiatsu rise, the pressure weighing down on Renji. “I’ll save her.” The fukutaicho shifted to the defensive, sensing the gap in their power as Ichigo’s reiatsu whipped around them both.
 
Ichigo disappeared, reappearing inches away from Renji.  “Sorry, Renji.” He hit him in the chest with an open palm and a burst of reiatsu. The redhead went flying back, hitting the wall and sliding to the ground with a gasp of pain.
 
Ichigo put his sword away with a frown, the bandaged tightening in a makeshift sheath. Renji wasn’t going to be getting up for awhile. He’d hit him hard enough to break a few ribs, and the reiatsu in his attack was enough to hammer Renji like he’d been hit by a bus. He hadn’t wanted to break his Zanpakuto or hurt him too badly. Renji was a good friend, losing so utterly would wound his pride, but they wanted the same things, there was no reason to put him at death’s door.
 
He started to turn away, but Renji, damn him, struggled to his feet. He coughed up blood, willing himself to move. He paused to face him. “Renji...stay down.”
 
His friend struggled to reach him, but fell short, his knees hitting the ground. He swore loudly. “Kurosaki! I’m swallowing my pride and I’m asking you...save Rukia!”
 
Ichigo’s eyes softened, not wanting to take pity on his friend, but it was there anyway. “You don’t have to beg Renji. I’ll save her.

I promise.

”
 
As if needing to hear that promise was the only thing keeping him standing, Abarai collapsed in a heap.
 
He turned back to Hanataro and Ganju, both of which were staring at him in awe and fear. He supposed it was weird to thrash a fukutaicho with so little effort, but it didn’t feel good when he knew he was a friend. Hanataro stammered, “W-what are y-y-you?”
 
Ichigo glanced in the direction of the squad running in their direction. “Ah, we need to go. Hanataro, do you know a way out?” He was unconscious for this last time, he had no idea where to go next.
 
“Y-yeah. Follow me.”
 
He ran with him back to the sewers, immediately lost in the maze they ran through. How Hanataro could make heads or tails of this place, he’d never know. They stopped once they were a reasonable distance away, Ganju turning to face him with a scowl. “Just how strong are you? Nothing seems to scare you.”
 
Ichigo dodged the question. “What good does fear do?”
 
“You know what I mean!”
 
Ichigo stared at him, then sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me.” He looked between them, feeling like dirt for using them. At least, that’s what it felt like. They stuck with him so far, they deserved some truth. “I came here to save Rukia, but that’s not the whole story. I came here to kill someone as well.”
 
Hanataro’s eyes widened, taking a small step back.
 
Ichigo sighed. “Don’t look at me like that, Hanataro. I wouldn’t hurt my friends.” He paused, struggling to find the words to describe an evil that had ruined his life. “I came here to kill someone that would cause a lot of suffering if he was allowed to live.”
 
Hanataro trembled, but he asked anyway. “Who?”
 
The kid had a lot of courage, for someone people dismissed as a coward. Ichigo wanted to look away, he didn’t like shutting his friends out, it felt wrong. “I can’t tell you. I probably shouldn’t have even told you that much.” He looked at Hanataro, then Ganju. “I’m asking you to trust me.”
 
For a moment, Ichigo thought Ganju was going to shut him down, then his cousin sighed. “Geeze, no need to get so serious, we weren’t going to leave. Right, Hanataro?”
 
Hanataro looked surprised to be called out, but straightened. “Y-yeah. I want to help save Rukia.”
 
Ichigo smiled. “So let’s go save the pipsqueak. Lead the way, Hanataro.”
 
Hanataro still seemed flustered having a role to play, but Ichigo could see how determined he was to help. He led them deeper through the tunnels, emerging to climb the staircase towards Senzaikyu Shishinro and the deserted ring of buildings where he knew he would face Zaraki.
 
Just as they crossed into the buildings, Zaraki’s reiatsu crashed down on them. Ichigo’s heart raced, a smile stretching across his face. His hollow’s laughter echoed in his head, his excitement becoming his own. He turned to Ganju and Hanataro, still not able to wipe the smile from his face. They flinched, and he pretended he didn’t notice. “Run ahead, I’ll catch up to you. He’s not interested in you two.”
 
Ganju looked about to argue, then nodded. He grabbed Hanataro, throwing him over his shoulder and running ahead. Ichigo buzzed away in a flurry of shunpo, stopping on top of one of the higher roofs. The killing intent Zaraki was throwing around made it easy to find him, he just hoped Ganju and Hanataro got far enough away that they wouldn’t be affected. “Yo. You must be Zaraki.”
 
“You that ryoka I’ve been looking for?” Zaraki’s eyes were sharp as he remembered them. The man was a mountain, he was surprised he’d managed ot beat him in the past.
 
“Ikkaku told me about you.” Ichigo raised his reiatsu, his hand going for the hilt of his khyber sword. The bandages unraveled as he brought the blade up to rest on his shoulders. “We gonna fight or chat?”
 
Zaraki stood, Yachiru jumping back with a wave. “Have fun Ken-chan!”
 
Drawing his sword, Zaraki laughed. “What a cocky brat, you’re full of openings.”
 
Ichigo let his reiatsu swing towards his hollow powers, his eyes bleeding black. “Then how about you stop blathering and attack me?”
 
Zaraki moved, and while he was fast, Ichigo wasn’t concerned. Zaraki’s battered Zanpakuto struck him in the chest, but stopped short without cutting him. He could have used blut vene, but his hierro was plenty to handle Zaraki. His smile turned savage. “You gonna cut me

like that

?”
 
“

Feels good to be on the other end, don’t it?

” He could still remember his shock when his sword had failed to cut Zaraki. He thought for sure he was going to die.
 
Zaraki’s eyes widened in shock, and before he could react, Ichigo drew his sword up inside his guard, slashing him across the chest. Blood splattered on the roof tiles as he distanced himself. Zaraki’s shock melted into a bellowing laugh. “YESYESYESYESYES! I don’t know what kind of monster you are, kozu, but don’t stop there!” He tore off his eyepatch, his reiatsu spiking despite the blood pouring from his chest.
 
Ichigo let his iron control over his reiatsu slip even more. It was like dropping a weight, then trying to catch the rope before it hit the ground. It was difficult not to let his power return to where it should be, but he didn’t need Aizen to consider him enough of a threat to divert his plans.
 
Zaraki lifted his sword to attack, and Ichigo disappeared, slashing his back. “Where are you looking?” On instinct alone, Zaraki anticipated where he would be, his blade slashing at Ichigo, but his hierro kept his sword from cutting. He snarled. “You think a man that doesn’t even know the name of his Zanpakuto can cut me?”
 
He blurred out of sight, dodging Zaraki’s follow up attack. He really did fight like a demon, but Grimmjow fought harder, this was child’s play.
 
Zaraki bellowed, “Stop moving so damn much!”
 
Ichigo dodged each jab and slash of Zaraki’s Zanpakuto. He didn’t need to, but he was riling him up. He jumped, moving too fast to see, and cut him across his shoulder. “Is that all you’ve got, Zaraki? Pathetic!”
 
The captain swung at him again and again, getting closer out of instinct alone. He was dangerous enough as a mad dog, if he ever attained true shikai, if he ever got

bankai

, he’d be a horror on the battlefield.
 
Zaraki grabbed his sword, the crazy bastard, using it to pull him in for an attack. He’d seen this before, and he was ready. He drew the trench knife, blocking his jab, their blades grinding against each other. He forced his guard open, slashing through his midsection. Zaraki was pushed back, his hand slipping from his blade in a gush of blood. His cuts weren’t so deep Zaraki would bleed out mid fight, but they weren’t scratches either. “Look at that, you got me to draw both swords.”
 
He pressured him, whirling with both swords. He didn’t go easy on Zaraki, the taicho didn’t understand his Zanpakuto, he didn’t

deserve

to win. The man still laughed, half mad with the prospect of finding someone stronger than him.
 
Zaraki was drenched in blood, but Ichigo knew he wouldn’t go down, not unless he finished this. “You really can’t hear that?”
 
Zaraki snapped, “Hear what?!”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, still hollow-like and dark. “Your Zanpakuto is screaming.”
 
“So fucking what? It’s a tool.” He gathered his energy in for an attack, yellow reiatsu cloaking him like fire.
 
“And that’s why you’re weak.” He raised his sword, black and red reiatsu gathering in and around his blade, eager to draw blood. “Getsuga!” He lunged forward and brought his blade down at the same time as Zaraki. “Tensho!” His reiatsu exploded, wiping out Zaraki’s attack in a column of power that could be seen from the far edges of Seireitei. The shreds of Zaraki’s power passed harmlessly over his skin and sword, dissipating under the pressure of his power.
 
“

Might have overdone it a bit there, King.

”
 
Ichigo hefted his sword over his shoulder, staring down at Zaraki. His sword was in two pieces, the man himself lying in a growing pool of blood.

He pissed me off.

“You think he’s dead?”
 
Yachiru appeared in a flurry of shunpo across from him. “Ken-chan won’t die, he has to fight you again!” She folded over in a bow. “Thank you! Because of you, Ken-chan had so much fun.”
 
Ichigo replaced the sword on his back and heaved a sigh. “When he wakes up, you tell him I won’t fight him again unless he knows the name of his Zanpakuto. Otherwise he’ll just be wasting my time.”
 
She bent down, hoisting Zaraki up on his shoulder to take him away. “Ken-chan would love to play again, I’ll be sure to tell him. Thanks again, Ichi-nii!” She braced herself and kicked off the ground, bounding up the buildings to the rooftops to take the injured taicho to the fourth division barracks.
 
Ichigo noticed familiar reiatsu nearby, looking around at the buildings. “Yoruichi?”
 
She appeared beside him, contemplating the blood spattering the ground. “Was it wise to let him live?”
 
Ichigo scoffed. “We’ll need someone like him in the future. Plus, he’s not half bad, once you get past the murderous psycho part.”
 
She looked up at him. “Are we talking about the same person?” She hopped up on his shoulder and changed the subject. “I’m pretty sure all of Seireitei felt your reiatsu just now, is that really okay?”
 
Ichigo felt her claws dig in as he shunpoed to the roof, racing away from Senzaikyu Shishinro. “Aizen’s already making his moves, he’s faked his own death, unless I do something wildly uncharacteristic, nothing should change.”
 
She asked, “Ichigo, where are you going?” It didn’t take a genius to see he was running

away

from Senzaikyu Shishinro.
 
He frowned, the very act of leaving his friends behind tearing at his heart, but it had to be done. “We can’t save Rukia just yet...or Hanataro, or Ganju. I can’t just show up like this, Byakuya will be able to tell I’m holding back. Also...if I go, I wouldn’t be able to leave without taking Rukia with me, and that can’t happen.”
 
“I see.”
 
Ichigo continued, “So I’m going to Uruhara’s Secret Hideout...that sounds so lame when you say it out loud.”
 
Her claws dug in a little deeper and Ichigo winced. “You know about the Hideout?”
 
“Obviously. Where do you think I trained for bankai?” He counted in his head. “We only have 2 days until the execution, that’s when Aizen will make his move.”
 
Realization crossed her face. “Ichi-Ichigo, you don’t mean...you achieved bankai in two days?”

He looked over at her. “Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”
 
“How?”
 
“I used that training method Urahara dreamt up. Soul Society was stupid to kick him out.”
 
She stared at him in disbelief. “Even using Kisuke’s technique, achieving bankai in 2 days, after only had shikai for a few days...That explains how you’re so monstrously powerful. You’re a frightening guy, Ichigo.”
 
He smiled. “What’s that face for? I’m on your side, remember?”
 
“I wouldn’t want to imagine if you weren’t.”

They got to the Hideout, and once Yoruichi was in her human form

and clothed

,  Ichigo raised his reiatsu to about the level he’d had it in the past. Yoruichi asked about that, wondering if he was actually trying to get them found out, and was surprised to learn that he was.
 
“Renji trained for bankai too, he was a lot closer than I was to achieving it, and he found me by sensing my reiatsu. He’s supposed to fight Byakuya, and he’s supposed to lose.” He explained the rest of the events he knew based on what his friends had told him, and what he’d observed.
 
He thought he might have been forgetting some things, but he remembered enough to let Yoruichi know where he was going to be, and what she shouldn’t prevent from happening.
 
“You know Aizen’s shikai?”
 
A frown clouded her features, confirming that suspicion. “He never did release his shikai around me. By then he had the Hogyoku.”
 
“How do you plan to defeat him?”
 
“He’s arrogant, he’ll expect that he’s stronger than me, but without a complete, awakened Hogyoku, he doesn’t stand a chance.”
 
“But if he releases his-”
 
He cut her off. “If you’re touching the blade, he can’t hypnotize you, it’s his one weakness. I won’t let him run.”
 
Yoruichi’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve only really come to know the you from the future, but I have the feeling you’re different. Would the old you be so prepared for this?”
 
“No.”
 
Her look became thoughtful, but she let it drop. “Get some sleep Ichigo.” She crossed over to him and jabbed him in the chest. “And I do mean

you

, not the hollow.”
 
He opened his mouth to argue, but Yoruichi’s expression softened and he paused. “Ichigo. You can trust me, at least let me do

something

.”
 
“Yoruichi…You know, you helped me a lot in the past, I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. I’m just returning the favor.”
 
She put her hands on her hips and turned, hiding her expression. “It doesn’t count when

I

don’t remember.”
 
“You haven’t changed.” She turned to look at him, but he was already across the room, propping his swords against the wall. He shook out the bedroll and then laid down on his side with his back to the room.
 
Her eyes widened at the meaning behind that gesture. For someone like Ichigo, that meant more than words could explain. He really did trust her.
 
He rested his head on his arm and tried to sleep, and he was more exhausted than he’d realized. His first time through, his battles had been filled with bouts of unconsciousness, but this time, he’d been awake and alert through all of it.
 
He fell asleep faster than he thought he would have, but Yoruichi’s reiatsu was familiar and comforting. She was strong, she would protect him…..
 
He was jolted awake by an arm tight around his neck in a chokehold. He blinked, confused, staring down at Yoruichi, his hands tight around her throat. Her hands tried to pry his off, but his reiatsu was a heavy blanket pressing down around them. Her eyes were rolling back in her head, drool wetting her chin. She was seconds away from falling unconscious, and he remembered

none

of it.
 
His hands snapped back like he’d been burned, and the arm around his neck tightened in warning, dragging him away from her. His hollow spoke from behind him. “
You okay, Yoruichi?
”
 
She rolled to her side and coughed, holding herself up on trembling arms. She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm, catching her breath. Her voice was rough, he was surprised he hadn’t crushed her throat. “I’ll live, how is he?”
 
He realized he could barely breathe himself, and his hollow’s hold loosened. “
You in there, King?
”
 
He was drenched in sweat, his own voice sounding hoarse. “What happened?”
 
“
Nightmare. Something about Szayelaporro.
”
 
“Shit.” Zangetsu let him go, and the first thing he did was shift to his knees, his forehead pressed to the ground. “Yoruichi, I’m sorry,

I’m sorry

…” He was having flashbacks to Ishida, to his bankai sticking through his guts. He hadn’t even been conscious for that, that image was one he’d only seen in his nightmares weeks later, and now he wondered how he’d never remembered.
 
He felt Yoruichi’s hand on his head. “Ichigo, get up. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
 
“I was going to kill you!” He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he didn’t move, squeezing his eyes shut to stop them. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard that it hurt, his reiatsu fleetingly unstable.
 
“I was careless, it’s not your fault. Ichigo, please get up.” Her voice was soft, soothing, despite the roughness. Her fingers slid through his hair and he really did cry. “I keep forgetting how young you are.”
 
He looked up at her, tears streaking his cheeks, and she dragged him into a stiff, one armed hug. He supposed it might have been awkward in any other situation, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. He could feel Zangetsu hovering nearby, offering silent support. Zangetsu helped him, but at the end of the day, he was still a piece of his own soul. She held him while he held himself, one arm around his shoulders, and let him cry. She didn’t ask him questions, she didn’t say anything, she was just

there

.
 
He grit his teeth, his tears slipping silently over his cheeks. He’d gotten so good at hiding that pain, only his shoulders shook. He’d nearly killed her, the only remnants of the nightmare to blame were pain, fear, vulnerability, and the raging desire to make it all stop.
 
He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, awkwardly half in her lap. They hadn’t said anything at all in over an hour, Ichigo was getting tired, and while he was still shaken, he’d clamped down on all the feelings he’d let loose.
 
He pulled away, his neck screaming in protest. He rubbed it and sat there, eyes red as he stared at his Zanpakuto’s. He could still see Ishida impaled on his bankai, eyes wide in pain and shock. He said he wouldn’t make the same mistakes, and here he was, making the same fucking mistakes. Zangetsu hadn’t moved, still standing behind him, waiting. He knew he felt all he felt and then some, he was grateful he had nothing to say to mock him. “Thanks...Yoruichi.”
 
She reached out to touch his cheek, earning his attention and erasing the last traces of his tears. She drew her hand back and smiled, her usual cocky smirk. “I’m your friend, Ichigo. You have

a lot

of friends. Don’t forget it; we’re here for you.” She shifted her legs to stand, stiff from being still for so long.
 
He started again. “I’m-”
 
“I told you, Ichigo,” her tone was sharp, chiding, “you have nothing to apologize for. Now you really do need to sleep.” She grimaced. “I’d give you something to help, but we all need you alert if necessary.”
 
“I agree.”
 
His brows furrowed in distress. “Please don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them to worry.”
 
“I won’t, but Ichigo, keeping secrets will worry them more than the truth. Try to remember that. I won’t force you to do anything, but at least talk to someone, even if it’s your Zanpakuto.

Please

.” She stated it like an order, worry clouding her features.
 
She stared at him until Ichigo looked away, then stood, stretching. “You’re too strong to look so sad.” She went into the other room, giving him the space she knew he needed.
 
He sat in silence for awhile, then got up and laid back on the bedroll with a sigh. He looked at Zangetsu and asked quietly. “How bad was it, really?”
 
Zangetsu sat next to him cross-legged, thinking. “
Well, your reiatsu spiked pretty badly, Yoruichi was worried how many captains would notice. She tried to wake ya up, and, well, y’know the rest.
”
 
“I don’t remember my nightmare.”
 
“
From what ya were shouting, it was definitely a memory. Still can’t really remember Szayelaporro?
”
 
“Only pieces.”
 
“
We know what you know. I can’t remember if you don’t.
”
 
“I know.” Ichigo lifted his hands to rub over his face, then dropped his hands to his stomach.
 
“

Sleep, Ichigo. We’re watching.

”
 
He muttered, “Haven’t heard from ya’ in awhile, Ossan.”
 
“

You’ve kept your quincy powers at bay, which is smart, it’s suspicious enough that you have the reiatsu of a hollow.

”
 
“Ah.” True enough, the only person that might have noticed was Ishida, and he hadn’t seen him since they broke through the barrier. He closed his eyes, then rolled to his side, curling up in a ball. Fuck Szayel, fuck him for making him feel weak. He only remembered flashes, but none of the memories were good.
 
“
I almost feel bad for Byakuya.
”
 
“Why’s that?”
 
“
He’s going to be facing you when you’re in an awful mood.
”
 
Zangetsu was right, nightmares like this always shortened his patience and his temper. He lifted his hand to his side, old wounds along his back twinging. He’d been very careful no one saw, he wasn’t ready for those kind of questions. “Is it bad that I’m looking forward to killing him?”
 
“
Szayelaporro?
” Zangetsu thought about it. “
I’m looking forward to it too. Fuckin’ asshole...
”
 
He muttered, “You look forward to killing

anything

.”
 
The silence stretched, and he felt himself slipping into sleep again. “
Aizen first, King.
”
 
This time there were no nightmares, his dreams were sweet, recalling his battle with Aizen instead. He was ready, that bastard wasn’t going to get away, not again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo woke up with a bit of a headache, but he felt remarkably rested given the circumstances. Zangetsu faded away now that he wasn’t needed, and he replaced his Zanpakutos on his back and at his hip. It felt weird not to have them at hand, he liked knowing he could defend himself at a moment’s notice.
 
He was distracted, barely exchanging a mouthful of words with Yoruichi before she left and returned with food. He was grateful she didn’t bring up the night before, his pride might not have been able to take it, and he thought she understood. He would have plenty of time to deal with whatever fun new psychosis he was harboring once Aizen was dead.
 
After a bite to eat, Ichigo raised his reiatsu again for Renji to find, and sat down with his Zanpakutos in his lap in the stance for jinzen. He was use to getting yanked in and out of his inner world, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it so formally.
 
He was still awful at meditation, and by the time he calmed his rattled heart and got close, he sensed Renji’s reiatsu nearby. He muttered a curse and opened his eyes, but didn’t get up, watching as Renji made a characteristically loud entrance, an explosion raining down debris around the base of the ladder. He didn’t have to bust up the hatch, stupid pineapple.
 
Renji jumped, landing at the base of the ladder in a crouch. Dust cleared as the fukutaicho stood and hefted his Zanpakuto to his shoulder. His voice echoed in the cavern. “Hooo, what’s this? A secret underground training base?”
 
Ichigo’s tone was flat when he called up to him. “About time you found us, Renji.”
 
“What was that?!”
 
Ichigo wasn’t really in the mood. He spoke fast. “You came to tell us Rukia’s execution date has been moved up to noon tomorrow and you want to practice bankai, right? Get to it then.”
 
Renji sounded skeptical. “How do you know that?” Ichigo didn’t feel the need to answer.
 
He closed his eyes, content to ignore him, but his scowl deepened when Renji poked him in the head with his Zanpakuto and taunted, “What, the ryoka is too good for bankai training?”
 
“I already have bankai.” He didn’t open his eyes, hoping he would just go away.
 
Renji was taken aback, incredulous. “

What

?! You’re joking.”
 
He leveled a flat stare at him, his reiatsu curling around him in annoyance. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
 
Yoruichi seemed to be able to sense his mood better than Renji. She called out from across the training field in warning. “Leave him alone, Renji.”
 
Renji didn’t heed her warning, real irritation leaking into his voice. “So you’re going to waste time

napping

instead of training to save Rukia? Was that promise you made worth nothing?!”
 
Ichigo had just about had it. He wasn't alone, sure, but was the only one that knew just how much was at stake if he failed. He couldn't fail, not again, but he wasn't sure if what he was feeling was confidence, or denial. There was at least one thing he knew for sure, and that was his own power. Renji wanted to pick a fight, then so be it.
 
He let his reiatsu go, he didn’t even try to slow that metaphorical rope, he just let the weight fall, stopping it short of suffocating. Renji fell to his knees, sweat rolling up his face. It wasn’t shinigami reiatsu, it was hollow reiatsu, through and through. “

I’m meditating.”

He wasn’t sure, but from the look on Renji’s face, he thought his eyes might have changed. He was biased now, seeing Zangetsu’s eyes didn’t frighten him anymore, they were simply familiar, but he knew from the outside, they were less than friendly.
 
He didn’t throw his power around for the fun of it, despite his anger, there was a purpose. Renji didn’t believe he was strong enough, he was a tactile sort of guy, but now he had proof.
 
He pulled back his reiatsu, the collar taking the brunt of the work now that he wasn’t fighting against it. Renji sucked in a breath now that he could, jumping back and brandishing his sword at him. “What are you? You’re clearly not the kid I fought a few days ago.”
 
He looked older, sure, but not enough to be confused with someone else, even if the first time Renji saw him in person it was dark and short lived. Was he really that different?
 
He was tired of keeping secrets from his friends, and it wasn’t like Renji would magically

not

challenge Byakuya because he revealed

when

he was from. The idiot was far too stubborn for that. He knew he lost, but he respected Renji’s feelings, that fight was his.
 
He said, “I think I’d know if I wasn’t me. I’m Ichigo, I’m just a few years displaced.”
 
“What does that even mean?”
 
Yoruichi appeared behind him, but he didn’t look. She confirmed what he said. “He’s from the future, he’s telling the truth.”
 
“That’s crazy,-

you’re crazy

! H-how-”
 
“Not important.” Ichigo cut him off, closing his eyes again. “I’m a visored. A shinigami/hollow hybrid.

A pissed off

visored, so let me meditate.”
 
Renji was silent for a moment, and Ichigo hoped that meant he would leave. He was mistaken. “So you know what’s gonna happen?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Do we-”
 
“

Yes

.” Ichigo struggled to stay relaxed and manifested Zangetsu, which earned a startled yelp from Renji.
 
Zangetsu sauntered closer, his eyes narrowed in the promise of violence. “
You really do wanna back off now. Go achieve bankai, King’s sorting out his headspace, makes him testy.
”
 
The closer Zangetsu got to Renji, the farther away the fukutaicho moved, which was their plan to begin with. He'd really only done it to prove he'd mastered bankai, so maybe he'd have more backing to his story.
 
Renji summoned his own Zanpakuto spirit, and Ichigo thought that meant he was going to bugger off to train. He was wrong. He asked, “Why’s your Zanpakuto look like you?”
 
“
Visored.
” It was a half truth, but neither Zangetsu nor Ichigo felt the need to elaborate.

Hopefully he doesn’t notice you only carry one sword and I carry two. That would be annoying to explain.

Zangetsu disappeared back into his mind. “

He doesn’t seem that sharp, but who cares, he’s not one of the ones you need to hide that from, is it?

”
 
Yoruichi spoke up from somewhere behind him. “Actually, what

are

you doing?”
 
Ichigo had far more patience with Yoruichi than Renji. Renji hovered nearby to hear his answer, not that he cared. “When I fight,

he’s

going to be watching. I’ll need to be able to hollowfy without raising too much suspicion. If he sees I’ve become a perfected hybrid, he may alter his plan. Consequently, dabbling around with my hollow powers makes me cranky, which is why I’m trying to

do this in jinzen!

” He raised his voice at the end for Renji’s benefit.

Napping

, psh.
 
His abrupt reacquaintance with old memories hadn’t helped his mood much either, but throwing his reiatsu out of whack was what made him nearly lose his mind the first time around. Luckily, his hollow now had an understanding with him, this wasn’t a struggle for control anymore, even if Zangetsu still insisted on calling him King. From what he understood, his relationship with his inner spirits was….strange, but it worked well enough for him. “

Now

can I meditate?”
 
There were no objections, so he pushed his heart back down towards his sword and his mindscape. It took a few minutes to relax enough to do it, but he managed.
 
He opened his eyes in his inner world, almost nose to nose with Zangetsu. He flash-stepped back by instinct, but to his credit, he didn't yelp. “Don't

do

that.” His hollow's yellow eyes narrowed in a smirk, not in the least bit repentant.
 
Ichigo looked around and noted the lack of Zangetsu-no-ossan. “Where is he?”
 
“Holding back your Quincy power for you since you suck at it.”
 
Oh. “Think

you

can be bothered to hold back so I don't fully transform?”
 
“Just the mask?” He crossed his arms and gave him a flatly judgemental look. “It’s

your

power, King.”
 
Ichigo sighed. “You know what I mean. I can’t let my quincy reiatsu out, which is usually how I’d suppress and control my hollow form. I’ve never held back both before, and even with the suppressor, pulling out my mask might break the thing.”
 
“So fuckin’ what?”
Zangetsu still failed to see how too much power was a problem.
“Aizen shows up right after you defeat Byakuya anyway.”
 
“And back then Aizen

knew

I was weak. I don’t know how he was watching me, but the fact remains that he was. His plans might change if he realizes he’s underestimated me. He won’t take it out on us, he’ll go after my friends.”
 
“You know the one I want to protect is you.”
 
Ichigo tightened his jaw, and Zangetsu matched his resolve with his own. This was an old fight, and a concept Zangetsu only swayed on when Ichigo’s life wasn’t on the line. “You saw what happened when I lost everyone. Protecting them

is

protecting me.”
 
“I ain’t that complicated, King. I want

you

to live. You’re alive, ain’t cha’?”
His face twisted into a snarl, baring blackened teeth and challenging Ichigo to fight him on it.
 
“Ah. I’m alive.” This wasn’t a fight he could win, his hollow was as stubborn as he was. He looked to the side, out at the stars and the skyscrapers that were slowly but steadily sinking into the sand, sinking deeper with every nightmare and doubt. He fought it, but after so long, he simply ignored it. That might not have been wise, but he didn’t have time to stop and sort out his feelings.
 
With this desert as the alternative, they almost missed the rain. The death of his sisters burned away his despair with the fire of rage, and what was left in the ashes was so much worse. He'd never recovered from that failure.
“Was this what you wanted?”
 
He knew it wasn't, he didn't expect an answer. Zangetsu’s anger melted away, replaced with a look Ichigo understood, but couldn’t name. They understood each other, because they were the same.
 
Zangetsu wanted to protect him, and Ichigo’s failure was also his failure. Byakuya wasn’t a threat, giving in wasn’t putting Ichigo at risk.
“Ya wanna just pull our mask,

practice

. I'll hold back.”
Ichigo knew this fight wasn’t over, it was only ever on hold. It would come back full force eventually.
 
He felt the reserve of his shinigami power recede even further, something that both Ichigo and Zangetsu didn't enjoy, but Ichigo knew it was necessary. “Thanks, Zangetsu.”
 
“Don't thank me ya fuckin’ idiot.

Get better

.”
He sat to watch, a scowl on his face. Ichigo knew he hated this, at least he was humoring him. He didn’t necessarily enjoy it either, but he needed to learn control eventually, and he’d never bothered. He finally understood Aizen, the bastard, when he goaded them on Sōkyoku Hill. It was hard to hold back when you had so much power you could cleave mountains with a swing of your sword.
 
He lifted his hand over his face in a claw and

pulled

.
 
Black reiatsu condensed underneath his palm and formed into a mask, two thick black stripes running down over each eye, cascading down over sharp cheekbones, boney teeth then over the jaw of the mask. Two bone-white bull horns cut forward from the mask in sharp angles with a vein of black running through them.
 
Instead of the transformation ending at his mask, black lines cut down his neck, veering towards his chest. His hair lengthened, his fingers sharpening into claws, and he doubled over with a low, hollow sounding growl of frustration.
 
Zangetsu inversely mirrored Ichigo’s transformation, a black mask with white stripes forming on his face. His eyes narrowed at the strain of limiting their reserves when their power multiplied. This was Zangetsu-no-ossan’s specialty, especially after he’d been doing it for most of Ichigo’s life. Zangetsu had never done the supressing, he was always the one being suppressed. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, this was practice for him too.
 
Ichigo warred against his own power, straining to keep it limited without going berserk. Without his quincy power to push against it, it was harder than he thought it would be. He felt the burning desire to fight, his hands tightening into fists. This was too much, all he wanted was the mask.
 
“Gonna have to try harder than that, King.”
 
“Shut up.”
His voice had the same distorted echo as Zangetsu. The black marks on his chest receded, but didn’t go away. Even with Zangetsu holding back, controlling a power that wanted nothing more than to consume him was trying.
 
He let it go completely, his mask shattering into fragments that disappeared once they hit the side of the skyscraper. The drain on his power was notable, but not immense. He had a feeling this was going to take a long time, and doing something in his inner world was always a bit different than trying it outside of it. Once he got the hang of it here, he would have to do it again outside.
 
He reached to try again, the surge of his hollow reiatsu once more rushing up to meet him like a hurricane.

--- xxx ---

Renji achieved bankai some hours later, leaving after a brief exchange of words with Yoruichi. She watched him go, then continued waiting for Ichigo. They had until noon the next day, and whatever Ichigo was working on, she wasn’t privy to.
 
Ichigo finally opened his eyes once it was already well into the night, and Yoruichi looked over in curiosity. “How did it go?”
 
He got up, ‘sheathing’ his swords in the bandages his shikai always manifested in. “Alright.”
 
“Just alright?” She got a bit closer, watching him for any sign of injury.
 
“I need to try it outside my inner world, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Can you shield my reiatsu?”
 
She narrowed her eyes in thought. “How much reiatsu?”
 
“A lot.”
 
“If not all of it, I can get most of it. How long?”
 
He looked down and away, listening inward. “Hopefully only a few minutes.”
 
“Wait a moment.” She started a kido chant, flinging her arms outwards. The kido formed a glowing yellow box around them, passing through boulders and rocks like they weren’t there. She held her arms out, palms glowing yellow. “Go, Ichigo.”
 
He bent forward and warned, “Don’t panic.” She’d never seen this form, though he knew she knew about arrancar and visoreds. He thought a warning was only polite. His reiatsu was normally a calm, heavy presence, but when he tensed his hand in a claw over his eyes, it grew darker, violent.
 
He pulled his hand across his face, his hollow mask forming. He straightened and lifting a hand to his mask. It felt a bit different outside his mind, but it was stable. His transformation stopped at his mask, even if his power was still surging under the surface. He let out a heavy breath, his reiatsu pressuring the kido that bound him. He didn’t like being trapped, it made him angry, and it was all too easy to accept that anger. Drown in it.
 
He looked up at Yoruichi, yellow irises framed in black, her eyes wide. He was expecting that, he didn’t really look like an ally when he was like this, and he thought this might be one of the first times she’d seen a visored in person. He let the mask shatter and forced the power away, content in the knowledge he could draw on it without completely transforming at all.
 
“

It will get easier, Ichigo.”

The instant his dark reiatsu dissipated, she let the kidou drop, trying not to show how shaken she was. “Ichigo, what was that?”
 
“Visored, remember? Just making sure I can hold back. I don’t want to kill Byakuya, I just need to win.” He gave her space while she got absorbed that knowledge. “How long until Rukia’s execution?”
 
She answered tonelessly. “6 hours.”
 
Ichigo nodded, not looking forward to sleep, but if he wanted to be at his best, he’d need some before he faced Byakuya and Aizen. He needed to replenish his reiryoku. Attempting hollowfication for several hours was a bit exhausting. At least Renji was wearing down Byakuya a bit, and this time around, it wasn’t his first time with a bankai, and he was well aware of Byakuya’s abilities, from his bankai to his kido. He didn’t stand a chance.
 
He turned his back to her, retreating to the side room to sleep. “Then I’ll see you in a few hours.” She let him go without comment, and this time, Ichigo had Zangetsu take control. He could experiment with his nightmares later, but for now, he just needed to replenish his stamina. He was so close to killing Aizen he was nearly shaking with anticipation.

“Soon, King. Sleep.”

--- xxx ---

Ichigo parted ways with Yoruichi sometime that morning, and he now waited a couple of miles away from Sōkyoku Hill. His shunpo was quick enough to get him between the Sōkyoku and Rukia in time, and he didn’t want the captains to notice him. Sitting on his hands and waiting was harder than he thought it would be. He crouched, hand on the hilt of his Zanpakuto, as he took in the events on the Hill.
 
Waiting was agonizing. Just knowing Rukia was facing her death when he could stop it fed his guilt. He knew it was necessary. He wasn’t nearly smart enough to predict how changes might affect the timeline. And so he waited.
 
Even though he was over a mile away, Ichigo could see the fire and feel the power of the Sōkyoku when it was fully released. He surged forward when it reared back to strike, the dead trees on Sōkyoku Hill passing by in a nauseating blur.
 
He stood on footholds of reishi before Rukia, his hand on his Zanpakuto as the firebird clashed against the blade. He didn’t even notice the pressure behind the flaming power. It was easy the first time around, but this time it was laughably so. If he hit it with a getsuga, it would be ashes, but he waited for Shunsui Kyōraku taicho and Jūshirō Ukitake taicho. Their so called ‘betrayal’ was important to distract Yama-jii as he fought Byakuya.
 
It felt just as good the second time he was sticking it to Seireitei as the first time. The grin that spread across his face was genuine as he stared across at Rukia. His chest tightened, seeing her alive after so long, but he was far too happy to see her to let those feelings show.
 
She opened her eyes in confusion, fully expecting to be dead. She blinked, and took in his silhouette in wide-eyed surprise.
 
“Yo.”
 
“Ichigo!” Her expression crumpled in pain, and his heart ached in empathy. He understood those feelings all too well, but he didn’t let his confident smirk slip. Both of them couldn’t fall to pieces. Rukia needed him. Orihime, Ishida, Chad, Renji,

everyone

. He couldn’t slip. Not yet.
 
She gathered herself impressively fast, he’d always admired her strength. “You IDIOT! Why did you come here?! You should know you can’t defeat my brother! You’ll be killed this time for sure!”
 
He was expecting her little tirade, and while her heart was in the right place, he

knew

he would win, just like he had known the first time he’d stood between Rukia and the Sōkyoku.
 
“I’m resigned to my fate, I don’t need you to rescue me!

Go home!

”
 
His smile softened to hear her shout at him again. It was skewed with her about to be executed, but he’d missed this.
 
The Sōkyoku backed off, but this time he expected it, swaying forward as it prepared to attack again. He turned, sword drawn, and prepared to counter, but he knew that unless something drastic had changed the timeline, Shunsui and Ukitake would pull through and destroy it. “Come on.”
 
“Ichigo! Enough!” He ignored her, her concerns just as baseless as the first time. “You’ll be torn to pieces! Ichigo!”
 
The Sōkyoku lunged, and he braced himself in case they were late. The fiery inferno grew closer, his eyes narrowing in annoyance rather than concentration. Just like before, the rope spiralled around its neck, stopping it short.
 
He watched as the two taicho’s completed the ritual to destroy the firebird, the rope unraveling until it reached its neck, and the firebird burst, utterly destroyed.
 
Fire rained down on the hill and he smiled. “Good timing.” He flipped back to land on the Sōkyoku stand, raising his Zanpakuto and his reiatsu with it to destroy the thing.
 
Rukia cried, “Ichigo, what are you doing!”
 
He swung his Zanpakuto by the bandages, answering. “Isn’t it obvious, Rukia?”
 
His reiatsu spiked when he caught the handle, Zangetsu angled to strike. “Just shut up and watch.”
 
He drove it down into the stand with a nameless Getsuga Tensho. Blue energy ripped through it, obliterating any Kidou in its way. The sound was deafening, a shockwave tearing through the sky around Sōkyoku Hill, smashing straight through the plateau in an explosion of dust. The satisfaction of destroying the thing that was about to steal his friend away made his heart pound.

Good riddance.

He caught Rukia before she could fall, carrying her under his arm as he had the first time.
 
She was so small, but he knew she wasn’t weak. It pissed him off to know that she was helpless, nearly human, all by the hand of Seireitei and their fucking laws. She wasn’t a criminal, she was a hero. She’d saved his family, she’d led him down the path that had granted him power. He’d failed once, but he wouldn’t fail again, he wouldn’t squander the gift she’d given him.
 
Cleaver hefted on one shoulder, he groused, “

Don’t save me

, you said,

Go home

, you said. You talk too much. I already told you, I’m rejecting all your requests. I’m saving you, Rukia.”
 
He pretended not to notice her tears. “I’m not going to thank you...idiot.”
 
“Ah.” She deserved a minute, she thought she was going to die, and now she was saved. He knew how jarring that felt.
 
Rukia, ever the voice of reason, voiced her concerns. “Ah...Ichigo...how are we going to escape?”
 
“We’ll run away.”
 
“They’re captains!” she argued.
 
“So we’ll beat them up,

then

run away.” He looked up. “It’s not just me, it’s Orihime, Ishida, Chad, Hanataro, Ganju, Renji...I’ll rescue everyone, then we’ll go home.” His answer felt nostalgic, and his determination at backing up that promise was stronger than it had ever been.
 
He noticed some action down below, smirking when he caught sight of Renji. He called, “Oy! I was wondering when you’d get here, Renji!”
 
Rukia called his name, more than surprised to see her friend than he was.
 
The red-head called back. “Who else was gonna rescue Rukia!”
 
He smiled and lifted Rukia by the belt, much to Rukia and Renji’s panic. He threw Rukia straight at Renji, knowing they’d both be fine.
 
Her screech echoed all the way to Renji’s arms, crashing into him and sending them both flying. They shouted up at him in protest. He ignored their complaints and called out to Renji. “Don’t let her go, no matter what!”
 
The reminder was enough to send Renji on his way, lifting Rukia in his arms and running for the edge of Sōkyoku Hill.
 
Again, Soifon ordered the fukutaicho’s to chase after him, and he was just as unimpressed now as he was in the past. In a single step, he was between them and his escaping friends. He spun his cleaver around, stabbing it into the ground.
 
He stopped them all with well placed attacks, shattering their Zanpakuto. It was pitifully easy. Even if they hit him, their Zanpakutos wouldn’t have hurt him. They were so strong during the war, he’d nearly forgotten how weak they were before it. He felt a stab of guilt at how hard he hit one of them, annoyed that he couldn’t remember the fukutaicho’s  name.
 
He felt Byakuya closing the distance, lifting his Zanpakuto to block his attack. He faced the taicho and smiled, thrilled by the look of confusion on the taicho’s face. Prick probably hadn’t had his sword stopped like that in years. “Oy, is that all you’ve got, Byakuya?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

He felt Byakuya closing the distance, lifting his Zanpakuto to block his attack. He faced the taicho and smiled, thrilled by the look of confusion on the taicho’s face. Prick probably hadn’t had his sword stopped like that in years. “Oy, is that all you’ve got, Byakuya?”

Byakuya questioned, “Why?” Ichigo frowned at him, anticipating the question. “Why do you keep trying to save Rukia?”
 
“I’ll answer you with another question. Why aren’t

you

trying to save her? Aren’t you her brother? A brother is suppose to protect his sister!” He pushed forward, forcing Byakuya to take a step back.
 
“What a foolish question. Even if I told you, someone like you would never understand.”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, feeling his rage spike into a near tangible thing. “You’re right, I don’t understand.”
 
“So it seems talking is pointless.” Ichigo thought he heard frustration in his voice, but he couldn’t be sure.
 
Their reiatsu clashed, flaring around their blades, both trying to pressure the other back. Rather, Byakuya tried, and Ichigo pretended to struggle. Ichigo let his rise, leaning against Byakuya’s power. Byakuya’s brow furrowed, not expecting to be be pressured by a mere ryoka.
 
Ichigo twisted the hilt of his sword, angling the blade so Byakuya’s weight on his sword was forced downward. The blades of their Zanpakuto slid, then grinded apart when Ichigo pushed forward. The concussion of power cracked the ground beneath their feet and both distanced themselves.
 
Ichigo tightened his grip on Zangetsu and waited for Byakuya’s next attack. Pretending to be weak was an insult to Byakuya, but one he couldn’t help. Once he killed Aizen, there would be plenty of time for apologies. For now, he had his role to play and Kuchiki had his.
 
Byakuya warned, “I

will

kill you Kurosaki Ichigo,” he shifted his grip on his sword, changing his stance, “and this time...I’ll execute Rukia myself.”
 
He tried to force away the feelings that clawed at his throat. He didn’t understand how Byakuya could just let his sister die, how he would even be willing to do it himself. He felt like he was going to be sick, his stomach twisting into knots at the thought of hurting his own sisters.
 
That glassy look in Yuzu’s eyes. She was looking in his direction, but wasn’t seeing. The gentle hum of her soul was missing, gone. It couldn’t be gone, that meant-He thought there would be more blood, she would have looked fine if it wasn’t for-
 
“

King.

”
 
The harsh, echoing tones of his hollow broke him from his thoughts with a jolt. His hands were shaking, and he willed them to stop. This was the first time he’d seen Byakuya in this timeline, and he wasn’t expecting this to hit him so hard. He’d been angry the first time, but this was something deeper, darker The feeling in his heart spread to his fingertips, trying to pull him into the void.

His sisters were still alive

. They were on summer break making memories. Karin was fighting low level hollows with Don Kanonji and Jinta, and Kisuke and his father were watching them; they were alive.

Alive

. Calm down.

Calm down

.
 
His hands steadied, his reiatsu settling from its chaotic pitch into something purposeful. “I’m not going to let you do that.” He was confident in his ability to back up that promise, and it had little to do with the fact he knew he was stronger.
 
Byakuya moved first, slow compared to the Byakuya he remembered. He matched his speed and dropped low, Zangetsu held parallel to the ground.
 
The next blow was like the first, their swords clashed along with their reiatsu as Byakuya tested him for weakness. He could follow Byakuya’s thoughts in the casual, but careful way he struck at him. He was wondering how a mere ryoka could match a nobleman, a taicho. A ryoka that he had, only days ago, effortlessly dispatched.
 
He fell into a familiar dance of zanjutsu, easily countering Byakuya’s attacks, much to the taicho’s growing frustration. The shock of their swords clashing sang in his bones and his blood. He dodged as much as he parried, playing with Byakuya.
 
Distantly, he noted the conflict happening closer to Yama-jii and the other captains. Now that he didn’t need to have so much focus on Byakuya, he realized what was happening. Yama-jii chased after the other taichos, and Unohana took the fukutaicho’s to the fourth division, he assumed. Yoruichi’s sudden presence tackling Soifon wasn’t shocking, but it wasn’t something he remembered. He’d been so preoccupied with not dying the first time around, the background to his fight with Byakuya was all a blur.
 
He bored of Byakuya’s analytical nature and jumped back, feet sliding in the dirt. He spun his sword, resting it over his shoulders. “You haven’t even put a scratch on me yet. I thought you were going to kill me?” He couldn't help some of the disgust in his voice. Despite his best efforts, the reason he was fighting Byakuya hadn't been forgotten. “Is that all you’ve got? Show me your bankai, Byakuya.”
 
The first time around, he’d been eager, even cocky. Now he was both angry and impatient.

“I’m going to crush it.”

The taicho scowled, and Ichigo hoped his pride was suffering. The bastard shouldn't feel an ounce of pride for what he'd almost let happen, what he insisted was his duty.
 
“Your words are cheap. Talk all you want, it won’t change Rukia’s fate, or your own.” The noble raised his sword in front of his face, light catching the edge of the blade. “Chire, Senbonzakura.”
 
From the top to the hilt, the blade scattered into hundreds of petals, light glinting off the blades like sakura blossoms. They swirled around him in a spiral that was actually rather beautiful. Ichigo wondered how someone as rigid and seemingly heartless as Byakuya could have such a pretty, yet deadly Zanpakuto.
 
He waited for the cascade of deadly petals to grow closer, then brought his zanpakuto down in a rather tame getsuga tensho. Pale blue reiatsu arced from the edge of his blade, smashing through Byakuya’s shikai with pure power. His attack cut a deep swath through the rock, grazing Byakuya and dissipating over the edge of the plateau.
 
Blood pattered on the ground, Byakuya’s arm and sleeve torn and bloody. It was easy to scatter his blades when he fought him the first time, and it was easy now, but the look on Byakuya’s face was still priceless. Slowly, his shikai gathered itself, forming back into a sword. The shinigami stared at him in wide eyed shock. “Is that the power of your Zanpakuto?”
 
“Ah.” Ichigo replaced his Zanpakuto on his shoulder. “I can keep this up all day. Can you? Show me your bankai.” While it would be entertaining to show Byakuya his own bankai, it wasn't the time nor the place.
 
Byakuya scowled across the expanse at him, then lifted the blade, point down before him. “Very well….if you wish for it so strongly. Behold, my bankai.” He let the sword go, and as it hit the ground it appeared to sink into the ground and dissolve into light.
 
Great blades rose up from the ground in rows, extending back into space, then dissolved into many billions of flower petal like blades. “Ban..kai.”
 
Ichigo leaned forward, his hand tightening on the hilt. He was strong, but Byakuya’s bankai was still formidable.
 
“Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.”
 
The petals formed into waves of metal death rushing forward in glinting pastel waves. Ichigo disappeared, reappearing several yards above Sokyoku Hill. The petals adjusted their course to chase him, but they were still too slow. He swung his sword, attacking with a getsuga. The petals blocked his attack, morphing into a wall, then congealed to attack.
 
He disappeared, reappearing behind him. Byakuya turned, and he knew the taicho hadn’t been able to follow him. The streams of flower petals trailed his movement, still too slow. He didn’t have any intention of going into bankai. He couldn’t, not without either revealing what he was or revealing his quincy power. He didn’t want Seireitei to know about that power. Not yet.
 
He lurched forward into a run, well aware his speed with impossible to follow. Byakuya’s eyes widened, lifting his hands to direct his bankai more directly. He spend up, but even with so many blades and an increase in speed, Byakuya couldn’t catch him.
 
He stopped inside Byakuya’s guard, right behind him. His sword was lowered, he didn’t need it for this. His fingertips rested right above his heart, his voice flat. “Dead.” He was gone before Byakuya even turned to attack, flower petals slicing nothing but air.
 
He spoke again from in front of Byakuya, now several yards away. “Not bad, but you’re still slow.” The taicho whirled to face him.
 
He scowled. “Miracles only happen once.”
 
“Miracles aren’t real. The only truth is power.” His answer seemed to unsettle Byakuya, it implied Ichigo was inherently stronger.
 
Ichigo hunched forward, lifting his hand in a claw over his face. He watched him from between his fingers. “I’ll only show you once.”
 
He felt Zangetsu’s power rise up to meet his, his reiatsu twisting and becoming black and red. He raked his hand down, reiatsu congealing into a striped mask on his face. His horns pointed directly at the taicho, yellow eyes glowing from behind his mask. Byakuya stiffened instinctively, eyes wide, pulling the blossoms around him in defense.
 
He could kill him, and it would be so easy.

“Scared, Byakuya?”

His voice was hard to read beneath the echoing tones so reminiscent of Zangetsu. His hollow was surprisingly silent, but he knew it was taking a lot of effort to hold themselves back.
 
“What are you?”
 
“Does it matter?”
 
He didn’t use shunpo, he didn’t need it to outpace Byakuya as he was now. He advanced, closing the distance between them in a single step, appearing to Byakuya to vanish. He angled his sword up to slash his chest, bold enough to not give a damn about defense. He couldn’t use a getsuga without killing him, his attack was merely a byproduct of swinging his sword.
 
Byakuya’s petals congealed into a defensive wall, but it wasn’t enough to stop the pressure from his attack. It sent Byakuya sliding back several feet on his heels, petals scattering as his reiatsu was disrupted by Ichigo’s own.
 
Blood splashed on the ground from the cuts he took from his reiatsu, his expression filling with shock. The taicho lifted his hands to gather his defense once more, but Ichigo gave him no time to prepare.
 
He slashed at him again, and again, the number of petals steadily decreasing as they were crushed under his attacks. He felt his control slipping with each swing of his sword. Byakuya was being shredded by his attacks, his shihakusho in tatters.
 
His grip on his bankai slipped, his reiatsu too low to maintain it. His sword returned to shikai, blocking Ichigo’s assault the best he could, but he was visibly pushed back. He waited for Ichigo to get close, and in the gap between his battering strikes, he pointed his finger at him and said, “Hadou number 4 byakurai.”
 
Lightning crackled from his finger towards Ichigo’s heart. He didn't bother blocking with his sword, he batted the Kidou away with his bare hand, the energy sizzling out in a cascade of sparks.
 
Byakuya wasn’t expecting his attack to be so easily destroyed, and now he was wide open.
 
He advanced without pause, raising his sword and bringing in down at a diagonal. Byakuya raised his sword to block at the last second, but Zangetsu cleaned straight through without any resistance at all. He slashed straight across his chest, blood spraying from the wound. If he wasn't holding back, he would have killed him, but his blow barely grazed him.

“You went too easy on ‘im.”

He’s not our enemy.

He lowered his sword, glaring across at Byakuya. He could tell he struggled to stay standing, but his pride and force of will held him up. His eyes narrowed in irritation, looking down at his broken Zanpakuto. “You win, Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo lowered his sword, the point dipping towards the ground. He let his mask dissipate, having no intention of pursuing the taicho. He wanted to win, and he’d done so. He was restless, eager for his fight with Aizen, but he shoved off the brutal nature of his hollow power anyway.
 
He turned to the side and ‘sheathed his sword’, making it clear their fight was over, and Byakuya retreated in a buzz of shunpo.
 
His heart was racing, his hands clenched into fists.

So close. So close. So close.

“Stay calm, Ichigo.”

I know, ossan.

But knowing what he needed to do and actually doing it were two different things. He’d always been an instinctual fighter, and now his instincts were betraying him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---

He could feel the presence of his friends at the edge of the clearing. Ishida, Sado, Ganju, Orihime. Even Yachiru and….that guy. They were too far away during the fight to see him before, but now that his and Byakuya’s power had died down, they ventured closer.
 
They shouldn’t be here, they would only be in the way. He felt a flicker of guilt at the thought, but it was no less true. The only one of his friends that might have been able to breathe if he raised his reiatsu was possibly Ishida, but he was without his powers. When they couldn’t feel his power, it wouldn’t matter, but unless they were above the level of a captain, he could hurt them on accident. Control was never his strong suite.
 
He looked over at his friends, and whatever they saw on his face, they stopped short, uncertain. The only one who seemed to still be happy was Yachiru. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath.

Calm down

. He forced his hands to relax, but his nerves were still as hot as a live wire.
 
He looked back over at them and offered a small, slightly disappointed smile. “What are you doing here?”
 
Ishida gave him a thoughtful look while Orihime fumbled for words. “Ah well, Kenpachi helped us escape and then this other guy started to fight him, and um, we wanted to be sure you were okay, but it looks like you’re fine…” He knew they felt the change in his reiatsu, but to his relief, none of them seemed willing to ask about it.
 
“Yeah, I'm okay.” He looked over Ganju and Ishida. It was weird seeing Ishida in shinigami black, he knew how much the Quincy must hate it. If he hadn't just broken out of prison, he might have stopped for a chance of clothes. “You guys look like shit.”
 
Ishida pushed up his glasses, a little self conscious, clearly. He shot Ganju a glare, leftover from an argument Ichigo hadn't been privy to. “Well at least I won

my

fight.”
 
Ganju scowled. “Well if I'm alive, that counts as a win in my book.”
 
Figures, the two would fight, Ishida didn’t seem to get along with anyone in his family.
 
He looked Orihime over. “Are you okay?”
 
She blushed, gesturing wildly. “I was kind of useless, but Ishida protected me! Zaraki carried me around! I’m fine.” She appeared to still have a crush on him, which was a shame. His eyes flicked over to Ishida, noticing how he watched her. He was there for her, he lost her powers to protect her, and she hadn’t even noticed. She was a smart girl, but just as blind as he was.
 
“I-I’m glad you’re alright...I’m sorry-”
 
He cut her off before she could get started, sighing. “Thank you, Inuoe.” His tone was gentle, careful. This wasn’t the strong, headstrong Orihime he knew, it was strange to see her so uncertain.
 
It might be too late to tell them to run away, they just weren’t fast enough for how much time was left.

Shit

.
 
He looked finished his fight with Byakuya with some time to spare, but things might be different now. “Guys, this isn’t over.” He looked vaguely in Renji’s direction, sensing him across Seireitei. He resisted the urge to draw his sword.

Calm

.
 
Ishida asked, “What do you mean, Kurosaki?”
 
He chose his words carefully, turning back to look at them all equally. “I know how hard you worked, I know how badly you want to help, but please...I’m asking you to run away. I don’t want to hurt you, or see you hurt.” Or killed.
 
Orihime’s expression grew pained, smiling, but there was no joy in it. “I-I see. We would just be in the way.”
 
He knew she understood, but that didn’t make it sting any less. He steeled his resolve, not backing away from their feelings, their losses, or their pride. He knew this would be meaningless to Ganju, but he would know soon anyway. “I got to see you all become so strong...It was an honor to fight with you then, and I know it will be an honor to fight with you again, so I’m asking you to wait.” His eyes lingered on Ishida, the implication he would regain his powers and then some in his gaze.
 
To his surprise, Sado spoke first. “We’ll be waiting for you, Ichigo. Win.” The giant held up his hand in a thumbs up.
 
Orihime’s smile was less shaky. “Kurosaki-kun…”
 
Ishida straightened. “I have questions for you, Kurosaki. Don’t go and get yourself killed before you can answer them.”
 
Ganju muttered, “I have no idea what’s going on.”
 
Ichigo’s mouth turned up into a small smile. “Ah. Now get out of here.”
 
Yachiru waved and screamed goodbye from Sado’s shoulder. They turned and ran for the edge of Sokyoku Hill, and it wasn’t long before he was left standing in silence, the wind on the hilltop quietly howling.
 
He hated this place.
 
This was the place he’d learned Aizen's plans for him, the place his friend was almost executed, and the place that traitor had set on his path to destroying everything precious to him.
 
He wanted to draw his khyber blade, but he needed his hands free. He knew that no matter what, Aizen had to come here. He was planning on negacion for a quick escape, and with his plan to have Rukia executed failed, he would come here himself to remove the Hogyoku from her body before he fled. He wasn’t going to let him touch Rukia, especially not when he knew he’d had to steal Kisuke’s technique to remove the damn thing. Kisuke could fix her, and it would be far less traumatic than watching Aizen stick his hand into his friend’s chest, her soul.
 
The Kidou powered announcement from Isane echoed in his head. “Attention, all Gotei 13 captains, lieutenants, and all ryoka. This is Squad 4 Isane Kotetsu fukutaicho. This is...this is an emergency announcement from both me, and Unohana Retsu taicho. Everything I am about to tell you is the truth…”
 
Ichigo tuned her out and readied himself. He knew Aizen’s betrayal inside and out. He only had another moment left. He let his power spike.

“About fuckin’ time.”

The collar suppressor dissolved under the sudden flood of his reiatsu, rising too quickly to contain it. His power soared, but it was too late for Aizen to back out now; he was standing a few hundred yards beneath his escape route. He wouldn’t get away thoug. He was going to die here, and never hurt anyone again.
 
He closed his eyes and focused, waiting. His heart hammered in his ears, but he paid careful attention to any differences in power around him. For a moment, there was silence, then the whirl of a powerful Kidou. The instant the Aizen and Gin appeared on the hilltop, Aizen’s eyes were on him.
 
He knew the man too well, he could see the confusion and curiosity in his eyes. It was the same curiosity a cat might show a butterfly before it flattened it underfoot. He wasn’t the weak ryoka boy he’d been when he fought him the first time around.
 
This was an unevolved Aizen.

He was weak

.
 
As he was now, the traitorous captain wouldn’t even be able to fathom his reiatsu. He seemed harmless when his reiatsu couldn't be sensed, but he could see the man’s instincts warning him of a threat.
 
He disappeared, reappearing just inches from Aizen. His hand was clamped down like a vice on his Zanpakuto, not allowing him to draw it. He caught the wrist of his right hand before he could react, cracking his bones in his grip.
 
The look on Aizen’s face was one of shock and incomprehension. Ichigo had been in one place, and then he had simply appeared before him.
 
Aizen’s left hand snapped out and grabbed his throat in retaliation, and Ichigo's eyes burned in fury. He'd grabbed him by the neck before, and he'd hated it then too.
 
His reiatsu thickened like fog around him, and even if Aizen couldn’t feel it, now he would

see

it. He flickered back, Kyōka Suigetsu clenched tightly in one hand, and drew his khyber sword. He wanted to use all of his power, but he still couldn’t let Soul Society know about his Quincy power. It was bad enough they knew about his hollow.
 
Aizen’s eyes widened further, beginning to understand Ichigo was a threat. “That’s...” The power Aizen had observed in the human world didn’t even compare to the power he was demonstrating now, and he knew this information confused the genius greatly.
 
Gin seemed torn on whether to keep up his cover or back up Aizen, and he settled for shikai and a concerned stance.
 
Ichigo sensed Renji, Rukia, and Tōsen appear behind him, having placed himself between where they would appear and Aizen on purpose. He had a feeling Aizen’s pride and arrogance would remove the focus from anyone but him, but he’d rather be careful.
 
Aizen’s expression twisted into one bordering on rage. “You have no reiatsu.

How?

”
 
He couldn’t help but taunt him. “

Aizen

has found something he doesn’t understand? How must that feel, to come to the sudden realization that you are

weak

?” He could feel the captains converging on their location. He didn’t have long, soon the negacion would take him away and he’d be gone.
 
He didn’t have to hold back, he wanted to crush him. He heard Zangetsu’s laughter echo in his head, a savage, eager sound. His power coiled around him in jagged lines of darkness, then surged over his skin, his resurrección flooding his veins with power. His mask formed, a hollow hole gaping in his chest with black lines drawn out and up to his neck. His hair grew long, nails stretching into claws.
 
Aizen put distance between them, moving too quickly for the others to see, but to his eyes, he was slow. Disarmed and outmatched, the ex-captain gestured with his hand and snapped, “Hadou 90 kurohitsugi!”
 
The darkness closed around him in a box, swords of power impaling through it. Ichigo narrowed his eyes in disgust. Even a full incantation kurohitsugi wasn’t enough to slow him down, this was just pathetic. Compared to the Aizen he’d known, this was almost too easy. He swung his sword and it shattered, shards flying in all directions. The ground cracked under his feet, the dust blown away from the hill by the shock.
 
He moved.
 
Aizen was unprepared when Ichigo’s hand grabbed his face, his glasses disintegrating when they made contact with his reiatsu. Aizen’s fingers dug into his arm, powering a kidou with his left hand, but he wasn’t strong enough to dislodge his grip. The fact he hadn’t simply shattered his skull when he grabbed him was a testament to his power, to what he would eventually become if he wasn’t stopped.
 
This all happened in a matter of seconds. He felt Gin and Tōsen release their swords, but they were still of little consequence. He charged a cero between his horns, holding Aizen off the ground with a tight grip on his head. His claws dug down to the bone, blood sheeting down the side of Aizen’s neck. He didn’t want to hear him speak anymore.
 
He met Aizen’s eyes from between his grip on his face, the rage and hatred he saw there a reflection of his own. His friends were still alive.

His family

. Soul Society wasn’t in shreds. He had something to protect again, and he had the pain of failure backing his resolve.
 
Sokyoku Hill was flooded with the oppressively dark light of his Gran Rey Cero. Shadows lengthened and cast the hill in red light as it charged between his horns. He felt Aizen’s reiatsu flare to crushing heights, his power whipping around them both, but it didn’t move him any more than a mountain might be pushed by the wind. Whatever kidou he cast exploded in yellow light around them both, but his cero still charged unimpeded. Part of him was disgusted, but another, deeper part felt a thrill.
 
Aizen was like a pinned butterfly, already dead, but it didn’t understand.
 
Gin’s sword struck him in the lower back, but the blade couldn’t hurt him. He didn’t even look, he only had eyes for Aizen.
 
This was the shinigami who stole his family from him, who would steal them from him again, but now he could win, he could kill him.
 
His tone was guttural and dark.
“I see you, Aizen.”
He saw who he really was, he understood him better than anyone ever had. His pride, his arrogance, his power. And now he was going to kill him again.
“In the end, you didn’t even want your power.”
 
He shot the cero point blank, the beam of dark, red energy slicing straight through Aizen into the sky, dissolving the clouds. The shockwave nearly leveled the trees on Sokyoku Hill, nearly all those present on the plateau struggling to remain standing. The sky seemed to burn, but he didn't stop there.
 
He threw him to the ground and it cratered under the impact. Aizen’s bare chest was doused in his own blood, a hole through his guts. Somehow he was still alive, eyes wide in fury. He stared at him with such hatred. This Aizen didn’t know who he was, he couldn’t know.
 
Ichigo didn’t give him time to recover, taking Zangetsu and driving it home in his chest, straight through his heart.
“Getsuga Tensho.”
 
Power rippled and split the ground beneath Aizen, his attack shredding the former taicho from the inside out. Red swaths of reiatsu bubbled from the rocks, shattering the ground. Chunks of rock along the edge of Sokyoku Hill split and fell, the ground scarred irrevocably from his power.
 
There was no coming back from this, Aizen would have to be dead. He raised his sword to attack again, paranoid he’d somehow failed.
 
The dust cleared, revealing Aizen’s bloody, mangled body beneath him. He didn’t lower his sword, his grip so tight his own claws cut into his skin. The wind tugged his hair around his shoulders, the wind rough now that air rushed to fill the space his cero had just forced away.
 
“That's enough, ryoka.” He was surprised to hear the soutaichou speak. He supposed he shouldn't be, he'd known he was here, he was in charge, but it was always uncomfortable to be scrutinized so closely.
 
Seconds ticked by, then, slowly, he lowered his sword, aware he was far from alone on that hilltop. He tossed away the dead zealot’s Zanpakuto, not wanting to touch the thing any longer than he had to.
 
He distantly heard Tōsen’s outraged cry, and he caught his sword in his hand without needing to look. He felt the concussion of sound his shikai created, but it rolled off him and his power.
 
He fixed Tōsen with an annoyed glare, the blind shinigami screaming again in rage. Ichigo’s tone was flat.
“Stop.”
He tightened his hand, breaking Tōsen’s Zanpakuto like it was made of glass. Before Tōsen could do more, the blind shinigami found Yoruichi’s sword at his throat, and Soifon’s at his gut, forcing him to cease, or die.
 
He took in the scene around him, all the captains were on guard besides the soutaichou He wasn't sure if they would attack, so he slowly ‘sheathed’ his sword. That he didn’t appear to be berserk was enough to make most of them relax, particularly those he knew were on his side, like Ukitake, Yoruichi, and Kyōraku.
 
He saw that Matsumoto had her sword at Gin’s throat, but he already knew he wasn’t a threat anymore. Both were quietly talking, but they were too far away to hear.
 
He noticed how Byakuya was situated in front of Renji and Rukia, the scattered petals of his shikai littering the ground at his feet. Even if he was in poor shape, he’d left him in one piece, anticipating this. If he hadn’t been there to protect Rukia with her already depleted reiatsu, he didn’t know how bad it could have gotten.
 
He glanced back down at Aizen like he was afraid he would come back to life. He was expecting him to regenerate, finding it hard to grasp the fact he had yet to accept the Hogyoku.

“King, he’s ain’t gettin’ back up.”

Is it wrong that I’m almost...disappointed?

“Bastard was weaker than I remembered.”

The sky suddenly split open, gillians writhing in the gash between worlds. However the ex-taicho had gotten the menos to open the negacion for him, it no longer mattered. They sought out their targets, apparently not caring Aizen was already dead. Ichigo was ready.
 
He parted his jaws in a roar that shook with power, the menos and gillians slinking back into the Valley of Screams. They were cowed, but they were still stupid things, they wouldn’t go away unless he forced them.
 
He lifted a hand, reaching with his instincts and the hole in the world. He snapped closed his hand into a fist, sealing off the garganta with force of will.
 
He could feel the shock and caution rolling off of the taichos and fukutaichos behind him. He understood he was an unquantifiable threat, but he still felt more alone than he ever had. People he’d known to be friends, mentors, comrades...they regarded him as an enemy. He lowered his hand, turning to face the others.
 
Ukitake’s voice carried, even though they were so far apart. “Who are you?”
 
He looked back and lifted his mask, still moving slowly. A couple of captains looked twitchy, and he didn’t want to fight his allies. “Kurosaki Ichigo.”
 
Soifon shouted, “Kurosaki Ichigo is human! You are decidedly

not

.”
 
Yamamoto shouted. “Enough! Treat the wounded, take these two traitors to Senzaikyu Shishinro.” He opened an eye to regard Ichigo. “I will deal with Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened a bit. Before he’d been beneath Yamamoto’s notice, but now he was upgraded to name status?
 
He let his hollow power go, his hair returning to normal length, the black in his sclera receding. His eyes were no longer yellow, but soft brown. His reflexes were still humming from battle, feeling surprisingly unsated.
 
Yamamoto walked forward while the captains scrambled to follow orders. The captain commander walked past Ichigo to the edge of the battered plateau. Ichigo took the hint and followed, not entirely sure where to go from here. This is as far as his foreknowledge was of any considerable value. Now things would be different, and he didn’t know his place in this world anymore.
 
He stood beside Yamamoto as he looked out over Soul Society, waiting for the ancient shinigami to speak. The sun was beginning to set, brilliant golden light highlighting the contours of the destruction Ichigo had wrought. “Kurosaki…You don’t match early reports of your power, you don’t look like the teenager we surveilled a month ago. Who are you?”
 
He looked at the commander, sensing this question was digging for more than his name. “I’m Ichigo...I was a substitute shinigami, a brother, a friend...I’m a protector, a visored...and at one point, a captain.” He looked over at Rukia, who was kneeling by her brother’s side. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Yama-jii.”
 
The man leaned forward on his cane, seemingly understanding Ichigo’s implications. “Is this the result of

that man’s

invention?” He was talking about Kisuke’s Hogyoku, and he didn't come right out and ask if it was time travel, but when the dangai was well known for displacing time, it wasn't an impossible conclusion.
 
Ichigo wasn't sure if he was looking for a report or a simple answer, but he'd never been sure how to act around Yamamoto. He'd defied nearly every order he'd given him at first. It had taken years for him to see the wisdom in his actions, and the coldness in them. “Yes.”
 
“Where is the Hogyoku now?”
 
Ichigo saw no reason to lie about this, the Hogyoku couldn’t be destroyed, only hidden. It would need to be kept safe, and he knew Yamamoto could be neutral in the guarding of something so powerful. “It’s inside Rukia’s soul. Urahara can remove it, but only if she comes back to Karakura.” The last bit was a bit of a lie.
 
Yamamoto grunted in understanding, no doubt planning for her escort.
 
They stood in silence for some time, and Ichigo had a feeling he was waiting for him to continue. “

When

I’m from, Aizen won. He killed my family, he destroyed Karakura. He killed Renji, Rukia, Hitsugaya, Byakuya...he killed almost everyone. Seireitei was conquered, he nearly succeeded in creating the King's Key.”
 
That word alone had Yamamoto fixing him with a hard look. “How many others have you told?”
 
“You’re the only one I’ve told about the the Key. Trust me, I know how important it is. I won’t tell anyone, Yama-jii.”
 
“A wise choice, kozu.” And he was downgraded to boy once again. “Why does Seireitei have your loyalty?”
 
“Aizen targeted my home, my friends, my family. Seireitei is an extension of that. The number of people I want to protect keeps growing.”
 
He looked over at the captain commander. He knew why he was asking, and this talk was only happening because he’d proven to be stronger than everyone in the Gotei 13. “I’m not a threat to Seireitei.”
 
“The fact remains that in this world you are a ryoka, and you defeated lieutenants and captains with ease. You killed a captain of unknown power and ended a rebellion that would have done irreparable damage to Soul Society and the human world.”
 
Ichigo kept his voice low. “It’s not over Yama-jii. He’s got an army of arrancar in Hueco Mundo, and I don’t know what they’ll do now that he’s dead.”
 
Yamamoto mulled this over, then asked, “What will you do?”
 
“Recruit the visoreds.” This got his attention.
 
“I forgot you didn’t know...the visoreds weren’t changed by choice, Aizen framed Kisuke, and Kisuke did what he could to keep them alive. They did nothing wrong.” He couldn’t help but defend his friends; they were like him, he couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship.
 
Yamamoto considered this, then looked out over Seireitei. “We owe you a great debt, it would seem. You and the other ryoka may stay and recuperate before returning to the human world.
 
Ichigo didn't like collecting on debts, but he knew it would only be an insult to their pride if he didn't accept. “Ah. Thanks, Yama-jii.”
 
“I expect a full report, Kurosaki.” He fixed him with a steady look. “I’ll meet with you tomorrow evening.” He had no doubt there was a lot to be done with all the recent chaos, a day wasn’t that long to wait at all. He had a feeling Yamamoto was aware he would be omitting some details and information, but for the moment, he seemed to grudgingly accept that.
 
The soutaichou walked back to the others, shouting a few more orders and having his lieutenant send hell butterflies to the absent divisions.

“He does not trust you, Ichigo. You have shown yourself to be merciless and powerful, nor have you shown to have any sort of respect for authority. Be cautious

.”

If he decides to outmaneuver me, what could I do? He has centuries on me.

“But if the old bastard wants to fight, we’ll win.”

This is pointless. We’re not going to fight him, we’re on the same side

.

“But if we do…”

Not gonna happen, Zangetsu.

There was a lot of upset grumbling, but that was the end of that.
 
Ichigo didn’t move just yet, sensing Ishida, Orihime, and Sado, returning to the top of Sokyoku Hill. He assumed Yachiru and Ganju had decided to get going now that things were settled. He waited for them, wanting a few more minutes alone. He noticed Rukia and Byakuya talking and left them be, glad Byakuya had again made peace with himself, and Rukia.
 
He didn’t feel like he’d won. The mood was somber and subdued and the shinigami on the hilltop avoided him like he was some kind of monster. So nothing had changed.

“If ya didn’t scowl like that maybe they wouldn’t be so piss scared.”

So I should smile like you?

Zangetsu cackled.

“Just like that, King.”

He couldn’t decide if he was making fun of him or trying to make him feel better.
 
He watched the fourth division run around treating Komamura, Renji, Byakuya, and everyone affected by simply being too close to his battle with Aizen. That word felt wrong. It wasn’t a fight, it was just plain murder.
 
The sun was nearly set by the time his friends made it back over to him, the fourth wrapping up their field treatments to move their patients to the fourth division. Orihime told him on the way back up, Yachiru had gotten a hell butterfly then offered to let them all stay in the 11th division barracks until they returned to the human world.
 
He caught their eyes slipping over to Aizen’s bloodied body, but the sun was low enough that any detail of that slaughter was cast in shadow. He knew Orihime tried to brush it off, but was struggling to keep her composure. Ishida said nothing, he only watched Ichigo in contemplative silence.
 
They retreated to the barracks, the conversation staying light, recounting what had happened while they were separated, then lapsing into uncomfortable silence. The streets were still rather busy after all the commotion they had either caused or been apart of. Kidou powered light flickered on along the path, but the streets were still dark.
 
Ishida finally broke the silence. “Kurosaki...do you plan on working with Soul Society?”
 
Ichigo stopped abruptly. “Ishida. This isn’t the place.” He gave him a warning look, aware Mayuri could very well be listening in on them without their knowledge. There were some things he wasn’t willing to share with Soul Society just yet. Ishida seemed to understand, but the frustration was clear on his face.
 
His tone eased, looking between them. “Look. I don’t know the future anymore. Not really. My knowledge is next to useless now.”
 
He could feel the distance between them. It was uncomfortable knowing the people he’d once been so close to were only alive in his memories. He sighed, looking up at the stars. These were different from the ones in his inner world, these were actually calming. They put things into perspective.
 
He looked back at his friends, changing the subject for the moment. “You want to be strong, don’t you? I can help.” He didn’t want to do this alone. He could try, but he knew he would fail.
 
Orihime took a step forward, the resolve in her eyes reminiscent of the Inuoe he remembered. “Kurosaki-kun...I want to protect Tatsuki, I want to help you, everyone.”
 
Ishida’s brows furrowed, his attention suddenly on her. “Inuoe…”
 
Ichigo‘s lips turned up into a faint smile, thinking of Hacchi. “I know someone who can help you. When we get back to Karakura I’ll take you to see him.”
 
He turned his attention to Ishida. “You need to speak with your father.” Ishida’s eyes widened, clearly less than thrilled.
 
Ichigo left that hanging and looked to Sado. “I can help you with your power if you want, but to be honest, you did a pretty good job on your own. You’re a fullbringer by the way.”
 
“Full...bringer?”
 
“Long story, but if you want my help, you can have it.”
 
Sado tensed and said nothing, but Ichigo sensed that was a firm yes. He would need to take him to Hueco Mundo, and thankfully finding a patch of unoccupied sand in that place was relatively simple.
 
“I wasn’t being flattering earlier, you guys get strong, but you need to be stronger.” He considered what he could tell them that wouldn’t be compromising if he was being spied on. “Aizen’s army still exists, but they’re far less motivated than Aizen was to infiltrate the human world, and they don’t share his ideals. Although after they fight out who’s in charge, I don’t think they’ll just sit on their ass. They hate shinigami.
 
“That said, I think we have time before that happens.” He put his hands on his hips with a huff. “It’s late, it’s been a very, very long day. Let’s just get to the barracks so we can get some sleep. I promise I’ll answer your questions.

Tomorrow

.” There was an edge of authority on his voice they weren't use to hearing, a remnant of barking orders in the war.
 
There were no complaints, all of them looked as exhausted as he felt. All that tension he’d had over fighting Aizen was gone, and that same bone-deep weariness took the place of his rage.
 
They got to the 11th division barracks in a few minutes, one of the few places in Seireitei he knew inside and out. A member he didn’t know by name led them to their quarters, uncertain what to do when Ichigo demanded his own room. It didn’t seem to matter if he was a member of the 11th division, Ichigo’s description had gotten out and the shinigami was so flustered he couldn’t figure out what to do with himself.
 
Ichigo was just about to leave when Ikkaku turned the corner. “Oy! Ichigo!”
 
He turned, surprised to see him on his feet so soon. “Ikkaku?”
 
“What’s the deal?” Ikakku strode up to his group, looking over his friends with a critical eye, then dismissed them.
 
Ichigo said, “I want my own room.”
 
Ikakku looked at Ishida, then Sado, not seeing anything wrong with the two. “Why? “ Ichigo clearly wasn’t a self-entitled prick, Ikkaku didn’t see a problem.
 
Ichigo’s frown deepened, not wanting to let the entire world in on his shortcomings. “You know what, whatever. I’ll sleep outside.”
 
He turned to go, Ikakku’s voice behind him. “H-Hey! You think the 11th can’t give the guy that beat the hell out of our captain a fuckin’ room?! Who do you think we are!?”
 
Ichigo stopped, annoyed. “Well then give me a room, baldy.”
 
“WHAT?!”
 
Ikakku reached for his Zanpakuto, and Ichigo tried not to roll his eyes.
 
Orihime gestured wildly, flustered.”Ah! It’s fine! We can just share and let Kurosaki have the other-”
 
Ikkaku grabbed Ichigo’s arm and dragged him down the hall, angrily muttering. He left Ichigo’s friends behind, leaving them standing in the hallway with their escort.
 
He tossed Ichigo into at an empty room. He was suddenly serious. “Why, Ichigo?”
 
Ichigo let Ikkaku man-handle him and shrugged. “Use to sleeping alone is all.”
 
“Uh huh.” Ikakku didn’t sound sold on the excuse. “Whatever. Get some sleep, I’m sure Zaraki will be looking for you tomorrow.”

“Good. Night.

”
 
Ikakku snorted and slammed the door on Ichigo, leaving the visored standing in the dark.

“That could have gone better.”

“You should tell your friends the truth.”

I’m not lying to them!

“Ichigo

.”
 
He frowned, aware Zangetsu-no-ossan wasn’t going to take any excuses.
 
He didn’t dwell on it, removing his Zanpakuto and lying down on the bed he rolled out. “Zangetsu?”
 
The switch was easy, and Zangetsu didn’t object. He was ashamed he needed to do this, he didn’t want his friends to know. He didn’t want to hurt anyone again, and despite his exhaustion, he knew his emotions were raw.
 
Inside his inner world, there was silence, but as he finally slipped into sleep, the wind howled.

--- xxx ---

Okay yey, finally get to do all the fun things. Writing the captain commander is hard, he hardly ever talks and when he does it’s just orders, and even in the manga there are parts where he feels OOC, like when Kubo first wrote him he wasn’t sure what he wanted him to be. *Shrug* oh well, I hope you enjoyed!
 
I know Aizen got majorly dunked on, but he didn’t even have the Hogyoku and Ichigo casually took out a bunch of lieutenants even when he was super weak in season 3, so even without being able to go into bankai, I feel like he would wreck Aizen.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo woke to the sounds of bokken clashing in the training grounds. Rather, Zangetsu woke up and they traded places. It was still barely light out, and rather than wander around a half empty division, Ichigo did push-ups and sit-ups, going through his exercises before he finally ventured from his room. He had Zangetsu with him, unsure if it was still considered wartime and that was allowed, but not really caring either way. If they wanted to disarm him he would have to be heavily persuaded.
 
He went to the dojo to watch, taking up a spot in the corner and out of the way. Everyone turned to look at him and he challenged them with a scowl. He was promptly ignored, and they all went back to training. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, scanning the shinigami and only recognizing a couple.
 
He watched them spar, judging them as critically as possible, and he could tell that they noticed. They seemed to be unusually focused, treating it more like an exam than casual training.
 
Ichigo was a bit surprised when one of them got the balls to go up to him to ask him to spar with them. After he'd been oozing hollow reiatsu all night, he thought the kid had some real guts. He agreed, catching the bokken that was thrown at him.
 
The others kept sparring, but it was obvious their attention was on the two of them. They were curious about the hollow-like ryoka that beat Zaraki without a single scratch. He felt a little silly being watched so closely in a division that wasn’t his own. He hadn’t sparred in a dojo in so long, a wooden sword felt hilariously wrong.
 
The kid, Shima-Simoda-Shi-something, stood across from him in a stance that was a little too informal to be anything but a byproduct of the eleventh. His expression set in determination and he rushed forward, bokken over his head for a downward strike. Ichigo took a step to the side and brought his foot up to give the kid a gentle shove in the hips. In mid turn, he was pushed off balance. The kid fell on his ass, scrambling to get to get back to his feet.
 
There were some snickers, but he couldn’t tell from who. Ichigo lifted the wooden sword to his shoulder and barked, “Can any of you do any better?”
 
One of the more arrogant members stepped up, a stupid grin on his face. “I can take you!”
 
Ichigo huffed and scowled. “This is a waste of time. All of you come at me at once!”
 
They hesitated, uncertain if he was being serious or not, then all charged him, starting a one-sided brawl.
 
Zangetsu laughed, pressuring Ichigo to let him out.

No, you’ll kill someone. You’re a fucking maniac

.
 
He easily dodged and parried, trying not to really hurt anyone. He settled for embarrassing them and making it clear they needed to get their shit together to get stronger. They weren’t pathetic, but they were pretty weak.
 
He ended up being the only one standing, sword on his shoulders, as a third of the eleventh division groaned on the floor. “Get better, weaklings!”
 
There was a resounding groan of dissent, but overall, Ichigo was pleased. Getting their asses kicked might be helpful, especially for the eleventh.
 
“Ichigo!” Ichigo turned to look, seeing Ikakku and Yumichika in the doorway. “I was wondering what all this shouting was about. You beat the shit out of our division!” He was use to seeing the two together, it was a nostalgic sight.
 
“That’s what happens to weaklings!” Ichigo countered. “You gonna do better, Ikkaku?”
 
“Well duh, dumbass.” He grabbed a bokken and stepped over a groaning shinigami. He held it out in front of him and smirked. “You ready, strawberry!?”
 
“You know that’s not what my name means!” Ichigo pouted, bokken held ready. Ikkaku looked like shit, but he hadn’t beat him as bad as he had the first time, he knew he was fine.
 
Ikkaku’s face twisted into a grin that reminded him of Zangetsu and he rushed forward. Ichigo raised his sword to block a sudden side strike. He slid his foot in a semi circle, catching Ikkaku behind the knee. Ikkaku’s leg buckled, but he caught himself before he fell. He lashed out at Ichigo’s head with the bokken and Ichigo ducked, pulling Ikkaku’s leg out from under him as he completed his spin.
 
He went down as Ichigo completed the motion with a left handed punch aimed straight down at Ikkaku’s face. The fukutaicho rolled out of the way, Ichigo’s fist splitting the wood instead. Ikkaku didn’t waste time evading, he brought the bokken around toward Ichigo’s neck. Ichigo raised his own practice sword to block, pushing Ikkaku back and away.
 
Instead of putting distance between them, Ichigo rushed closer, forcing Ikkaku into close combat. It wasn’t often he got to use his fists, and both of them were good enough with one hand on a sword to do it. They traded blows, Ichigo not much caring if Ikkaku landed a hit, it didn’t hurt much, if at all, his hierro instinctively protecting him even if he didn’t intend to use it.
 
The division members had relocated to the edges of the room, both flinging insults and cheering Ikkaku on. Or maybe they were simply celebrating the violence, Ichigo couldn’t tell. Ikkaku wasn't all bark, he was good, when it boiled down to it.. When they weren't pressuring each other with their Zanpakuto or reiatsu, it was more than a little fun to simply test their skill. He found himself smiling, though his mood fell somewhat when he sensed Zaraki enter the room.
 
He drew the trench knife, stopping Zaraki’s sword short over his head. “Are you serious?!” He didn’t really need to guard himself, but he didn’t think it would look good if a third of his division saw their own captain fail to scratch someone. And people said he didn’t care.
 
Ikkaku stared at Zaraki, wide eyed. “Taicho!”

“You really should have expected this.”

We changed a lot of shit.

“Can’t change Zaraki.”

Zangetsu had a point
 
He hopped back from Ikkaku, tossing the bokken to a random division member. Zaraki hefted his sword again, his division wisely getting out of the way. “You killed Aizen right? I have to fight you!”
 
“Didn’t Yachiru tell you what I said?

No

.”
 
His face fell in annoyance and he dodged when Zaraki swung again. He sheathed the knife and lifted a hand in a half wave. “Thanks for the fight, Ikkaku! See ya later.”
 
Zaraki swung again, but he disappeared in a flash of shunpo, rapidly putting distance between them. Eventually he’d tire out, but until then, it was back to running. The nostalgia was nearly overpowering, and it put him in an odd mood.
 
He’d returned to a walk when he ran into Ishida outside the barracks. Rather, Ishida had been looking for him all morning and had finally found him. When his reiatsu appeared to most everyone to have disappeared entirely, he imagined it would be hard to find him. “What’s up, Ishida?”
 
“Don’t play dumb, Kurosaki! I want answers.”
 
Ishida’s shoulders were set in determination, brows furrowed, and Ichigo had promised. He didn't really have to think about it. “Okay, but not here.”
 
Before Ishida could protest, he’d hoisted him up and over his shoulder. He used his combination of shunpo and sonido to cross the length of Seireitei, racing along the rooftops, then forming reishi under his feet to run on the air. He was going too fast to hear any complaints if Ishida had any, but honestly, he wasn’t sparing Ishida’s pride by walking the entire way for what would probably be a brief conversation.
 
It was only a couple of minutes before he stopped at the base of the waterfall above the hidden training ground he’d been at with Yoruichi.
 
He dumped Ishida on the ground, who spat curses at him. He scrambled to his feet and snapped, “Was that necessary?!” He brushed dust off of himself, readjusting his glasses and windblown hair.
 
“No need to shout.” He grinned, finding Ishida amusing when he was disheveled and flustered. He turned and led the way in, the entrance still a bit ruined from Renji’s careless posturing. “And yes, it was.”
 
He stepped into empty space, landing at the bottom and waited for Ishida to take the ladder all the way down. It took another minute, but he had time to spare. He called up as he descended. “Urahara built this place with Yoruichi a long time ago. It’s got some Kidou protection, and Soul Society doesn’t know about it.”
 
Once Ishida reached the bottom, he gave Ichigo a look of concern. “Are you really that worried they’ll overhear?”
 
“Yes. My loyalties are already in question, and what we’re about to discuss would only make that suspicion worse.” He gestured at Ishida to continue. “Now ask.”
 
“When we were breaking through the barrier to Seireitei...your reiatsu was strange. It felt like two halves warring with each other. What was that?”
 
And there it was.

“Glasses is too smart for his own damn good.

”

Doesn’t need to be smart to figure that out, he’s creepily observant.

“Guard your words, Ichigo, do not tell him everything.”

Ah.

Ichigo decided to answer Ishida with a small story. “My mother, Masaki...was a Quincy.” Ishida’s eyes widened in shock, even hinting on betrayal. He knew he still didn’t like shinigami, maybe he still hated them, and with just this information it would seem on the surface that he had given up his Quincy side to be a shinigami. He only tolerated their existence because he could see they had a purpose, because he was being the better man. To find out Ichigo was one must be confusing.
 
“I didn’t know she was, not until after I became a shinigami. Her soul was going to suicide after being infected by a hollow called White. A hollow Aizen created. Urahara made a gigai for her that would stabilize her soul, but the hollow was always there. That hollow passed on to me when I was born. That’s what you felt. My hollow/shinigami power was trying to balance with my Quincy power. It’s a delicate balance, and one I’m naturally awful at.”
 
He watched Ishida carefully, waiting for him to say something. Ishida shifted and he couldn’t see his eyes, the light reflecting off his glasses. He started to get uncomfortable, his brows furrowing. “Kurosaki...If your mother was a quincy, and Urahara was helping her….does that mean-”
 
“Ah. Ojisan is a shinigami.”
 
Ishida nodded curtly and asked, “So what Quincy abilities did you retain?”
 
“Blut Vene is all I’ve used so far, and that was an accident. I mostly use my Quincy power to keep my hollow half suppressed. I end up using Blut Vene out of instinct alone if I need it.”
 
“

If

you need it? You don’t

need

perfect defense?” Ishida was understandably confused.
 
“Usually my hierro is enough to stop an attack, and my bankai is fast. Very fast. I don’t have any special abilities, I just get faster and stronger.”
 
Ishida didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. “That makes sense given what I’ve observed of your ability. You’re already above captain level in zanjutsu and hand to hand, and it didn’t appear most of the captains had the ability to track your shunpo. I can’t imagine how fast you are in bankai, if you killed Aizen in shikai.”
 
Ichigo was surprised he’d gathered all that just from being halfway across Seireitei, but he’d never doubted Ishida’s intelligence. He deadpanned. “I’m fast.”
 
He went back to his previous train of thought. “How did you find out you’re a quincy?”
 
Ichigo crossed his arms with a scowl. “That damn goat face sure as shit didn’t tell me. I let out immense amounts of reiatsu, it mixed with enemy reiatsu, and something about awakening my blood. I dunno, I don’t pay that close of attention.”
 
“You were fighting another quincy?” This shocked Ishida even more than the rest, and Ichigo was unsurprised.
 
“Ah. There are more quincies. I came back in time before they became a real nuisance, but they were strong, and they weren’t on our side.” He saw the look on his face, he was skeptical, he wanted to not be one of the last. He didn’t want to rekindle false hope. He’d said too much. “They were monsters, Ishida.”
 
“And you’re not!?”

“Ouch.”

Ichigo’s expression darkened, and he tried not to let how badly that hurt show. He remembered almost killing his friend. He hadn’t been conscious for it, but that was his failure, his weakness. This wasn’t the same Ishida, but the guilt was still there.
 
He swallowed. “Fine, I’m a monster, but I’m not the kind of monster that casually kills their comrades and shows no mercy.” There was more ice in his tone than he’d intended, he was feeling defensive. He knew this was a raw subject for Ishida, but he still had feelings.
 
The conversation lapsed into uncomfortable silence, but Ichigo waited for Ishida to gather his thoughts. Ishida changed the subject. “How do I get my power back?”
 
“I told you, talk to your father. I might be a quincy, but you’re the only Quincy I actually know.”
 
Something seemed to occur to Ishida, his brows furrowing. “You don’t know about yourself?”
 
Ichigo was surprised that was where his mind went. His eyes widened a fraction, unsure how to respond. He’d never confronted this, he hadn’t had time, he’d just done what he’d always done and faced the challenge before him. “No. My mother’s family was killed, she was adopted into another family, I think, but I never learned whose. I just kind of figured things out as I went along.”
 
“Where was I?”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed at a rush of misplaced sadness. “Dead.”
 
Ishida didn’t seem bothered by this, if anything, he appeared to be determined. “This time I won’t be dead. I’ll get stronger, Kurosaki. I’ll be there.”
 
“I’ll help if I can.”
 
“You don’t need to-”
 
“Ishida! You always come up with some lame excuse as to why you’re helping me, but you

always

help, you’re always there. I never got to repay that debt, give me the chance now.”
 
“Whatever happened in your time, Kurosaki, hasn’t happened here yet. You don’t owe me.”
 
“But I do. You came here to help save Rukia. I know a major reason you came was to protect Inuoe, but that fact still remains.” Ishida blushed when he brought up Orihime, but he pretended not to notice. “You lost your powers defeating Mayuri, you did something I don’t think I could have done.” Actually, he knew he couldn’t have done it. He’d had his chance to use Mugetsu, and he’d failed.
 
“I know about what he did, Ishida…I understand.” He didn’t know if he’d missed on purpose, or hadn’t had the resolve and now felt regret. Mayuri’s expertise wasn’t as trash as everyone made it out to be; he was valuable. But...knowing Mayuri had tortured Ishida’s grandfather, he might have done a lot worse than Ishida. He would have. He had. He’d never liked Mayuri, but learning that had been the nail in the coffin.
 
He reached up to rub the side of his neck, the sharp memory of a needle piercing his skin.

“It was in the past, Ichigo. We will not let it happen again.”

Ishida noticed the change, but didn’t understand, so he didn’t say anything. Ichigo let out a long, slow exhale, making the memories and the fear fade away with the last of his breath. “I already owe you a lot, Ishida, the very least I can do is kick your ass until you get better.”
 
Ishida frowned and looked away, thoughtful. Ichigo’s pride was on the line, he had to do this, and that appeared to be something Ishida understood.
 
Ichigo said, “Get your powers back, and I’ll help you. I think your asshole dad helped you train for a while, but I can give you experience against a bankai, against a Vasto Lorde.”
 
“Vasto Lorde?”
 
“My hollow is Vasto Lorde level. You should get use to fighting a hollow like that. There are some dumbasses in Hueco Mundo that are all brawn and no brain, but you never were very prepared to fight against raw instinct and power.”
 
Ishida’s eyes narrowed. “You make it sound like your hollow is someone else.”
 
Ichigo scratched his head. “Sort of. You know how a shinigami’s Zanpakuto is both a part of them, but separate? I can materialize Zangetsu for you to fight. It’ll be more educational.” Zangetsu had mildly different reiatsu, techniques, mannerisms. It really would be educational.
 
“Educational?” He sounded skeptical, but he knew Ishida trusted his judgement. With anyone else he’d be worried they might break, but Ishida was tough.
 
Ishida came to a decision. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Fine. You help me get stronger, and I'll help you control your Quincy power. At the very least if you have Blut Vene, you should learn how to use Blut Arterie and gather reishi. You'd be a disgrace to Quincies if you didn't.”
 
Ichigo smiled. It wasn't a real insult, this was the Ishida he knew. “Then it's a plan. Ready to go back?”
 
“One more question. How did you learn to control your hollow?”
 
“I didn't. He's a part of me. He

is

me.” Ishida seemed confused, so he explained further. “He's Zangetsu.” He jerked a thumb at the sword on his back. “My hollow fused with my shinigami powers. They're one in the same.” He put a hand on the trench knife and said, “This knife is part of my Quincy power, but it's also Zangetsu.”
 
“That's...confusing, Kurosaki.”
 
He smiled. “Good thing you're smart, four-eyes.” He knew that Ishida liked a good problem, if anyone could figure out his Quincy powers it was him.
 
They returned to the eleventh the same way that they left, but he noted how much Ishida had relaxed. He felt a little better too, he'd never expected to find common ground with the Quincy, but they seemed to have found it.
 
Ishida went off to go find something else to wear, or make something, and Ichigo went off on his own again. He still had plenty of time until he needed to go meet with Yama-jii, and he was stubbornly refusing to think about and/or plan what he should say. He’d given reports before, but never one where he intended to purposefully withhold information.
 
He was lost in his thoughts, wandering aimlessly around Seireitei. It was only early afternoon, he had a few hours to spare. He was so deep in his own thoughts, he didn’t see what he was looking at, he was thinking about Aizen, about Szayelaporro Granz. His pink fucking hair, his immaculate fucking clothes, and his laugh.

That laugh

. He hated it, the fucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up. He never

shut up.

He sensed someone behind him, whirling far too quickly for them to react.

“ICHIGO!”

He had his hand on their chest, slamming them against the wall so hard it cracked under the force. His eyes widened when he saw white hair, staring back into warm, brown eyes. He let go immediately. “Uki..take-san?”
 
He didn’t look scared or startled, he looked worried. He didn’t acknowledge the other shinigami that took notice, he only turned and gestured. “Come with me, Kurosaki-kun.” He used shunpo, expecting Ichigo to follow. For a second, Ichigo was too shocked to know what to do.

“Go with him Ichigo.”

His brow furrowed and he chased after him, catching up quickly enough. The captain stopped on a walkway over the water in a garden. He set his hand on the railing and watched the fish a moment, then gave Ichigo a small smile. Ichigo’s stomach flipped, wondering how he could smile at him like that.
 
“Don’t despair Kurosaki-kun. I thought I was prepared if you were to react badly. I overestimated myself, try not to judge yourself too harshly.”
 
His heart was pounding, his anger clashing with his guilt and making him nauseous. “What did you want to talk about Ukitake-san?”
 
“You heard I’m Rukia’s superior? You saved my subordinate’s life, you were faster than I was, you saved her from the Sokyoku...and that monster. I want to return that favor. Kurosaki-kun, you remind me of me, and Rukia once we lost-once we lost Kaien.” He looked at him, pain in his eyes. “You do look like him, you remind me of him, I know you’re not him.”
 
Ichigo finally started to relax, standing beside Ukitake. “I’m a Shiba, so that’s not so surprising.”
 
He looked at him, wide eyed. Ichigo felt it might be stupid to share too much, but it wasn’t like he wouldn’t know eventually. “Kurosaki Isshin is my father. Shiba Isshin.” Ukitake was shocked into silence, and Ichigo shrugged off his next questions. “It’s a long story.”
 
“That explains...much.” He sighed and shook his head. “But, it isn’t relevant.”
 
He looked over at Ichigo. “I don’t know what happened to you, and you aren’t my subordinate, but I wanted you to know I’ll always be here to listen if you need it.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “This is the first time I’ve talked to you at all, Kurosaki-kun, but I know guilt, and I know what hate looks like.
 
“You’re not okay.”
 
Ichigo stiffened, eyes widening. He clenched his jaw, considering running. He’d been bluffing, shrugging off any concern, but this was the first time he’d been told he wasn’t okay.
 
“When you stopped me, your eyes were black.”
 
He hadn’t known that. He hadn’t been doing anything but walking, how long had he been like that?

“A while, King. You weren’t listening to us.”

That startled him more than anything. He leaned on the railing and swore, his fingers gripping into the wooden railing. Ukitake was silence, letting him absorb his thoughts. The serenity around him was only angering. He was falling apart, and everything continued on as usual.
 
“There was...there

is

an arrancar.

Szayelaporro Granz.

” He spat the name in hate. Talking to Ishida was a reminder he couldn’t shake. “I fought against Nnoitra and barely scraped by. Szayel captured me...and Hueco Mundo is a big place.”
 
He didn’t stop, his expression twisting in rage. He stared down at the water, the dragonflies flitting over the surface. His voice was soft, afraid that saying it out loud would make it all some kind of self fulfilling prophecy. “Everything leads back to him, I can’t get away from him. He’s not dead here, he’s not dead yet and

I want him dead

.”
 
Ukitake didn’t try to touch him again, he barely even moved. “Kurosaki-kun...I don’t know what he did, but you’re still here, he didn’t win.”
 
He knew Ukitake was struggling to find something to say that wouldn’t only make things worse when he didn’t know the whole story. “I was only there for a little over a month...felt like longer.”
 
Ukitake said nothing, and he couldn’t stop the words tumbling out. “I won’t let him get me again, but I’m still scared, and I hate it.”
 
“You were rescued?”
 
“No.” He wasn’t sure if it would have been better or worse if he had been. He’d been hoping someone would save him, but the only one he’d had was Zangetsu. “I overpowered him and ran.” He didn’t know why he was so ashamed of that fact, but he was.
 
“How?”
 
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His grip on the railing tightened, the wood splintering under his hands. He let it go with a soft apology, lifting a hand to rub at another headache.
 
“Then we won’t. What

do

you want to talk about?”
 
He’d never known Ukitake that well, but he’d always liked him. He had a strong sense of justice and empathy, and he never thought he’d be leaning on it so heavily. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” He’d been lucky so far and he’d only attacked people that were sturdy enough to take it. What if he killed someone? The fear was there, it haunted him.
 
“I’ll see what I can do to help.” He looked over at him. “How are you sleeping?”
 
“Badly.”
 
Ukitake didn’t seem surprised. “These are our problems you got mixed up in to begin with, it’s our responsibility to help. Acceptance, Kurosaki-kun...I have a feeling you’re aware of this, but you’re digging in your heels. Anger feels good, it’s safe for you, but not to those around you. Not when you’re so strong.”
 
The taicho turned toward him. “You’re not weak, that you’re standing here and you care so deeply for your friends is proof you aren’t.” Ichigo hadn’t realized how deep Ukitake’s understanding might go. He always forgot just how many hundreds of years he’d been privy to.
 
He looked away, blinking back the sting in his eyes. He was too use to others leaning on him, he wasn’t use to leaning on others.
 
“Have you calmed down?”
 
“Yeah...thanks, Ukitake-san.” He looked back down at the water, voice nearly inaudible. “I’m sorry.”
 
“I should have known better. Just try to stay focused when you’re out.”
 
He took his warning seriously, he knew what might have happened if he’d turned on anyone short of a captain. He could seriously hurt someone. “I will, Ukitake-san.”
 
He voice held the steel of a promise, and Ukitake nodded in understanding. “You know where to find me.”
 
Ichigo dipped his head in a nod, eager to spend some time alone before he had to face Yamamoto. If he saw he was slipping, he might try to order him to stay out of it, and he wouldn’t let him do that. It might not be smart to want to face Szayel again, but he wanted to be the one to kill him, he wanted to face his fears, even if the octava Espada had yet to do anything in this timeline.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo relocated to the rooftops, not wanting to have a repeat of what happened with Ukitake, even if he was relatively calmed down. He sat and stared out at Seireitei, liking it there more than he remembered. He hadn’t spent much time here in the past, but the sprawling center was always impressive to look at. The shadows of clouds crawled along the stretch of immaculate buildings, glinting off of golden rooftops.
 
He wanted to talk to Rukia, but he knew she was still dealing with things with the Shiba’s and Byakuya and he didn’t want to dump more on her plate. They would have time to talk when they returned to Karakura. It might not be the best time for it, but it might be the only time.
 
His ‘plans’ were interrupted when a hell butterfly fluttered up to him, requesting he meet with Yamamoto at the prison. He knew exactly why he was asking him there, it had to be about Gin. Tosen was a basketcase incapable of reason, at least as far as he’d seen, which left only Gin. It was likely he wanted his opinion before an official trial. Having a witness from the future probably wasn't standard procedure.
 
Finding the soutaichou wasn't hard, his reiatsu was a constant in Soul Society, and from the gravity of it, he was probably one of the only people in Soul Society that could feel his own reiatsu.
 
He met with Yamamoto outside the temporary holding cells, his fukutaicho Chōjirō a couple of paces behind the soutaicho. He nodded to them both. “You needed me for something?”
 
Yamamoto leaned on his cane, regarding him cooly. “I believe you are from the future, as you say. I would like you to hear Ichimaru Gin’s confession and judge if it is the truth.”
 
“Yeah, figured.” He rubbed the back of his neck and yawned, the heat of the day draining. “We going to go in?”
 
Chōjirō spoke up, clearly annoyed. “Are you not taking this seriously?”
 
Ichigo shrugged. “Gin’s a creepy fucker, but he’s not a traitor. This is going to be boring.”
 
Yamamoto cracked open an eye, leaning on his cane. “You believe him to be innocent.”
 
“If you want my opinion, yeah, he is. I don’t need to hear him talk to tell you that. I fought him more than once, he could have killed me easy and he hardly tried. I couldn’t feel his heart when we fought; it was like he had no resolve to fight me, or for Aizen.”
 
“I see.” If Yamamoto believed him or not, Ichigo couldn’t tell.
 
He followed him inside, to the cell that held Gin. He was still wearing his captain’s haori, leaning against the wall, the vision of boredom.
 
Gin whistled when they entered. “I’m flattered. The soutaicho himself, come to see

me

.”
 
Yamamoto didn’t look amused. “You are to be charged with treason, the sentence for which is death. Do you hold your life in such low regard?”
 
Gin smirked that foxy smile of his. “I ain’t got any regrets.” He looked past him to Ichigo, spearing him with icy, grey eyes. “You did good, kid. I’m almost jealous.”
 
Ichigo wasn’t interested in wasting time here, but he had a piece of information that might prove Gin’s relative innocence. “Hey, Yama-jii. Do you know Gin’s bankai?” Ichigo gave Gin a look, urging him to let him finish, and the ex-captain surprisingly didn’t interrupt.
 
Yamamoto answered easily. “His wakizashi can extend thirteen kilometers at the speed of sound.”
 
Ichigo shook his head. “That’s what Aizen thought too. That’s only part of it. Gin’s bankai turns to dust in that instant when it extends, and within the blade is a powerful poison that means death.” He didn’t take his eyes from Gin. “You intended to stab Aizen through the heart. You succeeded.”
 
Yamamoto asked, “Is this true?”
 
“...Yeah.” He was still watching Ichigo, eyes narrowed. “It didn’t work, did it?”
 
Ichigo gave him a slight shake of his head. “It would have. The Hogyoku embraced his fear of death and made him evolve. It made him even stronger and he killed you.” It was the brutal truth, but he knew Gin had spent years planning it. “Sorry.”
 
Gin folded his arms in his sleeves. “Ch. Well he’s dead now, s’pose it was all still worth it.”
 
Yamamoto studied them. “You knew Aizen would betray Soul Society?”
 
“I knew, but I din’ know the whole plan. Aizen wasn’t trusting. Thought everyone but him was some kind of dumbass.” Ichigo snorted, well acquainted with Aizen’s condescension.
 
Yamamoto demanded. “Why did you not alert Central 46?”
 
Gin pushed away from the wall to face the captain commander eye to eye. “Selfish. Tha’s some of it, but the bastard was sneaky. Woulda’ killed me if I did anythin’ suspicious. Don’t like ta admit it, but he was smarter than me.”
 
Yamamoto asked, “What were your intentions when you followed Aizen?”
 
“Ta kill the bastard.”
 
“Why?” Yamamoto wasn’t fooled, he could see it was a personal grudge.

Gin said nothing, and the look he gave Yamamoto was carefully neutral. Ichigo realized after a moment Gin didn’t intend to say anything. Ichigo said, “I know why.” The look Gin gave him would have chilled the blood of any shinigami. Ichigo wasn’t cowed, not after facing Aizen, Ulquiorra, Nnoirtai...
 
Yamamoto didn’t press for more answers, turning to leave. “That will be all.”
 
Ichigo made to follow, but Gin stopped him with a word. “Kid.”
 
Ichigo paused, and Yamamoto and his fukutaicho kept walking, giving Gin his moment. He waited until they were alone to ask. “What happened to Rangiku?”
 
“She cried, she drank, she pretended she didn't care. She was so angry at you...but it hasn’t happened.” And it never would.
 
Gin took his place back up against the wall. “Ah, ain’t that the truth.”
 
Ichigo went after Yamamoto, and he thought he might have heard Gin thank him, but he didn’t pause to ask. Yamamoto waited for him outside and he asked, “What’s going to happen to him?”
 
Yamamoto hummed thoughtfully. “He was behaving out of personal vindication, even if the results were in Soul Society’s favor. That said, I might be able shield his behavior and lessen his punishment in the defense he was acting out of the best interest of Soul Society. It will be some time before Central 46 can be reappointed.”
 
He only nodded, not liking the idea of an objectively innocent man being killed any more than he liked the idea of Rukia being killed. He thought for a moment he wouldn’t fight all of Soul Society over it, but he remembered how Gin had subtly tried to help him, to keep him from being slaughtered by Aizen while his father fought. He’d left himself wide open and Gin hadn’t attacked him to kill, he’d only kept him on his toes. “He did what he thought was right.”
 
“Come to my office after sunset.”
 
He stared after Yamamoto as he left, wondering what to do with himself. He hadn’t eaten in a long time, he was hungry, even if the idea of food was still a bit nauseating.

“You should not be alone, Ichigo. Go back to the eleventh.”

Ossan was right. He flash-stepped away, his heart heavy, but when he found the eleventh drinking and in an uproar, he found a smirk spreading across his face. He flung open the door and an empty bottle of sake nearly hit him square in the nose. He caught it, looking past it to Zaraki.
 
Yachiru jumped up and squealed, “Ichi!”
 
Zaraki slammed his fist on the table, knocking nearly everything over. “There you are!” He started to draw his sword. “I looked for you all damn day and now you just stroll in?”
 
He dropped the bottle, torn. Run or fight? Shiiiiit. “I already told you I’m not gonna fight you.”
 
The look on his face was a mix of insanity and eagerness. “You’re not getting away.”

“Come on, King, let me out. It’s dreary as fuck in here.”

Ichigo side-stepped a sudden downward slash, skipping back to the drunken cheers of his division. He would just make Zaraki take responsibility for whatever dumb shit Zangetsu might do.
 
He jumped back again, dodging another slash while Zaraki laughed, clearly uninterested in conversation. “Draw your sword!”
 
Sounded like consent to him. “Good enough,” he muttered.
 
He felt the pull on his reiatsu and he let Zangetsu take it, his hollow rushing forward once he had free reign. He didn’t move when Zaraki swung again, watching the captain passively. Zangetsu manifested in front of him, blocking the hit with an unwrapped Zanpakuto.
 
Zaraki looked surprised, then his grin spread back across his face. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but you look like Ichigo. You gonna fight?”
 
“Duh dumbass, that’s why I’m ‘ere.”
Zangetsu laughed with just as much insanity as Zaraki, pushing the captain back. Their reiatsu clashed, Zangetsu’s pushing Zaraki’s back, blowing the back wall out.
 
Yachiru giggled, chasing after the pair through the hole in the wall. “Thanks Ichii!”
 
Ichigo winced at the destruction, supervising for a moment to be sure Zangetsu was behaving. The division was still rowdy, but the conversation had taken a hit after he’d manifested what appeared to be a hollow. Given Zaraki seemed excited about this, they saw no reason to interfere or be concerned. They crowded around the gap in the wall to watch from a “safe” distance.
 
He rolled his eyes to the sound of his hollow’s taunts and the enthusiastic battle they’d moved to the courtyard. Seemed his concern was misplaced.

He picked out his friends sitting together across the room, raising his hand in greeting. “Yo!” Orihime was sitting with her legs pulled up to her chest, waving enthusiastically. Ishida was sitting on his knees, as rigid as ever, obviously uncomfortable in the atmosphere. Chad seemed at ease, lifting a hand in greeting as Ichigo took a seat across for them.
 
Ishida asked, “Was that your hollow?”
 
“Ah.” Ichigo kneeled at the table and reached over to take some rice from the steamer in the center, hungrier than he expected.
 
Orihime looked at the hole in the wall and the drunken division crowding at the edge of the room. “Is it really okay?”
 
“Yeah, he won’t do anything I don’t want him to.” He scarfed down his rice, and his nonchalance seemed to be catching, as they relaxed.
 
The drain on his reiatsu was high, especially fighting someone like Zaraki, but he made no comment or move to hold Zangetsu back. If he let him out to play, he’d be less noisy later on. The only one that really seemed to notice was Ishida, which wasn’t that surprising.
 
He really only felt it after a Getsuga Tensho or two, but they were mostly for show, and Zangetsu wasn’t going to have to push himself to win.
 
Orihime shifted to her knees and asked, “Did you see Rukia-san today?”
 
Ichigo shook his head as he swallowed. “Nah, I was busy, but I think she went to go see the Shiba’s. We’ll see her tomorrow for sure.” He felt bad that he was missing out on dinner with the Shiba’s again, but he had his meeting with Yamamoto, and the sun was already setting.

Only got a few more minutes.

“Fuck off!”

Fuck you too.

“Busy?” Orihime tilted her head, curious.
 
He shrugged. “Just had some things to take care of. How was today?”
 
“Oh, good! Yachiru is so nice, she really seemed to like you. Or, I guess, that you were a friend to the captain?”
 
Ichigo made a face. “Ah. Well I kicked his ass.” Orihime nodded like she understood, but from the blank look on her face he wasn’t sure she did.
 
He looked at Ishida. “I see you found a shirt.”
 
Ishida shouted, indignant. “I

made

this!”
 
“Looks good, Ishida. Black isn’t your color.” He set his bowl aside and stretched, grinning. “You make that for Chad too? I don’t remember crosses being his thing.”
 
“Of course, I only modified it to make it better!”
 
Chad sweat, noticing Ishida expected a comment. “It’s...nice.”
 
Ichigo laughed and leaned back on his hands. He’d missed hanging out with his friends, it was refreshing. He had a taste for battle, but he didn’t want to fight all of the time. Besides, at the moment, Zangetsu was fighting enough for two.
 
He looked to Orihime. “You still live alone, right?”
 
She blushed. “Y-yeah!”
 
“Tomorrow you should ask Rukia if she can stay with you when she comes back.”
 
“Wasn’t Rukia-san staying with Kurosaki-kun?”
 
“I’m not going to be staying at home.” He said it matter-of-fact, he’d made peace with the fact his old life was no longer his own when he’d attacked Yoruichi. He would never put his sisters in danger like that, he would simply get a job and live alone, it was that simple.
 
His friends sensed the gravity behind his words, but chose not to comment. Orihime fussed with her skirt. “But my apartment is so small.”
 
“It wouldn’t be for too long, and she adores you.” He knew he wasn’t putting her out, she’d always liked having company, especially Rukia.
 
Orihime wasn’t too sure what to do with the compliment. “A-ah, I’ll ask her!”
 
He smiled, then got to his feet. “I have to go see Yama-jii, or I’d stay. Sorry, guys.”
 
He forced Zangetsu to come back, cutting off his reiatsu. The explosion of swearing in his head made him wince, a roar of frustration erupting from outside. “See ya!” He lifted a hand in farewell, then disappeared before Zaraki could give chase. The one real blessing was that he’d never learned shunpo.

“I had him, why’d you pull me back?!”

It’s almost dark.

“Ah. Ichigo shouldn’t test the soutaichou’s trust so soon. We will ultimately have more freedom by complying with his wishes.”

He earned another round of swearing, his hollow taking his wrath out on his inner city. He didn't know if that was actually causing brain damage or not, but better in his head than running rampant in Seireitei.

Suck it up.

He ran along the rooftops, not bothering with shunpo, and alighted on the ground to walk the rest of the way to the soutaichou’s office. It was just after sundown when he stepped into the main building, proud of himself for not being late. He'd never been to this building before, he'd only spoken to him in person in the captain's meeting room. He thought he might have seen his office through a transmission before, but he'd never paid much attention.
 
His fukutaicho let him inside, polite, but his disapproval radiated off of him in waves. He was use to people disliking him, it wasn’t too far from ordinary.
 
Yamamoto stood overlooking Seireitei, the side wall of his office open from floor to ceiling, interspersed with broad, practical columns. The room was empty save for a modest looking desk and chair, and it couldn’t have suited him more. He supposed this might be intimidating to some, but honestly, the man was intimidating enough on his own.
 
He hovered just inside the door, waiting for him to say something. He could only see his back, so he couldn’t be sure what he was thinking.
 
After a moment he asked, “What could have gone so badly that we would turn to a human boy for help?”
 
Ichigo crossed the room to stand beside him, just a couple of steps behind. He wasn’t too fond of being treated like a child, but the soutaichou treated most like that, he couldn’t take it too personally. “I was the only one who hadn't seen the release of his shikai.” He wasn't sure what he made of that fact, his expression remained unchanged.
 
“What can you tell me of the plans Aizen lay for the future?”
 
Ichigo wasn't sure where to start. “He raised an army of arrancar in Las Noches. Some were relatively weak, but others were strong enough I think they could have taken out the entirety of the Gotei 13 alone. They were only killed out of luck. I can give you a list of known arrancar and their abilities...”
 
“You wish to trade for this information.” The ancient shinigami fixed him with a warning stare, hearing the silent question in Ichigo’s tone.
 
“I wouldn't withhold it if you denied my request. There's a handful I want to handle on my own.” Nel, even Grimmjow, they were different from the others, from arrancar like Nnoitra.
 
“I'll consider that request once I know more. What else can you tell me?”
 
His hollow had some pleasant things to say about that. He struggled to ignore him.
 
“Aizen created an arrancar specifically to douse the flames of your Zanpakuto.” He shrugged loosely. “But I don’t know if he’s made him yet, he was busy last time he fled Soul Society.”
 
Yamamoto let out a self assured grunt. “What led to your involvement? Soul Society should no longer be of any concern to you.”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, trying to distance himself from what he had to tell him. “Aizen took up an interest in my hollowfication, and in Orihime Inoue’s power. In the end, the Hogyoku proved stronger than anything he had interest in, and when he failed to create the King’s Key, he decided to destroy it all, including Karakura. He made it personal.” He left out the part about Aizen being responsible for his mother's death. He'd rather Soul Society not meddle around in his life any more than necessary.
 
“You're very careful to avoid telling me details.” He asked again. “Just what was it that involved you and Inuoe in this war?”

“Busted.”

“Ichigo has never given anyone any reason to doubt where his loyalties lie. This was inevitable.”

“She was kidnapped, and I went to bring her back.”
 
Yamamoto looked over at him, filling in the blanks with a look of immense disapproval. The shinigami never would have condoned a rescue mission that was the equivalent of a suicide mission.
 
Ichigo scoffed. “Don't give me that look. After all the bullshit I went through for Rukia, do you think I wouldn't do the same for Inuoe?”
 
“You put the worlds at risk!” The sudden change in volume and demeanor was a bit unsettling, but Ichigo didn’t even flinch. He knew what he'd done wasn't logical, but he wouldn’t change a damn thing.
 
Ichigo met his eyes steadily. “There are some things I can’t abide.”
 
Yamamoto’s grip on his cane tightened. “Foolish infant.”
 
Ichigo had no intentions of budging on that front, even if it

was

foolish. He couldn’t help throwing away everything for a chance he might be able to save one more person. He couldn’t even bring himself to abandon Zangetsu.
 
He promised. “I won’t let her be taken again. This time, Soul Society’s forces won’t be divided.”

He knew Kisuke told her to stay out of things in an effort to protect her, but it had backfired. This time he wouldn’t hide her away, he’d keep her close. If they discovered her ability to heal was so absolute, those arrancar that rejected their high speed regeneration might show interest in her. No matter how slim the possibility, he was going to be prepared.
 
“When will this occur?”
 
“It might not happen at all. Who knows how the Espada will react, or if they even know that he’s dead.”
 
“Regardless, tell me. Events may not stray that far from the past you know.”
 
“Aizen sent arrancar on a scouting mission only a few days after he fled Soul Society. They were determining if I was a threat, I think. I got my ass kicked, and then a Task Force was stationed in Karakura.
 
“Shortly after that, an arrancar with a bone to pick came after me with his Fraccion. He was pulled back before he could win.” And now that he knew what Grimmjow could do, he had no doubt he would have beat Shinji, especially when the visored had been keeping his shikai a secret from Aizen. “Then, Aizen sent a team of four of the same arrancar to Karakura and they left once they got Orihime.”
 
“Who was present in these fights?”
 
“Uhhh...On and off, it was Toshiro, Renji, Rukia, Yumichika, Ikkaku, Rangiku, and...me.. Urahara Kisuke was present in all of them, but he didn’t always fight.” He left out the visored’s, not wanting to mention them if he could help it.
 
“Did our forces prevail?”
 
“The second time around everyone got their seals lifted and they won easy. The third time, we won, but the arrancar hadn’t even unsealed their swords. They were just stalling until they had Inuoe.”
 
“Was this girl worth so much trouble?”
 
He stared at him, wondering if he should tell him the extent of Inoue’s power. It was stronger than should be possible, something he was unsure was the work of the Hogyoku.

“He will find out eventually, Ichigo.”

“Inuoe can reject reality. Even if there's no arm left, she can bring it back.” He saw the look on the soutaicho’s face, clearly he could read between the lines well enough to realize Inuoe had been used to heal the enemy.
 
“I can understand what would draw Aizen to such an ability. How was she allowed to be captured?”
 
Ichigo scowled, aware he was blaming him for being incompetent. “She was here in Soul Society during the invasion of Karakura, and when word got to Soul Society of the attack, she was sent back through the Dangai with two seated shinigami. She never made it back. Her escorts would have been killed if she hadn’t healed them.”
 
“The girl was captured within the Dangai?”
 
“Yeah. They opened a garganta and sent their best to retrieve her. Ulquiorra. Her escorts didn’t stand a chance, neither did she.” He rubbed his neck and shrugged lightly. “This might all be irrelevant now that Aizen is dead.”
 
“Humor me, Kurosaki. Tell me about the strongest of these arrancar.”
 
“Aizen ranked the strongest arrancar as Espada, numbered 1 through 10, 1 being the strongest. Barragan was the segundo Espada, but he was easily one of the strongest, if not

the

strongest. He's probably crowned himself king of Las Noches again, and from what I understand, he was getting bored ruling over a desert with no opposition. He might stage an attack purely out of boredom.”
 
“What were his abilities?”
 
“Time, I think. He could rot everything around him just by standing there, he was untouchable. The other Espada had power, but he was absurd.”
 
He asked, “How was he defeated?”
 
Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “Luck, and his own hubris. The only thing that seemed to hurt him was his own power.”
 
“Who defeated him?”
 
Ichigo stiffened at the question, wondering what to say. The only one that was likely capable of killing the Espada was Yamamoto with pure power, himself, Aizen, and Hacchi.
 
“Kurosaki.” The soutaichou’s  tone was sharp, breaking Ichigo from his thoughts. He realized he'd been quiet for some time. He looked over at Yamamoto, then away in dismissal. “I can't tell you...Not yet.”
 
“You would withhold crucial information?” There was a warning edge to his voice, one that Ichigo felt an unconscious desire to back away from.
 
“Yes. The situation is delicate, and things need to unravel a certain way. You're just going to have to trust me.” The visored still felt betrayed, winning them over might not be possible without Aizen to motivate them, but their help was desperately needed, regardless of what the arrancar did.
 
“If Soul Society did not owe you a great debt for dispatching Aizen, this conversation would have gone very differently.” It was a warning and a backhanded compliment if he’d ever heard one.
 
Ichigo let out an annoyed sigh and leaned forward on the railing. His guard was lowered as much as he could manage, this shinigami wasn’t his enemy, and he never would be, even if they sometimes disagreed. “Look, Yama-jii...I haven’t ever done what you told me too, that’s not specific to this situation, and a few years difference isn’t going to change that. I’m not your enemy, I’ve never been your enemy. I do what I need to, that’s all.”
 
“And if what you need to do goes against Soul Society?”
 
“I might oppose some of your laws, but I stand for what you stand for. If the Soul King falls, it’s shit for me too. If I have the power to do something about it, and if I have the power to save my friends,

I will.

” He murmured, “I won’t fail again.” He knew that didn’t line up with Yamamoto’s plans, not entirely, and he really did feel bad about that. “Sorry.”
 
Yamamoto gave him a slight shake of his head, stepping up to the railing. “You’re a troublesome child, Kurosaki.”
 
“Sorry.”
 
“You don’t mean that.”
 
Ichigo looked at him and grinned. “Not really.”
 
He went on to explain the power of the arrancar he’d fought and understood, from Yammy to Ulquiorra’s Segunda Etapa. He left out events and the Visored, not wanting to corrupt the future he needed to happen. Even if Aizen was dead, he’d still gathered arrancar and organized them into the Espada. If they had a real leader, they might become just as much of a threat. The only way to know for sure would be to stop by Hueco Mundo himself, and that wouldn’t be possible inside Soul Society, not without setting off all manner of alarms.
 
They spoke about taking Rukia back to the human world, and knowing he was going to have to go talk to Mayuri to contact Urahara pissed him off to no end. He'd rather take a garganta than have to share space with him, but it was a relatively easy order to follow.
 
He spoke with him for another two hours, then left, mentally exhausted. It could have gone worse, but at least if he wasn’t trusted, Yamamoto seemed to trust

who

he was.

“It’s a start, Ichigo. You could be in prison, or worse.”

He was walking back when he ran into Rukia. Rather, she was waiting for him just outside. It was almost strange to see her wearing anything but the usual shihakusho of a shinigami, she just looked like a regular girl. She stood in his path, a determined, somber look on her face.
 
He knew that look. “Hey, Rukia. How long were you waiting?”
 
“Not long…” Her brows furrowed and she opened her mouth to speak.
 
Ichigo didn’t let her. “Before you say anything, I want to apologize…” He looked down, unsure how much, if anything, she'd heard from others, but he was sure the rumors were terrible. “I had the power to save you days of suffering, and I did nothing. I could have saved you, and I couldn't.

I’m sorry.

”
 
“IDIOT!!”
 
His eyes widened, looking back to her. She stomped over to him, gripping the front of his shihakusho in her fist to drag him down to eye level. “Don't apologize, stupid, I just wanted to be sure you were okay! You killed Aizen, then disappeared!”
 
He defended. “I didn't think you'd want to see me!”
 
“Ukitake taicho spoke to me.”
 
“

Shit

.

”
 
Her expression shifted into something far more placid, and she let him go. “Ichigo...you’re still my friend. I don’t know how I didn’t notice earlier, how much older you look, stronger. You got tall.” She shook her head, chasing away her thoughts.
 
“Rukia…”
 
“Let me finish! I’m not expecting you to tell me anything. You saved my life, you got me my best friend back, my brother...Your reiatsu feels different,

you

seem different.” It sounded like she’d also gotten to talking to Renji. Given they were both less beat up than the first time around, that wouldn’t be surprising.
 
“Ah. A lot of time has passed.” He could only vaguely see the differences. He didn’t remember what he used to be like, it was all a blur in his memories. Everything will be fine, once we get that fucking rock out of your soul and deal with the arrancar.”
 
Her expression fell, disappointed he deflected her concerns.

Ichigo smiled. “Oy, midget. I’m fine.” He was lying through his teeth, but he didn’t want to see her so sad. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he just wasn't sure if she could help.
 
He ruffled her hair, much to her indignation. “If you waited all that time I can at least walk you home.”
 
“I'm perfectly capable!”
 
He shrugged off her argument, raising a brow. “Maybe

I

want some company.”
 
“O-oh.” That shut her up for a moment. “I'm staying with nii-sama. That way.” She pointed and started in that direction, but Ichigo already knew where to go.
 
They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, then Rukia’s curiosity got the better of her. “What did you talk about?”
 
Yama-jii hadn't ordered him to keep quiet about anything other than the King’s Key, probably because he knew how pointless that would be. “Even with Aizen gone, there might be a war with the Arrancar. I can't imagine they'll be excited to sit on their hands. If they don't kill each other and somehow manage to cooperate, they’ll be looking for a fight.”
 
“Even without Aizen?”
 
He looked up in thought, never the best at strategy outside of a battle. “Probably. A lot of them just did whatever they wanted. There are a few I have a personal grudge against, but some of them actually weren’t all that bad for arrancar.”
 
She frowned at him. “Don’t run off and do something stupid.”
 
“I’m definitely going to do something stupid.”
 
He smirked and she backhanded his arm. “I'm being serious!”
 
“Me too. Even if I know something is stupid, that doesn't mean I won't still do it. I saved your scrawny ass, didn't I?”
 
She pouted, but she couldn't argue with the smile on his face. He was happy to see her again, and she was a physical reminder that doing what he knew in his heart was right, even if it was stupid, was worth it.
 
She crossed her arms, indignant. “At the very least, don't leave me out of whatever you do. That goes for Renji too.”
 
“Course not. Once you get your power back, you can start training again for bankai. You’ll need it.”
 
She flushed, looking caught. “How did you know?”
 
“You're strong, strong people are never satisfied.” He didn't think she was expecting that answer, her brows scrunching together in thought.
 
They made it to Byakuya’s place, fancy as it was, and Ichigo parted ways with his friend at the gate, letting her know she should go see Orihime. She seemed surprised Inuoe asked for her at all, but he couldn’t imagine why, Orihime had always looked up to her.

He walked back to the eleventh, pleased to see that Zaraki was asleep by the time he got there. At least, his reiatsu was calmed down some, so he assumed that meant he wouldn’t have to sneak into his own room. He walked around the gauges carved out of the courtyard, courtesy of Zaraki and Zangetsu. It was deserted, everyone had gone to sleep awhile ago.
 
He got to his room and sat down cross legged. After his talk with Yama-jii, he was feeling restless, not tired. He dropped into his mindspace and good long talk about their future. He knew what he wanted to do, what he

needed

to do, but the when and how was still up in the air.
 
They came to a decision, he let Zangetsu take over, and he finally tried to sleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo stood outside that twelfth division doors, scowling at all the traps laid around him. In the ground, the doors, the walls. They were all Kidou type, layered into technology, and while none of them would actually do damage to him, it would be annoying to get blown up first thing in the morning.
 
He put his hands on his hips, getting irritated. “Oy! I know you can see me, open the fucking door!”
 
And more silence. He was considering just blowing the doors down. He wasn’t going to just stand around outside all day. He didn’t think it was too much to ask that Mayuri bend his schedule to accommodate him, the shifty bastard. After what he did to Ishida, he wasn’t in the best of moods.
 
He reached for Zangetsu’s hilt. “I’m about 3 seconds away from “testing” your defenses!”
 
“One!”
 
“

Two

!”
 
The doors moved, then shifted open, Nemu standing on the other side, hands clasped in front of her. “Good morning, Kurosaki-kun. If you would come with me.”
 
Of course the bastard wouldn’t come himself. He let go of his sword and followed her in silence. It was a long hallway, and he had a feeling it was just as precarious as the front doors. She asked, “How is the Quincy?”
 
He hadn’t been expecting her to ask that. “Yeah, Orihime healed him, he’s fine.”
 
“I see. I’m glad.”
 
Then the conversation lapsed back into silence. He wondered why she cared, but then he remembered Ishida explaining what happened with her during their fight. He’d gotten a simple explanation, but no details, and now he wondered if there was more to it.
 
She led him to a huge room with massive ceilings, all sorts of technology and experiments he didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand cluttering the space. It was dimly lit, the only real light coming from a huge computer display that filled the far wall.
 
He picked out Mayuri’s silhouette by the monitors. He crossed over to him, trying not to look too closely at the more questionable experiments. “Let’s get this over with.”
 
Mayuri’s face seemed to be stuck in a permanent expression of disgust, muttering angrily. “What a waste of time and resources. If the girl was turned over to me I’d have the blasted rock out of her soul in minutes.”
 
Ichigo’s voice was deadpan. “That would significantly shorten your life.”
 
Mayuri scoffed and waved a hand in dismissal. “The soul wouldn’t be that badly damaged.”
 
“Just make the call.” His hands were already balled into fists. He couldn’t stand this guy, he reminded him of Szayel; they had the same eyes.
 
The taicho’s hands danced over the keyboard while Ichigo came up beside him. He didn’t stop typing, but he glanced across to him. “Your reiatsu is intriguing.”
 
“Fuck off.”
 
“The readings I’m getting off of you are familiar. If I could just get some blood-”
 
“No.” He wasn’t amused, and he wasn’t fooled. “Stop stalling, connect the call.”
 
Mayuri’s expression was flat, pressing a single button. A smaller screen turned to static, then flickered to show picture, Urahara appearing on the other end. He lifted his fan, a wide grin on his face. “Ah, if it isn’t Mayuri and Kurosaki-san! I love what you’ve done with the place!”
 
Mayuri ground his teeth. “I didn’t contact you for idle chatter.” He turned away and waved Ichigo forward. “Wrap this up.”
 
Ichigo stepped forward, resting his hands to his hips. He didn’t let Mayuri get behind him, keeping him in his peripheral. “Hey, geta-boshi.”
 
“How are the others? Doing well, I hope.”
 
“Ah, they’re alright. Aizen is dead, but I need you to remove the Hogyoku.”
 
Kisuke snapped his fan closed. “Is that wise?”
 
“Cat’s outta the bag, Urahara.” He wasn’t going to tell him anything specific over a monitored transmission, but Kisuke wasn’t stupid.
 
He dipped his head in understanding, tapping his fan against his chin in thought. “Ah. I’ll make preparations. When should I expect you?”
 
“We’re heading back today.”
 
He smiled. “Then I’ll be ready tonight. See you, Kurosaki-san.”
 
The picture went to static, Ichigo’s eyes sliding over to Mayuri. He looked like he was being sneaky, and it made him nervous. Mayuri seemed to think he was the predator here, that was false.
 
He was in his path, so he made to go around him. Mayuri reached out to grab his arm, and his eyes snapped to Mayuri’s in warning.
“Don’t touch me.”
He lowered his reiatsu to where he could feel every ounce of his rage.
 
Mayuri’s hand stopped short of his shihakusho, his mouth stretched in a manic smile. “

How interesting

.” Ichigo was surprised he could still stand, he chalked it up to whatever modifications he’d done to himself. “You intended to kill me just now, didn’t you?” He started to laugh. ”The tests I could run would be so enlightening.”
 
He clenched his jaw and turned away, cautiously monitoring his reiatsu in case he tried anything tricky. “Crazy bastard.”
 
He left to the sound of his laughter echoing in the hall and he tried to ignore the urge to run away. If he could get away with killing Mayuri with no consequences, he probably would have.
 
He went back to the eleventh to pick up his friends, then they set up to Sokyoku Hill to go through the Senkaimon so Orihime, Chad, and Ishida could travel back through the reishihenkanki. He didn’t talk much, tense after meeting with Mayuri. He didn’t mean to come off as distant, but he couldn’t help feeling distracted.
 
Without Kisuke there to calibrate the Senkaimon properly, once they ran through and away from the cleaner, they ended up in the sky. He was fine, heights weren’t a problem, but the others would have had trouble if Urahara hadn’t been there to catch them with his weird magic carpet.
 
Rukia wasn’t with them yet, she was coming to Karakura, but with an escort this time. Knowing that a Garganta could be opened within the dangai made traveling through it dangerous when she had the Hogyoku inside her soul. Byakuya volunteered to be an escort, along with Renji. Now that Renji was confirmed to have bankai, it was apparently deemed he was good enough to count as a bodyguard.
 
Urahara brought them all back to the shop to wait for Rukia and her escorts, but Ichigo didn’t intend to wait around. He said some goodbye’s and left, along with Ishida and Chad. Orihime stayed behind to wait for Rukia. He felt a little bad, but from what he understood, it was painless, so once the Hogyoku was separated from her soul, she would only need to rest and recover.
 
There was nothing he could do here, and he wanted to get the Visoreds taken care of as soon as possible, and he wanted to be the one to tell them. He could go knock down their door, or he could call them to him, and he thought the latter was smarter. They would only get more suspicious than they were already going to be if he just barged in.
 
Kisuke cornered him before he left and gave him a cell phone, one that wouldn’t just stop working the second his reiatsu touched it. He was tempted to leave it, knowing there was a tracker in it, but he decided he trusted Kisuke, and if it made the man feel better to know where he was, so be it. Plus, it could actually be useful if he needed to get in touch.

--- xxx ---

He stood more or less in the middle of town, albeit several hundred feet above it, not too close and not too far from the warehouse. He didn't remember exactly where it was after all those years, but he found it simply because he noticed an area he couldn't sense at all. It was like his attention was diverted away from it. He'd know Hacchi’s work anywhere, he didn't think anyone that wasn't already looking for it would have noticed.
 
He dropped his reiatsu down to a level others could sense it, letting his hollow reiatsu bleed into his power. He was essentially setting up a beacon, so all he had to do was wait. There was no way the visoreds wouldn’t be curious enough to check.
 
He wasn’t disappointed, the reiatsu he felt rushing towards him was distinctly hollow-like. If he wasn’t so familiar with the visored in question, he might have missed it he was masking it so well.
 
They stopped a cautious distance behind him, but they made no move to draw their weapon. So far so good. His lips turned up into a small smile. “Hirako.”
 
“Ahhhh, so you know my name?” Hirako made a thoughtful sound, tapping his sword on his shoulder. “I don’t recall ever introducing myself. Have we met before?”
 
Ichigo turned, seeing that cocky smirk on Shinji’s face. He said, “You wouldn’t remember.”
 
“You think I’d remember hair like that.”
 
Ichigo's smile widened, for once not bothered by the taunt. It was good to see him alive again.
 
Hirako said, “You put out a bunch of reiatsu to get our attention, right? How do you know about us? What do

you

want?”
 
He paused, not certain if telling him was the wrong move, then cut to the chase. “I thought you'd like to know that Aizen is dead.”
 
Hirako’s eyes narrowed, his hand white-knuckled on his Zanpakuto. “What was that?”
 
“Aizen is dead. I killed him.”
 
Hirako frowned, looking at Ichigo like he was seeing him for the first time. “You're lying. No way some strawberry head punk killed

Aizen

.”
 
“Why would I lie about that? I know what he did to you and the others, you needed to hear it, and I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
 
“I don't know you.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed in remorse. “

I

know

you

.”
 
Hirako suddenly jumped forward, drawing his Zanpakuto and slashing in the same motion.

“Poor choice of words, moron.”

Don’t wanna hear it.

Ichigo didn’t want to draw his sword on a friend, so he reached up and caught the blade in his hand. “Hirako, I didn’t come here to fight you.”
 
The former captain was startled by the ease that he stopped his sword, his eyes widening. He jerked his sword from his grip and slid back in the sky, reishi swirling around his feet. “Impossible.”
 
Ichigo sighed. “People keep saying that, and it’s clearly not.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I just want to talk. Preferably with all of you.”
 
Hirako just frowned at him.
 
He dropped his hands, reaching for the phone, noticing how Hirako tensed when he put his hand in his pocket. He slowed considerably, holding the phone up so he could see. “Chill, it’s just a phone.” Turns out it was useful after all. “Give me a sec.”
 
He called Kisuke, who had conveniently added himself to speed dial. He held it up to his ear, a scowl on his face.
 
“Kurosaki-san~!” He picked up rather quickly. So maybe he knew this would happen; sneaky bastard.
 
“Oy, Kisuke. Got someone here for you to talk to.”
 
“Could that be Hirako-chan?”
 
“You’re not cute, and I don’t wanna hear an ‘I told ya so!’”
 
“Maaaah, so mean, Kurosaki-san.” His scowl deepened, taking the phone away from his ear and tossing it at Hirako.
 
The visored blanched, hand snapping up to catch it before it hit him square in the face. He hesitantly lifted the phone to his ear, watching Kurosaki out of the corner of his eye. Ichigo wasn’t privy to their conversation, and given Hirako’s expression didn’t change, he couldn’t guess either.
 
The visored looked away in thought, then back to Ichigo. He didn’t know what Kisuke told him, but Hirako looked decidedly less homicidal. Hirako grunted an affirmative, then hung up, flipping it shut. He tossed it back to Ichigo. “Sure sounds like Kisuke.”
 
“Of course it's Kisuke. Dunno what he told you, but I’m on your side. Can't prove it if you won't let me, but think about it, if I really wanted to fight you, do you really think I would have to go through all this trouble?”
 
Hirako hadn’t lowered his sword, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Beats me, what do you want?”
 
“From you? Nothing.”
 
Hirako snapped, “Bullshit.”
 
Seeing the hostility in the other was a bit jarring, it was proof that the life he remembered hadn’t happened. He supposed he should have expected this. It was a lonely feeling.
 
He frowned, because this wasn’t getting him anywhere. “You helped me control my inner hollow, I owe you for that. You don’t remember it, but I do.” It was a partial lie. He didn’t feel he owed Hirako a debt, he simply considered him a friend.
 
“Yer talkin’ crazy, kid.”
 
He let out a slow breath, feeling frustrated. “I get it, Hirako. Some kid that knows more than he should shows up on your doorstep with hollow reiatsu that isn’t batshit. I’d be suspicious too. If you can’t trust me, trust that I hated Aizen. I could lie and say I killed him so no one else would suffer, but I killed him because

I wanted him to die, he deserved it.

” He let out a breath, unclenching his hands.

Calm down.

“He ruined my life. He ruined yours. At the very least, beyond what we are, we have that in common.”
 
Hirako weighed the truth of what he said, he could see it in his eyes. Slowly, the visored sheathed his Zanpakuto. He was still on guard, but he seemed to have come to a decision. “What did you say your name was?”
 
“I didn’t. I’m Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo.”
 
Hirako turned, keeping him in his sight. “Okay,

Ichigo

. Why do you want to see the others?”  
 
“Because this involves all of them. I’m just trying to help.” No answer. “Okay, fine. Your hollow mask looks kind of Egyptian.” He traced a pattern in the air. “Like that.” Hirako’s eyes narrowed, and he tried to think up one better.
 
He looked away in thought, trying to think on the visoreds they had been, not who they had become. “Mashiro could keep her mask on from the get-go with no limit. Lisa likes hentai, she reads it all the time, right there in the open. You and Hiyori fight all the time, she probably only wears those god awful sandals because they’re easy to take off and hit people with them.” There was a wistful fondness to his tone, he was an awful liar, and awful at hiding his emotions. He missed them, and they didn’t know him anymore. They might not ever know him again.
 
“I’ll take you to see the others.” Ichigo looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide. “They can judge for themselves.”
 
In a burst of reishi, Shinji sped off towards the warehouse and Ichigo followed, keeping himself in Hirako’s peripheral just to give the visored some peace of mind. He stayed quiet, worried he’d change his mind if he spoke up. Shinji was smart, smarter than him anyway, so he wasn’t sure what it was that had changed his mind.
 
It didn’t take long for them both to get there, stopping just outside Hacchi’s barrier. Hirako stepped up to the orange barrier and after moment, a person sized gap opened up for them to pass through.
 
The inside was just as dreary as he remembered, but the feeling of nostalgia that bubbled up inside him was unexpected. He’d only spent a few days here, but it was still strange to be back.
 
The visoreds were all perched on various levels of the dilapidated warehouse, all sizing him up. A shrill voice rang out. “Who’re you?!” He looked up at Hiyori with an amused grin. His heart tightened hearing her voice. Her spine was severed, she was dying, Orihime wasn’t there, she wouldn’t get there in time. Shinji was shouting-
 
“This is Kurosaki Ichigo.” Hirako’s voice broke him from his thoughts, blinking. “He has something to tell us.” They could tell from his tone that he was serious, even Lisa looked up and paid attention.
 
Hiyori jumped down a level to get a closer look, ready to draw her Zanpakuto. “You really a visored? You feel weak.”
 
Ichigo groaned. “

Yes

, you brat, do I really gotta prove it?”
 
“Hiyori-”
 
“Can it, baldy! I wanna see what he can do.” Shinji made a half-hearted attempt to stop her, but she was already drawing her Zanpakuto.
 
Ichigo wasn’t in the mood to wipe the floor with his friends. He shot a warning look at Shinji, then reached up, his hand bent in a claw over his face and pulled, drawing his mask out. He was proud of himself for only drawing out his mask, but he didn’t think he could hold it that long.
 
They were all suddenly tense, hands twitching towards their Zanpakuto. He knew what surprised them the most was the lack of reiatsu accompanying the sheer, brutal killing instinct that clouded his aura.
 
He looked up at her from beneath his mask and asked,
“Proof enough for you?”
 
Hiyori’s face was twisted into confusion and rage. “Why can’t we feel yer reiatsu?”
 
He let the mask dissolve before things got too tense. Before, he’d been a threat, but there were so many of them, they knew they had the advantage. This time around, he was an unquantifiable threat. He cut right to the chase before someone got too tense. “Aizen is dead.”
 
There was a shocked pause, the Visored’s staring at him like he’d just announced

he

was Aizen. Hiyori demanded. “How?”
 
“I killed him.”
 
“How did you gain control of your hollow? No way you did that alone!” She didn’t deny that he could, but he could feel the doubt from the visoreds.
 
Ichigo lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “You can have the truth if you want, but I doubt you’ll believe me.” He glanced at Shinji, still uncertain if he believed him or not.
 
Shinji frowned. “Let’s hear it anyway.”
 
He leveled a look at Hirako, wondering if the Visored would trust him enough to believe him. He kept it short and sweet. “I’m from a future where Aizen won. The Hogyoku sent me back in time when I touched it.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. He cared a lot, but he was starting to lose hope. “Figured I’d kill him and do everyone a favor.” He said it lightly, but his voice was still laced with hate and bitterness. He wasn’t ever going to get over that, but he supposed there were worse things.
 
Hiyori snorted, “You expect us to believe that shit?!”
 
“I beat your record.”
 
Hiyori’s eyes narrowed, leaning forward like she was considering attacking. “What the fuck are you talking about baldy?”
 
“Sixty two minutes, thirty seconds.”
 
Kensei grit his teeth. “No way, no one’s ever taken that long.”
 
Ichigo looked a little self conscious. “Well I did.” He knew they wouldn’t be able to explain how he knew Hiyori’s record. It wasn’t something they would share outside of their group, it was a simple, unspoken rule. They looked out for their own, and even when Shinji became a captain again, he always considered himself a visored first.
 
He looked up and explained, “You guys helped me at first, although some of it I was forced to learn on my own. I think my power is a bit different than yours, because I was born this way.” He lifted his hand to the back of his neck with a frown. “This is really starting to hurt my neck, can we take this talk somewhere else?”
 
Hiyori shouted, “What makes you think yer stayin’!”
 
“Well, couple of reasons. I know you want to stay out of shinigami business, but I’m trying to clear your name, was gonna keep you in the loop. For another, with Karakura about to be involved in another war, thought you might want to know how I got stronger.”
 
Hirako’s eyes narrowed. “Stronger how?”
 
“I can show you, but if I do, we should move this downstairs.” He glanced pointedly at the staircase leading to the basement, and he knew the visoreds were wondering how he knew it was there.
 
There was some silence, some arguing, then their curiosity won out, and he found himself in a rocky training field that was nearly identical to Urahara’s. He warned, “Don't flip out. You can put me in a barrier if it makes you feel better.”

Hacchi looked to Shinji, but the visored said nothing. No barrier then.

Zangetsu?

“Yeah, yeah, I'm payin’ attention.”

He pulled on Zangetsu and his hollow met him halfway, materializing before him. He couldn't see the look on Zangetsu’s face, but all the Visoreds suddenly had their hands on the hilt of their Zanpakuto, all except Machiru. Girl was weird, she didn’t seem to have an ounce of fear in her.
 
His hollow reached up to wrap his hand around the hilt of his inverse Zangetsu, and Ichigo still didn't move. Zangetsu didn’t scare him, they were one in the same. He’d done this in his inner world, but never with witnesses. It felt wrong to share this, but he knew them, and they wouldn’t understand unless they saw it. Everyone’s inner hollow was different, but it wasn’t possible to gain more power if all you did was subjugate your hollow.
 
The bandages unfurled around the sword as he drew it, resting the tip right above Ichigo's heart. He turned slightly to face him, turning his back on the visoreds. Zangetsu’s smile softened into one of mutual understanding.
 
He drove the blade into his heart.
 
He heard the visored draw their swords, but there was no blood on the sword in his chest, it passed through him like he wasn't even there. From the feet up, Zangetsu began to dissolve back into him, Ichigo’s reiatsu swirling around him in black and red.
 
Instead of his hollow sinking back into his inner world, he hovered just beneath the surface. It felt like when he took control, but instead of being in the backseat, they were both at the forefront of his mind. They stared back at each other until Zangetsu completely disappeared, making his power entirely hollow in nature.
 
His transformation this time was a bit different. His skin shocked white, a hollow hole opening in his chest. Two jagged black stripes ran down his face and over his eyes. He didn't have his mask this time, horns stretched from his hair, which lengthened down to his waist. His hands sharpened into claws, red fur around his wrists like cuffs, and around his neck like a mane.
 
The visoreds drew their weapons, clearly not expecting this. Ichigo still made no move to draw his sword, blackened eyes narrowing with a small smile he hoped wasn’t too terrifying.
“I know you never asked to be visoreds, but you can make the best of it. Think about it.”
 
He turned on his heel, reaching with his instincts to rip the world. He lifted his hand in a half wave.
“It was nice seeing you again.”
The air split open like the jaws of a beast, turbulent reishi swirling beyond the tear. He stepped into the garganta, closing it behind him before they could respond.
 
He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but he was worried the visored might treat him as an enemy. Things were very different now, the friends he knew were just strangers now. He forced the feeling aside, not allowing it to interfere with what he was about to do.
 
It was a short walk before he emerged in the reishi thick environment of Hueco Mundo. His feet barely sunk into the sand, reaching out with his senses only to feel nothing but lizards and nothingness. He muttered,
“Is it sad that I almost missed this fucking place?”
 
They planned this well enough. He could hold this form as long as he had the reiatsu to spare, and he always had plenty of reiatsu. Being in bankai for over a month was unheard of, but he did it as easily as breathing. Now that he’d hooked the visoreds, he needed to handle Hueco Mundo before the shinigami got involved. His talk with Yama-jii had bought him nothing but time.
 
“

We gonna fight?”

“Psh, what do you think? Ready to show some arrancar who’s alpha dog?”
They'd planned this, but he could count the number of times he'd merged with Zangetsu on one hand. His words weren't so distant, they were loud in his mind, like his thoughts were his own. He wondered if this is was how Zangetsu usually heard him.
 
The swell in his reiatsu, the surge of bloodlust, that was all the answer he needed from Zangetsu.
 
He bent his knees and ran, leaving a swirl of reishi and the boom of sonido in his wake. The dunes flew by in a blur, the silence so reminiscent of his inner world. He knew this place better than his own home.
 
He ran straight towards Las Noches. He'd invaded that place more than once, and he'd been far weaker back then. Now he wasn't rushing to invade, he was going to conquer it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo stopped once was in sight of Las Noches, scanning the dunes for any sign of Nel or her reiatsu. To his disappointment, he didn't see or sense her anywhere. He supposed it might simply be that it was too early in the timeline for her to be there, but he couldn't help fearing the worst. She was by far the most human of the arrancar, and an invaluable ally. He hoped she was okay.
 
He focused again on the palace, his reiatsu undetectable, but his sheer bloodlust might be enough to get him noticed. He didn't really intend to focus on stealth, but for the moment, it was necessary.
 
He was tempted to hunt down Szayel now, but he wasn’t his biggest problem. Ulquiorra was confusing, he hadn’t been able to get a read off of him, so there was no way to know if he’d stuck around or fucked off back to the desert.
 
He started for Las Noches. With sonido, it was only a few steps before he smashed through the outer wall. Probably stupid to just bust in, but his reiatsu wasn’t detectable to them. Once he was inside they wouldn’t be able to find him until he wanted them to find him. He knew he was faster, especially if he went into bankai, but that would be overkill. He was confident in his ability, but he wasn’t necessarily cocky. He knew what they could do, and he knew what he could do. Even if there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he could win, he would still win, because he had to.
 
He flashed through the hallways, zeroing in on a very particular reiatsu.

Nnoitra Gilga.

He wasn’t sure if it was Zangetsu or his own excitement, but he found a grin stretching across his face. It wasn’t a happy expression. He wanted to pay him back for not being able to finish their fight the first time. He grew closer, and the oath of the Onmitsukidō came to him. “

..Rather than standing in the way, you should stab the enemy in the back."

“Do it, King.”

He came to a turn in the hallway and jumped, landing in a crouch on the wall. He drew his sword, kicking off the wall in a burst of sonido. He closed this distance between him and Nnoitra in less than a second, but Nnoitra wasn’t an amateur. He sensed him coming, either his intent to kill or the sound of his sonido. The arrancar whirled to face him, but an instant too late.
 
Nnoitra lifted his sword to block, but he was slow, and Ichigo had the greater reiatsu. His blade chipped Nnoitra’s, sinking into the edge. Nnoitra couldn’t hold him back, his resistence brief. Zangetsu sliced straight through Santa Teresa, severing his arm. He grit his teeth in a savage smile, feeling his sword rip through his hierro. After the ass kicking he’d given him in the past, it felt pretty good.

Sorry, Kenpachi. He’s mine

.
 
“Who the FUCK are you?!” Nnoitra swung what was left of his massive crescent blade in a wide arc.
 
Against anyone else, it might have been a real threat. It stopped short against Ichigo’s raised forearm. The shock reverberated in his bones, but his strike was still too weak. “White.” He didn’t want his name being used against him and his family, this time he would be careful.
 
He pushed his sword off his arm, disappearing in a rush of speed he knew the arrancar couldn’t follow. He reappeared behind him, stabbing Zangetsu through his back, straight through his heart, if the bastard even had one.
 
Blood sprayed from the wound and he twisted his sword, feeling a touch sadistic. Nnoitra snarled in pain and frustration, lashing out wildly, but Ichigo had purposefully kept himself out of reach. He hadn’t forgotten how the arrancar had toyed with him for his own amusement.
 
“I’ve got a lot of Espada to fight, and not a lot of patience.”
 
He yanked his sword free and Nnoitra staggered. He was strong, and for that reason alone he almost didn’t want to kill him, but he was too sadistic and unpredictable. He’d killed Nel, he couldn’t even tolerate the female arrancar; he couldn’t afford to let him live. As fun as it could be, he wasn’t going to let him use his resurreccion either.
 
He kicked him forward, the arrancar stumbling to the ground. He stepped on his back, perching on top of him, and charged a cero. Nnoitra struggled to throw him, but he lowered his reiatsu to where he could feel it, flattening him to the ground. “You got your wish, Nnoitra.” Bastard wanted to die in battle, close enough.
 
His cero grew, energy spiralling in the dim hallway, casting everything in red light. Nnoitra fixed him with an uncomprehending look of fear and denial. He probably didn’t expect to go out like this, but life wasn’t fair.
 
He could hear Zangetsu screaming in his head for him to do it, to kill him, and he didn’t need the encouragement. He wanted him dead.
 
“Gran Rey Cero.”
 
He fired point blank. A wave of black reiatsu rippled out along the floor the beam of his cero blasting straight down into all the floors beneath him. The ground shattered, a wave of dust and displaced reishi surging down the halls. It worked wonders as a distraction. The destruction stretched out for a mile across, and down farther than he could see, noticing space distorting in the air where his attack had streaked.
 
Ichigo stood on a platform of reishi above the yawning hole in the floor, or what was left of it. Most of the pillars caved in on themselves, the destruction not limited to his attack. There was a reason Aizen had forbidden Espada from releasing their Gran Rey Cero indoors.

One down.

He disappeared in a boom of sonido.
 
He could feel the reiatsu of several arrancar converging on him. Despite the massive size of Las Noches, they would be there in moments. He raised his power back to a comfortable level, once again vanishing from their notice.

“Don’t like running.”

He answered aloud, feeling defensive. “We’re not running, we’re engaging them individually.”

“Could probably take them all at once.”

“We’ve been over this. I’m not going to bet my life on a ‘maybe’, and I don’t want to just kill everyone, remember?” He hit a dead end, swore, and turned and doubled back. Fucking maze.
 
He could just smash straight through, but that would lead them straight for him, and he needed the extra time.

“Hollows respect power, King, and ya got plenty of it. What’s the problem?”

“Ichigo can’t fight the entirety of the Espada without taking immense risks. They may still have loyalty to Aizen, or newfound loyalty to Barragan. I’m not willing to let Ichigo to test the limits of his high speed regeneration in a fight against the manipulation of time.”

“

Che

.”
 
It was an argument he was expecting, his hollow didn’t really give a damn about risk. Though, the same could be said about himself, he rarely ever factored in personal risk.
 
He turned down another corridor, heading straight for Harribel. Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t moved at all, but her fraccion was annoyingly close at hand. If it broke out into a fight, it would be bad. If anything happened to her fraccion, he could wave goodbye to his chances of wooing her to his side.
 
He replaced Zangetsu on his back, stopping before a wide room. She stood alone, calmly turning to face him. He knew she wouldn’t have been able to sense him, but she appeared to be waiting for him. Her arms were crossed, and she appeared to be remarkably at ease. The last time he saw her she had been so angry, the contrast was startling.
 
She asked quietly. “You’re the intruder that killed Nnoitra? Are you going to kill me too?” There was a bit of a challenge in her voice, one he hoped he didn’t have to meet.
 
“I hope I don’t have to.”
 
She regarded him coolly, searching him for the strength he would need to back up his threat. “Who are you?”
 
“White.” He could see her doubts and trace the path of her thoughts. She knew he had to be Espada level in power at minimum, the cero through the floor was proof enough of that, but the apparent lack of reiatsu seemed to unsettle her.
 
She suddenly rushed forward, coming at him in a flurry of hakuda. He wasn't as good in hakuda as zanjutsu, but he was far from unskilled. He traded blows with her too quickly to be relying solely on his eyes, he reacted with instinct, some of her attacks slipping through his guard. Blonde hair trailed her every movement, graceful, but deadly in her intent. She was good, but he’d seen her in combat before and his reiatsu was superior Her attacks were backed with a hell of a lot of reiatsu, but they still did next to nothing against his hierro.
 
Ichigo began to lean on the style he'd inadvertently picked up from his father. He started to switch to kicks, using his greater reach to his advantage. She blocked his spinning kick with both of her arms, bracing herself, and she was sent sliding several yards to the side before she got a grip on the reishi beneath her feet.
 
Ichigo didn't pursue, he waited to see if she would attack again. Neither of them were giving it their all, it was an aggressive dance to determine who was stronger without killing each other. The answer she drew from the short exchange was blazingly clear. She was outmatched.
 
She slowly straightened, her guard raised, but she lowered her arms. “You’re not Espada, I've never seen you before. What are you?”
 
“Does it matter?”
 
She considered that, and when Ichigo made no move to explain, she changed the subject. “What do you want?”
 
“I killed Aizen, and decided to take his army for myself.” Yama-jii would not be pleased. The soutaichou would probably rather never see another arrancar again, but he wouldn't take it well when he found out he'd come here alone and against orders to amass power.
 
“What need do you have for an army?” If she doubted he killed Aizen, she didn't show it, Ichigo had just as hard of a time reading her as he did Gin.
 
“There's just one of me.” He grinned, channeling Zangetsu’s desires for a moment. “What's a King without subjects?” He wasn't really being serious, he was deflecting.
 
“You want what I want; we want to keep those close to us safe.” She stiffened, uncertain if he was laying down a threat. “Follow me, and I'll help you achieve that goal.”
 
“Why should I believe that?”
 
“You have the potential to grow even stronger, and since our goals align, I want to be sure that happens.” The fury he'd seen in her when her fraccion fell spoke volumes. “Aizen was going to betray you, y’know. Barragan would sooner do the same. I won't. You'll be queen of Hueco Mundo, I'll make sure no one bothers you, if you don't bother with mine.”
 
“And whom do you consider yours?”
 
“The humans, the shinigami.” He was making her an offer she couldn't refuse; Death, as opposed to everything she wanted.
 
She blinked and looked away, thoughtful. “And who would you have us fight to keep that arrangement?” He was surprised she broke eye contact at all.
 
He answered, “No one that doesn’t already want a fight.”
 
“There are stronger Arrancar.”
 
“Barragan won’t be around for long, Starrk isn’t interested in leading, Szayel is batshit, and it feels like Luppi is dead. You’re level headed, you have a sense of honor, and a desire and ability to lead.”
 
She couldn’t argue with those points. She looked back at him, brows drawing down. “Why kill Nnoitra?”
 
His eyes darkened, hands clenching into fists at the flicker of unforgotten rage. “He killed without discrimination. He stabbed my comrade in the back, so I returned the favor tenfold.” Just knowing Nnoitra had betrayed Nel made his blood boil. There was a dark place in his mind he reserved for those that betrayed their comrades. He'd watched her die once, but never again.
 
She accepted his answer with a look of cold approval. “I’ll consider your offer, White.” She warned, “Leave my fraccion out of it.”
 
“As long as they say out of my way.” He wasn’t making threats or promises. If they decided to fight, he could make no guarantees they would survive. “The same goes for you.”
 
He liked Harribel, she cared about the arrancar that followed her, and she had a vicious streak in battle he could appreciate. He’d much rather fight with her than against her. She was plenty strong in her resurreccion, he couldn’t imagine how strong she would be when she realized her Segunda Etapa. He had no doubt she was capable of it.
 
He flashed away with sonido, zeroing in on his next target. He could go after Yammy now, but he was stupid, which made him predictable. His next biggest threat was Ulquiorra.
 
The Espada was still around, surprisingly, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. He’d never understood what had made him follow Aizen to begin with. The arrancar had an unhealthy desire to break people, and he had a strange fascination with Orihime.
 
He found the creepy fucker in a hallway, and there was no sneaking up on him. Ichigo flashed into view at the end of the hall and their eyes locked. The Espada didn’t seem surprised Ichigo was confronting him. “Do you have a death wish?” His voice was disturbingly familiar, even after so many years.
 
Ichigo waiting to see if he would attack. Ulquiorra started towards him, hands in his pockets. Either he was confident in his own ability, he was underestimating him, or he just didn’t give a shit. He thought it might be some combination thereof.
 
Ulquiorra observed. “Curious. You look like a hollow, but you don’t appear to have any reiatsu.” He didn’t seem to recognize him, which was a good thing. It meant Aizen hadn’t been liberal in confiding his plans. He asked, “Why are you here?”
 
“Was the cero not a big enough message?” Ichigo clenched and unclenched his hands, fighting the urge to reach for Zangetsu. He wanted to fight, but that would likely lead to Ulquiorra’s death, and he could use him. “Aizen’s dead, what will you do now?”
 
“That isn't of consequence to you.”
 
Ichigo said, “It is. I'm actually surprised you're still here.” He taunted, “Taking orders from Barragan now?”
 
“I have no interest in cowards.”
 
That was a resounding no if he ever heard one. If he'd annoyed the arrancar, Ichigo couldn't tell, his expression had yet to change. He couldn't get a read on him, but he remembered so clearly how he’d reached for Inoue. He wasn’t as heartless as he appeared to be, nor was he entirely unpredictable.
 
Ulquiorra moved fast, his fingers pressed together like the blade of a sword, and he aimed right for the hollow of his throat. Thanks to Grimmjow, he knew to expect that. He caught his hand before he could even attempt to pierce his hierro. He squeezed, and he could feel the bones in his hand grinding together in protest.
 
Ulquiorra’s eyes widened in surprise and he pulled, instinctively trying to put distance between them.
 
Ichigo didn’t let him go, black and red reiatsu swirling around them both. Ulquiorra seemed to realize his mistake. He chided. “Disappointing. You’re usually more observant.”
 
Ichigo’s reiatsu fell, crushing, the cuatro arrancar confused how he'd overlooked so much power. Ichigo challenged him with a look filled with violence, yellow irises burning against a black canvas.
 
The pressure around them both was suffocating, as well as a beacon to any arrancar nearby. Ichigo couldn’t deny it was satisfying when Ulquiorra’s knees hit the ground.
 
He let go of Ulquiorra’s hand, keeping the pressure on him. It was difficult to hold back all the time, it would have been so easy to tear his arm off.
 
He watched Ulquiorra raise his own reiatsu, struggling against him to stand. “Don't make me kill you.” Ichigo pressed down harder, forcing him to his hands and knees.
 
There was no one here to protect, he didn't

need

to hold back. “I want you to fight for me.”
 
The Espada asked, “Why?”
 
“Because you’re strong, and I know one day you’ll understand what it means to have a heart. Killing you would be a waste.” He abruptly let up on his power, allowing him to stand. He didn’t intend to fight him, he only wanted to establish the balance of power.
 
Their fight hadn’t had a real conclusion back then, he’d always regretted it, but that didn’t need to happen this time. Even if Ulquiorra was a psycho, he would rather have him on his side.
 
He sensed both Yammy and Grimmjow converging on them both, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. He muttered, “What a pain.” If he wanted to have a halfway decent conversation, he couldn’t be running around and fighting a handful of arrancar and their Resurreccións. The downside to actually demonstrating his power was all the attention it gathered.
 
Ulquiorra watched him, once again impassive. “You would leave me alive, even if it meant I would wait for an opportunity to destroy you?”
 
Ichigo shot him a confident grin, a bit of Zangetsu’s madness leaking through. “You can try. Your Segunda Etapa is strong, but if you turn it against me,

I’ll crush it

.”
 
Ulquiorra’s eyes widened in surprise, trying to determine how he’d learned of his second form. Let him wonder.
 
He shifted to leave, taking his eyes off Ulquiorra, but not his attention. “Aizen’s world didn’t have a place for you. He saw you as lesser, inferior.”
 
“Then how do you see us?”
 
Ichigo laughed grimly, it was an easy question. “You say that like shinigami and arrancar are so different. We’re all monsters, and we’re not special. Maybe we go down kicking and screaming, maybe we die like a dog, but death takes us all. I can’t give you a purpose, I can’t explain what you feel you lack, Ulquiorra,” he glanced back, “but I can give you space and time to find it.”
 
The shinigami knew about them, Soul Society might deem them unworthy to exist, too dangerous. It was a little pathetic, but he didn’t want to let that happen. Like Shinji and the Visoreds, they were too similar to him to simply turn a blind eye. They were fucked up, but at their core they had all been human once, they deserved a chance.
 
Maybe by coming here and picking and choosing who deserved to live, he was playing God. Maybe he was no better than Aizen after all.

I’m such a hypocrite.

“Your goal is to protect, is it not, Ichigo? Do not dwell on regrets.”

That’s right...

move forward, never stand still.
 
He said, “Think about it, Ulquiorra. Stay out of my way, or stand with me. Your choice.”
 
He didn’t stick around to hear his answer, he would know it soon enough.
 
He disappeared, running straight towards Grimmjow. He was far faster than Yammy, there was no way he’d be able to deal with the giant without Grimmjow intervening. The Espada was weaker than Ulquiorra, but he had a lot of potential. He was so similar to himself it was disconcerting. The hothead use to be more ruthless than him, more eager to fight, but things had changed.
 
He met Grimmjow halfway, a single step putting him face to face with the sexta Espada. For a second, time seemed to slow. Grimmjow wasn’t prepared to be on the defensive at all, teal eyes widening in genuine shock when he found Ichigo in his path. He tried to stop and react, but he was too slow.
 
He wrapped a clawed hand around his neck, Grimmjow’s momentum giving the Espada a serious case of whiplash. He kept moving forward, pushing him back and through the wall. It exploded outward, as did every wall and column after that. He held tight, Grimmjow’s hand snapping to his wrist on reflex. He saw him reach with his other hand for his sword, but he clamped down on Grimmjow’s hand and the hilt, forcing him to keep it sheathed.
 
Ichigo kicked off the ground in a burst of sonido and shunpo, using Grimmjow’s back as a ram to batter through every wall between them and the outside. Ichigo didn’t give him time to do anything but hang tight for the ride, but they were just walls, and Grimmjow wasn't weak. If anything, he was just making the Espada angrier.
 
It was a few solid seconds between where they started in Las Noches and the outside, and it gave them both ample time to study each other. Ichigo found himself smiling at the fury he saw in Grimmjow’s eyes. Bastard hating losing, he could empathise.
 
Ichigo finally found himself in open air. He freed Grimmjow’s sword, throwing him by his neck. Grimmjow caught himself in the air and recovered quickly. He straightened, making a point not to reach for his neck. He was gasping and coughing, but his sword was already drawn and held at the ready. “Who the fuck do you think you are!? I’LL KILL YOU!”
 
“You can call me White.” He reached for his swords, having respect enough for Grimmjow to actually do so. He remembered his fights with Grimmjow so clearly. They were the kick in the teeth he needed to get stronger, he nearly owed Grimmjow a debt for that. If Grimmjow wanted a fight, he'd give him one.
 
He drew both the khyber blade and the trench knife, waiting for Grimmjow to make the first move. The Espada was uncharacteristically wary, but he chalked it up to the fact the Espada couldn’t sense him. He’d never really experienced that, he’d always been able to feel Aizen’s power. He almost wished he hadn’t.
 
Grimmjow demanded. “You’re dressed like a fuckin’ shinigami, what are you?”
 
He gave him a half answer. “Visored. You gonna keep talking, or are you gonna release your sword?”
 
Grimmjow launched towards him, ignoring the suggestion. They met in a quick exchange of blows, Ichigo’s grin widening, the ring of steel striking steel echoing off of the lonely walls of Las Noches.
 
He was content to let the fight escalate at Grimmjow’s pace so long as they weren’t interrupted. Fighting Grimmjow was like fighting Zangetsu, except he had all the unpredictability of a wildcat. He could feel his hollow’s excitement echoed within his own, holding back enough that they could enjoy this without it ending too soon.
 
He blocked a slash to his kidney with his short sword, Grimmjow’s face twisting in frustration. “That all you’ve got? Come on, show me your resurrección.”
 
He shouted back. “Show me your bankai!”
 
“That would be boring. You're better at hand to hand. Release Pantera.”
 
Grimmjow seemed surprised he knew the name of his sword, but his surprise melted into annoyance. “Are you mocking me?”
 
“Far from it, Grimmjow.” His eyes narrowed. “If you lose without giving it everything you’ve got, you’ll have nothing but regrets and excuses.”
 
He lifted his sword, resting his fingers on the blade near the hilt. “Who says I’ll lose?”
 
Ichigo smirked. “That’s the spirit.”
 
Grimmjow’s powers whipped around him in a torrent, the blade screaming blue. He tensed his hand into a claw, raking his fingers down the blade. “Grind, Pantera!”
 
The explosion of power was still just as impressive now as it had been the first time. His energy was erratic and wild, sand and dust blowing away to reveal Grimmjow’s resurreccion. He was lithe, catlike, and just as dangerous as he’d been hoping for.
 
He had a crazed grin on his face, already charging a cero in his outstretched hand.
 
Ichigo charged a Getsuga Tensho in response, black and red energy wrapping around Zangetsu. He couldn’t use both blades or even the name; he didn’t want to actually kill him.
 
Energy surged and grew in Grimmjow’s palm. “Now that Aizen’s dead, looks like I can use this all I want. Gran Rey Cero!” He fired his cero, and Ichigo met it with a nameless Getsuga. Black and red energy ripped through blue, overwhelming his attack with his own reiatsu. Their reiatsu reacted violently, exploding apart as his Getsuga burst through and bore down on Grimmjow. He felt him fire a low powered cero to protect himself, but it was nearly too late.
 
Their energy dissipated, the Espada’s chest and arms bloodied from his Getsuga, despite his defensive cero. Without it he might not have been standing. The look on Grimmjow’s face was murderous, frustrated he was losing.
 
Grimmjow didn’t wait around to lick his wounds, he kicked off the ground, bearing down on him with a speed that had once overwhelmed him. Now he matched him easily, dodging and blocking his spinning kicks and the swipes of his claws. Grimmjow had to know he couldn’t win, yet he came at him anyway. He liked that aspect of his personality, it reminded him of himself.
 
He couldn’t wipe the smirk off of his face, moving even faster. He stopped simply dodging and running, switching to the offensive. He spun Zangetsu by the bandages, whipping it around in wider arcs to attack. Grimmjow was forced on the defensive, his hierro barely good enough to keep the attacks that grazed him from cutting him apart.
 
Grimmjow couldn’t get too close, he wouldn’t let him, so he settled for firing those teal spikes from his arms. He deflected and cut down all of them with his trench knife, much to Grimmjow’s aggravation.
 
The arrancar was clearly running out of steam, so he fell back on his final attack. “Desgarrón!” Electric blue reishi gathered at the ends of his claws, streaking from his hands like swords. The extended claws slashed through the air, leaving no room to dodge. It was an impressive attack, it had almost done him in once, but no longer.
 
He yanked Zangetsu back to his hand by the cloth, catching it and raising it above him to stop Grimmjow’s claws. His reiatsu gathered around him in physical swirls of energy. Grimmjow might not be able to feel it, but he would be able to see it.
 
He shattered his attack with little effort, swinging the trench knife towards the fan of blades coming from the right. They were torn apart under a Getsuga, Grimmjow snarling in frustration as his last resort was swept away.
 
He threw another low powered Getsuga from the edge of the khyber sword. Grimmjow had time to block, but the energy still ripped through his guard and into his armor, drawing blood.
 
Ichigo didn’t give him time to recover, surging forward and kicking the Espada in the chest. He shot back into a tower, the reishi thick building cratering with the impact. Grimmjow grit his teeth, the wind knocked out of him. Ichigo crossed this distance too quickly for Grimmjow to track, pinning him with his swords crossed in an x across his neck. “I win.”
 
Grimmjow glowered, gripping the edge of his sword with a clawed hand. “What are you waiting for? Finish it!”
 
Ichigo leaned on his swords, the tips sinking into the building until the blades were flush to his throat. Grimmjow grew still, an instinctual fear dictating his actions. Fear wasn’t a bad thing, it only made you stronger. He leaned in. “No. I didn’t come here to kill you.

I’m king now

.”
 
He smiled, and it was a smile that promised violence. “If you have something to say about that, stop being a weak little bitch and get stronger.” He pulled away, straightening and sheathing his swords. “You're not half bad, for a kitty.”
 
Grimmjow snapped his teeth and swiped in an effort to disembowel him. “Bastard!”
 
Ichigo caught his arm before he could hit him or fall and smiled. “

That's the spirit

.”
 
“Fuck you!”
 
“Yeah, yeah. Don't die, this was fun, it would be nice to fight again.” The Espada was breathing hard and bleeding pretty badly, but he'd live. His armor chipped away, returning to his normal form as Ichigo held him up by the wrist.
 
He could sense Yammy, he was close, and he was able it to become an annoyance. “Hey, got that negacion caja thing?”
 
He snarled. “Fuck off!”
 
“Is that a yes?”
 
“That means FUCK OFF.” He tried prying Ichigo’s hand from his wrist, but failed miserably. “What do you want it for anyways?”
 
Ichigo wasn’t bothered by his attitude, he fully expected it. He didn’t want to crush his pride, only get his interest, and it seemed he’d succeeded if he still had the energy to shout like that. He answered breezily. “To send Yammy away for a bit.”
 
“What for?”
 
His answer was matter of fact, looking down at him. “I'm not done talking.”
 
Grimmjow scowled at him for a moment, then reached into his pocket and grudgingly handed him a small, black cube. He took it, turning it over in his fingers. “Thanks.” It was heavier than he expected; it felt dangerous. He’d give Aizen one thing, he was on Kisuke’s level when it came to making shit.
 
He let Grimmjow go, and by sheer force of will or stubbornness he landed on his feet, even if he stumbled.
 
Yammy burst through the wall, and he didn’t even let him speak before he was in front of him. “Yo.” He put the cube inside his hollow hole before Yammy could even finish swearing. Light streaked around the arrancar, fading to darkness wrapped in indigo, and he was yanked into another dimension. The energy crackled out of existence, and he and Grimmjow were once again alone.
 
He appeared back in front of Grimmjow, startling the arrancar. Ichigo pretended not to notice.
 
Grimmjow asked, “So now you crown yourself king, is that it?”
 
“I killed Aizen, isn't that how it works?” His answer was a bit sarcastic. His eyes narrowed, his tone more serious. “I only want two things; for arrancar to leave humans and shinigami the fuck alone, and to keep everyone else from meddling in Hueco Mundo.”
 
Grimmjow scowled at him. “Shinigami have been killing hollows for thousands of years, why the hell would things change now?”
 
“Because I won’t let them.”
 
Grimmjow looked irritated. “You can’t be serious.”
 
He didn’t acknowledge his denial. “I’ll admit, some of my reasons for coming here are personal; I wanted a good fight, revenge. The reasons you should give a shit about involve Soul Society. There’s a high chance they’ll come here to kill you. I don’t want that to happen.”
 
“Why the shit do you care what the shinigami do?”
 
“Because I’m one of them.” He shrugged, “Sort of.” Grimmjow’s eyes widened, trying to draw the connections, he was sure. “Told you, I’m a visored. I’m not so different from you.”
 
Grimmjow snarled, “You’re no arrancar.”
 
Ichigo grinned. “No, I’m not. Told you, I’m a visored.”
 
“Are you deliberately dense?”

“He really gets ya, doesn’t he?”

‘Shut it’

“Look, I intend to keep Soul Society out of your business. You leave the humans and shinigami alone, and I fight you as many times as you want, and you get to do whatever the hell it is you do when you’re not picking fights.”
 
Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets, making a decent show of pretending he wasn’t half dead. “And if I don't?”
 
“Don’t be stupid. I don't

want

to kill you, Grimmjow, but if you cross me, I will.” He wasn't bluffing, he hadn't completely forgotten the concept of mercy, but it was slipping farther and farther away each day.
 
The arrancar grit his teeth, hate simmering in his eyes. Ichigo regarded him, his own rage still simmering in his heart; he could empathize. “Just gets worse, doesn’t it?”
 
“What are you blathering about?”
 
He answered, “Losing.” Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed, and he was surprised he didn’t attack him again. “You want to win, right?”
 
Ichigo stepped close, getting into his personal space. It was a gentle threat, and a reminder he wasn’t scared of him. He could see Grimmjow tense, his instincts telling him to back down, but his stubbornness kept him firmly in place. He said, “Fight with me.” He didn’t phrase it like a request. “Aizen’s dead, Barragan’s next, and Soul Society is gunning for all of you. Can’t keep fighting if you’re dead.”
 
Grimmjow snarled, “Don’t get too comfortable. I’ll throw you down and crush you.”
 
Ichigo smirked. “But not today.” It was the closest thing to a yes he was going to get, and it amused him how similar the sentiment was to his own hollow. Grimmjow wanted to take him out? He’d have to get in line. At least for now he could count on him and his fraccion.
 
He left in a burst of sonido, seeking out Starrk. He honestly wasn’t sure how the arrancar would react to a forceful suggestion.
 
So far, things were going alright, and that made him anxious.

“If someone gets in our way, we’ll just kill them.”

We can’t solve all our problems with violence, stupid.

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t help.”

Zangetsu wasn’t really wrong, but his anxiety didn’t fade.
 
He was once again lost in the maze of Las Noches when he felt a surge of reiatsu from behind. He paused, focusing on it. It was turbulent and full of rage and loss. He recognized it, but he couldn’t put a name to it.
 
“

Tesra

,” Ossan supplied the name for him, but he still struggled to recall a face.
 
“Nnoitra’s fraccion.”
 
No regrets.
 
It seemed he had one more arrancar to kill, but he couldn’t allow Tesra the courtesy of dropping everything to face him. It felt callous, but what else could he do?
 
He wasn’t sure if this would affect Starrk’s decision or not, but he couldn’t help but think it might. With the differences in power, any fight he engaged in that he finished was essentially murder. Tesra would undoubtedly face him, and he would die.
 
It left a bad taste in his mouth, but there was no reasoning with grief. He would know.
 
He kept moving, focusing on finding Starrk while avoiding any reiatsu he didn’t feel like facing. He ran into a couple of lesser ranked arrancar, and they were dead before they hit the ground. He had his sights set on his goal, and he wasn’t leaving Hueco Mundo until it was met.

--- xxx ---
 
So Harribel and Ulquiorra don’t seem to be so casually violent as most other arrancar, but given Ichigo appears to be a threat, as well as the fact he appears to be powerless; I did what I could to make it feel legit.
 
Noticed Ichigo spent a lot of time in the manga disregarding his hollow powers, but clearly he had access to all of them, especially since we see Shinji casually fire a cero. Given this AU Ichigo spent a considerable amount of time in Hueco Mundo, and a considerable amount of time being broody and angry, he’d lean more heavily on them. I figure in my AU he’s going to have the same kind of tunnel vision, but for his quincy powers.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo found Starrk, but he was quickly wondering if it was even worth it. All the verbal abuse from Lilynette was giving him a headache, even if most of it was directed at Starrk. “Get uuuuup! This is the arrancar that killed Nnoitra, don’t you give a shit?!”
 
Ichigo interjected. “Oy, squirt, I’m not an Arrancar.”
 
Starrk didn't appear to give a shit, since he kept right on trying to sleep. He folded his arms over his face and groused, “Go away!”
 
She tried to pry him off the pillows, but to no avail. “GET UP!”
 
“Noisy brat.” He frowned over at Ichigo, looking at him for the first time. “Go away.”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes. This guy was even lazier than Shunsui. He had the feeling Starrk knew he wasn’t powerless, he just didn’t seem to care. “I’ll go away if you agree to fight for me.”
 
“Do I have to fight?”
 
Lilynette suddenly gave up and turned on Ichigo with a yell, sword drawn. Ichigo caught the curved blade, holding it up in the air, and consequently, Lilynette. She yanked on the sword, flailing around like a feral cat. “LET GO!”
 
“Relax, squirt.” She didn’t let go of the sword, he had to admit she was a determined little thing. “Soul Society might get it in their head to come around and kill you, so how about this: If you agree to be on my side, I’ll do the fighting for you.”
 
Starrk just looked at him, but at least he was paying attention. He tried and failed to shake Lilynette off, continuing. “You don’t care who’s in charge, right?” He scratched his head, a clawed finger tracing the edge of a horn, almost forgetting it was there. “We can fight over it if ya really want, but I’d rather not.”
 
Starrk looked to Lilynette and back, then draped his arms back over his face. He sighed. “Whatever. Do what you want, You can be in charge.”

“Well that was easy.”

No kidding.

He finally let the sword go and Lilynette fell on her ass with a squeak. It felt deserved after all her screeching. He didn't do too well with kids. “See ya around, Starrk.”
 
Lilynette jumped to her feet. “Where do you think you're going spikey?! We’re not done fighting!”
 
The look her shot her was deeply incredulous. “We’re not?”
 
He took a swift step forward, poking her in the forehead with the pad of his finger. “I win.” She swayed back on her feet, blinking owlishly.
 
Ichigo noticed how Starrk’s attention returned to him when he moved. He’d been ready to attack for keeps just then; he wasn’t some pushover. He knew the arrancar cared about her, and even if she was a part of his soul, he would never be able to hurt a kid, much less a young girl. “See ya, squirt.”
 
He left, and he found that the halls were suddenly crawling with arrancar. At least, when he was taking a mile a step there seemed to be many. If they happened to be in his path he struck them down, leaving them alive, but otherwise he just ran past them, and they were none the wiser.
 
He could sense stronger reiatsu nearby, but it wasn’t any he recognized. He assumed those were various arrancar fraccion. He didn’t see a reason to deal with them, it was their Espada leader he was interested in at the moment.
 
He went back to where he’d left Grimmjow to wait for Yammy to appear from wherever that black cube sent them. Unsurprisingly, Grimmjow was gone, and his reiatsu was suppressed enough that he couldn’t even feel it without concentrating. Smart move, to hide until he was recovered. He didn’t have high speed regeneration, so he was going to have a nasty scar unless he went to Szayel for help, and if Grimmjow did what he expected, he wouldn’t heal it, he’d keep it as a reminder of his loss. He couldn’t judge the Espada, every loss he’d ever suffered was burned into his own soul.
 
Orihime had healed all his wounds until there was no proof of his battles remaining. He didn’t have the heart to tell her to leave the scars, he knew she would have taken it personally. Then she was gone, and every failure after her death couldn’t be erased. He’d wanted the reminders for so long, once he finally had them, he couldn’t stand them.
 
He thought he knew what he wanted, but once he had it, he still wasn’t satisfied.
 
He sat on top of one of the tall cylinder like buildings that were sinking into the sand, waiting in comfortable silence. After all that running around, a nap sounded great, but he still had plenty of enemies here. So far, he hadn’t sensed Barragan move at all, so he could only assume the self proclaimed king thought he didn’t have to.
 
He mused, “Is it presumptuous to hope his abilities won’t work on me?”

“Aizen had to beat him somehow, right? He doesn’t feel all that strong.”

There’s still the possibility he’ll be able to hurt us.

“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious, Ichigo.”

“Our reiatsu is darker, more oppressive, we’ll just grind him into dust like everyone else.”

I guess we could just hit him with overkill and go into bankai.

“Sounds fun.”

“If superior reiatsu is not enough, we will retreat and attempt to earn the favor of the visoreds.”

Wouldn’t count on it, Ossan. You saw how they looked at me, I’m still a stranger; a dangerous stranger. They might get in contact with Kisuke to double check my story, but we have a lot of work to do before they trust me any further than they can throw me, which is ‘not at all.’

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Ichigo. Your confidence and strength inspires loyalty.”

Ichigo felt his thoughts drift towards Aizen, he couldn’t help comparing himself to the man, even after he was dead.

“You aren’t wrong, Ichigo, you share traits with Aizen. It’s perhaps the reason he allowed you to live for so long, but don’t dwell on them. You’re a protector, people flock to you not simply because you are strong. Aizen was a destroyer.”

“Am I not playing God just by being here?”

“Yer King, you got no delusions about your own mortality. In the end we’ll all rot, Barragan doesn’t seem to understand. Make him understand.”

He understood. They shared a heart, he knew he didn’t need to answer aloud. They both had their ways of trying to clear his conscience and doubts, and he had to admit, they weren’t doing a bad job.
 
The wind tugged his hair, resting his arm on his knee. He could stay in this form for days without consequences, he had plenty of reiryoku to spare, but it muddled his thoughts, and he didn’t like to stay this way. Zangetsu’s voice was loud, pervasive, his instincts were more than suggestions, they were near impulse.
 
He waited eagerly for the Arrancar to appear, his bloodlust in this form never truly sated. He appeared at ease, but he was more high strung than a stalking cat, he was just waiting for his prey to show itself. Cutting through Yammy’s hierro might actually take some effort, the bastard was tough. He was looking forward to having a punching bag.
 
He had to wait over an hour before the distortion in the air shimmered into existence. The tank of an Arrancar appeared, expression twisted in rage and annoyance. He scanned the area for Ichigo, his reiatsu spiking around him murderously.
 
Ichigo stood, flexing his hands and stepped forward, putting himself directly in front of him. The Arrancar was furious, and seeing what he assumed was a weak hollow before him, he lashed out without even bothering to see if he was an ally. Ichigo lifted his arm, stopping his punch with no effort at all. “Trash,” he hissed. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”
 
“What was that?!”
 
“I said, Ichigo moved again, his short sword suddenly at the giant’s throat, “you’re going to have to try harder.” Blood ran along the edge of the blade, clearly enough to cut into his hierro.
 
Almost before he could finish, the arrancar swat at him with an open palm like he was a fly. Maybe a few years ago, he’d have managed to hit him, but it was like watching someone swing a baseball bat; It was achingly slow and unskilled. The only thing he had going for him was endurance and raw strength. If he couldn’t even touch him, it was pointless.
 
He moved again, standing behind him. “Release your sword. Wouldn’t wanna kill ya on accident.”
 
Yammy lashed out, spinning drawing his sword with a shout. “Enrage, Ira!”
 
The giant’s reiatsu exploded in a flash of red, his power surging skyward. He revealed his giant form, obnoxiously huge. It was a good thing he’d never released his sword in the human world, it really would have been bad.
 
This level of power was better, but not good enough.
 
He backed up, but it wasn’t because he was scared, he wanted him to actually try to hit him with a cero.
 
“You’re just like the rest, you’re all ants!” Yammy opened his jaws, a bright red cero forming before it. He shot it straight at him, the beam tearing through the space and sending sand flying in all directions. Ichigo lifted his sword, deflecting the cero with a slash of his sword. It spiralled off into the desert, the beam taking out two crumbling buildings before crashing into the sand.
 
The beam dissipated, Yammy screaming obscenities at him. Let him rage, he wanted to see his final form. He lifted his trench knife, eyes narrowing. “Getsuga…” Power bloomed along the edge of the blade, whipping around him. Yammy wasn’t as stupid as he looked, he lifted his arms to guard.
 
He slashed downward, his energy ripping toward Yammy in a streak of black and red. “Tensho.”
 
The power hit Yammy square on, some of it just cascading off of his hierro like water, but his defense wasn’t strong enough to completely defend against it. The darkness of his reiatsu faded away, and Yammy was already readying another cero. He crossed the distance, drawing his other sword, and instead of deflecting, he hit his cero point blank with a two handed Getsuga.
 
It shattered his cero, his Getsuga lashing into his face and chest. Yammy howled in pain and anger, his face a bloody mess. He shouted, spraying blood. “Nothing can stand against my rage! I’M THE CERO ESPADA, NO ONE CAN DEFEAT ME! I’LL RIP OFF YOUR ARMS AND FEED THEM TO YOU!”
 
He easily dodged his punches, his voice thick with disdain. “Is this it? You’re boring me.” He ran circles around him, he was starting to get impatient.
 
A few punches later, and the Espada’s rage piqued, his form changing. His wounds healed, his form condensing into something more apelike. He lost all his legs, his tail thrashing behind in in rage.
 
Ichigo eyesc narrowed, annoyed. Better, but still not good enough. No one was good enough.

“Yer a decade in the past, King, of course they’re weak.”

Why is it so infuriating?

“You’ve always craved battle, King, don’t deny it. You love the challenge, the stakes; violence. Show this fucker what real power looks like!”

Zangetsu’s desires were his own. He didn’t bother fighting them, he shared them. He wanted to

fight

, and Yammy was disappointing.
 
He dodged another cero, not bothering to destroy it. He didn’t know how to analyze a power level and match it to cancel it out like Urahara. He wasn’t complicated, he just obliterated it with pure power.
 
He crossed his blades in front of one another, reiatsu rippling along the edge. “Getsuga Tensho.” He slashed with both blades, dark reiatsu cutting the sky. The arc of his attack sliced straight through the arrancar’s shoulder and chest. He’d ripped his hierro to shreds, he didn’t even compare to Aizen.

Ichigo stood in the air above him when he fell, not comprehending that he’d lost, to someone seemingly powerless. The arrancar was bleeding out, he’d lost an arm, and the damage to his chest was considerable. He was done.

He sheathed his swords, scowling down at him. Yammy’s resurreccion faded away, and he was looking down at the defeated Dies Espada. His blood stained the sand, his rageful expression relaxing in death.
 
Ichigo still wasn’t satisfied. He grit his teeth, sheathing his swords. The cloth wrapped around them, turning away from Yammy in disgust.
 
A familiar, quiet voice caught his attention. “You’re strong.” He turned, seeing Ulquiorra standing at the edge of the broken wall of Las Noches. He looked just as bored as usual, but he had the feeling he was tense. “Yammy was a brute, but he wasn’t weak. Are you not satisfied?”
 
His eyes narrowed. “No.” He leaned into his sonido, appearing beside Ulquiorra. To the arrancar’s credit, he didn’t flinch. “If I thought you would be a challenge, I might have pursued a fight with you too.” It wasn’t an insult, just fact.
 
He looked over, and saw the slight frown on Ulquiorra’s face. If it was because he was insulted, he couldn’t tell. The arrancar was such a nihilist, he couldn’t get a read on him. Ulquiorra said, “Why does this frustrate you?”
 
He wasn’t expecting the question. “I want to win...but I miss the challenge.” Ulquiorra just stared at him, and he couldn’t get a read on him. He continued, “What do you want, Ulquiorra?”
 
The arrancar said nothing, watching him for a long moment before he walked away, hands in his pockets. Why he came to watch, Ichigo didn’t understand; the arrancar was a puzzle.
 
He let him leave, so long as he wasn’t going to get in his way, he honestly didn’t care what he did. He didn’t understand why the arrancar followed Aizen to being with. Maybe it was simply because the shinigami was strong. He just didn’t know, nor was he sure he cared to.
 
He left, one thing left to tackle. The self-proclaimed king of Hueco Mundo; Barragan.
 
He couldn’t say he was nervous, just uncertain how difficult the fight would be. He moved with sonido, but he didn’t put his back into it, he took his time getting there.
 
He couldn’t imagine how angry the soutaichou was going to be when he figured out what he was doing. He hadn't been entirely forthcoming, he didn’t have much interest in working with Soul Society. He wasn’t their enemy, but he didn’t want them to meddle either. He didn’t have a problem with the captains, most of them anyways, he just didn't agree with how Soul Society ran things.
 
He was interrupted on his way to Barragan. He was searching for Espada level reiatsu, so he almost missed the energy that converged on him.
 
He stopped, facing the arrancar with a small frown. “Tesra.”
 
The blonde glared, trembling in rage. “I finally found you. It was you. You killed him. YOU!”
 
He didn't deny it, and he didn't apologize. Death always wrought strife, no matter how justified it felt. He'd liked to think he was prepared for this, but he never was. The tears that streaked Tesra’s face only reminded him of his own pain.
 
Tesra drew his sword, lunging for him in a sloppy strike. Ichigo stepped to the side, lazily dodging. This was just pathetic.
 
Tesra shouted, “Draw your sword! Am I not good enough for you!?”
 
He dodged another couple of strikes, doing his best not to engage. He had no idea why Tesra cared, or what bond he'd had with the Espada, but he wouldn't invalidate his feelings. His sorrow was real, and he didn't know how to confront it.
 
Tesra grew annoyed when he wouldn’t retaliate, seeming to understand that if he’d killed Nnoitra with such ease, he didn’t stand a chance. This was suicide, plain and simple.
 
His attacks grew more and more frenzied, and even though he had only seen the arrancar briefly in the past, the shift in personality was enough to unnerve him.
 
Tesra fell to his knees, hands tight around his sword. He hadn’t released it, so maybe he knew how pointless it was to fight. His hands and his voice shook. “Will you not even grant me this?

“Look at him, he hates ya, he wants this.”

“Leaving him alive would be unwise.”

Three to one then, even Tesra wanted to die.
 
He didn’t like this, it felt wrong, like putting someone down. He drew the trench knife, reluctant.
 
Tesra tensed like he was going to move again, but before he could, Ichigo thrust the sword forward, straight into his chest. Tesra grit his teeth then coughed up blood, leaning onto the sword. He gripped the blade, muttering to himself. “He wasn’t supposed to die first.”
 
Tesra went limp, and Ichigo drew his sword back and out of his chest. The arrancar hit the ground with a wet sound, his reiatsu fluttering with his heart. This was the part he hated the most. Was this mercy, or was he just being arrogant?
 
He sheathed his sword and left him to bleed out, continuing toward Barragan. He was in a strange mood, feeling rather apathetic. Should he be upset? He thought he should. He hadn’t wanted to kill Tesra, but it wasn’t because he actually cared about the arrancar, it was because he knew he probably should feel something.
 
He came to a large, high ceilinged room, a simple stone throne carved out of the far wall. On that throne sat Barragan, wrinkled face set in confidence and arrogance. “So you finally showed up.”
 
His zanpakuto was already released, the axe leaning against the throne. Clearly he was anticipating a fight, no matter how arrogant he was, he at least realized he couldn’t attempt to fight with an unreleased sword.
 
There were more than a few of low level arrancar in the room, but none looked ready to interfere, so Ichigo ignored them.
 
He drawled. “That's an annoying expression. It reminds me of

him

.” He leaned back in the throne. “I suppose I should be thanking you for getting rid of him.
 
“But you won't.” Ichigo drew his swords, resting the khyber sword on his shoulder.
 
“Do you presume to order the king of Las Noches as well, gaki?”
 
“No…” Ichigo looked around the room at the weaker arrancar gathered there, fixing them with a cold look. “Run, if you don’t wanna die.” His attention turned back to Barragan. “I'm going to kill you.”
 
Barragan threw his head back and laughed, mocking and long. “A powerless child thinks he can destroy me?”
 
Ichigo said nothing, and if the laughter bothered him, it didn't show. He moved both swords, raising both side by side before him.
 
Reiatsu gathered around him and Zangetsu, and even if he couldn't feel it, he knew he'd see it. A handful of arrancar seemed to understand this wasn’t a good place to be. The smart ones ran, but those that were fearful of Barragan remained.
 
“Bankai.”
 
Light exploded around him, and when it cleared, his swords were one, the innermost part of the blade black, the outer part of the blade pure white. A chain ran from the hilt to the middle of the sword, the sword quite a bit larger than his shikai. “Tensa Zangetsu.”
 
Barragan stood, lifting his axe before him. “Rot, Arrogante.” Ichigo held Tensa Zangetsu before him, watching as the arrancar turned to bones, the skeleton wrapping bony fingers around a black, massive battle axe. Its jaw dropped in a laugh, taking a step forward.
 
“Respira.” The miasma crawled across the ground towards him, and Ichigo let his power climb, holding his position. The arrancar in the room that were holding out suddenly turned to run, realizing how stupid it would be to remain.

You sure about this?

“Think I’d let your dumbass fight if this was the end? He’s just another living thing, scared to die.”

The miasma reached his sword, he felt it whisper over the surface, but nothing happened. His grip tensed as it crawled up to reach his hands, and as it passed over his skin, he realized he was fine.
 
“Impossible...”
 
That’s right… “You’re just an arrancar, you’re no God. In the end, all you have is reiatsu.” He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, yellow eyes blazing with determination.
 
The skeleton king screamed, “ROT!” He lurched forward, hefting his axe and slicing down. “Why won’t you die!”
 
Ichigo blocked an attack meant to decapitate him, feet sliding back an inch before he held firm. “Because you’re weaker.” He pushed against his weapon, then completed his strike down with a snarl. “Getsuga Tensho.” Black and blue energy flooded the room, disintegrating the throne and the back wall. His reiatsu cut the air, sharp and brutal. It spiralled out of existence, the skeleton king half destroyed. His skull was crumbling, jaws spread in a furious scream.
 
“NOTHING CAN STOP TIME!”
 
Ichigo chuckled, finding dark amusement in that statement. “I already have. Nothing stands between me and what I want.” He’d defied logic and turned back time, courtesy of the Hogyoku, but he’d still managed it. He’d killed a man who thought himself a God. One arrogant king wasn’t going to stop him now.
 
He snapped his hand out, gripping the crumbling skull, and slammed him down to the ground, shattering it beneath his palm. His eyes widened, catching a bony arm before his axe could touch him. He charged a cero between his horns. “I’m king now.” He shot his cero, dark red reiatsu rippling out in a wave to crush the arrancar beneath him and the surrounding walls.
 
He straightened, orange hair whipping around him as his reiatsu returned to him. There was nothing left of the arrancar but pieces of his crown and dust, dust that was already blowing away in the sands of Hueco Mundo.
 
He looked up at the gaping hole his attack had made in the wall. It had kept going, shattering the far edge of the dome of Las Noches. For some reason, this seemed ideal. The false sun only reminded him of Aizen. Hueco Mundo was a place of darkness and silence, the faux sky was unsettling, fake.
 
The scattered stone that had already begin to sink under the sand was the only remaining evidence of the throne. A throne Aizen had desired, that Barragan had assumed. His grip on his sword tightened, chain clinking when he turned to face Las Noches. He let his energy flare, lowering it to what the arrancar could feel. He spread his energy throughout as a beacon. Arrancar were drawn to power, and he had plenty of it. His reiatsu washed over every living thing in Las Noches, commanding and oppressive, but without violence.
 
He’d killed all he needed to, he had no more desire to kill that day. He turned Tensa Zangetsu over, stabbing it into the ground. He could call his sword to his hand when he wanted it, it was of no consequence to let it go. He and Zangetsu were one in the same; he was no more separated from his sword than he was from his own mind.
 
He sensed the reiatsu of the Espada he’d left alive converging. Out of curiosity or fear or otherwise, he couldn’t say. They were all so different, and he knew who they had once been, not who they actually were.
 
His eyes flicked over to Harribel, then her fraccion. Ulquiorra showed up, even if he hung back, casually scanning the damage he’d caused. Grimmjow was there, looking a little worse for wear, but he had his fraccion at his back. Starrk and Lilynette were next, followed by hundreds of arrancar whose numbers he’d probably never know. They were scattered on and around the rubble and exposed levels of the floors above them.
 
He sensed Zommari and his fraccion, but no Nel. He even sensed Szayel, but now wasn’t the time nor the place. He waited until any who cared to listen were there. He’d spoken to battle-weary shinigami, his friends and his enemies, but it was a first to be standing before a group as a king.
 
Zangetsu reminded him.

“No weakness.”

He stepped forward and called, “Hueco Mundo is mine! Challenge me if you think you can take it.” No one stepped forward. That was unsurprising.
 
“

I’m King.”

He stepped forward to the center of the group with sonido, several arrancar flinching back. He saw the instinct to run flash in their eyes, and he could tell the only thing that kept them rooted in place was the instinct that running before a stronger predator was a death sentence..
 
He lifted his hand, Tensa Zangetsu spiralling through the air to his palm. It nearly grazed one arrancar, but he’d been careful no one was in its path when he called it. “Aizen asked you to change your nature when he took control. He kept you like whipped dogs. Barragan kept you like hounded strays.” He hissed, “

Are you dogs?

” He turned a full circle, meeting the eyes of any arrancar with balls enough to do it. They all looked away, even Grimmjow.
 
He was angry, for their sakes and his own. Soul Society had used him much the same way. They had played their part in what he was, and they washed their hands of any responsibility. “You can go back to fighting to be top dog, scavenging in the desert, waiting for the day a shinigami comes around to put you down. I won’t fucking stop you.” He paused, waiting to see if anyone wanted to leave. No one did.
 
“Or you can stay with me, you can be

wolves

. Aizen made you ‘perfect’ arrancar, but he failed to see your potential. I can make you stronger.” He looked around the gathered arrancar, and saw mostly eagerness. He asked, “Any objections?” The arrancar that were brave enough to take their eyes off him looked around, but no one spoke up, and he’d never met a shy arrancar.
 
A terrified female arrancar near the back spoke up, but there was something like adoration in her voice. “What-what do we call you?”
 
“White.”
 
She murmured, “White-heika.”
 She was far off, but he still heard it. He hoisted Zangetsu to his shoulder, chain clinking. “Can’t stand honorifics. Just White.” The arrancar tensed like he might kill her, and he did her the courtesy of completely ignoring her.  
He continued, “I only have two rules. First: Leave the humans alone. That means to stay out of the human world. Second: Leave the shinigami alone unless they engage with you first.”
 
Grimmjow shouted, “You telling us to run away?”
 
Ichigo turned to face him, unamused. “If you go after a lion cub, what happens Grimmjow? You bring the whole pride down on your head.” Grimmjow ground his teeth, annoyed, but he bit his tongue.
 
Ichigo addressed all of them after that, his eyes lingering on those he knew were hotheaded and impulsive. “I don’t intend to start a war with the shinigami if I can’t help it.”
 
Harribel’s voice was low, but still cut through the anxious murmurs of the arrancar. “Then you’ve considered it?”
 
“It may be unavoidable. My goal isn’t to watch you all be cut down, my goal is for Hueco Mundo to be left the fuck alone.”
 
Grimmjow spoke up again, angry. “So you want

peace

?! Whose side are you on?”
 
Ichigo wasn’t swayed, he didn’t need to smother dissent like Aizen had. Better to have misgivings dealt with in the open than letting them fester in the dark. “Do you think if I wasn’t on your side I would be here at all. It would be far easier to just kill you all and be done with it, but I’m some sort of fool and I want you all to live.”
 
“Why?”
 
He didn’t know who asked the question, but it didn’t matter. “Because I’m one of you. If you deserve to die, so do I.” He didn’t want to linger on his reasons, some of them hadn’t even happened in this timeline yet.
 
He tapped a clawed finger on the hilt of his sword, still balancing it on his shoulder. He drawled, “A king needs a queen.” He wasn't being serious about her being

his

queen, but he was serious about giving her control. “Harribel.”
 
He looked up at her, several hundred pairs of eyes settling on her. She didn’t seem phased, her reiatsu spiking around her as a not so gentle reminder she wasn’t to be trifled with. Some weaker arrancar’s knees hit the ground, but none looked ready to challenge her. He found that impressive. No words at all, and yet no one stepped up to question her authority.
 
Was it wise to build up his own army in Hueco Mundo? Probably not, but he could shield them from Soul Society for as long as he could. He'd always led with his heart, not his head.
 
He waved a hand in casual dismissal and turned his back. “Now scram, that’s all I had to say.” There was no real threat in his words, just a boredom they all knew could very easily shift into the homicidal range. Most were eager to leave, and it was agonizing to let Szayel just walk away, but it still wasn't the right time.
 
He wanted to hold Grimmjow back, but in front of the others it would just look like he intended to punish him, so he would have to put that conversation on hold. He met Harribel’s eyes and she stayed behind, waiting until they were alone. Her fraccion hung back, watching Ichigo nervously as Harribel crossed the distance to them.
 
He let his bankai go, sheathing both swords, and she asked, “What are you, White?” He sensed genuine curiosity in her voice. In this form, he had the black shihakusho, but it was a bit different. It wasn’t solid black, it was streaked with white.
 
He asked her before if it mattered, and if she was asking again, clearly it did. He answered, “I’m a mutt. If I trusted you, maybe I would tell you.” He wasn’t willing to tell any of these arrancar he still had a human body. It was a huge weakness, and one he couldn’t afford.
 
“Where do you intend to go?”
 
He looked at her, wondering how she could know he didn’t intend to stay. He hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious about it, but Harribel was sharp. “The human world.” He looked at her and smirked. “Hypocrite, I know. I’m going to try to keep Soul Society from sticking their noses in our business. It would help immensely if you kept the rest of the arrancar on their best behavior.
 
She studied him, then asked, “Why are you so intent on making us stronger? You appear to be in a hurry.”
 
“Too sharp for your own good, Harribel. Or maybe I’m too transparent.” He shrugged off the thought. “Don’t worry about it too much. Focus instead on the problems right under our noses. I might have killed Aizen, and he might have mucked up Soul Society, but the arrancar will be seen as a threat to be rid of. I’m strong, but there’s just one of me.”
 
“Then it appears you do not have the luxury of failure.” She turned to leave, and paused. “Do not remain away for long.” It was a warning, and one that he thought he already had a firm understanding of.
 
He only nodded, stepping into a garganta. “Yeah, yeah.”
 
He didn’t dare open a garganta directly to Karakura. He chose a city at random, then went from there to another, then to Karakura, making damn certain he was alone.
 
It was night in Karakura, but he had no idea what day it was. Time did funny things when you crossed between worlds, he just knew he was tired. He went to Urahara’s shop, and despite the hour, the ex captain was waiting for him outside.
 
Kisuke gave him a once over and a grim smile. “Kurosaki-san, you’ve been busy, haven’t you?”
 
He couldn’t deny it, and he knew lying to the man was futile.
 
Kisuke gestured at Ichigo vaguely and said, “Before you come in, maybe you do something about

that

. Rukia-san is still here, she might be a bit startled.”
 
He blinked, then looked down, nearly having forgotten. “Oh yeah.” He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. He felt his hollow power sink back into the depths of his soul, and when he opened his eyes again, they were decidedly human.
 
“Better.” Kisuke turned, and Ichigo followed, less hungry than he expected. Maybe it was because of the reishi thick environment of Hueco Mundo, or simply his anxiety keeping it at bay.
 
He asked, “How long was I gone?”
 
Kisuke led him back to the sitting room. “About three days.” He pushed open the screen, and Ichigo paused when his eyes fell on Rukia. There were dark circles under her eyes, she looked tired, but compared to how she’d looked when she’d been certain she was about to die, she looked amazing. “Ichigo...”
 
Kisuke suddenly disappeared, leaving them alone. Ichigo stopped hovering in the doorway, then sat down across from her cross legged. He resisted the urge to worry his lip, then bent in half, his forehead nearly touching the table. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
 
Having something ripped out of her soul couldn’t have been pleasant, and he felt somewhat responsible for it.
 
Her brows furrowed, annoyance slipping into her tone. “Ichigo, don’t apologize for that. You don’t mean it.”
 
“I do.” He straightened, watching her. “Just because I don’t have regrets doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry it had to happen.” He looked at the wall, trying to sense if anyone else was there.
 
She answered his unspoken question. “Nii-sama returned to Soul Society with the Hogyoku, Renji is staying in the other room. He’s not guarding me, he just insisted.”
 
“Ah, I see.” He stared back at her, sensing that wall between them. He was different and she could sense it; it made things unnecessarily awkward.
 
Rukia blurted, “Why did you go to Hueco Mundo?”
 
“Soul Society knows then?”
 
She slammed her hand down on the table, raising her voice. “Of course they do!”
 
He sighed, leaning forward on his knees. “I took Aizen’s army from him, and I made myself king.”
 
Her eyes widened. “Be serious, Ichigo.”
 
“I am.”
 
She seemed to be in denial, searching him for some sign this was a joke. “W-why?”
 
“Lots of reasons.” Telling her she wouldn’t understand felt too cliche, and he wasn’t sure he could articulate them anyways.
 
“Soul Society thinks you’ve-” She couldn’t bring herself to finish that statement.
 
“It’ll be okay, Rukia.”
 
“How?! You’re not even a hollow, how is what you’re doing even reasonable?”
 
“

Rukia

.” She was starting to get hysterical, and if that happened, the conversation would be over. He pulled on his soul, feeling Zangetsu’s power rise up to meet him. He became solid, he could sense his presence standing behind him. Before Rukia could panic, he explained, “This is Zangetsu, my inner hollow, and the source of my shinigami power.”
 
“Yo.”
 
Her eyes were wide, looking between Zangetsu and Ichigo. “But how...did I-”
 
“I was born like this, it’s not anyone’s fault.” He shrugged, “He’s not half bad anyways.”
 
Zangetsu folded his arms and scoffed,
“

You’re

not half bad.”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes, waving his hand and cutting off his reiatsu. Zangetsu disappeared back inside his soul, leaving Rukia struggling to keep up. She said, “Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you’re about to be in?”
 
“Yep. I have a damn good idea.” His tone was light but he wasn’t fooled, he knew how bad things could get. He let out a tired sigh. “Rukia, it was a hell of a lot of trouble saving you, but I did it anyway. Sometimes I do things and it doesn’t make sense, but I always have a reason.”
 
She asked, “Will you share those reasons?”
 
“Maybe.” He got up with a yawn. “Look, twerp, let’s talk tomorrow. We’re both tired.” He was brushing her off, but for a genuine reason. He was beat, he needed to rest, and he needed to get back in his real body.
 
She got up and moved to the hall, pausing to wait for Ichigo to join her. “Sleep well.”
 
He frowned at her, wondering if that was a reference to his nightmares. He was too tired to keep thinking about it, shaking it off. “Night, tiny.” He caught a small grin on her lips as she passed by him.
 
He went to his own room, manifesting Zangetsu almost immediately. He was tired, but on edge, especially after all of

that

. He laid there on the ground, staring at the ceiling. Zangetsu sat against the wall in the corner, his eyes on the door and the room, ready to protect him at a moment’s notice. It was going to be a long night.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

He slept terribly, which was no shock, and once he finally did make it to sleep, time passed in a blur of half remembered nightmares. He woke with a jolt when Zangetsu touched him.
“Yer friends are here. Thought you'd want to wake up
.” Seemed Zangetsu had anticipated some form of violence from the way he was gripping his wrists. He couldn't be sure if he'd done anything, but if he had, he knew Zangetsu could handle it and likely had handled it.
 
Zangetsu could just as easily wake him without touching him, but he had a feeling the hollow did it on purpose to test his reflexes. He could tell him to cut it out, but he wasn't sure if Zangetsu didn't have the right idea to begin with.
 
He let him go, sitting back while Ichigo stretched. “Thanks.” Zangetsu disappeared back into the depths of his soul as he got up. He needed to spend time in his body again, so he left his room, found it, and noticed a few Kidou laced bracelets on the wrist of his body.
 
Tessai caught him studying them and explained their purpose. One was to help suppress his power, one was to help contain his soul, and the third was to help him ease back into his body without killing himself. His soul was massive compared to what it had been at this point in his timeline, if he wanted to be able to keep hopping in and out of his body, he'd need to take it slow.
 
He returned to his body, flexing stiff muscles. He played with the braided bracelets with a frown. One was pink, one was seafoam green, and the other was pastel purple. They were girly, and he had no doubt it was Kisuke’s doing.
 
Kisuke appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “How's it feel?”
 
“Suffocating, uncomfortable.” He got up, stretching some more with a wince.
 
“But not painful?”
 
He flexed his hand, considering that. “No.”
 
Kisuke smiled. “Then it's working.” He explained, “You might start to notice rapid aging as your body changes to accommodate your soul. That's normal for a boy your age.”
 
He made a face. “Gross, did you really have to word it like that?” He held up his arm to show the bracelets. “And did you have to make them fuckin’ friendship bracelets?”
 
Kisuke hid a smirk behind his fan. “Self conscious, Ichigo? Your sisters will be so jealous.”
 
“Yeah, yeah.” He scowled, but didn’t take them off. It was a thank you if he’d ever given one, and he knew the captain was aware of it.
 
Kisuke gave Tessai a look, the shinigami leaving the two alone. The ex-captain reluctantly changed the subject. “Did you sense another Hogyoku while you were away?”
 
“

Uh oh.”

“...No. Why?”
 
Kisuke frowned. “It’s come to my attention that Soul Society didn’t find another Hogyoku on Aizen’s person or in his lab. They don't seem to be aware there are two. You didn't tell them?”
 
“I didn't.” Kisuke didn't press as to why he would have done that, and for that he was grateful. He had no doubt Kisuke was monitoring Mayuri’s every move, so when he said they hadn't found anything, he believed him. “You think Aizen might have hidden it in Hueco Mundo?”
 
“He had no reason to believe anyone could stop him, it would have been the safest place for it.”
 
“Where do you think he hid it?”
 
Kisuke frowned. “I can't say.” His tone was light, but there was still gravity in his words. “Do keep an eye out for it, Kurosaki-san.”
 
Ichigo was just as concerned about this as Kisuke. He thought for sure they would have found it on his body or at the very least in his lab. His thoughts drifted to Szayel, wondering if it was his bias or simply paranoia that drew him to mind.
 
Kisuke seemed to read his mind, asking, “You have someone in mind?”
 
“It’s creepy when you do that.” He was very, very glad Kisuke was on his side. Or at the very least, not working against him. He wasn’t an idiot, but compared to Kisuke, he might as well be.
 
He answered reluctantly, not because he didn’t want him to know, but for selfish reasons. “An arrancar. He’s a sick sonuvabitch, but he’s smart.”
 
Kisuke was perceptive, he caught the hatred in his voice, as well as his use of present tense. “You didn’t kill him?”
 
“I haven’t decided what I want to do with him yet.”
 
Zangetsu’s voice in his head was uncharacteristically soft, but woven with hatred and malice.

“I thought we were going to slowly torture him to death? We could hack off all those goddamned tentacles, his limbs, string his guts out, bleed him dry. Then we let the fuck resurrect himself, and we do it all again.”

“Stop.” His hands were clenched into fists, realizing he’d spoken aloud. It wasn’t that he was opposed, he was far too invested.
 
“That’s a scary look, Kurosaki-san.” Kisuke watched him warily, thoughtfully.
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed, not particularly fond of being studied so intently. Zangetsu didn’t stop, probably because he could feel Ichigo’s interest as clear as his own.

“You remember what he did, we still have to pay it back in full. That fucker didn’t suffer enough an’ you know it, King.”

He did remember, even if it was hazy. He remembered hate and pain and fear and rage-He closed his eyes and hissed, “

Stop

.”

“I’m angry, King, and I know you’re angry too.”

It’s not the time nor the place.

“Coulda called on the old man to push me back, but you didn’t. It’s cause you like it, you like the rage, so why do you deny it? Can’t lie to me, King.”

He opened his eyes with a small frown, letting Zangetsu have the last word. He was right, he

was

angry. It seemed too small a word to describe the clawing feeling in his chest and throat. He looked up at Kisuke again, who hadn’t moved at all. He had no idea how long he’d been standing there trying to collect himself, but the ex-captain only watched knowingly. He felt the need to explain himself. “Hollow.”
 
Kisuke already knew that much, but from the look in his eyes, the shinigami was trying to connect the dots. He didn’t like losing control, so he decided to tell him before he guessed, because at least then it was on his own terms. “Szayelaporro Granz. He’s Mayuri’s wet dream; He’s weak, but smart, and stark raving mad. I got caught, and he had me for long enough. I killed him, but now he’s alive. .”
 
“Careful, Kurosaki.” Kisuke’s eyes narrowed. “Vengeance can be an all consuming thing. Don’t tear up wounds that haven’t even begun to heal.”
 
Ichigo’s lips curled in a snarl. “

But it felt so good

.”
 
“And how do you feel

now

?” Kisuke’s voice was gentle, but firm.

Empty

.
 
“Kurosaki-san, do what’s best for

you

.”
 
Those words struck a chord in his chest. He looked back at him, realizing something. “You blame yourself for me, don’t you?”
 
Kisuke pulled his hat down, and said nothing. Kisuke had awakened his power, his hollow, and he’d sent his friend’s son into Soul Society to do what he couldn’t, involving him in a war he had no business being a part of. But Ichigo didn’t blame him, he couldn’t.
 
Ichigo said, “Most of the things I remember never happened here, but you’re too smart for your own good. You see the end result and you fill in the blanks, don’t you?” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. It was short in his body, he wasn’t use to it yet.
 
His voice was quiet, not entirely comfortable baring his feelings, but Kisuke was hurting himself for what Ichigo deemed to be no reason. “I’ve always wanted power, Kisuke, and you helped me get it. You taught me more than I think you realize, and I owe you everything. You didn’t involve me, Aizen did. Please don’t blame yourself for this.”
 
“You should know how difficult that is, Kurosaki-san.”
 
“It had to be said.” The silence he felt from Zangetsu was enough to prove Kisuke’s words had reached him too. Some things were clear to him, but others were muddled and uncertain.
 
He started past him into the hall, pausing. “Thanks, Kisuke.” The shinigami hung back, and he saw a cat out of the corner of his eye pad over to his feet.
 
He went to the front of the shop, sensing Renji some distance away, and concluded he’d only leave Rukia if it was on orders. He heard Rukia and Orihime chatting before he saw them. Chad was waiting nearby in silence, and even if he said nothing, even if he couldn’t see his eyes past that mop of hair, he could tell he was worried. “Hey guys.”
 
Orihime turned, her face lighting up. “Ichigo! You were gone longer than we thought, I’m glad you’re okay. Everyone was so worried.”
 
It was still so jarring to see her so happy, so unaffected. He wanted her to stay that way. “Of course I’m fine. I’m always okay, aren’t I?”
 
“Ichigo.” Chad’s voice was deep, a bit monotone, but he couldn’t dismiss the worry he heard buried in it.
 
Ichigo looked at him a long moment, then looked to Rukia and Orihime. “We’ll be back in a bit.”
 
Orihime shifted, uncertain what to say. “Okay, Kurosaki-kun…”
 
He left, hands in his pockets, and Chad followed. They walked side by side for awhile, and when the silence stretched, he knew his friend was waiting for him to talk. He was always impressed by how demanding he could be without saying anything at all.
 
He walked until they were at the riverbank, a place both of them were familiar with, but also a place he knew even his friend was beginning to feel estranged from. “It’s hard, y’know? You’re exactly who I remember you to be, but

I’m

different, it changes things, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
 
“Ichigo...you don’t have to fix anything.”
 
Ichigo walked to the riverbank, bending down to pick up a smooth stone. He turned it over in his fingers. “It’s lonelier than I thought it would be.” He skipped the rock, and three skips in it tumbled beneath the surface. “I missed you all so much, now that I have you back, it feels like there’s a wall between us. I’m going through the motions, but you feel like ghosts.”
 
He felt Chad reach for him, and he tensed. His friend didn’t touch him, dropping his hand. Ichigo wasn’t sure whether he was disappointed or relieved. Chad said, “I don’t understand, Ichigo, but you can help me understand.”
 
Ichigo wasn’t sure if he wanted him to, it wasn’t his burden to bare.

“Talk to him, Ichigo. If you respect your friend, respect his desire to help.”

Ossan had a point, and one he might not have heeded a few days ago. “I think it’s my fault you were killed.” He’d never spoken his regrets aloud, it felt wrong, like he was admitting they were real. “I tried to protect you. I was so afraid of losing you, I didn’t let you grow on your own, I didn’t let you fight when you should have. You faced someone stronger, and I wasn’t there. The bastard didn’t just kill you,

he tortured you

. He crushed the bones in your arms and hands, he took from you everything you had pride in.” He grit his teeth, lifting a shaking hand to his face. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, letting out a trembling breath.
 
Chad placed himself in front of him, not letting him look away. Ichigo swallowed, his throat tight, and Chad’s voice was softer than usual, forcing Ichigo to listen. “Ichigo...if I fell fighting with you, then I died without regrets. Don’t blame yourself for something you didn’t do.” He lifted his hand, tightening it into a fist. “If it’s my weakness that scares you, help me get stronger. I want to fight with you.”
 
Ichigo didn’t understand. He was happy to have his loyalty, but he didn’t understand

why

. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”
 
Chad lowered his fist, but the determination in his eyes hadn’t faded. “You’re a good man. Do I need another reason?”
 
Chad really believed that, and it was enough he thought he might be able to believe it to. He promised. “I’ll make you stronger. I’ve never met anyone in my life more deserving of power.” He held up his hand, and Chad took it, his grip unyielding.
 
He couldn’t help but smile. Chad wasn’t so different, he still foolishly threw his entire soul into helping him. Ichigo wouldn’t let that loyalty go to waste.
 
He let go, his gratitude present in his smile. “As soon as I can swing it, you’re coming with me to Hueco Mundo.”
 
“Hueco Mundo?”
 
“It’s the home of the hollows. It’s important, it’ll help you understand what you are.” He saw the questions written on Chad’s face, but the giant of a man trusted him, and he didn’t ask. “Promise me this, Chad. If I’m ever about to do something stupid, beat some sense into me.”
 
Chad smiled. “It’s a promise, Ichigo.”
 
He let the conversation lapse into comfortable silence, simply enjoying his company. He skipped some rocks and enjoyed the sunshine, something he didn’t often get to do.
 
It had been a little over an hour by the time they got back, just in time for an argument, it seemed. Kisuke’s shop was loud, what with Rukia and Renji shouting with each other with Orihime stuck in the middle. All that stopped when Renji saw Ichigo. “You! Are you some kind of idiot?!”
 
“Nice to see you too Renji.” Ichigo kicked off his shoes and stepped in, not at all bothered by Renji’s attitude.
 
“Why the fuck did you go to Hueco Mundo without permission?! You have any idea what kind of shit you stirred up?”
 
Ah, that explained the arguing. Ichigo raised a brow, playing dumb. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
 
“They’re sending captains out to question you, you could be tried for treason!” Now everyone was quiet, even Yoruichi was watching in her cat form from Kisuke’s shoulder. Great, an audience. Just what he wanted.
 
“Stop shouting, Renji, I’m right here.” He put his hands in his pockets, his blasé attitude clearly only antagonizing the fukutaicho. He might have doubts about some of the decisions he was about to make, but claiming Hueco Mundo wasn’t one of them.
 
“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?! Rukia stuck her neck out for you twice, don’t you care?”
 
Ichigo struck him with a look that shut the shinigami up. “I went alone and without warning for a reason.

I acted alone

, no one can contest that, you were all here when Kisuke removed the Hogyoku.”
 
Renji seemed surprised he’d thought that far, but he still had reason to be confused and upset. “So why did you go?”
 
He debated answering, but putting it off was likely pointless. They would all probably know by the end of today anyways. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “To take Hueco Mundo by force. I’m king now.”
 
Renji stared at him in shock, then looked at Rukia. She didn’t look surprised, and that was all the confirmation he seemed to need. He looked back at Ichigo. “Y-you’re not serious. You’re siding with

hollows

? You can’t mean-”
 
“I’m not so different from them, Renji.” His eyes bled black in warning. The fukutaicho started to sweat, taking a swift step back. It wasn’t a threat, just a pointed reminder he was a bit more than a shinigami.
 
He blinked, pushing his hollow power away. “Don’t tell me Soul Society was just going to let Aizen’s army off scot free. I know better.”
 
Renji grit his teeth, struggling to find the words to articulate what he wanted to say. Rukia stepped in, her brows drawn. “So you’re protecting them? Why?”
 
He answered, “Because they don’t deserve to die.”
 
Renji demanded, “How can you

know

that?”
 
“I’ve fought them before.”
 
“You can’t be this naive; they’re hollows, they-”
 
“

Renji.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, but there was authority laced through his voice. He hadn’t intended to spill his guts in front of an audience, damn Renji for that, but the only thing that might make him shut him up was the truth. Or at least a part of it. “I didn’t make this choice lightly. The arrancar I’ve let live spilled my blood, yours, Rukia’s. They beat Orihime, they tortured me, Rukia, Chad, you. I’m under no delusion that they are

kind

, they are what they are.”
 
Renji’s eyes widened, not understanding, and the others were conspicuously silent. Ichigo ignored his friends, but he could feel their attention on him; these were questions they likely wanted answered as well.
 
Renji asked, “If they did all that, how can you protect them?”
 
“Because I understand them.” In a way he couldn’t just ignore. “Don’t be too aghast, Renji, I killed the arrancar that were too unstable, and if any defy me, they’ll die too.” His eyes narrowed. “The arrancar are mine, Soul Society does

not

command me.”
 
Renji seemed sufficiently cowed, but Rukia wasn’t. She stepped forward, searching his eyes. “Do you

want

a war? Why are you doing this?”
 
His tone softened, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “Of course not, Rukia. I’m doing this

because

I hate war.”
 
Kisuke stepped in to try to diffuse the argument, and Ichigo let him, watching the ex-captain impassively. “Kurosaki-san has a point. Who better to command Hueco Mundo than a half shinigami that has reason to protect the human world?” He looked to Ichigo. “You’ve put yourself in a position where you can’t be ignored. I don’t know if that’s clever, or insanity.”
 
Ichigo gave Kisuke a thoughtful look. “I can't tell if that's an insult or not.” He lifted his hand, raking his fingers through his hair in a pathetic attempt to diffuse his own tension. “I know what I’m doing, Renji, Rukia. Now can we dial it down a notch and have lunch, I haven’t eaten in days.” And if he was about to be spiritually banished to Hueco Mundo, he’d like to eat something normal first.
 
Renji frowned at him, then scoffed, “You’re impossible.”
 
Rukia didn’t look happy either, but she relented. Ichigo finally spared a glance for Orihime, noting the sliver of fear in her eyes. He supposed the Kurosaki she knew didn't casually leave to kill arrancar and promise to do it again. He wasn't sure, he didn't remember who he used to be.
 
They had lunch, and Ichigo pretended not to notice the tension in the others. Their conversation stayed as light as possible, none of them willing to drag it back to where it had been. The only three who seemed to be relaxed were Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Chad.
 
He wasn’t even done before Kisuke drew out a buzzing phone, and drew it to their attention that three captains had just passed through a senkaimon. Seemed his moment of peace was fleeting. He’d been hoping to go home before this, but that seemed too much to ask.
 
He got up to go meet them, and for all of their peace of mind, he stayed in his body. The keychain Kisuke had lent him would be adequate to kick himself out of it, but what better way to protect his body than to actually be in it? He could use hirenkyaku if he had to, he just wasn’t as good at it as Ishida. He didn’t trust Soul Society, but he didn’t think they would go so far as to try to kill his living body.
 
Rukia and Renji insisted on going with him, and he honestly wasn’t sure if it was because they had been ordered to or not. The closer he got to their meeting place, the more he focused. He could sense Shunsui’s and Ukitake’s energy, and that was proof enough that Yamamoto wasn’t pleased. He wasn’t surprised to feel Byakuya’s reiatsu. Since Rukia was here, he probably would have talked his way into coming even if he wasn’t chosen, and he was a stickler for the rules, he probably knew the laws better than Yama-jii himself.
 
He tracked them to a empty lot filled with nothing but weeds, drying grass, and some piles of dirt. It was big enough to host a fight if it came to it, but Ichigo hoped it wouldn’t.
 
The three captain’s haori shifted in the breeze. It was a hot, pleasant day, scattered clouds casting shadows on the town as they crawled overhead. It was nothing like Hueco Mundo, he didn’t know why he kept comparing things to it.
 
He noted how tense the three captains looked. Shunsui actually looked on guard, Ukitake was frowning, and Byakuya actually looked concerned  He decided that wasn’t a bad thing, at least they were taking him seriously.
 
He stopped a good fifty feet away for their sakes, his hands in his pockets. He said nothing, he waited for them to speak first since they were the ones that demanded this.
 
Shunsui looked almost sad, his hands in his sleeves as he stepped forward. “Kurosaki-kun, I wish we were meeting under better circumstances…”
 
Ichigo shrugged a shoulder. “Ah, I know. Might as well skip the pleasantries.” He could feel Rukia and Renji’s unease in their reiatsu, but he pretended not to notice. The two stood to the side, acting under the decorum a lieutenant might take while sitting in on a captain’s meeting.
 
Shunsui spoke in the tone all official business demanded, keeping his emotions out of it. “You went against orders and opened a garganta to Hueco Mundo, where you remained for nearly 72 hours. What were your intentions?”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, but still appeared to be relaxed. He didn’t fear them; He knew their Zanpakuto, their power, their personalities. He had the advantage here, and they knew it. “My intention was to claim Hueco Mundo for myself. I succeeded.”
 
The trio stared at him in shock, and he elaborated before they could ask more questions. “I killed the arrancar that stood in my way, I recruited the Espada, and I killed the king.” His eyes darkened. “

Hueco Mundo is mine.

Any shinigami that steps foot in my desert will die.”
 
Byakuya started, “You cannot-”

“I’m not done.”

He shot Byakuya a warning look and the noble fell into silence. “In return, the hollows I command will leave both humans and shinigami alone.”
 
Ukitake’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You can’t possibly control so many.”
 
Ichigo let his eyes bleed black, his irises shining gold. They were still under the impression they were talking to a human. That assumption was wrong. “I’m perfectly capable of punishing a subordinate.“ Zangetsu’s voice echoed just beneath his own, his hollow itching to fight, but he still hoped it wouldn’t come down to that.
 
Byakuya’s brows fell in real anger. “You defied an order, you can’t expect there won’t be consequences.”
 
He answered Byakuya, but his eyes didn’t leave Shunsui's. “I was never yours to control.”
 
Shunsui sighed. “I see.” He looked up at the clouds for a moment, then returned his attention to Ichigo to ask, “I don’t suppose there’s room for negotiation?”
 
“Don’t test me, I’m being generous.” He really didn’t have any wiggle room, and he desperately hoped Yama-jii didn’t test his resolve on the issue. He wasn’t bluffing when he said he would kill any shinigami that stepped into Hueco Mundo. If he wanted to earn the loyalty of the arrancar, he couldn’t afford to look weak, and he couldn’t make exceptions.
 
Shunsui asked, “What reassurances can you give us that you don’t intend to follow thru on Aizen’s initial plan? How do we know you aren’t amassing power to invade Soul Society?”
 
His eyes narrowed to slits at the mere insinuation he might have anything to do with Aizen. Zangetsu screamed in his head, but he didn’t oblige his desires. He let out a slow, steadying breath, not trusting himself to speak until he calmed down. When he did speak, he sounded calmer than he felt. “You have no other proof besides my word, and I have no other proof I can give.”
 
Ichigo lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “Shadow me in the human world if you must, but stay out of Hueco Mundo. In return I’ll extend the same courtesy.” The human world was still neutral ground for shinigami, they weren’t allowed to interfere. Given he still had a living body, he got ‘special privileges.’
 
Shunsui frowned. “Is that arrogance, or confidence?”

Neither, Shunsui.

It was hard to talk to him like he was a stranger. He’d never known Shunsui very well, but he was no stranger to him. “For better or worse, Aizen made us, he shaped us, and I’m doing my best to keep us alive. You don’t have to understand it. I’m

telling

you Soul Society has no authority over us.”
 
Shunsui stared back, weighing his answer, then sighed again. “How tiresome. Yama-jii isn’t going to like this.”

“The old man can bite me.”

Chill out, they’re not our enemy.

“Still don’t like them.”

“He doesn’t have to like it, it’s how it is. Hueco Mundo is mine, and I’ll defend it until I’m struck down.”
 
Shunsui looked at Ichigo, not as a king, a visored, or a ryoka, but as a young man. ”That’s a lot for someone so young to shoulder.“
 
Ichigo felt Zangetsu rage, his hollow and his quincy side finding that statement to be deeply ironic. He couldn’t help but feel bitter. They blamed him for what he was, but they played their part all the same. “Who do you think put that weight there?” Shunsui and Ukitake looked confused more than anything, but he didn’t feel inclined to explain.
 
He huffed and straightened, realizing Zangetsu’s instincts had had him leaning forward. “Don’t make me kill anyone.” It came out as less of a demand and more of a plea, but they saw him kill Aizen with ease, he knew they would understand that wasn’t a bluff. He was relying on his strength in the hopes they would leave him and Hueco Mundo alone.
 
Ukitake spoke up. “If you aren’t gathering power to attack Soul Society, then what need could you have of it? You’re strong enough on your own.”
 
Ichigo considered what to tell him, his hands still firmly in his pockets. “Consider it a precaution for the future.” He didn’t have anything concrete to tell them, but he hoped if they saw him gathering power, they would react in kind out of fear. He needed everyone to be stronger. He didn’t want any of his old friends to die, even if he didn’t really know them anymore. He could be the bad guy if he had to be.
 
Shunsui frowned, genuine sadness in his eyes. “You’re not making this easy, kid.”
 
Ichigo snorted, insulted. “Nothing worth doing is easy.” He thought he saw Ukitake smile, but it was hard to tell.
 
Shunsui straightened some. “I’ll take your demands to the soutaichou. Expect a response by midday tomorrow.”
 
“I’ll be here.”
 
Shunsui’s shoulders relaxed, but just a fraction. He glanced over at Rukia and Renji, both of which straightened to attention. “Oy! You coming or staying?”
 
Rukia practically shouted. “I would like to remain here, taicho.”
 
Renji looked from Rukia to Byakuya, the taicho turning to open the senkaimon. “Stay with Rukia, Renji.”
 
“Y-yes, taicho!”
 
Ichigo tried not to groan at how uptight the pair were. At least he knew they would grow out of it. The absurdity lessened the sting of Byakuya being uncertain if he would harm his sister or not.
 
The three captains left through the senkaimon, and Ichigo let his grip on his hollow power slip away. His head fell back with a slow exhale, the field cast into shadow by a passing cloud.
 
He stood there long enough that Rukia apparently started to get concerned. He heard her voice from behind him, nearly within arm’s reach. “Ichigo?” He knew she was there, but he was glad she didn’t get any closer. He looked over at her, waiting for her to continue. “Did you mean what you said?”
 
“Yeah.” Her face fell, and he knew it wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for. “Sometimes you have to do things you don’t wanna do. You should know that, Rukia.” His tone was gentle, not accusatory; with her past concerning Kaien, he thought she might understand.
 
Her brows furrowed. “This isn’t the same. You're turning your back on Soul Society, you're making them an enemy.”

“Fuck this, let me talk.”

He muttered aloud to himself. “Zangetsu-”
 
His hollow insisted.

“No. I wanna talk.”

He sorted through the hollows feelings, and it really did seem like he was just concerned, in his own way. He could tell him no, but he hardly ever asked to speak, he had to have a reason. He looked over at Renji, then Rukia in warning. “Zangetsu wants out, don’t panic.”
 
Renji frowned in confusion. “Your Zanpakuto?”
 
Rukia elaborated. “His hollow.”
 
Renji blanched, and Ichigo didn’t bother going through the song and dance, he just let Zangetsu push forward into his mind. It was almost a relief to let him take over, his perspective shifting so he was a spectator. He could take back control whenever he wanted, but he trusted Zangetsu to back off when he asked.
 
Ichigo’s posture changed, his eyes reflecting the black and gold of Zangetsu. His hollow lifted his hand to rub his neck, lips curling with a snarl. “Don’t know how you can just shrug that off, king, fuckin hurts.”

I didn’t swap with you so you could bitch.

He was good at shrugging off pain, and a stiff neck from stress and bad sleep were just a drop in the bucket when it came to his problems.
 
Rukia took a step back, a bit intimidated, and in response, Renji stepped forward. He stated the obvious. “You're not Ichigo.”
 
Zangetsu sneered. “Duh, dumbass. He warned you for a reason.” He stepped forward, getting into Renji’s personal space. “You’ve got no idea the shit this idiot goes through to protect you sorry bastards.”
 
Renji argued, “You’re a hollow, you’re probably just using him!”
 
The swell of rage Ichigo felt concerned him. They both knew that wasn't true, but Zangetsu had a temper,

his

temper, and he didn't often see a need to curb it.

Zangetsu

.
 
The hollow leaned in close, eyes narrowing in the desire for violence. He left his hands in his pockets, trying to lessen the urge. Zangetsu hissed, “There ain’t anyone alive that wants to protect king more than I do. If I thought killin’ ya would help, you’d be dead.”
 
Renji swallowed and leaned back, and Ichigo actually felt a little sorry for him. Being on the other end of Zangetsu’s anger wasn’t a pleasant experience, they were both lucky they couldn’t feel their reiatsu.
 
Zangetsu leaned back a fraction, looking at Rukia, then Renji. “Now listen, ya fucking idiots, if there’s one thing king understands, it’s hollows.”
 
Fear washed over him and he pushed to take back control, but to his surprise, Zangetsu pushed back.

You wouldn’t-

You won’t tell them, you’ll never tell them, and if you push your friends away, we all suffer for it. So shut up and let me talk.

Ichigo pushed again for good measure, but Zangetsu didn’t relent. If Ichigo really fought back he could overthrow him, but that he was resisting at all was proof enough this was important to him. He stopped pressuring his hollow, and Zangetsu turned his attention back to Rukia and Renji.
 
“I’m only gonna say this once so pay attention. King and I killed the bastard that tortured us just in time to get front and center seats to watchin’ his sisters be shredded. Aizen made fucking sure he saw, that he heard. His mind snapped, he couldn’t take it, and he spent the better part of two years

feral

in that goddamned desert. Soul Society turned their back on him,

he was alone

. Do. You. Understand?”
 
The pair heard Zangetsu, but they both knew they couldn’t understand, all they could hope for was for them to try. He knew his relationship with his inner spirits was...unconventional. Now they knew why.
 
“That fucking war lasted a decade for a reason.

We lost

. Badly. We’re still trying to put him back together, and I won’t let king fall apart again.”
 
Now Ichigo understood what Zangetsu was doing. Just hearing him say it made his chest ache, cringing back from the truth.

King, you can’t pretend that shit never happened, you’re only getting worse.

Rukia looked ill, and Renji couldn’t seem to settle on an emotion. He knew the two had been there when he’d killed Aizen, and he knew they had been disturbed by his brutality. He hadn't killed Aizen out of any real sense of duty, he'd done it out of vengeance, and a desperate, mad desire to prevent the future from coming to pass.
 
Zangetsu snarled. “Screw your pity, I’m tellin’ ya because I want you to understand; King ain’t doin’ this for himself. Ya think he

wants

a pack of bloodthirsty arrancar at his throat the rest of his life?

Think

for one fuckin’ second.” He curled his lips in disgust, taking a step back. “Aren't ya suppose to be his friends? Help him, or for fucks sake, I’ll make sure you can’t ever hurt him again.”
 
Rukia looked like she'd been struck, he had no doubt she believed she was helping, but Zangetsu didn't see it that way, and he would lie to himself and say it didn't hurt.
 
Ichigo pushed Zangetsu back in his mind, the darkness clearing from his eyes. He almost pitched forward, suddenly off balance. He straightened, fixing them both with a wide-eyed look that bordered on shame. They didn’t need to ask if it was true.
 
“Ichigo…” The look on Rukia’s face made his chest tight.
 
He had to look somewhere else, anywhere else. “Don't look at me like that.”
 
“Did Soul Society…” Renji didn’t finish his question, they all knew what he was going to ask.
 
It still hurt, even after all those years. He tried his damndest not to think about it, but Zangetsu was right, and his hollow was doing everything in his power to protect them and their crumbling world. He shoved his hands in his pockets, hiding how badly they were shaking. “Is it so surprising? You saw what they did to Kisuke, what they nearly did to Rukia.”
 
He lifted his shoulders in a stiff shrug, trying and failing to play off how much it hurt. “When I escaped, I was more hollow than human. I was MIA in enemy territory, a place shinigami aren't even meant to be in the first place. I didn’t know how to make a garganta back then. I couldn’t leave, and Aizen knew it.” The smug sonuvabitch. He didn’t think Aizen had planned for him to escape, but he’d certainly made the best of it.
 
“If I’m being logical, Soul Society did the right thing, but I can’t keep my emotions out of it; l can’t just step aside and trust them.” He wasn’t even sure if he trusted Rukia anymore. He trusted who she was, but if she came up behind him when he wasn't paying attention, he wasn’t sure if he would hurt her or not. They both could barely come to grips with what he was. At best, in his time, they had pretended he was the same.
 
He looked around at Karakura with a small frown. “This place hasn’t felt like home in a long time.”
 
Rukia’s voice was soft. “But your family is here. Your sisters, your friends...”
 
“I know. I tried to pretend things could go back to how they were, but that was stupid of me. I don’t think I belong here anymore.” Karakura felt small, crowded, loud.

Fragile

.
 
Karin and Yuzu were growing into their own spiritual power, his father was still around to watch them, and he knew Kisuke would keep a close watch on them as well. He loved his sisters, but he could protect them better from a distance. He was just going to cause them pain.
 
Renji crossed his arms, struggling to articulate his thoughts. “You don't act like any hollow I've ever fought. Even the actual hollow in you isn't what I expected. I don't know what I'm tryin’ to say, just-you're not a monster. Don't get me wrong, you've got monstrous reiatsu, and you're as brutal as Kenpachi, but I think your heart’s in the right place. I can't say I understand you, but after what they almost did to Rukia, I'm not feeling too keen on Soul Society either.”
 
The red-head looked away, feeling a touch self conscious now that he noticed he had Rukia and Ichigo’s undivided attention. “If you think this is what you need to do-I feel like an idiot for sayin’ this, but I've got your back, Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo’s brows fell, not having expected that, and from Renji no less.
 
Rukia relented. “I don’t think I approve, Ichigo, but I won’t argue with you. You’re doing what you feel is right, I can understand that. Just be careful.”
 
She looked tired. Going from nearly being executed to another position of powerless was a heap of extra stress he didn't intend to shove off on her. She was far from weak, but there was only so much someone could take, and he didn't mean to be the one to add to it.
 
“I will.” His voice was low, still uncomfortable having the discussion so focused on him. “Thanks.”
 
Renji blushed, looking away with a mutter. “It’s not a big deal.”
 
Rukia gave him a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry...If we can help you, don't leave us in the dark.”
 
Ichigo forced himself not to look away. “I'll try to remember that.” It was as honest an answer as he could give. It was hard to remember he wasn’t alone anymore.
 
He jerked his head in the direction of Kisuke’s shop. “You guys go ahead, I was gonna stop at home.” He was proud of himself for not tripping over that word; home. He had a lot he needed to get done before Soul Society’s inevitable answer, and he couldn’t be away for Hueco Mundo for long. If he could swing manifesting Zangetsu in Hueco Mundo while he was away, he would do it in a heartbeat, but unfortunately their range was limited.
 
Rukia seemed hesitant, and he gave her a smile. “I'm okay.” He tapped his temple. “They're watching.” Zangetsu and ossan were watching

very

closely. They were looking out for him, they always were.
 
Rukia and Renji were still hesitant, but they left, and he was alone with his thoughts and the sunshine.
 
He hurt.
 
Ichigo closed his eyes. He remembered the desert. He remembered devouring hollows, fighting, killing, running. It was a sorry existence until he took back his mind.
 
Zangetsu drew out all the memories he hadn’t wanted to face. He whispered. “You bastard…” His heart wasn't in it, and Zangetsu knew it.

“The hollow is right, Ichigo, every day you deny this pain only twists the knife deeper.”

Now that he was once again alone and there was no one to see, he let the tears fall. He grit his teeth, angry at himself. “

Pathetic

.”

“Yer not pathetic, king. You survived. Yer the better predator, the stronger monster.”

He stood there in the sun until he stopped shaking, his heart still heavy. He turned and started walking home, hoping he didn’t look as awful as he felt. He hadn’t wanted to go home like this, but he was running out of time. How he could go back in time and have so little of it was a mystery.

No regrets. Keep moving forward.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo knew it couldn’t be helped, but even more time was stolen from him. It wasn’t like he expected everyone else to put their lives on hold over him, but his luck was awful. Yuzu was studying with friends, Karin had a soccer game, and Isshun was with a patient; some kid that got too rambunctious and had a broken arm to show for it.
 
He waited in the sitting room, bouncing his knee. Rude, maybe, but he was antsy, and he didn’t really have time to spare sitting around.
 
His father was his usual bubbly, obnoxious self, but he could see that it was false. He acted stupid, but he was more perceptive than he let on. He had no doubt he'd sensed the captains, and since he didn't think Kisuke had told Isshun what was happening, it was up to Ichigo to explain.
 
His dad waved the kid and his mother off, giving him a sweet before the mother ushered the boy away in his new cast. He watched them go a moment, then turned to face Ichigo, his smile evaporating. Ichigo stood, waiting for his father to speak first.
 
Isshin gave him a long, hard look, then asked, “What did you do?” It wasn't accusatory, but Ichigo couldn't help but feel it would be justified if it was.
 
Ichigo rubbed his neck, looking out the window. He pretended his dad’s opinion didn't matter to him, but he cared a good deal about what he had to say. Seeing him so concerned made him feel guilty. “I went against orders and conquered Hueco Mundo. I killed the king and took his place.”
 
Isshin gripped his shirt, forcing him to look his father in the eyes. “You did

what

?”
 
He wasn’t going to change his mind and he didn’t regret it, but he was still his father, and his disapproval stung. “Oyaji...I know what I'm doing.”
 
Isshin studied him, his frown deepening, and he let him go with a mutter, “You really are my son, aren't you?” He rubbed his brow, pacing for a moment. Ichigo knew his father understood what he'd told him. He wouldn't be able to assert control if he wasn't actually in Hueco Mundo. “What are you going to tell your sisters?”
 
Ichigo didn’t know, he really was a shitty older brother. “I'll still visit, it's not forever.” Isshin just stared at him like he was waiting for him to say more. His voice broke. “What do you want me to say? I don't want to hurt them, I can't stay here.”
 
Isshin’s expression didn’t change, he was still searching him for an answer. He asked, “What are you afraid of, Ichigo?”
 
Why did he have to see straight through him? “I don’t want to hurt Yuzu or Karin, my friends, or you.” He got this power to protect them, and now he was betrayed by it. If he wasn’t himself and he struck to kill, they wouldn’t be able to stop him. It would be like drowning kittens.
 
“Do you really think you would?”
 
Isshin was asking him an honest question, one that he didn’t want to answer. “I already have. I can’t stay here.”
 
“Do you

want

to stay?”
 
The question caught Ichigo off guard, eyes widening. Isshin was still watching him with that same steady expression. There was no pity, or fear or judgement. He had to look away, the truth hurt. “No.”
 
Isshin put a hand on his shoulder, and to his surprise, he didn’t jump or tense. “Ichigo...you’re an adult now, I can’t force you to do anything, and you wouldn’t listen to me anyways, but I trust you. You do what you need to.” He squeezed his shoulder, and Ichigo braved looking back. “You can always come home.”
 
Ichigo’s heart clenched, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Isshin’s hand fell away, and it was a moment before he trusted himself to speak. “Ah, I know, oyaji.”
 
Isshin finally smiled. “I’m proud of you.”
 
The words were so simple, but they meant the world to him. They both argued and talked a lot of shit, but he looked up to him. His father was strong, and now that he’d surpassed him, he still couldn’t help but think he hadn’t lived up to his expectations. He wasn’t a doctor like his dad, he wasn’t even a good shinigami, but he’d told him he was proud of him, and he’d meant it.
 
Isshin’s smile fell a bit and he reluctantly turned the conversation back to business. “What did the old man have to say about all this?”
 
“He doesn’t trust me.” Ichigo snorted. “Obviously. Shunsui’s taking my message back to him now. I’ll know by tomorrow what he plans to do, but I can guess.”
 
“What did you tell them?”
 
He answered flatly. “That I’ll kill any shinigami that steps foot in my territory, but in return, the arrancar will remain in Hueco Mundo.”
 
Isshin’s eyes widened. “...Oh. I can’t imagine he’ll take that well.”
 
“He doesn’t have anyone strong enough to take me into custody, so yeah, I imagine he wouldn’t.” Talking about something that wasn’t his feelings was a welcome change. He didn’t want to be crying like a bitch when he went back to Hueco Mundo, that was just plain stupid.
 
Isshin grimaced, “Surely you had a bit more tact than that?”
 
“A bit.” He shrugged guiltily. “I was angry.”
 
Isshin said, “Ah. You can follow thru on that promise?”
 
Ichigo didn’t think his father was actually doubtful, just clarifying. His eyes narrowed, “If they cross me, they’ll die.”
 
His father asked, “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
 
Ichigo shifted, stuffing his hands in his pockets again. “Sort of.” Isshin waited for him to keep talking, so he didn’t disappoint. “I spent a lot of time in Hueco Mundo alone. I know how this shit works.” Not as long as a born adjuchas, not even close, but he’d always had a steep learning curve.
 
“Alone? Why?”
 
Ichigo’s expression fell, but he found that now that his emotions were already so raw, it wasn’t so painful to think about. He wasn’t sure his father really knew what he was asking him for, but he didn’t feel like lying or blowing him off, he wanted him to know. “Aizen got me.” Those words had a look crossing his face that Ichigo had never seen on his father before. His father looked distressed, murderous,

angry

.
 
He looked away, not certain he wanted to see his reaction. “I’m not really sure what they were doing, but it hurt. My hollow got stronger, it was hard to think; maybe the surge in my instincts was from the pain, or maybe it was the Hogyoku. I don’t know, but he did it on purpose. Szayel pushed and he pushed, and I

finally

killed him. He finally

shut

u

p

.” He couldn’t censor the satisfaction from his voice. He didn’t have many good dreams, but killing Szayel was one of them.
 
“Aizen knew I escaped, I wasn’t subtle. At all. I wanted to go home, but stopped me. He had Yuzu and Karin.” He dropped his head to his head, clenching his teeth. He stopped there, he couldn’t say those words aloud, he couldn’t. “Things are fuzzy after that…”
 
He looked at Isshin’s feet, not moving when his father came up and pulled him into a loose embrace. He moved slow, giving him plenty of time to reject it if he wished. Ichigo stiffened, but didn’t pull away, dropping his head to his father’s shoulder. He didn’t cry, he was so far beyond tears. Isshin held him, his hand on his back, but he was family, he was safe, and the gentle churning of his reiatsu was a comfort.
 
“Ichigo…” He didn’t seem to be able to finish his sentence, and Ichigo knew he didn’t need to.
 
They stood there for a few minutes in mutual silence. He knew his father felt guilty, responsible, because he would feel responsible too. He was indeed his father's son. That deep loneliness in his heart didn't ache so much that he couldn't breathe. His family was still here, they were safe, and it made his memories feel like a horrible nightmare.
 
He finally leaned back, reluctant to pull away, but he really did need to go. For all his father's exceedingly loud theatrics, neither seemed willing to acknowledge that moment aloud. “Tell Yuzu and Karin I’ll be back soon. If things don’t go badly, tomorrow.”
 
“Stay safe, Ichigo.”
 
“Yeah.” He didn’t think he’d have the strength to leave if he lingered, he turned and left the clinic, feeling a bit numb, but not in a bad way.
 
He was actually surprised that the usual commentary from Zangetsu had been suspiciously absent.

“You were doing what I wanted, didn’t have any complaints.”

He returned to Kisuke’s shop, and after a few words of reassurance to Rukia and Renji, he kicked himself out of his body. He left himself in Kisuke’s capable hands, then jumped up on platforms of reishi to the sky. He let out a steadying breath, calming himself as best he could.

Zangetsu

.
 
It was all he had to say, before his hollow power was once again front and center. The change was getting easier, accepting his hollow power had only become easier recently, but the distance from his emotions was a welcome price to pay.
 
He tore a hole in the world.

--- xxx ---

Ichigo had been careful to open his garganta some miles away from Las Noches. It was possible to follow the energy after a gate closed for a short period, and he wasn’t going to take chances when it came to his family. He circled Las Noches from a distance, and even with his speed, it took about an hour. He made it full circle and still didn’t sense Nelliel. He was a little concerned, but he’d already wasted too much time searching.
 
He ran back to Las Noches, giving up for the time being. He just had to believe he’d find her again.
 
Once inside the dome of Las Noches, he became aware of two things. For one, the air was thick with reiatsu. Which meant a good deal of fighting had gone on in the short time he was away. He wasn’t pleased about that.
 
The second was that he was recognized on sight, and the results of that were annoying. Any low ranking arrancar he passed either bowed or practically grovelled, dropping to a knee and making very certain not to make eye contact. A part of him, the hollow part, was pleased by this, but ultimately he just found it to be needless.
 
For the time being, he ignored it. He stopped before one at random, and the poor thing was shaking like a leaf. “Calm down, I ain’t gonna kill ya’. Gather the Espada, and the Queen.”
 
“Understood, h-heika! Where-where should I send them?”
 
“Above the dome.”
 
He didn't intend to ever use that fucking meeting room. If it didn't feel so childish, he might have just destroyed it. Hell, maybe he'd destroy it anyways.
 
He left the arrancar alone, speeding through the halls unnoticed. He passed by the massive hole in Las Noches that had become Nnoitra’s grave, noting that the reishi in the environment was already fixing the floors and pillars. It was a slow process, but the destruction was a touch less jagged.
 
As he circled Las Noches, he noted the scars of what appeared to have been some skirmishes, but he didn’t linger long enough to determine whose reiatsu it was. It was enough that all the Espada he’d last seen alive were still alive, he could sense the Espada scattered throughout.
 
Once he’d seen all he needed to, he went through the hole in the dome he’d made the day prior to wait. The Espada were fast, but his messenger wasn’t, he fully expected this might take awhile, and that was ideal.
 
He stood and waited in silence, the slight chill of the desert a familiar comfort. It wasn’t silent for long.

“King.”

“What?”

“Can we kill ‘im?”

Not yet. We can't forget about Aaroniero either.

They were still unsure how to handle that one. He hadn't been all that strong to begin with, which was why he'd relied on psychological tricks to get an edge up on Rukia. If she had been at the top of her game, the outcome would have been very different.
 
Even if he felt inclined to let the arrancar live, he had two heads, and they had differing personalities and ideas. Controlling and predicting him might prove to be difficult.
 
Ichigo sensed Zommari behind him first, but he didn't acknowledge him. He kept his guard up because he was by far the fastest of the Espada, but he wasn't really concerned by him. Besides being arrogant, he wasn't much of a threat once you took away his speed.
 
The next to show up was Ulquiorra and Harribel. Both continued the trend of silence, although Harribel stood closer to him, just behind him.
 
Next was Aaroniero and Szayel, whom he carefully ignored, then Grimmjow. Unsurprisingly, Starrk and Lilynette were last.
 
He finally turned to face them, giving Grimmjow a quick once over. The sexta arrancar noticed the attention, straightening a little. He was doing better, it seemed, he had his usual stalking posture and violently bored expression back.

He looked between the Espada, not wasting time with pleasantries. “So who’s dead?” He was annoyed, but not necessarily surprised. There was a power vacuum, and until they fought out their differences, he’d expected some casualties. He could have just chosen replacements, but that would only generate animosity.
 
Harribel answered, “Nine Numero arrancar, Cirucci fell to Aaroniero, and Grimmjow lost Nakeem.”
 
“To who?”
 
Grimmjow answered, so Ichigo assumed Harribel hadn’t known. “Szayelaporro.”
 
He filled in the blanks easily enough. Clearly the Privaron Espada wanted to try to fight her way to being an Espada again and had lost. Which meant Aaroniero might be stronger than Szayel at that point. He could guess what had happened between Szayel and Nakeem, but what mattered was how truthful he would be about it.
 
He looked at Szayel, and the Espada took a wary step back. Maybe he wasn't doing as good of a job hiding his desire to kill him after all. He asked, “Who initiated the fight?”
 
Szayel readjusted his glasses, clearly nervous. “Nakeem.”
 
He sensed Grimmjow raging over that answer, the Espada’s reiatsu spiking. His eyes narrowed. “Tried to take out Grimmjow, didn't you?”
 
Szayel opened his mouth to defend himself, but he didn't get far. Ichigo was in front of him in an instant, a clawed finger pressing up into the vulnerable flesh beneath his jaw. He tilted his head up, forcing him to make eye contact. “Lying by omission is still

lying

.”
 
Szayel swallowed, forcing Ichigo’s claw to break the skin. Blood welled around his finger, streaking down his neck. His eyes tracked the blood until it stopped at the edge of his coat, tilting his head back farther, forcing him to bare his throat. Szayel stopped breathing, eyes wide.

“DO IT, KING. BLOW HIS FUCKING BRAINS OUT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Zangetsu’s screeching wasn’t helping. It would be so easy to kill him. He desperately wanted to, but in this timeline he had no reason any of the Espada would understand, and Kisuke’s words kept coming back to him. He wanted him dead so badly, but was what he wanted actually what he needed.
 
He let him go, and it took immense effort to will himself to do so. “Don't do it again.”
 
Szayel stood there, sweating, and simply nodded, fearful speaking would only earn him attention he didn't want. The other Espada took all this in stride, so he could only conclude they were use to it after Aizen.
 
Ichigo took a few steps away, and unsurprisingly the distance didn't seem to help Szayel relax. “If you’re going to fight, try not to kill each other.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “It ain’t a fight unless the other guy doesn’t get back up.”
 
Ichigo let out an annoyed sigh. “Let me rephrase that:

Don’t kill each other.

You’re fucking useless if you’re dead. I don’t give a damn if you fight out your differences, but don’t be a nuisance.” He glared at Aaroniero. “You ate Cirucci?”
 
Aaroniero didn’t even try to lie. “Yes.”
 
“Then at least the power wasn’t wasted.” He didn’t like Aaroniero. At all. But he still had room to evolve, and he couldn’t think of a good reason to kill him either.
 
Harribel finally spoke up. “We still have no cero, segunda, quinto, or diez Espada. Do you intend to promote an arrancar?”
 
“You know better than I do who’s the strongest in your fracciones. You’re all varying levels of weak to me, it’s hard to tell.”
 
Grimmjow growled under his breath. “Bastard.”
 
Ichigo had to admit, he liked that Grimmjow didn’t cower. It was nice to see someone talk back at him, not that he didn’t get plenty from Zangetsu. He had to wonder how Aizen hadn’t killed him right off the bat with an attitude like that. “You can be offended when you get stronger; my ability to sense reiatsu isn’t very refined.” It wasn’t a real weakness, and they would find out anyway. “How do these numbers work anyway?”
 
Grimmjow said, “They go from diez to cero, dumbass.”
 
Ulquiorra said, “Being loud only makes you sound stupid.” Grimmjow ground his teeth, and Ichigo wondered how they could possibly still be so sharp. He offered, “The numbers are formed with Kidou.”
 
“Ah. I can’t use that.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Honestly? I don’t give a shit about what number you are. If you’re proud of it, keep it, I don’t care. I’ll admit, it’s gonna be confusing if the numbers don’t match your rank.”
 
Starrk frowned. “You look a little like a shinigami. I thought shinigami knew Kidou?”
 
His shihakusho was streaked with white, but Starrk wasn’t wrong, he did still look like a shinigami, minus the horns, hollow hole, and black stripes. “I ain’t that kind of shinigami.” Honestly, his control was just too shit to accurately and delicately do anything with Kidou. “I could kill you with Kidou, but I ain’t fancy.”
 
Zommari spoke up from the back, near Aaroniero. “If we can’t fight meaningfully, what rank do we hold?”
 
“I’m not going to rank you based on power. If that were the case, Ulquiorra would be cero, Starrk would be primera, and Harribel would remain tres.”
 
Grimmjow snarled, “Why the fuck would the freak be cero?”
 
Ichigo answered vaguely. “You’ll see.” Ulquiorra gave him a sharp look, but said nothing.
 
Ichigo looked to Starrk. “Do you want to be in charge?”
 
“No.”
 
Ichigo looked at Ulquiorra. “Do you?” No answer. He took that to be a no.
 
Instead of claiming all authority, Ichigo turned it over to Harribel. “How would you rank the Espada?”
 
She answered calmly, and without hesitation. “I will be cero, Ulquiorra is primera, Starrk and Lilynette are segunda, Grimmjow is tres, Zommari is cuatro, Aaroniero is quinto, and Szayelaporro is sexta.”
 
Ichigo looked at all the Espada. “There you have it. Objections?”
 
Grimmjow was actually grinning at the promotion, Zommari looked like he wanted to leave, and Szayel looked thoughtful. He thought Starrk might actually not be listening, and Lilynette was shockingly quiet. He assumed it had something to do with being surrounded by arrancar several times her skill level.
 
“Good. Then you’re all promoted. Any suggestions for who should take the higher numbers?
 
“Shawlong.” Grimmjow sounded so certain, and Harribel didn’t dismiss the arrancar, neither did anyone else.
 
Ichigo said, “Then Shawlong is septima.” He continued, looking to Harribel. “I think octava should be held by all three of your fraccion. Quimera Parca is strong, and the three are never apart.”
 
Harribel gave him a questioning look, likely wondering how he could know a technique he’d never seen. She closed her eyes. “If you deem them worthy.”
 
He did, and he thought she was being modest. That monster stood up against captains and had a crushing amount of power. He asked, “Who else?”
 
Szayel spoke up, surprising Ichigo. “Yylfordt.” He didn’t say it with any level of respect, but maybe offering up a real suggestion was his way of trying to gain favor. He knew he didn’t want to die, but he had to wonder how far he’d go to stay alive.
 
Ichigo questioned him, wondering if he had hidden motivations, or if he was being genuine. “Your brother?”
 
Szayel seemed surprised he knew, his brows furrowing. “Unfortunately.”
 
Grimmjow offered, “He’s strong.”
 
Ichigo made sure there were no objections. “Then Yylfordt is noveno.”
 
Grimmjow looked around, and when no one offered a suggestion, he said, “Edrad Liones.”
 
He didn’t question Grimmjow’s choice, and neither did anyone else. “Edrad is diez.”
 
Again, there were no objections.
 
“Now that that’s out of the way,” he moved on, looking to Ulquiorra. “we’re all the way up here for a reason. Show them.”
 
Ulquiorra just stared at him for a long moment, hands in his pockets.
 
“If you don’t feel like it, we could always fight to get you in the mood.” It was a threat if he ever said one, he wasn’t feeling all that patient. He wasn’t sure if the rebellion was because he was still loyal to Aizen, or if he didn’t fully believe Ichigo was stronger. It could just be that he didn’t like him, who knew?
 
Ulquiorra just blinked, breaking the tension, and slowly drew his sword. “Enclose, Murciélago.” Wings formed, horns arching from his forehead, his hair growing longer, wilder. Green reiatsu showering around the Espada. His release was strong, strong enough that the lower ranking Espada were oppressed by his mere transformation.
 
Ichigo was unaffected, as was Starrk, and Harribel. He ordered, “Keep going.”
 
Ulquiorra looked like he might refuse, then murmured, “Segunda Etapa.” The explosion of power was immense, every arrancar present straining against his power. His wings lengthened, his tail curling around him like a deadly whip. His transformation was as impressive as he remembered, his reiatsu curling around him in thick streaks of blackened green.
 
Once upon a time, this form had truly made him despair, but now, it only made him smile. Yes,

Ulquiorra was strong

. He really did look monstrous like this.
 
Ichigo noted that all the Espada but Starrk and Harribel showed signs of fear, and he couldn’t blame them. The gap in power between them and himself was uncertain, but they could feel the difference between their own power and Ulquiorra's, and it was vast. “This is what a second release looks and feels like. Don’t forget it.”
 
Ulquiorra flexed his hand, studying Ichigo. He looked ready to attack, but Ichigo wasn’t concerned. He disappeared, none of the Espada able to follow his movement, and the trench knife was at Ulquiorra’s throat. “That will be all, primera.”
 
Ulquiorra’s eyes widened, and for a split second he wondered if he would defy him. Then the moment passed and he let his release state go. His reiatsu dropped off, his Zanpakuto forming in his palm. He sheathed it, his eyes on Ichigo the entire time.
 
Ichigo’s tone was flat, but it still held approval. “Thank you, Ulquiorra.” He turned his back on him, sheathing his own sword. The meaning behind that was clear; I do not fear you. He didn’t have reiatsu the others could feel, it made it hard for them to remember he was stronger.
 
He asked, “How did you achieve it?” He could only make educated guesses; he might have been born with a hollow, but he was still very different from arrancar.
 
Ulquiorra’s hands returned to his pockets. “I destroyed my mask.”
 
Grimmjow said, “That’s suicide! Destroying your mask would kill you.” Ulquiorra leveled a condescending look at the Espada, because he was clearly still alive.
 
Ichigo had noticed the lack of fragments. He’d looked less like an arrancar and more like him. Ulquiorra looked back at Ichigo. “That form of yours is similar, is it not?
 
“I’m a bit different.” He didn’t think any of them could argue that point, and he couldn’t explain without dropping hints to the fact he was

still alive

. Human-ish. “I accept my mask to become stronger, I don’t destroy it.”
 
Harribel said, “Show me.”
 
It was the first time she’d truly expressed motivation to get stronger, and Ichigo didn’t feel like he should deny her the chance to see. “Sure. Although, I’m not sure how helpful it will be when you can’t sense my reiatsu.”
 
She might have been the one to voice interest, but all the Espada seemed invested.
 
He closed his eyes.

Think we can go back a step without letting it all come apart?

Che

.
 
He took that to be a yes, but he still went slowly, carefully, his power slipping away in shreds of dark reiatsu. His mask reformed over his face, power lessened, but still plenty to deal with any unruly Espada.
 
He opened his eyes, pleased he’d managed this form without having to start from scratch to build it up. It wasn’t as stable as he was when he merged with Zangetsu, but it was leagues better than how he’d fared when he first used it.
 
Starrk commented. “You’re weaker like this.”
 
He smiled, not that they could see it. He was genuinely pleased. “So you can feel that? That’s good.” Starrk had potential, it was just a bit of a shame he had no reason to want to build on it.
 
He explained, “In this form I’m simply using my mask. For arrancar, you discard it. I think we’re opposites, and our second form is a common ground.”
 
Szayel spoke up, eyes narrowed like it annoyed him that he couldn’t explain what he was seeing. “That analysis doesn’t appear to be wrong, but I can’t explain the hollow hole if what you claim is true. Are you really a shinigami?”

“Don’t humor the fucker.”

He’s raising a good point.

He had to begrudgingly admit that.
 
“Sharp. This is only a much weaker version of my second form. At one point in time, all I had was the mask. Limiting my power that much is too difficult. If I was ever severely weakened, it might only manifest as a mask.”

“Like that would ever fucking happen.”

Don’t be arrogant.

He addressed them all. “Now if you’ve seen enough, this isn’t easy.” He was trash at regulating his power, you didn’t need to be a genius to see that.
 
No one stopped him, so he saw no reason to continue holding back that dam of power. He let out a slow breath.

Now to go back.

This was good practice, especially since failure would be catastrophic.
 
His energy spiked, and even if they couldn’t feel it, he could tell it raised their hackles to see his energy contained around him in physical form. His mask dissolved, his power sinking back into his bones. Zangetsu was pulled back to the surface of his mind, close enough to touch.
 
He met Harribel’s eyes. “Helpful?”
 
She was studying him intently. “Yes.” Any potential debate over his strength seemed settled as well.
 
“I expect all of you to train.” He gave Starrk a sharp look when he groaned. “

We’ll talk.

” He knew the Espada didn’t want more power, but he might be able to convince him to try, or at the very least practice control with him, since they could both use it.
 
He continued, his eyes lingering on all of them. “As far as I’m aware, Ulquiorria and I are the first to achieve this. There aren’t rules, guidelines, it’s up to you to figure it out. You

need

to get stronger. Aizen made you arrancar, then didn’t allow you to grow. He didn’t let you fight, did he?” He knew he hadn’t, Aizen had forbidden the Espada to fight one another.
 
He remembered what Kisuke told him, what Aizen pounded into his soul. “The only way for a soul to grow stronger is to experience the fear of termination. I can give you that if that’s what you need.”
 
They looked thoughtful, casting their eyes from Ulquiorra then back to him. “Train your fraccion if you have one, spar with each other, with me. I won’t allow you to be weak.”

“You sure they won’t just kill each other?”

They want power, for one reason or another. They can do this, they’ll evolve.

“Syazel.”

We can’t.

“King.”

We watch the sadistic fuck. Closely. We can’t kill him for no reason.

“You’re dismissed.” He shot Harribel a look, letting her know that order wasn’t for her, she could do what she wanted.
 
He called, “Grimmjow.” The Espada stopped mid turn, his face twisting into an even deeper scowl. He hung back, the Espada around him disappearing in a burst of sonido. Harribel left as well, leaving them standing atop the dome alone.
 
“What do you want?”
 
“Of the Espada, you have the most potential. You have a strong desire to fight, to win. You have good instincts.”
 
Grimmjow just glowered, blues eyes burning.
 
“Those are nice eyes.” The Espada hated him, he was already obsessed with beating him. That was good. “I want you to be my fraccion.”
 
His eyes widened in shock. “What?!”
 
Ichigo found his surprise to be amusing. “You want to kill me, you don’t know when to shut the fuck up; You’re perfect.”
 
“Fuck you!”
 
Ichigo laughed, and that action alone prompted Grimmjow to draw his sword. Ichigo didn’t reach for his sword, he didn’t need it. “You want to be King, right? You want to stand at the top.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t move other than to shift into a stance. He growled, “Fuck you, White.”
 
It was strange to heard him call him by a different name, but being on the other end of Grimmjow’s fury was a familiar experience. “You’re starting to repeat yourself.”
 
Grimmjow rushed forward, slashing with blinding speed, but Ichigo was faster. He dodged, enraging Grimmjow further. It was all the proof the cat needed to know he was thoroughly outclassed. He caught his sword in his fist over his head, jerking the blade down, pulling Grimmjow closer. He hissed, “Don’t waste my time.”
 
Ichigo let go of his sword, watching the Espada skip back to release his sword, fingers digging into the blade. “Grind, Pantera!”
 
Their fight continued with Ichigo dodging and gently countering Grimmjow. Gentle by his standards. Throwing him back still carved gouges out of the dome of Las Noches.
 
He appeared behind him, gripping his shoulder and shoving him forward. Grimmjow staggered and whirled, only to find Ichigo’s hand on his throat. He froze on instinct, eyes widening.
 
Ichigo made his point. He let him go, asking, “What do you expect to happen?”
 
Grimmjow leapt back, even if the distance between them didn’t much matter. “The fuck do you mean?”
 
“When you get to the top, when you’re the best, the strongest?” Grimmjow grit his teeth, not offering him any kind of a response. “It’s not all it’s chalked up to be.”
 
Grimmjow recovered, slashing with his claws for his throat. He snarled when it became apparent he had only slashed through his afterimage. “Stop moving!”
 
“Get faster.” He drew the trench knife, humoring Grimmjow. He kept dodging his attacks, but now he started shallowly cutting him as he passed, punishing failure. Zangetsu’s desire to draw blood was strong, he couldn’t ignore it, but he could go easy on the bloodshed.

“Don’t go too easy on him, King.”

He’s not healed yet. I could beat the shit out of him now, or piss him off and fight him longer. Letting him rage works out in the long term.

Grimmjow shouted, “Would you rather be weak?!”
 
Ichigo smiled, disappearing to strike him with the back of his blade in the lower back. The Espada crumpled, falling to his knees and gasping in pain. “Not even close. I’m just telling you, you still won’t be satisfied.” He stood over him and ordered. “Get up.”
 
Grimmjow spun as he stood, raking his claws towards his gut. Ichigo caught his wrist, stopping him short. He ducked under the strike from his other hand, wrenching him around and flipping him to his back. He let go, Grimmjow gasping for air on the ground.
 
Ichigo crouched over him, his blade just a hair’s breath from his forehead. He let it touch the armor there, cracking it under his reiatsu. “You

will

get stronger. You’re going to fight me every day, until you can actually manage to cut me. I’m going to beat the fuck out of you, Grimmjow. Hate me, curse me, despise me, that’s fine.

Get stronger.

” Grimmjow didn’t move or acknowledge the blade pressed to his forehead, he just glared.
 
Ichigo let him up, pulling his sword away, and their fight continued. He didn’t hit that hard, but he hit him a lot, and after a good long while, Grimmjow couldn’t hold his resurreccion. His movements grew sluggish, but he was determined to keep fighting, even if the results were rather pathetic. He only stopped when Grimmjow couldn’t get up any more. He was a tired, bloody wreck, but he’d live, it looked much worse than it actually was.
 
The arrancar panted, lying flat on his back and growled, “I hate you.”
 
Ichigo smirked. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
 
He sheathed his sword, reaching down and hoisting him up to drape him over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

He felt his claws rake over his back, but there was no way he’d get through his hierro.
 
“Calm down, kitty.” He flashed forward with sonido, the sudden rush of speed and wind knocking the air out of Grimmjow’s lungs. It was also a convenient deterrent from the angry Espada destroying his shihakusho. Stubborn little shit.
 
He took him to the med wing, unfortunately knowing exactly where it was. He dumped Grimmjow on the ground on his back, the Espada grunting in pain. The few arrancar medics present jumped, startled, then bowed. He drawled, “Stop groveling. Fix him.”
 
They hopped to it, and when one knelt by Grimmjow to heal him, the Espada lashed out. Ichigo was on him in a heartbeat, flattening his forearm underfoot before he could complete his swipe. He warned,

“Be still.”

He leaned hard enough to grind bones together, and to his credit, Grimmjow didn’t cry out or fight back.
 
The arrancar Grimmjow had nearly attacked was shaking like a leaf. He ordered, “Keep going. He won’t hurt you.”
 
The order snapped them out of it, more afraid of him than they were of the Espada. Grimmjow finally stopped fighting, and he let up off of his arm. Ichigo supervised, watching as the arrancar healed most of the superficial damage, though there was no replacing his spent reiatsu. It was slow going, and nowhere near as good as what Orihime could do, but it was passable.
 
Grimmjow glared at him the entire time, and Ichigo pretended not to notice. He finally backed off, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall. He waited until Grimmjow had enough energy to get up. The Espada growled under his breath, scaring the medics away as he struggled to stand.
 
Satisfied some random numeros wouldn’t be able to steal an opportunistic kill on the Espada, Ichigo turned to leave.
 
“Hey, where the fuck are you goin’!”
 
He glanced back, but didn’t stop. “I’ve got better things to do than babysit you.”
 
“Asshole, we’re not done!”
 
“We’re not. I’ll see you tomorrow, Grimmjow.” He stepped into sonido, leaving the Espada behind.

“Stubborn prick. You really going to let him keep talkin’ to ya like that?”

If it makes him feel better, who cares? We both know I’m stronger.

Grimmjow was one of the few Espada he didn’t think had the personality to improve rapidly on his own. He lived and breathed violence, training on his own wasn’t going to make him stronger, not unless he had some sort of grudge against sand.
 
Now to convince the laziest and most unwilling Espada to train. Joy.

--- xxx ---
  
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Ichigo tracked down Starrk, and to the surprise of no one, he was sleeping. After the same song and dance, Starrk was sitting up, frowning at him, but listening. Ichigo sat down too, not wanting to talk down at him. Lilynette was sitting cross-legged beside him, scowling at Ichigo, but she hadn’t attacked him. Progress.
 
Starrk said, “I don’t want to fight.”
 
He raised a brow. “And I promised you wouldn’t have to, didn’t I?”
 
“So what do you want?”
 
Ichigo said, “You and I have a similar problem.” Starrk’s eyes narrowed, but he was listening well enough. “We’re shit at controlling our reiatsu. You can’t even stand around weaker hollows without killing them, can you?”
 
Seems he hit a nerve, but he didn’t stop to spare his feelings. “You can learn to suppress your reiatsu. You can learn control.”
 
“Can I?”
 
“If

I

can, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to.” Starrk looked uncertain, and Ichigo sighed. “Yes. That’s a yes, Starrk.”
 
Lilynette asked, “How?”
 
He looked at her. He knew the girl was a part of Starrk’s soul, but how he’d managed that, and how she’d become a part of his power was unknown. “You’re living proof. If you had no control over your power, she wouldn’t even exist.”
 
He looked back at Starrk, whose expression was caught somewhere between doubt and hope. “We were both born strong, we don’t have the instinct to reel our power in, it takes conscious effort to do so, and it doesn’t feel right, but it’s possible.”
 
Starrk was still listening, so Ichigo continued. “So. Will you practice with me?”
 
Starrk looked at Lilynette, brows drawn when he looked back. He seemed dubious at best. “I can’t even sense your reiatsu, not really. No one can. Does it matter?”
 
“It does. Lacking control isn’t a good thing, and the fact most can’t sense it only means I’m getting lazy.”
 
Starrk looked back at Lilynette, thinking a moment. “If I agree, that’s all? You’ll show me how to supress my power?”
 
Ichigo said, “I can help. You’re one of the few people I can practice this around without hurting them, I won’t pretend this isn’t also a favor for me.”
 
Starrk leaned forward on his knees. “Fine. Teach me how.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
A couple of hours later, and Starrk understood the basic principle. Pulling your reiatsu in close, stamping it down and smothering it wasn’t easy, or fun. For them, anyway, but it was a good start. When he lowered his reiatsu, even though Lilynette was weak, she was also a part of Starrk, and the smothering power didn’t bother her as much as it should have.
 
He left the pair alone, his day still not done. It was hard to tell time in that place, but he felt like it was probably night in the human world.
 
He went to Syazel’s lab. He didn’t want to, but this was an overdue discussion. Just standing in the hallway made him want to throw up, but he buried that weakness, boxing it up inside of him until all he felt was rage.
 
He knew the scientist was watching, so he didn’t bother venturing any further. He folded his arms and waited, knowing the lab wasn’t so big the arrancar couldn’t unreasonably be there in a minute or so.
 
After his earlier threats, Szayel didn’t drag his feet. The scientist met him in the hall, keeping his distance, for what little good it did him. He could feel fear in his reiatsu, and all it did was make him want to tear his heart out. He let out a breath, shoving the urge away. Calm. “There you are. We need to talk.”
 
Szayel’s hands tightened into fists. “About?”
 
He waved a hand at the building. “About what you’re up to. About Aizen’s standing orders. About anything you might have found after I killed him.”
 
Szayel pushed up his glasses, folding his arms. It seemed less of an arrogant gesture, and one that might simply have been to comfort himself. “I can assure you-”
 
He disappeared from his line of sight, appearing behind him. “Just tell me what you’re doing, Szayel.” It was a gentle threat. He was in no mood for games or lies, and he’d know if he was lying.
 
The scientist stiffened, forcing himself to turn slowly. “Have I done something to offend you, heika?”

“Exist.”

Kissing his ass wasn’t going to earn Szayel any points, but the arrancar wasn’t stupid, he could see he was being singled out.
 
He leaned against the wall, folding his arms. “No. I just don’t like you.” He saw no reason to lie, and more pointedly, he didn’t want to.
 
The arrancar was sweating, aware there was very little he could do to defend himself if he chose to end his life. “I see.”
 
“You want to live? Answer my questions, and tell the truth.”
 
Szayel swallowed. “I have hundreds of experiments, surely you don’t want to hear about all of them?”

Smartass

. “Use your judgement.”
 
“Aizen named me top researcher and spiritual weapon specialist. If observed, I have the ability to nullify power, with preparation. I’m working on nullifying bankai.”
 
“

Won't work against us anymore, shithead.”

He didn’t think it would, no. Even in the past, such a thing only worked when he was weak.
 
Szayel continued, “Most of my experiments are geared towards shinigami and hollows, do you wish that to change?”
 
For the time being, that was appropriate. “How are you gathering data on shinigami?”
 
“I have bugs I send through a garganta. They observe and report.”
 
Ichigo thought about that, wondering if he was missing any loopholes. “That’s fine. As long as you aren’t tearing apart any humans or shinigami.”
 
Szayel defended, “It’s difficult to study something without first taking it apart.”
 
Arguing? Ichigo pushed off from the wall to stand before him. “If you’re going to tear someone up, get approval.”
 
“Even hollows?”
 
“If it’s not powerful, do what you want.” He actually didn’t care, he didn’t have a lot of empathy for hollows. It was kill or be killed, and if Szayel snatched up a weak adjuchas, so be it. “I don’t want to find out you’ve been making mincemeat of useful adjuchas or low level arrancar, Szayel.”
 
“I wouldn’t cut into the ranks.” He seemed offended he’d even suggested it.
 
Ichigo warned, “Not even if they offend your sensibilities.”
 
“Of course not.” And he said that like it was common sense. He’d seen what he did with his clones and his victims; disgusting psycho.
 
Ichigo asked, “You never answered me. Did Aizen leave anything behind?”
 
Szayel stiffened a little, eyes narrowing. “Nothing of value, he didn’t trust me.”
 
How shocking.

“He doesn’t look like he’s lying. I don’t think the fucker has it.”

Neither do I.

“Sure as shit wouldn’t be shaking in his boots every time we looked at him if he did.”

He wasn’t sure if he should prioritize a task for him. He didn’t want him around at all, but he might as well be useful. “Are you monitoring travel between Hueco Mundo and other worlds?”
 
Szayel frowned, though Ichigo could only guess what the disapproval originated from. He said, “No.”
 
Ichigo ordered, “Do that. It’s a big desert, but do what you can. I want to know when anything more powerful than a menos crosses worlds.” It was a tall order, monitoring so much space, accurately, would keep him busy.
 
Szayel bent in a bow. “I’ll see to it.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes lingered on his neck, his spine, his pupils contracting. He stepped closer too quickly to track, his claws tracing Szayel’s spine. The arrancar stiffened, feeling the way he trembled. His fingers flinched away. No. He still needed him. His voice was soft, hiding the anger and chaos he felt. “Don’t disappoint me.”
 
He disappeared, running with every ounce of speed he had. He was a good ways into the desert when he stopped. He was good and alone, so he screamed, doubling over, hands clenched into fists. He wanted to destroy his surroundings, but it would be far too destructive, even at this distance.
 
His voice, his hands on his skin-He spun, slashing at nothing. When had he drawn his sword? It was fine. Aizen was dead, Szayel wasn’t a threat. He shuddered, tasting bile. He couldn’t show weakness, no weakness. Calm. Calm.

Calm down

.

“King.”

He sucked in a breath, looking down at Zangetsu. Eyes still wild, he sheathed his sword, turning in a circle to satisfy himself he was alone.

“Calm down, yer alone.”

He let out a shaky breath. He’d been so close to killing him. So close.
 
The false sun cast his shadow over the dune, and he turned away from it. Was he disappointed? Yes. But mostly in himself. He was better than this, he wouldn’t let fear rule him. “No.”
 
He hd no idea who he was talking to. Himself, the world, Zangetsu?
 
He headed back to Las Noches, his hands at his sides. He walked until he was calm, his heart slowed to a comfortable pace. Then he used sonido to traverse the rest of the way, losing patience once he’d calmed down.
 
It was probably pointless, but he decided he should search Aizen's quarters. He doubted there would be anything worth noting, but it would be stupid not to at least look.
 
He could sense Aizen’s reiatsu in areas he'd frequented like the throne rooms and quarters. It had sunk into the reishi thick walls and had yet to dissipate. It was odd to sense him so strongly when he knew he was dead, it would probably take years for reiatsu that was so dense to fully disappear.
 
He walked to his room, in no real hurry to get there. He ignored the arrancar he passed, and it seemed they were just a touch less jumpy than they were before.
 
He stopped in front of his door, wondering if he'd laid traps to prevent any nosy Espada from wandering in. He put his hand in the door and nothing happened.
 
“

Who cares if there's traps?”

I don't like making bombs go boom in my face.

“Psh. You'll live.”

Still not a good reason.

He pushed the door open slowly, and still nothing happened. He stepped inside, a bit hesitant. Nothing. He muttered, “Did that arrogant sonofabitch really just leave the door open?”
 
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, flinching when he noticed he wasn’t alone in the room. Their reiatsu was so low, he almost hadn’t noticed them. A dark haired arrancar sat up, pigtails mussed, a mask fragment on the left side of her face. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she had been crying. What was her name?

“Loly.”

Weren’t there two?

A blonde arrancar peeked over the side of the bed, staring at Ichigo, wide eyed.

There she is.

“Ain’t those the arrancar that beat the princess.”

Ah. The worst kind of malice comes from jealous children.

Loly’s expression twisted in rage. “You can’t be here! This is Aizen-sama’s room!”
 
He could have asked why

she

was there, but trampling on her feelings wasn’t going to help anything. “He’s dead, I don’t think he’ll mind.”
 
She made an agonized sound, drawing her sword and leaping from the bed. He caught her downward strike, surprising her.
 
Melony snapped, “Loly! It’s him, he’s the one that killed Aizen.” She wasn’t angry, she was afraid, looking to the door and to Loly, fearing for her life.

Just what I needed.

Loly tried to punch him, and he caught her hook with his other hand, sighing. “Stand down. I don’t want to kill you.” He didn’t think they had been there when he’d spoken to all the arrancar. Had they been moping this entire time?
 
She squirmed in his grip and screamed. “I’ll never forgive you!”
 
Melony was just a bit closer, considering making a break for the door. She called, “Loly!”
 
He dropped her, but not her Zanpakuto. The arrancar landed on her feet and spread her stance to attack. Ichigo tossed her Zanpakuto, embedding it to the hilt in the far wall. He said, “Listen to your friend and stand down.”
 
She screeched, “She’s not my friend!”
 
Melony’s brows furrowed, distraught. “Loly…”
 
He frowned. “Okay then. Your nakama; the arrancar sticking her neck out for your dumb ass.”
 
“Shut up!” Loly looked enraged, but he knew that kind of rage. She lunged for him again, but this time he didn’t move to stop her. He let her hit him, and for all intents and purposes, she could have been beating a wall. “I HATE YOU!”
 
Melony had edged toward the door, but stopped and watched Loly like she couldn’t believe she was still alive.
 
Ichigo let her wear herself out, positive the only reason she hadn’t hit him with a cero yet was because she didn’t want to destroy the room.
 
She kept screaming obscenities, but to her credit, she didn’t cry. He had no idea why she cared about that prick so much, but it wouldn’t hurt anything to let her hold on to a false memory. Maybe that was cruel, or maybe it was mercy, he wasn’t sure. He could only think of Hinamori, wondering why the prick had such a good time twisting young girls into thinking they loved him. He asked, “Done yet?”
 
She tried and failed to shove him. “Why won’t you fight back?”
 
He glanced at Melony, surprised she was still there. “I’m not in the habit of kicking people when they’re down.” He looked back. “Aizen had to die. You don’t have to be happy about it, you can hate me all you like, but stop sulking.”
 
She demanded, “How could you kill him? He was strong.”
 
“I’m stronger.” She seemed to be circling back to denial, and he didn’t want to be a punching bag all night. “Go.”
 
She was adamant. “You can’t be here, this is Aizen-sama’s room.”
 
He huffed, then repeated himself, putting more steel behind his voice. “

Go

.” This time he lowered his reiatsu, the pair freezing up in fear. It was only for an instant, but that was enough. They left the second their legs would hold them, leaving him in the room alone.

They’re arrancar, but it still doesn’t feel good

.
 
“

Think the bitch will be a problem?”

Probably not, she’s not all that strong.

Then he finally got around to searching the room. Aizen was smart, but he had been exceedingly arrogant. If he hid something, it was probably in plain sight.
 
He searched for any sort of kidou or otherwise, for any sign of the Hogyoku, but found nothing. It had been wishful thinking, but with his luck if he hadn’t looked, it would turn out it was there all along.
 
He went to the balcony, leaning on the railing. Aizen’s quarters were on the edge of Las Noches, the impressive view overlooking the dark and cold desert. He wondered why Aizen had gone through the trouble of putting the artificial sky in the dome if he didn’t even want to look at it. He muttered, “What a weird fucking guy.”

“You don’t have to tell me, King.”

He stood there for awhile, enjoying the silence, but was interrupted by the least likely of the Espada. “Ulquiorra.”
 
The Espada stood in the doorway for a long moment, then joined him on the balcony. Ulquiorra looked at him and asked, “What are you doing in Aizen’s room?” It sounded like he was genuinely curious. Or confused. It was difficult to read the Espada.
 
He didn’t look away from the desert, telling him the truth. “Looking for something. Didn’t find it.”
 
“I see.”
 
They stood in silence for a long time, and Ichigo wondered why it didn’t feel awkward or strained. He talked when it was expected of him, but he’d always been the quiet sort. Not as quiet at Chad, but being in Hueco Mundo for so long had shifted his perspective.
 
He wasn’t afraid of the Espada, he wasn’t sure what he felt toward him. It wasn’t pity, or anger...perhaps regret? Ulquiorra asked, “ You know things that you shouldn’t. Why are you here?”
 
He didn’t think he was asking about the room, it sounded like he expected a real answer. “I have a lot of reasons. I know what happened, and I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I can guess; I won’t be a slave to the future. Things will be different this time.” Ulquiorra was staring at him. “I’m not crazy.” He didn’t think he was.

Am I crazy?

“You do talk to yourself.”

Noted.

He looked back out at the desert. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m not a shinigami, I’m not an arrancar, but I can do the most

here

. So here I am, guiding what I set in motion.” He asked. “Is it arrogant, or foolish, to try to change fate?”
 
Ulquiorra didn’t hesitate to answer. “Foolish.”
 
He smiled, “Then call me a fool.”
 
The silence stretched again, but Ulquiorra didn’t leave. He wouldn’t say his company was nice, per se, but it was nice not to be alone. He finally pushed away from the railing, aware he should try to at least nap before he met with the shinigami. “I’d like to train with you, soon.”
 
Ulquiorra turned to watch him, but didn’t argue.
 
“You have a lot of power, but not much control. No one is strong enough to fight you, but I can.” He left him with that, leaving the Espada standing alone on the balcony.
 
He wandered the halls and found an empty room, running a short and simple kidou spell through the walls to be sure any hidden cameras were destroyed. He was proud of himself for not accidently destroying the room, but it was worth the risk to know he wouldn’t be watched. Better safe than sorry.
 
He wasn’t thrilled about sleeping in what still felt like enemy territory, but he didn’t have time to be running around through gargantas if he wanted to get any sleep at all. He fell back flat on the bed and frowned up at the horns. “I couldn’t be a less spiky hollow, could I?”

“What would you prefer, being comfortable or intimidating?”

Can I not have both?

He frowned up at the flat white ceiling, Zangetsu’s instincts front and center in his consciousness, so there was no need to switch.

“Relax, King. If you use a cero in your sleep, cross your fingers and hope it hits Syazel. Or Aaroniero.”

He missed ossan’s reassuring voice, but when he was like this, the old man was always quiet.

Shut up and let me sleep.

Zangetsu reminded him.

“I ain’t the thing keeping you awake.”

He didn’t need the reminder. He rolled over onto his side, facing the door, and closed his eyes. His senses blanketed the area around him, filtering through reishi for any sign of reiatsu. He was always on his guard, it just depended how much.
 
Time passed, and he wasn’t aware of when he fell asleep, just that he was jolted awake. Time was relative in Hueco Mundo, it was always night, so he had no idea how much time had passed. What woke him up?
 
“

Grimmjow

.”
 
Sure as shit, he felt his reiatsu just down the hall.

Motherfucker. How the fuck did he even find me?

He got up in time for Grimmjow to blow the wall open with a low powered cero. Debris disintegrated on the reiatsu he gathered around him, and he stood with a frown. There was stubborn and then there was suicidal.

Is he serious?!

“You were

actually

asleep, I’m fucking pissed. Let me out.”

There was plenty of dust from that cero, he still couldn’t see him, but he could sense him. Grimmjow called out, “White! I know you’re here, I can smell you.”

His sense of smell is that good? Of fucking course it is.

“Let me out!”

You know what, whatever, do what you want. Just don’t kill him.

Zangetsu took control, and in a heartbeat, his hand was around Grimmjow’s throat. Dust swirled around him, disturbed by his speed. “I ain't hidin’.”
 
Grimmjow lashed out, but Zangetsu blocked his his forearm, flipping Grimmjow over to slam him flat on his back. He dragged their reiatsu down to his level, holding him down with the weight of their power. They'd been holding back so much before, and here was undeniable proof of their differences in skill.
 
Grimmjow struggled to breathe, let alone stand up. Zangetsu was tempted to cut him up, but he knew King would pitch a fit if they had to babysit the Espada in the med wing again.
 
He growled, “For reference,

I

call on

you

, not the other way around.”
 
Grimmjow struggled under the pressure, but his expression bordered on confusion. “Who the fuck are

you

?”
 
He let go of his throat, crouched over him. He noticed they were different, that was new. “You can tell? I'm flattered.” Ichigo felt Zangetsu’s manic smile stretch his face, and if there was any questioning that they were different, now it would be obvious.

Way to go, now they’ll think we’re crazy.

“

Too late for that, King.”

Zangetsu only increased the pressure, figuring if he could swear, there wasn't enough. “I'm King’s less understanding side. You woke him up.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “So what?”
 
Zangetsu hauled him up by a fistful of his jacket, like a kitten by the scruff. Under so much pressure, Grimmjow could barely breathe, let alone move. “No sleep makes us short tempered.” He let up on his reiatsu so abruptly that when he let Grimmjow go, he staggered. He didn’t bother with his sword, he simply drew back his fist and punched him in the face.
 
He hit him hard enough to send him flying back into the wall, cracking it under the impact. Blood gushed down Grimmjow’s face from his nose. Not broken, but close. The Espada pushed off from the wall with a groan, but didn’t have time to recover before Zangetsu’s fist was in his stomach. The arrancar doubled over, dry heaving. His legs buckled when Zangetsu pulled his fist back. He coughed, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand.. “Who...the fuck are you?”
 
“I told ya’, I’m a part of King.” He gripped his hair in a clawed hand, throwing him down the hallway. He didn’t throw him all that hard, he only skid a few feet before he could attempt to get up. He was on top of him before he could manage it, his foot on his throat. “King likes ya more than I do, or I’d beat you until you couldn’t get up. I don’t enjoy this, it’s pathetic.”
 
He let up, turning to stalk away.
 
Grimmjow growled, hoarse. “You runnin’ away?”
 
Zangetsu paused. “Learn to fuckin quit when you’re ahead, dumbass!”

“Honestly, there’s stubborn and then there’s stupid, King. You sure about this one? I think it’s broke.”

I’m sure. Would I tolerate half this shit if I wasn’t?

Grimmjow struggled to his feet and shouted, “Stop looking down on me!”
 
“Is that what this is about?” He turned back and growled under his breath. “Prideful little fuck…”
 
He stepped back before him with sonido, his hair and shihakusho swirling around him. “King sees something in you that I don’t, he’s trying to help you, you stupid fuck.”
 
“I didn’t ask for his help!”
 
Zangetsu smiled, so wide it hurt. “Annoying, ain’t it?” He chuckled, the sound not entirely pleasant. “King meddles, it’s what he does. Suck it up and accept it, all he needs in return is a little bit of

goddamned sleep

. You have no idea how hard it is to get the fucker to

sleep

, and

you woke him up

.” Grimmjow just stared at him so he demanded, “Is that too much to ask?”
 
Grimmjow’s expression was murderous, but he didn’t argue. “No.”
 
“Now fuck off, before I decide to break bones.” He turned away, and Grimmjow didn’t follow.

“It’s the small victories that matter, right? Maybe the idiot is finally learning.”

Not fast enough if he thinks this is productive.

He asked,

What time do you think it is?

“Didn’t geta-boshi give you a phone?”

Ichigo reasserted control, stopped in his tracks, then reached into his pocket. His fingers curled around the flip phone, eyes widening. He’d completely forgotten about it.

“You need sleep, King.”

It was a small thing, but a big one. What else was he forgetting? “Shit.”
 
He pulled the phone out, the display shining the time and date back at him, along with a background of a character to some show he’d never seen. Fucking Kisuke, always making a point to ruin his image.
 
10:32am.
 
He had some time, but not too much. Maybe it was for the best that Grimmjow had woken him up?

“I’ve seen you with no sleep, King, it ain’t pretty.”

His brows furrowed. “Shut up.” There was no force behind it. He wasn’t annoyed at Zangetsu, but everything else.
 
He pressed the phone and the back of his hand to his forehead, letting out a slow breath. Calm. His reiatsu steadied, not that anyone but Zangetsu could feel it. He pocketed the phone again.
 
He stood there for a minute. Two.

“King.”

He blinked, torn from his thoughts, and opened a garganta.
 
He returned to Karakura, taking a few different doors so he wouldn’t be tracked. The moment he stepped foot in the city, he dropped his hollow power, feeling much more human afterwards.
 
He returned to Kisuke’s shop, noting Renji and Rukia were gone. From what Kisuke told him, it sounded like they had been called back rather abruptly. That didn’t bode well.
 
Kisuke asked, “What will you do, Kurosaki-san, if things go South?”
 
“Try my best not to fight.”
 
He asked, “Is that practical?”
 
Ichigo looked at him, then shrugged. “I might not know them here, but I

knew

them. I won’t fight them if I don’t have to.”
 
“I see.” He tapped his fan on his shoulder, eyes cast down in thought. “What about Hirako-san?”
 
“Haven’t had time to go talk to them again. Things could go either way.” Ichigo folded his arms and leaned against the wall, resting his head against it. He closed his eyes and said, “I didn’t find the Hogyoku.”
 
They both knew what that meant. Either it was well hidden, or it had already been found. Kisuke didn’t humor that announcement with a response, filing the information away for later. He asked, “How are you, Kurosaki-san?”
 
“Tired.”
 
The silence dragged on a moment, then Kisuke said, “You know where to find me. Good luck.” He had no idea where Kisuke went when he wasn't in the shop, but he doubted he was idle.
 
He hummed, mentally scanning the city for signs of a senkaimon. He knew Kisuke would help him if he needed it, and he knew he wouldn’t get in the way. “Ah, thanks.”
 
Kisuke left, he had no idea to where, but that left him alone in the shoten. The minutes ticked by quickly while he leaned there against the wall, and it was all too soon that he felt a senkaimon open above the city. The distance alone was a precautionary one on their part. That didn’t bode too well. He’d gone in his human body before, but he didn’t intend to do that now.
 
He stepped outside, hands on his hips, and stretched with a yawn. He really was tired, but not so tired some adrenaline wouldn’t sharpen his instincts.
 
He narrowed his eyes, bending his knees, and disappeared in a flurry of reishi. He crossed the distance to the center of town in an instant, noting that this time, they sent just about everyone. Didn’t he feel special.
 
He kept his hands at his sides, he wouldn’t have it said he started the fight. He narrowed his eyes, keeping his power close at hand.
 
Across from him stood Hitsugaya, Byakuya, Ukitake, Kyoraku, Kenpachi, and to his surprise, Gin.
 
Shunsui broke the tension. “Bad news, kid.”
 
He always expected bad news.

--- xxx ---
  
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Old Espada

0 (cero) Yammy

-deceased-

2 (segunda) Barragan

-deceased-

5 (Quinto) Nnoitra

-deceased-

Luppi

-deceased-

Numeros

Nakeem Grindina

-deceased-

Privaron Espada

Cirucci

-deceased-

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Across from him stood Hitsugaya, Byakuya, Ukitake, Kyoraku, Kenpachi, and to his surprise, Gin.

Shunsui broke the tension. “Bad news, kid.”

He always expected bad news.

Shunsui didn't look happy, none of them did. He wasn’t sure if that was because they were aware of their odds or if they weren’t thrilled about following their orders. “Despite your role in neutralizing a dangerous traitor, Yamamoto soutaichou denies your claim to Hueco Mundo, and declines to acquiesce to your demands.”
 
Ichigo wasn't all that surprised, but he couldn’t deny he had been hopeful. In this timeline, he was even more of a monster, and he didn't have the years of trust that he'd built up with his friends. He only had a few days of common ground, if that; it wasn't shocking he was seen as a threat.
 
His voice was carefully neutral, it stung to face down his friends. “Yeah...that's about what I expected.” He’d killed Aizen, but none of them truly understood what he’d saved them from. They didn’t remember, but he did.
 
Shunsui’s eyes narrowed. “You're still a shinigami, albeit an unorthodox one, and therefore subject to the laws of Soul Society. You can come with us peaceably, or we’ll be forced to take you into custody.”
 
He asked, “On what charges?”
 
He rattled off dryly, “Unauthorized travel to Hueco Mundo, the unlawful disruption of power of Hueco Mundo, the treasonous-”
 
“Alright, alright, I get it.” He was done at the word ‘treason’. He still had trouble taking the law all that seriously. He’d been breaking Soul Society’s rules since before he had a proper Zanpakuto. Maybe this time it was a mite more serious, but he’d always had a problem with authority, and he always had a reason.
 
Ichigo sighed, looking over the captains. “For what it’s worth, I’ll still hold up my end to the best of my ability, even if you won’t. My threats,

and

my promises. You aren’t my enemy, but neither am I yours to command.”
 
He reached back for Zangetsu, his hand resting on the hilt, but he didn't draw it. All the captains tensed, everyone except Shunsui and Ukitake reaching for their Zanpakuto. He was aware it would be seen as a threat, but he wanted Zangetsu’s support, even if he knew he already had it.

Ready?

“

Always

.”
 
He said, “I’m not a shinigami...” He pulled on his hollow power, merging with Zangetsu, the transformation following more swiftly than usual. He liked the sharp edge of his instincts roiling beneath the surface, but he was drawing on his power so he could call on a garganta. Maybe one day he would be able to open one without being hollowfied, but today wasn’t that day.
 
He continued, his voice gaining the distinct echoing edge of Zangetsu. “...or a human, or a hollow.”
 
They hadn't seen this form yet, they seemed surprised, maybe even a little afraid. Kenpachi laughed, the only one of the group that seemed eager. A masked visored was one thing, but what appeared to be a fully hollowfied shinigami? That was new to them.
 
Everyone but Shunsui and Gin drew their sword, but Ichigo still didn't draw. “I'm

all

of these things.” And more, but they didn’t need any more reason not to trust him.
 
He took orders from no one; never again. Aizen and Soul Society had jerked him around his entire life, mapping out every one of his actions, whether he knew it or not. Maybe he really didn't know better, but he was responsible for his own actions now. He wouldn’t let them die.
 
He drew Zangetsu, slowly, cloth unfurling from the blade. He turning it in his hand, rested the back of the sword on his shoulder. He was unwilling to make the first move, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t defend himself. “

I refuse

.”
 
Shunsui finally reached for his Zanpakuto. “So this is how it’s going to be?”
 
“Guess so.” His eyes lingered on Gin, who had yet to draw. He was still smiling, the creep. He had to wonder what he was even doing there. It could simply be because he was one of their strongest captains. He’d hardly done anything wrong in this timeline, so with Central 46 dead, he probably got off with a slap on the wrist.
 
Since Gin was here, he had questions for him, and he was suddenly his priority. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but if anyone knew about Aizen’s Hogyoku, it was him. He’d intended to simply run away, but now he had to get Gin alone.
 
Ichigo’s eyes slid to Toshiro when the young taicho spoke. “You would save us a lot of trouble if you would surrender.”
 
“You know I can’t do that, Toshiro.”
 
He twitched. “That’s

Hitsugaya taicho.

”  
 
Ichigo didn’t humor that with a response. He waited for them to make the first move, but they seemed to be waiting on Shunsui. The captain pushed back his hat, readying himself to fight.
 
Shunsui stepped into shunpo, trying to get behind him to end it quickly. Ichigo turned to face him, lowering his sword, making it clear who was faster. They locked eyes, and instead of attempting to attack, Shunsui backed off.
 
Byakuya moved even before Shunsui backed off. His movements were as slow as they had appeared on Sokyoku Hill and Ichigo was on guard; they didn’t stand a chance.
 
He spun and caught Byakuya’s hand in his own, crushing whatever Kidou he intended to use with the force of his reiatsu. Byakuya’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting his attack to be negated, especially not in a way he couldn’t perceive.
 
Ichigo let go and Byakuya immediately put distance between them. He announced loudly. “I’m not going to fight.”
 
Kenpachi growled, disappointed.
 
Ukitake asked, “Why draw your Zanpakuto if you don’t intend to fight?”
 
Ichigo looked down at Zangetsu, then turned to face Ukitake. “I don’t need it to fight you, but I respect you.” They might not agree, but he respected them enough to draw his sword and meet them as equals.
 
Shunsui sighed. “You’re not making this easy, kid.”
 
“I still have things to do. Sorry.” He wasn’t all that sorry, he was just sorry this had to happen at all. If he was in their place, he would probably do the same.
 
Kenpachi decided he’d been patient enough, rushing forward to slash at him. “I don't really give a shit, I just came here to fight you again!”
 
He sidestepped, then took a swift step back, aided by sonido. He still swung his sword like a baseball bat. He was several yards away, and only as a deterrent to Kenpachi. The man hit like a nuke, but he wasn’t all that fast.
 
Hitsugaya drew his sword, and he couldn’t hear the release phrase with how far away he was, but he could read his lips. Byakuya did the same, letting his sword go as it filtered away into hundreds of petals. Both their shikai and bankai were most effective at capture, he had no doubt they had planned this.
 
The air grew several times colder, Byakuya’s petals converging on him from his right. He moved, appearing some distance away, but Toshiro was adept at using his shikai. The air around him instantly began to freeze.
 
He kept moving, and this time he didn’t pause, circling them with his fastest sonido. The air was disrupted by his speed, kicking up wind as sped up. They wouldn't be able to see much beyond his afterimage, if that. It was a distraction.
 
The captains went on the defensive, all except for Kenpachi. They stood in a loose circle, waiting for an opportunity. Kenpachi slashed at random, like a cat chasing a laser pointer. He got close, but he was still far too slow.
 
Toshiro took advantage of the fact he was moving in a predictable circle, as Ichigo had hoped. Toshiro swung his sword, sending out a massive wave of ice in all directions. No limiter then.
 
Spikes shot out into his path, crystallizing the air. He cut through the frozen pillar of ice in his immediate path, the force from his swing alone shattering everything behind it. Ice exploded into a million glittering shards, but the majority of Hitsugaya’s attack was still intact, forming a spiky, frozen barrier between them.
 
He sheathed Zangetsu, circling once to assess. Toshiro couldn’t quite complete a full sphere around the group without risking hitting his allies or freezing them to death, so he was forced to leave openings. Byakuya wasn’t an idiot, he’d covered some of the openings in Toshiro’s attack, but his blades couldn’t cut him, so it didn't matter.
 
He stepped out of shunpo straight above the group, then kicked off a platform of reishi, launching himself straight down. He hit Gin from above, grabbing him in a bear hug. He twisted so his back was to the ground and Byakuya’s shikai. He passed through the petals unscathed, then flipped, caught himself on a platform of reishi and ran, slipping into his fastest shunpo.
 
The scenery blurred past him, miles passing by in a single step, the wind screaming in his ears. Gin was tossed over his shoulder like a rug, and the speed was too fast for him to move, let alone breathe. The smiling creep still hadn’t drawn his sword, so maybe he’d expected this?
 
He glanced back, but he didn’t think the captains would easily be able to follow him; Toshiro had ruined their line of sight with that attack, not to mention the fact that he doubted they expected him to kidnap a captain.
 
He came to a screeching stop, abruptly dropping Gin. The shinigami caught himself, chuckling breathlessly. “Maa, maa, so fast, Kurosaki-kun.” He rearranged his haori, looking himself over, but he didn’t appear to be that concerned. Especially not for someone who had just been kidnapped by the visored monster. “You didn’t even let Kuchiki-sama’s shikai cut me. Impressive.”
 
Ichigo didn’t waste time. “You know what I’m going to ask.” Gin was masking his reiatsu as usual, but it would only be a matter of time before the others caught up to them. Shunsui and Ukitake were fast, so was Byakuya.
 
Gin folded his arms in his sleeves. “Yer lookin’ for the rock?”
 
“Yeah.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Last I saw you, you were in jail for treason. Why’d Yama-jii let you come?”
 
He cocked his head, amused by the question. “Would you believe me if I told ya?”
 
“Probably not.”
 
“There ya have it.” His smile widened. “I owe ya one, kid. Doubt ya like leaving debts unsettled either.”
 
Ichigo frowned, but couldn’t argue the point. Taking Gin wasn't going to help ease any suspicion the others had about the shinigami and both of their alleged ties to Aizen, but this was important. He only felt a little guilty.
 
Gin leaned forward, then pulled his hand from his haori, a familiar purple stone in hand. The Hogyoku was encased inside of an Kidou based container, not unlike the one he remembered seeing around Kisuke’s Hogyoku.
 
His eyes widened, looking to Gin. “You had it all along? Why didn’t you give it to Soul Society?”
 
“Didn’t have it, I just knew how to get it.” He offered it to him again. “Take it.”
 
Ichigo was suspicious, it seemed too easy.
 
“

Just take the fuckin’ thing before he changes his mind, King. Worry about why later.”

He still wanted his questions answered. “

Gin

.”
 
Gin’s smile faded, taking a step closer. “Soul Society doesn’t need another of these things.”
 
Ichigo hesitated, looking at it with a frown. The field around the rock kept him from fully sensing it, but he had a distinct feeling of sleepy awareness.
 
When he didn’t take it, Gin continued, “I saw that look in yer’ eyes. You loathed his very existence, and if ya hated him that much, I can’t imagine what he ended up doin’ with it. You understand what it can do;

you know

. Ain’t any of us can say that. Takes a liar to know a liar, and you ain’t a liar, kid. You should take it.”
 
Ichigo muttered, “What kind of logic is that?” Gin said nothing, and Ichigo wasn’t going to argue.
 
Ichigo reached for it and reluctantly took it from his hand. He felt the buzz of sleeping power, but nothing happened.
 
Gin looked back in the direction they’d come from, the wind picking up. The shift in air pressure, courtesy of Toshiro, was finally catching up to them. The captains had fanned out to look for him, and it was just his luck that Byakuya was the one sent in their direction.
 
Gin warned. “You should go. I should at least pretend to try to capture you, you bein’ treasonous trash and all.” Ichigo could never tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but this time he was mostly sure that he was.
 
Ichigo looked down at the Hogyoku, nearly identical to the one that had caused this whole mess. He resisted the urge to shiver. “Thanks.”
 
Gin folded his arms in his haori again, making a disapproving sound. “Don’t thank me, I’m just finishin’ what I started.”
 
The Hogyoku was strong enough to break reality, the last place it needed to be was in the hand of someone with reiryoku as vast as his own.
 
He didn’t linger, he ran, moving with all the speed he was capable of. He felt like he was holding a nuke in his hand. He didn’t want it. This one was asleep, but simply by being near him it was awakening, he could feel it as clearly as his own heart.
 
He stopped outside of the city, doubting they would be able to track him. With reiatsu they couldn’t sense, he had stealth on his side. He still wasn’t use to that.
 
He stopped in a thinly wooded area by the desert, the sky deeply overcast thanks to Toshiro. He sensed Byakuya’s reiatsu near Gin, but the captains didn't leave. He could still sense them nearby, likely searching for him, but he didn’t think their heart was in it. They were hardly trying.
 
He pulled out the phone, calling Urahara.
 
It only rang once. “Kurosaki-san?”
 
“Kisuke, I have it. What do I do with it?” He sounded more panicked than he intended, but the last time he touched the thing, he went back in time. This one was incomplete, drained, and apparently sleeping, but he didn’t feel any better about it.
 
“Where are you?” His tone was clipped, sensing his urgency.
 
“Umm.” He looked around, recognizing nothing. He made an exasperated sound. “Fuck if I know, just track the phone, I'm not going anywhere.”
 
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up.
 
Ichigo thought about setting the thing down, but it didn’t seem to matter if it was in his hand or a foot away, the Hogyoku

knew

he was there.
 
He started to pace, impatient. Kisuke was fast, but he still had to cross a city, while also avoiding the captains looking for him.

“King, can you hear that thing whisperin’?”

He answered aloud. “

No

, and I don’t wanna know.”

“I don’t like it. It’s crowded enough in here.”

“You’re the one that told me to use it in the first place.”

“Never said to use it. Just told ya it liked you.”

“Kurosaki-san.”
 
He whirled, surprised he’d missed Kisuke approach, but his attention had been torn, and Kisuke was fast and sneaky.

“Keep makin’ excuses.”

He held out the Hogyoku to Kisuke, eager to be rid of it. The ex-captain reverently took it, eyes narrowed. “Where was it?”
 
“Gin gave it to me.”
 
He gave Ichigo a sharp look. “Gin?” He seemed just as confused as Ichigo had been.
 
“Yeah, I know. Sneaky bastard said he owed me.”
 
Kisuke was surprised, but didn’t question him, not with more pressing matters at hand.
 
He set it on the ground, clasping his hands together. He started reciting lines from a Kidou chant. Red lines of power spiraled around the thing, then stabbed into it, lifting it into the air. Ichigo heard the whispers then. It wasn’t a voice in a way he understood, just a simple pressure, a presence.
 
There was an explosion of red light as Kisuke finished his chant, then it abruptly compressed. Red light condensed into white, then faded gradually, leaving behind a palm sized grey box.
 
Kisuke bent to gingerly pick it up, straightening to critique his handiwork. He stared at it and asked, “Do you mind if I keep this?”
 
“I was counting on it.”
 
Kisuke lingered, studying him, and he realized this was the first time Kisuke seen him in this form. He asked, “Who were you talking to?”
 
“Zangetsu.”
 
Recognition flashed in his eyes. “Ah. Is that normal?”
 
Ichigo scowled, not following. “Yes, why?”
 
“It’s unusual for a spirit to be so active.”
 
Ichigo shifted, a little self-conscious. “I’m not usual.”
 
Kisuke smiled, even if it was strained. “That you’re not, Kurosaki-san.” He glanced in the direction of the captains. “They seem persistent. You should go before they catch up.”
 
His eyes lingered on the cube, on the Hogyoku he could no longer sense. “Ah.” He wasn’t eager to stay close to that thing. He understood now why Kisuke had been so desperate to be rid of it. So desperate he would be willing and able to ruin Rukia’s life to do so.
 
Kisuke said, “I’ll contact you when Soul Society backs off. Lay low for awhile.”
 
He huffed, “Sure thing, Kisuke.”
 
He turned away, opening a garganta to Hueco Mundo, and he didn’t look back.

--- xxx ---

He passed through the valley of screams, stepping out an undetermined distance from Las Noches. He was in the mood to be alone, so he walked, taking his time making his way back. It was a far-fetched hope to think that Soul Society would ally with him so easily.
 
Arrancar were right, thousands of years of being hunted and killed and hated and he couldn’t blame them for hating Soul Society. Ichigo didn’t hate Soul Society, but there was a piece of himself that kept wondering why. Why did Soul Society abandon him?
 
He mastered his hollow on his own, they turned a blind eye; they didn’t help, the visoreds did. He kept the insanity at bay on his own, he gathered power to protect Karakura, Soul Society, and they gave him nothing in return but indifference. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t nightmares, loneliness, and heartache.
 
He crossed along the crest of a dune, sand trails trickling down the slope where his footsteps disturbed the reishi dense sand.
 
He felt a shiver claw up his spine, his instincts twisting his guts in visceral fear.

Predator

.
 
He spun, drawing and brandishing Zangetsu, eyes wide. The air was still, silent, the sand dunes glittering like silver beneath the stagnant moon, and nothing stirred.

Nothing

.
 
The feeling didn’t subside, but he felt

nothing

, saw

nothing

.
 
“

Zangetsu

.” His voice seemed too loud in the silence.

“Yer not crazy, King. We’re not alone”

Zangetsu didn’t mock him for his fear, and he trusted his instincts. Something was aware of him, not unlike the way the Hogyoku had been.
 
He felt like a mouse under the watchful eye of a cat. His instincts were writhing, but his mind insisted that it wasn’t logical.
 
He ran, uncertain what to make of it, and to his surprise, Zangetsu didn’t argue. He slipped into his fastest sonido, shunpo combination, feeling foolish for looking behind him more than he did before him, but he’d rather be paranoid and feel foolish than be dead.
 
Slowly, but surely, the feeling faded, until it was nothing but a nagging unease, and Las Noches was again in sight.
 
He realized he still had Zangetsu in hand, sheathing it. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a lizard scurried from the sand near his feet. He cursed, letting out a haggard breath.
 
Now that he didn’t feel like there were teeth around his neck, he asked,

What the hell was that?

“A lizard.”

“Fuck you, you know what I mean!”

“Hueco Mundo is a big place, King.”

That’s not reassuring.

“Ain’t tryin to be.”

“Fuck.”
 
Just what he needed. More fucking problems.
 
He ended up on Aizen’s balcony again, annoyed that he shared anything in common with the man. Even if he was dead, it was hard not to think of the room as his, and that pissed him off to no end. He blamed it on the fact he could still sense his reiatsu on everything. It was like an overbearing air freshener, he couldn’t help but notice it.
 
He sat on the railing, scowling out at the desert. He tried to ignore his new potential problem, but trying not to think about something was impossible. He redirected his anxiety onto more pressing problems instead.
 
He didn’t think Soul Society was stupid enough to set foot in Hueco Mundo, but they might increase patrols in Karakura thanks to his newfound status as a criminal. He wasn’t as concerned about that as he expected he would be. If they had decided he was a threat, if they were concerned about him at all, they would have a tangible reason to get better. He’d take Aizen’s place as the boogeyman if he had to, they needed to get stronger.
 
The quincies he was concerned about hadn’t shown themselves, and likely wouldn’t for awhile. He knew they were in Soul Society somewhere, biding their time, but where and how they were hidden was still beyond him. Unless he repaired his relationship with Soul Society, he probably wasn’t going to be able to get to the Rukongai unless he invaded again, and that wasn’t smart. If the quincies caught wind of him, it could only make things worse.
 
Once his ruffled fur was smoothed out, he decided he shouldn’t put off speaking with Harribel. He’d made her queen for a reason, she deserved to know what was going on. He got up to send a message with a lesser arrancar for her to meet him. At first he almost requested she meet him elsewhere, feeling a little self conscious for taking the room for himself. Then he decided the Espada’s opinion on it didn’t matter to him that much, he liked the balcony, so he asked that she join him there.
 
He sat on the railing, one leg drawn to his chest. His eyes were locked on the horizon, on the place he’d left...

fled

. Hueco Mundo suddenly didn’t seem so big anymore. It was an instinctual fear, one he hadn’t felt in so long. The shiver in his soul was almost pleasant.
 
Maybe this was why Aizen had tried so hard to nurture his strength? Maybe this was why he hadn’t killed him, despite having every opportunity to do so? He was afraid, but eager, a dangerous combination. He hadn’t felt like this since he’d lost against Grimmjow.
 
He asked Zangetsu,

Still no idea what the fuck that was?

“...Nah. Didn’t really feel like reiatsu. Didn’t even feel like a hollow. It was strange, more like a feeling.”

That wasn’t reassuring, and it only confirmed what he had already known. “Fantastic…” Curiosity made him want to go back, but common sense told him to stay away.
 
He felt Harribel approaching from...he didn’t know what compass direction that was, he didn’t think Hueco Mundo had direction like that. He didn’t turn when he sensed her in the doorway, he simply gestured for her to join him. She walked up to the broad railing, standing just to his right, her arms folded over her middle. He noticed she never seemed to fear him, she was always self assured, confident, but not in the grating way Grimmjow could be. She knew who she was.
 
She looked him up and down, positive she was sensing the traces of reiatsu on him. She asked, “You fought the Gotei 13?” It was posed as a question, but it was a statement of fact. She was merely pressing for details.
 
He decided Aizen must have told them about Soul Society, at least enough to know who was worth fighting. He shrugged, distracted. “A bit. They’re not too excited about our newfound sovereignty.”
 
“Understandable. What judgement did they pass?”
 
He said, “They consider my actions to be treason. If they decide to press their authority and invade, they’ll have war, but I don’t expect they would try anything so soon. They still believe they have claim over me as a shinigami.”
 
She asked, “Do they?”
 
He said, “Not anymore.” He couldn’t count the last time he’d thought of himself as a substitute shinigami.
 
She accepted his answer with what appeared to be approval.
 
He said, “I thought for sure you would blame me for drawing attention to Hueco Mundo.”
 
“It was inevitable, and now we have an even stronger King than before. I have no complaints. If I did, I would voice them.”
 
“I didn't doubt that.” If anything, he knew he could count on Harribel to speak her mind in a concise way.
 
She asked, “Should we stumble upon a shinigami spy, what would you have us do with them?”
 
He steeled his heart, aware that this order might condemn people he knew, people he cared about. “Kill them. If they’re of captain rank, capture them.” They were his friends, but if they forced his hand, he couldn’t show mercy. He was on the side of the monsters, and if he had to be a monster to protect all the people he wanted to protect, he would do it.
 
She regarded him for a long moment. “Something is bothering you.”
 
He finally looked at her, eyes widening a fraction in surprise. She was a bit more observant than he was comfortable with. “Keep it between us, but an unacceptable amount of attention is about to be on all of us. You all need to get stronger.” He didn’t mean to be alarmist, but he was worried he’d changed the timeline too much for his foreknowledge to be helpful. “I don’t think we have a lot of time.”
 
She said, “I can’t help if you don’t share, White.” There was an edge to her voice, one he didn’t feel inclined to ignore.
 
He looked back out at the desert, leaning forward on his knee.

Should I tell her?

“If ya want, she doesn’t seem the type to make underhanded moves.”

He was tempted to blow her off, but he’d made her queen for a reason, she shouldn’t be kept out of the loop. He posed his question slowly, feeling a bit foolish. “What’s the strongest hollow you’ve ever encountered in Hueco Mundo?”
 
“Arrancar, then Vasto Lorde...why do you ask?”
 
He questioned, “You never felt anything else?”
 
Her brows furrowed in a confused, silent ‘no’.

“Ichigo.”

His eyes widened.

Ossan!

Zangetsu no ossan’s voice was soft, distant, but present. He had a feeling he was determined for his voice to reach him, despite Zangetsu being at the forefront of his mind.

“Our reiatsu is on a level beyond what others can feel. It’s possible that there are other beings that occupy this plane as well.”

He hadn’t considered that. The only person he’d ever known to be even close to his level was Aizen.

That’s...disturbing.

“White?”
 
His attention was drawn back to Harribel. She noticed she lapse in thought, but chose not to comment on it. “Tell me if you notice anything out of the ordinary.” He emphasized, “ I do mean

anything

. A feeling, a sound, anything out of place.”
 
He felt a bit foolish, but Harribel appeared to take his concerns very seriously. “I’ll be sure to let you know. I’ll alert the Espada.”
 
“Good, tell them not to wander too far from Las Noches alone.” That piqued her curiosity, but Harribel wasn’t one to pry. She nodded, then left him alone with his thoughts.
 
He had an army of arrancar to train, politics to grapple with, a monster in his backyard, as well as an army of quincies camping out in the outer reaches of Soul Society. He didn’t need to worry that things would get worse, because he knew they inevitably would.

--- xxx ---

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Old Espada

0 (cero) Yammy

-deceased-

2 (segunda) Barragan

-deceased-

5 (Quinto) Nnoitra

-deceased-

Luppi

-deceased-

Numeros

Nakeem Grindina

-deceased-

Privaron Espada

Cirucci

-deceased-

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”  - H. P. Lovecraft

--- xxx ---

2 weeks later

Ichigo sighed, his Zanpakuto resting on his shoulder. He looked down at the arrancar gasping at his feet. “Get up.” Grimmjow hacked up blood, but Ichigo didn’t feel an ounce of pity. His fraccion was beat six ways to Sunday, but he didn’t want this to be over already.
 
Grimmjow had lasted a little longer, especially given how hard he was being on him, but because he favored him he pushed him too far. Now he could hold his resurreccion even through an unnamed Getsuga, he wasn’t as disappointed as he pretended he was.
 
He hovered over him. “

Get. Up.

” He wouldn’t lie and say Grimmjow hadn’t improved, but it still wasn’t nearly enough.
 
Grimmjow lashed out blindly, his reiatsu skittering harmlessly over Ichigo and the ground. There was a layer of disappointment in Ichigo’s tone. “Is that it? You can do better than that.”
 
He stabbed Zangetsu through the back of his shoulder, flattening him to the ground. “Fight!”
 
Grimmjow grit his teeth and snarled, “Fuck you!” He grabbed for the sword in his shoulder, his grip slipping as blood welled under his palm and fingers. The arrancar strained, trying to force the visored to back off.
 
Ichigo relented, yanking his sword from his shoulder with a frown. “Yeah, yeah.” He hadn’t stabbed him that deep, it might as well be a papercut.
 
“Fuck right off, White.” Grimmjow dragged himself to the side of Las Noches, his back hitting the wall with a soft grunt of pain.
 
Ichigo quietly regarded him and the damage he’d dealt.. He sheathed Zangetsu. “Y’know what, we’re done.”
 
“No, we’re not!” Grimmjow struggled to get up, but collapsed again in a heap. He was bleeding a good deal, his limbs wouldn’t obey him. He was done.
 
Ichigo went back for him, hauling him up by his better arm, then threw him over his shoulder as per the usual. Grimmjow growled, but knew by then that no amount of protesting would get Ichigo to put him down. He bled all over him, which was gross, but a small price to pay to keep his fraccion alive.
 
The scenery blurred by with the low boom of sonido and he stopped abruptly, dropping him on his ass in the med wing. “You know the drill.”
 
The medic arrancar converged on Grimmjow, and the tres Espada knew better than to fight them off by then. He laid there and let them heal him, Ichigo leaning against the wall impatiently. This was quickly becoming routine. He would beat the shit out of Grimmjow, fix him, then do it all over again.
 
He’d told Grimmjow explicitly that this is what would happen, but he didn’t think the arrancar actually believed he’d do it until the days went by and he was still wiping the floor with his face.
 
Just as he was coming to expect, Grimmjow wouldn’t look him in the eye, not until he was in one piece again. Instinct, pride, or both, he didn’t know.
 
Ichigo didn’t leave when he sat up this time. He watched as he rolled his shoulder, testing his range of movement. It wasn’t a perfect patch up, but arrancar healed fast, and he wasn’t bleeding out anymore. Sometimes he missed having Orihime’s ability around, but given her disposition, he knew she wouldn’t approve of his methods. It was for the best, he thought, that she never know what he was doing here. It would crush her image of the teenager she knew and loved, and he didn’t have it in him to break her heart like that.
 
Grimmjow stood, the lesser arrancar scattering away from him just to be safe, and looked at Ichigo with something close to confusion. Ichigo didn’t usually stick around, but today he had something else in mind for Grimmjow. He turned, gesturing for him to follow.
 
Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched as he trailed behind him. At least he didn’t complain every fucking time he asked him to do something anymore.
 
He pulled at his blood soaked kosode with a grimace. The blood has soaked through to his shitagi and it was sticking to his skin. He should deal with that first, they both should. He didn’t want both of them to be reeking of blood in the middle of Hueco Mundo. Not that he was concerned about fighting off hollows, it would just be a waste of time if he did, and he didn’t want to draw attention to themselves. Not to mention it was gross.
 
He stopped in a room that kept the uniforms for all the Espada. After all the shit he’d put Grimmjow through, he’d asked about changes of clothes only a day after he’d been there, and the room was unfortunately quite familiar now. He’d never gone to it with Grimmjow before, but for the time being it was convenient.
 
The Espada shrugged out of what was left of his jacket as Ichigo ordered. “Wash off the blood.” Obviously the Espada would have done it anyway, but he was telling him to get rid of the scent. Grimmjow gave Ichigo a curious look, but didn’t argue. There was only one reason he would tell him to do that. It was fairly self explanatory that they weren’t going to be sticking around Las Noches.
 
Ichigo leaned Zangetsu against the wall, stripped off his armor, then kosode and shitagi. There was water in a basin in the corner, and they both soaked a towel to clean off the blood. Ichigo was surprised when Grimmjow spoke. “So you’re not invincible.”
 
He was confused for a second, then realization hit him. He’d nearly forgotten. He looked down at the scars crisscrossing his torso, then to Grimmjow. “Told you already...I wasn’t always strong.”
 
He wondered why he didn’t care so much if Grimmjow saw. That shame only seemed to be present around his friends, around people that knew him. He hadn’t ever stopped to consider why.
 
He grabbed a long, white kosode, the inside of it black, and didn’t bother with a shitagi. He could reform his shihakusho, but that would mean changing forms, and there was no reason to do so.
 
Grimmjow shrugged into a new jacket and asked, “Who beat you?”
 
Ichigo pulled on the kosode and snorted. “I lost more than once, I lost a lot. Does it matter to whom? They’re dead now.”
 
At least, in his time they were. He replaced his armor and Zanpakuto and left, Grimmjow following in silence for once.
 
Once they got to the edge of Las Noches, he warned. “Try to keep up.” He took off into the desert with sonido, leaving Grimmjow straining to match his pace. He didn’t curb his speed too much, he was proud that he didn’t have to. Grimmjow was always fast, but he was getting faster.
 
He ran for a long while, straight for the place he’d felt that presence. He’d been avoiding it so long, he didn’t think whatever it was had stuck around in the same place, but it was the only place to start.
 
He’d circled Las Noches quite a few times since then, he’d even gone out into the desert to train with Ulquiorra. He hadn’t sensed it again. Urahara had called to let him know what was going on back home, and when he’d asked if the ex-captain knew anything, Kisuke hadn’t sounded happy about the fact something might be lurking in Hueco Mundo.

Ossan asked, “Is this wise, Ichigo?”

Probably not. Should probably be leaving well enough alone.

Yet here he was, running out into the desert with an Espada.
 
He realized Grimmjow was lagging behind, and it wasn’t that Grimmjow had gotten slower, he’d just poured on the speed as his thoughts raced. He slowed a bit so he could catch up, and after he was relatively sure he was where he needed to be, he slid to a stop.
 
Grimmjow was breathing hard and trying to hide it, looking around them with a scowl. “What the fuck are we doing out here?”
 
Ichigo turned in a circle, wondering how best to describe this. Zangetsu’s input was helpful. “Hunting.”
 
“Hunting what?”
 
Ichigo realized he hadn't thought that far. “I don't know.”
 
Grimmjow returned his gaze to the sand, scowling harder. “This have something to do with that order you gave?”
 
“Yes.” Ichigo bent and scooped up a handful of sand. It slid through his fingers, and he sensed nothing unusual.
 
“Why’d ya wait so damn long then?”
 
Ichigo thought about lying, then thought better of it. He wanted Grimmjow as his fraccion, he should extend just a bit of trust. “Whatever it was, it saw me, it could have followed me. I wanted to be sure Las Noches was safe. Why do you think I brought you out here when you aren't at your best?”
 
No response. “Because it wouldn't matter if you were.”
 
Ichigo started walking, casting his senses out over the sand for something, anything. Grimmjow had finally caught his breath, growling. “So why am I here then?”
 
“Pesquisa.” He looked back at Grimmjow. “It's a long shot, but it's a different sense than reiatsu chichaku; it's worth trying.” He wasn't even sure it was reiatsu they were looking for, but he was willing to try everything. He didn’t mention that he was also there as a precaution to his own sanity. He couldn’t be too safe.
 
Grimmjow stopped walking, and Ichigo stopped with him. Grimmjow closed his eyes and concentrated for a long minute. When he opened his eyes, his expression shifted closer to boredom. “There's an adjuchas a few miles that way, some lesser hollows, and nothing else.”
 
Ichigo didn’t feel anything either. Surely he was missing something? He hadn’t been doing anything before, yet the feeling that crawled over his skin had been inescapable. He hadn’t seen anything for miles, and there was nothing under his feet but sand. Unless...
 
Ichigo suddenly looked up. It was the only place left to look.
 
“

Well, we ain’t ever had to fight somethin’ from

above

in Hueco Mundo. Unless you count the bat.”

Good to know even Zangetsu hadn’t considered it. The darkness stretched so deeply, he'd never considered there might be more up there.
 
Grimmjow demanded. “

What

?”
 
“

Kitty feels left out.”

He asked, “Have you ever been up there?”
 
“It's the fucking

sky

.”
 
“I'll take that as a no.” He couldn't fly, but he could sure as shit jump. He looked over at Grimmjow and warned, “I'm gonna pick you up, try not to make a bunch of noise.”
 
Grimmjow skipped back. “Hell no.” He turned, finding himself face to face with Ichigo. “Shit.”
 
Ichigo flipped him up onto his shoulder, bending his knees and gathering his reiatsu. The sand swirled around his feet, reishi gathering. “Deep breath, Grimmjow.”
 
“Wha-”
 
He kicked off the ground, the shockwave sending sand billowing in all directions. He shot skyward, crossing a mile in an instant, then two, then three. His momentum slowed, catching himself on a platform of reishi.
 
Grimmjow was panting, air likely knocked out of his lungs. He asked, “How you holding up?”
 
“Put...me down.”
 
“Deep breath.” This time Grimmjow took the advice. He kicked off the platform he’d made, jumping higher and higher, repeating the process until the reishi started to thin.
 
He looked down, and the desert was a distant, gleaming stretch of white. He could even see Las Noches on the horizon. “I’m gonna put you down.” That was all the warning Grimmjow got before he dumped him.
 
Grimmjow caught himself in a clumsy crouch, still breathing hard. “Why didn’t you just bring Ulquiorra? Fucker has wings.”
 
“Hindsight. Stop whining.” Grimmjow muttered something in return, but he didn’t catch it. Truth be told, he’d rather Grimmjow be there anyway; he actually seemed to give a damn if he died, it gave him sharper instincts.
 
He started walking, flaring his reiatsu in silent challenge. It thickened in the air like surf, parting around Grimmjow harmlessly.
 
The Espada followed, frowning. “What are you doing?”
 
“What’s it look like?” Bait.

“Is this smart, King?”

Probably not.

They walked for a good while, Grimmjow seemed a little tense, but bored, and Ichigo was merely focused.
 
Like a gentle shift in humidity, Ichigo noticed something was different. He abruptly stopped, looking back and forth. “Do you feel that?”
 
Grimmjow tensed. “Feel what?” Even if he felt nothing, Ichigo’s behavior was making him edgy.
 
Ichigo looked up, just to be safe. He wouldn’t have it be said that he couldn’t learn from his mistakes. Then he turned in a circle, eyes unfocused, searching for movement..
 
He didn’t see anything, but he

felt

something. It wasn’t like before, this was faint, like the charge before a thunderstorm, but it was present nonetheless.
 
Ichigo said, “I don’t think we’re alone.”
 
Grimmjow reached for his sword, and Ichigo grabbed his wrist, stopping him from drawing. “No. We’re here to scout, not to fight.” He stared him down, and after a moment, Grimmjow’s grip slackened.
 
Ichigo let go, walking toward the thing his instincts were urging him to run away from. He had to know what this was.  It hadn’t pursued him, he had no reason to fight, but he needed to know if it was a threat.
 
The feeling intensified, to the point where he felt the urge to draw his swords. He looked back at Grimmjow. “Do you really feel nothing?”
 
Grimmjow looked taken aback, brows furrowing. “Feel

what

?”

I’m not crazy, right?

Zangetsu reassured him.

“I’d know if you were crazy, King, it’s real.”

He answered, looking back at the dark sky. “Maybe it’s for the best that you can’t feel it.” He wasn’t sure if Grimmjow would want to keep going. At least this way, he wouldn’t have him doing something unpredictable.
 
He kept walking, the silence stretching around them. He noticed that Grimmjow walked a little closer, he wasn’t even sure the arrancar noticed, but even if he couldn’t feel it consciously, he seemed to be reacting to

something

.
 
The feeling was strong now, like the jaws of a beast tightening around him. Maybe he should have come alone? Maybe this was a mistake...no regrets.
 
He stiffened, the light of the moon suddenly gone. There were no clouds out that night, something was

there

. Something that hadn’t made a sound, or betrayed its presence at all.
 
He spun, swords drawn on reflex to face towards the moon. He stood in front of Grimmjow, the Espada struggling not to draw his sword. Grimmjow hadn’t missed the shadow that had been cast over them, that was as real as any threat.
 
He saw darkness when he should be seeing the moon. Something was there, it was close, and yet he still couldn’t see it. He fell into a ready stance, swords raised. He had better night vision when he was hollowfied, but he still couldn’t make out details.
 
He called out. “Who’s there?” His voice fell off sharply with nothing to echo off of, and when the silence dragged on, he started to doubt he’d spoken at all..
 
“

White

.”
 
The urgency in Grimmjow’s voice made him look, eyes widening at the darkness that seemed to creep underfoot, separating them from the glow of the dunes below. He hoped back, then his eyes widened, realizing it was farther away than he thought. It wasn’t underfoot, it was the shadow cast by the moon. It was immense.
 
He looked back at the darkness, throwing his arm back. “Back up.” He stepped into sonido, putting distance between them and whatever this was. Grimmjow kept pace, stopping behind Ichigo without needing to be told twice to stay out of the way.
 
Despite the distance, Ichigo still felt that it hadn’t done them a lick of difference. “What are you?”
 
The answer struck his thoughts like a million tiny fingers raking over his brain. He flinched in pain, the words echoing in his mind. There was nothing but silence, but the ‘voice’ seemed too big, too loud. “
THE HANDS OF ALTEZA.
”
 
“What is that?”
 
“
ALTEZA
.”
 
That was far from an answer he could understand. He sucked in a breath when he saw it. The ‘voice’ was being literal. He saw them reaching, snaking closer. There were hands, fingers that bent, too slender and dark to be natural.
 
He asked, “What do you want?”
 
“White, if you don’t attack that thing, I will.” Ichigo could hear the fear and disgust in Grimmjow’s voice, he was surprised he got the words out before he simply acted.
 
He shouted, “No! Stand down!”
 
Grimmjow drew his sword anyway, and Ichigo stepped into sonido, appearing directly behind him. He bent his sword arm back and forced him to his knees. Grimmjow snarled in dissent, but he ignored him. Ichigo demanded. “What do you want?!”
 
The hands reached again, and Ichigo sheathed his swords. He grabbed Grimmjow and flashed back, losing his grip on the reishi. They fell, Ichigo’s eyes on the darkness obscuring the sky. The reaching hands pulled back, casting them both in moonlight.
 
Once he was certain Grimmjow wasn’t going to do something stupid he pushed him away, letting the Espada control his own descent.
 
It was a long fall, and Ichigo kept his eyes on the sky as much as the desert rushing up to meet him. He’d survive if he didn’t catch himself, but it would still hurt like hell.
 
They both landed in a crouch, the reishi they used to cushion their fall sending sand billowing in all directions. Ichigo straightened and kept looking up, eyes wide. Grimmjow spoke first. “What

the fuck

was that?”
 
“I don’t know.”
 
He grabbed the front of his kosode and screamed, “Bullshit! You were talkin’ to it!”
 
Ichigo felt a hot flash of anger, reacting without much thought. Grimmjow found himself on his back, a clawed hand on his chest. He hissed, “

Don’t touch me.

”

“Testy, King. Calm down, yer fine.”

He grit his teeth, backing off. That Grimmjow got his hands on him at all was a testament to how rattled he was. His nerves were drawn tight; he didn’t like knowing there was an immeasurable enemy in the goddamned

sky

. It hadn’t hurt them, but he hadn’t want to test that leeway with a pointless assault.
 
It was capable of speech, it seemed to be able to communicate, so it was intelligent. If anything, it felt like

he

was the unevolved one, like merely reaching down to his level to speak could have killed him.
 
He organized his thoughts, looking over at Grimmjow, who had wisely chosen to shut the fuck up. “It called itself Alteza.” He corrected himself. “The hands of Alteza.”
 
Grimmjow looked up, reluctantly sheathing his sword. “Has that thing always been up there?”
 
Ichigo scoffed. “Why are you asking

me

? You would know.”
 
“What the fuck does that mean?”
 
He tore his eyes from the sky to look back at the Espada. This was dangerous territory to tread, he was walking a fine line between the truth and a lie. “I wasn’t born a hollow, my time in Hueco Mundo has been brief, compared to you.”
 
“So what are you then?”
 
He answered vaguely. “Another of Aizen’s projects.” It wasn’t how he classified himself personally, but it was no less true.
 
Grimmjow didn’t pry further. He said, “I didn’t feel anything from it. Kind of like you.”
 
Ichigo looked at him, then up at the sky. “I felt something, but it wasn’t reiatsu. I’m not sure if it’s violent. Maybe I just drew its attention.”
 
“That’s a pretty weak theory.”
 
Ichigo frowned. “Do you have a better idea?” He was met with silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
 
Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets now that he didn’t have a death grip on his sword. He said, “So what’re you gonna do about it?”
 
“Right now? Nothing, unless it becomes a threat. So far I think it’s only reacted to what I’ve done, although I’m not sure what got its attention the first time.”
 
He heard ossan’s voice, distant, but present. “

You came into contact with the Hogyoku. With reiatsu like ours, it doesn’t matter if it’s awake or asleep, did you forget?”

Grimmjow said something, but he wasn’t really listening. His eyes widened, thinking back. Had he changed something without realizing? He’d been in Hueco Mundo before, this only started after he’d touched the Hogyoku.

“Can’t be coincidence, King. Yer luck is bad, but not that bad.”

“You felt it stir, don’t rule out the possibility that you did this. Or at least contributed to it.”

Grimmjow put himself directly in his path to get his attention, but wisely, he didn’t try to touch him. “Hey!” His eyes focused on Grimmjow, and the Espada continued, “Yer always spacing out, I hate bein’ ignored.”
 
“It’s hard to focus on three voices at once, get used to it.”
 
Grimmjow frowned. “Three?”
 
Ichigo gestured vaguely to Zangetsu, starting the long trek back to Las Noches. “Two swords, two voices.” It was only true for him, not anyone else that he was aware of, but it wasn't like Grimmjow needed to know that.
 
“Shinigami don’t make any fuckin’ sense.”
 
He snorted. “Says the arrancar that’s half cat.”
 
“Jaguar! Fuck you!”
 
“Whatever.”
 
The ‘conversation’ died after that, both of them lost in thought. He fell into sonido, Grimmjow keeping pace. The arguing helped calm him down, and it seemed like it did the same for Grimmjow, but he noticed the Espada looked up nearly as much as he did.
 
There were no stars in Hueco Mundo.

--- xxx ---

They returned, nothing out of the ordinary happening. He let Grimmjow go his own way, surprised when he was immediately intercepted and told that Szayel, of all arrancar, needed to speak with him. Urgently.
 
He boxed his emotions up tight, not allowing that rage to control him. It was a pointless, instinctual anger, but at least he could recognize that.

Calm

. He could stay calm, he needed to.
 
He planned on calling a meeting, but if it was that urgent, it could wait, and if Szayel was wasting his time, he’d pay for it in blood.
 
He found him in his lab, the arrancar bent over a complicated looking console. He had no idea what any of it did, but Syazel seemed to. He realized he hadn’t noticed him, so he spoke up. “You sent for me?”
 
Szayel flinched, startled from his thoughts. He looked back at him like he had forgotten he'd sent for him at all. He dipped in a rushed bow, then pushed his hair from his face, settling back in his chair. “I did. I've been monitoring travel in and out of Hueco Mundo, and my sensors picked up something alarming.”
 
Szayel pulled up a topographic map, pointing. “That’s the tres Espada on the sensors.”
 
Grimmjow showed up as a red swath of energy. Rather small, but he was just using sonido. Ichigo said, “I was with him. I don’t show up?”
 
Szayel said, “No, I haven’t determined how to measure your reiatsu yet.” Yet? He wasn’t sure if that was confidence or mere determination that led Szayel to believe he could measure it at all.
 
The scientist continued, “That was hours ago.” He hit a key and the recording continued in what Ichigo could assume was fast motion. “Then this happened.” Violet bloomed across the screen, starting in snaking lines that expanded until there was nothing left on the screen but bright violet.
 
Ichigo felt a chill settle in his gut. He asked, “What is that?”
 
“Violet represents a tear in the world...but that isn’t a garganta, no arrancar can make one that large.” Ichigo could hear the annoyance in his voice as he admitted, “I don’t know what this is.”
 
Ichigo frowned, asking, “Is this the first time you’ve picked up something like this?”
 
“I just finished placing sensors around Las Noches around 80 hours ago. I’m still expanding the reach, but this is the first I’ve seen anything resembling a garganta outside of Las Noches.”
 
Ichigo frowned at the screen, wondering just what he was looking at. Whatever this Alteza was, it was passing between worlds. Why? From where?
 
He realized he’d leaned in close, consequently getting closer to Szayel. He jerked back and away from the monitor. “If something like this happens again, alert me immediately.”
 
Szayel sat back, looking up at him thoughtfully. He accused. “You know something.”
 
Ichigo frowned, not liking his tone, but Szayel wasn’t wrong. “I’m calling a meeting, I don't want to repeat myself.”

All I wanted to know was if Soul Society would try to spy, but this is...unexpected.

Zangetsu didn’t have anything meaningful to add, he could feel the hollow twitching to kill something, preferably Szayel. “

It's too bad the fucker is useful.”

He turned away and said, “Gather the Espada in the old meeting room.” He didn't like that room, no matter how  convenient it was, but today they actually needed the computer. “I'll meet you there.”
 
Syazel dipped his head in a nod, aware he was just barely skirting by in his good graces. “Yes, heika.”
 
Ichigo left him to it, finding someplace outside of Las Noches to make his call. The phone operated on a frequency that would be next to impossible to eavesdrop on, but he was paranoid.
 
It rang quite a few times before Kisuke picked up, and the shopkeeper didn’t even bother with his usual greeting, he was all business. He asked, “Did you have something to do with the readings I picked up earlier?”
 
Ichigo stiffened in surprise. “You got it too?”
 
“Back up. Why did you call? I was going to contact you once I organized the data I collected, I was almost finished analyzing it.”
 
“There's an arrancar scientist here that I had monitoring any travel in and out of Hueco Mundo.” He couldn't bite back his sarcasm. “I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that what I just saw, and what his sensors and yours picked up, are the same thing.”
 
“You

saw

it?”
 
Ichigo was on the dome, the only place he was positive wasn’t bugged. Literally. He looked up at the sky and said, “I talked to...it. Whatever it is.”
 
Kisuke’s voice was flat, confused. “You

spoke

to it.”
 
“Something is in the sky in Hueco Mundo. It called itself Alteza...well, the hands of Alteza. The dark looked like actual hands, Kisuke.” Just saying it out loud felt wrong, his eyes on the sky like simply saying the name might summon it back. Maybe it was always there?
 
“In the sky? The readings Soul Society and I read were miles above ground.” He paused, “Soul Society thinks it’s

you

, Kurosaki-san.”
 
“Fuck.” He heard the phone creak under his grip, and he made a conscious effort not to crush it. Like Soul Society needed any more reasons to become hostile. “Besides a tear in the world, do you know what it is? I don’t think Szayel’s equipment is as sophisticated as what you have.”
 
“It’s not like a garganta, it’s more chaotic, subtle. Visually, on my end, there was nothing to see. What did you see?”
 
Ichigo looked up again. “Just darkness and hands.”
 
Kisuke was quiet a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was flat. “That sounds unpleasant.”
 
Ichigo exhaled. “You have no idea.” He thought back to that moment, struggling to recall what he’d felt. He still had Espada to meet with. “Look, I have to go.” The question he wanted to ask was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it.
 
Kisuke said, “Soul Society’s patrols of Karakura have increased since the phenomenon. You could come back, but it would be risky. Soul Society would know the instant you stepped through a garganta, and there are more than enough patrols to respond. I know they can’t catch you, but it would be troublesome.”
 
It hadn’t even been that long, but he missed his friends more than he thought he would.

No regrets.

“Okay. For whatever it’s worth, if they ask your opinion-”
 
“I’ll defend your good name. Kurosaki-san’s honor is safe with me!”
 
The false cheer made him feel a bit better. He let out an annoyed sigh, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Thanks, Kisuke. Keep me posted.” He flipped the phone shut, taking another minute to clear his head.
 
Time to jump back in with the sharks.
 
He made his way to the meeting room, well aware he’d be sneaking up on his Espada without meaning to. He stepped in, and found that for once, he was the last one. When he stepped in, he noted how their posture changed, even if it was subtle.
 
Not all of them were sitting, the Espada taking full advantage of his lax rules. Not to mention there weren’t enough chairs anymore. Starrk, Aaroniero, Zommari, and Shawlong sat, and the rest were scattered around the perimeter, keeping to their usual groups. Harribel and her old fraccion stood close together, as was Grimmjow with his old fraccion.
 
He heard Grimmjow mutter something about waiting, and he didn’t humor it with a response. He beat the shit out of him on a daily basis, there really was no helping it. “Syazel, bring up the map.”
 
Szayel already had it at hand, the center of the table opening up to project the topographic screen Szayel had shown him earlier. From the look of curiosity on the other Espada’s faces, he hadn’t said anything about why they were there, and neither had Grimmjow.
 
He stopped at the head of the table and started, “Earlier today, Grimmjow and I went out on scouting mission.” He answered their unspoken question. “Yes, this has to do with my order not to leave Las Noches alone.” The Espada were annoyingly testy about using the buddy system. “I didn’t find anything on the ground.”
 
He pointed up. “But we found something in the sky.”
 
All eyes flickered between Grimmjow and Ichigo, curious. Ichigo continued. “It didn’t have reiatsu, none that I could recognize, but it spoke. Have any of you ever heard the name Alteza?” No answer.
 
Harribel offered. “Evolution is too unstable in Hueco Mundo, there is no recorded history. Aizen was the first to recover Las Noches.”
 
Recover? That was interesting to him. Who built the first buildings, and why had they fallen into ruin?

“Focus, King.”

Ichigo dropped the thought and continued, “That’s about as much as I could have expected.” He gestured to Syazel, folding his arms. “Show them.”
 
Szayel let the recording play, until the monitored area around Las Noches was covered in violet. Szayel explained what the color meant on his sensors, deflecting questions and accusations that his equipment was faulty.
 
Ichigo had to begrudgingly back the scientist up. “It works. My contact in the human world recorded the same thing, as did Soul Society. They think it was

us

. On that note, be on your guard for spies.” This new problem wasn’t making tensions between them and Soul Society smooth any quicker.
 
The Espada talked amongst themselves for a moment, and Ichigo let them.
 
Ulquiorra asked, “What did it look like?”
 
The Espada hushed, looking between Grimmjow and Ichigo for the answer. Grimmjow beat him to it, hackles raised. “

Hands

. Lots of hands.” He narrowed his eyes at Ichigo. “Felt a lot like

him

. Like

nothing

.”
 
Harribel asked Ichigo. “Could you sense it?”
 
He shook his head. “Not quite. I could feel it in the same way you might feel killing intent, it was instinctual.” He looked around the room. “Have any of you ever seen or heard of anything like this before?”
 
He took the silence as a resounding no.
 
“Keep to Las Noches or the surrounding area. We still don’t know if it’s hostile. I retreated, and so did it. If you see it,

don’t engage

.” He put emphasis on that order, scanning the room. “Chances are it will just kill you if you do. If it’s been there all this time, I’d rather not draw it’s attention any more than we already have.”
 
It was a slim hope that it would fuck off and leave them alone. Something was making it move; the human world and Soul Society had felt it as well. He had a sinking feeling the Hogyoku might have something to do with it, but it was nothing but a feeling.
 
He questioned the room. “Anyone have anything to add?”
 
There was a moment of silence, then Yylfordt stepped up. “How come we don’t wipe out Soul Society? Why are we just waiting around? They’ll come after us eventually, why don’t we strike first?!”

“Well, we knew they’d start to get antsy eventually. Surprised it took this long.”

He shifted his weight and Yylfordt flinched like he might attack. He thought he buried his amusement pretty well; at least Yylfordt had good instincts. “First and foremost,

you’re weak

. Any captain could take you out the way you are now, especially with bankai.” Yylfordt looked affronted for being called weak, but he couldn’t argue it.

“Secondly, Aizen

made

you, or did you forget? I know it’s your nature to claw to the top, even if you’re the last one standing, but we’re all there is. Once we’re gone, that’s it. You might not give a shit now, but no one wants to be alone, not even Aizen.”
 
He hated him still, but the loneliness he’d felt from his had always been frightening, and sad. A similar loneliness now gripped him, and he wondered if the bastard had done it on purpose. He’d always claimed to have manipulated his entire life, and he’d never been able to understand why. He’d always heard misery loves company, but he didn’t think that was the reason.
 
Ichigo didn’t linger on that thought. He said, “If I wanted to conquer Soul Society, I’d do it myself, but no matter how much you hate them, without Soul Society, everything would end. I’m doing my best to keep you alive, so get over it. You’ll have plenty of enemies soon enough.”

“Ungrateful little shits.”

He asked. “Anything else?”
 
Grimmjow asked, “If it’s not the shinigami, then what enemies are we bustin’ our ass over?” He sounded doubtful.

Should I tell them the truth?

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt, who the fuck are they gonna tell? You’ve got the fuckers on lockdown. Might get them to calm the fuck down.”

“Quincies.”
 
Only about a fourth of the Espada reacted, the rest looked at him cluelessly, so he elaborated for the ones that didn’t know. “Quincies can completely eradicate a hollow. If they kill you, you’re dead for good. No hell, no reincarnation, it’s the end of the line.”
 
He saw fear in a lot of them, even if they tried to hide it. He said, “However much you hate shinigami, the quincies hatred runs deeper. They intend to conquer Hueco Mundo. I don’t know when, but I know they’ll try. Unless you want to be some Quincy’s dog, get stronger.”
 
Szayel shifted, then asked, “How can you know this?”
 
He hesitated, wondering if the truth was necessary, then said, “The truth sounds like a lie.”
 
Szayel demanded, “Tell me anyway.”
 
Ichigo frowned at his tone, but looked to the other Espada. He knew what to expect. If he extended a little trust, maybe he would get some in return. That might be foolish, but he was tired of all the secrets.“You know that little purple orb that made you perfect arrancar? It sent me back in time. A long, long ways back. I don’t know everything about you, but I know enough.”
 
He saw their looks of skepticism, and couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t like he’d been eager to believe the bullshit Aizen kept telling him. “You’d think if I was going to lie I’d tell you something half believable.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me, but the fact remains that for better or worse, I want you all alive. At least trust that. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.”
 
He looked around at the Espada and drawled, “Any more questions?” He really had told them mostly everything, but he had a lot on his mind, it was possible he’d forgotten something. They seemed thoughtful, but not violent, or dismissive, which seemed like a win in his book.
 
Starrk’s eyes narrowed as he asked, “What else aren’t you telling us?”
 
Ichigo answered incredulously. “My age and my horoscope. If I told you any more we’d be dating. Is that all?
 
He thought there might be more questions, but none were brave enough to ask. He waved a hand in dismissal. “Go.”
 
They left, the way in which they skirted around stronger arrancar gaining his attention. It was like watching a cat try to slip through a door, it was pathetic. Maybe one day they would start to trust each other a bit more, but today was definitely not that day.
 
He didn’t fail to notice that Grimmjow hadn’t budged from where he leaned against the wall, nor did he look like he wanted to fight. The arrancar all left, leaving them alone, and Ichigo asked, “What?”
 
Grimmjow said, “You’re from the future, you said you know us.” If he was questioning that, Ichigo couldn’t tell. He asked, “Who gave you those scars.”
 
Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “Why do you care?”
 
“I wanna know!”
 
Ichigo made an irritated sound, leaning back against the table. Stubborn bastard. Still, the shame he felt wasn’t present. If anything, he felt pride over it around the Espada. He was alive, that’s what mattered.
 
“Fine.” He shrugged out of his armor and kosode, leaning Zangetsu propped against the side. He sat on the edge. “A lot of injuries were healed, but I didn’t forget.” He lifted up his right wrist. “You stabbed me through the arm. Did a good amount of damage too, you bastard.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened. “

I

stabbed you?” He couldn’t blame him for being shocked, he hadn’t even ruffled his hair in this timeline.
 
He traced a line along his chest. “Got me here too.”
 
Grimmjow got closer, skeptical. “You’re lying.”
 
“Why would I lie about getting stabbed by your dumb ass?” He explained, “A friend of mine was a healer, but after she was killed, she couldn’t heal me any more. Obviously.” He didn’t want to linger on that.
 
He traced invisible and visible scars, naming who gave them to him. He found himself recounting more than wounds that bled; Nnoitra in particular had been fond of breaking bones, and he didn’t shy away from sharing that either.
 
Grimmjow seemed to believe him, and he wasn’t sure if that was because he liked the idea of him getting beat all to hell, or if there was something Ichigo was missing.
 
The only thing that gave him pause were the scars left by both Szayel and Aizen. Szayel wasn't strong by a long shot, and it made the scars he'd left behind that much more infuriating.
 
He traced an invisible line across his gut. “Aizen almost cut me in half. Hurt like hell.” He traced a visible line along the side of his neck. “Aizen again.” He tapped above his heart. “Got stabbed in the heart a few times. By someone you wouldn’t know, and by Aizen. Ulquiorra killed me twice. A cero through the chest, and his hand.”
 
Grimmjow’s face twisted in both rage and confusion. “Why the fuck won’t you die?”
 
Ichigo laughed, Zangetsu’s laughter echoing in his head. “Beats me. Maybe I’m lucky?”
 
Grimmjow looked him up and down, thoughtful. “You lost

a lot.

”
 
“I already told you I did.”
 
Grimmjow looked thoughtful, not that that scowl had faded. “How’d you get stronger?”
 
“I had to. That’s all.” It was also possible Aizen had played a major role in keeping him alive, but taking his own ego out of it, he didn't like thinking all of his experiences had been mapped out for him. Maybe it was only human of him to cling to the illusion of free will, but he wasn't willing to let it go.
 
He slid from the table, turning and picking up the kosode, but Grimmjow’s question stopped him. “What about that one? All the way up your spine. How the hell did you survive

that. . .”

He was kind of hoping he wouldn’t ask about that, but he couldn’t think of a good reason not to tell him either. “Told you, Aizen had a hand in making us both.” He didn’t really want to go into it. It wasn’t the pain that bothered him, he was use to pain. It was the helplessness that hurt.
 
He got dressed, watching Grimmjow. He looked like he was waiting for him to say something else. He sighed in mild annoyance. “In my timeline, I was about as strong as you are, but my hollow side was unstable. There were a lot of reasons for that, but Aizen gave me a push.”
 
“That have anything to do with you talkin’ to yourself?”
 
Ichigo scoffed, replacing Zangetsu. “I'm not crazy.”
 
Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”
 
Ichigo gave him a once over, frowning in thought.
 
The Espada didn’t seem to appreciate the scrutiny. He demanded, “What?”
 
“I just thought of something.” He left the room, Grimmjow tailing him, and he asked, “You up for round two?”
 
“Why the hell do you think I'm sticking around?”
 
He smirked, stepping into sonido. He could walk, but Las Noches was huge, and he had a feeling they both had stress to burn.
 
“

You going to do what I think you are?”

You’re me, what do you think?

Grimmjow ran after him, not even out of breath when their feet touched the sand. He reached for Zangetsu, pulling on his power even more. He'd never tried this before, and the strain was great enough that this was actually worth practicing.
 
Zangetsu materialized behind him, manic grin and all. “Yo. It's been awhile, kitty.”
 
Grimmjow's eyes widened, reaching for his sword. “Two of you?”
 
“Told ya I wasn’t crazy.” Zangetsu cackled like this was hilarious, but Ichigo didn’t get the joke. “This is really for mastering bankai, but it's convenient. It takes effort to manifest Zangetsu, especially in this form, so it might make the fight more fair.”
 
Grimmow drew his sword, shifting into a ready position. He protested. “Fair?! There's two of you!”
 
Zangetsu smirked, “So maybe you'll actually learn something. Watching King beat the snot out of you is fun, but it's getting old.”
 
Ichigo explained, “Doing this decreases my power significantly. Maybe not enough to matter, but Zangetsu is unpredictable, it'll keep you from getting use to fighting one person.”
 
Grimmjow growled. “You done talkin’?”
 
Ichigo drew the trench knife, spinning it idly in hand. He decided to let Zangetsu have his fun first, while Grimmjow was still relatively fresh.
 
Zangetsu drew the khyber blade, lurching forward without sonido, but it was still almost too fast for Grimmjow to react. The Espada raised his sword to block, the blade chipping under the strain.
 
Zangetsu laughed, putting his back into it. Grimmjow slid back on his heels, struggling to hold his ground.
 
Their fight progressed as Ichigo expected, Zangetsu not letting Grimmjow settle into any sort of rhythm. He went at him hard and fast, lacking any of the refinement Ichigo carried behind his swings. He didn’t settle for using his sword either, he kicked and punched every opportunity he got. It was less of a fight and more of a brawl. After a bit, Ichigo joined in, keeping Grimmjow on his toes.
 
He was always impressed with how well the Espada reacted on instinct alone. Whenever Zangetsu loosed a getsuga, he cleaved into it with a cero. Ichigo circled their fight, letting Zangetsu have all the fun, and merely aimed for blind spots and openings.
 
It was more fun than their previous sparring rounds, or Zangetsu’s and Grimmjow’s hysterical laughter was tricking him into thinking it was. Zangetsu didn't have a scratch on him, and Grimmjow looked like he'd lost a fight with a blender, but they were both smiling. If that could even be called a smile.
 
At least

they

were enjoying themselves. His thoughts kept drifting back to Karakura and Soul Society. He knew Zangetsu noticed, because he attacked him a few times to get him to focus again. Serious attacks, because they both knew his sword couldn't cut him. He parried all these attempts. He wasn't

that

distracted, and there was no one he knew better than his own Zanpakuto, but it did get his attention.
 
Ichigo only called it quits on them when Zangetsu was starting to get over zealous and Grimmjow was slowing down. He moved between Grimmjow and Zangetsu, catching the cleaver in his right hand, an attack that would have cut Grimmjow from shoulder to pelvis if he hadn't stopped it short. “Okay, that's enough.”
 
Zangetsu jerked on the sword, but Ichigo had his fingers wrapped through the missing fuller. He had a firm handhold, Zangetsu wasn’t going anywhere. His hollow argued. “We were finally gettin’ somewhere!”
 
Grimmjow attacked him from behind, and Ichigo didn’t even bother moving. His sword stopped short on his hierro at the base of his neck, a move that would have decapitated a lesser arrancar. Ichigo looked back at him and raised a brow. “Really?”
 
Grimmjow looked disappointed. “It was worth a shot.” Grimmjow drew his sword back now that he’d confirmed it was pointless.
 
Ichigo looked back at Zangetsu. “I’d prefer it if Grimmjow

walk

away from this.”
 
Zangetsu groused, “Always gotta be the fuckin’ babysitter.”
 
“You’re not the one that has to drag his ass to the medics.”
 
Grimmjow chimed in. “Hey, don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”
 
His hollow started to fade away, sinking back into his soul. The sword faded to nothing in Ichigo’s hand. Zangetsu looked disappointed, so he gave him a parting promise. “We’ll spar later.”
 
He turned to Grimmjow, sheathing his sword. “Shoo, scram, go wherever it is that you go.”
 
“What're you gonna do?”
 
“

Kitty already misses me. Shoulda let us keep going.”

I don't know where the fucker gets all that energy. He never stops.

Ichigo started for Las Noches. He snapped. “

Sleep

. It's been a long, frustrating day, and the last I checked, it's not a group activity.”
 
Grimmjow gave in and turned away, griping, “Never anything to do around here.”

I hope the arrancar discover hobbies that don’t involve killing things.

“Yer too optimistic, King.”

--- xxx ---

He found an empty room, not having chosen one for himself. He simply didn't trust anyone enough to sleep in the same spot more than once. It was bad enough that Grimmjow had literally sniffed him out. He set up a Kidou barrier as usual, taking a place on the bed. It was actually a couch, but it was long enough, so he didn't care.
 
He draped an arm over his face, more exhausted than he realized.

“Ya haven't slept in two days, of fuckin’ course your tired. Switch.”

“What if I don't?”

“Be reasonable, ya sleep better that way.”

Not much had been going his way, he was feeling stubborn, but Zangetsu was right. He relented, and Zangetsu traded places with him.
 
He opened his eyes on his inner world, finding himself under the scrutiny of Zangetsu no ossan. His brows furrowed and he said nothing, waiting for him to speak. His voice was soft, but he could hear him easily. “Be careful, Ichigo...it’s been a long time since you’ve allowed yourself a heart.”
 
He looked away, lying down on his back on the side of the building. It wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but it was to be expected. Nothing about his life had ever been soft. “Worried, ossan?”
 
“You bury your emotions deeper and deeper. They aren’t gone.”
 
Ichigo closed his eyes, brows furrowed. He crossed his arms over his face, fingers clenching in fists. “I know, ossan.
 
“Don’t forget.”
 
He left him alone, and he knew he wasn’t wrong. He’d been in his hollow for over two weeks now. It wasn’t like it was a strain on his reiatsu, but he knew how he could get. It was a reminder, through and through.
 
Ichigo let himself sink into sleep, a simpler task when Zangetsu was in in charge.
 
He slipped deeper and deeper into sleep. He couldn’t feel his fingers, his body, there was nothing but his thoughts.
 
Darkness.
 
He jerked awake to nothing. He couldn’t move, he wasn’t even sure he knew what movement was like anymore.
 
He couldn’t breathe, he was

suffocating

. There were words, and they were overbearing in his mind, but all he knew was silence, and confusion.

YOU

DO NOT

BELONG.

--- xxx ---

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Old Espada

0 (cero) Yammy

-deceased-

2 (segunda) Barragan

-deceased-

5 (Quinto) Nnoitra

-deceased-

Luppi

-deceased-

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Death's brother, Sleep." –Aeneid

--- xxx ---

YOU

DO NOT

BELONG.

Ichigo was suddenly aware. Sand. He stiffened, whirling in a circle in confusion. He looked up just to be safe, but the sky was just as dark and empty as he expected it to be. ZANGETSU!

“We’re here, King. You can hear us?

” Zangetsu sounded just as distraught as he felt. This was wrong.

What happened?

“You don’t remember?”

Ichigo’s eyes widened, feeling sick. “Zangetsu,

what happened?”

“You forced me out and took control, then you walked here.”

“I

walked

?” He felt fear cinch his chest, looking around at the desert like the answer might be elsewhere, but there was nothing but sand and the glitter of sand and quartzite trees.
 
“

You’ve been walking for hours, King. You really don’t remember?”

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “No.”
 
“

You've reacted to nightmares, but you were never a sleepwalker.”

“

Was

I asleep?”

“I don't think so, your mind was active, but you wouldn't respond.”

He was still exhausted, which meant he hadn't actually been asleep. What the hell was he doing? The last thing he remembered...the last thing…

That voice.

“What’re you talkin’ about, King?”

It said I don't belong.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Ichigo pressed his palms to his eyes, growling in frustration. “I don’t know!” He dropped his hands, casting out his senses for some hint as to why he would be there. It was just sand, he didn’t understand. “Fuck!”

“Calm down, Ichigo.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” He realized he was shaking from exhaustion, anxiety, and anger, and he couldn’t be sure which was taking precedence. He could feel the reiatsu gathered in Las Noches not too far away, it wouldn’t take long to return. Still, at the distance he was at, he must have been walking for hours. This wasn’t some slip, so what caused it? What snapped him out of it?
 
He stepped into sonido, but he went the opposite direction of Las Noches. He wanted to kill something.

Violently

. Then he needed to sleep. The two were only related because if he didn’t do something, the first arrancar he passed was going to be torn apart.
 
Zangetsu didn’t encourage him, nor did he protest.
 
He didn’t have to go far before he found an adjuchas, not when every step allowed him to cross miles. He didn’t even draw his sword, he blindsided it with an open hand. He shattered its mask and head in the same blow, slamming it down to the sand. His hand crunched through blood and gore until he was elbow deep in it.
 
He grit his teeth in a growl and wrenched his arm free, moving on to find another. The clawing, itching panic of helplessness just kept sinking deeper. The nightmares he was getting use to, he could work around his propensity to attack things in his sleep, but waking up

miles

away from where he slept? His inner spirits couldn’t even stop it, his own body was betraying him and he was so

sick

of it.
 
The next hollow he came across suffered a similar fate, as did the next. He screamed at its corpse like it was to blame, kicking it. He was just barely holding himself back from tearing it to pieces.
 
He was splattered with blood, his arms and chest were drenched in it, but the anger was still there. There was no enemy to fight, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

“Ya need to sleep, King.”

He returned to Las Noches, having no idea how much time had passed, but he was exhausted, and continuing to kill things wouldn't help him. His anger still thrummed in his veins and demanded action, but Zangetsu was right.
 
He kept his senses wrapped up close, focused on himself rather than his surroundings. He was covered in blood, there was no way in hell he was even going to try to sleep like this. It was his own damn fault and that just annoyed him more.
 
Las Noches might be enormous, but nearly all of the arrancar were clustered in the center. The rest of Las Noches was just a maze of hallways and sprawling rooms. It was almost creepy how empty most of it was, but that just meant his chances of running into others was quite high.
 
Lesser arrancar wisely avoided his path. Whether or not it was because they smelled the blood, he didn’t care, his urge to kill something hadn’t faded much and tearing apart his own arrancar wasn’t something he could abide.
 
He headed straight for a room with water, he didn’t care which, just so long as it was closest. He turned a corner, finding himself facing the last arrancar he wanted to see. He stopped and Grimmjow stared, wide eyed. “What happened to

you

?”
 
He probably could have avoided him if he’d been paying attention, but with the way Grimmjow tracked him, it might have been a futile effort. He said, “It’s not mine.”
 
“What?”
 
Ichigo clarified, an icy edge to his tone. “The blood isn’t mine.”
 
“I can tell that much, dumbass,  I’m sayin’ you look like shit.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed, walking past him. Grimmjow was smart enough to step from his path, but not smart enough to leave him alone. He dogged his steps, shockingly quiet as he followed him.
 
Ichigo found a room with water, not that he would call it a wash room. He washed his hands, then splashed water over his face. He scrubbed at the blood, then leaned on the basin, glaring at Grimmjow. “How long are you going to follow me?”

“I’m your fraccion, ain’t I?” It was a shallow excuse and they both knew it. He didn’t think Grimmjow even knew what he was doing there.
 
He pulled on Zangetsu, and his hollow met him halfway. He materialized on the other side of the basin, purposefully between Grimmjow and Ichigo. His hollow didn’t sound pleased. “Now really ain’t a good time, kitty.”
 
Annoyance flashed over Grimmjow’s face, gritting his teeth. “If I’m gonna fight you it’ll be with my sword in my hand and face to face, don’t group me in with

trash

.”
 
Ichigo could understand why Grimmjow was angry. It was clear he wasn’t at his best, and while it was just instinct to isolate himself, Grimmjow was clearly taking it personally. He didn’t necessarily expect him to take advantage of his weaknesses, not outside of a one on one battle, but others might.
 
Zangetsu stepped closer, some of Grimmjow’s confidence evaporating. He seemed unsure if this was cause to draw or not, feigning nonchalance. “That’s nice, but King would be real disappointed if he killed you by accident.”
 
Ichigo let Zangetsu handle it, taking care of the blood. He was still shaking, something he was acutely aware of as he dealt with cleaning himself off. He needed sleep, but now it was more nerve wracking than usual. He didn’t know if that ‘voice’ had something to do with his waking sleep or not, but he wasn’t eager to find out.
 
Grimmjow cooled off, then asked, “What’s the problem?”
 
Maybe Grimmjow was more astute than he thought. Rather, he hadn’t thought he’d give enough of a damn to remember.
 
Zangetsu took another step forward, still trying to herd him out of the room. “King’s restless. He tries to murder things in his sleep.”
 
Ichigo thought he got most of the blood, looking over at Grimmjow. “It’s not really a secret, but keep that between us.”
 
Grimmjow scowled. “Che. I wasn’t gonna tattle, who the fuck do you think I am?” He hesitated, scowling at Ichigo with a combination of fear and bluster.
 
Ichigo stared back, considering something. It felt a bit risky, but if he'd forced Zangetsu back down in his consciousness once already, his hollow might not be able to stop him if he got up again. That thought was more than disconcerting.
 
This wasn’t just nightmares, this was a problem. He needed to sleep, but if he was this unpredictable, it would be stupid to isolate himself and sleep when he wasn’t sure if he was just going to get straight back up.
 
He couldn’t help but think of Aizen. Only the weak rely on others.

“You know he was full of shit, King, stop comparing yourself to him.”

Ichigo studied Grimmjow, recalling everything he knew about him. It wasn't much, but he could feel his heart through his sword, and that impression would need to be enough.
 
Zangetsu caught on to his intentions, looking back at him sharply.
 
Ichigo asked, “Since you’re determined to be here, can I ask a favor?”
 
Grimmjow sneered. “What, no orders?”
 
“I'm calling it a favor, because there's the possibility I'll kill you.” Grimmjow wouldn’t decline, he knew he wouldn't. It almost didn't seem fair to pose the question when he knew he would agree. It wasn't in his nature to turn down a challenge.
 
Ichigo asked, “Will you watch me sleep?”
 
He thought he might question how strange that request was, but Grimmjow’s eyes slid to Zangetsu. “Why doesn't

he

do it?”
 
Ichigo tried and failed to think of another option. “Zangetsu could stop me before, but it didn't work this time.”
 
Zangetsu didn't look happy, and Ichigo knew it was because he was failing in protecting him and he couldn't think of a way around it.
 
Grimmjow's frown deepened, looking between the two. “Yeah I'll do it. You gonna be able to sleep with someone looming over you?”
 
“I don’t know, but I’ll make an effort.”
 
Personally, Ichigo thought he was tired enough that it wouldn't matter much who was there. He was barely keeping on his feet as it was, despite the undercurrent of anger that refused to leave him.
 
He ran a towel over his face, then grabbed yet another replacement coat. He pulled on his swords and armor and left the room, gesturing for Grimmjow to lead the way.
 
Grimmjow looked surprised he was letting him choose where to go, so Ichigo elaborated, “On the off chance you have to fight, I’d rather you be someplace you feel you can at least defend yourself if you have to.”
 
Zangetsu snorted. “Yer givin’ kitty too much credit. If you-” He cut himself off with the look Ichigo shot him. If he went after him and Grimmjow couldn't wake him up, he'd kill him, it was that simple, and he didn’t need a verbal reminder. Killing when he couldn't even remember doing it

hurt

.
 
Grimmjow brought him back to his own room, which was no real surprise. His reiatsu had sunk into the walls enough that there would be no mistaking it belonged to the Espada. He'd be safest in the places he knew best, and where else but his own room?
 
It was as minimalist as the rest of Las Noches. There was nothing but a simple bed and table, but the room was a decent size. Grimmjow gestured at the bed and leaned against the wall, folding his arms. “There.

Sleep

.”
 
Ichigo took off Zangetsu, leaving both swords out of reach. He did not want to do this, but what other options did he have? Going to the living world would only cause problems for his friends, not to mention put them in danger. It was far, far safer for them if he stayed here, and he cared more about them than the Espada.
 
He stood over the bed, hands clenched into fists. He was afraid, and that only made him angrier.
 
Zangetsu had kept himself firmly between Ichigo and Grimmjow, following Ichigo’s thoughts carefully. If he hadn’t been, Ichigo didn’t think he would have been so quiet.
 
Ichigo didn’t feel any better, there was nothing he could attack that wouldn’t be destroyed, nothing except himself. He moved, and Zangetsu was anticipating it.
 
Ichigo drew his fist back and punched faster than Grimmjow could follow, and Zangetsu didn’t make an effort to stop him. He took the hit, and he only rocked back on his heels. The air pressure from that hit was enough to displace the air and crack the wall beside Grimmjow. The Espada didn’t move or breathe, sweating as he watched Ichigo.
 
He drew back to hit him again, and this time Zangetsu caught his fist in his hand, turning his lips up into a bloody smile. “Ya only get one freebie, King.”
 
They broke into a brief flurry of blows, ending with Ichigo bent forward in an arm lock. “FUCK!” He jerked against his hold, breathing hard.
 
Zangetsu grabbed a horn, shoving his head flat against the ground without loosening his grip on his arm. He was pinned, which both relieved and frustrated him.
 
Grimmjow had chosen not to move, watching with wide eyes. If he wasn’t aware of it before, he was aware of it now; Being in that room was dangerous.
 
Ichigo raked his claws through stone, fighting his hold, but he was far from his best, they both knew he didn’t stand a chance, and that was the whole point.His tendency towards violence was always worse in this form, but coupled with fear, and he was downright volatile. Zangetsu didn’t look happy, pulling back on his arm until Ichigo grunted in pain. “Calm down, King.”
 
Ichigo did nothing, he just breathed, and Zangetsu looked up, turning his attention to Grimmjow. “Tell anyone, and I’ll kill you myself. I don’t care how much it upsets King.”
 
This was a weakness he hadn’t wanted any of the Espada to know about, and now Grimmjow knew almost everything.
 
Grimmjow swallowed, and wisely, said nothing.
 
Ichigo laid there, his breathing growing more level, his rage slowly burning away to a point where Zangetsu felt safe letting him go.
 
Zangetsu stood, still keeping himself between him and Grimmjow, and Ichigo sat up, sitting cross legged. Tying up his limbs was an effort to keep himself on the ground, and it seemed to help.
 
He leaned forward on his knees, his breathing getting shallower. Zangetsu crouched in front of him, and Ichigo looked up. Their eyes locked, and they didn’t need to speak to say what they needed to. Minutes passed in silence, and his bloodlust began to fade into mere exhaustion.
 
Grimmjow spoke. “What do you expect me to be able to do about

that

?” His voice was quieter, still tense with fear.
 
Ichigo’s eyes flicked up toward Grimmjow in a glare. Zangetsu answered for him. “Probably nothing, but if I get pushed aside, you can follow him.”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
There was a moment of silence, something unspoken passing between Zangetsu and Ichigo before the hollow answered, “He’s sleepwalking.”
 
Ichigo got up, the abruptness making Grimmjow tense. He paced over to the futon, rubbing his sore shoulder. Zangetsu hadn’t been pulling his punches, and neither had he; he’d needed to vent, and Zangetsu had given it to him.
 
He laid down on his side, his head braced on a folded arm with his back to them both. He didn’t like having his back to a anyone, but having Zangetsu there helped ease that concern. “Good luck, Grimmjow.” He meant that, he’d need it if something went wrong.
 
They didn’t talk again, and despite his fear, he was already on the verge of sleep. He was just so tired, and when he remembered his nightmares, they were strange, showing him things that had never happened. He blinked heavily, then closed his eyes, fighting the undertow of sleep, but it was too strong, and before too long he was pulled under.

--- xxx ---

Zangetsu

He crouched there, barely moving, watching as his wielder drifted closer and closer to sleep. He

needed

King to sleep, he was falling apart, and there was so little he could do to stop it. This wasn’t a battle he understood, but he understood King. He knew him better than King knew himself. It wasn’t love, or adoration, or obsession that drove him, it was a deeper, visceral thing that urged him to protect him.
 
He had failed too many times to count. King wasn’t just frayed around the edges, he was drowning, and it wasn’t a problem a sword could fix. Both him and the Quincy despised this, Ichigo was about the only thing they could truly agree on. They would protect him..
 
He felt his consciousness sink, leaving him drawing on his reiryoku without King’s input. He had a feeling he might actually fall asleep if he was manifested, it was familiar to Ichigo to trust him to keep watch while he slept, even in enemy territory.
 
He warned the cat. “He’s asleep.” Grimmjow hadn’t dropped his guard, but he might as well warn him not to get too comfortable.
 
He didn't move, monitoring King’s consciousness through his tie to his soul. He wasn't sleeping well, but it was sleep, and that gave him some sort of relief.
 
The time passed by in near silence before Grimmjow spoke quietly. “What's wrong with him?”
 
He was being quiet, so Zangetsu allowed the conversation. “The fuck do you mean?”
 
“Don't play dumb, he's been gettin’ worse and worse. I’m not blind.”
 
Zangetsu didn't take his eyes from Ichigo. “King’s more hollow than you are right now, the thick reishi here makes it a little worse.”
 
Grimmjow grumbled, “That’s not what I meant.”
 
“You saw it yerself.”
 
“Saw what?”

“The consequences for failure.” It was carved into his very soul, and it wouldn't heal. “Ya thought Aizen didn't have fear? Everything feels fear, and King fears failure. You have nothing but your pride, ya don't know what it's like to lose everything.”
 
Grimmjow scowled at Zangetsu’s back. “Why’re you tellin’ me this?”
 
“Cause King won't. He can't do all of this on his own, even if he's hell bent on tryin’. He's asleep, so some part of him trusts you. Betray that trust and I'll break every bone in your body and grind your mask into dust. I'll take away everything you have pride in.” His voice was quiet, but that didn't make it any less of a threat.
 
If he wanted to take over, he could. Mentally, King was weak, but they had the mutual understanding that Ichigo needed control. He’d taken it from him before, and the results had been disastrous. All he’d done was twist the knife deeper, and it was enough to get them to come to a mutual understanding and force them to talk. Without King’s quincy power suppressing him anymore, it had been surprisingly easy.
 
Grimmjow didn't let his threat end it. “I already told you. I'll beat him one day, and I'll do it to his face. I ain't interested in underhanded shit.” And that's why it was Grimmjow standing there and not another of the Espada; he was simple, predictable.
 
Zangetsu said, “That's why King likes you.”
 
“He’s got a funny way of showin’ it.”
 
Zangetsu didn’t humor that with a response. If King saw any other option, he wouldn’t be here, but he was desperate, and it had been a long time since he’d seen King this desperate.
 
The time stretched on in relative silence, and Zangetsu began to hope Ichigo would keep sleeping, that their concerns were for nothing. His hopes were shattered when he felt King’s consciousness stir.
 
His inner world was in turmoil. King wasn’t asleep anymore.
 
Ichigo abruptly sat up, like he’d awoken from a nightmare. Zangetsu clung to his last shreds of hope until he saw his eyes. They were completely black, the yellow cast of his irises conspicuously absent.
 
His eyes widened in shock, not understanding what was going on. Had this happened before? He wouldn’t know, he’d been trapped in his inner world, and King hadn’t run into anyone.
 
He felt the sudden guillotine fall on his access to King’s reiryoku, his form fading away into black mist. He swore, looking at Grimmjow. “

Follow him

, don’t let him out of-” He lost corporeal form, swearing into the empty darkness of King’s inner world. He felt awake, but no one was home, he was painfully absent.
 
Now he was trapped as an observer; King was on his own.

--- xxx ---

Grimmjow

It might have been really fucking boring if he wasn’t so tense. He’d seen White fight day in and out. He’d been on the receiving end of those punches before, he’d been stabbed and kicked and thrown around, he thought he’d seen it all. It was painful to see how wrong he was.
 
White had been holding back so much he felt like a fool for thinking his resurreccion might have been enough. White was a monster, and one he’d never seen truly angry until that moment. He hit the manifestation of his spirit, and he never even saw him move, he only felt the force of his punch flatten him into the wall. White hadn’t even used his reiatsu to back his blow.
 
Aizen had purposefully made the walls in the center of Las Noches stronger, but the force of his blow had nearly destroyed the wall. A lesser arrancar would have been knocked unconscious, they might have even had their bones cracked.
 
His fear felt justified; he’d put himself in a room with a monster, and it was furious.
 
The short exchange of blows between the pair made him grateful White’s inner spirit seemed willing to take the brunt of his attacks. They were so fast, he couldn’t even see them, let alone defend against them. It made him angry, because it meant White was still holding back too much.
 
When White woke up, he was immediately bracing himself for a fight, but he was hoping the spirit would step in to take care of it. He wasn’t too willing to make sacrifices over pride, but this wasn’t a fight he could win.
 
He stepped to the side, eyes widening at the order his inner spirit gave him. He was losing substance faster than he could get the words out, and in a matter of seconds, he was alone in that room with White.
 
He backed away, hand on the hilt of Pantera, and watched White stand. He didn’t acknowledge his presence at all, he didn't even look at his swords, he walked right past them.
 
He followed at a distance, expecting it would be difficult to keep up, but all he did was walk.
 
He walked until he stepped foot outside Las Noches, stepping out into the sand, then he paused, looking straight at Grimmjow. He looked directly into pitch black eyes, his grip on Pantera tightening. He expected a fight, something.

Anything

.
 
White turned and kept walking, and he didn't know what it was, but he got the distinct impression he wasn't looking at White at all. It looked at him, it acknowledged his presence, and it ignored him.
 
Somehow, he felt he'd just barely escaped death.
 
He was sweating in fear, disgusted with himself for being so afraid. He didn't want to follow it into Hueco Mundo, but he didn't want to be a coward either. Not to mention, in more or less words, he'd basically given his fucking word. Why did he care?
 
He had time to think about it, White was just walking, he could catch up.
 
He growled, “Fuck this.” He took a step back, then paused. He found he didn't want to stay. The thought of taking his eyes off White felt wrong. “

Fuck

.”
 
He followed him, trailing very far behind him.
 
White showed up and everything changed, then just kept on changing. He wasn't sure if it was for the better or the worse, but his stubbornness to try to change them was appealing. He talked to them like they actually mattered, like their opinion mattered. It was strange, but not terrible.
 
He remembered Aizen well, the two had a similar feel, but White was so different. He didn't look through him, he looked right at him. He saw him, he saw who he was, and it was aggravating.
 
He caught himself glancing up on more than one occasion, but the sky looked the same. He had a gut feeling this was related, which seemed reasonable. Everything got worse after they found that

thing

.
 
Following him into the desert seemed like something he should do. Was he helping him? That didn't sounds right. Returning a favor? That didn’t sound right either. White pissed him off, but he was strong, he couldn’t deny he was drawn to him.
 
He couldn't stop thinking about it, and he had a long time to think, Hueco Mundo was a big place.
 
The more time that dragged on, the more concerned he grew of his surroundings. He couldn’t feel that thing like White could, and he wasn’t sure if it was his overactive paranoia or his instincts warning him something was wrong. At this point, trying to wake him up seemed like a waste, he’d already followed him so far.
 
White stopped, then bent his knees to run. “Shit.”
 
He disappeared in the boom of sonido, and Grimmjow tore after him. He couldn’t see him, or sense him, but he knew what direction he was going, and he hoped he hadn’t just lost him for good.
 
He raced forward with sonido for so long, he was worried he’d run past him or that White really had changed direction.
 
Those fears were forgotten when he found him standing still, staring straight up. He didn’t look awake, and Grimmjow felt his instincts warned him to stay back. He was so far away, he couldn’t make out his expression, or his eyes, but he wasn’t about to get closer.
 
He stood there for several long minutes, loathe to let White out of his sight, but he didn’t want to turn a blind eye on the sky either. He looked up, searching for anything out of the ordinary.
 
He was so concentrated on the sky, he almost missed the ground shifting. He swore and jumped onto a platform of reishi, the dunes shifting and compressing downwards. It hissed over itself, the ground sinking deeper, then suddenly giving way into a dark expanse. It started around White and continued outward, sand spilling into the depths.
 
He skipped back, not wanting to be directly over that abyss. It was nothing like the menos forest, it was pure darkness, and there was nothing that he could see other than the perimeter of sheer white walls stretching down and down until he couldn’t see them through the dark. Streams of sand spilled over the edge, cascading down into the darkness.
 
He jumped up to get a better look, and he found himself staring down at a perfect circular hole through the ground. It was several hundred yards across, and in the center of it, White stood on a platform of reishi, still staring straight into the sky.
 
Grimmjow looked up again on reflex, and wasn’t sorry he did. He was looking for that same writhing movement he’d seen from the hands, and he almost missed it. The sky shifted subtly, like something was pressing against the surface of thin, dark fabric. The shift was only subtle because it encompassed his entire range of vision, and he had trouble grasping what he was even seeing. Terror gripped him.

Move, move, move.

His breath caught, and he looked back at White. He shouted, “Wake up! White!” He wasn’t surprised when it garnered no reaction.
 
He took a step back, wanting nothing more than to run the opposite direction, but White was standing right underneath this thing, he couldn’t just leave him. He followed him, that was all he’d said he’d do. He should go, he should run.
 
He growled, “This is fucking stupid.” He slipped into sonido.
 
He stopped within arm’s reach of White, tense with fear. He lifted his arm, charging a Gran Rey Cero in his palm.
 
Blue light gathered between clawed fingers, and White dropped his head, dark eyes watching him beyond the glow of his cero.
 
He hit him point black, the explosion of power spilling off White and pushing him back. It hurt him more he thought it hurt White, but it was all he could think to do to wake him up.
 
He didn’t get a chance to try again, pain exploded in his chest, the reishi from his attack fading away, and he found himself looking straight back into White’s panicked eyes.

White’s

eyes, not the darkness he’d seen before. The yellow ring of his irises burned back at him. That was good, then that wasn’t all for nothing.
 
He tried to speak and coughed, tasting copper on the back of his tongue. He finally looked down, seeing White’s arm disappearing into his chest. “Sh-shit.” So this was it, he was dead, all because he was a dumbass and wouldn’t listen to his instincts.
 
“Grimmjow!”
 
“Run, ya fuckin’ idiot.

Run

.” Through his wheezing breaths, he was shocked he could manage to speak at all. Darkness creeped into his vision, and no matter how stubborn he was, he couldn’t fight reality.
 
He felt the sucking yank in his chest as White pulled his arm free. The pain gave way to numbness, and he fell into unconsciousness.
 
--- xxx ---

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.” - John Webster

Ichigo

donotbelong-youdonotbelongDONOT-
 
cast it out
 
DO NOT BELONG
 
CAST IT-
 
He blinked, face to face with Grimmjow. The Espada looked pained, his teeth clenched and bloody. His arm felt hot and wet, and when he glanced down, panic gripped his soul.
 
“Grimmjow!”
 
He’d coughed up blood,

his arm was through his chest.

“Run, ya fuckin’ idiot.

Run

.”
 
His voice was far too weak, it lacked the bite he expected. This wasn’t something the arrancar here could heal, and even if they could, he was so far away, it would take too much time.
 
“

KING

!”
 
He pulled his arm free of Grimmjow’s chest, the feel of it turning his stomach. Grimmjow gasped in pain as he slipped into unconsciousness. Ichigo caught him and lifted him into his arms bridal style, finally noticing the yawning pit beneath him. “

What is that

?”

“Get out of here!”

Grimmjow told him to run too. He had no idea what was going on.
 
Cutting through his own panic, he felt a chill settle on his shoulders like a heavy weight. He looked up, eyes widening. “What-”

“King, go!”

Something was pressing into the sky,

through

the sky.
 
He opened a garganta without conscious thought and fled.
 
He shut it behind him, that pressing feeling of awareness still smothering his existence. He was running from a massive problem, but Grimmjow was going to die if he didn’t do something. It felt more urgent to deal with his present failure than to stick around to face what appeared to be certain death.
 
Then again, it appeared to only be coming after him. Was he putting Karakura in danger by running there? This only seemed to happen when he sought it out, and now, when he slept. It wouldn’t follow him, would it? “Shit.”

“King, what are you doing?”

I can’t let him die.

He did this, and he couldn’t even remember it. He wouldn’t let him die for following an order he gave, not if he could help it. Not to mention, Grimmjow should have left him there, but he hadn’t.
 
All the threats in the world couldn’t have made the Espada do that if it wasn’t what he wanted to do. His reiatsu from his cero was still clinging to him, Ichigo knew what he’d done to wake him up. He didn’t regret asking this of him, but he wouldn’t stand there idle while he bled out.
 
He raced through the Valley of Screams, emerging directly into the sky above Karakura. He had no time to take precautions, he could already feel Grimmjow fading, he was losing too much blood. There was only one person he could think of who could save him, but she couldn’t bring him back once he was dead.
 
He only stopped so he could lock onto Orihime. He was momentarily distracted by the oppressive feeling hanging in the air, and he carefully avoided looking up. Grimmjow first, then he’d deal with the rest.
 
He turned in a frantic circle, sensing the reiatsu of several captains and lieutenants, but not his friends. “Where is she?!”

“Focus, King, she’s right there.”

He realized what was stopping him from finding her; she had two captain level reiatsu’s hovering around her and drowning out her distinctive reiatsu. Toshiro and Matsumoto. Shit.
 
He ran straight towards her, moving as fast as he was capable. He felt Toshiro’s reiatsu flare up, likely sensing the faint arrancar reiatsu dripping off of Grimmjow.
 
No doubt they were camping out around his friends and family to try to catch him when he finally showed himself. This was risky and stupid, but he couldn’t let Grimmjow die.
 
He couldn’t remember anything before finding his arm through his fraccion’s chest but that voice. He shook off the thoughts like water, but the concern remained. At least that feeling wasn’t getting any worse. It merely hung in the air like humidity, present and stifling, but ultimately just unpleasant and harmless.
 
Her window was open, which was good news, and likely because Toshiro had opened it. How convenient. He flashed into sight directly in front of her, passing through the open window to crouch on the floor before her. From the looks of things, they had been trying to convince Orihime to leave.
 
“Kuro...saki-kun?”
 
The fear on her face gave him pause. He’d forgotten he looked like a hollow, he’d forgotten how badly it had scared her in the past. He doubted his expression was making it easier for her to trust he really was the Ichigo she knew, not to mention he was carrying a bloodied arrancar. He could hear the wet patter of blood on the floor, he really didn’t have any time.
 
He saw both Toshiro and Matsumoto in his peripheral, Zanpakuto drawn and released. Toshiro even said something, but he wasn’t listening, he only had eyes for Orihime.
 
He set Grimmjow down, then fell to his knees, dropping his head in a low bow. “Please heal him, Orihime. I don’t have the right to demand anything of you, but please heal him,

please

.”
 
He saw the orange glow of Shun Shun Rikka blanket Grimmjow before he even finished speaking. He looked up her in surprise and gratitude.
 
While she still looked at him fearfully, she could still see some of the Ichigo she knew in there. That relieved him more than he expected it would. He had been worried there was nothing left of the person he’d once been, but Inoue still had trust in him. He didn’t deserve that kind of trust, not when he kept hurting the people around him.
 
He looked down at Grimmjow, regret stabbing his heart. He felt Toshiro’s sword rest against the side of his neck, and he didn’t react. For one, Toshiro couldn’t cut his hierro, and for another, he didn't intend to move before Grimmjow regained consciousness.
 
Orihime shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the mounting tension in the room. “Hitsugaya taicho...do you really have to do that?”
 
Toshiro’s voice held a sharp edge, and Ichigo wondered if he was thinking of Hinamori. “Orihime-san, he isn’t your friend anymore, this is the king of Hueco Mundo; a dangerous visored.”
 
Ichigo glanced at Toshiro sidelong, but he didn’t refute it. He didn’t know if she still thought of him as a friend. In this world, he hardly knew her at all.
 
Inoue blushed, flustered, and refused to meet their eyes. “Kurosaki-kun is my friend.”
 
She sounded a bit uncertain, and that stung more than Ichigo thought it would.
 
Inoue’s brows furrowed, looking down at the hole through Grimmjow’s chest. She spoke softly. “This feels like...your reiatsu, Kursosaki-kun. Did you...did you do this?”
 
He looked up at her in surprise. “You can feel that?” Actually, given that the Hogyoku itself granted Orihime her power, it wasn’t such a stretch that she could sense things others couldn’t, especially when she rejected them. He looked back down at the Espada. “I didn’t mean to.”
 
He could feel Inoue’s eyes on him, and he pretended not to notice. He forced himself not to feel regrets, but when he hurt the people closest to him without even being conscious of it, he couldn’t help but feel regret.
 
Toshiro let them have that exchange in peace, but now he spoke up. “You’re a danger to the worlds, you have to come with us.” His eyes shifted to Inoue. “Healing that arrancar is an act of treason. I’m going to have to ask you to stop.”
 
Inoue looked torn, but she didn’t pull back Shun Shun Rikka. She bit her lip, looking down at Grimmjow with hunched shoulders. “This is all I can do; I heal people. I don’t care if he’s an enemy, Kurosaki-kun asked me to heal him, so he must be worth saving.” She looked to Ichigo, tears brimming her eyes. “I don’t want to see you so sad.”
 
His regret deepened; once again he was dragging Inoue into a world she didn’t belong in. “Inoue…”
 
He looked at Toshiro and Matsumoto. “What you put in your report is up to you, but I’ve been a high priority threat since I conquered Hueco Mundo, to me, it looks a lot like Orihime is my hostage.” He looked at Inoue, his heart heavy. “Do you feel threatened?”
 
Inoue grasped what he was doing, and Toshiro and Matsumoto seemed to be confused. She said, “Yes.” It stung to know she wasn’t lying.
 
He looked back down at Grimmjow and said, “She’s my hostage. If you try to stop her, I

will

fight you.”
 
Toshiro ground his teeth together in frustration, the air in the room dropping several degrees. Ichigo tensed, but when surprised when the warning came from Matsumoto. “

Taicho

.”
 
The temperature became more stable, but Ichigo didn’t relax. They couldn’t fight with Orihime here, all three of them knew that, which was the only reason no one had moved. They were aware he was stronger, he had the upper hand in the situation, and they were stuck reacting to what he did. The precarious nature of his position wasn’t lost on him, and he was in a terrible mood.
 
The situation at hand was one of the only things holding him together, he couldn’t afford to fall apart.
 
Since he wasn’t going anywhere, he had questions, and Grimmjow was still unconscious.

Zangetsu, what happened?

“Yer eyes were black...You go up and walked, kitty followed you, and after awhile, you started usin’ sonido. He found you lookin’ at the sky, then you saw what it was like after that.”

My eyes were black?

Like...Aizen.

“Ah, they were.”

He didn’t know what that meant, but that his Zanpakuto couldn’t access his mind was...troubling. He frowned down at Grimmjow, wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t woken him up. His instincts still bristled beneath his skin, he was running hotter than a live wire, but the fact that Orihime was right there

forced

him to be calm.
 
He could feel the other captain’s converging on their location; escaping from this might be too much to ask for, but he would sure as hell try. He could fight them all easily, but if they had any traps or Kidou or tricks, he might not have a chance. In the end, even Aizen had stumbled over a strong Kidou spell.
 
With how tense he was and how astute Toshiro was, he knew his tense concentration wasn’t misplaced. He was doing his best in a shit situation, he couldn’t fault him for that.
 
He let Toshiro think his sword on his neck was a threat, it kept him quiet while Inoue healed Grimmjow, and that was fine with him. It scared him not to feel the comforting weight of Zangetsu on his back and at his hip, but there was nothing he could do about that.
 
Grimmjow’s reiatsu shifted, and Ichigo tensed. He groggily opened his eyes, blinked in confusion, then they shot open. He surged into motion to attack the closest person, but Ichigo was expecting this. He moved, ignoring Toshiro’s sword, and flattened Grimmjow by the throat, pinning his right arm to the ground so he couldn’t draw Pantera. He didn’t put any weight on his neck, he only asserted it would be a terrible idea to move.
 
Grimmjow stared up at him with wide eyes, likely trying to remember what the hell was going on. He hadn’t let him move that much, so his wounds weren’t aggravated, but he’d broken Orihime’s hold over Shun Shun Rikka. She had backed up a few steps, arms wrapped around herself in fear.
 
He didn’t take his eyes from Grimmjow’s, but after a moment, Grimmjow looked down to his chest, to the mostly healed injury, and the blood that soaked his jacket and chest. “I was...I was dead.”
 
“Would have been. Let her finish healing you.”
 
Grimmjow opened his mouth to argue, then noticed Toshiro behind Ichigo. He didn’t think the Espada had ever seen a captain in person before, but he knew the haori and reiatsu sort of sealed the deal. He asked, “Where the hell am I?” He tried to sit up again, obviously uncomfortable being on his back in a room full of potential enemies.
 
A very inhuman growl turned over in his chest. “Let her finish.

Be still.

”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened and he shut his mouth, staring at Ichigo in both frustration and fear.
 
Ichigo sat back, letting Grimmjow go. This time, the Espada didn’t move, although he was breathing a little harder. He looked back up at Inoue. “Orihime. Please.”
 
She blinked, then looked down at the Espada like he was a viper about to lunge.
 
Ichigo promised. “He won’t hurt you.

Please, Inoue

.”
 
Grimmjow looked ill, and it had little to do with his injuries. Getting healed by a frightened human was probably a kick to his already battered ego, especially when he was being forced to lie there and take it. Ichigo would have to live with Grimmjow knowing his secret if things went their way, but he couldn’t see himself taking any other path.
 
She lifted her hands and took a hesitant step closer, the light of Shun Shun Rikka settling over him once again. Grimmjow stared down at her handiwork with a fearful look, likely because he couldn’t understand what she was doing. It didn’t feel like healing,
 
The other captains were almost on top of them, and they weren’t done here. He murmured, “Zangetsu.”
 
He materialized his sword with a spiritual tug, who appeared next to Orihime in a crouch. She jumped, but it didn’t break her concentration in healing Grimmjow. Matsumoto and Toshiro settled into a battle ready stance, still unsure what to make of this.
 
His hollow wasn’t happy, he could feel the turmoil in Ichigo’s heart, the pain, the fear, the regret... He met Ichigo’s eyes, far from amused, then reached for Zangetsu and drew it slowly. Toshiro took a step to the side, keeping Ichigo between him and Ichigo’s inverted twin. Zangetsu disappeared and reappeared on the windowsill.
 
Toshiro shifted his stance so he could keep both of them in his sight, clearly distraught that he hadn’t been able to track Zangetsu’s movement. The young taicho’s brows fell in concern, but when Zangetsu leapt from the window, he didn’t follow. He put his sword back at Ichigo’s neck. “What was that?”
 
He said, “My Zanpakuto. Someone’s got to keep all of you busy. I told you, I’m not leaving until he’s healed. I’m not here to fight.”
 
Toshiro argued. “We can’t just let you go.”
 
“Ah. That’s fine.”
 
He felt the captain’s intercept Zangetsu, who was being flashy to keep them away. All he had to do was buy time, and while he usually enjoyed fighting, today, he knew his hollow was feeling his distress, and he took no joy away from this.
 
Grimmjow scowled up at Ichigo, questions written all over his face, and Ichigo didn’t shy away from it. He ignored Inoue and the shinigami. He filled him in the best he could. “I didn’t stick around to see what happened, but I feel it.”
 
Grimmjow frowned, accepting that answer, then asked, “We’re in the Living World?”
 
With how little reishi there was, he hoped that was obvious. He dipped his head in a nod, looking down at Toshiro’s sword when the blade brushed his neck. He’d nearly forgotten it was there. “We are.”
 
Orihime watched Grimmjow fearfully. “Ummm, Kurosaki-kun...feel what?”
 
He looked from her to Matsumoto. “Did you get any reports from Mayuri about suspicious readings in the sky? Say...a few minutes ago?”
 
She frowned, and he took that to be an affirmative.
 
He looked at the ground, thoughtful. “I see.”
 
Toshiro demanded. “What does that mean?”
 
“I’m not the problem here,

that

is.” He didn’t expect them to believe him, but he was far from their biggest concern.
 
Inoue was restoring Grimmjow’s reiatsu, but it was a slow process. He was feeling better, he could see it in the rise and fall of his chest. He’d seen Grimmjow tired and beaten, he knew what he looked like at his peak and at his limit, and he would have to say he was closer to 50%. His wounds were close to healed, but it would take time to replace reiatsu.
 
He abruptly stood, and Toshiro didn’t know how to react. Ichigo was on him in a heartbeat, catching his downward strike and breaking his sword between his fingers. He dropped the blade and apologized. “Sorry, but I don’t have time to waste here.”
 
He appeared behind Matsumoto with a burst of sonido, hitting her in the back of the neck with the side of his hand. Inoue gasped, Toshiro calling for Matsumoto in shock. He caught the fukutaicho before she hit the ground, laying her down gently. He reassured them both. “She’s fine, I just knocked her out.”
 
Grimmjow stood, taking that as permission enough to move. Ichigo’s abrupt attack had surprised Inoue, breaking her concentration, but Grimmjow was basically back to normal. The Espada rubbed his fingers over his chest, having a hard time accepting he wasn’t dead. He towered over Inoue at his full height, and now that he was standing, she backed into the wall in fear.
 
Grimmjow scowled at her, but said nothing. Ichigo stepped between Inoue and Grimmjow for her benefit, his gaze softening. “Thank you, Inoue.” It was too much to expect Grimmjow to thank anyone, but that he wasn’t trying to kill or insult her was gratitude enough.
 
She watched him with wide eyes, then begged, “Please come back.”
 
“Don’t look at me like that Inoue...I always come back.”
 
He turned his attention to Grimmjow and ordered, “

You’re

leaving.”
 
Grimmjow gave him a sharp look and argued, “I ain’t leavin’ without you.”
 
“They’ll track your reiatsu.”
 
Grimmjow frowned, closing his eyes. He stamped down his power until it was barely a whisper, suppressing his reiatsu. He opened his eyes, and his reiatsu was nothing but a flicker. “Now they can’t.”
 
He didn’t know why Grimmjow was so determined, but he had a good handle on his reiatsu, more than himself anyway, and he felt some measure of pride in the Espada.
 
He caved. “Fine.”
 
Ichigo felt Toshiro gathering reiatsu, and he spun to face him. His eyes widened when he saw the hand position he was using. He pushed Grimmjow back, just as Hitsugaya shouted, “Bakudō #73. Tozanshō!” The blue pyramid of light formed around him, and it was far from a threat, but if Grimmjow had been trapped with him, he wouldn’t have been able to break free without hurting him.
 
He wrapped his hand in reiatsu, then backhanded the Kidou, shattering it. It crashed to his feet in shards, the parts of the Kidou that had passed through the ceiling and floor simply fading away. The room suffered some damage, but that was unavoidable.
 
He looked to Inoue with a small frown. “I’ll pay for the damage, sorry.” She just stared, nodding numbly.
 
He gave Toshiro an apologetic look. “It was a good try.” Toshiro watched with wide eyes, but with a broken shikai, useless Kidou, and an unconscious fukutaicho, he was powerless.
 
Ichigo jumped to the windowsill, kicking off of it into open air. He called, “Grimmjow!”
 
“Yeah, yeah.” The Espada jumped out after him, keeping pace with the level of sonido he used. Ichigo could see the battle Zangetsu had started with the captains in the distance, and he was winning with ease. Byakuya’s bankai was the most noticeable of their Zanpakuto, along with a whole lot of Kidou.
 
Grimmjow followed closely behind, questioning what he’d heard earlier. “Kurosaki?”
 
Grimmjow acted like a hot headed moron, but he was far from oblivious. He sighed. “My name is Kurosaki Ichigo.” He knew too much already, what was one more thing? It was too late to hide the truth from him.
 
He asked, “Who’s the girl?”
 
He answered, “A friend.”
 
“All yer friends that scared a ya’?”
 
He shot Grimmjow a callous look, then looked ahead. “Not in my time.”
 
He was nearly at Kisuke’s when Grimmjow finally asked, “Why did ya’ save me? This is a lot of trouble to go through. What with all the shinigami.”
 
Why? It was a good question. “I didn’t remember doing it. It was me, but it wasn’t.” He didn’t remember attacking him at all, he just remembered the heat of his blood sheeting down his arm, the wet slick of his insides on his skin. Just thinking about it made him uncomfortable. His arm was still dark with blood, his fingers sticky with it. Why was he always covered in blood?
 
Grimmjow didn’t have any more questions, so either he understood, or he could see Ichigo didn’t want to talk about it.
 
He glanced up, but it was overcast, he couldn’t tell what was going on, all he knew was that his instincts were just as unhappy with this place as he’d been when he’d gotten there.
 
He stopped outside Kisuke’s shop and called, “Urahara!”
 
There was a long moment of silence, then Yoruichi jumped down from the roof in her cat form. Since Grimmjow was standing at his back, she disregarded Grimmjow as a threat. She asked, “What are you doing here?”
 
“I need to talk to Urahara.”
 
She looked at Grimmjow, then Ichigo. She dipped her head in a nod. “I see.”
 
Grimmjow bent down, strangely unsurprised to see a talking cat, but he didn’t seem impressed either. “A fucking

cat

? Seriously?”
 
Yoruichi moved, scratching his face in an action too quick for the Espada to follow. She jumped, perching on Ichigo’s shoulder, watching smugly as Grimmjow’s eyes watered in pain. He swore, and she ignored him. “You’ve caused quite the commotion, Ichigo. Is that your hollow keeping them busy?”
 
“It is. I don’t think they’ve noticed we left yet, but I don’t have a lot of time, Toshiro will tell them we got away soon enough.”
 
She looked at Grimmjow, who was poking his bleeding nose, glowering at her. She studied him and asked, “You brought an arrancar? Why?”
 
“He was bleeding out.”
 
She looked at him, realizing that was as much of an answer as she was going to get. With all the blood on the both of them, and Inoue’s reiatsu on Grimmjow, he figured she could fill in the blanks.  
 
Kisuke stepped out, looking between the three. “You have awful timing, Kurosaki-san.”
 
“I have awful luck in general.” Grimmjow snorted, taking that as the understatement that it was.
 
Ichigo took a step forward. “Tell me the truth about the Hogyoku, Kisuke.”
 
Kisuke lifted his hands to defend himself, his tone saccharine. “Kurosaki-san, I don’t know what-”
 
Ichigo moved before Kisuke could finish, nearly nose to nose with the ex captain. “Kisuke...I trust you, I consider you a friend...but

do not

lie to me.” He didn’t come here intending to threaten Kisuke, but he was at his wit’s end, and he didn’t know where else to turn to get answers.
 
Kisuke’s expression fell, studying Ichigo. “So that's how it is... “ He looked past Ichigo to Grimmjow, then took a step back. “Come inside before someone notices you, we don’t have a lot of time.”
 
Ichigo eased, not having realized how tense the prospect of a potential fight with Kisuke had made him. The shinigami was frighteningly smart, and if he could help it, he’d rather not fight him. Ever.
 
He gestured for Grimmjow to follow, who stayed just behind him on his right. He seemed more focused on the fight happening above Karakura than what was happening before him, and he couldn’t blame the Espada. He’d much rather be up there than having this conversation.
 
He followed Kisuke to the sitting room, the shopkeeper uncharacteristically somber. Yoruichi relocated to Kisuke’s shoulders, and Grimmjow leaned up against the wall behind Ichigo when he sat across from the scientist. Kisuke didn’t waste time on preamble. “I didn’t create the Hogyoku...I discovered it. I

found

it.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened, but he’d been expecting something like this. Especially since they’d run into Alteza. “What do you mean, you found it?”
 
“I gave something that already existed a material form. I pulled it from a place beyond sight, and it became real. Did you never wonder how Aizen and I made an identical stone?” He looked down at the table. “It’s difficult to explain, but you touched it, you felt what it was like. It’s not something that’s meant to exist. You understand, don’t you, Kurosaki-san?”
 
“Why didn't you tell me this before?”
 
“I had hoped to be wrong.” Ichigo made an aggravated sound. Kisuke was never wrong, he hated it when people held the truth back from him.
 
“

Calm down, King.”

He realized his carved tranches in the table with his claws, and he moved his hands to his lap to combat this problem. No one commented on it.
 
He frowned, recalling when it felt like to touch the Hogyoku. That feeling persisted, and in his exhaustion, he hadn’t been sure. “Kisuke, I don’t think the Hogyoku from my time was destroyed.” Kisuke stared at him, listening intently. “I think it merged with me, and now I think it’s asserting its will over mine.”
 
Kisuke’s leaned forward, eyes shadowed by his hat. “Why do you believe that, Kurosaki-san?”
 
Ichigo looked to Grimmjow. “Tell him what you just saw.”
 
The Espada crossed his arms, looking at Kisuke with a scowl. “He woke up, but there wasn’t anyone in there. His eyes were all black. Not like a hollow, there was nothin’. Then he walked for miles, and didn’t remember a damn thing.”
 
Ichigo looked back to Kisuke. This would be new to Grimmjow, but what was one more thing on top of the heaps of things he wasn’t supposed to know? “Aizen’s eyes looked like that for awhile when he merged with the Hogyoku. I keep hearing a voice in my head. It said ‘I don’t belong’. ‘Cast it out.’ I don’t know what that means, I can only guess.”
 
Kisuke made a thoughtful sound, and it didn’t sound promising. He said, “If it wasn’t destroyed…” He started over. “I believe the Hogyoku that Aizen discovered is a twin to my own. You said the Hogyoku you used to come to this time was a merged version of both of the Hogyoku, yes?”
 
“Yeah. Mine was fully awakened, and it was much stronger.”
 
“I believe the Hogyoku to be connected to Alteza. I’m just unsure how, and something that can change reality like that...Having more than one could be disastrous.”
 
Ichigo grit his teeth, dropping his head in his hand. “

Shit

.”
 
“Kurosaki-san...you understand what this means?”
 
Grimmjow spoke up. “I don’t fucking get it, what are you talkin’ about?”
 
Ichigo ran his hand through his hair, as much as his horns would allow, and glanced back. ”It means that one of the Hogyoku needs to go, and one of them is merged with

me

.” He couldn’t die yet, he still had things to do, and he might have problems, but he wasn’t done with life yet, far from it. So if martyrdom was out of the question, that left one option, and one he’d have loved to have considered while it was still easy to acquire.
 
Kisuke tapped his fan on his chin in thought. “Acquiring the other Hogyoku from Soul Society will be difficult, but not impossible. Getting rid of it though...the only way I could think of to destroy it would be to merge it with a soul. It was just a theory, and I don’t think we have that kind of time.”
 
Ichigo recalled the sky pressing inwards and swallowed. He said, “Doesn’t seem like that, no.” Ichigo rubbed at a headache.
 
Kisuke said, “You’ve unintentionally fuzed with the Hogyoku...that should give you more power over the Hogyoku’s will in this time. It’s possible you could send it back to the time, the dimension, that you came from.”
 
Grimmjow said, “That sounds like a huge risk.”
 
“It is, arrancar-san-”
 
“Grimmjow!”
 
“Grimmjow-san, but if this reality is suffering because of it, wouldn’t it be worse not to try?”
 
Grimmjow had nothing to say to that, and Ichigo felt the growing need to kill something. “When I was sleepwalking, if you can call it that, I think Alteza was trying to do something...Maybe it’s simple, maybe we just have to give it back.”
 
It sounded like wishful thinking, even to him. No one said anything, and the silence started to irk him, because it was just one more ambiguous problem to deal with.
 
He felt Zangetsu losing his patience, and apparently herding shinigami was like herding cats, since two were headed his way.
 
He leaned back. “I need to go. Call me when Soul Society backs off. I’m going to plan to retrieve the other half. Any information you have on it would be spectacular.” His tone was dry, not in the least bit happy about this.
 
Kisuke watched Ichigo get up, watching him carefully. “I’ll get you the information you need. It was my old job, after all.”
 
Ichigo sighed and stood. He started for the door. “Sooner is better than later.”
 
“Ah. Good luck, Kurosaki-san.” He glanced at Grimmjow, then added, “Don’t forget about your responsibilities in the living world.”
 
Ichigo frowned. He meant his living body, and with Grimmjow right there, he’d been smart enough not to blurt it out loud. At least Kisuke was a genius, and he didn’t need to worry about him spilling the beans. He assumed he only called him Kurosaki-san because he’d felt Inoue’s reiatsu all over Grimmjow. There was no way to escape an encounter with Inoue without her using his name at least once.
 
He left the shop, opening a garganta and cutting off his reiryoku to Zangetsu at the same time. He felt him return to his inner world, his high strung energy infectious.

How did it go?

“Not bad. It was entertaining, if anything. They weren’t taking me all that seriously, I think they could tell I was playing.”

Well they aren’t amateurs, that’s not surprising.

He stepped into the Valley of Screams, walking with Grimmjow just behind him. He reminded him. “Keep this between us.”
 
“You don’t have to fucking remind me, I know.”
 
Ichigo scoffed, “Imagine how stupid I’d feel if I didn’t state the obvious, and then you told everyone my name.”
 
“Why didn’t you give your real name?”
 
“Isn’t it obvious?” Grimmjow said nothing, so he continued, “I didn’t trust you.”
 
“Past tense?”
 
He looked back at Grimmjow. “I trust you enough.”
 
They walked in silence until they reached Hueco Mundo, neither looking forward to it. He purposefully opened a garganta near where he’d left. Not so close they couldn’t run if they needed to, but enough to survey what had happened.
 
Grimmjow was instantly on edge. “Did we have to come back

here

?”
 
“Yes.” He still felt an uncomfortable tension in the air, but the sky seemed to be normal. He could see the edge of the pit that had opened up in the sand from where he stood. Why here?
 
Ichigo stiffened. He’d been in the middle of a battle, he hadn’t been paying that close of attention, and Hueco Mundo all looked the same.

This couldn’t be…

”King?”

Is this where we killed Aizen?

There was silence in his soul, they were thinking. Ossan spoke up. “

Possibly, there’s no way to know for sure.”

He stood there another moment, but he didn’t recognize anything. It was just a feeling. “Wait here.”
 
He didn’t need to tell Grimmjow twice. He disappeared, reappearing at the edge of the pit. He leaned over the edge, staring down into the dark. Sand still streamed into the hole, but he couldn’t see the bottom, he had to doubt there even was a bottom to it.
 
He felt uneasy standing there on the edge, so he backed away, returning to Grimmjow’s side. He looked back just once, then turned towards Las Noches, Grimmjow eagerly falling into step behind him. He slipped into a slow sonido, moving at a pace that didn’t push Grimmjow too hard.
 
He knew the Espada was grateful, but he’d never admit it. He waited a bit before he broached the subject. “I still need sleep.”
 
Grimmjow growled. “You saw how well that turned out, what the fuck do you want me to do about it?”
 
“Nothing, I’m not going to ask you to do it again. I’m just letting you know.”
 
“Why?”
 
He looked over at Grimmjow, some of that regret still present. “I promised I’d fight you every day, and I’m breaking that promise.”
 
Grimmjow looked at him, surprised, but covered it up with a question. “How are you going to keep that thing from taking over again?”
 
“I don’t think I can. I intend to trap myself in a box.” A high level Kidou would probably do it, although maybe not for long, and there was no shinigami in Hueco Mundo to use it on him. He could have asked Kisuke, but he had enough on his plate, and it wasn’t his specialty.
 
“

A box.

” Grimmjow looked at him skeptically.
 
“A barrier, but I only know one person strong enough to do it.” He planned on retrieving his swords and leaving. He was asking for favors from a lot of people recently, he didn’t like relying on people.
 
Las Noches came into sight and Grimmjow asked, “Where are you going to go?”
 
He looked at him and considered lying, then thought better of it. He’d nearly gotten himself killed over him, he deserved better. “Back to Karakura.”
 
“I’m going with you.”
 
He raised a brow. Well that was assertive.
 
He argued, “It’s boring as shit just waiting around for you to come back. I’m going with you.”
 
He looked at him, weighing his resolve. It sounded like an excuse, but he really did look like he wanted to go. In all fairness, he wasn’t thrilled to go alone. He muttered, “

Che

. I bring you back from the dead and you think you’re in charge.”
 
“Shut up.”
 
He rolled his eyes. “You can come, but you do what I say. You’re not at your best, but the visoreds will be.”
 
“I ain’t helpless, you don’t have to tell me!” A look of realization crossed his face and he asked, “Why are we going all the way back to Las Noches if we’re just going straight back to Karakura?”
 
“I want my swords back.”
 
Grimmjow looked at him like he’d forgotten, noting that his weapons were indeed absent. He didn’t really need them to fight, but Zangetsu had always been a constant in his life, and he wanted his swords back.

“I’m flattered, King.”

Shut up.

They got to Las Noches, once again cleaned the blood off of themselves, and he was stopped by a messenger that seemed more than a little relieved to have found him. He knew he was sent by Szayel, and he let him get the message out before he explained he couldn’t stick around. He knew there was probably all sorts of funny business happening in the desert, but he didn’t have time to look into it.
 
He sent the arrancar back with the message to monitor the situation, but to stay the hell away from it. That much should be obvious, but Szayel was a crazy bastard.
 
He opened a garganta back to Karakura, frustrated that he kept hopping back and forth, and he still hadn’t gotten to see his friends on better terms. There was a high chance this wouldn’t pan out, so he wanted to try now so he didn’t run out of time to test his other options.
 
They stepped out of the garganta just outside of town, and Ichigo immediately cast his senses out for the visoreds. He felt a conspicuously empty place in his search, a sort of non awareness he’d always associated with Hacchi’s barriers. They hadn’t changed locations, which bode well. If they trusted him enough to stay in one place, then maybe this wasn’t a waste of time.
 
He didn’t want to go beg the visoreds for help, but pride be damned, he needed sleep, and he was running out of options. The couple of hours he’d snagged hadn’t done him much good, he felt awful, and his temper was set to a hair trigger.
 
He stepped into sonido, running before the twice damned shinigami could swarm them. Grimmjow’s reiatsu was carefully hidden, and his was just as invisible to others as it always was. They stopped just within the warehouse district, walking the rest of the way.
 
Grimmjow spoke up. “There isn’t anything here.”
 
“Barrier.” That was all the explanation he cared to give.
 
He wished he could give them some sort of heads up, but he had no way to contact them. He didn’t want them to expect an attack or be too startled by his appearance, but if he lowered his reiatsu, the entire town would feel it, and he was trying to be sneaky. The last thing he wanted was to lead the shinigami directly to the visoreds.
 
They walked in silence, until Ichigo found himself standing just before their base. Grimmjow stood just behind him, hands in his pockets, but he could tell he was tense. He’d volunteered to shadow him directly into enemy territory, he would be tense too. Truth be told, he was glad he was there. He didn’t have many options for the company he kept, but at least Grimmjow was sturdy and somewhat trustworthy. He wouldn’t leave him alone in a room with his family, God no, but he trusted him to watch his back.
 
He reached out slowly, using his awareness to judge where the barrier stopped and started. This was probably going to hurt. He couldn’t exactly knock, this would have to be good enough.
 
He touched it, and the reaction was just as volatile as he expected. He winced, the entire barrier shuddering and sparking around his fingers. He pulled his hand back and waited. The reishi clung to his fingers, slowly dissipating in his aura. Hacchi’s barriers were good, the best, and he had to hope it would be enough to contain him. If they even agreed to help.
 
Shinji suddenly kicked open the door, Zanpakuto on his shoulder. He stood just outside of it, one hand in his pocket, and studied Ichigo. “Risky, coming here when the shinigami are crawling all over town looking for you.”
 
“Sorry.”
 
“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.” He tapped his sword on his shoulder, glaring at Grimmjow. “You just had to bring an arrancar with you too, didn’t you? What do ya want Kurosaki?”
 
“Have you talked to Kisuke recently?”
 
Hirako narrowed his eyes, brows furrowing. No, then. Ichigo tried not to sigh. He continued, “It’s a long story, but I have a favor to ask, and no one else to turn to.”
 
He hated admitting that out loud, he could feel Grimmjow’s eyes on him, he could see Hirako studying him just a bit too intently. Hirako commented, “Ya look like shit. That have something to do with it?”
 
His tone was thick with sarcasm. “

Thanks

.”
 
He wasn’t expecting Grimmjow to say anything, he probably should have told him to keep his mouth shut. Grimmjow said, “I don’t know if you’re friends or what, but it’s in everyone’s best interest that you fuckin’ do something.”
 
Hirako titled his head. “Ohhhh, is that so? I don’t much like being told what to do,

arrancar

.”
 
Ichigo glared back at Grimmjow, and he just glared back. Mouthy shit. He looked back at Hirako. “It’s simple really. I need to sleep.”
 
Hirako frowned. “Are you messin’ with me?”
 
Ichigo grit his teeth. “No! I fall asleep and I get right back up. I’m...” What was the word?
 
“Possessed?” Grimmjow offered.
 
It sounded stupid when he said it like that, but he couldn’t think of another word. “Sure, possessed.”
 
Hirako scowled. “You can’t be serious. By what?”
 
Ichigo pointed at the sky. “I dunno, something on the border of both worlds. It has to do with the Hogyoku.”
 
Hirako snapped, “Why the hell would I want to get involved with that?”
 
Grimmjow snarled. “You’re already involved. You’ve got instincts don’t you? You can’t feel that something’s wrong? If he sleeps and gets up again, he’ll go wake that

thing

up.”
 
Hirako frowned, looking between the pair. “Yer not makin’ much sense.”
 
Ichigo let out an aggravated snarl, turning away. His hands were clenched into fists so tightly his claws dug into his palms. Blood dripped on the ground, and he frowned down at it. Why was there

always

blood?
 
He looked over, noticing Grimmjow had put distance between them. He didn’t blame him for being cautious, it was only smart.
 
He let out a slow breath. Calm down. Calm down.
 
Slowly, he unclenched his hands, pulling his claws from his palms. This wasn’t the impression he wanted to make, but he couldn’t deny his control was slipping the longer he went without sleep.
 
He turned back to Hirako and said, “I’ll start from the beginning if I have to, but I’m exhausted, and if you’re going to turn me away anyway, I’m not going to waste my time, Shinji.”
 
Shinji’s scowl deepened. “

Try

to explain it then.”
 
Ichigo tried to sum it up as briefly as possible. “I’m merged with the Hogyoku, I can’t get rid of it, and Alteza is using it to possess me. I don’t know what it was doing, but it didn’t look good. I’m too strong to simply stop, but Hacchi’s barriers might be strong enough to cage me in. That’s all there is to it. You can help me, or send me on my way, but don’t waste my time, I don’t have a lot of it.”
 
Shinji frowned at him, then kicked the door open all the way. The others weren’t too far inside, they’d been listening. Shinji asked them. “You catch all that?”
 
Hacchi watched Ichigo with furrowed brows. “Whatever your energy is, it’s dense and powerful, just touching the barrier made it unstable. I’d like to try to help, but I’m uncertain of how useful I would be.”
 
Ichigo glanced over at Grimmjow, who was edging closer now that he was calming down. “Better than what I’ve got. You don’t wanna hear my backup plan.”
 
Hacchi regarded him, silently calculating. He looked to Shinji. “I’m going to let him in.”
 
Shinji made an irritated sound and stalked inside the warehouse. “Suit yourself.”
 
An opening split apart in the barrier, and Ichigo stepped in before they changed their mind, Grimmjow in tow.
 
He noticed that the visoreds backed away once he was inside, all except for Shinji and Hacchi. They might not be able to sense his reiatsu, but he must look awfully upset to get nearly all of them to distance themselves.
 
He sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” He was use to having Grimmjow behind him, but he shifted to keep all of the visored in view when they scattered.
 
Shinji said, “Drop the hollowfication, it’ll make this go smoother.”
 
He didn’t like being ordered around, but he was right. He’d spent nearly all his time like this, he nearly forgot. He glanced at Grimmjow, who was suddenly very interested in the conversation.

“Cat’s already outta the bag, King, it’s not like we can’t wipe the floor with him even just in shikai.”

He let his power go, dark reiatsu visibly swirling away. His regular shikai coat reformed beneath the Espada jacket he’d taken, so that was convenient. His hair was short again, his claws and irises back to normal, and the hole in his chest sealed up. The fatigue hit him harder than he expected, not having realized how much he’d been leaning on his hollow power.  
 
Grimmjow stared at him with wide eyes. “You look different.”
 
Ichigo gave him an incredulous look. “Of course I do. Told you I was a shinigami, what were you expecting?” From the look on his face, not this, apparently. He knew he was a good deal less frightening in his form, but that was fine, Grimmjow proved he was loyal, and that was all that mattered at the moment.
 
Hiyori growled. “What’s the arrancar doin’ here anyway? Hacchi agreed to help the

strawberry

, he doesn’t need to be here.”
 
Grimmjow stepped forward and snapped, “I go where he goes! I’m his fraccion.”
 
Hiyori reached for her Zanpakuto. “Who the hell cares what you are?”
 
Grimmjow reached for his own in response, and Ichigo barked a warning. “

Grimmjow

.”
 
The Espada reluctantly let it go, grinding his teeth together. Since Ichigo hadn’t bothered to leash his tongue, he kept talking. “He’s King of Hueco Mundo, you think I was just gonna let him waltz in here by himself?”
 
That was news to Ichigo; that the Espada decided to take it upon himself to defend him was interesting. Against a handful of visoreds at full strength, he wouldn’t stand a chance, but it was the thought that counted. He was going to be vulnerable, and it did feel a bit better to know someone was on his side.
 
Shinji looked to Ichigo for confirmation. “Is he bein’ serious?”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “About Hueco Mundo?”
 
Kensei snapped, “

Don’t play dumb

.”
 
Ichigo said, “Yes, I’m king of Hueco Mundo, yes, Grimmjow will do something stupid to you try to kick him out.”
 
Shinji’s eyes narrowed. “You could have led with that, this changes things.”
 
“Does it?” Ichigo asked, “You were never one for politics, and I’m here as Kurosaki Ichigo, not as king of Hueco Mundo.” He aimed that last part at Shinji

and

Grimmjow, making it clear he didn’t want him to fight on his behalf. Grimmjow was here as an observer, and he’d

just

kept him from biting the bullet, he didn’t want him to tempt fate again so soon.
 
Hirako huffed, spinning his sword in hand. “Guess yer not wrong.”
 
Hiyori started. “We can’t-”
 
“Let it be, Hiyori.” Shinji started for the training grounds, and after an unspoken signal from the group, Ichigo followed. Grimmjow was right behind him, his hands stuffed in his pockets, an irritated scowl plastered over his face, but he was behaving.
 
Shinji jerked his thumb to the side. “Zanpakuto off. I’m going to use Kido to make you sleep.”
 
It wasn’t a suggestion, Ichigo knew this was just an announcement of intention. He didn’t like the idea of being forced to sleep. At all.

“Relax, King.”

He unsheathed Zangetsu, stabbing it into the ground beside him, then did the same for the trench knife. He dropped it, and the blade sank into the ground. Grimmjow stood by his weapons, to guard them or because they were more familiar than the visored, who knew. He didn’t look happy about all this, but he seemed to understand the necessity.
 
Ichigo stepped up to Hirako, warning him. “Don’t hurt my Espada. I

just

fixed him.”
 
“Don’t worry about him, Kurosaki, worry about yourself.”
 
Ichigo let out a soft sound of annoyance, but didn’t waste time arguing. The more time he wasted, the more he would start to panic.
 
Hirako lifted his hand directly in front of Ichigo’s face, gathering reiatsu in his palm. Ichigo’s stomach flipped, and he clamped down on the instinct to run or fight, tightening his hands into fists. Shinji spoke. “Inemuri.”
 
Ichigo didn’t have time to panic, he felt his consciousness stolen from him as he was yanked down into darkness.

--- xxx ---
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You have created a monster and it will destroy you.” -Garrett Fort
 --- xxx --- 
Shinji spoke. “Inemuri.”
 
Ichigo didn’t have time to panic, he felt his consciousness stolen from him as he was yanked down into darkness.
 
Grimmjow
 Standing in a room full of powerful visoreds wasn’t his idea of a good time, but he’d rather be there than not. Their reiatsu was easily on par with an Espada, and now he understood why Kurosaki kept calling them all weak. If Kurosaki could bring him here half dead, defend him, and then face off against their captains and lieutenants with no weapons, then he really was pathetic. He knew it was all part of the plan to knock Kurosaki unconscious, but he still felt a ripple of fear when the light went out in his eyes. If these visoreds attacked him, he was dead. He just had to trust that Kurosaki knew what he was doing. He didn’t think he’d go along with this if they were just going to kill him, but it didn’t do much to reassure him. The blonde one, Shinji, caught Kurosaki before he hit the ground. He laid him down, then jumped back. “Hacchi!” He watched the giant one do something with his hands, an orange barrier springing up around Kurosaki. The barrier flickered a little around the edges, but held. Hacchi said, “Normally, I would say I could keep this up indefinitely, but I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to hold it when he wakes up.” Shinji watched Kurosaki a moment, then nodded. “Let me know if anything changes, Hacchi.” Shinji took a seat on a rock, looking over at Grimmjow. He asked, “How long does this take?” Grimmjow looked from Shinji to Kurosaki. “No idea. Last time it took about an hour before he got back up.” Shinji got comfortable, occasionally glancing to Hacchi to see how he was doing. From Grimmjow’s perspective, the giant seemed like he could keep this up all day. Lisa lowered her book and looked at Grimmjow. “You feel kind of weak. Why’re you even here?” He bared his teeth in a snarl. “Fuck off.” His reiatsu was coming back, but it was taking its sweet time, and he didn’t have to prove anything to her. She frowned, lifting her book and going back to reading. Hiyori was crouched close to where Shinji had decided to perch. She muttered, “Strawberry can’t actually be king of Hueco Mundo, no way.” Grimmjow growled. “You have no idea how strong he is.” He felt like defending him, it’s not like Kurosaki would ever know. Actually, he was standing right next to his Zanpakuto, maybe he would? He eyed the swords, taking a step to the side. Shinigami were strange, what did he know? Hiyori snapped back. “Ya can’t feel his reiatsu either, right? How the fuck would you know?” He narrowed his eyes, really wishing he could fight the bitch, but she was in a whole pack of these visoreds. He didn’t think there was a way that could go down in a way he would come out on the other side alive. He was starting to understand Kurosaki’s insistence that they function as a pack, not solitary hunters. He said, “I fight him every day, he’s ludicrously strong.” Hiyori taunted. “Maybe you’re just weak, huh?” Shinji watched Grimmjow and warned, “Stop teasing the arrancar, Hiyori.” Grimmjow ground his teeth. Kurosaki ordered him not to fight, but who knew it would be this hard? “He defeated all of us without even trying, do you think we’d follow an outsider for no reason?” He glared at Kurosaki through the barrier, infuriated. “Fuck me if I watch him lose to a little lost sleep .” It would only be more insulting if he died of a cold. Shinji gave him a blank look, asking, “You really think that highly of him?” He snapped, “You think I’d be here with you fuckers if I didn’t want to be?!” Kensei got a little closer, brows furrowed. “You do look a lot like us. Are you really an arrancar?” Grimmjow turned to face him, struggling to keep his hands in his pockets. “What the fuck else would I be with a hole like this?” He didn’t like how many of them there were, nor how interested in him they seemed to be. Kensei scowled, looking annoyed by his attitude. “Well, he has one too.” He jerked a thumb at Kurosaki. Grimmjow shrugged. “Hell if I know why, ask ‘im yourself.” The green haired one didn’t seem scared of him at all, in fact, she just looked annoyed. The other two didn’t seem interested in anything but Kurosaki, which was fine with him. The conversation strayed from him, and he couldn't be happier. He didn’t take his eyes from Kurosaki, anxious. He wondered how these shinigami could be so dismissive about this, did they not understand? He’d seen that thing in the sky, he couldn’t deny it was real. Shinji stared at him for a long time, he could feel his eyes on him. He finally snapped, “What?!” The visored gave him an annoyingly blank look. “You’re actually scared aren’t you?” His eyes widened at the accusation, stiffening. It was too late to deny it, it would just make him look guiltier. Shinji asked, “Why?” “You didn’t see it.” He turned to look back at Kurosaki, ignoring the looks they were giving him. He had no idea what he’d do about all this if he was in Kurosaki’s place. For some reason, he still had a feeling Kurosaki could fix this. Maybe it was because he seemed to handle everything else in stride, but he believed he could do it. Shinji didn’t press him for answers, and after another hour, he still hadn’t budged. The other visored had gone about their day, all except for the blonde and Hacchi. Grimmjow was no less anxious than he’d been an hour ago, his muscles drawn taunt in the fear of what he knew was inevitable. He and Hacchi both tensed when Kurosaki sat up. He didn’t move right, he seemed too loose, just a bit too uncoordinated. Grimmjow had hoped he’d get more than an hour before everything went to shit, but that seemed to be wishful thinking. Kurosaki stood slowly, and Shinji called out. “Oy, Ichigo!” Kurosaki didn’t respond. He walked up to the barrier, stopping when his nose was nearly touching the reiatsu. He didn’t move, he just stood there. Grimmjow couldn’t see his face from where he stood, but he knew what he’d see. Shinji walked around the barrier to face Kurosaki, drawing the attention of the other visoreds. He stopped in front of the Ichigo, his hand tight around his Zanpakuto. He questioned. “Kurosaki?” Ichigo’s head shifted minutely, meeting Shinji’s eyes. The visored blanched, taking a swift step back. “Hacchi, how’s the barrier?” Hacchi was sweating, brows furrowed. “Something is pressuring it. It doesn’t feel like reiatsu, I don’t know what it is.” Hiyori stood. “Shinji, what is it?” “His eyes are black, not like a hollow.” Shinji looked to Grimmjow. “You saw this before? What is this?” Grimmjow was sweating, hoping that barrier held. “Alteza.” One of the other visored with glasses and some kind of jumpsuit asked, “What’s Alteza?” He growled, “Weren’t you listening?” He pointed up. “The thing in the sky.” Kurosaki looked at the barrier, lifting his hand to touch it. It sparked and fluttered around his fingers. Shinji stepped forward with shunpo, placing himself before Grimmjow. “What’s in that barrier? That isn’t Ichigo.” Grimmjow’s face twisted in rage. “Don’t you listen? What do you think we were trying to tell you?!” He took a step back, not wanting to fight the very people Ichigo came to for help. He looked past the visored to the barrier. It sparked around Ichigo’s fingers. “Is that gonna hold?” Shinji barked, “Hacchi!” He didn’t answer, so he whirled to face him. “Hacchi!” The giant had his eyes closed, concentrating. Sweat beaded on his brow, slamming his hands together in a quick pattern. The box compressed around Ichigo, losing its form. Orange reiatsu surged around Ichigo, holding him in place only inches from the ground. Hacchi warned. “I can’t hold this for long.” Shinji turned back to Grimmjow. “How did you wake him up?” Grimmjow was still staring at Kurosaki, eyes wide. That barrier wasn’t going to hold, not even two hours had passed. Shinji put himself in his line of sight. “Hey! How did you wake him up?!” Grimmjow’s eyes refocused on Shinji. “I hit him in the face with a Gran Rey Cero, then he put his arm through my chest.” Shinji’s eyes widened, drawing his Zanpakuto. The others reached for their weapons, and Shinji shouted, “Wait! Let me try first.” He drew his hand down over his face, pulling his hollow mask. The white, pharaoh looking mask obscured his eyes and made him look vicious. Grimmjow’s eyes widened at the sudden surge of reiatsu. It didn't feel like shinigami reiatsu at all, he felt like an Espada. The orange barrier around Ichigo began to collapse. The visored lifted his Zanpakuto and said, “Taorero, Sakanade.” The sword changed, extending, a ring at one end instead of a normal hilt. He balanced it on one finger, rocking it like a pendulum, then increased its momentum. It started to spin without the blonde needing to touch it, rotating around his hand in a perfect circle. The visored narrowed his eyes. “Inverted World.” The barrier shattered, flinging shards of reiatsu in all directions. Grimmjow shielded himself with his arms, watching Ichigo in fear. He just stood there for a long moment, then took a shaky step forward. He stopped, and Grimmjow asked Shinji, “What did you do?” “My shikai’s ability is to reverse the senses. Left becomes right, up is down, so on. This is more disorienting for a seasoned fighter like Kurosaki, or anyone that leans on instinct. It causes extreme vertigo and nausea. If he can still move after this, I’d be surprised.” Grimmjow watched the visored warily. He didn’t even want to imagine how he’d fight something like that. He looked back to Kurosaki, and he still hadn’t moved. He hadn’t ever stopped when he was like this before, maybe it was a good thing? The minutes ticked by, and all of the visoreds held their breath, watching in silence. Kurosaki finally moved, turning slowly to face the visored. Black eyes locked on Shinji’s. The visored took a hesitant step back. Ichigo started to walk forward, his footsteps staggered and drunken. Shinji held his ground, but Ichigo was getting closer, closer. He was close enough now that Grimmjow could see he was trembling. That didn’t seem right. Kurosaki abruptly stopped, blinking, and his eyes were no longer empty and black, but human. Grimmjow looked to Shinji, and he kept his shikai going. Ichigo collapsed. He caught himself on his hands and knees and heaved, throwing up nothing but bile. Shinji flinched back when something materialized before him. An inverted copy of Ichigo grabbed his shikai in his bare hand, stopping the blade short. Zangetsu bared black teeth. “ Stop .” Shinji tried to pull away, but Zangetsu’s grip was firm. He yanked on the sword, pulling Shinji closer. His eyes were wide in the promise of violence. “ Stop , or I’ll make you stop!” Grimmjow stepped forward, warning, “Do what he says, he really will kill you.” Shinji hesitated, weighing Zangetsu’s resolve. His blade cracked under Zangetsu’s hand, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. His shikai shifted back to a normal Zanpakuto, and  Zangetsu let it go. He jumping back to Kurosaki’s side. He hovered protectively over Ichigo, dropping his reiatsu to crushing levels. The visored fought the pressure, the best they could, raising their Zanpakuto to fight. Grimmjow wondered why he was about to get involved, he could barely stand under this much reiatsu, and against so many visoreds, if they decided to fight, he was dead. He didn’t dare get close to Ichigo, not with his Zanpakuto so murderous. He shouted, “Put your swords down, or he really will kill you.” He knew that much was true, though he didn’t know what had riled the hollow up so much. The visoreds looked hesitant, looking to Shinji for the final order. Shinji grit his teeth, going against his better instincts. He sheathed his sword. “Stand down!” Hiyori argued, “Shinji are you insane?!” “ Stand down , Hiyori.” Slowly, all the visored sheathed their swords, and Ichigo still hadn’t moved. He was breathing hard, arms shaking under his weight. That couldn’t be from his shikai, could it? He’d never seen Kurosaki this weak before. Zangetsu narrowed his eyes, crouching beside Ichigo with a hand on the hilt of his sword. One of the visored moved too fast for the hollows liking and he nearly drew it, the bandages around the blade unfurling. Grimmjow asked the hollow carefully. “What wrong with him?” He flinched when he found himself at the center of Zangetsu’s attention. The hollow snarled. “King was aware , he was in pain. ” The visored’s behind him had edged closer, but they didn’t pass unnoticed. Zangetsu turned and screamed, “BACK OFF! ” Shinji put more distance between them to be safe. “My shikai doesn’t cause pain, only disorientation.” “It was that thing ! Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your existence torn apart!” Zangetsu drew his sword, but the only thing that kept him in place was his wielder on the ground at his feet. Grimmjow hadn’t ever seen him so angry. He backed up more, not stupid enough to think he’d be spared his wrath if he got too close. Ichigo reached out and grabbed the bottom of Zangetsu’s shihakusho in a white knuckle grip. Zangetsu didn’t look down, he only grit his teeth harder, the air around them both displaced by his reiatsu. Zangetsu screamed his frustrations, disappearing into Kurosaki’s inner world against his will. Ichigo looked up at him, apologetic, but he said nothing. Zangetsu screamed until he couldn’t any more, fading away until he was nothing but shreds of reiatsu. Kurosaki sat, one leg bent, and rested his head against it. “Sorry about that.” Grimmjow could only assume he was feeling the aftereffects of Shinji’s shikai, but coupled on top of whatever Zangetsu had been describing; he wasn’t envious. With Zangetsu back in Kurosaki’s inner world, he got closer, still feeling that nagging urge to protect him. Maybe that was the wrong sentiment. Defend? Fight for? This was a momentary bought of weakness, one that Kurosaki couldn’t just brush off. It wasn’t fair if he beat him like this, that would just be pathetic. He stood over him, and either Kurosaki felt too shit to react, or his presence didn’t bother him. He asked, “How do you feel?” Kurosaki’s voice was monotone. “Like trash.” That wasn’t promising. He looked at Shinji and demanded, “How long does this shit last?” Shinji answered, “Not long, but depending on what was already going on in his head, it could take far longer.” Grimmjow swore. It didn’t look like Kurosaki was going anywhere on his own for awhile, especially since all he’d done was breathe since he stopped hacking up bile. That wasn’t acceptable. The visored looked rattled, the big one in particular looking exhausted. He had no idea what went wrong or how or why, and he wouldn’t know until Kurosaki told him. He asked, “Did you get any sleep at all?” Ichigo hesitated in answering. “Maybe...” Grimmjow snarled, “Fuck!” That was the entire reason they did this, and it was even worse than no help at all. He growled at the visored. “Useless, all of you.” He left Ichigo’s side to retrieve his Zanpakuto. He pulled it from the ground, immediately noticing it was thrumming in his hand, likely in fury. He didn’t want to touch it anymore than he had to. Trench knife in hand, he stabbed the larger Zanpakuto into the ground by Ichigo’s feet. He growled, “Get up.” Ichigo looked up at him from over his arm, but didn’t move. He tried again. “GET. UP.” The visored still hadn't made any move to help, either out of wariness or uncertainty, he didn't care. At the moment, Kurosaki was his responsibility. He lifted his foot to stomp on him. “Get up, Kurosaki!” He heard a few of the visoreds shout in protest, but Ichigo caught his foot in his hand before he could make contact. He stopped him with little effort, so he was clearly far from helpless. He saw his shoulders shake, and for a second he thought he was crying, then he heard the quiet laughter. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard him laugh before, it was odd. Ichigo laughed harder, then shoved Grimmjow’s foot back, nearly throwing him off balance. It seemed the irony hadn’t gone unnoticed. Kurosaki caught his breath, then hauled himself to his feet, using his Zanpakuto for balance. He didn’t seem steady, but he was standing, and that was a slight better than before. He looked like shit; his eyes were bloodshot, he had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days, and he hadn’t. He held out his hand to Grimmjow, and the Espada handed over the trench knife. Ichigo accepted it and sheathed it, but he was still using the khyber blade as a crutch. Shinji got closer, questioning. “What went wrong?” Ichigo looked over at him, then looked to Hacchi. “Lots of things.” He still sounded breathless, tired, but he looked better with every second that passed. His grip tightened on his sword, closing his eyes. His transformation was swift, despite his fatigue. A hollow hole gaped in his chest, horns extending as his hair lengthened. He let out a breath, seeming more at ease. He opened his eyes, staring at Shinji. “I think it almost killed me. It’s never possessed me when I’m not in this form before, I don’t think my body could take it. When you used your shikai, it tried to get me to move, and my body just wouldn’t respond. Either it knew the strain was killing me, or it simply couldn't keep control.” He looked at Hacchi. “Thanks, by the way. You tried your best.” The giant looked upset, disappointed even. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” Ichigo shrugged loosely in reply, looking to Grimmjow. “Open a garganta.” Shinji protested. “You can barely stand, what’s your plan?” He answered, “Get someplace with a reishi thick environment so I can breathe, then try plan B.” Grimmjow lifted his hand, reaching and opening a garganta with no complaint. He was just as eager to leave, if not more so. Ichigo straightened, pulling his Zanpakuto free. He spun it in his hand effortlessly despite his fatigue, replacing it on his back. He said, “Talk to Kisuke, he’ll answer your questions. You don’t want to know plan B.” He turned toward the garganta, then paused. “Thanks. If I don’t die, my offer still stands.” They left through the garganta, and Grimmjow shut it behind him before any of them could respond. Ichigo could barely walk, but he managed without stumbling. Grimmjow asked, “Are you okay?” “No.” The honesty in his answer caught him off guard, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. Ichigo solved that problem for him, he kept talking. “I don't know if it was because I was more shinigami than hollow, or if it was because we were in the living world, but I felt every second of that. I just don't know.” Grimmjow asked, “Are you still in pain?” Ichigo looked at him blankly and asked, “What?” Grimmjow repeated himself, watching Kurosaki carefully. Ichigo muttered, “Zangetsu won’t stop screaming, it’s difficult to focus.” He hissed, “ Shut up .” He kept talking. “Everything hurts; I’m dizzy, I’m tired, I’m nauseous, and my soul aches. If this is what kills me, I swear to God I’ll tear Soul Society to pieces.” He lifted his palm to his head and shouted, “Shut up , Zangetsu, I hear you!” The Espada decided to let him vent. Ichigo raged. “ Your sword doesn’t pitch a fit in your head, you’ve got it easy. I can’t even HEAR MYSELF THINK!” His legs nearly gave out, and Grimmjow reached for him on reflex, catching him by the kosode and setting him back on his feet. Ichigo slapped his hand away, but didn’t comment on it. Grimmjow wasn’t even annoyed, he was worried. “Kurosaki.” Ichigo snapped, “What?” “What’s plan B?” “If I can’t physically stand up, Alteza won’t be able to do anything with me. It backed off once already.” Grimmjow’s eyes widened. He thought he understood now why his inner hollow was so angry. “You can barely walk, that’s insane!” “Do you have a better idea, Grimmjow?” He stopped to glare back at him. Grimmjow had nothing to add, so he turned away and kept walking. He muttered, “That’s what I thought.” “Why not just have that toothy creep use his shikai on you again?” “His shikai affected me , but Alteza saw right through it. If possessing me hadn’t ripped me apart from the inside, Alteza would have killed Shinji and anyone else in the way.” That made sense, damn him, and he couldn’t think of a good argument. He asked, “How am I supposed to put you back together?” Ichigo said nothing, he just staggered out of the garganta onto the sand. Grimmjow had purposefully chosen someplace far outside of Las Noches; the other Espada couldn’t see him like this, he was a wreck. Ichigo immediately fell into a crouch, chuckling. “Put me back together…” He didn’t know why that was so funny, but this sudden change was unnerving. “Kurosaki.” No response. He stepped closer. “ Kurosaki !”  “I hear you. ” The anger in his voice gave him pause, but he walked up to him against his better judgement. “It occurred to me that the Hogyoku is a part of me now.” Grimmjow let him talk. “I probably have the power to fix this, but nothing changes. That means either I don’t have the power to fulfill what I want, or this is what I want. I wonder which it is? Maybe it’s a bit of both?” He was right next to him now, but Kurosaki didn’t acknowledge him. He coughed, doubling over to dry heave again. This time he hacked up blood, which was far from a good sign. Grimmjow asked, “Can the Hogyoku fix you?” He snorted softly, straightening. “I have high speed regeneration. I can probably fix me, but I’m not going to.” Grimmjow reached out, grabbing him by the front of his kosode. “Why not?!” His eyes narrowed dangerously, and Grimmjow let him go before he was forced to let go. Kurosaki sounded painfully lucid. “I already told you why.” He argued, “Yeah, and that’s insane, that could kill you.” He made an irritated sound and threw his hands up. “And if I don’t do something, that’ll kill me too. So fuckit, I’m not going to stand here and do nothing!” He shouted back, “So you’ll kill yourself ?! What kind of logic is that?!” “I might die!” He shuddered and lifted his hand to his head. He looked away and snarled, “Don’t you dare .” Whatever Zangetsu was doing, Kurosaki didn’t look happy, and he looked pressed for time. The visored drew his sword, still unbalanced, but for who he was facing, it probably didn’t matter. Even half dead, Kurosaki was more than a threat. Grimmjow drew Pantera in defense, even if he didn’t want to fight. Kurosaki moved, and even as handicapped as he was, Grimmjow could barely raise his sword fast enough to block. His attack forced him back, the reiatsu he couldn’t even sense slicing into his chest and arms. He bent his knees, bracing himself when Kurosaki drew back to hammer on his sword. Grimmjow blocked, but it drove him to his knees, sand exploding outward in a wave. Kurosaki wasn’t fucking around, he was forcing him to fight. “Fuck you, Kurosaki! I'm not fighting you like this!” Kurosaki disappeared, and Grimmjow whirled, knowing from experience fighting Ichigo that he would be behind him. He found himself face to face with a growing cero. Even if Kurosaki was considerably weakened, he knew getting hit with one of those wouldn't be pretty. “Grind, Pantera!” The wave of power that washed over him wasn't nearly as much as it would be if he was at full strength, and not nearly enough to counter a cero from Kurosaki head on, but if he wasn't in resurreccion, he might actually die. He lifted his hand, charging his own cero. Blue clashed with red, reishi scattering over the dunes and away from the surge of power.   Grimmjow fired his cero, and his eyes widened in realization when Kurosaki smirked. Ichigo fired his own straight up, taking Grimmjow’s cero point blank, and he didn’t even try to guard himself. Sneaky bastard. The explosion of reiatsu threw him back, dropping to a crouch to keep from sliding back. The space around Kurosaki was warped and twisted, but he was relatively unharmed. The visored was breathing hard, his eyes set on Grimmjow in determination. Ichigo hefted Zangetsu and moved again. He was slower, something Grimmjow wasn’t happy to see. The Espada dodged his attacks, not with ease, but it was a hell of a lot easier than when he was at his peak. Kurosaki was projecting nearly all of his attacks; His follow through was sloppy, his footing was off balance, but there was still a thread of coordination through it all he found impressive. That Ichigo could move at all, with any modicum of skill, was a testament to his experience. If this is what it took to get them on equal footing, Grimmjow knew he had a long way to go, and Kurosaki might die before he got there. Grimmjow raised both arms, blocking his Zanpakuto from cleaving into his neck with the spikes on his arms. He forced his sword back, slashing without thinking. Kurosaki didn’t dodge, and Grimmjow’s claws raked through his chest. He hadn’t meant to do that, and the fucking asshole smiled. Kurosaki pulled him into a rhythm, then relied on Grimmjow’s instinct to react without thinking, making certain it was too late to stop himself. His claws were slick with his blood, and the fucker just kept smiling. If he stopped, Kurosaki attacked to kill, the visored wasn’t holding back. The bastard knew just how to get him to fight back. Grimmjow was starting to get frustrated. “Stop!” Kurosaki’s mouth split in a manic smile. “Nah, I’m not done, and neither are you.” Of course he’d smile, he was getting his way. He dodged a Getsuga, lunging forward to try to tackle him. Kurosaki saw what he was doing, disappearing with sonido. He was much slower. Grimmjow could track his movement now, grasping a handful of the back of his kosode before he got away. He yanked him back and threw him down as hard as he could. He knocked the wind out of him, his back hitting the ground and sending a ripple of reishi scattering in all directions. Kurosaki still wouldn’t let go of his sword, gasping for breath. He looked up at him in smug satisfaction and smiled, flashing bloodied teeth. “Sorry...Grimmjow.” He coughed up blood, trying to sit up. Grimmjow ground his teeth and crouched, pushing him flat with very little effort. “Stay down, ya’ crazy bastard.” He was bleeding, but not as much as he’d expect, it was almost strange. Kurosaki blinked slowly, struggling to stay conscious now that he’d lost. He caught him staring, and explained, “Blut vene.” “What?” “It’ll keep me from bleeding out.” He sighed, his voice softer. “I can’t hold him back anymore. Sorry.” He blinked slowly, consciousness slipping away from him. He caught the dark mist in his peripheral, jumping away. He settled into a defensive crouch as Zangetsu appeared over Kurosaki. His face was twisted in rage, sword in hand. His eyes turned towards Grimmjow, and he crouched a bit lower, tensing to fight, but Zangetsu didn’t move. The hollow ordered, “Go get the princess.” “Princess?” “The bitch that healed you! Bring ‘er here!” Grimmjow bared his teeth in a snarl. “How? Karakura is crawling with shinigami.” “I don’t care how.” Zangetsu disappeared, and when he reappeared, pain blossomed in Grimmjow’s arm. The hollow flattened him, perched on his back. “ You did this, you’re going to fucking fix it. ” Zangetsu twisted the sword in his shoulder and growled, a sound that was far from human. Grimmjow glared up at him, biting back a snarl of pain. Zangetsu leaned on the sword. “ Go, now .” There was no room for argument in his tone, he didn’t doubt he would actually kill him if he stayed. Zangetsu disappeared, reappearing by Kurosaki’s side. He let the sword sit on his shoulders, glaring down at Kurosaki with an expression he couldn’t name. His eyes flicked back to Grimmjow as he was straightening, and the Espada froze. Kurosaki’s hollow screamed, “GO!” Grimmjow raised his arms, blocking the sheer force of wild reiatsu he’d thrown at him. He was pushed back, and the threat was enough to make him move. He threw his hand out, opening a garganta behind him. He didn’t take his eyes from Zangetsu as he backed into it. The hollow didn’t even blink, promising more than pain if he returned empty handed. The garganta slammed shut and he swore, lifting his hand to his injured shoulder. Get the girl? If he went back now, Zangetsu would kill him. If he went to Karakura, the shinigami might kill him. “FUCK!” Get the girl. All he had to do was grab her and go. He ran, moving before his brain caught up to his actions and he realized how absurd this was. He wanted Kurosaki to live, he still needed to win. This was no victory, this was a victory that was thrown at his feet. He snarled under his breath. “Fuck you, Kurosaki.” It was easier to be angry. He emerged in Karakura, and he didn’t so much as pause. He ran straight for the princess, moving fast, too fast. There were captains that noticed his reiatsu, he wasn’t bothering to hide it, not after he’d just opened a garganta in the middle of town. At the speed he was moving at, he destroyed some of his surroundings, but he wasn’t going for subtle, he was going for speed; he didn’t care. He was closing ground on her location rapidly, taking note that she wasn’t alone. He flashed out of sonido, skidding to a halt less than a few yards away. She was with a human, one that had put himself directly between her and him with speed a human shouldn’t have, not to mention he was looking directly at him. He narrowed his eyes when reishi gathered around the human. He wasn’t a shinigami, he was living, so what was he? He crouched, looking past him to the girl. Her eyes were wide in recognition. In his resurreccion he looked different, but she recognized him anyway. He saw his name on her lips, but he didn’t hear it. The human with glasses that stood before her drew his arm back, a bow of light blue reishi forming in his hand. He drew back an arrow of pure reishi and demanded. “What do you want, arrancar?” He was calm, he might be strong. He looked past him to the princess. “I want her.” “Why?” His eyes slid to the side, sensing the shinigami converging on their location. He could fight the kid, but they would catch up to him if he wasted time. He didn’t have time for a fight. He looked back. “Kurosaki is gonna die.” They both reacted to that, and they both reacted negatively. The girl looked like she was going to be sick, taking a step forward. “Where is he?!” The one with glasses stepped in front of her. “How do we know this isn’t a trap?” He grit his teeth, looking again in the direction of the captains. “I guess ya don’t. Kurosaki sent me here, I don’t have a lot of time. I can’t leave without her.” The human insisted. “You can.” “I go back without her, I’m dead, you get that? Hand her over!” “Ishida-kun...what if he’s telling the truth?” So his name was Ishida? Ishida narrowed his eyes and said, “He’s an arrancar .” Like that was answer enough. He looked between them. “Yer friends with that asshole, aren’t you? He’s going to die. I’m not leaving without her.” He flexed his claws, leaning into a crouch, claws digging into the asphalt. He was running out of time. Ishida fired a warning shot in the ground before him. He looked down at the shattered ground, gauging how much of a threat he would be. Compared to Kurosaki, getting hit with that would be like a love tap. He couldn’t help the smile that slid over his face. “That’s it?” Ishida drew back another arrow further, and the princess reached out for his shoulder to stop him. “I’ll go.” Well that was a shocker. Ishida didn’t look too pleased. “Inoue-san!” “Kurosaki-kun trusted him...I’ll go with him.” Ishida didn’t take his eyes from Grimmjow, but he grit his teeth in annoyance. His bow faltered, then faded. He dropped his arms, carefully keeping between Grimmjow and Inoue. “We’re both going then.” The captains were almost on top of them, and he couldn’t fight them and expect to run off with the girl, not without them following or killing him. He opened a garganta with a rap of his knuckles on the border of the world. The air split apart and he straightened. “Now or never, brats.” The girl took Ishida’s hand, squeezing it, both of them aware that the captains were closing in on them. They ran for the garganta, and once they were inside it, Grimmjow joined them and sealed it shut, and not a moment too soon. He straightened, his resurreccion falling away. Blood dripped from his fingertips, and he started to walk. “C’mon.” Inoue noticed first. Her voice was small. “You’re bleeding.” Grimmjow glared at her, then looked ahead. “Yeah.” She asked, “What happened?” He grit his teeth. “Kurosaki happened, what else?” He kept walking, not looking forward to going back. He had the girl by a stroke of luck, but he also had this random human. What was his name? Ishida. He glared at Ishida from the corner of his eye and asked, “What are you?” “A quincy.” Grimmjow’s eyes widened, looking at him with a newfound wariness. Kurosaki had weird friends. He walked in silence, exhausted, but he didn’t let it show. If Zangetsu was in a bad mood and wanted to kill him, just because, he wouldn’t be able to stop him. He stepped out of the garganta into Hueco Mundo, not even a few yards away. Zangetsu hadn’t moved, but he was crouched now, staring at Kurosaki intently. The girl saw Ichigo, and she shouted, “Kurosaki-kun!” She started to run towards him, and Grimmjow grabbed her arm, stopping her. “ Wait .” She seemed startled that he interfered, looking back at him in shock. Ishida had his bow drawn again, an arrow pointed at his head. Grimmjow ignored it, all of his attention on Zangetsu. The hollow looked at him, his eyes sliding to Ishida. “I only asked for the girl.” Grimmjow grit his teeth. “Be happy you got the girl at all. How is he?” Zangetsu glared at him, then looked back down at Ichigo. “The same.” Grimmjow asked, “Is he sleeping?” “For now.” Zangetsu seemed less murderous. He was by no means calm, but he appeared to be stifling his anger for Kurosaki’s benefit. The hollow looked at Ishida and asked, “Why’re you here, glasses?” Ishida weighed the situation, then let the bow dissipate. “Like I was going to let Inoue go into Hueco Mundo alone, are you insane?” He pushed up his glasses, his eyes lingering on Kurosaki. “You brought us all the way here, are you going to let her heal him?” Zangetsu spun his sword around, stabbing it into the sand. “Not yet.” Ishida grit his teeth. “What are you waiting for?” Grimmjow answered this time. “He needs sleep. Since he was stubborn enough to let this happen, there’s no sense wasting the chance he made.” He glanced up at the sky, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. That was something. He let Inoue go, giving her a warning glare. “You can fix him when he says so.” Zangetsu hadn’t looked away from Kurosaki, clearly not seeing any of them as a threat. Ishida asked, “Is he...safe?” Grimmjow scoffed. “To Kurosaki? Couldn’t be safer. For you and the girl? Probably.” He stiffened when he felt the princess’ reiatsu touch him. He looked back, seeing that dome of light over his shoulder. He asked, “What are you doing?” She looked scared, but she didn’t stop. “Kurosaki went out of his way to heal you. You’re hurt.” She said it like her actions were explained, but he still didn’t understand. He grit his teeth, deciding he could ignore her. “Do what you want.” The silence stretched while the girl healed him and Kurosaki slept, still on death’s door. Zangetsu was concentrating, monitoring his wielder closely, and Grimmjow didn’t want to distract him. He noticed that the girl restored his reiatsu, which was nice of her. If she could do that while her friend was lying on the ground a few feet away dying, she must be stronger than she looked. She finished healing him, and both she and Ishida sat, shoulder to shoulder. Ishida finally spoke up. “What’s going on?” Grimmjow frowned. “It’s complicated.” “Make an effort.” The Espada frowned back at him, but he didn’t have anything else to do. He pointed at the sky. “Notice anything, quincy?” He looked smart, he waited for an answer. “There aren’t any stars.” “The thing blocking them out is possessing Kurosaki. He came up with a way to stop himself.” Zangetsu turned a glare on him, but didn’t move. Grimmjow started to sweat under the scrutiny, but the hollow looked back down at Ichigo. He swallowed, and continued, “Calls itself Alteza.” The princess asked, “Is that why Kurosaki-kun tried to kill you?” He scowled across at Ichigo. “I tried to wake him up. It didn’t go well.” His eyes narrowed, deciding he might as well answer their unasked questions. “Kurosaki hasn’t been sleeping, and when he tries, that fuckin’ monster takes over.” Ishida muttered, “So that’s what this is about…” Grimmjow glanced at him. “Filled in the blanks, have you?” The quincy pushed up his glasses. “You caused those wounds on Kurosaki. There’s no way he’d let an arrancar of your level knock him around that much unless he allowed you to.” Grimmjow grit his teeth, biting back a growl. The quincy was right, he couldn’t even scratch the visored at his peak. The conversation fell off again, and didn’t pick up again. Grimmjow could only hope Ichigo didn’t wake up. Not as Alteza. That his hollow was still present was a good sign, and the more time that passed, the more anxiety he felt. He kept expecting to look back into the eyes of that monster, but Kurosaki didn’t move. He was yanked from his thoughts when Zangetsu abruptly moved. He appeared beside Orihime, then reappeared beside Kurosaki. She squeaked as he dropped her. He snapped, “Heal him.” She didn’t need to be told twice. She reached for the hairpin in her hair, and the light streaked from it to cover Kurosaki. She held her hands out, concentrating, and kneeled beside him. Zangetsu crouched on his other side, resting a hand on his chest by his neck. Grimmjow didn’t think it was to comfort by any means, he looked like he was anticipating a fight. He stood, his anxiety getting the better of him, and Ishida followed suit. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced. He could feel the quincy’s eyes on him as much as he watched Kurosaki, and he tried to ignore it. The visored’s hollow looked tense, and whatever he knew about what was going on with Kurosaki, he wasn’t going to share. The wounds he’d caused were healed, but he still didn’t wake up. He couldn’t feel Kurosaki’s reiatsu, but it seemed like the girl might be able to, and she looked concerned. He didn’t want to be worried, he didn’t think he should be, especially with how over protective the fucking hollow was. Still, he watched, impatient. He noticed Zangetsu tense, and in a rush of movement he couldn’t track, Kurosaki was moving. The hollow must have been anticipating this, because Grimmjow blinked, and both were gone.

It didn’t take long to see where they went. Zangetsu wasn’t far away, arm tight around Kurosaki’s throat, holding him to his chest. Kurosaki’s eyes were wild, charging a cero between his horns. Zangetsu seemed ready for this. He had a hand on one horn, pulling his arm from his neck just to force his head to the sand. Kurosaki lost control of the cero, red energy spilling over and flashing outwards. Grimmjow lifted his arms to defend himself, but to his surprise, the girl guarded all three of them with that same strange ability. Reiatsu streaked past them, around the shield, and shockingly, they were all unharmed. The power faded, and Grimmjow saw Zangetsu was still holding him down. He was talking to Kurosaki, but he couldn’t make out what was said. The visored looked like he was listening. He blinked, and gradually eased, until Zangetsu let go. He stood and gave Inoue and Ishida a guilty look, then looked away to face Grimmjow. Zangetsu stayed still and didn’t interfere, but he didn’t look any happier now than he had before. Kurosaki crossed over to pick up his sword. He sheathed it, then kept walking, stopping within arms reach of Grimmjow. He looked better. He still looked tired, but he lacked that mad desperation. He could see the gratitude in his eyes, but he didn’t say it aloud. Grimmjow was glad. It would feel too much like he’d done him a favor otherwise. The Espada narrowed his eyes and asked, “How do ya feel?” Kurosaki smirked. “Slept like the dead.” Grimmjow felt a savage smile split his face. He started to laugh, too relieved not to. “I think I hate you, Kurosaki.” The bastard was still smiling, even if it was slight. “We’re even.” “I ain’t keepin’ score, dumbass.” He wasn’t sure if he was smiling or baring his teeth. He was alive, they both were, he still had a chance to fight, to win. --- xxx ---  
Current Espada Ranking
King Strawberry0 - Harribel1 - Ulquiorra2 - Starrk & Lilynette3 - Grimmjow4 - Zommari5 - Aaroniero6 - Szayelaporro7 - Shawlong8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)9 - Yylfordt10 - Edrad Liones

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Stop looking for happiness in the same place you lost it.” -Unknown
 
--- xxx ---

Ichigo

178 min earlier:

Shinji spoke. “Inemuri.”

Ichigo didn’t have time to panic, he felt his consciousness stolen from him as he was yanked down into darkness.

The pain struck him like an anvil. He had the faint realization he was staring up at the sky, but he couldn’t blink or move or scream, there was nothing but agony. Agony and the crawl of sharp whispers inside his mind.

nnnhlirgh hafh'drn ron fhtagn nach' Azathoth throd li'hee ilyaa, Cthulhu y'hah syha'h wgah'n

His body moved, but he had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t like giving Zangetsu control, it felt like something had forced its way inside his soul; his being was too small, too insignificant.

shugg uaaah throdor. 'ai fm'latgh shtunggli geb 'ai athg li'hee syha'h grah'n

There was a ‘voice’. No...it wasn’t one voice, it was many.

Sgn'wahl ebunma Hastur wgah'nog kn'a fm'latgh sgn'wahlog Nyarlathotep chtenff

He was still seeing, but it felt distant, fake. His mind turned inwards, towards the source.
 
He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t comprehend anything through the pain, but his desperation was clear. GET OUT

R'lyeh ftaghu shagg throd h'ilyaa na'bthnk hafh'drn ph'goka ooboshuyar, y-ya fhtagn ep fm'latgh

GETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGETOUT

He caught himself on his hands and knees and retched, his entire body trembling. He could feel Zangetsu again,

he could move

, he could breathe. The sudden absence of that soul rending agony was too sudden, he couldn’t do anything but be. He could distantly feel Zangetsu’s panic, but his senses were too overloaded, it was like he'd been drowning.
 
The only thing that pulled him out of it was Zangetsu’s violence and rage. It raced through his veins like ice water, and he forced himself to move.

56 min earlier:

“It’ll keep me from bleeding out.” He sighed, his voice softer. “I can’t hold him back anymore. Sorry.” He blinked slowly, consciousness slipping away from him.

shugg uaaah throdor

CAST IT OUT

'ai fm'latgh shtunggli geb 'ai athg li'hee syha'h grah'n

YOU DO NOT BELONG

Now he could understand. The whispers had meaning, he’d heard those words before. Ichigo felt a sliver of awareness. He wasn’t awake, but he wasn’t asleep either.
 
This was Alteza. He recognized it, but this time the pain was absent. He felt it reach into his soul, darkness spreading through each and every vein and artery. Maybe it wasn't spreading, maybe it never left, and he was only now aware of it. It blanketed his senses, the vast feeling of wrongness writhing inside him.
 
He wasn’t a silent observer. Not this time.

Leave me alone.

bugnyth

YOU

ph'r'luh

ARE

ph'orr'e ilyaa

ALONE

...

--- xxx ---

Ichigo

Zangetsu was furious, and that was an understatement. From the instant he was aware, he could feel the rage simmering in his soul. Ossan wasn’t much happier. His quincy side had kept him from bleeding out as long as possible, but he’d underestimated how exhausted he would be. From Zangetsu’s whispered warning, he knew he’d be dead if his hollow hadn’t sent Grimmjow to bring Orihime. He hated pulling his friends into his messes, it was how they died the first time.
 
He’d actually been asleep, and being on death’s door kept Alteza from stringing him up like a marionette. Waking up weak and in pain, his reaction wasn’t a surprise, especially not with an Espada level reiatsu looming over him. Zangetsu protected his friends from him yet again; he leaned on his help too much, and too often.
 
“

King, I couldn't feel your mind while you slept. It was like before. Darkness. Whispers.

”

I know

.
 
“

It spoke to you. What did it say?”

Later

.
 
“

King

!”

Later

...His tone had only gotten softer, and that lack of fight concerned Zangetsu enough to shut him up. He felt him fighting to access parts of him mind he hadn't been privy to, and Ichigo knew he would fail.
 
He turned away from Grimmjow, content that he was at least square with the Espada, and walked over to Orihime. He had a lot to answer for when it came to Inoue, and he couldn't stop the regret that stabbed his heart.
 
She took a step back in fear, straight into Ishida’s chest. Ishida lifted his hand to her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The gesture was so automatic, Ichigo didn't think he realized he did it. At least one good thing had come of all this.
 
He knew he looked frightening like this, and he'd given her no reason not to fear him. He was volatile on his best days, and vengeful in his worst, but seeing her back away from him didn’t feel good.
 
He bent in a low bow, and tried to articulate what he felt in his heart. He didn’t think he was very successful. “I'm not sure what it's worth, but I'm sorry, Inoue. I didn't want to get you involved…” He straightened, meeting her eyes. She looked away, and his heart twisted. “You saved my life. Thank you.”
 
Tears welled up in her eyes and she wrung her hands together, still not brave enough to look up. “I don't want you to die, Kurosaki-kun.”
 
He let out a long, slow breath. He couldn’t promise her that wouldn’t happen, not when it would taste like a lie. He said, “I owe you a lot Inoue. If you need me, I'll be there.”
 
He’d had a lot of time to think on it. He loved her, she was irreplaceable, he'd go to hell and back for her, but he wasn't

in

love with her. The sheer amount of self loathing he felt when he saw her was more than enough to crush any hope of that, and his own stubborn need to push her away sealed his fate.
 
Even if it hurt, he preferred things this way. He wasn't blind, she’d had a crush on who he use to be, but the more she found out about who he was, the more that fire died.
 
He looked to Ishida, extending this to him as well. “I’m afraid I might have caused problems for you. I can take you home, but I’ll warn you, there’s the chance Soul Society will label you traitors. At the very least, they might be less friendly.” He looked between them. “It’s your choice what you want to do, and whatever that is, I’ll help you.”
 
Ishida stepped around Orihime, his hand still in hers. “Kurosaki, what are you planning on doing?”
 
Ichigo looked up in thought. “Hnnn…” He already knew, but deciding what he should and shouldn’t tell Ishida was enough to give him pause. His eyes flicked back down to Ishida’s. “Invade Soul Society.”
 
Ishida said, “What-again?!”
 
Grimmjow cut in. “Again? What do you mean

again

?”
 
Ichigo brushed off Grimmjow. “It’s a long story.”
 
Inoue spoke up, voice unsteady. “Uhhh, but why do you want to invade Soul Society?”
 
Ichigo thought maybe she was uncertain of his motives, but he couldn’t be sure. He answered, “I need the Hogyoku. It’s that or kill myself, and I’m not fond of that idea.” He glanced at Zangetsu, who was still simmering in silence. “Contrary to popular belief.”
 
His sword was still materialized as a passive aggressive show of force. Ichigo had shoved him down, refusing to let him force his way into the driver’s seat. Letting him do what he wanted for now was Ichigo’s only way of apologizing.
 
Zangetsu was just trying to protect him, and there was nothing he could do to express his disapproval of his methods that his inner hollow didn't already know. They were one in the same. The hollow knew he was scared, he knew he was at his wits end, and he knew he was dealing with it.
 
Ichigo continued, “I wish I had more time, but I intend to move as soon as Kisuke updates me on the Hogyoku’s whereabouts. I can't afford to do this every time I need a goddamned nap.” He huffed, letting the anger go. It's not like this was their problem. “I don't mean to rush you, but I have to return to Las Noches. What do you want to do?”
 
Orihime and Ishida shared a look, and Ishida said, “I want to help.”
 
Ichigo asked, “Why?” He wasn’t saying no, and he wasn’t planning on cutting his reasons out from under him, he just wanted to know.
 
Ishida said, “You wouldn’t go to these lengths over nothing, and you wouldn’t put others at risk over your own life for no reason. Why do you need the Hogyoku

now

? Couldn’t you have just taken it after Urahara extracted it from Rukia?”
 
Ichigo frowned, not looking forward to explaining all over again what was going on. “I brought another Hogyoku from my time into this dimension; there can’t be two. I didn’t realize the Hogyoku from my time merged with my soul until recently,” He shrugged, “I don’t feel all that different.”
 
Zangetsu snorted, disgusted. “You mean aside from the

possession

?”
 
Ichigo frowned and continued like he hadn’t interrupted. ”The Hogyoku can change reality. I’m no fucking expert, but I don’t think that’s a good thing. With two, things are already changing. I’m going to get the Hogyoku back, and then I’m going to get rid of it.”
 
Ishida looked confused. “Get rid of it? Even Urahara couldn’t come up with a way to destroy it.”
 
Ichigo crossed his arms. “I’m not going to destroy it, I’m going to give it back.”
 
Ishida started, “What-”
 
Grimmjow interrupted. “How many times do we have to say it? There's a goddamned monster in the sky.”
 
Orihime looked up, then back down, her curiosity far from satisfied. “Monster?”
 
Ichigo didn't want to scare her, so he didn't try to explain further. “The thing that’s possessing me, or trying to. Alteza.” He was just assuming that would stop once he solved the problem, but he couldn't be certain, and he didn't really want to think about it.
 
He waved a hand in dismissal. “That aside,” he looked at Ishida. “You can come with me if you want to,” his gaze shifted to Orihime. She wasn’t making a decision, so he decided for her. Maybe that made him an asshole.  “I'm taking you home.”
 
She protested. “But I want to help!”
 
Ichigo didn't have the luxury of sparing her feelings. He kept his tone neutral, feeling guilty, but not wanting her to know. “I'm going to hit hard and fast, you wouldn't be able to keep up.”
 
She bit her lip, considering arguing, but Ichigo wasn't done. “You don't have a lot of offensive capability, no matter how badly you want to help, this isn't the time to do it.”
 
He sighed, glancing at Grimmjow. The Espada had witnessed his weakest and hadn’t taken advantage, but out of everyone, Grimmjow and Zangetsu knew what he was dealing with best.
 
He looked back at the pair and explained, “If I could afford to, I'd bench myself, but I can't.”
 
Both Inoue and Ishida gave him a questioning look, but he didn't expound on what he meant. He said, “You’re both still living, I don’t think Soul Society will do anything besides bother you, but tell me what you want to do about them.”
 
Ishida pushed up his glasses and looked at Grimmjow, then to Ichigo. “Will it be a problem if I stay in Hueco Mundo?” Clearly Ishida grasped how irritating running around to avoid Soul Society could be. He could do it, but it was a pain, and the less he had to beat down their captains, the less bad blood would be between the two.
 
Ichigo saw no reason to lie. “Maybe, but if you want to, I’ll make it happen.”
 
Grimmjow argued, “He’s a

quincy

.”
 
Ichigo shot him a look. “And I’m part shinigami.

Do you have a problem with that

?”
 
Grimmjow opened his mouth, but Zangetsu beat him to it. “Kitty’s just upset he has to share.”
 
Grimmjow bristled. “Don’t call me that!”
 
Ichigo sighed, lifting his hand and opening a garganta. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” He looked at Grimmjow and ordered. “Go back to Las Noches.”
 
Grimmjow frowned, but didn’t wait around. He disappeared in a flurry of reishi. The arrancar was tired, even if he’d never admit it. The more rest he got, the better.
 
Ichigo pulled Zangetsu back into his soul, tugging gently, and the spirit didn’t fight him. He couldn’t thank him with words, it just didn’t feel like enough.
 
Ichigo stepped into the garganta, hands in his pockets. “Come on.” When they didn’t immediately move, he paused to face them, raising a brow.
 
After a moment of hesitation, Inoue moved first, and Ishida followed. The quincy said, “If it’s going to be a problem, I won’t stay.”
 
Ichigo lifted his shoulder in a loose shrug. “Arrancar aren’t fond of much anything that isn’t them. I’ll handle it.” He was still tired, but he’d live. After nearly dying, he was oddly apathetic. Maybe it was the result of too much adrenaline, maybe it was...
 
Ishida started. “Kursosaki-”
 
Ichigo yawned and said, “I told you, I’ll handle it. If they complain too aggressively, I’ll just kill them.” He kept walking, and when they were quiet, he looked back. They were watching him cautiously, and that bit of fear he’d seen in Inoue hadn’t faded.
 
Ishida said, “Isn’t that-”
 
Ichigo cut him off. “Ruthless?” He looked ahead. “What were you expecting? The arrancar don’t listen because they

like

me, they listen because it’s good for their health.”
 
Ishida said, “Then I really don’t think I understand, Kurosaki.”
 
“Understand what?”
 
“Why you took

their

side. They’re hollows!”
 
Why did it always circle back to

what

people were? He sighed, but didn’t look back. “And you’re a quincy, and Inoue is human, and I’m a bit of everything. Who cares?” He didn’t think that answer would fly with Ishida, so he continued. “You saw, didn’t you?” Silence. “I’m dangerous.”
 
Inoue said, “But, Kurosaki-kun-”
 
“If Zangetsu wasn’t there to stop me, you would be dead. You saw what I did to Grimmjow.” There was little inflection in his tone, he’d accepted this was how things were...for now. Living a normal life sounded like a distant dream. He was worried enough about accidentally killing an Espada, let alone a human.
 
Inoue’s voice was small, reaching. “But you were hurt, you wouldn’t…”
 
He stopped, facing them both. “

I would.

Inoue...I don’t

want

to hurt you, but that doesn’t change reality.” He didn’t waver on this, he couldn’t. “I’m sorry I’m not the person you knew. I dragged you into this world, but you don’t have to stay. Go to school, Inoue, graduate, get a job, find someone nice. It’s not too late for you.”
 
Ishida grit his teeth, brows furrowed. “Is that what you think? You think it’s too late to change?”
 
He cocked his head. “No. I think this life isn’t mine. Pretending I’m the same is a farce.” They seemed distraught, but he wasn’t sure he could truly understand why. He’d come to grips with his friend’s death’s once already, but now they were understanding for the first time that the person they knew was gone. “I initially ended up here for selfish reasons. I just wanted to see you again, and look at the mess it caused...I’ll fix it. I can’t give you back the Ichigo you knew, I can’t give you back your friend, but I can try to fix what I’ve broken.”
 
They didn’t say anything, he wasn’t sure that they could. He turned and started walking again, and after a moment, he heard their footsteps behind him.

“King, yer the farthest thing from selfish I’ve ever seen.”

Would I even be here if I wasn’t?

“Maybe not, Ichigo, but look where the Hogyoku led Aizen, and look at where it’s led you.”

Thought you told me to stop comparing myself to Aizen?

“Ichigo! You are not the product of your mistakes, but your choices. What do you want?”

To protect.

“Like I said, King. That ain’t selfish.”

He stepped out of the garganta into Karakura, expecting the captains there to swarm them. He looked to Orihime. “You have about two minutes until they get here. If they ask, you were a hostage.”
 
She fussed with the hem of her shirt and said, “I'm not a very good liar.”
 
“That's not a bad thing. I'm sorry about all the trouble. Talk to Kisuke if you need me, he gave me a phone.”
 
Ishida said, “I’m going back with you.”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Don’t panic, I wasn’t going to leave without you.” He looked back at Inoue and said, “Maybe in the future you can do more, but at the moment, you have to stay. If Soul Society gives you trouble, I’ll help you, Kisuke will help you. You don’t have to deal with it on your own.”
 
She smiled, but Ichigo could see she was on the verge of tears. It ached not to be able to protect people, he understood, but he wasn’t changing his mind.
 
He grabbed Ishida by the shirt, dragging him back into the garganta. He knew with Inoue looking like that, getting him to leave on his own would be like pulling teeth. Ishida protested, but he didn’t let him go until the garganta shut behind them.
 
He let him go and reassured him. “She’ll be okay.”
 
“How would you know?!”
 
Ichigo wasn’t offended by the accusation. He raised his brows. “I’m from the

future

. Something similar happened in my time. She’s a strong girl.”
 
Ishida snapped, “I never said she wasn’t.”
 
Ichigo let that end it, turning around and heading back to Hueco Mundo. Only a moment passed before he spoke. “Do me a favor, don’t use my name.”
 
Ishida caught on quick enough. He asked, “What should I call you?”
 
“White.”
 
Ishida questioned, “Isn’t that the name of the hollow that-”
 
“

It is

. No one ever accused me of being creative.”
 
Ishida asked, “Why did you let me come, and not Inoue? If it’s just about strength, you’re still much stronger than me.”
 
Ichigo looked over his shoulder. “Suspicious?” Ishida said nothing, he only scowled at him. Ichigo faced forward, not surprised by his distrust. “That’s fair.” He explained, “Some of the Espada have never even heard of a quincy before. It would be convenient if they met one outside of combat.”
 
That ended the conversation until they stepped out into Las Noches. Before Ishida could argue, Ichigo picked him up, hoisting him over his shoulder. The quincy let out a strangled sound of protest. “Kurosaki! Put me down!”
 
“Nah, I told you, I don’t have a lot of time. Deep breath.”
 
Ishida tried to twist to see him. “What?!”
 
Ichigo huffed, repeating himself. “Deep breath.” He sprang forward, moving at a speed he knew even the quincy would find uncomfortable. He paused so he could properly heed his earlier warning, then stepped back into sonido.
 
Ichigo only stopped when they were within Las Noches, dropping his breathless baggage on his ass. He said, “If it makes you feel any better, turns out shinigami and arrancar hate that too.”
 
Ishida pulled himself to his feet, panting. “Why would that make me feel better?”
 
Ichigo smirked. “It doesn’t make you feel better to know you’re not special?” He turned away, leading him deeper into Las Noches. He wasn’t surprised to find two arrancar intercepting them. They couldn’t sense his reiatsu, from their perspective this was an intruder, and he had no reason to believe Grimmjow would have given them a heads up.
 
He paused and warned Ishida. “Best behavior.”
 
Shawlong appeared in their path, and he seemed surprised to see Ichigo. No doubt he'd been hoping for a fight. Yylfordt wasn’t far behind him, and he looked just as surprised. Shawlong eyed Ishida with barely concealed distaste. “Apologies, heika, I thought there was an intruder.”
 
Yylfordt was less respectful. “Who’s this?”
 
Ichigo wasn’t surprised the other Espada hadn’t taken action, most of them fucked off to do what they wanted. He said, “A

guest

.

My guest

.” He kept walking, and Ishida took the hint, keeping pace.
 
Yylfordt looked upset. “This reiatsu feels…”
 
Ichigo got it over with early. “He’s a quincy.”
 
Yylfordt looked like he’d been personally affronted. “You brought a-” He was cut off by Ichigo’s hand around his throat, lifting him off the ground. If he dropped his reiatsu, it would effect Ishida, and that was the last thing he wanted.
 
The arrancar’s eyes widened, but he didn’t make any move to defend himself. There was still a flicker of resistance in his eyes, and he wasn’t taking chances when it came to his friends. Ichigo squeezed harder, and Yylfordt looked away. Good enough.
 
He let go, and the arrancar fell to his knees, coughing. The visored hummed thoughtfully. “The quincy is a guest. Am I clear?”
 
Yylfordt got to his feet and stepped back. “Yes.” To his credit, his voice didn’t shake.
 
Shawlong pretended this exchange didn't happen, hands behind his back. “Harribel has been looking for you.”
 
Ichigo said, “I see.” He’d been absent for awhile. He had no doubt it was about Alteza. The oppressive vibration in the air never seemed to leave, it had been present ever since he’d woken up. It complimented the hum he felt in his own soul, a feeling he didn’t like, but was rapidly growing use to.

bugnyth

YOU

ph'r'luh

ARE
 
...
 
He shuddered at the reminder. He walked past the pair and Ishida trailed behind silently. Ichigo ordered, “Gather the Espada in the throne room, I’ve got good news and bad news.” Shawlong and Yylfordt both disappeared in a rush of sonido, not about to linger.
 
Ishida waited until they were gone before he spoke. “How many Espada are there?”
 
“Officially? Ten. But in actual numbers, there are…” He counted in his head. “Thirteen.”
 
Ishida asked, “What does that mean?”
 
Ichigo said, “One is a part of another Espada’s soul, and the octava Espada right now is actually three arrancar, if only for their ability.”
 
“You have control over all of them?”
 
Ichigo glanced back at the question. He defended. “They listen, I don’t

control

them.”
 
Ishida frowned. “

They’re arrancar

.”
 
Ichigo didn’t humor that with a response. He kept walking, thoughts turning inwards. It was going to be a long walk, and that was fine with him, it gave the Espada time to get where he wanted, and it gave him time to think.
 
Zangetsu was still upset, he could feel it.

“You’re keeping something from me, King.”

You used to keep shit from me all the time, get over it.

“Fuck you.”

I told you I’d tell you later.

“Why not right now?”

…

ph'orr'e ilyaa

ALONE

Chaugnar Faugnog REND THE DARK syha'h

naflilyaa nwagl RETURN IT TO US lloigyar kadishtu

...

He pushed the memory away. “You know why.”
 
Ishida asked, “What?”
 
“Not talking to you.” It was getting harder to keep his thoughts separate, he hadn’t intended to answer aloud. He changed the subject before Ishida could question him. “I don’t command you and I’m not going to pretend I do. Will you spar with the Espada? A couple of them, anyway.”
 
Ishida didn’t answer immediately. He asked, “Who are you asking as? A friend, or the King of Hueco Mundo?”
 
Ichigo thought about that, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hmmm, both. Its strategically smart, but at the same time, the Espada are restless, and I don’t want them getting use to fighting one person. Grimmjow is already falling into that rut. They need experience, and no offense, but you could use it too.”
 
Ishida didn’t say anything, and he looked back at the quincy. “You’re not curious?”
 
Ishida asked, “About what?”
 
Ichigo explained, “Fighting an Espada.” Ishida didn’t answer, so he looked back at him. The quincy looked thoughtful, and a touch distressed. “I wouldn’t let you get too serious. It would be a learning experience.”
 
Ishida said, “I don’t know if I want to reveal all of my weaknesses to potential enemies.”
 
Ichigo asked simply. “Am I an enemy?”
 
“No.”
 
Ichigo turned ahead again and said, “There’s your answer. As long as I’m alive, the Espada aren’t your enemy.”
 
They walked in silence for a moment before Ishida asked, “I can refuse?”
 
Ichigo didn’t take it personally that Ishida was assuming the worst of him. “Of course you can, you’re a guest. It was a request, not an order.”
 
“Fine. I’ll fight an Espada.”
 
Ichigo smiled, looking back. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled. Thanks, Ishida.”
 
Ishida narrowed his eyes, studying him. Ichigo didn’t like that aspect of Ishida, but only when it was directed at him. Ishida always saw through him, he couldn’t lie to his friends, no matter how hard he tried. He looked ahead, changing the subject. “You were walking Orihime home when Grimmjow got you?”
 
Ishida blushed. “Yes, of course I was! Like I’d let her walk home alone with all the weird shit that’s been going on.”
 
Ichigo’s lips turned up in a smile, glad Orihime had someone around to take care of her. She might swear up and down she was fine, but he knew she appreciated it, maybe even needed it, and he’d never been that person. “Well, when all that weird shit goes away, you still going to walk her home?”
 
Ishida blushed, pushing his glasses up. “If she wants me to.”
 
Ichigo teased, “What a gentleman.” Ishida didn’t look like he could tell if he was joking or not, and Ichigo didn’t mind, letting the conversation fall off. They got closer to the throne room and he warned. “Let me do the talking. I don’t want to break up a fight.”
 
He led him into the room, what was left of the ceiling stretching high above them, then opening up into Hueco Mundo. The walls were trying to repair themselves, but the traces of his reiatsu were likely hampering those efforts.
 
The Espada were scattered around the room, and he noted everyone was there except Starrk and Zommari. Ishida got a few sidelong looks, but no one said anything. He paced up to Harribel, trying and failing to read her expression. “Looking for me?”
 
She completely ignored Ishida, she didn’t even glance at him. “We need a way to keep track of you, it’s too difficult to simply wait for you to feel like showing up.”
 
So maybe she was a little annoyed. Ichigo couldn’t blame her for that, he would be too. He said, “I’ll have Szayel look into it. What did you want to talk about?”
 
Her eyes slid to Szayelaporro, then back to him. “The tear in the world hasn’t gone away, it’s remained open. On your orders, no one has attempted to get close to it, but Szayel’s sensors picked up the tres Espada’s reiatsu flickering out.”
 
She looked pointedly over to Grimmjow, who was sitting in one of the highest places in the room he could find. His eyes met Ichigo’s, but Ichigo let him be, letting the Espada have his space for the moment. “Given he returned, but won’t speak of it, I’m left to assume it has something to do with why we’re all here.”
 
“Yeah, I’ve been busy. It’s complicated, but I’ll explain most of it when all the Espada get here.”
 
She raised a brow. “Most of it?”
 
He answered, “Some of it is personal, irrelevant.” He didn’t want to tell the Espada he’d nearly killed Grimmjow, nor did he feel inclined to illuminate his weaknesses. It was bad enough Grimmjow knew, but it had been unavoidable.
 
She dipped her head in a nod, her eyes finally turning towards Ishida. “Who’s this?”
 
He gave her the same answer. “A guest, and a quincy.”
 
She didn’t question him further, she simply gave Ishida a once over, then ignored him again. Ishida seemed a bit insulted, but he held his tongue.
 
Ichigo caught sight of Zommari, Starrk not far behind him, looking more than a little put out. He stepped forward, not about to waste their time or his own. He raised his voice and drawled. “Now that you’re all here…” All eyes shifted to him, his hands in his pockets. He was at ease, he had been since he’d come to his senses, but he had yet to determine if that was a bad thing. “I’ll start with the bad news. Alteza, the fucker in the sky, isn’t going away. That’s fine, because Alteza really doesn’t give a shit about you, but I know what it does care about. That little rock that made you arrancar, there are two, and one is in Soul Society. I plan to invade Soul Society to take it back.”
 
There was a general consensus that this was good news, judging from their reactions. Starrk yawned and Szayel looked like he wanted to leave, but the promise of a fight seemed to be favorable across the board. Now all he had to do was adequately curb that enthusiasm. He said, “I’m waiting for intel, but as soon as I get it, I’ll brief you and we’ll go. Questions?”
 
Starrk lifted a hand. “What happens if we don't get the rock?”

lloigyar kadishtu

RETURN IT TO US

fhtagn phlegeth ah s'uhn li'hee lloigyar kadi-

THE ABYSS IS SPLITTING. REND THE DARK. RETURN IT-

Ichigo said, “Bad things. Very bad things.” They seemed to accept the lack of detail, all accept Szayel, but he expected that from him. He was glad this newest problem kept the madman frown showing even the slightest bit of interest in Ishida.
 
One of Harribel’s fraccion spoke up, he forgot her name. The loud one, it seemed. “Who’s the new guy?”
 
He should have known better than to expect any questions about any sort of battle plan. He wasn’t sure if Ishida wanted to give his name, so he didn’t volunteer it. “A guest. He’s been to Soul Society before, he’s a good strategist. That aside, I thought it would be a benefit to let you fight and observe an actual quincy.”
 
Yylfordt spoke up when no one else did. “When can we fight?”
 
“On his terms. If you want to fight, the same rules apply; You can’t kill or maim each other.” His tone didn’t leave wiggle room. If they tried, he’d reflect the damage back on them.
 
He looked around, and there were no more questions, so he dismissed them with a gesture. “Szayel, Aaroniero, Edrad, and Starrk will remain in Hueco Mundo; you’re dismissed. The rest of you, don’t wander off.”
 
He turned back to face Harribel, effectively dismissing the lot of them. He didn’t feel a need to ramble on about unnecessary things. Alteza was

his

problem. He told her. “It’s up to you if you want to go or stay. I don’t think Soul Society gives a damn about trying to take Las Noches, but it’s your call.”
 
She folded her arms, looking to her fraccion. “Szayel doesn’t have much combat practicality, neither does Aaroniero. Starrk will fight if it comes down to it, but there won’t be anyone left to pass down orders. I’ll stay.”
 
He asked, “Your fraccion?”
 
“If they wish to go, I will not stop them.”
 
He dipped his head in a nod, watching Szayel leave out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want to talk to him just then, he could afford a bit of procrastination.
 
Ichigo looked up at Grimmjow, jerking his head to the ground in a subtle gesture to come down.
 
The Espada stared at him impassively, then stood, stepping into sonido to appear before him. Grimmjow straightened, watching Ichigo thoughtfully. It was strange when the Espada was quiet, but given he was the only one that knew what was actually happening with the Hogyoku, Ichigo wanted him close by.
 
Yylfordt didn’t leave, he had the guts to step up and demand, “Oy, we can fight, right?”
 
Ishida stepped forward, pushing up his glasses. “White doesn’t speak for me. If you want to fight, ask me yourself.”
 
Yylfordt drew his sword, and from the grin on his face, he seemed more than happy to cut out the middleman, especially since he already had permission. “So let’s fight, bro.”
 
Ichigo jerked a thumb at the desert. “Take it outside, kids.”
 
Ishida lifted his hand and a bow of blue light materialized. “Ginrei Kojaku.” He disappeared with hirenkyaku, reappearing outside the walls of Las Noches.
 
Harribel’s fraccion relocated to watch, the loud one and...Mika? Hell if he could remember, offering shouted words of “encouragement.”
 
Ishida dodged Yylfordt with ease, taunting the arrancar for being slow. To the Espada’s credit, he didn't get blinded with rage as easily as Grimmjow did, but he was a little too cocky for his own good.
 
Ichigo had a feeling Ishida would win, based on his knowledge of his friend and Yylfordt’s lack of caution. He leaned against some rubble to watch, arms crossed. If they got out of hand, he'd stop it, but at least for the moment, both were merely testing the waters.
 
Grimmjow asked, “What's wrong with you?”
 
They were standing alone, so clearly the question was broader than his tone implied. Ichigo glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
 
“You're acting different.”

fm'latgh gof'nn, cR'lyeh h'phlegeth Dagon

nafhtagn shagg f'zhro ulnsnaagl hrii shugg gof'nn

Was it so noticeable?

“Yeah, King, it's weird.”

Chaugnar Faugn li'hee yaor ngebunma geb

k'yarnak llll gotha

He knew Zangetsu heard the whispers, those were still present, rising and falling like a howling wind. It was distracting, and it made him uncomfortable. Zangetsu hadn’t heard what it said to him, and he’d kept it from his inner hollow out of denial and uncertainty.
 
Ichigo couldn’t forget the pain that razed his soul, and neither could Zangetsu. He didn’t know why it didn’t hurt anymore, but he wasn’t sure it was a positive thing that his soul wasn’t burning at the mere touch of Alteza. Shinji had once remarked over how distant pain felt when he was hollowfied, how strange it felt. Ichigo felt numb, but he wasn’t certain if that was because there was no pain, or he simply wasn’t consciously aware of it anymore.
 
Ishida fired a volley of hundreds of arrows, catching Yylfordt off guard by the sheer number. He wasn't fast enough to dodge, so he took them all head on. Ishida’s arrows didn’t hit especially hard, but when there were hundreds, it stacked up. They cut through Yylfordt’s hierro, leaving him a bloody mess. Ouch.
 
Since he made no effort to elaborate, Grimmjow demanded. “Why?”
 
Ichigo dropped his voice, just in case someone had sharp ears. “It’s still talking, it hasn’t shut up.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened. “Alteza.”

“King, what aren’t you telling me?

” Zangetsu sounded afraid, and it was hard to ignore.
 
He let his grip on the memory loosen, sharing it with Zangetsu.

bugnyth

YOU

ph'r'luh

ARE

Nakadishtu Dagon

THE HEART

“That means-”

This is permanent, Zangetsu.

Zangetsu’s distress was tangible, it nearly stole his breath away. The hollow was angry at his own helplessness, and Ichigo might have been right there with him, but what he felt was resignation. He didn’t know what would happen once the Hogyoku was gone, but the one in his soul wasn’t going anywhere.

He looked to Grimmjow. “It’s talking to me. It doesn’t always listen, but I know what it wants.” He glanced at the sky, knowing there was something there. “I don’t think it’s evil, I don’t think it’s anything, it just

is

.”
 
Yylfordt had released his sword, healing most of the damage he’d taken. He charge at Ishida like a bull, but he was still too slow.
 
Grimmjow asked, “Should you really be waltzing straight into Soul Society?”
 
“What other choice is there? You’re not as pathetic as I tell you you are, but we can’t afford to lose any Espada. I’m faster, stealthier. I can get in and out and get this over with.”
 
His phone rang, and he picked up. “Give me a second.” He pulled the phone away and looked to his fraccion. “Watch them. If they get too rowdy, separate them.”
 
Grimmjow scowled. “I ain’t a babysitter!”
 
Ichigo noted that, then stepped into sonido. He knew that while Grimmjow complained, he would still do it.
 
He stopped a ways out onto the dome of Las Noches, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hey, Kisuke.”
 
The shopkeeper’s tone was filled with his characteristic cheer, no doubt genuine given he was about to explain a way for him to step on Soul Society’s toes. “I’ve sent some blueprints to your phone, but I have a lot to tell you. I hope you have a good memory, Kurosaki-san. It seems Kurotsuchi made quite a few modifications to security.”

nog llll fhtagn

phlegeth ah s'uhn li'hee

“I’m listening.”

--- xxx ---
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion:
Dondochakka Birstanne - Pesche Guatiche - Bawabawa

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“If we could hear the squirrel's heartbeat, the sound of the grass growing, we should die of that roar.” ― George Eliot

--- xxx ---
 
About an hour later and Ichigo had what he needed from Kisuke; a plan, and a mountain of stress. He returned to the throne room to find Yylfordt bloody and beaten, and Ishida with nothing but a singed shirt and a self assured smirk on his face. Grimmjow was talking Yylfordt off the edge, since he seemed hell bent on continuing the fight. His resurreccion had fallen apart, he wasn’t in any shape to keep going.
 
Harribel’s fraccion seemed both mocking and thoughtful, so it seemed this wasn’t a wasted venture.
 
Grimmjow growled, purposefully standing between the pair. “You got beat, calm down.”
 
Ichigo stepped up beside Grimmjow at a speed that startled the arrancar. He chastised Yylfordt. “Go drag your ass to the med bay, unless you want to get left behind?”
 
Yylfordt seemed more distraught about that than losing. He wiped blood from the right eye, his hair matted with blood. He spat at Ishida. “I’m not done with you, quincy!”
 
Ishida only looked amused, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure our next fight will be just as riveting.”
 
Ichigo warned, “You have thirty minutes, then I’m briefing everyone.” Yylfordt was suddenly very eager to leave, he was a bit impressed the Espada managed sonido.
 
Ichigo handed Ishida his phone, the blueprints still pulled up on screen. It wasn’t the most ideal way to look at them, but they weren't that detailed anyways; Soul Society wasn’t much into transcribing their top secret locations down in easy to steal diagrams. Kisuke was good, but he couldn’t steal what didn’t exist.
 
He could ask to borrow Szayel’s equipment, but he didn't want to talk to him. Talking to Szayel always made him angry, and he didn't want to invade Seireitei angry, people could die.
 
Ishida thumbed through them, brows furrowed. “This isn’t much to go on.”
 
Ichigo hummed in agreement. “I’m aware, but it's better than nothing. At least now we know where the complex is…                 and where the doors are.”
 
Ishida asked, “I doubt it’ll be conveniently stored and labeled with signs all pointing to its location. How are you going to find it once you're inside?”
 
Ichigo assured him. “I'll hear it.” Now that he knew what he was feeling, finding the Hogyoku wouldn't be difficult. He remembered Aizen saying once that it didn't matter if the Hogyoku was in his hand or not, and now he understood what he meant.
 
His answer seemed to throw Ishida off, the Quincy studying him carefully. He didn't like being studied, it felt intrusive. Either Ishida noticed his disapproval, or he found what he was looking for, because he looked back at the phone and muttered, “As long as you're confident.”
 
Grimmjow grit his teeth in annoyance. “Don’t talk around me like I’m not here.”
 
“Relax, Grimmjow, it doesn’t involve you.” The Espada opened his mouth to argue, but Ichigo wasn’t done. “You’re going to be part of the distraction.”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “Unless you'd rather run around some hallways looking for a rock and fighting weaklings?” Grimmjow didn't answer. “Yeah, I thought so. Don't say I don't do anything for you.”
 
Ichigo let Ishida study the blueprints in peace, looking over at Harribel’s fraccion. They were doing their best to subtly eavesdrop now that their entertainment had left. He asked, “Are you going?”
 
The brunette folded her arms, a nearly identical motion to what he'd seen Harribel do. “Harribel is staying to defend Hueco Mundo?”
 
Ichigo dipped his head a shallow nod. “She is. Either all three of you go, or all of you stay. What’ll it be?”
 
They shared a look, determined and uneasy. The brunette spoke for all of them. “We’ll stay.”
 
Ichigo was always impressed, you couldn't buy loyalty like that. He nodded in acknowledgement. “Stay sharp. You can go.”
 
He turned to the room, seeking out Ulquiorra.
 
He flashed before him, the Espada barely reacting to the sudden attention. He'd been silently watching from the shadows, seemingly content to remain out of the way. Ichigo said, “I have a specific task for you.” Ulquiorra said nothing, so he kept talking. “You can share your memories, can't you?
 
“I can.”
 
“While I retrieve the Hogyoku and the rest of the arrancar distract Soul Society, I want you to go to the Rukongai.”
 
Ulquiorra asked, “What am I looking for?”
 
“Search the shadows. Look for something similar to a garganta; Something hidden within the reishi, just beyond reach. Should anyone attempt to fight, engage only to escape.”
 
The arrancar’s eyes narrowed. “Something beyond reach?”
 
Ichigo could still remember how unprepared Soul Society had been. He wasn’t exactly sure what to call it, but he knew what it was. “A hidden dimension, a disturbance in reishi. I'm not sure if it's even something you’ll be able to sense, but it’s our best chance to find them.”
 
“Who?”
 
“The Quincy.”
 
He left Ulquiorra with his own set of orders, then waited for Yylfordt to return. He sat and tried to relax. He tried to forget that he was about to invade Soul Society, that he was about to fight against people he wanted to protect. Life wasn’t always fair, this was a necessary evil.

--- xxx ---

A swath of darkness cut the sky and split over the Seireitei, just within the dome. Revealed within was Ichigo, his Espada close behind him. Grimmjow was to his immediate right, and Ishida to his immediate left. The shinigami couldn’t stop a garganta, not when they didn’t even understand it. Their only deterrent had been the hope no hollow was organized or suicidal enough to travel there.
 
Ichigo stepped from the garganta out into Soul Society, moonlight glinting over golden rooftops. The instant the stepped foot outside the garganta, Ichigo let out a slow breath, his reiatsu rolling out over Seireitei like a fog. He dropped his power to a level it could be felt, pressuring every soul in the Seireitei. He was announcing his presence in a clear sign of aggression, and in a way he knew would rally all of the Gotei 13 to handle the threat.
 
The first time he’d come here, he’d had a goal, his friends to help him, and the knowledge he was right. This time he was here not merely as a ryoka, but a king. He was fueled by need, desperation, and a whisper of fear. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he failed, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.
 
He didn't want things to be this way, but he didn't have a choice. Simply asking Soul Society to hand over the Hogyoku as things stood now was never going to work, not when he was seen as their number one threat. His order was calm, but assertive. “Go.”
 
The Espada scattered, their orders clear. Ishida paired with Yylfordt for support since he understood the arrancar’s fighting style better than the rest, and Grimmjow went off with Edrad, and Shawlong. Ulquiorra went off on his own, his eyes set on the Rukongai. If Ulquiorra was caught, Ichigo had no doubt the Espada would be able to fight his way out to escape, and he was by far one of the fastest. Honestly, he didn’t think Grimmjow was subtle enough to do it.

Ichigo turned away, his sights set on the Onmitsukidō. His reiatsu vanished from Soul Society, once again out of notice of the shinigami. He didn’t even think Yamamoto could sense him, given the soutaichou’s reaction to him when they met, so he knew he was as stealthy as a visored in Soul Society could be.
 
He raced off towards the compound, crossing the entirety of Seireitei in a single step. He stepped into the courtyard, surrounded on all sides by towering walls and columns. The area was devoid of life, and what little reiatsu he could sense was just trace reiatsu. If the Onmitsukidō were known for anything, it was their stealth. He flashed ahead to a towering set of double doors, recalling Kisuke’s blueprints.
 
He pushed the door and it simply swung open, surprised there wasn’t security. Then again, when he dropped the heavy cloak of his reiatsu over the city, the special forces probably mobilized. He stepped inside, taking a moment to cast out his senses, scanning for the Hogyoku.
 
He hadn’t even taken one step before he felt a blade rest against his lower spine. He cocked his head. “Soifon.” He still couldn’t sense her reiatsu, but there was no one else it could be.
 
Her voice was low and soft. “I warned against letting you run free, ryoka.”
 
He looked back at her as she sprang back, putting distance between them. He realized she hadn’t been warning him, she’d tried to sever his spine. That explained why she had bothered to speak at all, she was buying time to try to figure out how to kill him.
 
He said, “I don’t have time to waste here.”
 
He turned to face away, hearing her release her shikai. “Nigeki Kessatsu, Suzumebachi.” He ignored her, she wasn’t a threat.
 
He started walking, and Soifon attacked. Her Zanpakuto did as little good as her sealed Zanpakuto. Her shikai had no hope of harming him. Not only was his hierro too strong for her to strike through, but his reiatsu devastated her own. He had to admire her tenacity though, she was never one to give up.
 
Once again, he found he was comparing himself to Aizen.
 
He kept walking, waiting to feel that whisper of madness in his mind. Soifon followed, clearly agitated. He asked, “How did you know I was here?”
 
She explained, “You don’t have reiatsu I can sense, but you’re far from stealthy.”
 
In such a small space, her bankai was useless without causing untold damage to the relics they were suppose to be protecting, and she’d just determined her shikai was useless. She started to gather Kidou around herself, bright white and crackling with energy. He’s seen this before on Yoruichi, and this was far less impressive. He paused and looked at her, naming the technique. “Shunkō.”
 
Her brows fell, finding it concerning he could name a technique she’d knew he shouldn’t know. She put herself in his path and asked, “How do you know?”. She slipped into a shunpo technique, her afterimages encircled around him. It was still too slow, it wasn’t enough.
 
He almost felt bad for her. He kept walking and said, “I’m from the future, remember?”
 
She lunged to attack him, hoping her clones would distract him. He caught her fist in his hand, and her face scrunched in frustration. She jerked her wrist, found she was stuck, then tried to kick him. He caught her foot, then dropped her, her Shunkō passing over him harmlessly. “Turn yourself over!

Surrender

.”
 
He asked, “Why? I’m winning.”
 
“You’re a threat, as we speak your arrancar are wreaking havoc in Seireitei. Is this not a declaration of war?”
 
He could indeed sense his Espada engaged in combat, and none seemed to be overexerting themselves yet. He came to a fork in the hallways, closing his eyes and extending his senses. Now that Soifon had cloaked herself in Kidou, she was far from stealthy, he knew exactly where she was.
 
She tried to kick him in the head again, and that ended just as badly. He tossed her away and she landed on her feet. He said, “It can’t be helped.”
 
“Those are only the words of a traitor.”
 
He knew Soifon had alerted at least someone to his location, he really didn’t have time to waste here, but if he used sonido, he might miss the Hogyoku. The hallways widened., but he still didn’t sense the Hogyoku. These buildings were so big, he wasn’t sure how long this would take. “I’m not here to harm Soul Society, but think what you like.”
 
“You rely on the power of hollows and bring your arrancar here to invade, and you aren’t here to harm Soul Society? Are you insane?” She tried to attack him again, and he didn’t bother blocking. He fist connected with his kidney’s but he felt little to nothing. If anything, it was just a nuisance.
 
She hopped back again and he said, “I’m not crazy.” The whispers in his head might say otherwise, but he didn’t feel crazy.

“I’d know if you were crazy, I keep tellin’ ya.”

Do you sense it?

“It’s close, but I’m not sure where.”

His tone was heavy with sarcasm.

Great

. To Soifon he said, “The Espada won’t kill. If I don’t let them out every once in awhile, they’ll kill each other.”
 
“You think this is a joke?”
 
He looked at her steadily. “No.”
 
She asked, “What do you want?”
 
“Is it not obvious?”
 
She didn’t answer, so he assumed she knew, she was simply trying to confirm. He paused, a whisper sliding through his subconscious. He turned and followed a hallway to the right. He said, “I know you’re going to relay all of this to Yamamoto. I’m trying to help you, and I’m doing my best not to fight you; does that count for nothing?”
 
She hissed, “This is helping? You’re mad.”
 
The whispers grew louder, the guttural language piling on top of itself in a heap of madness. He didn’t want to get closer, it aggravated the whispers that were already becoming a constant in his head. He paused in front of a door and warned, “Soifon, go.”
 
“I’m not leaving a traitor alone to do as he pleases, who do you think I am?!”
 
He glanced at her. “I know exactly who you are, and it’s out of respect for your former master that I’m warning you now.

Go

.” She didn’t move, and he narrowed his eyes in annoyance.
 
He looked away, drawing the trench knife, and muttered, “Stubborn.”
 
He slashed the door, cutting it apart diagonally. Pieces of it collapsed inwards, and he stepped in over the debris. The room was empty beyond a pillar in the center of the room. The Hogyoku was sitting atop it, and he had no doubt there was Kidou in place to try to trap him or kill him.
 
He took a step forward and Kidou shot from the corners of the room. He struck it with his sword too quickly for Soifon to follow, Kidou exploding in a shower of sparks. He sheathed the sword, reaching out for the Hogyoku.

shugg fhtagnoth

wgah'nyar

sgn'wahl 'ai chtenff

It was much louder, and he realized it wasn’t just whispers. He hesitated before he touched it, his fingers hovering just over the surface. His instincts screamed at him to leave it alone.

Danger

. That’s what this was.
 
He must have not moved for some time, because Soifon asked, “What are you waiting for?”
 
He had no doubt she’d determined it would be better to observe and report rather than run away.
 
He said, “I told you, I’m here because I

have

to be.”

“King, just grab it. You can feel their reiatsu, right?”

He shifted his attention, and his Espada were indeed struggling. They were still too weak for this. Grimmjow was doing well, but once the other captains returned through the Senkaimon, they would be done.
 
He swore, forcing him to just take it, despite his inner protests. He grasped the Hogyoku, and the whispers became far too loud.

SYHA’H PH’S’UHN

THRODOTH R’LEYEH VULGTLAGLN

GRAH’N

“King!”

He growled, “Shut up, I don’t need you shouting too.” He squeezed the Hogyoku, wanting nothing more than to put it down, so he held it tighter to fight off that urge.
 
He turned away, finding Soifon in the doorway, watching him cautiously. He growled, “Move.”
 
“It’s my duty to stop you.” She raised her weapon again, and Ichigo fought the urge to laugh. Having Alteza shouting in his head was more than a little distracting, and he had no doubt it was a bad sign.
 
He disappeared from her sight, reappearing behind her. He struck her in the back of the neck and she crumpled in a heap.
 
He flashed from the compound with sonido, no longer having a reason to stay, and went straight to his Espada. He looked down at the Hogyoku in his hand, and wished that he hadn’t. Space rippled around his hand in a way that reminded him of a Gran Rey Cero. He looked even farther back and supposed the only real blessing was that he wasn’t leaving a trail of distorted space in his wake.
 
In the moment before he announced himself, he got a decent handle on the situation. Ishida was firing arrows that Renji was blocking with Hihio Zabimaru, allowing a far less skilled Yylfordt to pressure Renji from all sides. From the blood on Yylfordt’s horn, he must have at least grazed the fukutaichou.
 
Shawlong and Edrad were just barely holding their own against Komamura. A pre resurreccion Grimmjow was locked in a battle with Byakuya, both bloody, but Grimmjow had newfound experience fighting someone even faster than the Kuchiki. Luckily for all of them, Kenpachi hadn't made it there yet.
 
He stopped above them, and his reiatsu fell like a hammer, signalling for Ulquiorra to wrap it up and leave. Everyone present looked in his direction, the Espada in something like relief, and the shinigami in dread.
 
He ordered, “Fall back.” The Espada all distanced themselves from their opponents, returning to his side. Ishida only seemed a bit winded, but otherwise fine. It didn't seem he hadn’t even needed to use Seele Schneider. Only Grimmjow’s old fraccion had released their swords, Grimmjow and Ishida were the only two with power in reserve.
 
Renji shouted up at him. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Ichigo ignored him with a heavy heart.
 
Alteza’s voice still rang in his head, he wanted it gone, but given the way space was distorting around the Hogyoku, he wouldn't put his allies at risk by standing too close. “Return to Hueco Mundo.”
 
Ichigo felt the garganta open behind him, and he took a step away from it. Grimmjow questioned, “What're you doing?

Let's go

.”
 
He didn’t turn around to look, he merely held up the Hogyoku in his hand to show him the reason. The space around most of his left arm rippled and shuddered. He ordered. “Go.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t argue this time, but Ishida warned, “You had better be right behind us.”
 
Ichigo felt the garganta close at the same time that he felt an approaching reiatsu he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to face. None of the captains had made any move to try to attack or capture him, and he wondered if they’d been ordered not to. If that was the case, it was a fairly recent order.
 
Yamamoto appeared before him, the bloodlust rolling off of him making Ichigo reach for his Zanpakuto. He hadn’t come here with the intention to actually fight, but if he wasn’t given a choice...
 
Yamamoto said, “You just missed your last chance of escape, infant.” He shrugged out of his sleeves, leaving himself barechested. Ichigo clenched his jaw, narrowing his focus to Yamamoto.
 
The soutaichou ordered, “Fall back, all of you. You’re in the way.” The taichos and fukutaichos didn’t need to be told twice. They jumped back in a flurry of shunpo, well aware that Yamamoto wouldn’t be able to fight without killing them by accident.

-SYHA’H PH’S’UHN

THRODOTH-

“King, we don’t have time to screw around with Yamamoto.”

Ichigo pulled with his gut, tearing open a garganta. He hissed, “

I know.

”

R’LEYEH VULGTLAGLN

GRAH’N-

His head was too crowded, it was hard to focus, and against someone like Yamamoto, that could potentially prove fatal. He backed up toward the garganta he’d opened, only to find Yamamoto had moved, and at a speed he almost missed. His eyes widened, whirling and drawing his sword. He blocked a punch that sent him sliding back on his heels, a punch packing enough reiatsu and sheer strength it would have killed any captain on impact.
 
Yamamoto moved to strike again, at a speed that was nearly equal to his own speed in shikai. He was pushing him away from the garganta, cutting off his escape. Fighting with only one hand just wasn’t feasible against someone like Yamamoto. He blocked each hit, but faltered when agony lanced up his arm around the Hogyoku.
 
Ichigo looked down, eyes widening in horror at the hands borne from darkness that he saw creeping from the distortion in space around his hand and arm. Fingers curled around his arm and wrist, more of them crawling from the gaps in reality.
 
He took a hit without even attempting to block, getting thrown back into a building below, and the next four behind it. He grit his teeth in pain. That hurt,

a lot,

but it was nothing like the pain of Alteza touching his skin. The words echoing in his soul grew even louder as he staggered to his feet. He coughed up blood, wondering just how much damage that hit had caused, because it was wildly overshadowed by Alteza.
 
He looked up to the garganta, then his eyes shifted to Yamamoto standing before it. His goal was so close, he wouldn’t let one shinigami stand in his way.

So close

.
 
He sprang back into the sky, solidifying the reishi beneath his feet. The overlap of words in his mind were too jumbled and painful to understand. He shook his head like that might clear it, doubled over in pain. He raised his sword, seeing Yamamoto speak, but he couldn’t make out the words. The southaicho’s staff unraveled, wood splintering away to reveal his Zanpakuto. Seemed he was finally getting serious.
 
Yamamoto said something else, but it was lost in the roar in his mind. He felt the vibration of his own voice, but he couldn’t even hear himself speak. “Sorry jii-san, I can’t hear you.” Everything felt fuzzy, muffled. His left arm trembled, the freezing chill of dark hands snaking higher up his arm.
 
He sucked in a panicked breath, and let it out slowly, energy gathering along Zangetsu’s edge. He grit his teeth and swung his sword. “Getsuga Tensho.” Dark reiatsu lanced out from the edge of his sword, the wave of power hitting Yamamoto point blank. Ichigo followed in the wake of his attack, moving as quickly as he was able to try to reach the garganta.
 
He was stopped short by a hand on his upper arm. The reishi from his attack hadn’t even cleared, he couldn’t make out Yamamoto through the twisting reiatsu from his Getsuga, but he could see the shinigami’s hand tight around his upper arm, just above where Alteza’s hands were reaching. Ichigo twisted, swinging Zangetsu around on instinct alone, but found it stopped short by Yamamoto’s own Zanpakuto. Shit.
 
He started to charge a cero, desperate to get back to Hueco Mundo. Yamamoto was no fool, he shoved Ichigo’s Zanpakuto away and raised the hand that held his Zanpakuto, gathering energy around his fist for a Kidou blast.
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened, firing his cero directly against his Kidou before he could get hit point blank. The resulting explosion of energy tore into them both, but he assumed Yamamoto was confident he would be the one still standing if he had the balls to set off a bomb in his face.
 
The energy swept out in all directions, obliterating the buildings directly below, reiatsu and reishi flooding the streets and sky of Seireitei like a shattered dam.
 
Ichigo was knocked out of Yamamoto’s grip by the resulting backlash, falling to a knee, breathing ragged, his entire front laced with blood. “

Fuck

.” He leaned on instant regeneration, the deep cuts healing over, but the dark hands gripping his arm had reached his shoulder. The stretching, reaching fingers burned through his Kosode like acid, and he didn’t want to think what would happen if they reached his neck.

-SHUGG FHTAGNOTH

WGAH’NYAR-

Ichigo screamed, “SHUT UP!” It was bad enough it was burning his soul, but the shouting was unbearable, he couldn’t think.
 
The reishi swirled away, revealing Yamamoto was indeed in much better shape than he was. He looked a little singed and put out, but otherwise fine. Ichigo straightened, splitting his power and summoning Zangetsu. He just needed to be able to run, and Alteza was an impatient sonuvabitch.
 
His inner hollow appeared before him, sword already drawn defensively. He wasn’t sure if his sword said anything to him or Yamamoto, Ichigo couldn’t hear much of anything over Alteza’s demands. Zangetsu lunged for Yamamoto, hitting him with all the power and speed he could spare.
 
Yamamoto raised his Zanpakuto to block, his reiatsu raging around him like fire. Zangetsu hammered at Yamamoto with a fury he hadn’t seen in a long time. Yamamoto’s reiatsu scorched everything around him, including Zangetsu, but his inner spirit didn’t seem to give a damn.
 
Ichigo took advantage and ran, using all the speed he had available to him. Fire started to creep in around the sides of his vision from all directions. He recognized what Yamamoto had done, even if he didn’t hear the command.

Jōkaku Enjō

.
 
He slipped through the closing wall of fire, but the flames caught his leg. Sensing his quarry escaped his fiery cage, Yamamoto didn’t bother holding the sphere of flames intact. They swirled out of existence the moment he passed through his net.
 
He felt pain lance through his soul, feeling the damage Zangetsu took on his behalf just as he stepped foot inside the garganta. He spun, seeing Zangetsu cut in half by Yamamoto’s blade. He shut the garganta just as Yamamoto blurred to chase him, feeling Zangetsu return to the depths of his soul.
 
Ichigo didn’t stop to consider how close he’d been to being struck down, he ran.
 
The clawing fingers had reached his lower neck, the agony spreading far enough it was a struggle to use sonido at all. He refused to drop the Hogyoku, using all the speed that was available to him. He shot from the garganta out into the desert, the cacophony in his soul a painful contrast to the silence he knew he should feel.
 
He was at the place Alteza had brought him, and the voice in his head pitched louder.
 
He stopped over the gaping hole in the ground, the abyss that stretched for miles beneath him, and unclenched his fingers. The Hogyoku tumbled from his hand into the dark.
 
The hands dissipated like fog, the pain disappearing just as suddenly as it had appeared. The shouting was gone, leaving his ears ringing in its absence.

“King, can ya hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“Are ya okay?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“Your head’s all fucked up.”

That didn’t sound good at all. If Zangetsu was having trouble getting a read on him and he was a part of him, he didn’t even want to know what that meant.
 
“I think-.”
 
He spoke too soon, darkness erupted from the abyss below, engulfing him in an ocean of dark. It clung to him like tar. It twisted around him like a maelstrom, blocking out his sight and holding him in place. The agony he’d felt from that possession was back tenfold, but now he could see what had razed his soul the first time. He screamed, the darkness flooding his lungs like water, scorching his veins and tearing him apart.

MINE

YOU ARE MINE

YOU ARE

THE

HEART

THE BLOOD

FIXES

YOU

BRING IT TO ME

CAST IT OUT

...

Ichigo gasped, suddenly aware. He rolled to his side and threw up that same sticky darkness, darkness that sank into the sand, disappearing like reiatsu. He coughed, gasping, and decided laying down and breathing was a good decision. He reached out into his soul for Zangetsu. He felt Zangetsu’s power, but his hollow was silent,

tired

.
 
The whispers were still present, but they were far softer. At the same time, they felt more permanent, real. He just laid there and breathed, the question echoing in his soul.

What the fuck just happened?

He lifted his hand above his face, noting the claws and fur. He was still hollowfied. The minutes ticked on in relative silence before Zangetsu answered,

“I don’t know, but something’s different. It did something.”

Ichigo dropped his hand to his face, closing his eyes. He did feel different, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Mine...He muttered, “I don’t belong to you.”
 
Ichigo struggled to sit up, taking in his surroundings. He was on the sand by the pit, uncertain how long he’d been there. “It said it fixed me…”
 
It’s true, he was uninjured, but that could have been from his own regeneration. He had a feeling Alteza wasn’t talking about that. He asked, “Do you think this is why it compelled me here the first time?”
 
Ossan spoke up, and there was an edge of fatigue in his normally steady voice.

“Alteza’s mere touch has scorched your soul in the past, but do you feel it? Alteza is still within you, yet your soul does not suffer for it. You are different.

”
 
Ichigo shuddered, feeling violated in a way he couldn’t describe. Ossan was deeper in his soul than Zangetsu, he could feel the subtleties below the surface, and he knew his inner spirit was right. Alteza was there. In his bones and his blood, not merely as a shadow, as the Hogyoku. No, it was still

inside him

.
 
He felt the need to throw up, raising a shaking hand to his head. He whispered, “Get out.”

YOU ARE THE HOST

YOU ARE MINE

His voice was a little louder, hands shaking. “Get out.”

YOU ARE THE HOST

“GET OUT!”

“Ichigo! Do not panic over things you cannot change.”

THE BLOOD FIXED YOU

BRING IT TO ME

Ichigo struggled not to panic, but it was difficult once he’d realized this fucker was wearing him like a glove. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t hold him. He fell to his knees, trying to get a grip. Calm down. Calm down.
 
He was still breathing too quickly, but he managed to ask a question. “If I bring you the rock, will you get out?”

THERE MUST BE A HOST

“Find someone else.”

THE HOST CANNOT DIE

THERE MUST BE A HOST

He had the sharp sense that Alteza was struggling to get him to comprehend what it was saying. That might explain the simple answers, maybe it was a hidden blessing that he could understand it at all.
 
He asked, “What do you want?”

BALANCE

He muttered, “What the fuck does that mean?”

BALANCE

RETURN IT

Ichigo didn’t know what it was talking about. The Hogyoku? That made sense, but It spoke in what felt like riddles and metaphors, he just wanted a straight answer. He asked, “How?”

BLOOD FLOWS THROUGH THE HEART

YOU ARE THE HEART

“What does that mean?”

YOU ARE THE HEART

He wasn’t getting anywhere like this, and he was exhausted. “If I sleep, are you gonna possess me?”

THE HOST IS COMPLETE

“That a yes or no?”

THE HOST IS COMPLETE

Ichigo made an aggravated sound, flopping back on the sand. Ossan spoke in his mind.

“Rest, Ichigo. I do not believe Alteza will do anything.”

“How can you know that?”

“You woke up in the same place you lost consciousness. It is within you as we speak, but it does nothing.”

That seemed like sound reasoning to him, and he was too tired to argue about it. He didn’t think he could sleep, but he was too exhausted to stand. Whatever Alteza had done, he was spent. He’d only woken up to clear his lungs of whatever that shit was. Was that the blood? He didn’t know.
 
He didn’t think he would be able to sleep, but he couldn’t deny that he was startled awake by foreign, yet familiar reiatsu. He turned his head to the side, eyes widening when they met soft olive eyes. “Nel?”
 
She shrieked, skittering back into Dondochakka’s legs. “You’re alive!”
 
He sat up, feeling much stronger than before.

How long was I asleep?

“Hours. Figured ya needed it.”

He asked Nel, who was still cowering between Dondochakka and Pesche. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”
 
Dondoachakka shouted, “You don’t have any reiatsu, don’tcha know!?”
 
Ichigo cocked his head, playing along. “Huh, That’s weird.” He got up, looking himself over with more scrutiny. He was missing a shoe, his clothes were singed, but his chest was devoid of any blood from Yamamoto’s attack. He hadn’t noticed earlier. He felt pretty good, minus that itching feeling of violation in his soul. He wanted Alteza out, but it seemed it was there to stay.
 
Pesche said, “There was this huuuuge pillar of darkness, so we came to check it out. Was it you?”
 
Ichigo played dumb, asking, “What did it look like?”
 
Nel gestured wildly. “Ish was huge! Ish didn’t feel like reiatsu at all, and there wa’ nothing else around, so we thought we’d go see wha’ caused it. Then we found you, and we thought ya’ were dead!” She gasped. “Are ya’ a zombie?”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “I don’t look

that

bad, do I?”
 
Nel got closer, studying him. “It took us three days ta get here. Are ya sure yer not dead?”
 
His eyes widened at the gap in time. “T-three days?” He looked to the other two hollows for confirmation.
 
Dondochakka pointed up at the moon. “Even riding Bawabawa, it took us three days.”
 
Ichigo noted the moon was indeed waxing, and far narrower than he remembered it being. Ichigo jumped to his feet and swore, staggering a little. He felt better, but his limbs felt heavy with misuse.
 
Nel asked, “Are you...an arrancar?”
 
He looked back at her, deciding it had already been three days, what was a few lost minutes? He answered, “No. I’m a visored.”
 
Pesche folded his arms. “Never heard of it. You made that up.”
 
Ichigo scowled. “See any mask fragments?”
 
Pesche lunged for him, pulling at his kosode, or what was left of it. “Maybe you’re hiding them?!”
 
Ichigo grabbed the arrancar, holding him at arm’s length. “Hey! Don’t touch me!” He noticed Dondochakka edging around behind him, and he snapped, “Don’t even think about it!”
 
Pesche squirmed and Ichigo dropped him. The arrancar landed on his feet, striking a defensive pose. He said, “Look, I’m a visored, and I’m going back to Hueco Mundo. You should come with me.”
 
Nel’s eyes widened. “But the arrancar-”
 
“Won’t bother you,” he finished.
 
Nel protested. “But they hate us!”
 
“I’m king. If they have a problem with it, they’ll answer to me.” He looked in the direction of Las Noches, not looking forward to untangling whatever mess had sprung up in his absence, and he had no doubt there was one, he was just that lucky.
 
He looked at the three when they hadn’t answered; they seemed skeptical.
 
Pesche said, “You don’t have any reiatsu, you’re lying!”
 
Ichigo gave him a flat look and sighed. “Just cause you can’t feel it doesn’t mean I don’t have any.” He moved too quickly for them to follow, picking Nel up by the back of her cloak. She squeaked, but he was just lifting her up so they could talk eye to eye. “Come with me to Las Noches, it’s more interesting than the desert, right? Surely eternal tag gets boring?”
 
She asked conspiratorially. “What about...Aizen?”
 
His tone was light. “I killed him.”
 
Her eyes widened. “

No way

...what were you doing sleeping all the way out here?”
 
He said, “It’s a long story. Will you come back with me?” He didn’t like the idea of leaving Nel alone in the desert, especially with all the changes in the timeline.
 
She fidgeted, seemingly uncaring that he had her a few feet off the ground. “Uhhhh, maybe...you seem nice...but not too nice.”
 
That settled that. He dropped Nel on his back, and she clung to him like a monkey. He looked at Pesche and Dondochakka. “Come on, we’re going back to Las Noches.”

Pesche started to protest, but he grabbed both by the collar, and took off with sonido. Nel screamed, but it was a happy sound, he could tell. At least she was enjoying herself, he was moving at a speed the three could still breath at. That meant for the entirety of his run, he got to listen to squeals of joy. There were some tears mixed in, but he knew Nel was weird, those were happy tears.
 
He still felt sick inside, he could

feel

Alteza, but he couldn’t deny he felt a sliver of hope. He’d managed to sleep without trying to kill anyone, and he hadn’t woken up somewhere else. He found Nel, sort of, and he wasn’t dead. Surely things couldn’t get any worse?

“Don’t get yer hopes up, King.”

--- xxx ---

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Dondochakka Birstanne - Pesche Guatiche - Bawabawa

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Sometimes, even the devil on my shoulder asks, “What the fuck are you doing?”” ― Unknown

--- xxx ---
 
Las Noches came into sight after what felt like an hour, but he only slowed down once he was within the walls. He ran the stiffness from his limbs, but that buzz inside of him hadn’t faded. If anything, he only grew to be more aware of it. Zangetsu didn’t like it, and he was more than vocal about it. Vocal enough to grate his nerves.

At least I can sleep now, silver lining.

“This thing is intruding on your soul and you want me to

shut up

?!”

Can I do anything about it right now? No. So hush

.
 Even in the past, when he'd wanted to push his inner hollow away, he hadn't ever felt like an intruder. He was the part of himself he wanted to deny, but Zangetsu was still a part of his soul. The Hogyoku had been inherently separate from him, but now it was sinking too deep to be removed. By the time he realized it was there, it was already too late.  
Removing Alteza sounded about as practical as tearing out his own skeleton. The implications of this weren’t lost on him.
 
He could feel Grimmjow’s reiatsu a few miles away, and he zeroed in on him first. He stopped not far from the Espada, and Grimmjow’s eyes widened in surprise.
 
Ichigo dropped the two arrancar, Nel’s screams dying down into giggles. He left her on his shoulder and asked, “Care to tell me what I missed?”
 
“Y-You’re alive?”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “Is it that so surprising?”
 
Grimmjow tried to recover from his shock, but he could see the arrancar studying him carefully. “You’ve been gone for days, how am I supposed to know? You looked like trash last time I saw you.”
 
Ichigo brushed that off and answered flatly. “I missed you too. Now what happened?”
 
Grimmjow asked, “Shouldn’t you be asking Harribel?” His eyes flicked over to Nel. “And who the fuck are they?”
 
Nel let go of Ichigo’s shoulder, posing in front of Pesche and Dondochakka. “Nel!” The others shouted their names, striking a dramatic pose. “We’re-” Each of them shouted a different team name, and Ichigo didn’t catch any of them.
 
Ichigo sighed. “They’re arrancar, leave them be.” He looked back at them. “Behave.” He had no doubt Grimmjow wouldn’t recognize them. Maybe Szayel would, but he intended to keep them separated.
 
Ichigo tried his hardest to ignore the arrancar behind him, asking again. “What happened?”
 
Grimmjow said, “Well, when you didn’t come back, that quincy went home, didn’t seem all that concerned. Dunno what’s going on with the shinigami, but they didn’t follow us. Ulquiorra’s been looking for you, seems like whatever he’s found out, he’s not sharing. So where the fuck were you?”
 
Ichigo gave him a look, unsure how to answer that. “Alteza had me.” Grimmjow gave him another once over like he'd missed something important. Ichigo wasn’t sure if the Espada had any measure of concern about it, but if he was looking for weakness, he wouldn’t find any. “I'm fine. Apparently.” He still wasn’t sure how true that was, but he felt much better. He wasn’t in pain for once, and he wasn’t tired anymore.
 
Ichigo noticed Nel and her companions sneaking away. “Oy! Don’t wander off.”
 
They froze, and Ichigo turned back to Grimmjow. “I owe you three days of training.” Grimmjow stiffened like he'd been caught, and he continued, “Watch them for a bit. I don’t think I’ll be gone long.”
 
Grimmjow looked affronted. “You-I’m not a babysitter!”
 
His shout echoed behind him, Ichigo having already left in a burst of sonido. He knew he could trust Grimmjow not to harm or kill the three while he was gone. He might have a temper, but Ichigo had some measure of trust in the Espada.
 
He dropped his reiatsu now that he wasn’t standing within feet of Nel and her ‘brothers’. He hadn’t wanted to harm her when she was so weak, so he’d waited to announce himself until he had some distance. He sensed the Espada’s reiatsu fluctuate in response, content that they knew he was back. He hadn’t been gone that long, but long enough that any unruly arrancar might have started to get ideas.
 
He stopped close to Ulquiorra’s location, not surprised to find the Espada on the dome of Las Noches, he seemed to desire solitude. Ulquiorra turned to face him, and if his absence held any sort of meaning for him, he didn’t show it. He spoke as if he’d never been gone. “I went to the outer reaches of the Rukongai. I found unusual traces of reishi, but it wasn’t of a type I could manipulate.”
 
“Explain.”
 
Ulquiorra continued in his usual monotone. “It clung to the shadows and the places I could not see. When I reached for it, it was beyond my reach. That’s all I can tell you.”
 
That sounded like the Quincies to him, but if it was subtle, Ulquiorra had only found it because he was looking for it. He asked, “How far did it extend?”
 
The Espada answered. “Many miles. I was forced to retreat before I could investigate further.”
 
Ichigo asked, “What stopped you?”
 
“A captain of considerable strength. I returned to Hueco Mundo before they could engage.”
 
Maybe that would be enough to prompt Soul Society to investigate, maybe it wouldn’t, but they sure as shit wouldn’t be taking advice from him. “I see.”
 
He turned away, opening a garganta to Karakura. Maybe it was arrogance, but despite his earlier precautions, he didn’t bother following a route that would be difficult to trace. Should anyone threaten his home, there would be more than death to pay, and it was a threat he could back tenfold. Not to mention, he didn’t see why an Espada would risk coming to a town crawling with shinigami, it would be suicide.
 
Ulquiorra asked, “Where are you going?”
 
He was surprised Ulquiorra bothered asking at all. “I still have loose ends left to tie. I won’t be long.”
 
He vanished through the garganta, not wasting time. He let his transformation fall away...warily. He still felt fine, so whatever Alteza had done to him, it was deeper than skin and bone.
 
His brows furrowed, looking down at his now very human hands. He was a terrible brother; he was about to let down his family, in more ways than one.

“That ain’t yer fault, King.”

Psh, with that logic, I’m not responsible for anything.

He took his time passing through the Valley of Screams, this wasn’t a trip he was looking forward to. He left the garganta and sensed the shinigami converging on his location, but he didn’t bother with the usual song and dance. He ignored them, taking to the streets. They wouldn’t dare fight him for keeps with so many innocents around him, and like hell did they have the power to move him by force. He wasn’t in the mood to play games.
 
He walked towards Urahara’s shop, hands in his pockets. His shihakusho had regenerated when he shifted, which was convenient, even if it wasn’t necessary. He sensed their reiatsu surrounding him, but he didn’t outwardly react or stop. He said, “I’m surprised they let you station here, Rukia, given our past.”
 
She asked, “What past, Ichigo? I’m not who you remember.” Her tone was cold, but Ichigo saw through it. She was hurting.
 
Ichigo smiled wistfully, but didn’t stop to face her. “Ah. Isn’t that the truth.” He’d sent his Espada to Soul Society, and they had attacked Renji. He imagined she was struggling with her loyalties more than was comfortable.
 
Toshiro stepped into his path with shunpo, Zanpakuto raised. “Stop.”
 
Ichigo drawled, “Didn’t work the first time, Toshiro. Sure as hell isn’t going to work now.”
 
The young taicho commanded, “State your intentions.”
 
Ichigo didn’t like being ordered around, he felt a flash of anger whisper through his veins, but his regret dampened it. He paused, tilting his head. “Is Soul Society so callous that they would deny a dying man his final wish?”
 
Rukia stepped forward, and he could see her out of his peripheral. He didn’t look at her, he couldn’t. Even if his ties with her were frayed, they weren’t broken.
 
She asked, “Ichigo, what are you talking about?”
 
Ichigo said, “Dying, obviously. My link with my body is thin at best.” The time shouldn’t have been an issue with Urahara taking care of his body, but he knew Alteza had been busy chewing through his link to his body, like a rat chewing through rope. He knew now that link had been eroding bit by bit, and had been ever since Alteza got its filthy hands on him. He’d noticed as he returned to Las Noches, and he’d had some time to think about it. Not much, but enough to try to get a grip.
 
He sighed. “Let me say my goodbye’s in peace. I’m not here to cause trouble. I never have been.” Toshiro’s eyes narrowed, no doubt weighing his orders against his duty as a shinigami. Ichigo might be the king of Hueco Mundo, but he still had a living body, he fell right on the line of their jurisdiction. Ichigo shifted his weight, impatient. “Look, I came here on personal business, but if you get in my way, I’ll fight, and we all know how that will turn out.”
 
Toshiro started speaking nearly before Ichigo finished. “We’ll escort you. As soon as your business is over with,

you’re leaving

.”
 
Ichigo raised a brow, wondering how Toshiro intended to force him, but he wasn’t here to stir up the waters, he wasn’t planning on staying anyway. He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Have it your way.” He kept walking, and as he passed Toshiro, the other sheathed his Zanpakuto and fell into step behind him.
 
He could sense Matsumoto along with Yumichika following from a distance. Seems they had given up trying to capture him in favor of simple surveillance. Since he hadn’t attempted to attack any of them, it seemed like a wise decision.
 
He was content to walk in silence, he hardly ever got to walk anywhere anymore. He was always pressured for time, but he wasn’t going to run to his own funeral.
 
Karakura felt too small, contained, and it was a feeling he couldn't get over. It held a deep nostalgia and separation of a place left behind. It didn't feel like home anymore.
 
Rukia broke the silence, and he wished she hadn’t. She asked, “Why?”
 
He didn’t know how to answer that question anymore

. I’m disappointing everyone, aren’t I?

“Do you have regrets, Ichigo?”

...No.

That tasted like a lie.
 
He couldn’t think of any answer that would be good enough to explain away all the pain he’d caused her. “I’m doing what I’ve always done, Rukia.” Protecting people. Even if it cost him everything, he’d be sure they were happy, or so help him.
 
He was glad she didn’t pursue the topic, he made it to Kisuke’s Shop all too soon. The man was leaning in the doorway waiting for them, not that Ichigo was surprised. He had his cane resting on his shoulder, the picture of nonchalance, but Ichigo could see the ex-captain was tense. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Kurosaki-san?” He ignored his escorts for the time being, but he did acknowledge them with a look.
 
Ichigo jumped to the chase. “I think you already know. I’m dying, aren’t I?”
 
Kisuke’s expression fell, pushing off from the threshold to step in. “Ah. Come inside.”
 
Ichigo followed him, Toshiro and Rukia falling into step behind him. Kisuke led them to a back room where his body lay. It was still strange, seeing his younger self. In his spirit form didn’t look quite as old as he should, given he was a spirit, but the differences were still stark. He didn’t feel the tug he normally felt when he was near his body. If anything, he felt repelled.  
 
He crouched over his body, reaching out to touch, but stopped short, sensing none of the connection he should have. He curled his fingers into a fist and whispered, “You miserable bastard…” Alteza’s words echoed in his head.

Mine

.
 
Kisuke looked at him, assessing. “You’re different.”
 
Ichigo didn’t take it personally, he straightened, looking to Kisuke. He knew he was, he could feel it, but Kisuke existed outside of all of this, and he wanted to know what he saw. “Explain.”
 
“You don’t have the feel of a human soul.” He glanced to the two behind him. “Surely you noticed?”
 
He felt Rukia and Toshiro’s eyes on him, and he pretended they weren’t there. From their silence, he took it to mean they hadn’t. Ichigo asked, “So what did it do to me?”
 
Rukia questioned, “It?”
 
Ichigo pointed at the sky in response, “Alteza.” He didn’t take his eyes from Kisuke.
 
The captain leveled his cane at his chest, letting the tip settle near his heart. “You have no saketsu. You have a hakusui, which is strange, but your connection to your body is gone, like it was never there. It isn’t the same as if it were destroyed, you would no longer be a shinigami if that were the case.” He pulled the cane away, spinning it in his hand to rest on his shoulder.
 
Toshiro cut in. “Impossible. All shinigami have a saketsu.”
 
Kisuke looked past Ichigo to Toshiro. “And Kursosaki-san doesn’t feel like a human soul, or a shinigami, does he? I’m not sure what’s been done to you, but…” His eyes flicked back to rest on Kurosaki. “This is a feeling I recognize. It's something I would associate with the Hogyoku.”
 
Ichigo let out a frustrated breath. “Makes sense, I suppose.”
 
Toshiro's eyes narrowed, accusatory. “You used the Hogyoku on

yourself

?”
 
Ichigo brushed off his skepticism. “Not on purpose. I destroyed the one I stole from Soul Society.” Not entirely true, but it sounded more believable than feeding it to a monster.
 
Toshiro’s eyes widened, sharp enough to catch his word choice. “There's more than one?”
 
It wasn't a secret anymore, Ichigo saw no sense in hiding it from them. “Yeah, but it's not something you need to concern yourself with.”
 
Toshiro’s tone was clipped. “You merged with the one thing

Aizen

was after, and you're telling me

it's not my concern

?”
 
Ichigo shifted to face him, his tone carefully neutral. “Aizen had it wrong. He thought he could subjugate the Hogyoku to his own will, and his own hubris and idealism led to his death, at least in my time. The Hogyoku has no master, and I was just as idealistic and foolish for thinking I’d be any different. I don't want it, but I can't get rid of it.”
 
Rukia furrowed her brows, venturing. “Don’t you care?”
 
He looked at her. “What a strange question.” Did he seem like he didn’t care? He looked back down at his living body, struck by that accusation. He thought he had a chance to get his family back, to start over. He felt like a fool for believing that, if even for a moment.

How stupid was I, to think this might work?

“It’s not foolish to hope, Ichigo.”

He cared a lot, and it was taking a lot of effort to stay calm. If he wasn’t rested for once, he’d be failing that task miserably.
 
He was surprised to hear Yoruichi speak for him. She leaned in the doorframe, arms crossed. “What good would it do, Rukia, to cry over things that can’t be changed? Leave him be, you don't need to be hovering over him for this.” She looked to Toshiro. “You too.”
 
The two shinigami didn’t move, torn on letting Ichigo from their sight. Yoruichi made a disapproving sound. “Have you ever known this man to be subtle? Wait out front, you’re not missing anything you shouldn’t, and you're not going to.”
 
Ichigo watched the pair reluctantly leave, Toshiro shooting him a dirty look before he rounded the corner. He couldn’t blame him, he’d been gentle with his fukutaicho, but he’d still knocked her out on his watch.
 
Ichigo gave Yoruichi an irritated look. “You don’t have to fight my battles for me.”
 
Yoruichi rolled her eyes. ”Like

you

were going to send them away?”
 
“Che.” Ichigo ran his hand through his hair. He felt the need to argue, no matter how petty, to save some of his miserable pride, but he was grateful he didn’t have an audience for this.
 
He looked to Kisuke. “This is going to sound pathetic, but will you call my family?” He didn't have the guts to do it, and he didn't want to show up to their front door with shinigami escorts. Especially hostile ones. He knew the pair would never involve his family, but he didn't want Yuzu and Karin to worry any more than they had to.
 
Kisuke made an exasperated sound, passing him to pause in the doorway. “Kurosaki, you’re a friend. I'll go personally. I can do that much.”
 
Ichigo started. “Urahara…” He didn’t know how to continue, but Kisuke didn’t seem to expect him to.
 
The shopkeeper offered a slight smile, then left. Yoruichi didn’t offer so much as a goodbye before she shut the door to leave him alone. Gratitude didn’t even begin to describe how he felt.
 
He sank to the floor, staring at himself. It was strange, being on the outside again. He’d never gotten this chance in his time, it had simply been ripped away from him and he’d been forced to deal. He had a lot of bitterness stored up over it. Bitterness and regret.
 
He hated regret. It ate away at him like poison, and there were some things he’d refused to confront in favor of forgetting.
 
It wasn’t his ‘death’ that bothered him, it was that this ended any hope he may have had of a normal life. In his heart he knew it wasn’t something he could have any more, but having that door shut in his face...was painful. He hadn’t actually accepted it, it had been a distant thing. He would deal with it later, but now that ‘later’ was happening now, he wasn’t ready for it.
 
He’d really fucked things up. He’d stolen away what little time his sisters might have had with their brother because he was weak,

he was a coward

.
 
“King.”
 
The voice came from behind him, not from within his soul. He hadn’t noticed Zangetsu pull on his reiryoku, but for better or worse, he’d manifested himself so he couldn’t be ignored.
 
His hollow said nothing, he merely sat down, his back pressed to his. Zangetsu leaned his weight against him, the flat of their swords pressed together, but they hardly made contact otherwise. It was the kind of reassurance he’d needed, even if he hadn’t asked for it. He’d let people get a little closer, but that distance between them still remained. It was pathetic that the only one he truly trusted was his sword.
 
He muttered, “I never thought things would turn out like this.”
 
He felt Zangetsu’s shoulders shake in quiet laughter.
“Ain’t that an understatement.”
 
He sat there until the room started to get dark, but he hardly noticed, he could still make out the darkest reaches of the room. Odd, given the light was fading. He’d needed this time to himself, the silence helped ease his fears and regrets, enough that he felt confident he could face his family.
 
Eventually the door slid open, and he looked up to see his father standing there. He could sense Yuzu and Karin nearby now that he was looking for them, and from the look on his father’s face, it was because he didn’t want them to overhear what he was about to say. Zangetsu stood first, hovering over him. Ichigo followed suit, not looking forward to this at all. “Ojisan.”
 
The look on his father’s face was harsh. “Ichigo, you-”
 
Isshin reached for Ichigo, but Zangetsu stopped him with a firm hand on his wrist before he could touch him. “Ain’t nothin’ ya can say to him he isn’t already blamin’ himself for. Save it.”
 
Isshin pulled his hand away with a growl. “

Hollow

. Don’t interfere.”
 
Zangetsu grinned. “If King didn’t want me here, I’d be gone.” Isshin drew his arm back to punch Zangetsu, but his sword was faster, stronger, and he caught his fist with minimal effort. “What a shitty dad.”
 
Isshin jerked free, and he only succeeded because Zangetsu let him.
 
Ichigo asked, “What did Kisuke tell you?”
 
Isshin growled. “That your body is dying, and you can’t return to it. He wouldn’t tell me anything else, you know what the bastard is like.”
 
Ichigo wasn’t surprised that he was angry. He’d always put Yuzu and Karin first, in a way, even more so now that Ichigo was essentially an adult. It was no wonder he was angry at him for putting this kind of grief on them.
 
Isshin took a step closer and Zangetsu mirrored him, keeping firmly between the two. Zangetsu bared his teeth in a snarl. “

Back off

. King’s had his soul ripped apart, put back together and violated, like shit I’m going to let you make it worse.” His threat was real, even if Ichigo wasn’t going to tolerate letting him actually harm his father.
 
Isshin hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
 
“

Zangetsu

-”
 
He glanced back at Ichigo. “Shut the fuck up,” He turned his glare back onto Isshin. “

And you

, I don’t want to hear some shit about King not tryin.”
 
Isshin looked like he might keep arguing, then crossed his arms, relenting. “Fine. What happened?”
 
Ichigo let Zangetsu take over, he didn’t really want to talk about it. Neither did Zangetsu, but he was angry enough to do it. His Zanpakuto leaned in like he wanted to fight, but held his ground. “Alteza happened. King’s been unconscious for days, with that

thing

rearranging his soul. It removed King’s saketsu while he was unconscious, and that bastard is still in here,

whisperin’

. I don’t wanna hear your shit.”
 
Isshin’s eyes widened, looking past him to Ichigo. “Alteza?”
 
Ichigo said nothing, he only looked away and let Zangetsu continue. “Yeah, Alteza. That monster in the sky, the Hogyoku.” Zangetsu growled under his breath. “I’ve had just about enough of watching King get his soul trashed up, like hell I’m going to let his heart suffer too.”
 
Isshin grit his teeth and swore, looking away. Ichigo said, “I know you’re upset. Maybe I could have done more, but it’s too late for that. You’re not the one that has to live with that.” He understood why Isshin was angry, he knew it was only out of concern and frustration that he was placing blame, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
 
Isshin stared at him then, and Ichigo found it hard not to look away. He hated how his father did that. Sometimes he would really

look

, and he remembered he was a shinigami, a captain, and then a husband and a father. He clenched his jaw and met him steadily, finding it hard not to hide his heartache and regrets. He let him see it, despite every instinct to bury those feelings.
 
His father finally sighed, looking away. He changed the subject. “You rely on your Zanpakuto too much.”
 
Zangetsu stayed between them, looking more than a little upset. Ichigo looked at his hollow, and shrugged. “Didn’t have anyone else.” It was only the truth. When he’d been a kid, alone in Hueco Mundo, there was only one voice there to pull him back from the edge.
 
Isshin didn’t have anything to say about that, he only took a step back and then turned for the door. “I’ll get your sisters. Get rid of your attack dog.”
 
Zangetsu reached for the sword on his back, but Ichigo grabbed his shoulder, his grip tight. His Zanpakuto disappeared back into his soul, annoyed that he had to go back when Ichigo was still so vulnerable.

There’s no enemy here. I’ll be fine

.
 
Zangetsu didn’t respond, and his father left him to bring his sisters. He felt dread settling in his stomach like acid, his eyes shifting back to his body. He felt the urge to kill himself, to be done with it, to take back some control. His fingers twitched for his sword, but he kept himself still.
 
The only thing that stopped him from driving his sword into his heart was his sister's inevitable reaction to such impulsiveness. They didn't need to see their brother torn apart, his desires were once again selfish.
 
He folded his arms instead, waiting in the dark. Several agonizing minutes passed before Yuzu and Karin appeared in the doorway, blocking most of the light.
 
Their eyes flicked from his body, to him in understanding. They knew what he was, even if they didn’t know the whole story, and from the way they looked at him, his father had explained just why he couldn’t come back.
 
He saw Karin struggling not to cry, but Yuzu was far past that point. She ran to him, throwing himself against his chest. Her shoulders trembled with sobs, her hands gripping his kosode. His brows twisted, fighting the tightening in his chest.
 
He wrapped his arms around her, threading his fingers through her hair. His whispered words were for her alone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the older brother you needed.” She cried harder, and he didn’t have the heart to try to stop her.
 
He looked over her head to Karin. She was biting her lip, her hair still damp from a shower. She looked angry, heartbroken. “How could you?!” He didn’t flinch away from her anger, he deserved this. He’d taken her brother from her, intentional or not, the least he could do was face her pain. “You’re supposed to be here. Ichi-” Her throat tightened, tears streaking down her cheeks. She lifted her hands to her face to hide her tears. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”
 
“Karin…”
 
She swiped at her tears, trying to get rid of them, but they kept falling. He could see the shame on her face in the blush on her cheeks. He held Yuzu tighter, lifting her off the ground just a enough to step forward with shunpo. He pulled Karin into his arms beside Yuzu, and she didn’t fight him off. He said softly. “It’s okay to cry.”
 
Karin protested through her tears. “Ichi-nii doesn’t cry.”
 
Ichigo murmured, “Who told you that?”
 
Karin looked up at him, seeing the tears gathering in his eyes in surprise. Unlike Yuzu, her tears were silent, all her agony bundled up inside her. They ended up in a heap on the ground, both of them in his arms, Isshin standing nearby, surprisingly silent.
 
Ichigo hadn’t thought his heart could hurt so much, but having his sisters in his arms again, saying goodbye, it hurt. It hurt more than he thought it could. He held them until they couldn’t cry anymore, pushing them both back so he could look at them. If he didn’t move them, they would never let go, and one of them had to be the bad guy, and he could fill that role if he had to.
 
He smiled at Karin. “You were always strong, you’ll be okay.” He looked to Yuzu, brushing his fingers over her cheek. “Keep Karin out of trouble for me.”
 
Yuzu started to tear up again. “Ichi…”
 
“Shhh. I have to go. Be brave..” He ushered them to their feet, meeting his father’s eyes. He thought by sheer will Isshin kept his composure. For once, his father was being the adult. He took Yuzu and Karin from him, Karin shrugging his hand off her shoulder as soon as she was out of the room. They didn’t need to be there when his heart gave out, they didn’t need to see that.
 
His link with his body didn’t even exist anymore, but he wasn’t blind, his body wouldn’t last another night. Kisuke took his family’s place in the doorway not long after they left him alone.
 
Ichigo was staring down at his body again. “Is it sick that I want to kill myself?”
 
Kisuke stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. The room was cast in darkness, the gentle glow of moonlight the only thing illuminating the room. Kisuke said, “I think I understand, Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo wanted some control over this. Alteza had taken the choice away from him. He couldn’t forgo all personal responsibility for this, but in the end, he was once again bending to someone else’s will. Some

thing

, in this case. At the very least he wanted to control when and how he died. It was a shallow, petty thing to desire, but he wanted it nonetheless.
 
Kisuke answered flatly. “The connection with your soul is already severed. Killing yourself would be as simple as killing any other human.”           
 
Ichigo was struck by self awareness, wondering why Kisuke was there at all. “Should you be enabling me?”
 
Kisuke answered simply. “It’s better than leaving you alone.”
 
Ichigo didn't answer, he sank to his knees beside himself. He held his hand over his mouth and nose, struck by how easy it was. He felt sick...

angry

, and that anger only grew as the seconds crawled on. His body twitched, struggling without a will of its own to live. He could have done this any number of ways, but he wanted it this way. Personal. If he was going to force himself to face something, it was going to be his own death.
 
He found himself leaning over his body, his hand tightening around his face. He felt fragile under his hand. It would be all too easy to damage himself beyond repair, to shatter bone, to tear his fingers into flesh.

“Eeeeaaasy, King.”

His anger fell away into hatred, and it was a chore to force himself to ease his grip. He grit his teeth, his thoughts turning inwards, deep down towards the leech in his soul.

Happy now, you sonovabitch?

No answer. He wasn't surprised. He didn’t know if Alteza even understood emotion, but he hated it with all the depth of his being.
 
He could feel the instant his heart stopped. He might not have a connection with his soul anymore, but it was still his living body, and that connection existed on a level he didn’t truly understand.
 
This was it, there was no going back now.
 
He pried his hand from the body. That wasn’t him. It looked like him, but it wasn’t. It was merely one more example of how he was a stranger in this time.
 
His hands were shaking as he lifted his hands to his head and fisted them in his hair. He had his own strain of self loathing, but his hatred for Alteza was more absolute.
 
Kisuke ventured carefully. “Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo eased his grip, sitting back on his heels. He was so tired of being used.

BRING IT TO ME

And

now

Alteza had something to say.

If I refuse?

Pain spiked in his soul, not allowing him to linger. Ichigo muttered, “Bastard.” He could feel the whisper of the Hogyoku nearby. He’d been blocking it out, but it was there. He didn’t know how he could tell those whispers apart from the ones in his soul, but they felt different.
 
He stubbornly considered ignoring Alteza and suffering the consequences.

“Ichigo, choose your battles. You wish to be rid of the Hogyoku as well, and we can’t know what will happen should we refuse to return it.”

Ossan was right, it wasn’t worth preserving his pride over this. He straightened and said, “I'm taking the Hogyoku.” Kisuke turned to retrieve it and Ichigo muttered, “Don’t bother.” He lifted his hand,

calling

for it. He didn’t know how he knew how to do that, it was instinctual, subconscious in the way he would open a garganta.
 
Darkness flowed around his hand and lower arm like rushing water, filling the space above his hand. The sealed Hogyoku appeared between his fingers, the Kidou crumbling and falling away like plaster. The darkness evaporated, and the crystal surrounding the Hogyoku cracked and shattered. Ichigo clenched his hand around the small orb and started for the door.
 
Kisuke took a step back, keeping himself from Ichigo’s path. He asked, “What did you do?”
 
Ichigo’s answer was bitter. “Just following orders.” He wondered if the distance Kisuke put between them was out of fear or wisdom. Maybe it was a combination of both.

He could feel the Hogyoku reacting, space rippling around his arm. He didn’t have a lot of time to wait around.
 
He left the shop, Rukia and Toshiro were hovering nearby, and Ichigo didn’t fail to notice how they both tensed. He could sense his family inside, and he was glad they weren’t there to see him go, he wasn’t in a good place.
 
He was so focused on his own thoughts, he almost didn’t notice Chad waiting for him. Chad didn’t look like he was expecting anything, he was simply there. Ichigo didn't know how long he'd been waiting, but he looked determined. “We’re here if you need us, Ichigo.”
 
It was a nice reminder. It was easy to forget he still had friends. Ichigo let out a slow breath. “I’ll be back for you, if that’s what you want.”
 
Chad was adamant. “I don't want to be a burden.”
 
Then nothing had changed. He smiled, even if it was strained. “Thanks, Chad.”
 
He closed his eyes, leaning on his hollow power. His transformation took him, that familiar numbness less of a comfort than he hoped it would be.
 
He opened a garganta, looking down at the Hogyoku in his hand when he felt a sharp shift in energy. Didn’t seem it liked the garganta much. It rippled, darkness beginning to swirl around it. At the very least Alteza seemed to be making an effort to contain the distortion. It hurt where the darkness touched him, but it was nothing like the agony he’d experienced before. Whatever change had happened in him, the hogyoku was reacting more violently than the last time.
 
Rukia questioned. “What

is

that?”
 
“Doesn’t matter, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
 
“Ichigo!”
 
He stepped into the garganta and lifted his hand in a wave. “See ya, midget.”
 
He shut the garganta before she could respond, slipping into sonido.
 
He felt the pressure on his soul, like a sword held at his back. It pissed him off. He would have destroyed the Hogyoku regardless, but having an ultimatum was no different than being given orders.
 
He stepped out of the garganta, directly above the chasm Alteza had opened in the desert. He dropped the Hogyoku, eager to be rid of it, and after a moment, he was met with frenzied whispers.

YEEEEESSSSSS

That was significantly easier than the first time, he was almost in denial. “Now leave me be.”

BALANCE MUST BE ACHIEVED

Ichigo flexed his hand, working the tingling out of his muscles. He had a feeling that tingling was pain he wasn't registering, but whatever Alteza had done to him was masking him from it.
 
Balance. He had no idea what that meant, and Alteza wasn't much of a conversationalist.
 
He turned, leaning into sonido to return to Las Noches. He couldn’t get it out of his head; his father’s frustration, his sisters crying, their tears dampening his kosode, his heart stopping. It replayed over and over, and he still felt sick.
 
He reached Las Noches, and sought out the only Espada who knew what he was. He didn’t want empathy, quite the opposite.
 
Ichigo appeared before him, and Grimmjow seemed less startled to see him this time around. He asked, “Where’s Nel?”
 
“Left them with Starrk and Lilynette. Shithead says he’s lonely, well now he ain’t.”
 
Ichigo looked to the side, searching for Nel’s reiatsu, and true to Grimmjow’s word, they were with Starrk, and unsurprisingly, Starrk seemed to be at ease.
 
Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed, taking a slight step back. “What’s wrong with you?”
 
Ichigo looked back at him, defensive. “Who says there’s something wrong?”
 
“Ya look like you want to kill somethin’.”
 
Ichigo couldn’t deny that. He admitted, “I didn’t come here to find Nel, I want a fight.”
 
Grimmjow reached for his sword on reflex at his demand, his hand resting on the hilt. “What if I refuse?”
 
Ichigo’s tone darkened. “Who says you’re allowed to refuse?”
 
Grimmjow still didn’t draw, gritting his teeth. “The last time you had that look on your face you tried to make me kill you.”
 
Ichigo burst out laughing, he couldn’t help it, the irony was too painful not to. He ran out of steam and got his laughter under control quickly enough, Grimmjow’s expression filtering from confusion, to concern. Ichigo said, “I already took care of that.”
 
Ichigo lunged, fist drawn back, and moved at a speed where Grimmjow would still be able to block. If Ichigo drew his sword, this fight would be over before it started.
 
Grimmjow drew Pantera, blocking his fist with the blade. He pushed Ichigo back and shouted, “The fuck does that mean?!”
 
Ichigo side stepped a downward strike, dodging his blows with little effort. He didn’t need to dodge, but he

needed

to move. He let out a disgusted sound. “What else could that mean?”
 
Grimmjow raised his arm to block a kick that sent him sliding into the wall. His eyes widened, ducking under a fist that crushed the stone where his head had just been. He skipped back, demanding, “Tell me.”
 
Ichigo appeared behind Grimmjow, shoving him forward. “Tell you

what

?”
 
The Espada recovered, spinning to face him. He seemed well aware Ichigo was toying with him, but for once he wasn’t getting angry, he seemed determined. Grimmjow growled. “You keep doing stupid shit. What did you do?”
 
Ichigo hesitated, and Grimmjow noticed. The Espada sheathed his sword, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. “I ain’t gonna be your punching bag without knowin’ the reason why, Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo’s felt a flash of rage, his hand around his fraccion’s throat before his head could catch up to his actions. “I told you not to call me that.”
 
Grimmjow gasped, but the glare he shot him was murderous and stubborn. Ichigo could recall how it had felt to smother himself, and that wave of nausea had him loosening his grip. Grimmjow knew his threat was empty, which only made him angrier, but it wasn’t something to kill him over. He let Grimmjow go so he could speak, and to his credit, the Espada didn’t reach up to his throat. Grimmjow asked again. “What did you do?”
 
Ichigo glared at the Espada. “I already told you. I killed myself.” Grimmjow’s brows furrowed in confusion, and from the blank look on his face, he didn’t get it. Ichigo hissed in annoyance. “I still had a living body. Alteza destroyed my connection to it, so I finished it.”
 
Grimmjow’s expression changed, but Ichigo couldn’t read what it was. Grimmjow asked, “What was that like?”
 
Ichigo was surprised by the morbid curiosity in his tone. It was a real question, and Ichigo wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to answer. “...Easy”
 
Grimmjow asked, “Why’d you do it?”
 
“My life is mine!” Ichigo stiffened, ashamed by the amount of emotion he’d let slip. His life was always yanked from his grasp, he was so tired of being used.
 
Grimmjow studied him, understanding clouding his features. He sheathed his sword. “I ain’t gonna fight you. Fight your hollow instead.”
 
He could feel Zangetsu’s reluctance to fight him, he didn’t need to ask him, he already knew. Ichigo snarled, “He won’t fight.”
 
“Then he gets it.” Grimmjow looked like he was bracing himself for an attack, and that alone reminded Ichigo to be still.
 
Ichigo grabbed Grimmjow by the jacket, yanking him closer. He demanded. “Why won’t you fight?”
 
“You’re strong, Kurosaki...but I noticed something.” Ichigo let the name slip slide, his eyes narrowing. “You hide it from the other Espada, you’re careful, but you’re not careful around me. Fuck if I know why. I’m not fighting you when you’re like this, it’s pointless.”
 
Ichigo let him go, wary, but Grimmjow just kept staring at him. His tone was flat. “Am I so transparent?”
 
“No, but I’ve seen you at your worst, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “I’m not gonna fight you when you might kill me on accident, I’m not that stupid. You wanna blow off steam, go fight something expendable.”
 
Ichigo bared his teeth in a silent snarl and turned away, pacing. “You’re not suppose to make sense.”
 
Grimmjow watched him pace for a moment, then said, “There’s more.”
 
It wasn’t a question, Grimmjow was either observant, or spent too much time around him. That or Ichifo was letting his guard down more than he thought he was. Ichigo kept pacing, once again weighing the benefits of telling the truth.

“Y’know he won’t use it against you. At least one of these fuckers should know your will isn’t entirely your own.”

Just hearing it worded that way had him tense. Ichigo paused, raising a hand and loosing one of the few Kido he could do without an incantation. White energy crackled like lightning up and down the hallway, giving them some privacy from Las Noches’ rather thorough surveillance. He should have done that sooner, but this secret was objectively more important.
 
Ichigo said, “Alteza is still in here. If it decides it wants me to do something, I don’t think I can stop it. I can

feel

it.” He shuddered, and started pacing again.
 
Grimmjow looked skeptical. “How does it

make

you do something?”
 
Ichigo curled his lip in disgust. “It’s merged with my soul, it

hurts

. It not pain I can describe. If it wants me to do something badly enough, I think it could make me. You needed to know. I’m not sure if you could do anything about it, but

someone

should know.”
 
Grimmjow made an irritated sound. “So what does it want?”
 
Ichigo growled, “Fuck if I know.

Balance

. It keeps telling me it wants balance. I don’t know what the fuck that means.”

“Calm down.”

He stopped, letting out a slow breath. Zangetsu was right, getting riled up about it all over again wouldn’t help anything. He said, “Then there’s

this

, and I don’t know what to make of it.”
 
He pulled, raising his left arm. He used the Hogyoku as an anchor, recalling the feeling he’d had in Urahara’s shop. It was easier this time, and like before, there was no resistance. Darkness rose from his skin, flowing around his arm and hand.
 
Grimmjow’s scowl deepened. “What is that?”
 
Ichigo turned his hand, staring at the flowing dark. It didn’t feel like anything against his skin. If he couldn’t see it and feel the pull in his soul, he might have doubted it was there at all. “Don’t know. What’s it feel like?”
 
Grimmjow looked wary. He said, “Nothing...you’re a creepy fucker, Kurosaki.”
 
“Don’t call me that.” There was less venom in his voice, dropping his hand and dispelling the dark.
 
Grimmjow asked, “What’s it feel like to you?”
 
“Physically? Nothing. I just get the sense of...a tide. Dunno how else to describe it.”
 
Grimmjow said, “That’s unhelpful. What’s it

do

?”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “I don’t know, I woke up hours ago, why would I know?”
 
Grimmjow shrugged and said, “Well if you can’t get rid of the fucker, make it your bitch.”
 
Ichigo was struck by that suggestion. He looked down at his hand, extending his senses down towards his own soul.  “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
 
“Cause yer a dumbass.”
 
Ichigo gave him a disapproving look, but his heart wasn’t in it.
 
Grimmjow said, “I’m not gonna fight you before you figure that shit out, or at least figure out if you’re contagious.”
 
Ichigo argued, “I’m not sick, stupid.”
 
Grimmjow sneered. “Whatever, that thing almost killed me twice, I’m not gonna go down by catching a bad case of

death

. Keep your distance.”
 
Ichigo scoffed, but he felt a bit better. “Fine, then until I figure out what’s different, you’re fighting Ulquiorra.”
 
Grimmjow’s expression shifted rapidly from surprise to outrage. “What?! I’m not fighting that asshole!”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes. “You’re probably getting too comfortable fighting me anyway, and Ulquiorra is difficult to read and closer to your skill.”
 
He protested. “Like hell, why’s it gotta be him?”
 
Ichigo turned away, brushing off his complaints. “I just told you, now stop whining. I’ll be back later.” He left him in a burst of sonido, distracted by the prospect of using this to his advantage. He didn’t even know what it was. It could be nothing, or a weapon, or simply unreliable, but he wouldn’t know until he tried.
 
He stopped a good distance from Las Noches and sat on the sand in the position for Jinzen, but left his swords where they were. For the first time in days, he had no real obligations and nowhere to be. If there wasn’t an impending war and his soul wasn’t in the hands of a monster, he might have actually been at ease. He closed his eyes and fell into his inner world.
 
--- xxx ---
  
Saketsu: Binding chain

Hakusui: Soul sleep
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Dondochakka Birstanne - Pesche Guatiche - Bawabawa

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“These violent delights have violent ends.”

--- xxx ---
 
Ichigo hadn’t been in his inner world in a while, he wasn’t expecting it to be different. He should have known better. The whispers he could hear in the back of his mind flowed around him full force. There was no beginning or end or source, they simply existed. The skyscrapers that were slowly sinking into the desert were no longer sinking into the white sands of Hueco Mundo. This sand was black and sharp, like chipped obsidian.
 
Zangetsu wasn’t too far away, lying down with his arms behind his head. His hollow said, “Didn’t want to worry you.”
 
Ichigo spun when he heard Ossan’s voice from behind him. “It isn’t so strange your inner world would change, not when your soul is so fundamentally different.” His spirit crossed the cracked glass windows to stand before him.
 
Ichigo’s brows furrowed, looking out over the endless desert. The sand shifted in a way that made him nervous. It wasn’t wind shifting the sands, but rather something beneath it that made the dunes sigh in response.
 
Zangetsu said, “Creepy, ain’t it?”
 
Ichigo asked, “Is that Alteza?”
 
Ossan said, “One can assume. I don’t recommend getting close to it.”
 
Ichigo crossed over to the edge of the building to get a better look. He asked, “What do you think would happen if you touched it?”
 
“We are a part of you, Ichigo, and now so is Alteza, but we are separate from it. I don’t know.”
 
That wasn’t reassuring at all. He looked at Zangetsu and said, “You don’t seem all that concerned.”
 
Zangetsu glanced up at him. “I’m pissed as all hell, but it’s like you said, what the fuck am I going to do about it?” He closed his eyes. “Kitty had a good idea.”
 
Ichigo said, “He did, that’s why I’m here. I wanted to get closer to it.”
 
Zangetsu asked, “Why?”
 
Ichigo said, “Why else? To understand it.”
 
Zangetsu looked up at him, confused. “But you hate it.”
 
Ichigo said, “All the more reason to understand it.” He stepped off the edge of the building, falling the distance to the sand below.
 
Zangetsu was on his feet in a heartbeat. “King! The fuck’re you doing?!”
 
Ichigo landed in a crouch, the sound similar to crunching glass.
 
Ichigo’s brow furrowed, lifting his hand from the sand. It was frigid, like ice. He felt fear rush up his spine, but he held his ground, the sand shifting like so many whispers near his feet. He had the impression of something vast beneath the sand, something he couldn’t comprehend, but was inexorably tied to. This was the thing that had clung to his soul and stolen his life. He swallowed.
 
“King! Are you insane?!”
 
Ichigo found his voice, shouting back up at him. “What good is it if I’m terrified of the thing in my own soul? How well did that work out when I was afraid of

you

?”
 
“King,

I’m part of you

, this thing is different! Don’t you have anything to say about this, old man?”
 
Ichigo could hear the steady baritone of Ossan’s voice. He sounded a bit worried, but not enough to try to talk him out of it. “It’s Ichigo’s soul, it’s up to him to do what he thinks is best.”
 
Zangetsu snarled, “

Useless

.”
 
Ichigo started to walk out over the dunes and the sand shifted under his feet. Walking out over it felt like swimming into shark infested waters with an open wound.
 
Something grabbed his ankle and he yelped in surprise.
 
He looked down and forced down the urge to scream. A long fingered hand held him fast, his heart pounding as more hands clawed out of the sand, gripping his shihakusho. The hands rippled like black water, clawing up his leg and dragging him down. He looked back over at Zangetsu, who seemed to be contemplating jumping. He warned, “Don’t you dare! You don’t know what it’ll do to you!”
 
The whispering grew louder, rising like a tide around him, drowning out whatever foul language Zangetsu was screaming. The sand beneath his feet gave way, and the hands jerked him below the surface.
 
The glass-like sand cut into his skin, then the sensation transitioned into piercing cold. It pressed in on him from all sides, the pressure too strong to move. He felt the claw of fingers raking over his skin in painful lines. He shivered, squeezing his eyes shut in the darkness. He had no idea what this was beyond his own occupied subconscious.
 
The whispers suddenly stopped, leaving his ears to ring in the silence.

YOU SEEK ANSWERS

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, prickling like needles over his skin. Calm down. He was there for answers, he couldn’t fall apart.

What did you do to me?

THE HOST IS THE HEART

THE BLOOD FLOWS THROUGH THE HEART

The blood...what is that?

He didn’t get an answer, so maybe that was the wrong question...maybe it was being literal? Was the darkness he’d called on instinct the blood?

What does it do?

No answer.

Where does it come from?

EVERYWHERE

That was maddeningly unhelpful, and simultaneously the answer he'd been looking for.

How long have you been here?

ALTEZA IS ETERNAL

If it had always been there, why did it only recently begin to react? The Hogyoku moved it, but it clung to him like tar, and it was just as active now as it had been before.

Why do you need me?

THERE MUST BE A HOST

That didn’t make his future sound very promising.

Who was the host before me?

HOLLOW

It’s answers were vague and broad, but at least it wa answering. He could only assume the host before him had been some kind of vasto lorde or arrancar. If it needed a powerful host, he couldn’t think of another evolution of hollow. Unless he was unaware of higher tiers of evolution. Even Aizen had proven to be bound by his own intellect and imagination.

You call yourself Alteza. What are you a king of?

DARKNESS

He could have guessed that much, but it didn't seem like Alteza was keen on giving him a thorough answer for anything. It made some sense given it was always night in Hueco Mundo. It was a world that seemed to be the inverse of both the living world and Soul Society, and it made him wonder how much of an influence Alteza was on Hueco Mundo.

What is my purpose?

MAINTAIN THE BALANCE

THE HOST IS THE WARDEN OF THIS REALITY

That was new.

Warden?

THE HOST MUST MAINTAIN THE BALANCE

What happens if there is no host?

CHAOS

He didn’t understand. There was no host before him, Aizen had only succeeded in half of the Hogyoku, and while separate, it wasn’t enough to awaken Alteza. That meant what they had right now was chaos, it spoke like things weren’t balanced.

What do you mean, chaos?

This was the wrong thing to ask. Pain shot up his spine and through his being. Then he was free. He gasped, suddenly surrounded by endless night. Hueco Mundo? How did he get here? No, he couldn't have been possessed again, not again-

HOSSST-WATCH

He stiffened at the voice that rang in his head. He watched the sands, but nothing seemed to happen. It sounded to adamant, he kept looking for something different.
 
Then he noticed the sands were flowing in reverse. Sand trailed upwards, the dunes shifted and flowed with motion he found unsettling. It moved faster, faster, the waxing and waning of the moon beginning to transition so rapidly, the moon seemed to remain full. He watched years pass before him, and at first, all he saw was a pale ocean of rolling dunes, churning like an angry sea.
 
Then he noticed something. The dunes swirled around structures like foam in rapids, and slowly, buildings came into sight...no, temples. He recognized the shape, they looked like Teocalli, the cascading steps of the temples emerging from the sand. They were stark white with no seams or stones,  just like Las Noches. There were no signs of it having ever been built, they seemed eroded, but eerily perfect.
 
Time kept slipping by, and as the sands receded, he saw just how massive the temples were. They towered over him, casting long shadows over the dunes. More and more buildings sprang up around him, until the desert was gone, and only a glimmering city of white remained. It stretched for miles and miles, and slowly, time began to move at a more natural pace. He realized there were people...no, arrancar?
 
The rush of motion shifted from a nauseating blur to something resembling a normal speed. They looked like people, except their mask fragments gave them away. There were men and women walking up and down the streets, buying, selling, talking, laughing.

What is this?

THE PAST.

THERE MUST BE A HOST

Why me?

YOU ARE A STRONG HOST

I don’t understand.

THIS DREAM IS YOURS

MAINTAIN THE BALANCE.

Just like the chill of night, Ichigo felt reiatsu of a different sort pressing in around him. It was persistent and strong, strong enough that he didn’t think the people in this memory would have felt it. It How could someone be so strong? Ichigo hadn’t felt dwarfed like this since he’d faced Aizen, but this power wasn’t cold and indifferent, it was merely resilient.
 
Ichigo didn’t know how he knew, but he knew this reaitsu belonged to his predecessor...
 
--- xxx ---
 
Ichigo sat bolt upright, gasping for air. He was laying on the dunes, dark hands releasing his shihakusho. He lurched to his feet, skipping back, then got a look at his surroundings. He was back in a familiar mentalscape, he could hear Zangetsu shouting at him in the distance. He jumped back to the ‘safety’ of the sinking skyscrapers with a burst of shunpo. He was still breathing hard, his heart hammering.
 
Zangetsu grabbed his kosode in a fist, screaming at him, but he wasn’t hearing a word of it. He was lost in thought, still focused on the past he’d been shown. Was that even real?
 
He batted Zangetsu’s hand away, brushing him off. “Shh.”
 
The world had once been whole, it hadn’t been merely ruins sinking into a lonely desert. Could he really change that? He’d assumed Aizen had been using Kidou to shape Las Noches, but maybe he was wrong?
 
Zangetsu had stopped shouting at some point, but he couldn’t pinpoint when. Ichigo looked at both his inner spirits and said, “Did you see any of that?”
 
His hollow snapped, “Would I be shouting at you if I did?!”
 
Good point. He said, “It showed me the past.” That got their attention, or at least Ossan’s. He wasn’t ever sure about Zangetsu. “Hueco Mundo use to be a city...sort of.”
 
Zangetsu asked, “A city? Why is that relevant?”
 
Ichigo voiced his thoughts aloud. “I think...I’m the host for this thing, and I think the last host made that city.”
 
Ossan asked, “What led you to believe that was the case?”
 
Ichigo said, “It told me this was my dream.”

Zangetsu growled, “The fuck does that mean?”
 
Ichigo pulled himself out of jinzen, staring out at the desert. He had no idea how long that had taken, but he had a better idea of what he was dealing with. He stood, turning his thoughts inwards.

I can feel it everywhere. It wasn’t lying.

“Feel what, Ichigo?”

The blood.

It’s what Alteza called it, and he understood now what it meant. It was in the sand, within him, even the air. He closed his eyes and focused, recalling that city he’d seen in the past.
 
He spread out his awareness, tracing every particle of sand, every flicker of darkness within the world. He called on the blood, and it responded, shifting the world beneath his feet.
 
It was then that he understood what the sand was. Bone.
 
It didn’t ooze reiatsu like human bone, it was a different sensation, the same feeling he got off of Alteza. He reached out with his consciousness, seizing the bone fragments with his mind the same way he would seize the darkness.
 
He raised his hands, pulling the darkness and the sand along with it. It responded to his will the way his reiatsu would. He guided it with instinct and the force of his will, shaping and forming it.

THIS IS YOUR DREAM

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
He hadn’t seen Kurosaki in hours, and on the note they’d parted on, his was worried...curious. Worried didn’t seem like the right word. It was uncanny how Kurosaki managed to pull himself out of impossible situations, he’d started to fantasize he was invincible.
 
He’d seen him at his wits end, he’d seen him when he was convinced he would die, but he was always fine. He didn’t think anyone else could have managed that. He liked to entertain he was strong, but Kurosaki was just unfair. He could take a sword to the neck and simply be annoyed. He was both envious and in awe, and that all boiled down to rage. Rage was an easy emotion, but one he found himself falling into less and less frequently.
 
Without being able to track Kurosaki’s reiatsu, he was left to find him the old fashioned way. He circled Las Noches, and found him not far out. He was just standing there, motionless except for the wind tugging his hair along with it. He sat on the outer wall and watched, both curious and having nothing better to do.
 
An hour passed, then another, and he lay down, getting bored. Without the drive to consume other hollows, there was hardly anything to do, but it wasn’t long before his instincts warned him something was different. He sat up, well trained at that point to be wary of anything regarding Kurosaki.
 
The visored still hadn’t moved, but darkness was swirling around him like water. It kept low to the sand, swirling slowly, deliberately. Just lIke Kurosaki, he couldn't get a read off of it.
 
Nothing happened for a long few minutes, then Kurosaki raised his hands, the darkness rising with it. It was pulled from the sand like oil in all directions, flowing outwards towards

him

. He flinched back, but it parted around grimmjow like fog and didn't touch him.  
 
“What is he doing?” Grimmjow  jumped, turning to see Ulquiorra. He looked past him and saw Harribel not far off. He noticed the dark didn’t touch them either. Like rocks in a stream, it flowed around them.
 
Grimmjow looked back at Ichigo and said, “Not sure, but it’s got somethin’ to do with

that

thing.” He pointed at the sky.
 
Harribel sighed, like she’d expected this answer.
 
Moments passed and nothing changed, and that only made it more striking when something did. The ground split in all directions, sand swirling, and Grimmjow jumped up, putting distance between himself and chaos. Harribel and Ulquiorra reacted similarly, and they all watched in shock as the desert became new.
 
The sand reformed, taking shape, and as the darkness swirled away from the chaos, Kurosaki let his hands fall. In the wake of the dark, towering temples of white stood among the dunes. Grimmjow noticed smaller buildings at the base of them, and he realized just how large the pyramids really were.
 
Ichigo cocked his head, noting he had an audience, and looked back. His eyes locked on Grimmjow’s, then shifted to the other two. When he looked away, Grimmjow took that as invitation enough to approach. He wasn’t dumb enough to get close to Kurosaki when he was asleep or deep in thought. He’d never been able to sneak up on him, but it was a toss up if he’d be attacked or not.
 
He crossed the distance with sonido, asking, “What is all this?” He heard Harribel follow, but Ulquiorra kept his distance.
 
Kurosaki answered, distracted. “This is what Hueco Mundo use to look like.”
 
Harribel asked, “How did you do this?”

Grimmjow could warrant a pretty reasonable guess;

Alteza

. Kurosaki glanced at Grimmjow, sharing a knowing look, and answered, “The desert is mine.” He gestured casually and the dunes shifted in response. He looked down his hand curiously, flexing his fingers. “I’m not very imaginative, I just copied what I’d seen before.”
 
Harribel repeated. “But

how

is this possible?”
 
Kurosaki looked up in thought, then gave her a half answer. “The Hogyoku.”
 
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either. Grimmjow had to agree that letting all of the Espada know he was subject to the whims of another was a bad idea. It was a little frightening to know Kurosaki seemed to be able to control the very desert.
 
Kurosaki turned and called. “Don’t go anywhere, Ulquiorra.”
 
Grimmjow caught on quickly enough, grinding his teeth together. He looked up at the primera Espada as he was turning back to face them. Kurosaki continued, “I want you to spar with Grimmjow.”
 
He could complain, but after giving it some thought, he was eager to best the other Espada. He hated how he looked down on him, like he was beneath him and his precious time. He reached for Pantera. “You heard ‘im, asshole!”
 
Ichigo monotoned, “Play nice.”
 
Ulquiorra didn’t bother reaching for his sword, and it pissed him right the fuck off. He drew Pantera, crossing the mile between them in a burst of sonido. Ulquiorra stepped to the side, dodging his downward slash with little effort. “You can’t win, I don’t see why you would attack me with such vigor.”
 
Grimmjow spun, slashing at his gut, but Ulquiorra danced out of reach. He snarled, “I’ll beat you, you fuck. If not right now, then tomorrow, and if not then, the day after. I

will

beat you!” He kept slashing at him, but he still wouldn’t draw his sword.
 
Harribel moved to stand by Ichigo to watch, arms crossed. He got the impression they were speaking, but his attention was drawn back to the fight at hand and they were forgotten.
 
Ulquiorra still refused to draw his sword, insisting on dodging his attacks. Grimmjow got too annoyed by the lack of reaction and lifted Pantera, his fingers curling into a claw along the blade. He slashed them downwards and snarled, “Grind, Pantera!” His reiatsu spiked, exploding around him in a halo of blue. He bared his teeth in a savage snarl when Ulquiorra finally drew his sword, the sound pressure from his roar cracking the outer walls of Las Noches.
 
He lurched for him, slashing and kicking, but the other Espada dodged and blocked his claws with apparent ease. He wasn’t as fast as Kurosaki, even if he couldn’t keep track of all his movements. His sonido didn’t even compare to that orange-haired monster.
 
He raised a clawed hand, spinning in midair to follow Ulquiorra’s evasive sidestep, loosing a cero in his face. Ulquiorra seemed surprised he’d predicted his movement at all, eyes widening. Ulquiorra destroyed his cero with his reiatsu, batting his attack aside. The battered cero destroyed a good portion of the outer wall of Las Noches, debris falling around them. Grimmjow couldn’t even muster frustration over that failure, he was pleased he’d caught the fucker off guard at all.
 
Ulquiorra put distance between them and murmured his release phrase. “Enclose, Murciélago.” Green reiatsu rained down around him, the oppressive, tangible pressure of his power making him tense in instinctual fear.
 
Grimmjow hesitated, eyes narrowing. He beat back his fear with force of will. It wasn’t the knowledge that this wasn’t a serious battle that pushed him through it, but his own stubborn pride. How dare he make him feel fear at all? Nihilistic fucker.
 
Grimmjow had seen this form before, but he’d never seen Ulquiorra fight. When he summoned a javelin of bright green reishi in his hand, he didn’t know what to expect. He braced himself when Ulquiorra moved, barely managing to dodge a slash of his weapon. It cut straight through his hierro, biting through the armor of his upper arm to flesh. He lifted his arm, firing five Garra de la Pantera at him before the other Espada could complete another attack.
 
Ulquiorra spun the javelin like a baton, knocking aside his projectiles with relative ease. They deflected, impaling the sand, the craters they left behind a testament to the power behind them. The gap between them made Grimmjow grind his teeth in anger.
 
The primera Espada spoke softly, the faintest hint of bored disgust fringing his voice. “White sees something in you that I do not. You are weak, Grimmjow.”
 
Grimmjow flexed his claws, leaning heavily into his speed. “

Fucker

.” He slashed at him, only to have his attacks blocked by a wing. He was matching his speed, but the primera had far more power, and he seemed to only be holding back because Kurosaki was right there watching them.
 
If Ulquiorra wasn’t holding back, Grimmjow knew he’d be dead. He wasn’t sure what angered him more, his own weakness, or that Ulquiorra didn’t need to

try

to defeat him.
 
He used Desgarrón, blades of electric blue reishi stretching from his claw tips. He moved, slashing with both his arms at the primera. Ulquiorra raised the javelin and swung, shattering his reishi claws. Ulquiorra’s insult was monotone. “Your technique is sloppy, and easily broken.” He turned the javelin in his hand and threw it at him, far faster than he could dodge. He raised his hand and fired a cero, negating the attack the best he could.
 
Their power clashed, and Ulquiorra’s was far superior. Grimmjow was thrown back into the dome, cratering the reishi stone and winding him. He gasped, feeling the heat of his own blood pooling on his chest and front. He eyes widened when Ulquiorra appeared above him, another javelin in hand. The point of the weapon rested just above his heart. “To struggle in vain against someone so vastly superior to you is strange. One might even call it human.”
 
The javelin rested just beneath the hollow of his throat, and Grimmjow stopped breathing. The crackling reiatsu touched his skin, slicing through his hierro like wet paper. Ulquiorra was stopped short by Kurosaki’s hand on the javelin of power. The green reiatsu reacted aggressively, but if Kurosaki noticed, it didn’t show in his voice. He warned. “That will be all.”
 
Ulquiorra looked at Kurosaki, then blinked, conceding. His fingers uncurled from the javelin, his power dissipating into nothing around him. The primera let his resureccion fall away, sheathing his weapon. “Do you require anything else?”
 
Grimmjow growled up at Kurosaki, but he was still trying to get his body to move. “Who said you could interfere?”
 
Kurosaki stood over him like he wasn’t there, which both irritated Grimmjow and gave him some sense of relief that he wasn’t the focus of his attention when he was so thoroughly beaten.
 
Kurosaki answered Ulquiorra. “There is something, actually.”
 
He raised his arm, pointing into the distance. “I can feel everything, but I don’t know what it is I’m sensing over there. It feels strange, like a void, or a limb that’s gone numb. I have a feeling it will look different, but I really can’t tell you what to look for.” Grimmjow remembered that Ulquiorra had the ability to share his experiences, and he had no doubt that was why Kurosaki was sending him and not anyone else.
 
Ulquiorra asked, “How far is it?”
 
Kurosaki looked up in thought, then out at the desert, his eyes glazing over. “If you don’t stop or slow, about...three weeks. Use a garganta to get close, but I imagine it will still take time to find.”
 
Ulquiorra dipped his head in a nod and turned, opening a garganta. He paused to see if he was dismissed, and Kurosaki turned away, returning his focus to Grimmjow. The primera took the hint and left, leaving the pair alone again.
 
Grimmjow noticed that at one point Harribel had left, so at least he wasn't lying there defenseless with an audience. Kurosaki crouched, resting his arms on his knees and asked, “Learn anything?”
 
Grimmjow struggled to sit up. “Fuck you.”
 
Kurosaki said, “I'm being serious.”
 
“So am I.”
 
Kurosaki looked like he was struggling not to roll his eyes. He said, “Surely you've noticed the flaws with Desgarrón by now?”
 
Grimmjow let his resurreccion go, picking up his sword. His attack was broad and easily shattered;

he knew that

. Unless he was fighting someone both slow and weaker, it wasn't going to hold up. “What of it?”
 
“Your bread and butter is close combat, so why rely on a ranged skill? Make it smaller and it’ll be stronger and more manageable.”
 
Grimmjow growled under his breath. “I don't need your advice.” What he suggested was easier said than done, but he wasn't going to whine about not being able to do it.
 
Kurosaki’s was incredulous. “Sure you don't, now get up.” He gave the Espada a light slap on the back of the head, but when Grimmjow swiped back, Kurosaki caught his wrist without looking, his eyes on the horizon.
 
Grimmjow pulled his arm free and got to his feet, annoyed, but not so annoyed he couldn't see how distracted Kurosaki was. He sheathed his sword as Kurosaki stood. Now that they were alone, he was curious. “So why can you move the sand?”
 
Kurosaki answered, “It's not sand, it's bone. This wasn't always a desert.” He looked out at the temples, brows drawn in a thoughtful scowl. “I think this sand is made of the bones of Alteza.”
 
Grimmjow looked out over the desert with a frown. “That’s pretty disgusting.”
 
Kurosaki rolled his eyes. “Well I can move it because it’s a part of Alteza. Put me in a real desert and I wouldn’t be able to do shit.”
 
Grimmjow stared at him, then shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
 
“You know how you use your blood as a catalyst for a gran rey cero? I think I'm a catalyst for Alteza. It can act on its own, we both saw that, but it's far from subtle, and I think something is holding it back. It wants to act, but it won’t, or it can’t.”
 
Grimmjow wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this information, but if something happened to Kurosaki, it did make sense that at least one of them would know what was going on. He asked, “

Something

is holding it back? What makes you say that?”
 
Kurosaki said, “It's like I told Ulquiorra before I sent him off; it feels like a limb that's lost circulation. Whatever power I have doesn't extend there. There’s something off about that place, it feels different. The darkness is cold, and this...isn't. Something caused that.”
 
Grimmjow asked, “So why don't you go see for yourself?”
 
Anger flashed across the visored’s face. “

I can't

. It won't let me.”
 
Grimmjow knew control was a touchy subject, so he changed it before he ended up on the receiving end of his fury. “So what does it want?”
 
“It keeps rattling on about balance...but I don’t know what it wants. For now, it’s quiet.
 
Grimmjow said, “Ya said it feels like it’s cold, so what’s this place feel like?”
 
Kurosaki shrugged, “I can’t touch it, I really don’t know, but it repels everything Alteza is, and me, by extension.”
 
Grimmjow bared his teeth, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That’s inconvenient.”
 
Kurosaki made a disgusted sound. “Everything about this is inconvenient.”
 
He looked Grimmjow up and down, studying him intently enough that Grimmjow felt a bit annoyed. “What?”
 
Kurosaki said, “I think Alteza has something to do with hollows. I don't know how to explain it. It's just a feeling.”
 
Grimmjow said, “That's a weird fucking feeling to have.”
 
“I can feel the darkness in you, in all the hollows. Only if I look for it.” Ichigo glanced at him. “I can't control that kind of darkness, if that crossed your mind. I can just tell that it's there.”
 
Grimmjow hadn’t thought of that, but now that he’d told him, he really did feel better about it. Then he thought he might understand why Kurosaki was so angry. The relief alone from knowing he wasn’t in threat of that was enough to know he’d be just as angry. He said, “I guess that's reassuring...Y’know, Barragan called himself king. Lots of hollows have called themselves king, and ain't any of them tangled with this thing. Why you?”
 
Kurosaki shrugged, “Aizen got close. It was after someone strong. I think I just barely passed the bar.”
 
Grimmjow scoffed. “You're anything but weak, ya’ bastard.”
 
Kurosaki flexed his fingers, tightening his hand into a fist. “And yet Alteza so much as touched my soul and I was in agony. I think I came pretty close to being dead for good.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed. “You don't seem happy about survivin’.”
 
His claws dug into his palm, blood welling. He said, “I think I'm still in pain, I'm just dead to it. I don't think that's a good thing.”
 
Grimmjow asked, “If you're numb to it, how would you know?”
 
Kurosaki’s hand snapped out and grabbed Grimmjow’s arm, fingers digging into the wound Ulquiorra had left. Grimmjow snarled, lashing out on instinct. Kurosaki caught his backhand, then let him go. Grimmjow snapped, “What the fuck?!”
 
Kurosaki lifted his left arm, digging his own claws into his forearm. He raked his claws downward, cutting himself open. Grimmjow’s eyes widened, confused. Kurosaki didn’t react at all, and the wound was deep enough the blood poured down his arm and dripped to the sand. He said, “Pain is a visceral thing, everything expects it, reacts to it...and I can’t feel it anymore.” His tone shifted from frustration to anger.
 
Grimmjow watched as the wound healed, not having realized he had high speed regeneration. Whenever he thought Kurosaki couldn’t get more dangerous, he proved him wrong. He asked, “What’s so bad about not feeling pain?”
 
Kurosaki’s tone started angry, and turned into something he thought might be self-loathing. “You just proved my point. I hurt you, and you reacted without thought, you reacted on

instinct

. Now I’m lacking that, and I’m all the weaker for it.”
 
Grimmjow took a step back, brows furrowed. He never thought he’d appreciate being in pain, but Kurosaki made a solid point. When it came to instinct, he never thought about why, he just acted. “What are you gonna do about it?”
 
Kurosaki scoffed. “The same thing you’d do for any handicap; Overcompensate.” He waved it off. “You can keep going, can’t you?”
 
“Stupid question, Kurosaki.”
 
Kurosaki started to circle him, and Grimmjow lifted his fists, hunching forward like a boxer. He felt the distinct shiver of fear from being singled out by a predator.
 
Kurosaki drawled, “Thought I told you not to call me that.”
 
“Whatever, ain’t anyone-” He dodged a sudden punch towards his gut, lashing out in with a right hook. Kurosaki was still far faster, but the bastard was right, this was what he was good at. Kurosaki had a weird fuckin’ style, much like his own, but this was an area they were more evenly matched in. He felt the pull from the attacks he’d suffered from Ulquiorra, but they looked worse than they were.
 
Kurosaki was still too fucking fast to have to try, even distracted, but it almost made the fight fair. He wasn't sure why the hybrid bothered to keep fighting him when the gap between them was so great, but despite how annoying he was, he couldn't help but find his mouth stretched into a feral smile every time they fought.
 
One day he'd make him bleed with his own strength and skill. One day he'd make Kurosaki see him as an equal.

--- xxx ---
  
Teocalli: House of the Gods
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Dondochakka Birstanne - Pesche Guatiche - Bawabawa

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.” - Arthur Miller

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

About 4 months later...

Ichigo raised Tensa Zangetsu, stopping the inverted twin of his blade short. Even if Zangetsu managed to hit him, it wouldn't hurt him, but he tried to keep his reactions sharp like it would. He tilted the blade, letting Zangetsu’s momentum and force grind the blades together, slipping until they were forced apart to repeat the dance. Their clashes happened in less than an instant, a speed that was more than normal to them, but too fast to track for their onlookers.
 
Zangetsu and Ossan were one when he was in bankai. They looked far more like Ossan in this form, but younger. Short, white hair whipped around his face, black horns stretching forward without mask fragments. He was a pale reflection of his hollow form, and every bit as fast and strong as Ichigo was, if not more so.
 
Zangetsu got inside his guard, reaching for his throat with his free hand. Ichigo sidestepped and grabbed his arm, throwing him over his shoulder. Zangetsu recovered in midair, catching himself with reishi before he threw himself back at Ichigo.
 
They continued in that vein, both with the mutual understanding not to lean on any Getsuga’s or cero’s. Both were too destructive to use so close to Las Noches, he didn't want to kill anyone on accident.
 
His routine had become fairly consistent. He would train Grimmjow, ‘meditate’ with Starrk (or catnap, depending on his mood), speak with Harribel or the other Espada, explore Hueco Mundo, then train on his own.
 
Training consisted of fighting his inner spirits, and to keep his reflexes and focus sharp, he fought them manifested. No one else stood a chance against him when he tried, which wasn't their fault, they were trying their best, but he couldn't afford to get rusty simply because he had no challenge to face.
 
Ichigo’s mind began to wander, thinking back to what Ulquiorra had shown him. A patch of desert scorched to glass. From a distance it looked like some great lake, but once Ulquiorra had gotten closer to it, the ripples were stagnant, the surface smooth and unyielding. The desert either wouldn't or couldn't encroach on it, it seemed untouchable, and it carried with it the stillness of death.
 
Zangetsu’s blade cut harmlessly through his shoulder. “Focus!”
 
He grit his teeth, parrying and dodging Zangetsu’s renewed assault. He knew his sword could feel his unease and curiosity, it had only grown since he'd seen it. Through Ulquiorra's eyes, but he’d seen it nonetheless.
 
He thought his curiosity was only growing because it was someplace Alteza wouldn’t allow him to go, and his fascination with something he didn’t understand persisted like a bad toothache. He so much as considered going to see for himself and Alteza clamped down on his soul like a Rottweiler. As if it wasn't irritating enough that the only pain he could feel was the pain Alteza allowed.
 
Zangetsu got behind him, taking advantage of his distraction, and his sword grazed Ichigo’s cheek. He was getting hit more frequently, not less, as the time carried on, and it was Zangetsu that ended it.
 
Zangetsu jumped back, stabbing the sword in the sand. “Don't waste my time, call on me once your mind has settled.”
 
Ichigo heaved a sigh, hefting his sword up on his shoulder. “I’m not…” He trailed off at the look of annoyance on Zangetsu’s face. His inner spirits vanished back into his inner world, and he dropped out of bankai, replacing his swords.

Don't be so put out, it's not like we don't spar every day.

“I know you're distracted, Ichigo, you don't like leaving things unfinished, resolve this soon. Speak with Alteza if you must.”

“

Don't go crawling back to that fucker!”

Noted, Zangetsu. Don't tell me it doesn't bother you that there's something out there even Alteza wants nothing to do with.

“No it doesn't. We’ll crush it to dust if it gets in the way, just like everything else!”

I'm not in the market to be overconfident.

Their little talk ended at that, leaving Ichigo wondering if Alteza would even answer him if he tried asking. So far he'd gotten nothing but nonverbal responses. If he opened a garganta with the intent to go look, he was shut down immediately.
 
It left him with the idea that going might be bad for his health, and not simply because Alteza was stopping him. He was his oh so precious host, if going to that place might threaten his life, it made sense that Alteza would want to avoid it.
 
In a single step of sonido, he was back at the wall of Las Noches, and directly in front of his spectators.
 
They both shrieked, startled, and he suppressed a smirk of triumph. He greeted, “Menoly...

Loly.

”
 
Loly tried not to fidget under the extra attention, snapping. “What do you want?”
 
He raised a brow. “I was going to ask you the same thing. You’ve been watching me for almost an hour.”

“The old man was right, you really

weren’t

paying attention.”

Ichigo chose to ignore that jab; it wasn’t like he could ignore his surroundings, and he knew they both didn't expect him to.
 
Loly shifted uncomfortably as Menoly took a step behind her. Loly accused. “

You killed him

, I want to know who it is that's replacing him.” She spat the words like saying them at all was a personal insult.
 
“

Don't let the bitch talk to ya like that.”

Ichigo both agreed and disagreed with his hollow.

She's harmless.

He took a leisurely step forward, and he had to admit he was impressed that she held her ground. He said, “Watching me from over a mile away isn't going to do that.”
 
Her expression flitted between fear and hatred. She said, “I don't believe you killed him. You're nothing but an usurper.”
 
He spoke slowly, and with threat. “Nothing but? Like me or not, Loly, I'm king.” He honestly wasn't sure what it was about Aizen and making girls loyal to him in his spare time, but these two didn't have the sympathies he'd had for Hinamori. “I've been more than accommodating of your feelings.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes slid to Menoly. “Go.” She didn't need to be ordered twice. She backpedalled, too afraid to turn her back, then spun and ran. She was loyal to Loly, but not enough to disobey.
 
Ichigo turned his eyes back to Loly, who hadn't moved at all, though he was close enough that he could smell her fear. On top of that, he felt it in the flicker of darkness in her soul. That was a ‘perk’ he could have done without.
 
He took another step closer, now we'll within arms reach, and to her credit, her trembles were only barely noticeable. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”
 
Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lip, defensive. “I’m not scared.”
 
Sure, if that made her feel better. She was only a numeros, he didn't interact with those arrancar much at all, but maybe he needed to fix that. He wasn't social on his best day, but cutting himself off from the others was foolish in the long run.
 
Considering that, he continued, “I’m not asking you to like me, but I do expect you to

follow orders

. Can you do that?” No answer. Well if she couldn’t, he would know soon enough, and he would handle it. He couldn't afford to have arrancar rebelling against orders.
 
He said, “I want you to go find an adjuchas and recruit them.

Without

holding their life as an ultimatum.” He could hand this task off to anyone, but he was giving it to her as a test.
 
Her eyes widened, confused. “W-why?”
 
She hated him, yet he was sending her out into the desert to convince an inherently solitary creature to put their life in the hands of a more powerful hollow. He was curious about what Loly would do when confronted with a situation she vehemently opposed.
 
He leaned a little closer and said, “Because I’m ordering you to.” She swallowed, her eyes flicking away.
 
Satisfied she wasn’t going to complain, he leaned back and gave her a bit more to work with. “You can promise power, and protection from regression.” He was fairly confident he could do something about a hollow’s evolution, especially with the vision he’d seen of the past.
 
He asked, “Can I trust you with that?”
 
She flushed in anger, or maybe that was humiliation. She hissed, “As if I can’t best an

adjuchas

.”
 
“I’m not asking you to defeat them, merely convince them. If they refuse, what you do with them isn’t my concern.” He could see the thoughts crossing her face, and he wondered if she would even come back at all. Clearly she had no loyalty towards him, only resentment.
 
He repeated himself. “Can I trust you to do this?” She scowled at him and he resisted the urge to sigh. Anything blatantly dismissive would only garner more resentment, and that wasn’t what he was digging for. “Yes or no, Loly.”
 
She grit her teeth, warring with her pride. “...Yes.” He was surprised when she followed it up with a question. “How long do I have?”
 
“As long as it takes.” He started past her and he didn’t look back. “Happy hunting.”
 
He left her to grapple with her decision on her own time and turned his thoughts inward.

Do you think returning to Karakura so soon would stir up the waters?

“

You intend to bring your friend to Hueco Mundo?”

I promised.

“Soul Society can do little to stop you, but if you wish to maintain some semblance of good will, proceeding with  caution is wise.”

Ichigo knew ossan wouldn’t take sides, but hearing his options laid out for him was always nice,

“

Fuck em’, king, do what you want. We could kill the old man if we really wanted to.”

Killing Yamamoto was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn’t say he liked him, but he was necessary.

What did I say about arrogance?

“Che. If you weren't so distracted the last time, he never would have touched you.”

He decided Zangetsu wasn’t entirely wrong, he didn’t really care how Soul Society reacted to what he wanted to do, he was going to do it anyways.

It would be stupid to take him lightly. I might have raw strength, but he has centuries of experience.

He shrugged dismissively.

That's beside the point, and I have some questions that have been keeping me up at night.

They knew his insomnia had been getting worse, not better, but now he didn’t have as many physical limiters to stop him from staying awake. Alteza’s power seemed to either mask the exhaustion or help keep it at bay.
 
He opened a garganta somewhere outside Karakura, wondering how far their sensors ranged. He lingered for awhile in the desert, and when nothing happened, he stepped into sonido. He had no idea what day it was, in Hueco Mundo it didn’t matter in the slightest, but he knew it was just after sunset, so at least he wouldn’t be interrupting his friend’s day. No shinigami either noticed his presence, or bothered to do anything about it. He highly doubted it was the latter.
 
He had somewhere he wanted to go before he went to see Chad. He headed for the hospital, remembering to drop his transformation before he got there. He wasn’t going to intimidate or fight, he just wanted to talk.
 
He approached the building, lit windows glowing against a deepening indigo sky. He scanned the outer windows for Ryūken. He’d been here a couple of times, but never for a pleasant reason. This wasn’t necessarily pleasant, but he wasn’t very fond of keeping his friends out of the loop.
 
Ichigo stepped forward, crossing the space to the window in a single step. He rapped on the window, and to Ryūken’s credit, he didn’t flinch. He spun around in his chair, fixing him with a look of annoyance and mild disinterest. He couldn’t tell if it was acting, or if Ishida’s father really wanted nothing to do with him. Either way, he was the only Quincy left alive besides Ishida, and Ishida couldn’t answer his questions.
 
Ryūken stood, sliding the window open. “

Kurosaki

. Why is it always a Kurosaki?” He took a step to the side and Ichigo took it as an invitation.
 
Ichigo stepped in through the window, and Ryūken started for the door. Ichigo asked, “Where are you going?”
 
“To smoke.”
 
That was all the conversation it seemed he was going to get. Ichigo followed him up the stairwell to the roof in silence, and truth be told, he felt much more comfortable outside. He didn’t like being indoors, and that feeling had only intensified after he’d come back in time. Now that he was back out in the cooling night air, he felt more at ease.
 
Ichigo’s attention was drawn back to Ryūken at the click of a lighter. Ryūken protected the flame from the breeze, his face illuminated orange. The lighter flipped shut, and he pocketed the lighter, looking out at the city through the chainlink fence.
 
Ryūken completely disregarded Ichigo, so Ichigo stepped forward to stand beside him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ryūken beat him to it. The breeze carried away the smoke when he exhaled, the quincy commenting. “I thought you’d be older.”
 
Ichigo scoffed. “I died when I was 22, what can I say?” His mind stuttered over a memory; he could feel his breath warm on his hand, his fingers digging into his own face. He sucked in a breath, almost to reassure himself that he could. He pushed the memory away. “I didn’t come here to socialize, how much did your son tell you?”
 
Ryūken let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. “We don’t talk.” He took another drag and looked over at him. “Are you here as Kurosaki, or the king of Hueco Mundo?”
 
“You know about that?”
 
He exhaled. “Not much escapes my notice.”
 
Ichigo answered, “Both. I take it you know what I am?” Ryūken gave him a look. Clearly Ryūken knew about Masaki, but he wasn’t sure how much he knew about his shinigami and hollow side. It seemed like he knew enough.
 
Ichigo didn’t necessarily trust Ryūken, but he knew he and his father were ‘friends’, and the quincy was a fairly neutral party. “I’m not familiar with my quincy side, or gathering reishi, and you’re a doctor.”
 
“So is your father.”
 
“He’s not a quincy.” Ryūken looked at him, and he continued, “All I have is a theory, but I need something more solid.”
 
Ryūken looked genuinely intrigued. “Why?”
 
That answer came easily to Ichigo. “I don’t want to drop dead. If I do, I’d at least like to know why.” There was a good chance that what Alteza had done to him wasn’t sustainable. He wasn’t exactly human anymore, but he was no God.
 
Now he had Ryūken’s attention, but he could see the man struggling to hide it. Ryūken asked, “Will you come down to the lab?”
 
Ichigo tensed. He could recall the feel of cold, unrelenting metal holding him down, the chill of sekki sekki stone against his back. His heart started to race, but he covered up the rush of fear with a cold question. “Is that necessary?”
 
‘If you want a thorough answer.” The quincy seemed to remember his cigarette, knocking the ashes and taking another deep drag.
 
Ichigo lifted his hand, gathering darkness in his hand. He asked, “Is this even reishi?”
 
Ryūken looked surprised, watching the coiling darkness in naked interest. The quincy raised his hand towards it, his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t trying to touch it, knew he was reaching for the reishi in the air. He dropped his hand, putting his hand in his pocket. “I don’t sense anything. If it is reishi, I can’t affect it.”
 
Ichigo let the darkness go with a sigh. It was worth a try. “Is the lab the only option?”

“King, you can’t be serious.”

How else am I supposed to know what’s wrong with me?

“Who says there’s somethin’ wrong?”

You can’t be serious. This isn’t normal, I don’t like being ignorant. While we’re here, we might as well try to get answers.

Zangetsu had nothing else to add, he knew he was only protesting because a lab was the last place he wanted to be.
 
Ryūken dropped his cigarette, crushing it under his shoe. He said, “If you want an answer, then yes.” He paused, then asked, “Why come to me, and not that shinigami shopkeeper?”
 
Ichigo fought back a sigh. “He’s not familiar with quincy, and he’ll talk to my father.”
 
That earned Ichigo an intense look, one he pretended he didn’t notice.
 
Ryūken started inside and said, “If you come with me, we can stop wasting time.”
 
Ryūken didn’t wait around, and once the rooftop door slammed shut, Ichigo decided to follow after him. Even once he was out of sight, tracking him was easy, his reiatsu was so similar to Ishida’s. He ended up in a room full of medical equipment, various pieces of technology crowded around the room and built into the ceiling and wall His heart beat faster, but he forced down his immediate reaction to flee with determination.
 
Ryūken went over to a computer and spoke absently. “Have a seat. Lose the Zanpakuto.”
 
There was a flat patient table in the center of the room, one that put a bad taste in his mouth. He hesitated, then removed Zangetsu from his hip and back. He leaned his swords against the side of the table and took a seat, much to Zangetsu’s protest. Pride alone kept him relatively calm, at least to any observer. He’d gotten quite good at hiding his emotions.
 
He wasn’t thrilled about being unarmed, but logically he knew that he could overpower Ryūken with ease. Somehow this didn’t squash his fear. He listened to Ryūken type for a few moments, then the quincy came over and stood before him, and he had the sense he was looking through him, at his reiryoku. Ryūken asked, “Tell me what you can, even if it seems irrelevant.”
 
Ichigo thought about censoring his answers, but out of everyone he could possibly tell, Ryūken might possibly be one of the safest. He didn’t understand his motivations, but the man clearly had no interest in being his enemy.
 
Ichigo schooled his answer, distancing himself. He said, “I fuzed with the Hogyoku when I was pulled into this time; it was a long, painful process, and I think to complete itself, it needed me in a specific location in Hueco Mundo.” He decided the Hogyoku was a term Ryūken would know best, and from the recognition on his face, he was right.
 
“It resorted to possession to get me there. I was overwhelmed by that darkness I showed you, I was unconscious for three days, and when I woke up, my Saketsu was severed, and I couldn’t feel pain. Not unless the Hogyoku wanted me to.”
 
Ryūken was quiet for a moment, then questioned, “You can’t feel pain? What about other sensations?”
 
“When I hollowfy, my sense of touch is dulled, that’s normal, but this feeling persists even as I am now. I can feel pressure, heat, cold, but nothing resembling pain.”
 
Ryūken’s eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “You’re telling me if you leaned on a hot stove, you wouldn't notice?”
 
Ichigo answered, “Probably not.”
 
Ryūken went over to a set of cabinets on the far side of the room, opening and closing it. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves, putting them on, then a butterfly needle. He took it from the packaging and held out his hand to Ichigo palm up. “Give me your arm.”
 
Ichigo sighed, realizing Ryūken either didn’t believe him, or wanted to test it for himself. He put his arm out, and Ryūken took his wrist in his hand. He stabbed him in the palm with the needle, watching for a reaction. Ichigo felt nothing. He tried again beneath a nail. Then again in the sensitive flesh on the underside of his wrist. Ichigo didn’t even flinch, which they both knew wouldn’t happen if he could feel pain.
 
Ryūken asked, “How long has this been going on?”
 
Ichigo looked down, but couldn’t be certain. “Uhhh...I’m not sure how long it’s been...Since I died.”
 
Ryūken nodded, letting his arm go. “About four months then.” He asked. “Did you feel anything at all?”
 
Ichigo gave a stiff shake of his head. “A bit of pressure, but no pain.”
 
The quincy nodded again, thoughtful. He readjusted his glasses in a way that reminded Ichigo of Ishida, then jerked his head toward the table. “Lie down.”
 
Ichigo felt fear grip his chest, followed by shame. Even when he wasn’t hollowfied, he refused to lay down on his back, it felt too much like submitting, he felt too vulnerable. “No.”
 
Ryūken watched him intently, then said, “Do you want my help or not, visored?”
 
Ichigo gripped the edge of the table he sat on, but there was a flicker of anger coiled inside his trepidation. He’d called him a visored like it was a grievous insult. He decided to be a bit more honest. “It would be awfully awkward if I killed you on accident.”
 
This seemed to grip Ryūken’s attention as much as his initial question. The quincy asked, “Are all visored’s so unstable?”
 
Ichigo frowned, leaning forward on his knees. “Doesn’t have anything to do with being a visored.” He didn’t want him to dig, so he humored him and laid back. His instincts writhed, but he stayed still, giving Ryūken a pointed look to continue.
 
The quincy stepped closer, raising his hand over his heart. “Well, you have indeed lost your Saketsu.” His brow furrowed, and his hand made contact with his chest. Ichigo’s hand snapped to his wrist, and Ryūken gave him a hard look. “Let go.”
 
Ichigo started to breath faster, aware Ryūken could feel the pounding of his heart. He was grateful that the man made no comment on it. Calm down. Calm. Calm.
 
Ichigo let go, and Ryūken’s eyes unfocused. He could feel the quincy taking his reiryoku from him in so small a dose he almost didn’t notice it. He sifted through it, and Ichigo felt Alteza stir inside him. Before he could warn him, Ryūken jerked his hand back, and though he hid it well, Ichigo saw pain in his eyes.
 
Ryūken said, “Your reiryoku is inexorably tied to your hollow power, and something...darker. It doesn’t mix well with quincy power. I imagine this balance between your hollow and quincy power was disrupted by this Hogyoku, or perhaps your quincy blood is keeping it in check?”
 
Ichigo had similar theories, but they were just guesses in the end. “What makes you say that?”
 
“I can’t sense your reiatsu, but when I touch you, I can feel the well of your reiryoku, and the power that makes you a Quincy. Are you aware how much power you're expending?”
 
“My reiatsu?”
 
“No. Your power, your blood, is in a frenzy. Fighting your other half, I imagine. Normally, this should be quite painful. It's not quite the equivalent of soul suicide, it’s more like a persistent illness. You're right to be concerned.”
 
Ichigo sat up, extending his senses inwards, but could feel nothing. It wasn’t anything he was consciously doing.

Were you aware of this, ossan?

“I was not. We are as numb as you are, Ichigo.”

Ryūken said, “It seems your control over your own ability is pitiful. Did you never learn?”
 
Ichigo swung his legs back over the side, a bit of a bite in his tone. “

Gemischt

.”
 
“At least you understand. My son should be competent enough to at least help you control the reishi in your own body. Your body’s natural response might very well be the only thing keeping you alive; Tread carefully should you try.” He regarded him for a moment, then asked, “Are you sleeping?”
 
Ichigo couldn’t help the flicker of annoyance that crossed his face. “Everyone asks that.” Ryūken put his hands in his coat pockets, waiting for an answer. “A bit.”
 
“I’m no psychiatrist, but you have a long list of symptoms for a stress disorder. That’s a lot of fractures for someone so powerful, forgive me for my concern.”
 
His tone was dripping with near mockery, something that had Ichigo’s jaw tightening. He stood and said, “If that’s it, I’m leaving.”
 
“I can’t imagine sleeping in an area surrounded by arrancar is relaxing.”
 
Ichigo asked, “Is there a point to this?”
 
“Yes. It seems to me the situation is forcing you to allow yourself less and less sleep.Your body needs more sleep, not less. It doesn’t matter how you do it, you need more sleep. You’re putting undue stress on your body. Until you can learn to control reishi,

if

you can, don’t overdue it.”
 
Ichigo protested. “You aren’t my doctor.”
 
He raised a brow. “Aren’t I? I was under the belief I was your last resort.”
 
There was a confidence in his voice, one Ichigo found grating. No wonder Ishida wasn’t fond of his father. Ichigo said, “Fine.” Knowing what he needed to do and doing it were two entirely different monsters. Why Ryūken gave a shit, he could only guess.
 
He turned to leave, and the quincy didn’t stop him.
 
He pulled on the darkness, inky shadows congealing before him. He stepped into it without hesitation, re-emerging across town. The darkness swirled over his skin, cold, but not unfamiliar, then evaporated beneath the glow of a streetlight. He was outside Chad’s complex, sensing his reiatsu as distinctly as he would his own family. He was second guessing himself.
 
He could leave Chad be, he could live a fairly normal life. He knew Chad liked his work with his band, they were good, people liked them, Chad had a future. But he promised, this is what Chad wanted. Was this really his decision to make?
 
He paced outside, then realized he’d already made his decision. He took the stairs to his apartment and knocked, dread settling in his stomach. If he let him be, he would involve himself anyway, and possibly be killed for it.
 
He was second guessing himself again, but it was too late to act before Chad opened the door. The warm glow from his apartment shone out into the walkway, and Ichigo felt a sharp sense of displacement that tugged at his heart.
 
Chad looked surprised. “Ichigo…”
 
Now he felt foolish, though he couldn’t be sure why. Chad was studying him too intently, he was seeing far more than he intended. Ichigo looked away. “I promised I’d come back.” He lifted his hand to his hair, running his fingers through it. It was getting long, he was hollowfied so often, he hadn’t noticed. “I promised I’d bring you to Hueco Mundo.”
 
Chad still hadn’t said anything, but for once, the silence was a bit uncomfortable. Ichigo shifted, folding his arms, and said, “Sorry if it’s not a good time. It’s hard to keep track of the days.”
 
Chad went back into the apartment, then stepped out, closing and locking the door behind him. Ichigo wasn’t expecting so much trust or dedication. Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “Say something.” That sounded so pathetic out loud, but he couldn’t handle the silence.
 
Chad paused with his back to him, then turned, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. The action was slow, giving him more than ample time to brush it off, but Ichigo stayed still. Chad was still taller than him, he could only feel the weight of his arm, no warmth, nothing.
 
Ichigo’s  breath caught, his eyes flicking down to his hand. No one had touched him in months, not without the intent to harm. It was painful, his heart clenching in his chest, no matter how careful Chad had been.
 
Chad’s voice was soft, even for him. “Nothing’s changed, Ichigo.”
 
Ichigo looked back up at Chad, and saw no judgement there. How he could do that, he still didn’t understand. He’d seen judgement in his father, disappointment in Orihime, his sisters...He swallowed, then turned away, swinging over the railing to land at the ground floor.
 
Chad took the stairs, and when he came up along beside him, Ichigo opened a garganta. He stepped into it, the platform of reishi forming beneath his feet. Chad followed him without hesitation, and a trust Ichigo promised himself he would never betray.
 
Ichigo was surprised when Chad broke the silence. “Are you okay?”
 
“I could be dead...so sure, I’m fine.” He could sense Chad’s eyes burning into him. He glanced at his friend, then ahead, clenching his jaw. “It’s good to see you.” He’d been lonely, that was the long and short of it. Zangetsu was always there, but his inner spirits were still a part of him, it just wasn’t the same.
 
Leaving his family the way he had was painful. He could have gone to see them, but he just didn’t have the courage to do it. He was grateful Chad didn’t ask.
 
Before they reached the end of the garganta, Ichigo stepped into his hollow transformation, and his heartache was suddenly muffled, distant. The pain was his, but it hurt so much less. He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not.
 
He stepped out into the sand, the wind tugging his hair over his shoulders. The cold here was different, the silence more resolute. He both hated this place, and found it was the closest thing to home he could imagine.
 
He’d brought Chad some distance away from Las Noches, not about to bring him within distance of any over curious Espada or arrancar. Overprotective? Maybe, but he didn’t want to introduce more problems than necessary into Chad’s life.
 
He looked over at his friend, who was currently turning in circles, analyzing his surroundings. Chad spoke. “This place…”
 
Ichigo knew he could feel it, Chad’s instincts could never separate themselves from something like this. Chad’s power was a bit different from his, but it was born from the same source. Ishida had been deeply uncomfortable here, but for Chad, it would feel like home.
 
He dropped the full weight of his reiatsu, watching as Chad fell to his knees, catching himself with an arm. Chad looked up, not in fear, never in fear, but in something closer to awe. He knew he was struggling to breath, but this was something he needed to feel.
 
He put his hand on his shoulder, leaning down so they were nearly eye to eye, “You feel it, don’t you?” He could read the look in Chad’s eyes so clearly. It was the realization of what he was, what his power was. “Show me your strength, show me what you can do.”
 
Ichigo stepped back on the sand, giving Chad space. His friend struggled to his feet, a feat Ichigo was immensely proud of him for. He called on his power, and he noted that Brazo Derecha de Gigante’s pattern was more intricate that it had been in Soul Society, it was more like the power of the Chad he’d known.
 
Chad didn’t stop there, he rushed at him, raising his left arm. White liquid rushed over his arm like a hollow mask, Brazo Izquierda del Diablo forming with a red stripe standing out starkly against the white. Ichigo smiled, his chest tightening in anticipation of a fight. He stepped back too quickly for Chad to follow, hunching forward with an excited grin.
 
Chad spread his hand, energy gathering at each fingertip. Ichigo could feel the massive pull of energy, and his pride for his friend swelled. To jump in power so quickly was a feat in and of itself. He braced himself, watched as Chad curled his hand into a fist. Chad threw his whole weight into his punch, aiming right for Ichigo’s face. “La muerte.”
 
Ichigo caught his punch in a clawed hand, Chad’s attack surging over his hierro and into the desert behind him. The landscape exploded under his attack, sand blown away in a wave for over a mile. Ichigo’s smile spread, his reiatsu still pressuring Chad, yet here he stood. He pushed Chad’s fist back, but his friend recovered, feet spreading apart.
 
Chad steadied himself and held his ground, drawing his fist back to throw another punch. Ichigo kept his reiatsu low, pressuring his friend, and lunged forward. He didn’t use sonido, but it was still almost too fast for Chad to block. His arm shifted to his defensive form, the shield blocking his punch. It still sent him sliding back several feet, but he stopped it, and that’s what mattered,
 
Ichigo blurred out of Chad’s sight, directly behind him, his claws resting just between his shoulder blades, right above his heart. “You can’t just be strong, you have to be

fast

.

Again

.”
 
Chad whirled, his fist aimed for the source of his voice. Ichigo found his reaction impressive, but it wasn’t good enough. He’d need to be faster, stronger, more experienced, and he could give that to him.
 
They fought for hours, and despite Ichigo hardly laying a finger on him. Chad could barely stand. He helped him up, then brought him back through the garganta to his home. He followed him inside, making sure he was safe. His friend stripped off his shirt, heading into the bathroom to start the shower. Ichigo asked him. “What’s today?”
 
Chad answered. “Thursday.”
 
Ichigo nodded, then asked, “What day is best for you?”
 
“It doesn’t matter.”
 
Ichigo sighed. “Fine. Then I’ll come back every Thursday. How’s that sound?” Chad just gave him a small smile, but had nothing else to say.
 
Ichigo turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. He smiled at his friend. “I’ll see you soon.” Somehow the promise of knowing when he’d see him made saying goodbye far less painful.
 
He shut the door, then leaned on it, tilting his head back to rest on it. He’d settled matters with Chad, for the moment, but now that left Ishida.
 
He closed his eyes, letting his senses blanket the city. There he was.
 
He pushed off the door and stepped into darkness, appearing just outside Orihime’s house. He pulled his senses in close, leaving them some privacy, no matter what it was they were up to, and waited outside.
 
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there. Time had begun to have no meaning, but eventually Ishida left. He could hear Orihime laughing as she said goodbye, and Ichigo found he was smiling. That was the laugh of someone unburdened by fate, by fear. That was good.
 
He leaned against the wall, waiting for Ishida to step outside the gate. The quincy noticed him immediately, flinching. “Kurosaki!”
 
He pushed from the wall and chided. “Shhhh, don’t want to scare the princess.” He realized he was still hollowfied, it probably wasn’t the most inviting look. He dipped his head in a shallow nod, his horns angling downwards. “I didn’t get to thank you for helping me with Soul Society. Doubtless, your presence helped keep my arrancar alive.”
 
Ishida sounded skeptical. “Is that heartfelt gratitude?”
 
Ichigo noticed how tense the quincy was; every muscle in his body was drawn tight, preparing to fight. Was he really so frightening? Ichigo tilted his head. “It is.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and said, “I spoke with your father.”
 
Ishida’s eyes widened, brows drawing together in distaste. He asked, “About what?”
 
Ichigo summarized. “Health problems. I need to learn how to control reishi. Can you help me do that?” Ishida said nothing, but Ichigo didn’t take offense. He sighed. “Not to pile on pressure, but if I don’t, my condition might only get worse.”
 
“Condition?”
 
Ichigo didn’t like explaining things more than once. He said, “My quincy side is reacting badly to being possessed. I’m running at one hundred percent without being conscious of it. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that’s a bad thing?”
 
Ishida’s tone was far less hostile, but he was still suspicious. “Why are you asking me?”
 
“Your father sure as hell isn’t interested, you’re all I have, Ishida.” Ichigo winced. He hadn’t meant to sound so defeated, but it was true, Ishida was his only option beyond trial and error.
 
The streetlight caught Ishida’s glasses, obscuring his eyes. Ichigo couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and Ishida said nothing, so he looked away and closed his eyes, exhaustion creeping into the edges of his psyche.
 
Ishida asked, “Is it really wise to drop your guard?”
 
“If you were the one that decided to kill me, I’d probably deserve it.” He wasn’t afraid of Ishida, even the Ishida of the past, a person he wasn’t nearly as close to. He wasn’t sure he was that close with anyone in this time.
 
Ishida said, “I wouldn’t even know where to start, it’s not like you’re a good listener.”
 
Ichigo smiled and tilted his head back, opening his eyes. He was pleased that he could see the stars. He’d missed seeing them. “If you’re willing to try to teach me, I’m willing to learn.” He dropped his head, stepping forward and meeting Ishida evenly.
 
Ichigo could smell his fear, which was a bit disappointing. He pretended he didn’t notice, he had no doubt it was because he was uncomfortably close to Orihime’s house. It was coincidence, but he often forgot how frightening he could be.
 
Ishida said, “Your father held a funeral, Orihime went. I’ve never seen her cry so hard…”
 
Ichigo swallowed, looking away. He could hear the blame in Ishida’s voice. Ichigo said, “You know if I could have spared her that, I would have...it’s probably better this way.”
 
He barely finished speaking before Ishida’s hand was gripping his shihakusho. He hissed, “Better?! Karin wasn’t even there, Yuzu didn’t even cry. How is this

better

, Kurosaki?”
 
Ichigo swallowed. He hadn’t wanted to know, but Ishida wasn’t allowing him that escape. He looked back at him, not hiding the pain he felt. Ishida let him go. Ichigo said, “I was unconscious when my connection to by body was broken... there was nothing I could do. But...it’s better this way. It’s a clean break.”
 
Ishida protested. “How can you talk like that, they’re-”
 
Ichigo cut him off, he couldn’t bare to hear it. “

Ishida

. Do you think this is what I wanted? I’m doing my best...will you help me or not?”
 
Ishida grit his teeth, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He readjusted his book bag, looking back at Orihime’s bedroom. Her light flicked off as they stood there in silence, and Ishida let out a stiff breath. “I’ll help you.” ichigo opened his mouth, but Ishida wasn’t done. “On my terms,

where

and

when

I say.”
 
That wasn’t unreasonable, Ichigo had no complaints. “Whatever you want, Ishida.”
 
Ishida narrowed his eyes, looking away again. He said, “Is it really okay for the king of Hueco Mundo to bend to another’s whims?”
 
Ichigo huffed, shifting his weight. “That title doesn’t protect me from doubts, mistakes, mortality…”
 
Ishida said, “Sunday morning, come find me.”
 
Ichigo relaxed some now that he had a real answer. “Thank you, Ishida.”
 
Ishida asked, “What’s your goal, Kurosaki?”
 
“Is it not obvious?” Ishida’s silence was all the answer he needed. “To protect you,

everyone

.” Aizen wasn’t their sole threat, he never had been, and he refused to lose them all. He’d tear himself to pieces before he would let them die.
 
--- xxx ---
  
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Dondochakka Birstanne - Pesche Guatiche - Bawabawa

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kurosaki Ichigo

2 weeks later

Ichigo wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused as Neliel climbed him like a jungle gym. He was supposed to be meditating, but it seemed like today Lilynette and Nel were having another spat, and over something as absurd as pillows.
 
Ichigo didn't open his eyes, even when Nel ended up draped over head head and shouting in his ear. He was fairly certain he'd never let anyone else get away with that. He groused, “Lilynette, stop provoking her, the little masochist likes it when you tease her.”
 
Lilynette sputtered in protest. “But she started it!”
 
“I'm sure she did. And

you

.” He looked up, even if he could barely see her from where she was perched. “Why are you antagonizing her. You have your own stuff, why do you keep taking hers?”
 
“She was ignoring Nel.”
 
Lilynette protested. “How could I ignore you, you're so loud!”
 
Shockingly, Starrk appeared to be napping through their exchange. That or he was so use to it he was a good faker.
 
Ichigo sighed and reached for Nel, picking her up and dangling her before him. She wasn’t dressed in rags any more, he’d seen to that. She’d picked out an oversized coat for herself, so it really wasn’t so different from rags. He asked, “Where did Don and...Phish go?” Their names were strange, he just knew they were essentially Neliel’s guardians. Usually they kept her occupied and out of Starrk’s hair, but they were conspicuously absent.
 
“Dondochakka and Pesche. I don't know, I can't find them, they've been gone for awhile…” she sniffed, “They said they would be back.”
 
That didn’t sound like them to let Nel worry. They were idiots, but they cared about her. Ichigo looked past her to Lilynette. “When was the last time you saw them?”
 
Lilynette rested her hand on her hip and shrugged, all attitude. “I dunno...a day, maybe? They probably just got lost, they're fucking idiots.”
 
Ichigo felt dread settle in his stomach. He stood, setting Nel back on her feet. His attention had been torn between so many different people lately, things were bound to slip between the cracks.

He closed his eyes, seeking out their reiatsu. He didn’t know it as well as Neliel’s, but he still knew it better than a stranger. Las Noches might be huge, but he was growing increasingly familiar with it, and he had a sinking feeling he knew where to look.

Szayel

.
 
His eyes snapped open with a very real growl, “

I'm going to kill him

.”
 
Starrk was wide awake, pulling Lilynette back and behind him. He said nothing to draw attention to them, he only remained quiet, waiting for the danger to pass them by.
 
Ichigo stepped into the shadows, reemerging in Szayel’s lab. He let his reiatsu fall, thick and suffocating. He wanted the scientist to feel all the weight of his rage.
 
He walked down the hall at a leisurely pace, feeling the Espada’s reiatsu struggle against his own like a snared rabbit. He found him on the ground, hand grasping the hilt of his sword. It seemed he was attempting resurreccion in the hopes it might help him breathe.
 
Ichigo noticed Szayel first because he was looking for him, but he couldn’t miss the arrancar strapped down behind him. He recognized the blonde, even if he hadn’t had his reiatsu signature memorized. He was shirtless, the fragments of his mask in broken shards over the right side of his face. Pesche. He was breathing, he was alive, but from the amount of blood pooling on the table, that might not be the case for too much longer.
 
Szayel froze when he noticed Ichigo. Ichigo snarled, “Don't stop on my account, release your sword, Szayel. I'm not going to stop at killing you

once

.”
 
Szayel managed to sit up, drawing his Zanpakutou. “It’s just a broken arrancar!”

“What are you waiting for?! KILL HIM!”

Ichigo clenched his hands into fists, his claws slicing into his palms. Blood dripped from his hands to the floor, his voice soft. “You disobeyed orders.”
 
“Susure, Fornicarás.” Szayel swallowed his sword, releasing it, those disgustingly familiar tentacles covering him. Ichigo curled his lip in disgust, appearing behind the Espada, sword drawn. He kicked him forward and stabbed him in the lower back, pinning him to the ground like a butterfly. Szayel screamed, muscles trembling in pain. The look he gave him was one of pure fear, and it made his heart twist in satisfaction. He leaned in and hissed. “Don’t go anywhere.”
 
He left Zangetsu in his gut, returning to Pesche’s side. He drew his shorter blade, freeing the arrancar from the straps binding him. He asked, “Where’s Dondochakka?”
 
Pesche seemed to be struggling to breathe, let alone speak. His gut was split open, Ichigo wasn’t surprised. He didn’t bleed like a human, no arrancar did, but he could still see the pink glisten of his guts. He felt a shiver of cold fury flood his body. He swallowed, tearing his eyes away; He’d seen worse, hell he’d had worse done to him, but it didn’t make it any easier.
 
He noticed Pesche moving his lips so he leaned in, recognizing Nel’s name. He could guess what he was saying easily enough. Ichigo grimaced. “You’re not going to die.” He was half delirious, but he could probably live for hours like this. He had no doubt Szayel had been counting on it.
 
He questioned him again. “Dondochakka?” Pesche’s composure, or what was left of it, wavered. The arrancar shook his head stiffly.
 
Ichigo wasn’t sure if it was possible to be angrier, but the knowledge that Nel’s friend was gone because of that sadistic fuck was on him. He’d left Szayel with too much freedom. He was responsible for this.
 
He slipped his hands under Pesche’s knees and upper back, gently lifting him from the table. Pesche let out a strangled groan of pain. It split open the gaping wound in his gut, but there was no other way to move him.
 
He stepped into the darkness, deciding to risk it. If the chill of the dark hurt Pesche in any way, it was either masked by the pain he was already in, or he couldn’t voice his concerns. Ichigo stepped out into the med bay, setting the injured arrancar down on an empty table. Those present scrambled into action, no matter how sluggish and fearful. His reiatsu was still clouding all of Las Noches, he was impressed they could convince themselves to move at all.
 
He left before he could speak or explain himself, reappearing before Szayel. The arrancar was trying to free himself,  but to no avail. The Espada’s hand slipped on the edge of the blade, coating the edge in red. No doubt all the reiatsu Zangetsu was exuding kept it firmly in place; the blade was screaming as loudly as Zangetsu himself.
 
Szayel thrashed like a wounded animal when he approached, the tentacles of his wing trying to engulf Ichigo, lashing out in desperation. Ichigo crushed the winglike tentacles with his bare hands, ripping it from his back. Szayel grit his teeth through a scream, and Ichigo tossed the mass of tentacles aside. Even torn from Szayel, they twitched in death throes, blood splattering the ground.
 
Ichigo pulled Zangetsu free from his gut, the Espada choking on a whimper. He sheathed it on his back, then grabbed him by the scruff. The room smelled like blood and death. He hated it.
 
He stepped into the darkness, reemerging beneath the dark sky of Hueco Mundo. He just wanted to be out of that lab, being there made his stomach flip in disgust. He was still within sight of Las Noches, but even at this distance, he knew the other arrancar would be able to feel his rage. This wouldn’t be private, he had an audience, even if he couldn’t see them.
 
He dropped the Espada, and watched his pathetic attempt to crawl away. Szayel held a hand to the wound in his lower back, blood soaking his hand and shirt. Szayel begged. “Heika, it was just a broken arrancar, it had no worth!”
 
Ichigo walked beside him, humoring his attempt to flee for a few feet, then kicked him onto his back. “You knew arrancar were off limits, yet you killed one anyway.”
 
Szayel was still struggling to breathe and think up a better defense. While he was in so much pain and fear, Ichigo imagined that was going to be difficult. He bent down to grab his arm, lifting him from the sand on his good side. With one wing ruined, it wouldn’t be his good side for long. Ichigo remembered the feel of a cold scalpel sinking into his flesh, splitting him open.
 
He drew Zangetsu, slashing upwards. He cut straight through bone and blood, severing the Espada’s arm. Szayel fell to his knees, clenching his teeth through a scream. His hand clamped down over the injury, his hand and arm red, wet.
 
Ichigo tossed his severed arm at the Espada’s feet in disgust, watching as he struggled in vain to drag himself away. Ichigo reveled in his pain, it felt deserved after what he’d done to him. He loathed Szayel, and now that he’d crossed the line, there was so little holding him back.
 
He stepped on his back, putting his weight on the deep wound through his gut. Szayel didn’t make a sound, and Ichigo knew it was only because he didn’t have breath left to scream.
 
His fury drew the Espada’s attention, the brave ones appearing some distance away to observe. Ulquiorra watched passively, and either Grimmjow’s old fraccion was too scared to get close, or they couldn’t. Ichigo had no doubt Harribel’s old fraccion was under orders not to approach.
 
Harribel blurred into sight some distance to his left, keeping in his sight so she wouldn’t spook him. He could see the strain it caused her to stand so close when his reiatsu was so oppressive. She demanded, “What has he done?”
 
Ichigo spun Zangetsu around in his hand, the blade parallel with his forearm. He was going to hack him apart, piece by bloody piece.
 
Harribel put more steel into her voice. “

What has he done?

”
 
Ichigo’s eyes flicked over to meet hers and she took a small step back. She didn’t leave, no matter how badly it seemed she wanted to. Ichigo said, “He defied an order. He killed what was

mine

.”
 
She stepped closer, taking a risk. “You don’t do

this

over an order, over poached prey. What has he

done

? Answer me, White.”
 
Ichigo growled, warning her to back off. His power rose beyond what she could feel, what any of them could feel, but it was strong enough to displace the air around them. The wind shifted, tugging his hair over his shoulders and pushing the sand away from his feet. Darkness coiled around him without having consciously called for it. He embraced the numbing chill that settled inside him, it was better than feeling the pain.
 
Ichigo knew this Szayel wasn’t the one that hurt him, but he looked the same, his soul

felt

the same, it was a complete illusion. He hissed, “

Nothing

.” Not yet, not here, Szayel had killed an arrancar that was important to Nel, but was that why he was so angry?
 
She risked getting closer, and Ichigo raised his Zanpakuto in her direction in warning. She paused, still several feet away, but close enough she didn’t need to raise her voice. She spoke again. “It’s no small secret you hate Szayel. Does the Szayel of

this

time deserve the punishment of the Szayel from your time?”
 
Ichigo snapped, “They’re the same!” Even to his own ears it didn’t sound right.
 
Wisely, Szayel said nothing, he only struggled to be silent.
 
Harribel said, “Whatever his faults in your time, he has not committed them here, nor can he. We still need him.”
 
Her voice didn’t waver, there was no fear there, only certainty. That gave Ichigo pause.
 
Zangetsu wouldn’t stop screaming, urging him to kill the arrancar at his feet. Zangetsu’s desire to cut was so strong, his sword trembled in his hand. The noise in his head was offset by the near silence around him. He wanted to kill him so badly. Szayel was fragile, they all were, it would only take a little pressure...
 
He could feel phantom lines of pain streaking his back. He lifted his sword, but hesitated. The arrancar at his feet didn’t have an ounce of the arrogance he remembered. He was fearful, submissive, cowering. It turned his stomach over in disgust, but now he understood why.

I did this…

“FINISH IT, KILL HIM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Harribel took another risk. She walked up to him, slowly, cautiously, and laid a hand on his arm. “Enough.”
 
Ichigo didn't look at her, his eyes were locked on Szayel. The arrancar still wouldn't look at him, and that filled him with a fury he didn't understand. Szayel had hurt Nel twice now, and him, but no would ever know how much, not the Espada, not anyone. He thought he might prefer it that way, but burying his pain only ever resulted in this.
 
Ichigo took a step back, letting Szayel up. The Espada curled up around his injured gut, his breathing labored.
 
Ichigo lowered his arm, and Harribel hesitantly withdrew her hand. Ichigo blocked out Zangetsu's screams, glaring down at Szayel in contempt. This wasn’t the arrancar he remembered, not in full. He was still a sadistic fuck, but this was vengence,

torture

; there was no justice in this.
 
Ichigo let out a slow breath, trying to let go over the anger that was coiled so tightly in his chest. He glanced over at her. “That was stupid of you.” One wrong word, one misstep, and he might have killed her, consequences be damned.
 
She said, “I won't contest that, but I would sooner put myself at risk than let you do something you'd regret.”
 
Harribel would lose no sleep over his conscience, she was talking about Szayel’s usefulness. Harribel was right, they still needed Szayel, this was vengeance motivated purely out of his selfishness.
 
He bared his teeth in a snarl of defeat, sheathing his sword.

“NO!”

He reached down to grab Szayel by the throat. Szayel gripped his wrist, trying to take the weight off his neck, the panic clear on his face. It was so tempting to squeeze, but he let him breathe. Harribel looked concerned, but he reassured her, his tone flat. “He’ll live.”
 
He dragged the Espada with him into the darkness, reemerging from that split in the world close to an adjuchas several miles from Las Noches. He dropped Szayel, moving in a blur to attack the startled hollow with his bare hands. He had aggression to work off, and he couldn’t take it out on Szayel without going overboard and killing him.
 
He crippled the adjuchas, blood dripping from his claws as it twitched in the sand. Szayel watched him in silence, clearly not understanding what Ichigo intended. Ichigo went back for Szayel, grabbing him and throwing him at the adjuchas. “Use Gabrielle.”
 
Szayel was trembling, from fear, blood loss, or pain, Ichigo didn’t care. The Espada pushed himself up and asked, “How did you know?”
 
“Don’t ask stupid questions. I’m from the future.”
 
Szayel looked in his direction for a moment, but the Espada couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. Szayel turned back at the adjuchas, reaching out with a tentacle to constrict it. “I can’t imagine a world where I would ever be strong enough to be a threat to you.”
 
Szayel collapsed, his chest shuddering with the struggle to breath. Ichigo felt his heart stop in the darkness that pervaded his being, but his reiatsu remained. The hollow he’s crippled went rigid, it’s life being sapped to sustain the parasite inside it. It vomited, and Ichigo looked away in disgust.
 
Szayel’s old body turned to dust, scattering on the wind the same as the adjuchas that had sacrificed its life for him. Ichigo stepped up to the Espada, disgusted with himself for the joy he took from seeing the fear in Szayel. The Espada asked, “What did I do to you?”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes. Szayel seemed to be asking out of insatiable curiosity, despite whatever risks it might hold to his life. He didn’t doubt that he held some bit of pride over the fact that any incarnation of himself could elicit such a response. Ichigo said, “You were the boost I needed to access all my power. Turns out all I needed was a little hate, a little rage.”
 
He lashed out, swiping his claws across Szayel’s face. He caught him before he could fall with a hand in his coat, blood welling in the deep rivers he’d cut into his cheek. Szayel was a narcissist. Scarring him would give him the reaction he wanted.
 
Szayel reached up for his face, eyes wide in horror, but Ichigo stopped him with a hiss. “Leave it. You took something from me, and I’ve repaid it.” It wasn’t equal from his perspective, but to Szayel, it was nearly unfair. He let Szayel go, and it was harder than he wanted to admit. “Don’t count on mercy if you cross me again.”
 
Szayel still carefully avoided eye contact. He asked, “So why spare me?”
 
Ballsy fucker. “You heard Harribel. I still need you.” That was part of the truth, but deep down, he was afraid of how badly he’d wanted it. He grabbed Szayel, turning and dragging him into the darkness portal he created. The Espada fell to his hands and knees, shivering and retching once they got through the darkness. Seems it wasn’t pleasant. That was good to know.
 
Szayel fell out of resurreccion, gripping his sword and replacing it at his side. Ichigo had brought them back closer to his lab, not going out of his way to humiliate the Espada. He hated him, but enough was enough, and unless he killed Szayel, he wanted nothing to do with him for a long time.
 
It was agony to leave Szayel alone, but he turned his back and left him there, shaken, but in one piece. He turned and left through a portal, not trusting himself to walk away otherwise. His extremities were starting to feel sluggish, cold, and he decided using el sangre again so soon wouldn't be wise. At least one thing to come of this was some knowledge of his limits.
 
He’d sent himself some ways into the desert to get a grip, someplace he couldn't hurt anyone on accident. He’d chosen a ziggurat as his perch, wanting someplace where he had a good vantage point for no other reason than to ease his mind.
 
He sat, cross legged, and fell into his inner world. Ichigo drew his sword the instant he was able, blocking an attack from Zangetsu. Ichigo was just as angry as his hollow, if not more so.
 
He beat his hollow back, shouting, “Don’t forget who’s king here!”
 
Ichigo hammered at him, Zangetsu put on the defensive. Their clash was frantic, but brief, the sheer reiatsu from their blows shattering the buildings in his mind. Ichigo had Zangetsu on his back in moments, the point of his sword hovering just above his throat.
 
Zangetsu glared up at him, defiant, but there was something else there as well; understanding.
 
Ichigo knew Zangetsu had thrown their fight, he'd lost on purpose, and that infuriated him. He ground his teeth and pulled back, sheathing his sword. “Don’t look at me like that.”
 
Zangetsu’s tone was deeply sarcastic. “Would you prefer I beat you down and take control?”
 
Ichigo shivered at the memory. Losing control to Zangetsu had just been alcohol in raw wounds. It was years past and it still stung to remember; It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Zangetsu didn’t want him broken, he just wanted him safe.
 
His vision blurred, and he reached for his face, his fingertips brushing away tears. He was crying?
 
Zangetsu got to his feet and said, “That fucker did this to you. He deserves everything you did to him

and then some

.”

Ichigo didn’t bother trying to hide his tears, there was no point. “Nel wouldn’t want that, and at one point I didn’t either.” He asked, “When did that change?”
 
“When they left you for dead in the desert!”
 
Ichigo winced, because he wasn’t wrong. He could still feel the sting of loneliness and fear he'd felt as he'd stood in the desert alone. No one came for him, Aizen had been right.

He’d been right.

When he’d needed someone, he was

alone

.
 
His voice sounded wrong. “Szayel was just a tool, in the end it was always Aizen.”
 
Zangetsu scoffed in disagreement. He asked, “Do you regret it?”
 
He wasn’t talking about the present, he was talking about the past. Ichigo wiped the dampness from his cheek with the back of his hand. He let out a heavy breath. “No...but I feel like I should.”
 
Someone had been there to stop him this time, but that first time, he’d torn Szayel to shreds. From Aizen’s apparent approval of that violence, he’d always felt some level of shame. He’d never told anyone about what he’d done, not even his friends. The only one who knew was Aizen, and he was dead and gone.
 
He wasn’t going to forget that look on this Szayel’s face; He’d been fearful, timid. Some part of him took solace in the fact he’d inflicted even half of what Szayel had inflicted on him, but another, deeper part of himself felt self loathing. The Szayel in his past had been surprised, but he hadn’t cowered, he hadn’t been so pitiful.
 
He was every bit the monster Orihime had been afraid he was.
 
Zangetsu put himself directly before him, not letting Ichigo ignore him. He answered his unspoken thoughts. “Yeah, king, you’re the monster now.” They couldn't hurt him if he was already one of them. That was where the logic was born, wasn't it?
 
Years ago, when he crossed that line, is this what he expected? He couldn’t help but articulate his fears. “Is this really what I wanted?”
 
Zangetsu asked, “Having regrets?” His usual mocking edge was gone, and he watched his wielder carefully.
 
Ichigo forced himself not to look away. Those cold amber eyes were his eyes too. He could ignore Zangetsu, but he wasn’t going away. That flicker of insanity that he saw reflected in Zangetsu was coiled around his instincts. They were one in the same. He chose this, and everything that came with it, and now all he could do was live with those choices. His answer was resolute. “No.”
 
His voice didn't waver this time, he was confident in his choice. “There's no revenge to be had anymore, the Szayel that hurt me has been dead for years. Let it go, Zangetsu.”
 
Zangetsu narrowed his eyes, but relented, turning away. “He deserved all that and then some.”
 
Ichigo’s thoughts circled back to Nel. “Being tortured to death? Maybe, but we need him, but if she wants vengeance, she can have it. It's not mine to take.” He wasn't too distraught over what he'd done to Szayel. In reality, he was mourning the loss of who he’d hoped he could be. That illusion had been dying with every passing day. He wanted to believe he was still one of the good guys, but was that true. People were afraid of him, and for good reason.
 
“Nothing wrong with being the scarier monster, king.”
 
Ichigo weighed that answer, looking out at the desert in his mind. “Whatever it takes.”
 
Zangetsu didn’t agree, his inner spirits couldn’t abide him throwing his life away for another. He understood, but that didn’t mean he would stop.
 
He flexed his hand, still finding it to be sluggish. He changed the subject, trying to take his mind off his rage. “Do you feel that too?”
 
Zangetsu and ossan both looked at him, their expression answer enough. Ichigo asked, “Think it’ll pass?”
 
Zangetsu growled. “It sure as shit better be temporary.”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “Or what?” Zangetsu seethed, flickering away with sonido to take up throwing bits of debris from their fight at the desert. He screamed, clearly not over their shared rage, and if Alteza noticed or cared, it wasn’t obvious to any of them.
 
Ichigo wasn’t sure how wise it was to antagonize the thing wrapped around his soul, but Zangetsu needed an outlet, and personally, he needed to calm down, he wasn’t going to fight him again. Anger wasn’t going to solve anything.
 
Ossan spoke, watching Zangetsu hurl rocks and threats at the unmoving sand. “Perhaps you should seek Ryūken’s advice. Your ability to manage reishi isn’t much better than before.”
 
Ichigo looked up at him. “Concerned?” He was met with silence, his quincy half giving him a very pointed look. He didn’t want to leave without resolving what he’d set in motion. He needed to tell Nel, he wanted to be the one to tell her, but this was a problem. “Shit…”
 
Ichigo opened his eyes, pulling himself from his inner world. Zangetsu’s cursing was all the more apparent, but he tuned it out. He considered the time he had to spare, then did something stupid.
 
He stepped into the darkness again, much to the protest of both of his inner spirits. He stepped out above the hospital, and the sluggish drag of his limbs only intensified. He staggered, catching himself in a crouch, and squinted against the sudden light of the sun.

Relax a little, I don’t think it’s so bad it’ll kill me, Alteza is silent.

“So it’s fine so long as you

don’t die

?!”

I can’t waste time here, and it’ll be easier to see what’s wrong if it’s worse than numb fingers.

Zangetsu’s tone was thick with sarcasm.

“Fine, twist the sword deeper, the fuck do I care?!”

Ichigo wearily rolled his eyes, stepping up to Ryūken’s window. It looked like midday, he was lucky the man was even in his office. He tapped a claw on the glass, the quincy swiveling in his chair. He was speaking, clearly on a conference call. He stood speaking for another minute, then hung up and went to the window. He slid it open, irritation clear on his face. “I hope you have a good reason for interrupting me at

my job

.”
 
Ichigo leaned on the glass, smirking wryly. “Partial paralysis?” He was so far removed from this it very nearly was funny.
 
Ryūken took a step to the side, letting him in. Ichigo stepped in, and his legs gave out. He caught himself in a crouch, realizing he was still covered in Szayel’s blood.

Brilliant

.

“Yeah, not a good look for ya, king.”

Ryūken got a better look at him, noticing the bloody handprint. “You’re injured?”
 
“No. It’s not mine.” He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn’t listen. He let out a frustrated breath. “Shit.” So maybe that jump made it worse than he was expecting. It

was

a jump between dimensions.
 
Ryūken made an annoyed sound, shrugging out of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Forget it. Sit down, or lie down, you’re not getting up.”
 
Ichigo was too wired to consider lying down. He sat, leaning forward on his knees. All of his limbs felt like they were asleep; it wasn’t a good feeling. He watched Ryūken with a wary eye, weaker than he expected he’d be. He still had access to all of his reiatsu and then some, but it was jarring to be slow.
 
Ryūken took his wrist, eyes unfocused as he felt out his reiryoku. Ichigo watched in silence, but as the minutes dragged on, his eyes wandered. By the time he got back, Nel might already know. Should he ask Orihime to heal her? He really didn’t know what to do about Nel.
 
“Kurosaki.” His attention was drawn back to Ryūken when he heard his name, and the quincy looked serious. “Whatever you were doing pushed your quincy power aside, then it rushed back too quickly, injuring yourself. You don’t use your quincy power much; I wouldn’t say it’s atrophied, but you’re forcing your body to do too much too quickly. It might not kill you, but you could cause irreparable damage. Don’t do it again.”
 
Ichigo snorted, and Ryūken looked taken aback. “Are you not taking me seriously?”
 
Ichigo tried not to roll his eyes, the quincy

was

helping him. “Hardly. Pretty embarrassing, to cripple

myself

, isn’t it?”
 
Ryūken straightened, walking over to pull out a towel. “Probably not your best moment.” He cleaned the blood off his hand, dropping it in the wastebin. It wasn’t like anyone that wasn’t spiritually aware could see it. The quincy asked, “Who do I bill for the damage?”
 
Ichigo looked down at the blood he’d inadvertently got all over his floor. “Sorry. Urahara will pay for it.” He almost felt bad throwing him under the bus, but like hell was he getting his own father involved. He still hadn’t seen him since...He asked, “How long do you think this will last?”
 
Ryūken asked, “You have high speed regeneration?” Ichigo dipped his head in a nod. “Not long.” When Ichigo looked at him expectantly, he pushed up his glasses and said, “Maybe a couple of hours before you can walk. That’s just a guess.”
 
Ichigo let out a long, slow breath, deciding this was for the best. If he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do something stupid. It forced him to cool off.
 
Ryūken asked, “Whose blood?”
 
Ichigo kept his answer deliberately vague. “Arrancar.”
 
The quincy mused, “Aren’t you on the same side?”
 
Ichigo’s eyes slid to the quincy, aware Ryūken could probably tell that most of that blood was from Szayel. His explanation was brief. “He pissed me off.”
 
Ryūken mused, “Short temper?”
 
Ichigo could feel that Zangetsu was just as annoyed as he was by his line of questioning. “What makes you say that?”
 
Ryūken said, “You don’t get bloody like that using a sword.”
 
“

And?

”
 
The quincy readjusted his glasses, pushing off from the desk to go sit back in his chair. “The shinigami have good cause for concern.”
 
He went back to whatever he’d been doing previously, and despite Ichigo’s anger, Ryūken was right. He hadn’t given Soul Society much of a reason to trust him. This was a mess of his own making.
 
He shifted, sitting with his back against the wall, and let his head fall back. He’d already ruined the rug, what was a wall?
 
He was still stiff and sluggish, but Ryūken was right, it was getting better, he just had to wait. His sword was pinned between his back and the wall, which wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but it was reassuring.
 
Ryūken said, “Doesn’t that girl possess a healing ability?”
 
“

No

.” His answer was almost too quick. He’d rather suffer with his own mistakes than involve her unnecessarily.
 
Ryūken said “I don’t really want you in here, she could remove you from the premises more quickly. Do you have a reason?”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes at him. “Leave her out of it...I don’t want her to see me like this.” That was painfully honest, but it was the truth. He was the monster now, he could accept that, but he still didn’t want to see Orihime come to grips with that right in front of him. He wouldn’t shatter her image of the Kurosaki she remembered if he could help it.
 
Ryūken sighed in irritation. “Fine. I have a meeting, close the window when you leave.” He fixed his sleeves, then shrugged back into his jacket, leaving Ichigo alone with his thoughts.
 
He closed his eyes, flexing and tightening his fingers, testing his strength as he waited. He spoke to no one in particular. “I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

“You’re not perfect, Ichigo, no one is. Do what you can, keep moving forward.”

Ichigo wasn’t so sure that he was. His past was still dragging him down, this was proof. He couldn’t just forget about it, but he couldn’t keep ignoring it. He owed Harribel, he’d almost done something stupid. If he’d pulled Szayel just a bit farther away, she might not have gotten there to intervene. This would have consequences, he couldn’t pretend that it wouldn’t.
 
“It’s never enough, is it?”

“What’re you rambling about?”

“Power. It’s never enough.”

“There’s always someone better, isn’t that what they say? Get better, that’s all there is to it.”

Ichigo muttered, “I’m working on it, asshole.”
 
It meant spending more time around Ishida, who was still uncertain about his intentions, but this couldn’t continue. That his quincy side could affect Alteza at all was interesting, but he didn’t know what that meant. He could feel Alteza coiled inside him. It was nothing but a shadow of the monster he’d felt, but it was there nonetheless. The whispers hadn’t faded, but he’d grown use to them, like white noise.
 
They carried on so long, he was memorizing them, whispering them like a mantra. He had no idea what it meant, but it was a constant in his mind, he sometimes forgot it was there.
 
As soon as he could move, he was finding Nel, he was taking responsibility for his failure. Maybe it wasn’t fair to expect he could know everything that happened in Hueco Mundo, but he took responsibility for it nonetheless.
 
Once that was settled, he was still too weak. He couldn’t ignore his quincy blood any longer.
 
--- xxx ---

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Dondochakka Birstanne - Pesche Guatiche - Bawabawa

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Light is easy to love. Show me your darkness” - R. Queen

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Ichigo was up and gone the instant his legs could hold him without failing. He returned to Las Noches through a garganta, and went straight to the med wing. Pesche was in better condition, but still in a precarious position. He was going to have nasty scars, but it wasn't the physical damage that was the problem, it was the simple fact his mask was shattered. He couldn't leave him like this.
 
He was stepping into the hall when Grimmjow stopped him. Clearly he'd been staking out the med wing, waiting for him. The Espada demanded. “What the fuck was that all about?”
 
Ichigo frowned and kept walking, stepping around him. “What was

what

all about?”
 
Grimmjow dogged his steps, careful, but not enough to leash his tongue. “Don't play stupid, you practically eviscerated an Espada.”
 
“And?”
 
“Why? You scared the shit out of every arrancar besides that fucker Ulquiorra.”
 
Ichigo looked at him sidelong. “Were

you

scared?” Grimmjow grimaced, the shame fleeting, but it was present. “That's reassuring, so you aren't batshit insane.”
 
Grimmjow shot back. “Are

you

?”
 
Ichigo's frown deepened. “Szayel and I have history. It's a shame he doesn't remember.”
 
Grimmjow mocked. “

History

.” He shook his head and said, “You still didn't explain

why

. Why do you care what happens to some low level arrancar trash?”
 
Ichigo let the insult slide, but he realized Nel must have been before Grimmjow's time. How far before, he might not ever know, time was meaningless in Hueco Mundo. “He's the fraccion of an former Espada.”
 
“I don't recognize him. Who the fuck are you talking about?”
 
Ichigo said, “Nelliel. The former tres Espada.”
 
“Who?” Realization crossed his face, brows furrowing. “

The brat

? You're joking.”
 
Ichigo gave him a sour look. “Her mask was cracked and it had unintended side effects; It made her look young.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t deny it was real, but he didn’t look sold either. “I've never heard of that happening.”
 
Ichigo was still far from happy with the outcome. “Well neither did Szayel, because he decided it was worth the risk.” And crossing him was more than just a risk, it was bad for his health.
 
Grimmjow looked at him sidelong and growled. “Do something about that, by the way.”
 
“What?” Ichigo paused, following Grimmjow’s gaze to the blood he was still drenched in. It was just sticky now, sticky and disgusting. That this kept happening didn't seem like a good thing.
 
The Espada added, “Unless you

like

to scare the shit out of the numeros?”
 
Having every arrancar he passed shiver in fear wasn't ideal. A healthy dose of fear wasn't bad, but terror? Even Aizen knew that wasn’t good.
 
Ichigo changed direction and muttered, “Not really.”
 
Despite whatever impact it might have on morale, it was probably better to take care of it now rather than later. Not to mention how uncomfortable it was. He'd been so distracted and numb, he’d nearly forgotten about it.
 
He noticed Grimmjow sizing him up, and he grew a bit concerned that he wasn’t hiding his weakness as well as he’d hoped. He wasn't limping or doing anything outwardly noticeable, but Grimmjow watched him like a hawk.  
 
Without warning, Grimmjow drew Pantera, attacking in the same motion.
 
Ichigo reacted on instinct alone, and he still barely managed to get his forearm up to block. He stopped his sword short from cutting into his neck, eyes widening when he realized what he’d done. Even if Grimmjow’s blow had landed, he wouldn't have cut him, but he’d just betrayed the fact his reflexes were shot.
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened. “You're slow.” He was clearly surprised that he had been right. Ichigo never would have admitted his weakness out loud, he couldn’t blame Grimmjow for trying his luck.
 
Given how often they fought and how keen Grimmjow’s instincts were, Ichigo decided he shouldn’t be surprised that the Espada had sniffed out his weakness so quickly.
 
Ichigo shoved his sword off his arm, giving his fraccion a warning look, and kept walking. Grimmjow didn’t attack him again, even if it looked like he was considering it. The Espada sheathed his sword and asked, “How long is that gonna last?”
 
Ichigo wasn’t sure if that was concern he heard in his voice or not. He shrugged it off as irrelevant; it wasn’t like he had a solid track record, Grimmjow’s concern wasn’t unfounded. “It’s wearing off.”
 
Grimmjow gave him a once over. “That’s a pretty bad handicap, the fuck did you do?”
 
Ichigo shot him a glare. “Doesn’t matter, it won’t happen again.” That probably wasn’t true, but to this extent? He wouldn’t do it on purpose.
 
Grimmjow didn't seem satisfied with that answer, so he elaborated. “Not feeling pain has its downfalls.” If he felt the obvious pain that accompanied overexertion, this might not have happened. Then again, it was his instincts that were betraying him.
 
He got to the wash room and started scrubbing. He supposed this much blood should horrify him, but it happened so frequently it was merely a time consuming chore. He had better things to do, but Grimmjow was right, there was no reason to scare the wits out of his entire army. He really didn't want to cut anyone that stumbled into his path to ribbons, but the way the arrancar snuck around him, he knew that was the consensus.
 
A random arrancar might not deserve it, but Szayel did, Szayel deserved it. He clenched his jaw so tight the muscles in his neck went taut. That thought was his, but he didn’t have to pursue it. Szayel paid with his death already, now he was Nel’s, and if she wanted her life back, he would help her take it. She deserved to have what she wanted, she took priority here.
 
Grimmjow leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. He muttered, “I thought

I

had anger issues.”
 
Ichigo was starting to get annoyed that the Espada was hovering. “Sorry, but did you

want

something?”
 
“Not me, Loly. Bitch won't admit she's too scared to talk to you.”
 
He wasn't surprised to hear that, especially after what he did to Szayel. “What did she want?”
 
“She said to tell you she got a few.”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “A few?”
 
Grimmjow looked annoyed by the question. “Beats the hell outta me, that's what she said.”
 
That was news to Ichigo. He expected either one adjuchas, or that he'd never see her again at all. Ichigo splashed water on his face, thinking, and looked back up at Grimmjow. “Where is she?”
 
Grimmjow shrugged. “Hell if I know. She fucked back off to the desert.”
 
Ichigo brushed that off. When he needed her, he could just seek out her reiatsu. She would be the only arrancar out there anyways. He stripped out of his bloody kosode and armor, washing the blood off in the basin. It was hard to tell if it was clean when the scales on his armor were already red.
 
He was aware of Grimmjow’s presence, wondering why he was still there. He glanced back up at him. “Anything else?”
 
“You telling me to fuck off?”
 
Ichigo gave him a pointed look, and Grimmjow scowled, looking torn. Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “You can’t seriously be concerned about leaving me alone?”
 
Grimmjow looked caught, then angry. “How the fuck should I know?! If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were suicidal. You do some dumb shit, Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. “I told you not to call me that.”
 
Grimmjow sucked in a hissing breath. “Whatever.”
 
The Espada turned to leave, hesitated, then Ichigo realized he actually did have something to say to Grimmjow. He spoke up. “Actually...I want you to consider something.”
 
Grimmjow looked over his shoulder and snapped, “What?”
 
“I might be able to help you achieve your second form, but it would be risky. You should think about it.” He would know more if he managed to turn an adjuchas, and if he managed to keep from paralyzing himself, but he wanted to give Grimmjow plenty of time to think about it.
 
Grimmjow bared his teeth aggressively. “You sayin’ you don’t think I can do it?” Ichigo stopped what he was doing and just looked at him. Whatever Grimmjow saw in him, he broke eye contact, uncomfortable.
 
Ichigo said, “I think you’re capable, but time is something I don’t think we have.”
 
“Nothing ever fucking happens, what are you talking about?”
 
Ichigo said, “I feel a creeping sense of urgency, and I don’t think it’s paranoia.” He looked back down at the armor he’d submerged in the water and said, “That’s for me to worry about. You know what I expect from you.”
 
Grimmjow said nothing, and when Ichigo looked up, the Espada just looked thoughtful, angry. The Espada left in silence, and Ichigo was grateful he was taking his offer seriously.
 
He got clean and dressed, then went to find Nel, dread and guilt settling in his stomach. He walked, not eager to have this discussion. He sensed her reiatsu near Starrk, noting how distressed it felt. This wasn’t going to be easy.
 
He paused on the threshold and saw Starrk sitting cross-legged facing Nel, Lilynette leaning against his back. They both seemed upset for once.
 
Nel had backed herself into a corner, curled into a ball. Starrk glanced up at him, but said nothing. Ichigo couldn’t recall Starrk ever having empathy for another Espada, but he didn’t seem to have been able to remove himself from being concerned over Nel.
 
Ichigo crossed the room, crouching in front of her. “Hey, Nel.”
 
She looked up, her eyes red from crying. “Is he-is he really…”
 
“He’s gone Nel...I’m sorry.” No matter how numb his heart was as a hollow, it still hurt to see the consequences of his failure. He hadn’t been the one to kill Dondochakka, but his neglect had still led to it. If he had faced his past and hadn’t avoided Szayel...no regrets.
 
He asked, “Do you want to see Pesche?” He knew she did, but he was going to pose it as a question anyway.
 
Nel looked over at Starrk. “He wouldn’t let Nel go.”
 
Ichigo glanced back at Starrk in gratitude. The Espada gave him a knowing look; he was well acquainted with protecting someone, even if that someone was a part of his soul. Nel was still vulnerable like this, he didn’t want her wandering around. She was strong when her mask was whole, but crippled, she was a target.
 
He looked back at her and said, “I’ll take you to go see him, he’s going to be okay.”
 
Tears welled up in her eyes and she threw herself at his chest. “Nel wants to see Pesche!”
 
He sighed and gathered her up in his arms, he still felt a little sluggish as he straightened, but he didn’t think Starrk noticed. If he did, he made no comment. She fisted her hands into his borrowed kosode in a death grip and climbed up onto his shoulders while he walked them to the med bay.
 
She sniffled, leaning on his head. Why she wasn’t afraid of him, and why she didn’t put him on edge, he didn’t know. It was what it was.
 
He brought her to Pesche like he promised, and she climbed down to the tabletop, sitting beside him. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn’t cry. “You weren’t s'posed to get hurt.”
 
Ichigo backed off, taking up his usual place by the wall. Pesche’s reiatsu was low, which was worrisome. The arrancar all looked hell bent on not catching his attention, but they got it anyways. He chose one at random, fixing them with a stare. “Hey. C’mere.” She had a mask over half her face, brown hair long on that side to hide it.
 
The female arrancar stiffened, sweating, and crossed over to him, clearly torn between moving quickly and stalling. She stopped an uncertain distance away and bent in a stiff bow. “Heika.”
 
He hated formalities. “How is he?”
 
She straightened, but kept her eyes glued to the floor. “He’s stable, but his mask seems to have been shattered beyond repair. He’s losing reiatsu, if it continues like this...it might drain his reiryoku.”
 
Ichigo let out a hiss of irritation and the arrancar flinched. “Relax, I’m not angry at you.” Fucking Szayel.
 
He rubbed at a growing headache, not happy about his options. He didn’t want to run to Orihime, begging for help every time he fucked up. That wasn’t fair to her. He knew she would agree in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t the point.
 
He flexed his hand again, his eyes lingering on Pesche. Slow, he was still slow.

“King, don’t even fuckin’ think about it. Do ya even listen to people when they tell ya not to do shit?”

I might be able to fix this on my own.

“King, just get the princess.”

Zangetsu sounded distraught, desperate.

She doesn’t need to be a part of this

.
 
He could still remember that haunted look in her eyes so clearly. She had been shouldering all the guilt of everyone she’d lost, she’d stopped smiling, laughing. He didn’t want that to happen, she deserved to be happy.
 
Ichigo ordered, “Everyone out.”

“King.”

He didn’t have to wait for them to obey, the small handful of arrancar were up and gone in a heartbeat. He lingered there by the wall, coiling and uncoiling his fingers. His motions were still slow, but it was nothing compared to before. Whatever he did was going to use Pesche’s strength more than his own. If the arrancar grew too weak, trying to help him might just speed up his death.
 
The minutes ticked by, and he was getting more and more certain of what he wanted to try. He pulled the darkness close, gradually. Maybe if he went agonizingly slow, he could avoid hurting himself? It was a theory anyway.
 
He carefully let it gather around him, much to Zangetsu’s protest. Even with his meager reishi lessons, he could see now that Alteza was being literal. El sangre really did flow through him, he seemed to be the conduit that gave it direction and purpose, not unlike reiatsu.
 
He stepped away from the wall, crossing the room to stand over Pesche. He raised his hands to the sides of his head, his fingertips just barely brushing his temples. He asked quietly. “You conscious?”
 
Pesche opened his eyes, exhausted, but his curiosity was clear in his eyes.
 
Ichigo said, “I might be able to help you, but it will be risky. Do you want me to try?” If things went badly, he would suck it up and beg Orihime, but unless he tried and failed, he wanted to keep her removed from this.
 
Pesche’s eyes drifted to Nel. “Please.”
 
Nel looked from Pesche to Ichigo, understanding well enough what position Pesche was in. She wasn't stupid, she would let Pesche decide on his own, no matter how worried she was.
 
Ichigo remembered Szayel’s reaction to el sangre and warned. “This is going to be very unpleasant. Try not to fight it.” It might be pointless to ask for that, it might not be feasible, but he could at least warn him.
 
He reached out for el sangre and Pesche shuddered. That strain of passive darkness that lived inside all hollows responded to his touch, something he'd never thought to try before. Now that he reached for it, he found it was all too easy to manipulate.
 
He closed his eyes, extending his senses while also narrowing them to the hollow before him. He could feel his heart, literally broken in the fragmented remains of his mask. Just touching them filled him with a bottomless ache and a need to feed, a carnal desire he refused to humor.
 
He guided the darkness, reshaping and filling the fissures. He returned Pesche to what he was suppose to be, to the form the dark remembered. Ichigo only had to coax it into action, it wanted to be whole.
 
He pulled his senses back, slowly letting his grip on el sangre slip away. He opened his eyes, feeling a weary sense of satisfaction when he saw Pesche’s mask was complete once again. Was it different? He wasn’t sure he’d ever paid attention, but he had the nagging feeling it was. He was left to wonder just what he’d done.
 
Ichigo noticed a tremble in his hands, and he let them fall. He could still move, but he was still slowly letting his grip on el sangre loosen. He wasn't sure how bad this might get.

Will this affect you too?

Zangetsu was surprisingly serious.

“No, it's a physical problem, not a spiritual one.”

Ichigo could feel his hollow pulling on his power, aggressively asking to be let out. Being nearly defenseless in the living world seemed all well and good, but Hueco Mundo? His hollow wasn't having it.
 
Ichigo let Zangetsu materialize rather than argue, and the hollow hovered protectively beside him.

I'm not crippled just yet, don't panic.

Zangetsu gave him a dirty look, but said nothing.
 
Ichigo looked down at Pesche and asked, “How do you feel?”
 
The arrancar gave him a strained smile. “Better.”
 
Nel started to cry again, dropping her head to his chest. “Nel ish so happy! Don’t get hurt again...”
 
Pesche lifted his hand to her back with a shallow sigh. Ichigo reassured him. “No one will bother you. Get some rest.”
 
Nel looked exhausted, quietly sobbing on her adoptive brother's chest. Pesche closed his eyes and murmured, “Thank you.”
 
Ichigo turned away, but paused in the doorway. He knew Nel didn't remember who she was, her fraccion had been protecting her from her past. If he tried to fix her mask, her memory would return. Was it really his place to make that choice? He didn't want that responsibility.
 
Ichigo left, Zangetsu shadowing him. The tremble in his hands grew worse, something Zangetsu noticed, but didn't comment on. He didn't need to, Ichigo could feel how anxious he was.
 
Ichigo gave the arrancar orders to leave Pesche and Nel alone, then retreated to someplace quiet. Once he was isolated, he let his tenuous grip on the dark slip, the numb paralysis settling in quickly.
 
His back hit the wall, sliding to the ground. He felt Alteza stir in his soul, but it remained silent beyond the ever present whispers.
 
Zangetsu stood over him and grumbled, “Stupid, suicidal shit.”
 
Ichigo scoffed, “I'm not suicidal.”
 
“Coulda fooled me. But then, is it still suicide if you're just

stupid

?”
 
Ichigo let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes. He murmured incredulously, “Such heartfelt concern.” It was starting to annoy him how much his own ineptitude was fucking him over.
 
He still needed to seek out Loly and the adjuchas she'd gathered, but if this was going to be the end result of his efforts that was a bad idea. He could train on his own, but he didn't have the time to waste; his only real option was simply to go ask Ishida for help.
 
Zangetsu asked, “How bad is it?”
 
Ichigo half shrugged. “Not as bad as it was. At least I'm not in pain.” That was a double edged sword, but that didn't mean he'd enjoyed the agony he'd been in before.
 
Zangetsu tilted his head, glancing back to the door. “Then take advantage and get some fuckin’ sleep.”
 
Ichigo glared like he was about to argue, then realized how pointless that was. He could always use the sleep, and it wasn't often he as in a situation where had no other recourse but to sleep.
 
He curled up on his side on the ground, far from comfortable, but he was didn't feel the need to waste time finding a room with a bed when he couldn't physically stand up.
 
He couldn’t allow himself to be crippled so badly every time he thought to use el sangre, but until he learned control, it was inevitable. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn't do anything so drastic unless it was life or death, he couldn't afford a weakness like this. It was bad enough Grimmjow noticed.
 
He drifted into sleep, secure in the knowledge Zangetsu would protect him.
 
--- xxx ---

He opened his eyes to an endless expanse of desert. Hueco Mundo. A dream? That he would be so conscious of it was strange, but he was acutely aware this wasn’t reality. Why? He couldn't be certain. It was a filtered realm of shadows and half remembered thoughts.

~Can you hear me?~

This voice was different, this wasn’t Alteza. This voice was deeper, softer, mortal.

Who are you?

~The one that came before you.~

Ichigo had to stop to consider what the voice meant.

A host?

~You aren't as foolish as you look.~

Thanks? How are you talking to me? Aren’t you…

~Dead? Yes and no. Alteza is busy holding you together, it’s rather noisy unless it’s occupied; it seems things are quiet enough for you to hear my voice. There isn’t much of me left, let it count, visored.~

It’s Ichigo.

~Visored.~

Ichigo frowned. Smartass, just what he needed. He couldn’t feel his inner spirits here, which was troubling.

So you’re the host that came before me. How long has it been?

~I don’t know. I’m a shadow, a memory.~

Ichigo asked,

Where are we?

~I pulled you into my mind, or what’s left of it.~

Ichigo didn’t much like the sound of that. He tried to pull himself from this waking dream, and found he couldn’t leave. He felt a flash of panic, pulling harder. He heard Alteza’s whispers carried on the wind, so soft he couldn’t make out the words.

~Relax, visored. If I let you leave now, this opportunity will be wasted.~

Ichigo growled,

I don’t like being a prisoner in my own mind.

~Then you must feel how fragile this reality is. Keep fighting against me and Alteza will pull me back under, then all of this will have been for nothing.~

Ichigo didn’t like it, but he felt if he shoved hard enough, he could free himself. That he had an escape helped ease his mind; this voice wasn't lying, this place was fragile, and if he pushed too hard, it would shatter.
 
He asked,

What is it you wanted to say to me?

~Show you.~

The scenery began to change, the dunes shifting under him until his feet touched something solid. Glass?

This is-

~My grave.~

Ichigo saw a shadowy figure beneath frozen waves, but too far down and too obscured by the distortion in the glass to make out any details.

What did this?

~The host of die Königin.~

The voice almost sounded wistful. Ichigo guessed,

You knew them?

~I knew her…too well.~

Ichigo wasn't sure what to say to that, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. He couldn't see him, but he sensed regret, guilt.

~You were born with one foot in darkness, another in the light. You have a chance, visored.~

You didn’t?

~I couldn’t destroy what I loved, I lost everything for that weakness.~

Ichigo had a hard time seeing love as a weakness, it was the thing that drove him. Or so he believed. At this point, he felt like he was nurturing an obsession.

You loved her?

~The shinigami think a hollow has lost their heart. You know this isn’t true, you’ve given our kind a chance.~

Ichigo bit back.

Our kind?

~You’re one of us. You’ve felt the void, you understand.”

Ichigo did understand. Arrancar had a heart, it was their belief that they didn’t that tore them apart. Little by little they became more human, they lost their desire to feed off of human souls or hollows and found their heart. In this form he felt that visceral drive an adjuchas nurtured in fear of regression. He couldn’t regress, but that feeling of urgency persisted when he was in this form.
 
Ichigo asked,

Who is she?

~She is a Quincy. She is the heart of die Königin, just as you are el

corazón

de Alteza.~

Ichigo looked down at the illusion surrounding him, at the glass that rippled between him and the last host.

There’s something as powerful as Alteza?

~Of course. Balance; it told you, didn’t it? What is the antithesis of despair, darkness, death?~

Life?

~Yes. Just as hollows are born in death and darkness, Quincy are born in the light, they’re born to life. Die Königin is the light, just as Alteza is the dark. These two things can never mix...or so I had believed. You’re a strange child.~

Ichigo felt the fear that this talk might be cut short. Already he could hear the whispers.

She killed you? Why? To what end?

~You know what the shinigami did to them, even I can’t claim to have been so cruel. She needed more power, power Alteza wouldn’t allow die Königin to have. She struck me down, and I let her...I let Hueco Mundo fall to ruin...Without...without a host to channel la sangre, die Königin was free to grow.~

Ichigo heard nothing but regret and nostalgia in his voice.

You still love her, despite what she did to you?

~She was driven by vengeance and pain, how could I not? I’ve felt your heart; you understand vengeance, don’t you?~

Just because I understand doesn’t mean I can abide by it.

Ichigo felt the laughter rather than heard it. It was all around him, and it was no less infuriating for it.

~So you will stop her? Is her vengeance less worthy than your own?~

That’s not it.

~Isn’t it? The shinigami attempted total genocide, would you deny her vengeance?~

Ichigo had the sense this presence was testing him. I

f she has it, the world will fall into chaos. That’s what Alteza’s been muttering about, isn’t it? Balance?

~Since when do you care about what Alteza wants?~

Since not caring might hurt the people I care about.

~Is that all that matters to you? What about justice?~

Who cares about justice? I just want my family and my friends to live.

~So simple. But then, maybe an ideal isn’t enough to place your faith behind? You want to protect, don’t you?~

I'm not going to let anyone die.

~No one? You’ve already failed, Ichigo.~

He felt the depth of his accusation hit him square in the gut. He’d lost all of them, everyone. It couldn’t happen again, he wouldn’t let it. They would live.

~Be at ease...I can’t judge. I know what it’s like to fail.~

Whispers rushed in around him, filling the silence with the gentle dissonance of madness.

~Don’t fail again.~

--- xxx ---

Ichigo woke up with his hands around Zangetsu’s throat. This wasn’t anything new, his hollow stared up at him in bored expectation. Ichigo flinched back, taking in his surroundings in rapidly fading confusion. The room was empty, he was alone, it was fine, the only one here was Zangetsu.
 
Don’t fail…
 
Zangetsu sat up, asking, “What did I miss?”
 
Ichigo let his back hit the wall, his breath leaving him in a satisfied huff. It was nice to have a wall at his back. He sank to the floor, his arms resting on his knees. “What do you mean?”
 
Zangetsu’s concern was on Ichigo’s mind. He said, “That was no nightmare, your mind was MIA. What did I miss?”
 
Ichigo let his head fall back against the wall, his exhale shaky. “The last host had a little chat with me.”
 
Zangetsu narrowed his eyes. “Huh. Gettin’ crowded in there, isn’t it? How did it go?”
 
Ichigo scowled at nothing in particular, noting the whispers in his head were back to normal. Was the voice gone, or was that too much to hope for? He realized he never got his name. He answered, “It went fine, all things considered.”
 
“What did he want?”
 
Ichigo countered, “How do you know it's a he?”
 
“Ya aren't lucky enough to end up with a lady bouncin’ around in yer head, King.”
 
“Fair enough. I did find out that place Alteza won't let me go is where he was killed. It was a Quincy.”
 
“Oh.”
 
“Yeah,

oh

.” Ichigo thought to ask before he forgot entirely. “He called it die Königin

,

what does that mean?”
 
Ossan answered, “

The queen.”

Ichigo mused, “Alteza and die Königin...of course there are two of them, and of course Alteza is losing.” He flexed and clenched his hand, still feeling sluggish, like he'd been in the cold for far too long. “The Königin’s host killed Alteza’s host for a reason. She needed to expand her power, and now she’s had an indeterminable amount of time to do it.”
 
Ossan said, “

Aizen was the host for a time, was he not? Did this not slow her progress?”

Ichigo said, “I don’t think he made much of a difference in the end, or she would have killed him too.”
 
Zangetsu said, “That fucker Alteza doesn’t expect you to kill this bitch, does it? That’s bullshit.”
 
Ichigo gave him a scrutinizing look. “Turning down a fight?”
 
His hollow curled his lip in disgust. “Even I know how to pick my battles.”
 
Ichigo let out an exaggerated sigh and said, “Given Alteza is inherently at odds with my Quincy side, it would explain

this

, and why merely touching me had me in pain.” If the only way it could coexist in his soul was to numb him to the agony, it wasn’t unreasonable to expect terrible things to come from it. He could just hope that learning to have more control over his Quincy side wouldn’t make things worse.
 
Zangetsu was quiet, but it wasn't the usual boredom he’d come to expect. His hollow looked like he was debating speaking. Ichigo demanded, “What?”
 
Ossan chided. “

Trying to keep secrets helps no one.”

Zangetsu grit his teeth, annoyed by his own hesitation. “You’ve been talking in your sleep.”
 
“And saying what?”
 
“It sounds like you’re talking along with the whispers...Can you understand it?”
 
Ichigo looked to the side, his eyes unfocusing, testing what he already knew. “If I listen, and I don’t think about it too hard. Can you not?”
 
Zangetsu looked unsettled. “No. What’s it saying?”
 
They had all tried to ignore the voices, it had almost become like white noise, Ichigo rarely gave it much thought. He asked, “Does it matter? Since when do you care?”
 
“Humor me!”
 
Ichigo stared, curious, then closed his eyes and listened.

f' mgepah Iiahe, ng ahhai f' hup ng mgepahmgep, f' n'ghanglui...

He translated the words as he heard them, unsure how he understood them at all. “...for they were brittle as twig dolls, and when they strayed from the path and fell, their bones splintered like disease stricken wood. The night breathed life into the fungus that consumed them…” He stopped, opening his eyes. “Zangetsu, it’s all gibberish. Stories.”
 
Zangetsu growled, “So why doesn’t it shut the fuck up?”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. “You think I

like

it? I don’t know, I

never

know.” The lack of control bothered him, he tried hard not to think about it.
 
Zangetsu straightened, his tone biting. “Calm down.”
 
Ichigo let out a heavy breath. “Shut up.”
 
Zangetsu stopped talking, and Ichigo wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. He watched Zangetsu pace, feeling how restless he was. Ichigo wasn’t much better, but Zangetsu could move, and he couldn’t. Not well anyway.
 
Ichigo’s thoughts drifted back to Szayel, to

his

Szayel, and it wasn’t too long before Zangetsu stopped pacing. “Keep thinking like that, King, and I really will kill him.”
 
Ichigo clenched his jaw, shooting his hollow a disapproving look. “What’s the harm in recalling a fond memory?”
 
Zangetsu’s smirked. “I have to feel it too, and it puts me in a mood.”
 
Ichigo stood, Zangetsu’s smirk falling, but not disappearing. Ichigo said, “I’m going to go see Ishida.”
 
Zangetsu questioned, “Not gonna make me leave?”
 
Ichigo said, “Make you? No.” Zangetsu just stared, and Ichigo had his answer. He wasn’t back at a hundred percent yet, but he needed to make progress before this got him killed. If Zangetsu wanted to play bodyguard, he wasn’t going to stop him.
 
He opened a garganta, stepping through it and into the Valley of Screams.
 
Zangetsu stayed beside him the entire way, and when he stepped out into the desert surrounding Karakura, he slipped into sonido. He could manage, he was just less graceful than he could have been.
 
Judging from the time of day, Ishida was in class. Life went on, that was the saying, wasn’t it?
 
To his credit, he did hesitate before he ruined Ishida’s day. He blurred into sight just outside the class windows, tapping on the glass with a claw. The tapping wasn’t entirely necessary, Ishida noticed him immediately. Thankfully, this wasn’t a class that his friends all shared. The only ones present were Ishida and Tatsuki. Tatsuki could see him...that was a shame.
 
She stared in horror, but when Ishida excused himself, that seemed to snap her out of it. She ran from the room after Ishida, and Ichigo wondered what he could possibly say.
 
“Did you plan on dealin’ with the girl?”
 
“No, but I suppose it’s overdue.” He blurred into sight directly behind Ishida, who was currently arguing with Tatsuki. She flinched back, eyes wide, and backed straight into Zangetsu. She whirled, throwing a punch before she could even register who she’d run into.
 
Zangetsu caught her fist with a smirk. “My kinda girl.”
 
She yanked her fist free, and Zangetsu let her have her hand back with an increasingly ‘innocent’ smirk. To Tatsuki’s credit, she didn’t scream. Her voice only wavered a little as she demanded, “What the hell is

this

?”
 
Ishida gave Ichigo an unamused look. “It’s

Kurosaki

, what does it look like?” His eyes narrowed when they turned on Zangetsu. “Why he’s let his hollow run free is anyone’s guess.”
 
So Ishida was upset, he could have guessed as much. He’d bothered him at school, the one lace he’d said he wouldn’t. Seemed he was the king at breaking promises.
 
Tatsuki still stared at him like she was seeing a ghost. “Your family had

a funeral

. Ichigo, what

is

this?”
 
Ichigo let his hollow transformation fall away, the effect rippling over to Zangetsu. He caught himself before he fell, but Zangetsu stepped between him and Ishida, as overprotective as usual. It seemed his high speed regeneration was doing more than he’d thought. His sudden fatigue had Ishida watching him in concern, but the Quincy bit back his questions.
 
Ichigo ran his hand through his hair, sucking in a deep breath, and letting it out, slowly. Stay calm. The sudden rush of emotion was always a shock. He wasn’t fond of it, nor was he fond of this sudden exhaustion. “Tatsuki. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, but I don’t have a lot of time-”
 
Her eyes widened, jumping to conclusions. “Are you dying?!”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes. That was an over dramatization. “Not currently, but I’m busy, and my business is with Ishida. You should go back to class.” She bit her lip, clearly torn. “Another day, Tatsuki. If you think they need the truth, I’ll tell everyone else too.”
 
Annoyance flashed across her face “Shoving responsibility off on other people? You’re still an asshole.”  Her criticisms stung just as much as they use to, earning her ire was almost nostalgic. If she could be angry with him at all, it meant she hadn’t completely given up on him.
 
“Sorry, Tatsuki.”
 
She muttered, “An apology? That isn’t like you...” She was shaking, he couldn’t help but spot her weakness. Whether she was shaking out of fear or anger, Ichigo couldn’t be certain, her faint reiatsu was simply turbulent, he couldn’t tell why. “We’re not done, Ichigo. Not by a long shot.”
 
She took a step back, her eyes lingering on Ishida in a silent promise he was going to get spoken to later on. She turned on her heel and went back to class, her hands clenched in fists at her sides.
 
Ichigo sighed, drawing Ishida’s attention back onto him. “Sorry, Ishida. If I had time to spare, I wouldn’t bother you.”
 
Ishida’s brows furrowed. “What’s so pressing that it can’t wait a few hours?”
 
Ichigo said, “The same. This is a weakness I can’t afford. An arrancar already noticed, I don’t have the luxury of time.” Grimmjow wasn’t a threat, but if Grimmjow noticed, others could, and would.
 
Ishida narrowed his eyes, looking more closely. “What does your condition have to do with reishi control?”
 
Ichigo smiled, biting back a chuckle. “It’s pretty self explanatory, I’m overworking myself without even realizing it.”
 
Ishida gave Zangetsu a cautious look. “What about him? Why’s he here?”
 
Zangetsu challenged. “What about me?”
 
Ichigo ignored Zangetsu, answering, “I’m vulnerable, it makes me cautious.”
 
Ishida looked hurt for an instant, but that feeling disappeared before it could take root. If Ichigo didn't know him so well, he wouldn’t have noticed. That Ichigo felt he needed to be on his guard around him might sting, but it gave him peace of mind.
 
Ichigo asked, “Will you help me? It goes against our deal, but you’re the only Quincy I know.” It might not seem like a big deal to ask for help, but for him, it was difficult. He wasn’t use to relying on others anymore. It was one thing to ask someone to train him, and another thing entirely to show up half crippled to beg for help. It wasn’t quite so bad as all that, but he didn’t like it any more or less because of it.
 
Ishida grit his teeth, then started for the school gates. “Let’s go, before I change my mind.”
 
Ichigo let out a breath, then followed after him with a mutter. “Thanks, Ishida.” Maybe it was playing dirty to lean on the Quincy card, but it was no less true. His only options were Ishida and his father, and he’d rather avoid the latter.

...n'ghftyar mgepahlw'nafhor lw'nafh ph'nglui...

Stories...Half remembered lies, but the whispers continued nonetheless. Maybe if he could get a grip on his Quincy side, he could make the whispers stop. It was a slim hope. Why Alteza carried on at all was anyone’s guess.
 
Ishida paused at the gate, gesturing for Ichigo to walk ahead.
 
Zangetsu teased, “Scared?” Ishida only narrowed his eyes in response, not taking the bait.
 
Ichigo slapped his hollow’s shoulder as he passed. “He already agreed to help, leave him alone.”
 
Zangetsu fell into step after him, seemingly at ease, but Ichigo could feel differently. Zangetsu was nervous.
 
His hollow waved the criticism off. “He’s just as skittish as you, King. How could I resist?”
 
Ichigo snapped, “

Try

.” Zangetsu pointedly ignored Ishida, which was as good as Ichigo was going to get.
 
He was well aware of where they were going, even if they had only met twice so far. He cut across the street, a bit annoyed that he had to follow traffic laws, but it was a small price to pay for help.
 
He glanced back at Ishida, who was watching him the same way he might eye a feral dog at the end of its chain. He could only reassure Ishida he wouldn’t hurt him so many times. He’d hurt him once already, even if Ishida didn’t remember. His paranoia seemed deserved.
 
He didn’t want to think about the queen, or the Quincies, so he turned his thoughts on his new puzzle.

...f' ahnythor llll gokln'gha...

That he was speaking along with Alteza in his sleep was puzzling, but so far seemed harmless.

Alteza had an imprint of its last host. Maybe these whispers are the same? The imprint of something it consumed.

“So why would it just spout gibberish and fairytales?”

Hell if I know. Maybe it only seems like gibberish?

“I’m not going to take goddamned notes.”

Ichigo’s tone was deeply sarcastic.

The day I rely on

you

to take notes is the day I’ve given up. It wouldn't hurt to listen and see if I repeat anything the next time I sleep.

“

I'm not making any promises, King.”

What, was there something else you did besides watch me sleep?

No, but why the fuck would I wanna substitute that for somethin’ that’s equally boring?”

Ishida asked, “Do you have to do that?”
 
Ichigo looked back at him, raising a brow.
 
Ishida elaborated, “Talk behind my back.”
 
Ichigo asked, “Is it that obvious?” Ishida just glared, so he could only assume it was. He looked ahead. “I’m just arguing, you didn’t miss anything.”
 
“Arguing about what?”
 
Zangetsu grit his teeth. “Someone’s nosy.”
 
Ichigo said, “I have a whole list of problems, Ishida, this is just one of them. Don’t worry about it.”
 
Ishida asked, “If I said no, if I didn’t agree to teach you, what would you have done?”
 
Ichigo lifted his shoulder in a loose shrug. “Isolate myself, train against Zangetsu, there isn’t much else I could do.” He paused looking back at Ishida. “Don’t feel the need to help me out of pity, you’re allowed to change your mind.”
 
Ishida grit his teeth. “Kurosaki, I’m not helping you out of pity.”
 
Zangetsu asked, “Then what?”
 
Ishida didn’t seem like he’d expected to get their full attention. “There isn’t one reason, but you’re a Quincy...someone has to see to it you don’t disgrace yourself.”
 
Ichigo shifted, gathering the words he couldn’t express enough. “If it counts for anything, I appreciate this Ishida. We were hardly friends in your time, and I haven’t exactly been anything short of a nuisance...but if you need me, you know I’ll be there.”
 
“Kurosaki…”
 
Ichigo tried not to just shrug it off, he was making an effort to be serious. He said, “Maybe it’s pointless to cling to ties that no longer exist, but…”
 
Zangetsu’s tone was sharp. “He’d die for you, for

all

of you miserable fucking weaklings.”
 
Ishida stiffened, intimidated by the sudden aggression, but Ichigo merely sighed, tired of the same old argument. He paused, turning to face his hollow. “This again?”
 
Zangetsu bared his teeth in a silent snarl. “

King

.” Ichigo took a small step forward, daring Zangetsu to defy him. His friends were one of the few things he wouldn’t compromise on, and they were both well aware of that.
 
Zangetsu finally looked away, relenting, if no less angry. Ichigo’s eyes slid past him to Ishida, who seemed uncertain if he wanted to draw a weapon. Ichigo reassured him. “Relax, Ishida. It’s an old argument, and one Zangetsu has never won.”
 
His hollow snorted at that, but didn’t deny it. Ichigo turned and kept walking, Zangetsu still nearly shoulder to shoulder with him, despite their disagreements.
 
Ishida commented dryly. “You get along so well.”
 
Ichigo considered that. “We argue, spar, but actually fight? Not anymore.”
 
Ishida asked, “What changed?”
 
“It was...counter-productive.” That was an understatement, a massive one, but it was all Ishida needed to know.
 
The conversation fell off again, until Ishida broke it with a question. “Why are you dressed in white?”
 
Ishida always had been unusually interested in clothes, it’s no wonder he cared enough to ask. Ichigo considered how to take the edge off his answer, and Zangetsu sniggered at the reminder of a fond memory. Ichigo said, “My shihakusho was bloody.”
 
Ishida asked, “Do I want to know why?”
 
“Probably not.”
 
That killed the conversation before it could start. Where once idle chatter would have filled the gap, there was silence. He had so little in common with his old friends, it was almost funny. Ishida had more to deal with than the average person, but he was preoccupied with school, his future. In a perfect world, Ishida wouldn’t need to be involved, but it was far too late for that.
 
They got to the training ground without another word being spoken. Ichigo spent that time thinking. His control was shit, his self loathing was unbearably high, and he was all too use to throwing himself into danger, consequences be damned. That needed to stop, he couldn't let himself rely on Zangetsu every time he fucked up.
 
Zangetsu perched nearby to watch, close enough to intervene, but not so close that he would be in the way.
 
Ishida faced him, sensing his change in mood, and skipped the small talk. “Let's get started.” He pushed up his glasses, then crossed his arms. “Gather reishi.”
 
Ichigo reached out with his senses, and braced himself for a long, tedious round of training. He’d gotten a nap, he was only limited by how long Ishida would put up with him, because he wasn’t leaving until he knew he could control the flow of reiryoku in his own body. He didn’t care how unrealistic that goal was, he needed to be able to do it, so he would.
 
--- xxx ---

Guess what, the R’Lyehian means something in this chapter. Surprise lol

Translations

:

Alteza: High King

Die Königin: The Queen

Das Licht: The Light

El
corazón
de Alteza: The heart of Alteza
 
Thanks for reading guys!

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Dondochakka Birstanne
(deceased)
- Pesche Guatiche - Bawabawa
(deceased)

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Regret is a form of punishment itself.” -Nouman Ali Khan

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
Five days passed and there was no sign of Kurosaki. At least, he had the feeling it had been five days. Granted, that wasn't saying much given no one could sense the fucker’s reiatsu, and he just did whatever the hell he wanted. A stop by Szayel had revealed a garganta had deposited his ass back into the living world, but there was no sign of him since.
 
For future reference, Grimmjow noted just how skittish Szayel had been around him. That was new, but likely because of the fact he was the Espada closest to Kurosaki. In fact the scientist seemed more than a little relieved their king had disappeared, and Grimmjow couldn't hold it against him; Kurosaki was a monster.
 
When he asked how he knew Kurosaki wouldn't just open a garganta out of the range of his sensors, Szayel couldn't help but brag about his ability to track the visored. He wasn’t entirely sure the arrancar intended to give that information up or not, but despite his fear, he couldn’t seem to get over his overconfidence. He tried not to think of it as tattling, but it seemed like something Kurosaki ought to know.
 
He'd been curious and paid a visit to the dying arrancar Szayel had been picking apart, and was surprised to find he was perfectly fine. More than fine, the idiot seemed hell bent on being as obnoxious as possible, so he eagerly left him with Starrk.
 
Given that he and the girl wouldn't leave Starrk alone, he felt certain they were safe. After what happened to Szayel after they were harmed, pretty much every arrancar in Las Noches gave them a wide berth.
 
He could sense Harribel training with her old fraccion, noticing they had improved. Their reiatsu was closer to an Espada level, even without using Ayon.
 
If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure if he'd gotten any better. Trying to train against Kurosaki was like trying to chop down a mountain with a blunt hatchet. It was frustrating to know the gap between them was so large, Kurosaki could defeat him when he was half dead and worse without even trying.
 
He'd been thinking about the visored’s offer, agonizing over it, and the only thing holding him back was pride. He didn't give a damn about whatever potential risks might be involved, if it was worth doing, there was probably a risk attached.
 
Days had passed, and he was still no closer to an answer. He spent his time training with his old fraccion, but there was no challenge there, and he lost interest quickly.
 
He couldn't think of anyone he could spar with that didn't make him want to gut himself. He actually

missed

Kurosaki and his smug fucking face. Everyone else was boring, or weak. He missed the challenge, the thrill of a real threat.
 
Kurosaki delivered on that and then some. He might pull his punches so he didn't kill him, but he didn't treat him like he was weak, like he was trash. As much as he wanted to believe Kurosaki didn’t respect him, he did, fuck if he knew why. If their positions were reversed, he wouldn't have been half as lenient and patient.
 
His blood ran hot for the rush a real challenge gave him, and he found himself wandering. He was at the edge of Las Noches, in the ruins of his first fight with Kurosaki. This is where he’d been thoroughly beaten, where things had first changed.
 
He wanted a fight, but Kurosaki was nowhere to be found.
 
He stalked away, surprised at himself when his feet carried him towards the one arrancar he hated the most.
 
Ulquiorra had stopped to wait for him, hands in his pockets, regarding him with the same cold, distant gaze he’d come to expect. He’d seen him get annoyed and angry, but he’d never seen him actually express it. It made him wonder if the arrancar could actually feel anything at all.
 
The primera Espada asked, “What do you want?”
 
Grimmjow knew what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to ask for it. He planted his feet, glowering at Ulquiorra, and forced himself to speak. “Your Segunda Etapa...I want to see it again.”
 
Ulquiorra blinked, and turned away. “No.”
 
It was like a slap in the face, no matter how expected. Even asking had been a blow to his pride, but to not even be worth his time? He insisted, “I want to see it.”
 
Ulquiorra kept walking, his voice monotone. “You’re of no interest to me, Grimmjow.”
 
Grimmjow started after him, annoyed that he was going to have to chase after him if he wanted to continue talking; He thought the bastard might speak so quietly on purpose. “So why talk to me at all?”
 
“You’re White’s lapdog, aren’t you?”
 
Grimmjow bristled, grinding his teeth. “I ain’t his

pet

.”
 
“He keeps you close and assigns you tasks, how is that different?”
 
He kept his battered pride wrapped close, not thrilled about letting Ulquiorra step all over it. He growled, “f you won’t show me then tell me, if you broke your mask, how aren’t you dead?”
 
Ulquiorra paused. “Who’s to say I didn’t die?” He looked back, and even if his expression didn’t change; he had the feeling he was looking down on him. “Are you a coward, Grimmjow? Does the prospect of oblivion scare you? You fixate on life and death so much, it's a miracle you can function at all.”
 
Grimmjow said nothing, not humoring him with an over defensive remark; he knew the bastard was waiting for it.
 
Ulquiorra continued, “I have a feeling achieving segunda etapa is different for every arrancar.”
 
“Why tell me that?”
 
“White would prefer you strong, wouldn’t he?”
 
Grimmjow studied his expression, but it was as unreadable as always. They both turned away, the rhythm of their footsteps clashing in tempo. Grimmjow prowled away with purpose, and Ulquiorra stepped with the calm ease of someone with nowhere to go and all the time in the world to get there.
 
Ulquiorra strongly implied he'd died to obtain his power. If he hadn't died, then something close to it must have happened. He’d just seen what happened to an arrancar when it's mask was broken, and he didn't want to end up like that. It was the equivalent of slitting his wrists, he wasn't a suicidal maniac, he wanted to live.
 
--- xxx ---

“I leave you alone for a few days and you get this lazy?”
 
Ichigo’s voice at his back startled him, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He stopped himself from spinning around like a disturbed cat, knowing that was the exact reaction Kurosaki was fishing for. He turned slowly, bristling. “Why do you have to

do

that?!”
 
Kurosaki smirked, “Just to keep you on your toes.”
 
“Where have you been?” Immediately after Grimmjow said it, he wished he'd chosen his words wore carefully. He sounded like a worried housewife.
 
Kurosaki’s smirk widened, his tone mocking. “What, did you miss me?”
 
“No!” He answered too quickly, and the visored noticed.
 
Kurosaki lifted a brow in surprise, shifting his weight as he regarded him more closely. “Did you really?”
 
Grimmjow’s scowl deepened. “You’re the only fucking person in this place I can actually fight, don't get the wrong idea.”
 
Kurosaki’s expression shifted to one of apology. “Ah, sorry. I'll make it up to you.” What he said didn't match his body language. He was looking elsewhere, eyes unfocused.
 
The Espada asked, “So what do you want?”
 
The visored glanced at him, and Grimmjow could see the other debate lying. He was an awful liar, but knowing he was lying never did get him any closer to the truth when he decided to do it. Kurosaki said, “You're coming with me.”
 
Grimmjow was feeling belligerent. He challenged, “Is that an order?”
 
“Yes.” From the look on the visored’s face, the other already knew he would agree, but was as ready as always to quash rebellion.
 
Grimmjow slumped, shoving his hands into his pockets. Sure, he’d do what he wanted, he was too curious to start a fight.
 
Kurosaki blurred into sonido, and Grimmjow had to fight to keep up. He knew the visored was going slow for his sake, which annoyed him beyond belief, but when he couldn’t even sense his reiatsu, it was the only way he wouldn’t be left standing clueless and alone in the desert.
 
He didn’t need to chase him for long, he realized where they were headed quickly enough. He picked up more than a handful of reiatsu signatures with his pesquisa, Loly among them. He was more than curious now, he was invested. What would Loly be doing with this many adjuchas?
 
Then he recalled what Loly had told him. She must have meant adjuchas when she said ‘few’, but why Kurosaki ordered her to gather them was the real mystery. It wasn't like the visored shared his thoughts.
 
Kurosaki stopped not far off, and every adjuchas present gave him their full attention. They stood hunched, defensive, their attention shifting from Kurosaki, to himself. Clearly the lack of reiatsu was throwing them for a loop. For reasons Grimmjow didn’t bother to identify, it bothered him that they didn’t immediately comprehend just how deadly Kurosaki could be.
 
Grimmjow stood just behind him, but held his tongue.
 
Loly stepped forward, crossing the dunes until she was nearly within arm’s reach of Kurosaki. She was scared, he could smell it on her, but she hid it pretty well for a weakling.
 
She held her chin up, lifting her hand to her hip in strained nonchalance. “These adjuchas are interested, if you can do what you promise.”
 
Kurosaki inclined his head, those sharp looking horns angled at her throat. Grimmjow didn’t think the threat was intentional, but Loly tensed nonetheless. The visored’s tone was flat. “I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t deliver on it.”
 
The woman swallowed, then said, “You should know...they say hollows have been disappearing. They aren’t being consumed, they’re just gone without a trace. It’s odd.”
 
Kurosaki scanned the adjuchas thoughtfully. “That might be important. Thank you.”
 
She flushed, seemingly furious she was being thanked at all. She fidgeted, but didn’t get to speak before Kurosaki stepped around her. “Which of you wants to be the first?”
 
From the way they were situated, the one that was most likely their unappointed alpha stepped forward, a more birdlike adjuchas.
 
It was far taller than Kurosaki, it had to bend over to get to his level. It’a voice was rather deep, but it had the voice of a woman. “You expect me to believe

you

are the king of Las Noches?”
 
Kurosaki didn't move, his tone carefully neutral. “I don't expect anything of you, I rule nothing but Las Noches, I don't know you.”
 
Grimmjow remembered the way he could manipulate the very sand and silently called bullshit. But...If it boiled down to a king and his subjects, he supposed Kurosaki was right, he offered no protection to those outside of its walls. Recalling the times Kurosaki had been wandering the halls soaked in blood was enough of a reminder that the visored was more ruthless than he appeared.
 
The bird-like adjuchas growled, “How can something so weak rule so many?”
 
Kurosaki sighed, and both he and Loly braced themselves, sensing his annoyance. The visored dropped his reiatsu, the adjuchas present crumpling to the ground.
 
The alpha of their group stared up at Kurosaki in abject terror, something Grimmjow found immensely satisfying, even as he struggled to stand himself. Maybe it was because here was undeniable proof that he didn’t bend for anyone short of a monster. Kurosaki had his position because he

deserved

it.
 
Kurosaki didn’t let up on his power, he crouched to get to her level. “I’m not doing this because I need you. I want you on my side.
 
She said, “Forgive me for not believing that the king of Hueco Mundo would be so altruistic.” Grimmjow was almost impressed she managed to speak without letting the strain color her tone.
 
Grimmjow couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the smirk in Kurosaki's voice. “Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not doing this solely for your sake.”
 
“Then why?”
 
“If you fear regression, all you'll do is consume each other, and Hueco Mundo will always be in a state of chaos. I'm going to change that.”
 
Grimmjow hadn't realized how idealistic Kurosaki was. Personally, he looked out for himself, everyone else be damned. He wanted to be king, but king of what? He'd never stopped to consider it.
 
Kurosaki continued, “Do you wish to be free?”
 
“Does this not come at a price? Do you not expect loyalty in return?”
 
“No. I told you what I want. I don't need you, but if you wish to join me in Las Noches, you wouldn't be turned away. The choice is yours. Should you change your mind, you're also free to leave.” He warned, “But know what while you have my protection within Las Noches, that ends the moment you leave my rule.”
 
Kurosaki straightened, the weight of his reiatsu abruptly lifting. His tone was harsh and unyielding. “Decide.”
 
The adjuchas straightened, none privy to their thoughts behind their masks. The bird hollow finally spoke. “If you do succeed in completing my evolution, you’ll have my loyalty, White.” The others stepped back, distancing themselves from her choice, but remained to watch in tense silence.
 
Kurosaki reached out with a hand, but let her be the one to decide to close the gap. “I need to touch your mask. This will be unpleasant, but bare with it.”
 
She crouched, lowering a long, arched neck so her mask was pressed to his palm.
 
Grimmjow stepped back, his instincts railing against him for no visible reason. The sand at Kurosaki’s feet rippled, darkness pooling around him. It flowed gently for a moment, then seized at the same moment the bird adjuchas started to scream.
 
It was a wretched sound, full of all the emptiness every hollow knew and understood. She twisted and shivered, but Kurosaki’s grip was firm, he didn't even budge.
 
Slowly, darkness bubbled from the cracks in her mask, surging over her until she was consumed by it. It grew thicker, violent, surging around the pair in a viscous torrent.
 
Kurosaki suddenly let go, breathing heavily, clenching his hand into a fist. The darkness seeped back into the sand like waves on the shore, leaving in its wake a naked woman. She was curled up on her side, shivers rolling through her back and shoulders. Long, white hair was sprawled over and around her, concealing her face.
 
Saying nothing, Kurosaki proceeded to strip out of his kosode. He crouched by her, draping it over her shoulders. She accepted it without complaint, struggling to sit upright. She reached for her face, her fingertips trailing along the edge of her mask, tracing the teeth and the curve of what was left of a beak. Half of her face was concealed in the fragments of her mask, her hollow hole remaining in the middle of her chest.
 
Kurosaki picked up a sheathed sword on the sand beside her, handing it to her. She accepted it with barely concealed reverence. She whispered, “Shirasagi…” as she held it to her chest. She bit her lip to hold back what Grimmjow expected were tears.
 
He couldn’t judge her for them, it was a painfully liberating feeling to be free from the constant hunger and fear. No doubt she’d expected an elaborate trick, or even a trap. To simply be given what she wanted with no strings attached was unheard of in Hueco Mundo. If Kurosaki was fishing for loyalty, this was a sure fire way to get it.
 
She doubled over in a low bow, her hair cascading over her shoulders to the sand, sword still clutched to her chest. “Heika...You have my sword, and you have my loyalty, for as long as I live.”
 
Kurosaki straightened, gesturing for her to stand, even if she couldn't see it. “Get up, I've never liked formality.” She stood, legs shaky, and Grimmjow could see the admiration and awe in her eyes. Intentionally or not, Kurosaki had her hooked. “So long as you serve me, your enemies are mine.”
 
Grimmjow found it curious that statement wasn't reversed. Weren't Kurosaki's enemies

their

enemy by extension? He felt the visored had deliberately avoided saying so.
 
Kurosaki’s attention shifted to the rest of the adjuchas, and they seemed just as awe struck as their unofficial leader. He said, “If you decide to join her, it'll have to wait. One a day seems to be my limit. I’ll be back tomorrow.” If there were any complaints, none of the adjuchas were bold enough to voice them. He looked to Loly. “Show her back.”
 
Loly snapped, “What makes you think I'm going back?”
 
Kurosaki’s tone had a layer of faux confusion. “Was I mistaken?”
 
Loly flushed, and gave the new arrancar a solid shove between the shoulder blades towards Las Noches as she stomped past.
 
Kurosaki chided. “

Try

not to be a bitch.”
 
Grimmjow heard her mutter something like ‘go fuck yourself’, but Kurosaki didn’t react, he only rolled his eyes. He supposed the best thing to come from this exchange of power was that Kurosaki gave a shit about their opinions, he didn’t shield his ego from insults.
 
At first Grimmjow saw it as a weakness that he wouldn’t punish that sort of behavior, but he began to see it differently. Insults really did appear to bounce off of him, there were only a few things that truly seemed to get under his skin; Szayel, touching him, and using his real name.
 
Kurosaki glanced back at Grimmjow in silent invitation, then stepped into sonido. Grimmjow followed, surprised he was heading away from Las Noches. He didn’t go far, he only put enough distance between him and any living thing so he was out of casual sensing distance.
 
The instant Kurosaki stopped, he dropped his hollowfication. His hair became shorter, his hollow hole vanished, he appeared to be a normal shinigami once again. Lines of light streaked along his skin, glowing faintly, but even those began to fade. The visored answered his unasked questions. “I’m new to this, it’s hard to do when I’m hollowfied.”
 
Grimmjow had the sense he was underestimating what had happened; he could see the tremor in Kurosaki’s hands even from where he was standing. He asked, “Why bring me out here at all? You seem to have this shit handled.”
 
Kurosaki flexed his hand, frowning down at it, then shifted his eyes to Grimmjow’s. Even when he wasn’t hollowfied, the severity of his attention always made Grimmjow tense. The visored said, “I wanted you to see what it was like.”
 
“...Okay, I saw. So what?”
 
Kurosaki’s eyes narrowed. “It’ll be worse.”
 
Grimmjow bared his teeth in a snarl. “So what? Pain isn’t a consequence.”
 
The hybrid closed the distance between them, and at the look on his face, Grimmjow had to fight to keep from running. Lashing out wouldn’t work, and that only left flight. He took a step back, but too slowly. He sucked in a breath in shock when the other thrust his hand through his hollow hole. It wasn’t pain he felt, it was the deep, cold reminder that he was

less

.
 
Grimmjow jerked back, grasping Kurosaki’s wrist in a futile attempt to force him to back off. The visored suddenly had his hand around Grimmjow’s throat, his grip only tight enough to hold him in place. Grimmjow panicked, tying and failing to keep it from his face. His helplessness surfaced in rage, abandoning his grip on Kurosaki’s wrist to grasp Pantera.
 
Kurosaki made no move to stop him, his expression just as calm as it had been when their eyes met. “Grimmjow, I know how wrong this feels, how badly you want to deny what you’ve lost...If I help you, it will be so much worse. I want you to understand just what it is I’m offering you. It’s more than pain, or power, you’ll be as close as you can be to becoming whole.”
 
Grimmjow’s grip on Pantera tightened, but he didn’t draw it. It was a comfort, more than anything, he knew he couldn’t hurt the visored. He warned, “Kurosaki…”
 
“Of every hollow I’ve ever killed, I’ve never seen one struggle to live as much as you.” The visored let him go, taking a calculated step back. The other drew his hand back, and Grimmjow shivered in distaste at the feeling that lingered in its wake.
 
Kurosaki pretended not to notice the tremble in Grimmjow’s hands, or the fear in his eyes. “There’s the very real possibility this could kill you. If you reject yourself, you’ll die. This will put you on the very brink of life and death.”
 
Grimmjow hissed, “I didn’t agree to anything, you’re making assumptions.”
 
“You decided days ago, you’ve only spent this time trying to talk yourself out of it.”
 
Fuck him, he wasn’t wrong, and that pissed the Espada off. He clenched his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. He scowled at Kurosaki and demanded, “Why can’t you leave well enough alone?”
 
The visored’s lips stretched into an easy smile. “Ah, that’s a good question.” He took a step closer, prompting Grimmjow to take a small step back. “I had a lot of help--shortcuts and small miracles. I really shouldn’t be alive...I see all the worst parts of myself in you, that’s the truth of it. I want you to live, I want you to be strong. Does the why really matter?”
 
Grimmjow shouted, “It does!” The intensity of his own answer surprised him, but now that the words had left his mouth, he found they were true. He needed to know why he gave a shit, he didn’t understand.
 
Kurosaki blinked and leaning back. He lifted his hand to his head, raking his fingers through his hair. He let out an annoyed sound, looking up. Even outside of his hollow form, his hair was almost past his shoulders. He looked different, but he was the same. Kurosaki’s voice was light, falsely saccharine to the point that even Grimmjow could tell. “It’s kind of pathetic, I’m sure you’ll think less of me for it...I’m lonely. It’s not complicated.”
 
Grimmjow balked. “What do you mean? You’re not alone, you have the Espada, the arrancar, your stupid human and shinigami friends-

you’re lonely

-what does that even

mean

?”
 
Kurosaki looked back at him, not bothered by his tone. He answered ruefully. “I’m king. You fear me, all of you do. You should, I’ve given you no reason not to.” He gestured vaguely at the desert and the very dunes shifted gently at his will. “I’m bound to this fucking monster because I’m stronger than you,

all

of you. You can’t even sense me, it’s like I don’t exist, this isn’t even my time...”
 
He scoffed derisively, cutting himself off mid rant. He looked back at the Espada, burying whatever emotion he’d et surface, no matter how briefly. “I didn’t bring you out here to

whine

at you. I see potential in you, Grimmjow, but I won’t lie and say that my reasons for wanting to invest in it aren’t personal. It’s your choice. I know you want power, but do you trust me...do you trust yourself?”
 
Grimmjow wasn’t sure he understood Kurosaki’s reasoning, but he wanted what he had to offer. He wanted it badly. He swore, dropping his hand from his sword. “Yes.” Kurosaki leveled him with a challenging glare, and he reaffirmed, “Yes...if you can do it, then do it.”
 
Kurosaki stepped closer again, and Grimmjow stiffened. “Right now? I thought you said you couldn't do it twice?”
 
“Getting cold feet?”
 
Grimmjow deflected. “You gonna answer me?”
 
Kurosaki let out a soft exhale. “I lied a little. I don't see why I should intentionally weaken myself if there's no rush. You're different. You're an investment, not charity. Not to mention this process is different, it relies more on you than anything I’m going to do.”
 
Grimmjow hissed out a breath. “Fine, whatever. Do it.” What did he care if Kurosaki wanted to cut the legs out from under himself?
 
Kurosaki lifted a hand, his palm hovering just before Grimmjow’s face. “What I said to her applies to you; this is going to hurt.”
 
Grimmjow glared at him from between stretched fingers. “Think I’m scared of a little pain?”
 
Kurosaki’s expression fell. “Pain of the heart, Grimmjow.” The Espada had nothing more to say on that.
 
The visored let out a slow breath, then closed his eyes.
 
Grimmjow tensed in anticipation, his instincts urging him to run, but he held himself in place. The sudden shock of pain through his soul made him gasp, then he was jerked down into unconsciousness.
 
There was only darkness and pain. He was wrong, it wasn’t unconsciousness, it was merely a formless prison inside his own mind. He couldn’t move, or scream or fight, he just had to suffer the agony of the deepening chasm in his chest. He could only wait in horror as it threatened to consume him.
 
Kurosaki’s voice echoed in his mind, thick with disappointment. “Is that all...I thought you were a fighter?”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes flew open, taking in the darkness of Hueco Mundo. He rolled to his side to push himself up, and found he was staring down into cracked glass...no, a window. He took stock of his surroundings again, panicking, and found he was on the edge of a skyscraper, one of hundreds. He noticed something else was wrong, the sand wasn’t white, it was black, the light glinting off the dunes too sharply to be sand.
 
“You’re in my inner world.”
 
Grimmjow was on his feet and in a crouch, whirling to face the voice. Kurosaki stood not far away at the edge of the building. He noticed that some distance to his left was his monochrome doppleganger. Even farther away was a stranger, a man in a cloak. The visored said, “Ignore them, you’re not here for them.”
 
Grimmjow demanded, “Then what am I here for?”
 
“You.”
 
“What the fuck does that mean?!” Grimmjow struggled through the ache in his chest. It had dulled, but the pain was still going strong.
 
Ichigo raised his hand in front of him, palm down. As he did, darkness rose from the shattered glass, rising and congealing as it took form. Grimmjow reached for his sword, fear singing in his bones when his hand closed around air. Pantera was gone.
 
He looked down, he had to, and Ichigo chided. “Where are you looking, Grimmjow? Pantera is here.”
 
Grimmjow whipped his head back around to Kurosaki, eyes widening as the darkness began to take a form he recognized. Blue eyes burned from the darkness that began to drip away, revealing an armored adjuchas cat beneath. He’d never gotten a good look at himself from the outside as an adjuchas, but he knew he was staring at himself.
 
Kurosaki blurred into shunpo, leaving Grimmjow to face himself alone.
 
The cat adjuchas whipped its tail, baring its teeth in a snarl. “Look at yourself.

You’re a coward

.” The insult was spoken in derision and disappointment. “Do you remember your regrets, Grimmjow?”
 
Grimmjow was struck by the question. How could he remember? No one remembered their life before they died,

no one

. He relied on what he knew best; violence.
 
He leapt forward, clenching his hand into a fist. He threw a punch, his reiatsu fired from his fist in a bala.
 
The burst scorched the surface of the building, but as the smoke cleared, the jaguar was gone. Teeth sunk into his shoulder and he whipped his arm around to hit it, reaching with his other hand to grasp its head.
 
The jaguar’s perched on his back, sinking its teeth in deeper with a rolling growl. Grimmjow tightened his fingers around its muzzle, squeezing as hard as he could manage. He tried to dig his fingers into its eyes, but it simply closed them, shaking its head and wrenching its teeth in his shoulder. Grimmjow grit his teeth through the pain, gathering his reiatsu for another bala.
 
The cat spoke again in his mind, a gnarled version of his own voice.

“I know you feel it.”

Fury flashed through him. “I don't remember!”

“You do. It dictates every action, it colors every word you speak.”

“Speak sense!” He lost his concentration and he couldn't tear its teeth free, so he threw himself back, intent on slamming the cat into the ground. The instant before he hit, teeth ripped from his shoulder and he ended up on his back, temporarily free from its claws.
 
He grunted and rolled to his feet, bending low defensively. The cat was on him in a heartbeat, jaws snapping. Grimmjow dodged, jerking out of reach, frustrated that all he could do was run.
 
The cat spoke in his mind again, voice surprisingly calm compared to the violence of its actions.

“The details don't matter, your past is done and over with, but your heart hasn't let go. I know you feel the regret of broken promises and betrayal. Why do you claw your way to the top, what's so awful about being weak?”

“Shut up!” Grimmjow shouted, barely managing to pull his arm away out of reach of the cat’s jaws. The pain of that first attack on top of the pressure in his chest was all too distracting and it was slowing him down. The cat was focusing on his injured side, and the click of its teeth were getting closer and closer to rending flesh.
 
The cat’s voice infiltrated his mind again.

“Tell me what you fear. Acknowledge it!”

Its jaws clamped shut like a bear trap on his forearm, yanking him forward and within reach. It split its jaws wide again and leapt for his throat.
 
Grimmjow staggered back, raising his arms too slowly. He felt teeth slice through his neck, its weight flattening him against the cracked glass of the building. He went still out of pure instinct, and the cat held firm, blood pooling hotly on his skin and the hollow of his throat.
 
He felt something grasp hold of all the pain, anger and regret he felt coiled in his chest, and it twisted. He begged, “Stop-” It sounded even more pathetic than he'd feared, and the cat only tightened its jaws in response, cutting off anything he might say.
 
He pushed up against the cat, fingers grasping at the plates of armor in vain. Why was he losing? Why?! This cat was him, he should be able to at least beat himself, shouldn't he?
 
His vision started to go dark, every breath growing more and more difficult to draw. The more darkness that crept into his vision, the more his chest ached. He could no longer tell if it was out of heartache or lack of oxygen, he was merely afraid.

“You want to be strong? Face it.”

--- xxx ---

He blinked against the sun, confused by the sudden lack of darkness. He was in a city... maybe. Things were blurred, faded, motion passing in unfocused blurs around him. “What is this?”

‘This is the moment of your death. You never forgot, no hollow could, it’s the center of who you are.’

The shadows stuttered and took form, yet he still couldn’t make out what he was looking at. The physical pain he felt before was gone, a new pain taking its place. He reached for his stomach, shocked to find his hollow hole was gone. Instead his hand was wet, blood pooling between his fingers. What?
 
He looked down, taking his hand away to study the glisten of blood. This ache in his chest, was this regret? Why, why

why

? He looked up and he saw himself, mirroring the shock of his own reaction. He was shot, he remembered-how could he have ever forgotten? Who shot him? He couldn’t remember.
 
He
 
Couldn’t
 
Remember
 
Someone was standing in front of his vision of himself. He stepped closer, trying to make out their face. He was close enough to touch them, but their identity escaped him. He was afraid, and it made him set his jaw in frustration.

‘You don’t want to remember. You’ve always known.’

He saw his other self fall to his knees in his peripheral, but he didn’t turn to look, he was still studying the man before him.
 
No...No, no, no, Arturo.
 
He was too weak, he’d let him down. This was long since done and over with. There was nothing he could do for him anymore, but the regret still stung so sharply. Arturo was the one that held the gun, but the one who’d really pulled the trigger...
 
Arturo came into focus, tears gathering in his eyes. How could he have forgotten that look? That look of absolute horror. Then he was gone, running. He disappeared from his memories, turning to look down at himself, facedown in a growing puddle of blood.
 
He felt the fire of bloodlust spread with the pain, growing stronger the closer he came to death. He’d wanted to kill the people that caused this, the people that stole Arturo’s life. He’d nearly skipped entirely over being a plus, he’d come back just in time to watch his friend spiral into despair. He’d become a hollow, hungry for vengeance, and in his desire for violence, he’d killed the one person he’d wanted to avenge.
 
He stared down at himself, brows furrowed in pain. “If I was strong, this wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have happened...He’d still be alive.”

‘All you can do is accept it and move forward. Can you accept it?’

“What are you?”

“Your regret, your despair, your fury; you.’

Accept it...he’d won a fight, and it had cost both him and his friend their lives. He had the vague memory of beating the fuck out of someone, enjoying the fact he was refusing to go down over a rigged fight. His pride started all of this, but did he regret it? His obsession with winning was no less now than it had been when he’d been so blissfully ignorant. Arturo had done what he had to to survive, and without realizing, Grimmjow had followed in his footsteps, without even remembering his name.
 
Could he accept this? He thought he hadn’t blamed him, but the pain of his betrayal had the slow burn of regret had made him destroy the things he gave a shit about.
 
“How do I accept it?”
 
“You already are. Do you regret what you’ve become?”
 
It was never about the money, it was about winning, about earning respect. His fists and his pride earned him a bullet and an afterlife full of regret. But would he do it again differently?
 
His answer was succinct, confident. “No.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
He kept bleeding, there’s was too much blood. Even from the distance he was at, it shimmered in the darkness under the moon. Grimmjow hadn’t moved, and neither had the cat. Too much time was passing, he was getting nervous, but there was nothing he could do.
 
He paced, Zangetsu’s voice startling him. “He’ll be fine.”
 
“What makes you so sure?”
 
Zangetsu kicked a foot that dangled over the edge of the building, staring up at the sky. “He wants to live. Does there need to be another reason?”
 
Ichigo kept pacing, looking from his hand, and the blut vene scrawled over his skin, back to Grimmjow’s prone form. The darkness was still permeating every aspect of his physical being, so when he died, he felt it ripple through his entire soul. He stiffened, Zangetsu sitting up in shock. The three of them stared over at Grimmjow, and the cat was gone.
 
He was dead.
 
He let out a slow, steadying breath. He extended his senses, holding back any panic until he was sure.
 
Seconds passed.
 
There was still something. Reiatsu, dim, but there.
 
His brows furrowed in concern, taking a small step forward.
 
Reiatsu flooded from Grimmjow in torrents, and he let out a sharp breath in relief. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was back outside of his body. Reiatsu swirled around Grimmjow in blue streaks like lightning, far more powerful than anything he’d felt from Grimmjow before.
 
He felt something similar when Ulquiorra ascended to his Segunda Etapa. His reiatsu was heavier, solid, vast.
 
It swirled in closer, closer, until it settled over his skin.
 
Grimmjow wasn’t in his resurreccion form, this was something different.
 
This looked close to his resurrection, but it was wilder, sharper. His claws were longer, black fur racing up his arms, streaked with teal stripes. His tail was just as long, if not longer, coiling around him like a snake. His feet were clawed much like Ulquiorra, near talons sinking into the sand. The armor he wore like a second skin was segmented with rivers of black, every inch of the Espada a bladed weapon. It seemed fitting, that someone so aggressive would be so inherently adamant that others stay away.
 
His mask was gone, his hair streaked back from his face in wild abandon, blue streaked with black. The lines of where his mask had been were marked on his face in thick black lines, blue eyes even more startling against them.
 
Grimmjow looked to Ichigo and smiled, flashing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. “Well, looks like I ain’t dead after all.”
 
Ichigo couldn’t help but flash a cocky smile back at him, relieved he was alive, that he’d finally made progress. “You came damn close.” He reached back for Zangetsu. Ready for a test run?”
 
Grimmjow laughed, the sound full of giddy exhilaration. “Like I would let you refuse.” Grimmjow blurred out of sight, the sand displaced from the mere power behind his sudden movement. He was so much faster than before.
 
With Ichigo’s body strained from keeping such a tight grip on blut vene, he was more sluggish than usual. He drew his sword and blocked his fraccion’s attack, his expression a mirror of Grimmjow’s. “

Finally

.” He’d been waiting for this for days, he never thought he’d get to see it so soon.
 
They exchanged a frantic, quick series of blows, and Ichigo found he’d already drawn his other sword. He hadn’t even thought about it, it simply felt right. This fight wasn’t about training, survival, dominance, it was purely for the joy of it.

--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading guys!

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Dondochakka Birstanne
(deceased)
- Pesche Guatiche - Bawabawa
(deceased)

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“They sicken of the calm who know the storm.” -Dorothy Parker

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow

4 months later

The Espada were used to Kurosaki doing weird shit, but this was deeply worrying. He'd been completely unresponsive for over a day now, and those whispers he always bitched about hovered around him like fog. They’d never been able to hear them before, but now that they were audible, he wished they weren’t. If this is what he heard all the time, he was surprised he hadn’t gone mad.
 
He was was Kurosaki’s fraccion, he supposed he had an excuse to linger, but it was unsettling enough to draw the attention of most arrancar. Kurosaki stood in a completely irrelevant hallway in Las Noches, inky darkness swirling around his feet. If anyone attempted to get close, it reacted violently, and any grand ideas to try to touch him to get his attention died before anyone was willing to really try.
 
Szayel had informed Harribel who had in turn informed him that ever since this happened, it was impossible to get a reading on any part of Hueco Mundo, all of his sensors were going haywire. This led them all to believe that whatever was going on involved Alteza, and all of Hueco Mundo. This didn’t seem like a good thing, but they were stuck waiting.
 
As he leaned there against the wall, Grimmjow couldn't be certain, but it seemed like the hallway was wider. Whatever Kurosaki was doing, he was subconsciously pushing the walls away from him.
 
Besides himself, the only other person who had consistently hung around was the new arrancar, Thera. She stood around at the brink of the whispers, alternating between pacing and simply staring. Just watching her gave him anxiety, it irritated him to no end that she wouldn’t sit still. Or maybe it was that she’d become unbearably clingy ever since Kurosaki had made her an arrancar.
 
The darkness and the whispers cut off so abruptly, the sudden silence made his ears ring. After hours of nothing, he was startled when Kurosaki finally moved. The visored staggered, catching himself in a crouch on one hand. “

Bitch

,” he snarled under his breath. Kurosaki was breathing hard as he straightened, his attention on something out of sight, something Grimmjow couldn’t sense or see.
 
Kurosaki lifted his arm, turning his palm up above his head, and the ceiling flowed back like water. He parted every floor between him and the outside. The hole he’d made widened, and as he looked up, it became clear what he was doing. He was eroding the dome, and whatever Kidou had been used to create the false sky. For a moment light shone down through the floors, but then it faded to the cool light of the moon.
 
Thera was new to this level of Kurosaki’s bullshit, as were the other arrancar that had happened to be there, but that didn’t stop them from rapidly backing up. Kurosaki dropped his arm, but the dome kept eroding as he turned away.
 
Kurosaki’s other half materialized behind him, looking far from thrilled. The doppelganger disappeared in a buzz of sonido without so much as a wisecrack while Kurosaki leveled an order at Thera. “I need to speak with Harribel.”
 
The woman was gone the instant she was sure he needed nothing else, and then Grimmjow found himself the center of Kurosaki’s focus. He blinked, and the visored was suddenly inches away. Grimmjow flinched, and Kurosaki was speaking before he'd had time to catch up. “Take Ulquiorra with you and go.” He pointed to his right. “See how far you can make it before you can't continue.”
 
Grimmjow started. “What do you m-”
 
“

What I said

,” he snapped. “Go as far as you can, you two are the fastest. You're scouting in my place.”
 
There was a strained edge to Kurosaki’s voice, but from the way he was talking, this seemed time sensitive, so he didn’t press for details.
 
Kurosaki raised his hand, then curled it into a fist. Darkness coalesced beside him, and Ulquiorra staggered, taking in his surroundings with wide eyes. The visored didn’t apologize when he turned to the Espada, but he did look a touch sympathetic. “It was necessary. You’re scouting with Grimmjow, he’ll fill you in.” Grimmjow could have laughed, there was just about nothing to tell.
 
Kurosaki lifted a hand, darkness converging around both him and Ulquiorra. The primera seemed to accept it, and Grimmjow tried not to panic. Kurosaki looked a bit apologetic, but that didn’t stop Grimmjow from feeling the deep discomfort of something that shouldn’t exist crawling over his soul. The visored warned, “Be careful.”
 
The darkness swallowed them both, it swarmed over his skin and into his being, yanking him down, in every direction. It rankled his nerves to feel something so wrong so close, but as quickly as it invaded his space, it receded. It dropped them some undetermined distance from Las Noches into the sand, Grimmjow managed to stay on his feet while Ulquiorra fell to a knee.
 
On another day he might have mocked the primera for it, but for the time being, he could only imagine how awful that must feel. Personally, he was struggling not to vomit or collapse, there was a tremble in his limbs he couldn’t will away. Kurosaki had no goddamned idea how terrible that was. Still, he didn’t think he’d do it without good reason, and seeing him so frantic was...unsettling.
 
Grimmjow looked at Ulquiorra and tried for some diplomacy. “Can you stand?”
 
The primera looked at him, but made no move to get up. “In a moment.”
 
After Ulquiorra composed himself, he stood, reaching for his sword. Grimmjow gave him a sidelong look and the primera explained himself. “Time appears to be of the essence.”
 
Grimmjow had to admit he wasn’t wrong. They both entered resurreccion, then shot off at a breakneck pace, running towards nothing in particular. Without stars it might appear difficult to navigate, but the moon never moved from where it hung over the horizon. Grimmjow knew where Kurosaki had pointed. He wasn’t stupid, he could at least go the direction he’d been told.
 
He caught Ulquiorra up to speed as they ran, having no trouble working with the arrancar, it was sparring with him and being forced to interact with him as a person that rubbed his fur the wrong way.
 
They only had to run for an hour before they both had to stop. Even Ulquiorra seemed at a loss for words.
 
Grimmjow growled, “What the fuck are we looking at?”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Ichigo stood beneath the gap he’d opened to the sky, feeling much more at ease when he could see the starless abyss. Under different circumstances, seeing Alteza might be a painful reminder, but now it was merely a visual reminder of what stood between him and die Königin. He waited for Harribel in silence, and every moment stretched for an eternity.
 
He could feel all of el sangre straining against das licht. It pressured the edge of their world and called on nearly all of his attention. He had no idea how long it had been, but it had been a struggle of endurance to simply hold her back.
 
He knew it was a her, the previous host had warned him, but even if he hadn't, the little contact he'd had from das Licht proved it. He didn’t know her name or what she looked like, but he knew she was powerful.
 
Alteza was doing most of the work, but apparently it called on his own ability to direct it. He could feel her pressuring the borders and limits of his control, searching for weakness. He got the impression she wasn't giving it her all, that this sudden assault was merely a distraction.
 
It was working.
 
The extent that he was using el sangre spurred his Blut Vene to react instinctively, and it was a complicated balancing act to keep himself functioning. He had no idea how long he'd been standing there locked in his own inner conflict, but he couldn't keep that up forever. That he was moving at all was due to the fact Alteza had finally lessened the burden, realizing his limits.
 
Zangetsu hadn't wanted to leave him alone while his attention was so divided, but he needed his hollow to act in his place. When Alteza wasn’t allowing him anywhere near a potential threat, Zangetsu was the only other option, especially since he could communicate with him quickly and instantly. With the strain he was already under, for once he wasn’t too put out over Alteza’s insistence he keep at a distance.
 
The moment Harribel was within speaking distance, he opened his eyes and gestured for her to follow him. The arrancar stragglers didn’t need to hear this. In fact, he’d rather none of them know, not even the Espada or Harribel, but he was just one person, he couldn’t do everything on his own.
 
He jumped up to the roof of Las Noches, watching as the last vestiges of the dome crumbled back into dust. He hadn’t liked it to begin with, but now it simply couldn’t be allowed to exist, not when it did nothing but add to her power.
 
Harribel stood close by and said nothing, she merely waited for him to explain.
 
Ichigo turned his eyes skyward again, sensing Alteza’s agitation, if he could even call it an emotion at all. “Someone is pressuring Hueco Mundo, they’re trying to destroy it.”
 
Harribel was usually composed, but he heard a sliver of apprehension in her voice. “Destroy it...How is that possible?”
 
“Alteza is darkness, die Königin is the light. They’re monsters, maybe even Gods, who the fuck knows, but they can’t interfere without a host. Alteza’s last host died, leaving Hueco Mundo vulnerable.”
 
He resisted the urge to sigh, sitting down where he stood. He’d been so careful not to show weakness, but now he was being forced to slip around yet another person. “This happened years ago, and every year that passed resulted in more power for her, and less for us. Now she’s taking advantage of it.”
 
He leaned forward on his knees, and she ventured, “This other host...whatever they’ve been doing, they haven’t stopped, have they?”
 
“No, and I’m going to need to sleep soon.” He closed his eyes, turning his senses to el sangre. His control was muted, distant, but still firm. Alteza wouldn’t let him mentally anywhere near her actual assault on the world, and Ichigo decided it must have done so out of self preservation of its host. If he was under this much strain from miles away, he didn’t want to know what it would be like if he was directly in front of her.
 
He said, “The silver lining in all of this is that if she feels the need to hammer my defenses from a distance, that means I’m a threat.”
 
“Do you know where she is?”
 
“No...yes...sort of.” He made an aggravated sound. “She’s hiding in Soul Society.”
 
“...I see.”
 
There was no practical way to invade without also being attacked by Soul Society. It was a shit position to be in, and he was too preoccupied now to even think about it.
 
He looked up at her. “This is taking a good deal of concentration, can I count on you to handle the rest?” He was bundling a whole lot in that statement; everything really.
 
She paced over to stand before him, then crouched so she was on his level. “You have a difficult time relying on others.” He winced, always ashamed when every time he was called out for it. “Of course I’l help you, we want the same things.”
 
She studied him and spoke carefully. “I’m still not sure I understand why you’re going to such lengths, but you’ve done much to help us, I’ve grown rather fond of you. If you need my help, you have it, White.” Out oh
 
Harribel got up, dipping her chin a fraction in a respectful goodbye. Ichigo returned it and said, “Don’t let anyone get close to me without explicit permission. I’m distracted, I don’t want Alteza to lash out on reflex and kill anyone.”
 
“Understood.” She turned, then paused, “Try to sleep, you can’t be perfect, no one expects you to be.”
 
She left and his mind wandered, comparing himself to Aizen once again. Aizen hadn't relied on anyone, and his existence had been a miserable, lonely one.
 
He didn't feel so lonely anymore.

Find anything, Zangetsu?

“Maybe.”

He paused, then asked,

“If the bitch can use light from Kidou, she should be able to use the light from the moon, right?”

Seems reasonable, but we've been over this.

Briefly, but they’d spoken about it. She was taking the light and using it to fuel her own power, but with an attack that was so sudden, he’d realized quickly she was using more than ambient moonlight to charge her power, she’d done something the instant she’d begun her assault on Hueco Mundo.

“Didn't Ulquiorra say there was something weird with the shadows in Soul Society?”

He said some of them contained reishi. It was likely traces from someone as powerful as I am, if it was that unfamiliar to him.

“Isn’t this bitch suppose to control light? How does she have access to the shadows?”

Maybe Ulquiorra didn’t understand what he was looking at?

It was hard to draw conclusions when he only had half of the picture. He’d been isolated in his own mind while he’d been fending off die Königin, this had been his first chance to really speak with his inner spirits and think.
 
He laid back, staring at the moon. In the fringes of his consciousness, there were places that simply ceased to exist. The more he thought about, the more it seemed like everything the light touched was invisible to him. He reached out for his surroundings and focused on reishi, drawing heavily on what Ishida had taught him.
 
He could still hear Ishida’s irritated instruction.

~“Focus, Kurosaki! It’s not reiatsu, it’s

reishi

. Stop using your own power, you need to leech energy from your surroundings. You’re taking, not giving.”~

Ichigo sat bolt upright. “Reishi!”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Reishi, the

reishi

is different.

He leaned on his Quincy abilities, which dampened his control on el sangre, but for the moment that was acceptable; he needed to know.
 
Much the same way he could feel the sands and the darkness shifting around him, he could feel the reishi within the air, the stone, and

the light.

“

Balance

, I get it.”

“King, explain.”

When I use el sangre, it doesn't behave like reiatsu, it doesn't return to me. Once I use el sangre, it changes, it becomes reishi.

He felt stupid for not noticing it sooner, Ishida would have noticed right off the bat, and he could only imagine his disappointment. It might account for why Hueco Mundo was so reishi dense. If two beings as powerful as Alteza were pitted against each other, even now the reishi concentration in Hueco Mundo would still be enormous. “Figures, the second I could use Ishida’s advice, I'm trapped here.”
 
Zangetsu announced, “

Found it

.” interrupting his thoughts.
 
“Destroy it.” It seemed such a redundant thing to say, Zangetsu was acting even as he spoke, he could feel it.
 
He didn’t need to see what Zangetsu saw to know what he’d discovered. There were blank spaces in his senses, like wells of light in the dark, and Zangetsu was seeking out and destroying them.
 
This so called queen hadn’t come here herself, she’d sent pillars to hold up her own power and make it stronger, but if they were destroyed, his defenses wouldn’t be so pitiful, and he wouldn’t be blindsided like this again.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Zangetsu
 
The sword that stuck from the sand before him was made of pure light, a construct of reishi. It illuminated the dark like a small sun, small arcs of light curling over the surface of the blade. All in all, it wasn’t too stable a thing, especially so far from its creator, but it was dense and so compact, an attack was meant to cause catastrophic destruction. Good thing that didn’t matter to him.
 
He drew the sword on his back, charging a getsuga, and loosed it at the sword. The backlash was intense, reishi cut his skin as it streaked past him. It hurt in a way, but once he returned to his wielder, any damage done would be gone, pain meant very little to him.

“That’s one down. Did it help?”

King answered, “

Immensely.”

After years spent knowing every little flicker of pain and emotion, being cut off from such a large part of his wielder was uncomfortable. Parts of King’s mind were simply off limits, not due in part to anything Kurosaki had done. He hated Alteza in a way King would never understand. He asked,

“How many more?”

“Eleven.”

Eleven of these were what was keeping King locked in his own subconscious. It had to have been a day, and in that span of time, he’d been furious. How dare that handsy sonuvabitch separate him from his wielder?!
 
King was his to protect, and he’d been taken away so easily. It was one thing to be suppressed by King, and another for his voice to fall short, to have to watch King suffer alone.
 
He might have had his ability to feel pain stolen away, but that didn’t apply to all levels of discomfort. He knew the panic that came hand in hand with losing control, how could he forget?

“Where’s the next one?”

King shared his vague mental directions and Zangetsu took off in that direction, eyes narrowed against the wind and cold determination.

--- xxx ---

Grimmjow

For a long moment, Grimmjow wasn’t sure if he was seeing something real or not. Stretching as far as he could see in both directions, was darkness. It was textureless, colorless, it was simply nothing, a void, it looked like the edge of the world.
 
Scattered within it were hundreds of eyes. They burned like the halo of a solar flare, their form hazy and incomplete, glowing so brightly in the darkness, he couldn’t look directly at it. The irises twitched, moving in snapping, tracking motions with no rhyme or reason Grimmjow could understand. He kept expecting them to look at him, but they looked through and past him, he was beneath their notice. He wasn’t sure if that was relief or if it pissed him off.
 
Ulquiorra took a step closer, looking down at the uneven line in the sand where the darkness cut through the desert. Dark fingers reached out in a spidery wave, clawing at his foot, and he took a swift step back. The primera looked up at the eyes. “I’ve never encountered anything like this before, have you?”
 
“The fuck do you think?” Grimmjow growled. He looked up, trying not to shudder. Some of these eyes were larger than he was tall, and each of them cast light across the sand in a beam even brighter than the moonlight. He noticed dark fingers clawing at the eyes, but they dissipated the instant they made contact.
 
Grimmjow stated the obvious. “White needs to see this.” And Ulquiorra could show him. Whatever this was, it was infringing on their territory, and it pissed him off. No, it scared him. He’d seen Kurosaki at his worst, and he’d been struggling to even stay focused. Kurosaki had a lot on his plate at the best of times, but this was just absurd.
 
With no clear signal, both he and Ulquiorra turned and ran back to Las Noches. Ulquiorra was just a bit faster, but he could fly, Grimmjow felt like that was cheating. He was tempted to go into segunda etapa just to prove he was faster, but that seemed a waste.
 
He glanced up at the starless sky, and for once, his knowledge of what lay above him was reassuring.

--- xxx ---

Rukia

2 years later

With each step she took through the Valley of Screams, the more uncertainty weighed on her soul. This was a one way trip, she was putting an immeasurable amount of faith in the man she thought she knew. She knew

Ichigo

, but she knew Ichigo as a headstrong teenager, not this older, jaded version.
 
The Ichigo of the future was distant, quiet, distrusting. It had been years now, but she still remembered the way his eyes never settled, the exhaustion that settled over him like he was a hunted animal. He was different.
 
She could also remember the way that had all changed when he thought of his family. He wasn’t so different that he wasn’t still Ichigo. She had to remember that. Urahara insisted he was still the same boy at heart...no, he was a man now, a traitor, and a king. It was easy to forget when her sharpest memories were of that brooding scowl and self-conscious blush.
 
He wasn’t a child anymore, and as she placed one foot in front of the other, she realized she held no guilt over what she was about to do. There was still a painfully high chance he would make good on his threat and he would kill her, but there was also the hope the Ichigo she remembered would listen, would help.
 
She stepped out into the desert, a gust of wind dragging her cloak along with it, whipping it around her ankles. She looked up, then around at the dunes. In the distance she could see Las Noches, rising from the horizon as a great monolith.
 
She couldn’t feel Ichigo, but she could feel the reiatsu of several Espada. She steeled herself for what was to come, boxing off her emotions in case the man she was about to confront truly was the enemy of Soul Society.
 
She ran towards Las Noches, worried she was sprinting towards her death. There was nothing but the sound of her own breath, and the hiss of shifting sand in the wind. It was more beautiful here than she’d expected. She would have thought a land of hollows would be...she didn’t even know, but the peace of night was far from what she’d thought to find.
 
She felt several reiatsu signatures approaching, and she slowed to a stop, hand resting on the hilt of her Zanpakutou. She didn’t draw it, not yet. Any sign of aggression might warrant her death, but that didn't mean she would just stand there and die if she was attacked. She could so clearly remember Ichigo’s threat to kill any shinigami that entered Hueco Mundo; there was the very real fear that no matter what she did, she was dead the moment she’d stepped into that garganta.
 
From the feel of their reiatsu, she imagined that the three converging on her were either Espada rank or close to it. They split as they grew closer, and when they stopped, they flanked her on either side.
 
Her eyes narrowed, nervous, as the one in the center stepped forward. The left side of his face was obscured by a mask, a spike extending from the right side of his head. He towered over her, but she felt certain she could beat him in a fair fight. Him

and

his friends? Maybe not.
 
He spoke softly, more eloquently than she might have expected from an arrancar. “

Shinigami

. To come here alone you must either be very stupid, or you’re here on business. You don't appear stupid.”
 
The smaller female arrancar to her left let out a bark of laughter. “Who cares? White says your life is forfeit once you show yer ugly face.” She had a single, solitary horn curving from her forehead, her left eye amber and outlined in red.
 
The one to Rukia’s right had long, white hair, her outfit more revealing than concealing. She had a beak-like mask fragment following the curve of her cheekbone. “Don't lie, Apacci, I think she's cute. A little short though.” Her voice was deep, almost playful.
 
The tall one before her reached for his sword, drawing it slowly. “Apacci is right, you should not be here.”
 
Rukia tightened her grip on her Zanpakutou and demanded, “I want to speak with Kurosaki.”
 
Apacci demanded, “Who’s Kurosaki?” No one had an answer for her. Rukia grit her teeth in frustration, not having considered that Ichigo might have used an alias.
 
The arrancar directly before Rukia raised his sword. “You're in no position to be making demands, shinigami, you're not even a taicho.”
 
Rukia ground her teeth with a growl of frustration, uncertain what to do. She started to draw her sword, coming to the conclusion that violence was inevitable.
 
A strong hand over hers stopped her cold, the look of surprise on her face mirrored by all three arrancar. Even with the added echoing tones, she would recognize his voice anywhere. “I’d like it if you didn't kill my arrancar, shrimp.”
 
She whirled, and he let her hand slip from his grasp, studying her expression with a cautious, calculating look she couldn't remember ever seeing on his face before. He seemed to be bracing himself, as if he feared he was about to do something he didn’t want to do. He asked, “What did you come here for, Rukia?”
 
Rukia noticed that somewhere between Ichigo showing up and turning around, she'd been dangerously distracted. She couldn't mark the moment the three arrancar had dropped into a bow. The white-haired one in particular had even dropped to a knee. Was she really so afraid of Ichigo she completely forgot about the arrancar?
 
She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly too dry. She considered asking if he would talk in private, but if he hadn’t already suggested it, she didn’t think it would happen. “Hollows have been attacking the outer districts of the Rukongai.” She searched his face as she questioned, “Are they yours?”
 
Ichigo’s expression darkened. “No.”
 
She wanted to believe him, she really did, but she wasn’t so sure anymore.
 
He said, “You didn’t risk your life to come here and ask a question.”
 
Her eyes narrowed. “I came here to warn you. If it really isn’t you...Soul Society is planning on retaliating. The attacks are growing closer and closer to Seireitei.”
 
Understanding and fury flashed in his eyes, turning away to pace with a growl. Rukia couldn’t be sure, but the sand seemed to move, ebbing and flowing towards and away from Ichigo. She took a step back, instinctively afraid, even if she couldn’t place why.
 
The white-haired arrancar hadn’t moved from her low bow. “Heika…”
 
Ichigo paused, then glanced up at the sky. His jaw tightened, then he looked over at the white-haired arrancar. For how angry he clearly was, Rukia was impressed with how carefully he schooled his tone when he spoke. “You know I hate that. Stand,

Thera

.” The emphasis he put on her name was chiding, and spoke of a familiarity Rukia didn’t expect to see towards an arrancar.
 
She looked up, brows furrowed, then picked herself up. She seemed to have a hard time looking at him at all, but not out of fear, out of immeasurable respect. How he’d earned it, Rukia didn’t think she would ever know.
 
Thera struggled to find the words, but there was a depth of honor there that reminded Rukia of her brother. “Someone dares command hollows in your place, this can’t be allowed to continue!”
 
“

It won’t

. I know who it is,” he said.
 
Rukia wasn’t expecting that, and neither were the arrancar.
 
Ichigo glanced up again, that look filled with so much hate, she didn’t recognize him. His shoulders sagged in a silent sigh and he looked back at Rukia. “I don’t suppose you would tell me

when

they’re planning on doing this?”
 
She answered, “Soon, but I’m not sure.”
 
Guilt settled in her stomach with the knowledge that simply being here was treason, let alone sharing confidential information. Yet she couldn’t shake that this was the right thing to do. She’d agonized over it for weeks, and the end result of that stress had landed her in front of Kisuke’s shop, demanding to speak to Ichigo. She hadn’t expected to hear he hadn’t been to Karakura in months, and no one had known why.
 
Now it boiled down to what Ichigo was going to do with her. She admitted, “I can’t get back, this was a one way trip.”
 
Ichigo’s brows furrowed, glancing to the arrancar, then back to her. He closed the distance between them too quickly for her to track, and Rukia felt a chill rush up her spine. She didn’t know what he was going to do. She

didn’t know

, and that was terrifying.
 
He reached for her and she flinched, not willing to fight, and not willing to run. His touch was startlingly gentle, his hand lifting her chin. Her eyes snapped to his, and for a second, he was the Ichigo she remembered. Beyond the dark sclera, the cold gleam of yellow eyes, there was still the capacity for kindness.
 
She straightened. She hadn’t realized how defensive, how fearful she had been until he’d pointed it out to her. He let his hand fall and said, “You risked a lot to come here. I’ll send you home.”
 
“Heika! She’s a shini-”
 
“And an old friend. One that just committed treason to warn us.” He cut her off and gave her a gently warning look. Thera bit her lip, but backed off, and Rukia couldn't help but empathize. The arrancar only wanted what was best for him, she wasn't trying to be malicious.
 
He ordered Apacci. “Return to Las Noches, inform Harribel.” He looked at the male arrancar and said, “Make sure Szayel is made aware. I want to know about it the instant a garganta opens.”
 
Then he turned to face Thera, his orders different for her as well. “Do me a favor?” He barely finished speaking before she gave the affirmative. Ichigo didn't seem surprised, though Rukia knew what he looked like when he was uncomfortable, and the arrancar’s enthusiasm clearly disappointed him. “Circle the outer wall, leave a bit of your blood on the stone about every hundred feet. Just a fingerprint should be enough.”
 
She dipped in another low bow. “Yes, heika!” She blurred away in a burst of sonido with the other two following swiftly behind.
 
Rukia gave Ichigo a questioning look, but he shrugged it off. Either he didn’t want her to know his plan, or he really didn’t think it was worth explaining. He asked, “Where should I send you?”
 
“I left from Karakura.” And if she just appeared back in Soul Society without using an official senkaimon, more than questions would be asked; tensions were running too high, and they already suspected her. For good reason. She had a feeling Renji knew, but he said nothing to her before she left.
 
Ichigo cocked his head. “Kisuke sent you…” It was an unfinished, incomplete thought, one that was voiced while his mind was trapped elsewhere. He looked tired, no more or less than she remembered, but she couldn’t help but notice he lacked that same heavy despair she’d seen before. His voice was heavy with confusion. “Rukia...why did you come here?”
 
She’d anticipated this question, but his suspicion still stung. She said, “Part of it was to warn you-you’re still Ichigo, you still saved my life. But another part of it...was selfish. Everyone was so quick to believe it was you, but I...I didn’t want to believe you would do this. After what you said, I didn’t know-I

needed

to know.” She didn’t know why she felt so defensive, maybe it was the understanding look on his face.
 
He ruffled her hair, the familiarity making her flush with embarrassment. “Squirt, the last thing I want is to have the attention of Soul Society. I’m just trying to keep this place from falling apart.”
 
She fixed her hair, her blush still burning her cheeks. “Ichigo...What do you mean?”
 
“It doesn’t matter.” He sighed, lifting a hand and tapping the air. A garganta split open behind him, and he looked back at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I can’t escort you. I have to stay.”
 
“Why?”
 
He turned away, and when he spoke, he was facing the garganta. “The same reason I haven’t gone home.”
 
She reached up to touch his arm, then hesitated. She’d reached out on reflex, but despite the similarities in his speech, and the look in his eyes, he was different,

dangerous

. She withdrew her hand before he noticed, suddenly feeling foolish. “You’re not trying to handle this alone?”
 
He chuckled, a sound she wasn’t use to hearing from him. He said, “No one else can do it. Don’t worry though, I have help.”
 
She was genuinely confused. “From who?”
 
He looked back at her with a reassuring smile, and once again she was reminded of the Ichigo she remembered. “Arrancar aren’t evil, most of them are just trying to get by.” He took a step back, gesturing toward the tear in the world. “Get going, the less time you’re gone, the better it’ll be for you.”
 
She bit her lip, closing her eyes and letting out a steadying sigh. She centered herself and opened her eyes, her expression once again distant. She dipped in a low bow, deciding if Soul Society wouldn’t acknowledge him as a legitimate king, at the very least, she could. “Thank you for your diplomacy, I won’t forget this.”
 
He smiled, but it was a touch forced. “Thanks for the warning, Rukia...I hope I don’t see you again anytime soon.”
 
The feeling was mutual. If they met again so soon, it likely wouldn’t be as friends. She braced herself for the spike of pain that prickled her heart and forced a smile of her own. “Good luck, Ichigo.”
 
She turned away, stepping into the garganta. She realized it took some measure of trust to do that. He could trap her in the Valley of Screams with nothing but a thought, she was completely at his mercy. She pushed those fears aside, aware that if he meant to kill her, he’d had ample opportunity to do so.
 
She didn’t look back, not allowing herself to give in. The farther away she got, and the more she mulled over what had happened, the more she believed she’d done the right thing. Ichigo wasn’t doing this. Everything he’d done now aligned with what he’d done the first time he’d crossed Soul Society; he was reacting.
 
If it wasn’t Ichigo behind it, then who?
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
He waited until Rukia cleared the garganta, then let it close, turning his full attention back towards Hueco Mundo. The moment Rukia was gone, he let his grip on his anger loosen. He’d had his theories, but to know for certain was infuriating. He turned, stepping into the darkness.
 
He re-emerged in front of Harribel, her old fraccion not ten feet from her. They stared at him with wide eyes, uncertain how to react. Ichigo ignored them and gave Harribel a look carefully devoid of emotion. “I need to speak with you.”
 
Harribel regarded him coolly, then nodded to her old fraccion. They left the pair alone, albeit hesitantly, and Harribel and he were left standing alone in near darkness. She asked, “What are you going to do?”
 
Apacci was here when he came in, so he knew she was up to speed. He said, “What I’ve been doing; try to avoid a war.” His back hit the wall and he sat, sliding to the floor. “If that bitch would ease up, maybe I could figure out how she’s getting away with taking hollows right out from under my nose.”
 
Harribel crouched in front of him, her hands clasped loosely between her knees. “You’re getting frustrated.”
 
Ichigo let his head fall back, closing his eyes. “Should I not be?”
 
“Does it solve anything?” He narrowed his eyes, but she was right, she was

always

right. “Is there no way to retaliate?”
 
It had taken time, but out of necessity, he’d begun to lean on Harribel for help, and it had led to a certain degree of trust. He could still remember a time where he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, let alone close them and bare his throat. He let out a tense exhale. “The situation hasn’t changed. She’s got her boot on our throat and it’s taking all of my attention and then some to hold her back. She’s had hundreds of years to gather power.”
 
“If I could do more, Kurosaki, I would, but you know all I can do is ease the burden.” She'd discovered his name months ago thanks to Grimmjow, and he had to admit, now that the cat was out of the bag, he greatly preferred his real name.
 
She suggested, “We could continue to search for her?”
 
“All that accomplished was hand delivering hollows to her.” He dropped his head, blinking through exhaustion. “I'm sorry, I know you're only trying to help...I know.”
 
He felt her fingers weave through his hair. Her touch was gentle, and oddly calming. He didn’t return it, he never did, but he let it continue for a long moment without interruption. He finally looked up, feigning that it had never happened. He said, “Call a meeting. Soul Society is going to act soon, they think they’re already at war.”
 
She straightened, offering him a hand. He took it, rising as she spoke, “What do you plan to do about Soul Society? We can defend against them, but from what you’ve told me about them, we would likely suffer heavy casualties.”
 
“I’m not going to make any of you run, I wouldn’t ask you to abandon your pride.” He saw the approval on her face, a small smile visible in her eyes. “When they attack, things will happen fast. Die Königin hasn’t let up, she doesn’t want me to leave and sniff her out, so I can bet the instant Soul Society makes their move, so will she. Her ultimate goal is the destruction of Soul Society.”
 
“Who is it you plan to protect?”
 
Ichigo’s expression fell. “Everyone.”
 
“If you have to choose?”
 
“I can’t.”
 
She repeated the question, only inches away from his face. “You might have to, you’re not perfect.”
 
His brows furrowed, trying to turn away, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Ichigo...share the burden, you can trust us.”
 
He looked at her hand, then forced himself to meet her eyes. Harribel saw straight through him in a way only his father and Zangetsu had ever been able to accomplish. His desire to protect everyone felt childish and foolish when it was laid bare for her to judge. He reluctantly acquiesced. “I’ll try.”
 
She let her hand fall, satisfied. “That’s all I can ask for.”
 
--- xxx ---

Translations

:

Alteza: High King

Die Königin: The Queen

Das Licht: The Light

El
corazón
de Alteza: The heart of Alteza
 
Thanks for reading guys!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for awhile, but it ain’t goin’ away.” -Elvis Presley
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Ichigo couldn't remember the last time all the arrancar had been gathered in one place. They were more numerous than he remembered, there was barely enough space in the throne room for them all to stand comfortably. Granted, the wide ring around the Espada left a lot of space empty; the weaker arrancar weren't willing to chance bumping into a testy Espada.
 
He recognized most of them, even if he didn't know all their names. Either he made them arrancar himself, or he passed them in the halls, he saw them at a distance, he spoke to them; they were all familiar. Maybe once he could have killed an arrancar in passing without even a flicker of guilt, but that wasn't possible anymore. These arrancar weren’t his enemies anymore, they were his responsibility, and the thought that any of them might die made his heart twist in anxiety.
 
He never liked formalities, and he was happy to see the arrancar had started to take that sentiment to heart; at least around him. They didn’t huddle in fearful silence when he walked into a room either, not that he wouldn’t deserve it if they did. The arrancar kept a cautious distance, and that was a massive improvement to what he’d seen before.
 
There was the babble of gentle murmurs echoing in the chamber, even with the back wall crumbling into the desert. Ichigo leaned on some rubble, arms crossed. He could have fixed the destruction in a heartbeat, but he liked it this way. It was a reminder of the nightmare he’d left behind, and a warning to what he could have been.
 
Harribel stood a short ways away, speaking with Thera. For whatever the reason, the Espada seemed to attract women, and her little group had grown to consist of around ten new arrancar. Her inner circle still consisted of Cyan, Mila Rose, and Apacci, but Apacci’s and Thera’s friendship had drawn her to be closer knit than the other arrancar Harribel had taken under her wing.
 
Thera was the first he’d made an arrancar, and even if it was mostly just luck of the draw, he couldn’t help but track her progress. She was strong, she was already at the level of an Espada. In fact, all of the arrancar were stronger, he realized he was proud of them.
 
As badly as he'd prefer to take this all on by himself, Harribel was right, they

deserved

to defend themselves, they didn’t need him to fight their battles for them. This was what he’d been training them for.
 
Grimmjow’s voice dragged him from his thoughts. “The fuck are you smiling about?”
 
He was smiling? “I was just thinking, Soul Society is making a mistake. Even if we didn’t know they were coming, you’ve all gotten strong, you're going to put up a hell of a lot more fight than they're expecting.”
 
A smirk stretched across Grimmjow’s face at the notion of violence, Ichigo really didn't think he could help himself. “Guess that's a legitimate reason.” Ichigo could tell there was more he wanted to say, familiar by now with his roundabout way of asking things. “You’re a shinigami too, aren’t you?”
 
The way he posed it, he was legitimately uncertain where he loyalties lay. He wasn’t expecting that, it stung the same way it had when he saw how his friends wouldn’t turn their back towards him, or flinched when he moved just a little too quickly.
 
He couldn’t blame Grimmjow for any uncertainty on his loyalties, or any of the arrancar for that matter. That was a failing on his part. “I might be half shinigami, but I'm not one of them. Technically I’m bound to this place, leaving for good isn’t feasible, but that’s not

why

I’m here. It never was.” He wasn’t so sure he belonged here either, but here, he wouldn’t hurt anyone on accident that wasn’t inherently sturdier.
 
They were isolated from the others, their conversation drowned in the murmurs of background noise. Grimmjow asked, “So why are you here?” There was a snide edge to his tone, but Ichigo couldn’t remember the last time Grimmjow hadn’t had an attitude about something.
 
“Do you want a real answer, Grimmjow?”
 
Ichigo looked over at the arrancar, and realized the Espada hadn’t expected Ichigo to take him seriously. For a moment, Ichigo thought he was doing to leave. His fraccion schooled his expression into something colder, harder. “Yer always keepin’ secrets.

Tell me.

”
 
Ichigo pushed off from the wall, standing before him. Most didn’t notice the shift in his mood, or his sudden focus on one blue-haired Espada, but a handful of the closest arrancar did. They cast looks in his direction, then pointedly distracted themselves, drifting away.
 
Ichigo’s voice was low, he stood close, despite knowing Grimmjow would be able to hear him perfectly. What he was about to say was meant for Grimmjow, no one else. “You already know I lost everything, I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I never left Hueco Mundo. Is it so shocking I would want to be someplace familiar? I was going to be a doctor, like oyaji...Aizen had other plans, things changed...I’m not sure I belong here, but being in Karakura feels wrong. I’m here because I want to be, it’s nothing complicated.”
 
“There’s more to it than that.”
 
“You’re right. It started that way...I cared what happened here in an abstract way at first, but that’s changed.”
 
Grimmjow looked away, clearly unprepared for an actual response. He made an aggravated sound and asked, “Then why go to such lengths for strangers? You keep pushing yourself past your limits. I don’t understand.”
 
Ichigo eyes slipped to Pantera. “Not all of you are strangers.” Grimmjow took a small step back at the reminder, something Ichigo pretended not to notice. Not only had he pulled Grimmjow into his soul, but he'd witnessed something that should have been private.
 
Ichigo asked, “Does the ‘why’ really matter so much to you?” The Espada gave no answer, so he continued, “There's no other way to put this; Soul Society abandoned me, I was alone. I understand why, but it doesn't make me any more sympathetic to their cause. I spent a good deal of time here, I fought you, the Espada...I saw Aizen abandon the arrancar - he used all of you. You might have been my enemies, but I respected you, and it felt wrong that he didn’t.” They’d had no purpose, no recourse, they were pitiful. He’d understood on a visceral level, and he’d never forgotten.
 
Ichigo could see that what he said bothered Grimmjow, because the Espada latched on to anger. Grimmjow bared his teeth, “So you decided to take Aizen’s place?”
 
That stung a little. He hated being compared to Aizen, he did it to himself far too often, and hearing it from others was nearly validation of his fears. “You could say that...killing Aizen was my first goal, but that act had consequences. I could have ignored Las Noches, the Espada, but I didn’t want to. He saw you as pawns,

dogs

, and he threw you away just as quickly. You all deserve better.”
 
“Why the fuck do you get to decide what we deserve?” Grimmjow growled under his breath.
 
Ichigo smiled, darkly amused. “That’s a good question. I’m trying my best, Grimmjow, make of it what you will.” That answer seemed to annoy the Espada.
 
Ichigo watched him, deciding if he should share his thoughts or not. He had a hard time understanding people’s feelings sometimes, but he wasn’t so stupid he couldn’t see that Grimmjow was taking this personally. “I wouldn’t let just anyone into my inner world. I’m not

expecting

trust in return, and I’m not manipulating you. I spent too much of my life at the whims of others, I wouldn’t do that to you...or anyone. You’ve always been free to do as you like.”
 
Ichigo turned away, leaving Grimmjow standing flustered. He faced the rest of the arrancar and let his voice carry. He didn’t bother with fluff or decorum. “I called you here to tell you Soul Society is planning to invade.”
 
Murmurs erupted, both nervous and excited, but he didn’t pause. “When that happens, there will only be one way in and out of Las Noches. The system Szayel set up will send out an alert the instant a garganta is opened. When that happens, if you choose to fight, I’ll make sure you can find me. I don’t intend to let anyone in or out from anywhere I don’t choose them to enter. If you aren’t near Espada level, you’ll be in the way. That’s fine. I’d rather you live than die as fodder.”
 
Of all the arrancar he’d turned, he didn’t despise any of them. They weren’t good, per se, no hollow was, but as arrancar, they were closer to what they should have been from the beginning. Human. Turning them was...uncomfortably intimate. He felt their regrets, their fears, their elation. He never told them what he felt, he couldn't even remember their names...but he knew them. He didn’t want them to die.
 
Ichigo said, “There’s one more thing. I want to tell you my real name.”
 
The murmurs abruptly ceased, none of them shifted or even breathed; he might as well have been surrounded by statues.

“Ichigo, is this wise? You haven’t given yourself much time to entertain the thought.”

Probably not, but it feels wrong to let this deception continue. If I think about it too hard, I won’t do it. If Grimmjow has doubts, what's to stop all of them from having doubts?

“

So you're gonna abandon all caution because of your

feelings

?!”

Not all caution, I'm sure they all know what would happen if they crossed me. The risk on my end is still minimal.

Minimal enough that even divulging his greatest secret didn't seem like enough.
 
His voice carried when he spoke. “I'm about to ask you all to put a good deal of trust in me, so it only seems fair I extend some trust of my own.” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. To live a lie for so long, telling the truth was almost physically painful. “My real name...is Kurosaki Ichigo.”
 
Before they could question what that meant, he let his hollowfication fade away, his hair shortening until it only reached his shoulders, his hollow hole disappearing. The sudden rush of emotion took his breath away, but he fought through it. Only Harribel and Grimmjow had seen him outside of hollowfication, he felt oddly naked without it.
 
There was a soft ripple of surprise that spread through the arrancar, and he sensed the sudden distrust, even if they hadn’t so much as twitched. He said, “I haven’t lied to you, but I haven’t told you everything, and you deserved to know.”
 
Ichigo was surprised to find it was Ulquiorra who spoke up. “Why did you keep this a secret?”
 
“In another life, you were all my enemies. Old habits die hard.” He saw the question in their eyes, so he indulged their curiosity. Now that he was speaking, now that the secret was out, he realized he felt relief. “It occurred to me that I don't have a real reason to hide anymore, and I’m not afraid of any of you. If I'm willing to die for you, you can at least know my fucking name.” He might have sworn, but his tone was somewhat resigned.
 
“Are you?”
 
Ichigo turned to look at Szayel, raising a brow in a silent demand for clarification.
 
Szayel looked visibly nervous, he could barely hold eye contact. Even with his over inflated ego, and even after months had passed, Szayel was still terrified of him, and part of himself reveled in that fact. Szayel asked, “Are you willing to die?” There was a reproachful edge to his tone, and if there was any better arrancar to ask that question of him, Ichigo couldn't think of one.
 
Ichigo answered, “I already did.”
 
Now they all looked confused, but before he could continue, to his shock, Grimmjow stepped in. The Espada stepped up beside him, lips curled into a disgusted snarl. “He had a living body.

Had

.”
 
He supposed it added some weight to his claims to hear it from another arrancar, even if they all knew how sympathetic Grimmjow was to him.
 
Loly asked, “What happened to it?”
 
Ichigo looked over at her and she blushed under the sudden scrutiny, crossing her arms defensively. She was still a bitch, but she was less of a bitch, and she seemed hell bent on pretending she hated him when that had clearly changed.
 
Ichigo raised a hand in a flippant gesture and darkness swirled around his feet. Several of the arrancar that were closest to him took a step back, all except the Espada themselves. “Alteza happened.”
 
An arrancar whose name he didn't know found the courage to speak up. “You're half shinigami, how can we know...how can we know you're not going to betray us?”
 
Ichigo sighed, uncertain if there was a way to reassure them.
 
Grimmjow shouted, but not at any one arrancar, he looked about ready to fight them all. “Do you even have the

slightest

idea what would have happened if he wasn't here?” He supposed he shouldn’t have been shocked by his fraccion’s continued interjections, but he was. “Nah, I didn’t think so.”
 
“

Grimmjow-

”
 
The Espada flashed him a venomous look.

“I’m not done.”

He turned back to the arrancar and continued, “Ya can’t even feel his reiatsu, and you think you know? Che, it doesn’t fucking matter what his name is or what he is, he’s holding the world together, and he’s the only one that gives a single shit to do it.”
 
Grimmjow rounded on Ichigo, and the visored was still struggling between annoyance and exasperation. The Espada growled, “Show them.”
 
Ichigo didn’t move or say anything, but Grimmjow insisted, his vice dropping enough so that only Ichigo would hear. “I thought you were done with secrets?”
 
Ichigo bared his teeth in mild irritation, muttering, “Asshole.”
 
He stepped around Grimmjow, feeling the need to preface what he was about to do. “I’m not showing you this to scare you, regardless of your opinion of me, I’m not going to stop trying.” He closed his eyes and raised his hands, calling on el sangre.
 
He’d gotten better at unconsciously holding

her

back. She made very little progress anymore, and he got the sense she was only doing it to keep him off her own back.
 
The whispers in his head grew louder, and from the fear that spiked in the arrancar, he knew they heard it too. He lowered his hands, shifting his focus to other aspects of Hueco Mundo. He’d had a deathgrip on the fringes of Hueco Mundo, but he let his hold slip, just a touch.
 
Eyes opened in the sky, huge, but numerous, like stars. They surged with a light that was too pure, too unnatural. Her stranglehold was no stronger now than it was before, but this was mostly visual, she was contained. He only needed them to see what threatened their world, and only because he valued Grimmjow’s opinion more highly than he thought the Espada realized.
 
He clenched his hands into fists, and dark hands clawed at the eyes, dragging them back down into the abyss.
 
He let his arms fall and opened his eyes, realizing that el sangre had gone into a frenzy once he’d paid it conscious attention. It lapped at the floors and sand, passing harmlessly through concerned arrancar.
 
Ichigo forced it to settle, letting out a long, slow breath. “Now you know. Die Königin is the enemy of Hueco Mundo, but she’s used us as a scapegoat for her own actions. Soul Society is under the belief we’ve been the ones leading raids on the outer districts; like hunting the

weak

is something we would boast to doing.” He grit his teeth in genuine annoyance.
 
His eyes slipped to Harribel, and he saw nothing but support. It had been awhile since he’d spoken to a group, he’d just let Harribel handle it, but this was important. He turned back to face them, and saw that their expressions had changed. Now they were merely thoughtful. “My position is unchanged: If you remain in Las Noches, if you remain loyal to me, your enemies are my own. If you choose to leave, I can’t guarantee anything. Just know that regardless of your choice, I’m not leaving Hueco Mundo unprotected. That’s my responsibility, not yours.”
 
He let his fingers trail over Zangetsu’s hilt, seeking reassurance. He found it, just as he always did. He said, “Soul Society

will

invade, that’s inevitable...will you fight with me? Do you consider this place to be your home? Will you defend it?”
 
Thera stepped forward and the motion against a backdrop of stillness drew his attention, along with the rest of the arrancar. She insisted, “Heika...this changes nothing.” She dropped to a knee, slipping into a formal bow with far too much ease for his liking. “My sword is yours, as it always will be.”
 
He wasn’t expecting the rest of the arrancar to follow suit. They dropped to a knee in a wave, even the Espada, even Harribel. It was...a lot to accept. They were trusting him with their lives, to do anything short of his best would be a grave insult.
 
He let his reiatsu fall to a level they could sense it, but it was far from oppressive. He wasn’t trying to intimidate them, or scare them, he did it out of respect. Even if he loathed Szayel, even if he didn’t like some of the arrancar, or approve, as a king, he had to put his prejudice aside. These arrancar were his, Las Noches was his, and god forbid anyone threaten that.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
He’d sworn he’d never willingly bow to anyone, his pride recoiled at the mere thought of it, but there was something about Kurosaki. He’d seen his nightmares, he’d been on the receiving end of one more than once. He’d seen him break down, be beaten, and the fucker just wouldn’t stop. Kurosaki stood there, not expecting anything, not demanding anything, and Grimmjow believed him. He still looked young, at a glance, but there was a weariness and ice in his eyes, pain that reminded Grimmjow that the visored understood.
 
He dropped to a knee, more than ready to fight with Kurosaki. He saw it as a point of pride that he take a knee, that he show him he acknowledged even a glimmer of the power he held. That’s what it all boiled down to; power.
 
Kurosaki’s reiatsu washed over him, as heavy and vast as the desert itself. He shivered, but it wasn’t painful, nor did it scare him, it was simply there. Kurosaki hadn’t masked his emotions from them, he could feel his confidence woven into his reiatsu; his frustration, his bloodlust, his rage, his loneliness, and a hundred other things he couldn’t identify. One thing he didn’t feel was fear.
 
He looked up at the visored, surprised to find Kurosaki staring right back at him. He couldn’t read his expression, he rarely could, Kurosaki was good at distancing himself, but he could feel the ghost of his emotion in his reiatsu. Gratitude.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow stood just inside Aizen’s old room with a near permanent sneer on his face. This place still smelled like Aizen, even after all this time. He didn’t understand why Kurosaki

wanted

to be here. He hovered a few feet behind him, then decided joining Kurosaki on the balcony was better than standing in the bedroom. “What do you want?”
 
Kurosaki leaned on the railing, not looking in his direction. He tapped his fingertips on the smooth, flawless stone, for once not in his hollow form. Even when he looked human, he was intimidating in a quiet, subtle way. He’d long since gotten over not being able to feel his reiatsu; he knew he was strong, and that was enough.
 
Kurosaki said, “Soul Society could invade at any moment, I’d rather you stay close at hand than have to bring you here with el sangre and make you fight nauseous.”
 
Grimmjow curled his lip in distaste. “It’s worse than nausea you asshole, it feels goddamn awful.”
 
“Yes, which is why you’re here.” Kurosaki looked back at him, and Grimmjow was struck by how calm he seemed. “It isn’t really fair to ask, but if you could try not to kill anyone, I’d be grateful.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed, baring his teeth. “You think they would extend the same courtesy?”
 
“No, I don’t. It just seems a waste.” The visored glanced upwards with a tight shrug. “I might not know them now, but I did. It’s just a request.”
 
“Having second thoughts?”
 
“I like to avoid regrets where I can.” Kurosaki turned around, his back against the railing, and crossed his arms. He watched him intently, enough that Grimmjow shifted, uncomfortable.
 
The Espada grew tired of it and demanded, “

What

?”
 
“You’ve gotten strong, but don’t get too cocky. I’d like it if you lived.” He smiled, a ghost of a thing, but it was there.
 
Grimmjow stuffed his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall across from him. “I ain’t gonna die, dumbass. Don’t

you

do anything retarded.”
 
Kurosaki gave him a light eyeroll. “You mean keep Hueco Mundo from collapsing? Got it.” He huffed, looking tired. Grimmjow didn’t think he’d let himself slip like around anyone besides Harribel. He wasn’t sure if he was flattered or not.
 
The visored looked up at him, golden eyes burning. He asked, “Think you can follow orders for once?”
 
Grimmjow was incredulous. “Are you serious?” It was a solid ‘no’ in most cases, but a ‘yes’ if it was important, and they both knew that.
 
Kurosaki took that answer asa yes, continuing. “There’s a high chance I’ll end up fighting two people I don’t necessarily want to fight, and there’s a good chance I might actually die.” Grimmjow thought he’d have something to say, but the thought of losing the one person of interest in this place made his guts twist. “If...if that happens, will you tell my family?”
 
Grimmjow deflected. “I’m an

arrancar

, is it really wise to trust me with anything?”
 
Kurosaki scoffed, narrowing his eyes. “You talk a whole lot of shit, Grimmjow, but I know you wouldn’t attack my family. Not anymore.”
 
“How can you be so sure?”
 
Kurosaki bit back. “Don’t be dense. You’d feel too pathetic attacking humans for one, and for another, I know you’ll do it if it’s important to me.”
 
The hybrid thought he knew him, and maybe he did. It pissed him off. “

Fuck off.

”
 
Kurosaki was suddenly before him. Grimmjow drew Pantera, too annoyed to consider how pointless that was. Kurosaki caught his sword in his bare hand, lowering it as he stepped in close, forcing Grimmjow to back into the wall. Unless Kurosaki was in the mood the spar, the Espada couldn't even force him to participate, a fact that always rankled his nerves.
 
He ground his teeth as Kurosaki asked, “Will you tell them?”

“You’re not going to die,” he protested, “so what does it matter?”
 
Kurosaki tilted his head a fraction. “I see,” he muttered to himself. “I’m not

planning

on dying, I don’t have a death wish, but it would be pretty irresponsible not to plan for it, wouldn’t it?”
 
Grimmjow scowled. “Why not ask Harribel?”
 
The visored let go of Pantera, taking a step back. Grimmjow sheathed it as the hybrid responded,  “Because I asked

you

. She has enough to worry about already, and you’re already familiar with Karakura.”
 
“What does that have to do with anything?”
 
“It means my friends probably won’t try to kill you on sight.”
 
“They could fucking try.”
 
“

Grimmjow

.”
 
The Espada sucked in a hissing breath, shoving his hands back into his pockets. He was being deliberately difficult and they both knew it. He preferred to live in the present, he loathed thinking about the future. “Whatever.”
 
Kurosaki seemed satisfied with the resignation in his voice, taking his place back against the railing. The visored stared at him with a stillness and intensity Grimmjow was used to seeing, but never got use to.
 
Grimmjow stilled, like an alleycat sizing up a threat. Kurosaki always did this. He looked and he

looked

like he was searching for something.
 
Grimmjow could shout all the demands he wanted, but it always ended in a shrug, silence, a curt dismissal, and then it would start all over again.
 
Neither was willing to look away first, but Grimmjow knew he’d cave, he always did. There was something about

those eyes

. Kurosaki made him so angry. They burned like fire, his thoughts privy to no one but himself and his inner fucking hollow.
 
On those nights he’d been present when Kurosaki was asleep, he’d questioned the hollow, and the answer was always full of violence, or scathing insults, or both.
 
The visored said it himself, this could be it, this might be the end of the road, and he would never have an answer. “Why do you look at me like that?” he asked.
 
Kurosaki played stupid, raising a brow. “Like what?”

Fuck you, Kurosaki.

He reiterated, “Like

that

.”
 
Like hell was he going to explain himself when they both knew what he meant.
 
The visored’s eyes hardened, and he finally looked away. He didn't focus on anything in particular; he was looking into the past. “You know, of all the Espada, your death hit me the hardest. You were such an asshole, but you were

strong

. You didn’t settle for a good try, you wanted everything I could give and then some.”
 
That sounded like every training session he’d ever had with the visored. He very nearly didn’t believe that he was talking about another version of himself.
 
The visored’s voice fell, but grew sharper. “It’s just strange. I saw you die, I

know

you’re dead.” He looked up, his expression strained. “Yet here you are.

Alive

. It makes me wonder if this is even real, or if I’ve just gone mad.”
 
Grimmjow felt his gut clench at the notion this might be nothing but a goddamned fever dream. “You’re not crazy.”
 
Kurosaki chuckled. “How the fuck would I know? None of this makes sense.” He ran his hand through his hair, a habit Grimmjow had seen him stop himself from fulfilling when others were present. He knew what it meant; Kurosaki was stressed.
 
The Espada pushed away from the wall, taking the initiative and closing the distance between them. He couldn’t threaten the orange-haired idiot with bodily harm, but he knew how much he hated it when others stepped into his personal space. The hybrid could get up in everyone else’s face, but the second anyone tried the same, they usually backed away bloody.
 
The visored frowned, and Grimmjow’s lips quirked up into a pleased smirk. “None of it? Is conquering Hueco Mundo really so far-fetched? Didn’t seem to give ya much trouble.”
 
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
 
Grimmjow leaned a little closer, watching the muscles in Kurosaki’s jaw tighten in disapproval. “Ah, so you mean the world-eating monster in the sky? So what? Or do you mean the nightmares? The bloodlust? The whispers?” Kurosaki’s expression darkened, but he kept going. “Who cares? It’s all a part of you, does accepting that make you crazy?”
 
He remembered finding his segunda etapa too well. It was messy and painful, but he couldn’t imagine it any differently. He was who he was for all his faults and flaws. “You’re not crazy, Kurosaki.”
 
The visored’s expression softened around the edges. At least he didn’t look ready to start a fight anymore. Not that Grimmjow wouldn’t might a round or two, he was feeling anxious, but it would be stupid when they were literally waiting to be invaded. Kurosaki asked, “Why do you call me that?”
 
Grimmjow rocked back on his heels, eyes narrowed, “Call you what?”
 
“Kurosaki. It doesn’t seem like you.”
 
Grimmjow had any number of insults he could have barked in response, but he thought better of it. He'd never been asked that, and he'd never really had to think about an answer. When Aizen was in charge, the honorifics were forced out of him, but Kurosaki wasn't like that. He didn't know why it mattered. “Because I respect you.”
 
Amber eyes widened, clearly not expecting that answer. Grimmjow hadn't expected to say it either. If there wasn't the chance Kurosaki might die, he might not have.
 
The visored’s shock was brief, quickly hiding the emotion. “Call me Ichigo.”
 
“Che, I'm already use to calling ya Kurosaki, dumbass.”
 
“Tough.”
 
They stood there in mutual silence, but it wasn't awkward, it simply was. Grimmjow had spent far too much time in the visored’s presence to be concerned by mere silence, and they were both distracted by their own thoughts. The time slipped by, and they waited for war.
 
--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading guys!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Every fighter has a story that could break your heart. We lose, we get hurt and everything comes apart. That's when it's so difficult to stay on the straight and narrow.” -Barry McGuigan
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
The hallways were bathed in pink light, casting hard shadows that stretched from their feet into darkness. The alarm was a silent one, and when a garganta was open, everyone knew.
 
Szayel always was fond of pink. When the light was colored in it, it seemed too close to red, and Ichigo found he didn't like it.
 
Grimmjow stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with him, and on his other side stood Harribel. All of the Espada were there, as well as a few numeros, including Thera and Dordoni. Even Szayel was present, he'd insisted.
 
The scientist stood apart from the group, same as Zommari. Szayel wasn't use to fighting outside of his lab, he knew it made the cocky fucker nervous. That was fine, none of them were likely going to be fighting on their home turf anyway.
 
Yylfordt stood as far away from his brother as was physically possible in the hallway, breaking the silence. “What the fuck are we standing around for?”
 
Ichigo stared at the wall of darkness separating them from the rest of Hueco Mundo and answered, “I'm waiting for him to pass through the garganta.”
 
“Who?” Grimmjow asked.
 
“Yamamoto.”
 
Harribel asked, “What makes you think he’ll come?”
 
Ichigo focused on the space beyond la barrera. “He knows his taicho’s are no match for me, if he's serious about this, he’ll be here. If die Königin is serious about what

she's

doing, she’ll have made certain Yamamoto is out of the picture. He’ll be here.”
 
Ulquiorra spoke up. “You say the real threat isn't the shinigami.” If Ulquiorra had his doubts, he imagined that extended to all of them. He couldn't blame them. They were simply caught in the middle, and their enemy didn't even have the good graces to introduce themselves.
 
Ichigo reaffirmed. “It isn't.”
 
Apacci demanded, “Then what is?”
 
Ichigo answered, “I know you haven’t seen them, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. The Quincy.”
 
He looked back at all of them. “As soon as I sense die Königin move, the shinigami won’t be of any concern. Stall while you fight the shinigami, save your strength, they’re not the real enemy. As soon as I can leave Hueco Mundo, we’re going to Soul Society.” He could feel the questions burning in the gaze Grimmjow leveled at him, but the Espada held his tongue. Grimmjow knew more than the rest about his Quincy blood, but he never answered his questions; they were his problems to deal with.
 
Ichigo leaned on his power and he could feel all of the dark respond to his mental touch. Alteza was ready, waiting, as it always was. He wasn’t sure the thing had any other opinion other than the need to restore balance. It was powerful, but he would be fighting out of his element. If he wanted to protect Soul Society, that was how it had to be.
 
He just had to have faith in his arrancar. They would be fine, he couldn’t afford any distractions. He glanced at Grimmjow. “Don’t

conveniently

forget what I told you.”
 
“Shut the fuck up, Kurosaki.”
 
He took that as confirmation. Grimmjow never just nodded and agreed, and from his tone, he could tell he was tense, but eager.
 
His eyes turned back to the undulating dark, sensing the well of Yamamoto’s power as he left the garganta. He wanted to draw Zangetsu by pure instinct, but he waited. “I’m going to be occupied handling Yamamoto and die Königin; look to Harribel for orders.”
 
Ichigo glanced back, the arrancar’s eyes glittering in the dark like stray cats. He smiled a bit, he couldn’t help it. This was awful, this was war, people would die, but the adrenaline drew his lips up into a smirk despite his efforts to smother it. “Give em hell.”
 
He saw his own anticipation and exhilaration reflected in their posture, their reiatsu. He’d done all he could for them, this fight was theirs now.
 
Ichigo turned away and stepped forward, la sangre rippling away from him as he walked. El barrera parted for them, and some distance into the desert he saw the dark silhouettes of shinigami. His own clothes were streaked with white, even his Zanpakuto; half and half. He was neither a shinigami or a hollow, he didn’t want to fight either of them, but he wouldn’t let Yamamoto condemn them without so much as a trial.
 
He saw the man standing before the group, the taicho’s standing just beyond him, their fukutaichos to their side. The old man leaned on his cane, but Ichigo knew better than to buy the frail old man routine. He didn’t really like Yamamoto, but he understood his purpose. The man wasn’t evil, he was just doing what he thought was right, by any means necessary.
 
Ichigo held up a hand, and the Espada paused, Harribel in front. He left them standing there, walking out alone. Yamamoto accepted the invitation to talk, stepping away from the shinigami to meet him halfway.
 
The wind tugged Ichigo’s hair, long, even while he was outside of his hollow form. It tickled his face, obscuring his vision enough that he wondered why he’d ever let it get long.

“You gonna trust an arrancar to cut yer hair? Or me?

” His inner hollow sniggered, and he tried not to roll his eyes. Out of context, Yamamoto would only see it as an insult.
 
They stopped with only a few feet between them. Close enough to speak, but far from friendly. Yamamoto watched him with cold, narrowed eyes. He said nothing, so Ichigo spoke first. “I can’t imagine you came all this way just to visit.”
 
“It didn’t need to be this way, gaki.”
 
Ichigo had to fight not to roll his eyes, or reach for his sword. “

Everyone

is a child to you.”

“Ichigo,

try

to be diplomatic.”

Yama-jii came here to fight, what’s the point?

“Don’t make it worse.”

“Who the fuck cares? We can take him.”

Ichigo tried to ignore Zangetsu, deciding Ossan was the voice of reason. He said, “Not all hollows are under my control.”
 
The soutaichou’s voice held an air of condemnation. “You refuse responsibility for the lives that were lost?”
 
Ichigo’s expression hardened. “I never said that. I didn’t order the attack.”
 
“Arrancar led the attacks, you expect me to believe you took no part in it?”

Shit

.

“You knew talking would lead nowhere to begin with. The plan is the same.”

Ichigo lifted his hand towards Zangetsu, hesitating with his hand resting on the hilt of the sword slung over his back. “So that’s it, then?”
 
Yamamoto raised the staff, the wood splintering and unraveling to reveal his Zanpakuto. “It would appear so, gaki.” He gripped the hilt, preparing to draw, but hesitated as well.
 
Ichigo frowned, then drew both his swords. They were in his territory, Hueco Mundo was

his

, the shinigami didn’t belong here. He could feel the tension build, the reiatsu of the shinigami and the arrancar flaring. At most points in his life, he didn’t encourage his rage, but now...now he let it burn.
 
His power displaced the reishi around him, whipping his hair around his face. “It was a mistake to come here.”
 
Yamamoto didn’t humor him with a real response, he merely drew his sword. “Banshō issai kaijin to nase, Ryūjin Jakka!” Flames ignited along the blade, then expanded with the sudden burst.
 
The soutaicho’s reiatsu exploded, golden orange and raging like fire. His shikai was impressive, it took some effort to hold his ground against it. It was hot, his reiatsu expanding to encompass Ichigo, but it flowed harmlessly over his skin. At least, he assumed it was harmless. He still couldn’t feel pain, but he could feel both Alteza and his blut vene react to protect him.
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes against the sudden glare, the soutaichou’s silhouette rippling like a mirage against a backdrop of fire. Ichigo finally felt the need to raise his reiatsu. “This won’t be like last time, Yama-jii, this time I’m not delirious, and this time I won’t hold back.”
 
“Insolent

child

.”
 
Yamamoto raised his sword, and Ichigo raised his own.
 
Ichigo’s reiatsu swirled around him, visible in shades of electric blue, even if no one present could feel it. The darkness shifted the sand around him and he bent his knees, raising both of his swords before him, parallel with the ground. “

Bankai

.”
 
His power surged around him and his swords, forcing his hollowfication forward. A hollow hole gaped in his chest, his emotions beaten back in favor of something sharper, more exhilarating. His lips split in a fevered smirk, his reiatsu becoming dark, black and red warring against the soutaichou’s flames. He spun his sword in his hand, raising the massive cleaver above his head as effortlessly as he’d wield his shikai.
 
He was looking forward to this, even if this wasn’t the main course. His Espada were strong, but there was still very little challenge in a fight anymore aside from attacking himself. He missed the rush of battle, he was so tired of holding back.
 
Yamamoto’s flames spread, and he could feel the air become even dryer, the scattered wisps of clouds in the sky disintegrating under the heat. He only smiled wider, he couldn’t help it. “No bankai, jii-san? I’m insulted.”
 
Yamamoto shifted into a stance, raising his Zanpakutou before him. “This will be over quickly, I have no need of bankai against a child.”
 
The flames doubled along the blade as he swung his sword. “Taimatsu.”
 
The fire surged around Ichigo in a vicious torrent, but his own reiatsu kept the worst of the heat at bay with comparatively little effort. His smirk grew darker, focused, and he moved.
 
He stepped through the fire, the speed of it sucked the fire after him at the sudden displacement of air pressure. He stopped and gripped Yamamoto by the haori, flames cascading around them in a wave. He jumped up, dragging Yamamoto with him.
 
The reishi of his jump was cushioned by Alteza, limiting the surrounding damage so he didn’t accidently harm or inconvenience any shinigami or arrancar caught up in the aftermath of his jump. The sand rippled when he kicked off the ground, the dark exploding upwards instead of out, containing the sudden blast of reishi.
 
He looked down at Yamamoto, the man’s eyes dark with murderous intent. Maybe once, being the focus of that kind of power would have scared him, but no longer.
 
The soutaichou’s hand was tight in a death grip on his arm, his touch nearly molten. Despite having the ability to remove his hand, he let Ichigo carry him skyward. His blut protected him from the worst of it, but he imagined it might have been rather painful without Alteza to act as a buffer.
 
He mocked, “You would have involved your subordinates? You’re a cruel man.” He knew at the speed they were moving, Yamamoto wouldn’t be able to hear him, but the man could read his lips.
 
Ichigo let him go several miles above the desert and Yamamoto’s flames roared to life once again. Yamamoto answered, “They took their vows, they know their purpose.”
 
“Like I said, cruel.” Ichigo twisted his grip on his sword, circling Yamamoto.
 
“Will you stand there and pretend you care about the lives of arrancar?”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Who’s pretending?”
 
He could sense his Espada’s reiatsu flare miles below him, feeling a flicker of pride that they would attack first. That pride was followed swiftly by anxiety. He didn’t want anyone to die, but this was their home, and the shinigami weren’t welcome here.
 
He spun his sword and settled into a crouch, his arm back, the sword tip resting at the level of his ankles. “Your fire might sting a little if I could still feel pain.

Show me your bankai.

”
 
“You’re a thousand years too early, Gaki. Arrogance doesn’t suit you.” He swung his sword again, flames filling his vision and bathing the sky in orange heat.
 
Ichigo swung Tensa Zangetsu just as the flames reached him, whispering, “Getsuga Tensho.” Black and red reiatsu arced from the edge of his sword, slicing straight through Ryūjin Jakka’s flames. Yamamoto’s attack carried on into the dark behind him, lighting up the endless night.
 
Ichigo stepped into a mix of sonido and shunpo, appearing beside Yamamoto. He cut straight for his gut, not so foolish as to think his blind spot wouldn’t be the first place he would expect him, so he avoided it.
 
The shinigami raised his sword to block in a blur, attacking in the same motion. Ichigo’s hand left his sword, raising his arm to shield his face. Flames scorching his cheek, arm and chest. They scorched straight through his blut vene at such a distance, down to bone and marrow.
 
His instant regeneration kicked in, rebuilding seared muscle and tissue in a heartbeat. He laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time someone besides Aizen had actually managed to hurt him. He had raw skill and instinct and power, but experience-wise, he was still below Yamamoto.
 
Yamamoto’s attacks increased in speed, abandoning such great force for a rapid exchange of blows. Ichigo parried and dodged most, Yamamoto’s Zanpakuto biting through flesh when he failed to fully block. The lack of pain was a problem, but one he’d already been overcompensating for.
 
Each sword strike sent a torrent of reiatsu spiralling off past the other’s blade, and Ichigo realized he felt nothing but steely determination from the soutaichou. He didn’t have the look of a butcher, he had the look of a man who steadfastly believed he was doing the honorable thing.
 
Yamamoto's flames licked from his blade when their swords clashed then held, both leaning into the other, and neither willing to take a step back. “You truly are a pitiable thing if you cannot feel pain.”
 
Ichigo angled his sword, forcing their blades apart, and charged a cero between his horns. “I don’t need your pity, I want you to

get out

.”
 
He fired his cero, and it clashed against a wall of flames. When it cleared, Yamamoto had made no effort to advance. Although his cero had forced him back quite a distance. He felt some pride in that, in having forced the strongest shinigami alive to fall back.
 
Ichigo’s eyes flicking down towards the desert below, too high to see, but he could sense their individual reiatsu. The Espada had paired off with the captains and their lieutenants, and from a quick survey, they were amusing themselves rather than fighting for keeps. At least they could follow orders.
 
Yamamoto asked, “Did you truly think there would be no consequences?”
 
He taunted, “I’m surprised it took you so long. What was the holdup? Couldn’t figure out how to open a garganta?” Ichigo was surprised by how talkative he felt. Maybe it was that he saw Yamamoto as more of an equal than a real enemy.
 
Yamamoto started forward at a leisurely walk. “Do you refuse to take this seriously, gaki? I came here to kill you.”
 
“I know. I can feel it every time our swords clash.” Ichigo felt no fear, he held his ground. “I have to admit, I’m enjoying myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to use a Getsuga without ending the fight.”
 
“You show such promise, it’s a shame you have to die.”
 
Ichigo wasn’t expecting to hear that, least of all from Yamamoto. He hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention. “I’m not dyin’ today.”
 
Ichigo rushed forward, stepping deftly around a gout of fire. He was faster, he could feel it. He circled Yamamoto, a Getsuga coating his blade. He danced out of reach, and when his fire touched him, his instant regeneration healed him. Yamamoto could attack from all directions, but it hardly mattered when he could cut straight through it.
 
He moved so quickly, he appeared to be in three places at once. He brought his sword down, firing three getsuga nearly simultaneously. “Getsuga Tensho!”
 
His power collided with itself from multiple directions, reacting violently. It twisted, a hurricane of red and black reiatsu, huge swaths of power spiraling from the point of impact.
 
His power hadn't even faded away before an arc of fire descended from above. He skipped out of the way, leaning on his speed to keep out of the way of the flames.
 
Yamamoto had surrounded himself with a fiery shield, making up for his lack of speed with what appeared to be perfect defense. He was shirtless, his shihakusho burned and tattered. Ichigo wasn't sure if the damage was caused by his own flames or his attack, but the man looked like he was feeling it.
 
Ichigo stopped some distance away, resisting the urge to shield his eyes from the light. After months of near darkness, it was blinding, and he wasn't sure if his aversion was from Alteza or his own preferences. “It's hardly any fun if you just stand there.”
 
“You think this is a game? You toss around power carelessly, you have the control of a child.”
 
Ichigo smiled, far from insulted; it was true. “I have a Quincy friend that gives compliments just like you.” He started to circle the soutaichou again, and the shinigami waited for Ichigo to make the first move. “You remember the Quincy? They sure as shit remember

you

.”
 
Yamamoto shifted to follow him as Ichigo moved. “Is that what this is about?”
 
“Not in the way you’re expecting.” Ichigo paused, his attention divided. He looked out into the desert, his grip on Tensa Zangetsu white-knuckled.
 
He could feel die Königin pull back, her attention drawn elsewhere. It felt like he’d had someone standing on his chest for 2 years, and he could finally breathe.
 
“Can you afford to be distracted? You left yourself open.”
 
Ichigo looked back, his lips turning up into a smirk. “Did I?” He mused, “I wonder why you didn’t take advantage?”
 
Yamamoto’s expression was concealed by the glare of his flames, but he could hear the baffled edge to his voice. He was thinking aloud. “This is a game to you. I’m a real threat, but your attacks are playful.”
 
Ichigo thought about denying it, but he really was a terrible liar. “Yes.”
 
“Either you’re more unstable than I first realized, or you know something I do not.” The condescending fringe that was present before was curiously absent.
 
Ichigo’s smile fell a little. “Are you ready to listen, jii-san?”
 
“That depends entirely on what you have to say.”
 
“Go home jii-san, I’m not your enemy, I keep telling you.”
 
“The raids prove otherwise.”
 
Ichigo pointedly looked down. “All of my strongest arrancar are right here, nearly all your captains are here. Who’s guarding Seireitei?”
 
“Is that a threat?”
 
Ichigo cocked his head. “Would all of my strongest be right here if it was?”
 
“A lie.”
 
“I ain’t that conniving, jii-san. I say what I mean. It’s a warning, you can choose to heed it or not.” He sheathed his bankai, not willing to drop out of it, but wanting to make a point. He was done fighting Yamamoto. Rather, he didn’t have a choice but to stop.
 
He raised his hands, palm up. The dark began to churn, becoming solid, tangible. He strained it straight out of the air, the desert below suddenly writhing in darkness. “It’s been fun, but I think she’s nearly ready to make her move.”
 
Yamamoto looked down warily, unsure if this was an attack. “She?”
 
“I wasn’t there, jii-san, I don’t know what you did, but she’s very angry, and you’re about to suffer the wrath of a God.” His brows furrowed. “Get out of here. She’s going to kill a lot of people.”
 
“The Quincy are dead.”
 
Ichigo scoffed. “So are we, is that stopping us?” He shook his head and announced, “I’m going to Soul Society.”
 
Yamamoto shifted into a lower stance. “No, you are not.”
 
“Stubborn old man…” Ichigo clenched his jaw, then stepped forward, through la sangre. He put his hand on his chest, that contact alone scorching. He pulled him into the darkness with him.
 
He stepped out and let him go, Yamamoto’s shikai flaring reflexively the instant he was free of the dark. Ichigo contained it within a sphere of dark, regenerating any damage that was caused. His fire bit down to bone, his shihakusho regenerating a bit more slowly. He chided. “Easy, you’ll kill your own. It’s unpleasant, but it’s just a side effect.”
 
He let the darkness fall away, noting that while Yamamoto was still standing, but he looked a bit worse for wear. Considering even Ulquiorra took a hit when he pulled him through la sangre, he couldn’t imagine how bad it was for someone who wasn’t a hollow.
 
He took note of his surroundings, la sangre curling close to him in a defensive barrier. If Yamamoto was feeling bitter and attacked him, la sangre would stop it. Seems his sudden tug on la sangre distracted both arrancar and shinigami, no one was fighting. He lifted his hand, snapping his fingers. A tear in the world opened, several meters across. It  “I’m going to Soul Society, you’re all welcome to join me.”
 
Soifon spoke up, because of course it was Soifon. “We have our own Garganta-what makes you think we’ll let you leave?!”
 
“It’s unstable. I’m

inviting

you.

Soifon

. Unless you would rather be invaded while your back is turned?”
 
Yamamoto grabbed his shoulder, his grip vice-like. He’d felt him reach, but there was no reiatsu behind it, so he let the soutaichou touch him. That didn’t mean he was happy about it. la sangre contracted and shivered in a reflection of his visceral distaste, the glare he shot the shinigami voicing his unspoken opinion. Yamamoto said, “If the quincy are invading Seireitei, what reason do you have to assist?”
 
“Die Königin is my concern. Well,” he glanced up at the sky, “

Alteza’s

concern. I don’t have a choice, although, in another life, I knew you rather well. I don’t want you to die, and I can do something about it.” He gestured towards the garganta. “Shall we? The way through my garganta is faster, and you’re running out of time.”
 
Yamamoto’s grip tightened and he could almost feel it, despite how numb he was. “Fine, gaki. It makes no difference if we fight here or in Soul Society.” He let go, shouting, “Fall back! We’ll return to soul Society through the garganta.”
 
Ichigo noticed shock cross everyone’s face, including the arrancar. Clearly they hadn’t been expecting Yamamoto to take his advice. He lost nothing by doing so, he’d be a fool to remain in Hueco Mundo when the risk of attack was so high.
 
Ichigo stepped into the garganta, looking back at the arrancar. They were scattered across the dunes, some a good distance away. He ordered softly, “With me.” They all couldn’t hear him, not at that distance, but he raised a hand to beckon them closer. They all stepped into sonido, appearing at his side in an instant.
 
They grouped together, their back to him, facing the shinigami. Harribel was closest, already in resurreccion, her shoulder nearly brushing his own. Her hair tickled his bare arm, his shihakusho still scorched from Yamamoto’s assault. She murmured, “What do you want us to do if the shinigami attack?”
 
Ichigo answered, “Flee. The Quincy are the real threat. Be careful.”
 
He looked to the shinigami. “Coming?”
 
Ichigo didn’t wait for a response, he disappeared in a blur of sonido, surprised to find Yamamoto keeping pace beside him. He acknowledged him with a glance, then kept on running, the end of the garganta already in sight. His casual dismissal seemed to be what Yamamoto needed to see, because the soutaicho didn’t attack him or try to stop him.
 
He stepped out above the dome over Seireitei, coming to an abrupt halt. The sky seemed too bright, and Ichigo wasn’t sure if that was a result of his time in darkness, or if it was actually bright, until he saw Yamamoto squinting.
 
He felt a sudden decrease in power, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Just as it had been in Hueco Mundo, eyes were opening in the sky above Seireitei. They glowered with the immense depth and intensity of the sun. They were too big, irises twitching and darting like small suns. He couldn’t feel her power, not with Alteza, but when he pulled on his quincy blood, he felt the concentration of reishi just above the dome.

There

.
 
He glanced at Yamamoto, teeth bared in a snarl. “She’s mine, but I expect her soldiers have already started.”
 
He’d barely finished speaking before an explosion erupted near the edge of Seireitei.
 
Yamamoto said, “You can’t expect me to ignore such a threat?”
 
“You can’t feel her power, you don’t have a God backing you up. Do what you can.

She’s mine.

” Ichigo didn’t let him argue, he jumped, moving even closer to the light that wanted to suffocate his power.
 
He stopped, standing in the sky not a few yards from her.
 
She glowed like the sun, it was hard to even see her. Her silhouette was barely noticeable against a pale blue sky, but she was

there

. She was as present and solid as a daydream, uniform tight in all the right places, conspicuously so. She was bonde, cape and hair tugged by the wind, billowing around a petite frame like fire. Her eyes were too bright; he couldn’t look directly at her, it hurt too much.
 
Her voice was airy, but sharp, clear. “Aaahhh, so the new host has decided to show his face? You seem determined to become a thorn in my side.”
 
Ichigo couldn’t help but pull the darkness in close, protecting himself. Alteza didn’t want him to be here, self preservation almost won out. He said, “Adaliz.”
 
The woman was stock still, like carved marble, then she moved, closing the distance between them almost faster than he could track. Ichigo stood so still he couldn’t even breathe. She lifted her hand, growing closer, closer, reaching for his cheek.
 
Her fingertips hovered just a breadth away from his skin, but never touched. Even if her pupils were obscured by light, he could see that she didn’t focus on anything in particular.
 
He suddenly understood. “You’re blind.”
 
Her fingers brushed his cheek, her touch painful, but not in a physical way; it burned his soul. He flinched, then held still as she stroked his cheek.
 
She said, “It whispers to you too, doesn’t it? Yes...I know it does. He use to tell me of the stories it told...” She let her hand fall. “Childish stories. Tales of death and loss and regret. Die Königin tells me stories too. Tales of loneliness and sorrow and rage...”
 Ichigo stilled, his throat tightening in sudden fear, but she continued. “It tells me stories about you, Ichigo. I know you. Your pain, your loneliness...” Her fingertips drew lines of fire across his cheek to his lips, “just as much as you know me.” 
He swallowed, blood rushing in his ears. Her silhouette was seared into his retinas, merely looking in her direction was painful, so he turned his head away. She caught his chin in her hand, stopping him, her nails digging into his jaw.
 
Her iron grip was suddenly gentle, like the brush of a lover.
 
Her voice was silky soft.
 
Adaliz whispered, “I’m going to kill you.”

--- xxx ---

Translations

:

Alteza: High King

Die Königin: The Queen

Das Licht: The Light

La barrera: the barrier

la sangre: the blood
 
Thanks for reading guys!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Being human is sometimes

the most inhumane thing we do...” -Pamela Rae

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

2 years ago
 
No signal.
 
He fussed with the phone Kisuke had lent him, but it still wouldn't work. Waving it around for reception was stupid and pointless; it worked off of ambient reishi and some other shenanigans he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“At least it still tells time.”

He grumbled, “Shut up.” To Ichigo’s surprise, he did. Then again, he’d just spent the better part of the day hunting down and destroying die Königin’s pillars, he had an excuse to be tired.

“You could ask Szayel. It’s why you left him alive, isn’t it?”

I was trying to avoid that.

“Don't be such a pussy.”

“Zangetsu,

please

.” He wasn’t in the mood to argue or banter. He’d barely gotten in a nap, he was far too anxious for his own good, and it was making him irritable. Irritability and Szayel mixed about as well as oil and water.
 
Ichigo stood, aware that at this point, Szayel was his only option. Scowling at the fucking phone wouldn't make it work. Short of opening a garganta and going to Karakura, he had no other way to reach Kisuke, or his family. He felt oddly isolated; he had no idea what was going on outside of Hueco Mundo, and it made him anxious.
 
Trying to leave Hueco Mundo now would be just as bad as pulling the table out from under a house of cards. Without him there to support their defenses, it would all collapse. Die Königin’s attack felt opportunistic, he had no doubt she wouldn't take advantage if he left.
 
He turned on the balcony, looking back into the darkness of the room, past it, through the walls at the various reiatsu burning within Las Noches. He could be selfish, but leaving would be a step too far. He had no way of knowing if she would attack Las Noches or not, and he wouldn’t risk it.
 
The arrancar weren’t helpless, but he wasn’t about to shirk his responsibilities.
 
He stepped into the dark before he changed his mind. He emerged only a few feet behind Szayel, and lucky for the Espada that he wasn’t doing anything particularly heinous. He was engrossed in whatever technological thing he was fussing with, and his reassurance in his own defenses meant he had his guard down.
 
Ichigo cleared his throat, and Szayel whirled. He backed into the table, a couple of tools rolling off and hitting the floor with ringing clatter that sounded far too loud for something so small. The Espada stared with wide eyes, frozen.
 
This was the first time they’d been alone in a room since Ichigo had tried to kill him. It was a little awkward.
 
His eyes fell the the claw marks on his cheek, and the Espada looked away.
 
He walked around the table and Szayel, giving him a bit of space. Distance didn’t matter when he could kill him in an instant, it was the thought behind it. He bent down and picked up the tools, setting them back on the table. “Easy, I'm not going to hurt you.”
 
A faint blush of shame colored the Espada’s cheeks, and Ichigo found he took no pleasure in it, no matter how much he hated him. Regardless of their status, no arrancar liked being caught in their fear, especially not one with an ego like Szayel’s. He pretended not to notice, taking the phone and setting it down on the table between them. “Is there any way to make this work?”
 
Szayel watched him warily, regardless of his reassurances, and reached for the phone. He slid it along the table slowly, then picked it up, flipping it open. He fussed with the screen, then started to take it apart, uncharacteristically quiet.
 
He poked at the insides for a moment, then leaned back from it and said, “The same energy that’s interfering with this is interfering with my equipment. Perhaps you're not aware of it…” He gave Ichigo a careful look, like criticizing him at all might earn his wrath.
 
Ichigo circled a hand in a gesture for him to continue. “Let's assume I'm not aware. Explain.”
 
Now that Szayel had permission, he eased a bit further, taking a tablet from the other end of the table. He tapped the screen a few times, then set it down facing Ichigo. The whole map display was varying shades of grey and black, the only exception was the white navigational text overplayed on top. Ichigo asked, “What am I looking at?”
 
“Massive reishi interference. This seems to occur whenever you use that ability of yours.”
 
Ichigo offered, “El sangre.”
 
The scientist made a mental note of it and continued, “It's been like this since just before you destroyed the dome.” Some of his usual attitude had slipped into his voice. It seemed talking shop was his comfort zone.
 
“I see…” In all reality, there was no other explanation, but he hadn’t wanted it to be true. He asked, “There’s no workaround?”
 
“If I had one, you would know about it.” His eyes lingered on the phone. “Who made it?”
 
He’d noticed how carefully monotone the scientist was, he was still tip toeing around him. “A former shinigami taicho.” He saw no reason not to tell the truth. It was the technology itself, not the creator, that he was worried about Szayel looking into.
 
“Would you allow me to study it?”
 
Ichigo thought about that for a long moment, enough that Szayel started to sweat. He looked down at the phone, his only indirect method of communication. It shouldn’t be a big deal, it would be beneficial to have the ability to communicate without sending messengers all over the place. It felt like he was giving up on his family.
 
It was a stupid concern to have, why did it feel so significant? He looked back up to Szayel. “If you put it back together, yes. It’s useless at the moment anyways.”
 
Szayel showed legitimate interest, dipping his head a fraction. “Thank you, heika.”
 
It was always odd to see Szayel so formal, Ichigo could see how forced it was. The scientist genuinely feared him, but he didn’t think he had any real respect. He didn’t really deserve it with the way he treated him, not when it came to Szayel. Distantly he thought he should be disgusted with himself, but that feeling never came.
 
From the sidelong glances, he got the impression he had something to say. “What's on your mind, Szayel?”
 
The scientist shifted. It was minute, but he was uncomfortable with the turn in subject. “Nothing, heika.”
 
Ichigo frowned, sensing that was a lie. “

Szayel

.”
 
The arrancar’s expression darkened, and he forced himself to meet Ichigo’s eyes. “Why did you heal the former fraccion, but not the former tres Espada?” Ichigo had hoped his fascination with broken masks might have shifted onto other pursuits, but it seemed he was mistaken.
 
Ichigo asked, “How did you know what she was?” Ichigo already knew why; the arrancar had played a part in her downfall, but he wanted to know if he would lie, or tell the truth.
 
The arrancar only hesitated for a second, watching him cautiously. “I was the one that helped Nnoitra defeat her.”
 
The truth? Interesting choice.

“Fear is a big motivator, King.”

He wasn’t sold on that being the reason, he thought Szayel might have taken pride in such a thing. Ichigo narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to know? Why do you care?”
 
His eyes narrowed, stuck on a problem he couldn’t solve. “She’s the only arrancar you can tolerate outside of your fraccion, and you haven’t healed her.”
 
“Why does that bother you?”
 
Szayel bared his teeth in frustration, then pulled his emotions back in check. It was clear that if he was talking to anyone else, by this point he might have resorted to violence. “I don’t understand why. You’re unpredictable.”
 
“

Like I said, King. Fear.”

This wasn’t something he needed to answer, but it didn’t feel right to continue to cultivate ill will. “She was a powerful ally in another life, but she never wanted to fight.” It ate at him every day, even when he saw her smile. Was this for the best?
 
Szayel leaned in, and the fascination on his face unsettled Ichigo. “Even if that means leaving her crippled?”
 
He felt a flicker of rage at the jab. Zangetsu urged him to draw blood, and Ossan urged him to remain still.
 
The scientist’s eyes glittered in curiosity. “Can you not fix her?”
 
If even Syazel could see the break in his pattern, then maybe this wasn’t the mercy he’d wanted it to be. That sparked doubt and rage. He knew where his rage stemmed from, and it didn’t feel just. He warned, “Don’t push your luck, Szayel.” The Espada paled at the steel in in voice, and wisely backed down.
 
Ichigo divorced himself from the conversation. “I’ll be back for the phone.” He stepped into the dark, taking himself towards the arrancar in question. He emerged just outside the door, hesitating.
 
Nel threw open the door, eyes wide. “Whyte!”  Even without any noticeable reiatsu signature, Nel noticed him. He had no idea how she did that.
 
Pesche was on the floor, tangled up in his own limbs. “Heika!” He shouted in surprise.
 
Nel launched at his chest, squeezing him around the middle. “Where ‘ave you been?!”
 
Wallowing in guilt...busy. Excuses. “Sorry, Nel.” He gave her an awkward hug; all of his hugs were awkward, but it didn’t make the sentiment any less genuine. “I didn’t realize how long it had been.”
 
“Ish you okay? Grimmy said whyte was fighting, an’ Nel shouldn’t bother you.”
 
Grimmjow? Ichigo was surprised to hear that. “He came to see you?”
 
Without opening his eyes, Starrk answered, “He checks in sometimes. You didn’t tell him to do that?” The Espada wasn’t sleeping for once, he sat with his legs crossed, meditating. Maybe that’s what Pesche had been attempting.
 
Lilynette leaned forward on Starrk’s head, supporting her weight on crossed arms. She drawled, “He’s a dick, tell him not to come around anymore.”
 
Nel protested. “Nel likes Grimmy! He’s mean to Nel an’ makes me cry.”
 
Ichigo wasn’t sure what to say about that, looking to Pesche for help. Her unofficial guardian shrugged. “Nel-sama appears to like him.”
 
He doubted Grimmjow would actually hurt Nel, but he couldn’t get over her masochistic desires.

“With the way you throw yourself into mortal danger, I’d be shocked if you weren’t a masochist.”

Ichigo chose to ignore that.
 
Lilynette snorted. “Nel likes just about everyone.”
 
He shifted Nel in his arms, his kosode already wet with tears. All of his anger at Szayel was forgotten, and now all that was left was regret. He asked Pesche. “Can I talk to you?”
 
The arrancar struck a sentai pose. “Of course!”
 
Ichigo huffed a sigh. “Alone, Pesche.”
 
His pose sagged, but his enthusiasm was no less than it always was. “Of course, heika!”

Ichigo winced at the formality and set Nel on the ground.
 
“You’re not leaving already?” Nel whined. She clung to his leg, tears in her eyes.
 
He rubbed her head, careful of his claws and smiled. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” It was the easiest promise he'd ever made.
 
She let him go, a frown mixing with a pout on her face. “Whyte better be back, or Nel will go looking for you!”
 
“Deal.” He stepped out into the hall, holding the door for Pesche.
 
The blonde arrancar followed, and it was almost jarring to see the shift in his demeanor when Nel was out of sight. He was still a deliberate idiot, but this was different. His playful edge was buried, and he was every ounce the fraccion he once was. He turned sharp, amber eyes on Ichigo and asked, “What did you wish to speak about, heika?”
 
“You know you don’t need to be so formal.”
 
Pesche smirked. “I know. What can I do for you?”
 
“It’s about Nelliel.” Pesche’s smirk wavered, sensing his question before he spoke it. “Is leaving her like this a mistake?”
 
“Heika?”
 
Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “She seems happy...but...”
 
Pesche finished his sentence for him. “Is it really our decision to make?”
 
They’d had this conversation before, briefly, and Ichigo had left the decision up to Pesche. He had to wonder how they’d come to be so close. They hadn’t ever shared, and it felt wrong to pry.
 
The arrancar pushed his hair out of his face, his eyes on the door to Starrk’s room. Even with just a few feet of distance between them, he couldn’t help but worry about her. He sounded tired, and he knew this had been eating away at him too. “Perhaps not. I don’t know if I could stand to see her suffer again. What would you do, heika?”
 
He wasn’t so sure, and his inner spirits were silent as they usually were when it came to matters of the heart. He could still remember her lying on the sand, bloody and beaten, teal hair clashing with red. He closed his eyes, letting out a hissing breath. “I think she deserves to choose.”
 
Pesche looked down. “As you say, heika.”
 
“Don’t just agree with me, say what you’re thinking.”
 
Pesche’s expression twisted, then he gave a sharp shake of his head. “My concerns are selfish, there’s no need to voice them.”
 
Ichigo thought he might press him, but the look on Pesche’s face stopped him short.
 
Ichigo reached out and squeezed his shoulder, hiding his own misgivings. “She was a reluctant warrior, but a warrior nonetheless. She deserves to make that choice.” He was so use to isolating himself and doing things on his own, but he was starting to see he was going about this the wrong way. He was so afraid of repeating the past, he was stealing the future from others.

Pesche’s expression shifted, looking up at him. “What if this is a mistake?” The arrancar was uncertain, afraid, he needed someone to take away the burden of that choice. Maybe he didn’t

need

that, but Ichigo was determined to be that person. He’d chosen to be king, and did he want to be the sort of king who was too cowardly to rule?
 
Ichigo let his hand drop. “Then I’ll shoulder the blame, not you.” He gave him a soft smile. “You want her to be happy, Nel wouldn’t find fault in that, and you know it.”
 
Ichigo turned back for the room, waiting for Pesche to get his emotions under control. He gave him all the time he needed, this wasn't an easy decision to come to. Personally, he was afraid, but the path he’d taken previously wasn’t right, he couldn’t continue like this and still call it mercy..
 
He opened the door to find Nel launching herself at his face. He caught her before she could coat him in drool, holding her at arm's length with a small grin. Now that he’d made his choice, he felt a little better, more certain.
 
“Whyte! You came back!”
 
“Hey, Nel. Of course I did.” He set her down, and Pesche hovered behind him, looking a bit ill.
 
Nel looked up, eyes wide. “Ish something wrong?”
 
Nel wasn’t stupid, just smaller, more forgetful. Ichigo crouched down in front of her, lifting his hand to the crack on her mask. His touch was light, he couldn’t help seeing her as fragile. “Will you let me fix this?”
 
Her head cocked to the side. “Fix…? Nel hasn’t always been like this?”
 
Ichigo’s expression softened. “No.Nel...will you let me help you?”
 
She crossed her arms, brows scrunched in thought. “Help me?”
 
He lowered his hand to the side of her face, and the tenderness surprised her, eyes snapping back to his. He said, “Yes. But only if you let me.”
 
Pesche stepped up beside him, his tone a touch deeper, serious. “It’s going to hurt Nel, a lot, but it will make you whole again.”
 
A frown crossed her face, and a look of acute clarity settled on her face. “That’s okay with Nel.”
 
Ichigo shifted his hand back to her mask, calling on el sangre. He gave her a small smile, one she struggled to return. “Deep breath, Nel. Try to relax.”
 
“...Okay.”
 
She was so small, he was loathe to cause her pain at all, but this was the only way he knew of short of taking her to Orihime, and he didn’t want to involve her if he didn’t need to, no matter the cost. Maybe that was foolish and selfish, but it didn’t change the result.
 
He closed his eyes, darkness surging up to meet him halfway. He felt Nel’s reiatsu, soft, churning just beneath his fingertips. So much if it had been draining away, but her reiryoku was still powerful.
 
He reached for that strand of darkness inside of her, careful not to disrupt his hold over the outer reaches of Hueco Mundo. He was forced to lessen his control, but it held. The darkness at the core of her being arced towards el sangre like lightning, snapping tight like a livewire.
 
Nel screamed, the sound shaking his heart. Keep going,

focus

.
 
He found the tear in her soul, the piece of her that kept crumbling away, unable to be build upon. He started to stitch it together, her screams falling to the wayside. He fell into the dark, clung to it, and held himself back, so careful not to break her.
 
It was slow going, especially with his attention divided between Nel and Hueco Mundo.
 
He had no idea how much time had passed, but when he pulled away, he was damp with sweat, and Nel was unconscious, dark circles under her eyes. He was hunched over Nel, Pesche right beside him looking haggard. The arrancar had his hand in hers, and Ichigo saw that she clung to her fraccion in a deathgrip.
 
Ichigo pulled his hands from her head, her mask complete. He murmured, “Almost...” He broke his connection to her reiryoku, and her reiatsu exploded around her in a wall of light. He squeezed his eyes shut, and somehow, Pesche managed to keep ahold of her hand.
 
The light sank back into Nel’s skin, fading to reveal a larger, more familiar form. She was once again in the body of a woman. Lying so still, he could help the irrational panic that she was dead. Ichigo’s heart twisted, reminding himself she was alive, he could feel her reiatsu, she was right there. The Nel that lived in his nightmares was gone forever, there was no Aizen to cut her down.
 
She suddenly gasped, and Ichigo flinched, broken from the loop in his thoughts. She squeezed Pesche’s hand so tightly he grimaced, but the relief on his face was apparent. She blinked up at the ceiling, then looked to the side. Soft brown eyes met Pesche’s, and she smiled.
 
“Nelliel-sama…” He bit his lower lip, tears building up in his eyes. He started to sob, and her smile only deepened, reaching up to wrap her hand around his head, pulling him into her chest. He cried harder, and her hands tangled in his hair. “Don’t cry, Pesche.” She teased, “I thought you would be happy to see me?”
 
He was crying too hard to string together proper sentences, and she let out a breathy chuckle. “If I wasn’t so tired, I’d put a stop to that.”
 
She turned her head, looking up at Ichigo. His brows fell in regret, struggling to keep eye contact. Leaving her as she was had been a mistake.
 
He looked away and she chided, “

White

...look at me.”
 
He fought himself to look back, somehow feeling both foolish and justified in his regret. He knew what he'd see when he looked back, but facing it was still hard. Forgiveness brightened chestnut eyes. It felt undeserved, but it was simply her nature. She could be a vengeful creature when she wished to be, but she had a kind heart.
 
He apologized, “I'm sorry that took so long.”
 
She smiled wryly. “I would have been hard pressed to know what to do in that situation myself. I sort of miss it, perhaps you'd think me a coward for saying so.”
 
Ichigo shook his head. “You're not a coward.”
 
Her lips turned up into a soft smile, reaching beside her to grasp her Zanpakuto. Its weight seemed to reassure her. “Of course you would say so.”
 
Starrk got up and moved to her side, draping his coat over Nel like a blanket. He muttered, “Who knew the brat was so busty?”
 
She accepted it with a playful smirk, her melancholy veil lifting. “I knew you liked me.”
 
Ichigo blushed, not having noticed how little her clothes now covered. It was worse than skimpy, it bordered on lewd.
 
Lilynette groused, “Che, she's so plain, her tits are the best bit on her.”
 
Pesche sat bolt upright, his cheeks flushed. “You take it back. Nel-sama isn't plain, you're just jealous because you're flat!”
 
Lilynette fumed. “F-fuck you! I just haven't grown into them yet!”
 
Nel let out a little squeal of delight. “I'm getting so much attention, how exciting.”
 
Lilynette turned her attention back to Nel, scowling. “I liked you better as a brat.”
 
“You

do

like me!”
 
“T-that's not what I said!”
 
Starrk sat and growled, “

Ladies

, you're both awful. Now that you're not a brat and I don’t have to chaperone, maybe it’ll finally be quiet.”
 
Ichigo watched them with a small smile, pleased that nothing had changed. He doubted Starrk truly wanted peace and quiet, he wouldn’t have put up with Nel so long otherwise.
 
He felt like he could breathe again, he hadn’t realized how much this had been weighing him down. He said, “That's right, you can have your old quarters back, wherever they were.”
 
Nel smiled at that suggestion, a weariness still weighing her down, but she was the Nel he remembered. She lifted her arms and made grabbie hands. “Help me up.”
 
Pesche protested, “Nel-sama, you should rest.”
 
She pouted, flopping back on the ground with a dramatic sigh. Her eyes widened, thinking up a compromise. “Ah!

Clothes

, I need clothes.” She reached for Ichigo again since Pesche wasn’t being cooperative. “Help me up.”
 
“Nel-sama...” Pesche was distraught, but he couldn’t help but give in.
 
Ichigo sighed, but his heart wasn’t in it, he just couldn’t say no. “Fine, but if you collapse, I’m not helping you.” That was a lie, but he was trying to discourage her. It didn’t really work. She took his hand and he hoisted her up, a broad grin on her face. Her legs held, even if she wobbled a bit.
 
The coat slipped, and Ichigo caught it, looking elsewhere for modesty’s sake, and held it out for her to take. She bit her lower lip, giggling. “Aw, is the big, bad king of the hollows shy?”
 
Ichigo blushed and defended. “It’s rude to stare, isn’t it?”

Nel held the coat to her chest with a small smirk, waving to Starrk. “Thanks, grumpy. I’ll bring it back.”
 
Lilynette barked, “Keep it, slut! Like I want to smell you all over Starrk.”
 
If she was upset by this, Nel was terrible at showing it. She flushed. “You’re picking up a lot of colorful language from Grimmjow. I approve.”
 
“Shut the fuck up!”
 
Nel’s smile turned sly. “You always know what to say.” She turned to leave, weaving a bit, but she didn’t fall. Pesche hovered like a concerned parent.
 
Lilynette kept spouting insults, and Starrk did his best to tune it out. Ichigo paused at the threshold and said, “Thanks for protecting her.”
 
Lilynette blushed like she’d been caught, folding her arms. “Yeah, whatever.”
 
A smile found its way to Ichigo’s face. He was reminded of Karin, he missed her. The pain wasn’t as sharp as he was expecting. It was the dull ache of homesickness, not the crippling pain of loss. He was surprised to find he was happy. It was always such a fleeting feeling, it felt foreign in his chest.
 
He turned away, joining Nel and Pesche in the hall. Nel was chattering about finally being tall again, pleased with herself for not falling on her face. Ichigo had to admit that impressed him too. With all the strain he was under from Alteza, he was definitely feeling it, but not so much that he was going to halt his plans.
 
She looked at him, her expression shifting into something more meaningful. “Are

you

okay?”
 
She’d just gotten her body back, she’d lost her friend, nearly lost Pesche, and she was asking him how

he

was. He smiled again. “Better than I’ve been in awhile, I think.”
 
She smiled back. “Good. You always look so sad, it’s nice to see you smile.”
 
It was startling to know how closely she’d been watching him, but not unwanted. He went with them to get her something to wear, needing the distraction. He waited outside the room until she was dressed, but Pesche stayed put to help.
 
Despite her prevailing, brusque attitude, she always dressed so modestly. She chose something tight fitting with long sleeves that came up high on her neck. Even her pants and belt were tight fitting, she didn’t show any skin at all; not that the form fitting clothes left anything up to the imagination. With her Zanpakuto at her side, she was the spitting image of the ghost from his past.
 
She chose a pair of gloves to complete the ensemble, waggling her fingers to pull them snug. Her lips turned up into a pleased grin. “That’s better.” She draped the coat over her arm and bounced a question off of both of them. “Where are we? I don’t even know which direction to go to see if our old quarters are still around.”
 
Ichigo’s frame of reference revolved around the moon and Alteza’s movements, he wasn’t sure how to answer. That aside, with the way the structure changed, they wouldn’t be what she remembered. He offered, “I can make you someplace new, if you want?”
 
She looked to him with wide eyes. “Really, you can do that?”
 
Pesche said, “You saw those strange pyramids that just appeared in the desert? There’s rumors from some of the arrancar that swear he made them.” He looked at Ichigo. “You brought the dome down, didn’t you?”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “I did. That was in question?”
 
Pesche shrugged. “You don’t tell anyone anything, all they have are rumors. I heard one when I was in the med bay where they think you’re Aizen’s son.”
 
“What?!”
 
Pesche gave him another helpless shrug. “No one is brave enough to actually ask you.”
 
Ichigo hadn’t thought about it from their perspective. “Am I that frightening?”
 
The arrancar glanced at Nel, then started slowly. “Even if they weren’t there to see it, they heard what you did to Szayel, they felt your rage. Some of the lesser arrancar could barely breathe, and you were miles away. Was that not your intention?”
 
Ichigo frowned, and Nelliel watched silently. He had known his actions would have consequences, but he hadn’t actually considered what that meant. Beyond the Espada, he barely interacted with the arrancar at all. He was making an effort, he really was, but it was just his nature to keep to himself.
 
If they feared him, what was the difference between himself and Aizen?
 
Nelliel finally spoke up. “What did you do to Szayel?”
 
Shame prickled his heart, and while he didn’t regret what he’d done, he didn’t want to tell her. She waited for his answer, and he wondered just why it had to hurt so much to say. “I tortured him.” There was no pretty way to frame it.
 
He continued, “I was going to kill him, but Harribel changed my mind.” He was still surprised he hadn’t attacked her too, he’d been so angry.
 
Nel’s voice grew harder. “No one told me this.”
 
Pesche’s expression fell. “I’m sorry, Nelliel.”
 
“Don’t apologize for my shortcomings,” Ichigo chastised. He’d done it, it wasn’t Pesche's responsibility to explain his actions away. “I made him bleed and I enjoyed it. It wasn’t all for your sake, it was just the spark.”
 
A wave of bloodlust carried Zangetsu’s words.

“You should have finished it.”

He couldn't say the urge was entirely unwanted, it was still his own desire, and denying it was pointless. What mattered was whether he indulged it or not. “I’m not proud of what I did.” As foolish as it sounded now, he'd been hoping for the fantasy where she never found out. He couldn't help fearing how she would judge him for it.
 
She stepped up to him, and Ichigo found he couldn’t untangle her expression. She studied him, and Ichigo struggled not to fidget. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Remorse? “I still don’t know you very well yet, but you don’t seem the type to be overly merciful, I’m sure you have your reasons for leaving him alive.”
 
She didn't ask him why he'd done it, she just lifted a gloved hand to his cheek. “Don't be ashamed, it doesn't suit you.” Her touch was gentle and fleeting, a mirror of what he'd just done to comfort her.
 
Her tone shifted into something more formal. “When I’m back up to speed, I want to speak to him.”
 
He didn’t like others asking him for permission to do things, it didn’t feel right. “You’re free to do as you wish, Nelliel.”
 
A small smile found its way onto her face. “You’re king, aren’t you? Kings rule things.” She gave him a teasing look, like he was slow.
 
It wasn’t a complicated concept, nor anything new, but he was taken aback.
 
Kings rule. What he’d done wasn’t ruling, it might be terrorizing at best.

What am I doing, Zangetsu?

“In general, or right at this moment?”

The question was sarcastic, Zangetsu knew exactly what he meant, but he was making him answer it himself.

“I was hoping if I called you king long enough, you’d remember. Took your damn time.”

Nel continued where they’d left off, like nothing had changed. “Can I get something tall? Oh! And lots of windows.

Please

.”
 
“Sure, come on, you can show me where. It doesn't take long.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck
 
White had done what he'd promised and then some. She lay on her back on her bed, staring up at a distant ceiling. Her room was open to the desert, she’d insisted. After so long spent wandering it, it felt more like a home than this. A chilly, soft breeze teased her hair, loose strands tickling her cheek. How strange that the place that had once caused her such distress was so quickly becoming her home.
 
As she laid there, she noticed small details here and there that set it apart it from the fortress she remembered.
 
Along the edges of the ceilings were engraved designs, stylized, blocky pictures of hollows and things she didn’t recognize. She didn’t think White included them on purpose, the same way he was subtly changing the layout of the walls and the doors. No longer were the halls great empty expanses devoid of character. Slowly but surely, White was erasing Aizen’s mark on Las Noches.
 
He didn't have to keep doing all of this for her, he'd already done so much, but it seemed to make him happy. She didn’t think much made him happy, she could let him have this..
 
She threw her arm back and up on the bed and closed her eyes, sensing Pesche’s reiatsu not a hundred paces away. The distinct lack of Dondochakka’s presence was a constant thorn in her heart. She was supposed to be resting, but her mind wouldn’t stop wandering now that all her thoughts and memories were in one place.
 
She bit her lip, stifling a sob. She missed him so much, and now that she remembered everything, it was like losing him all over again. She cried in silence, knowing how much it would hurt Pesche to hear it. Tears wouldn’t bring him back, but it hurt so much.
 
She draped her arms over her face, whispering his name in a curse. “

Szayelaporro.

” She didn’t want to cry anymore, not like this.
 
White seemed to be allowing her to decide if she should take her vengeance or not, and she was still conflicted. It didn’t feel just that Szayel could kill her friend, her brother, without suffering the same fate, but from the sound of it, White had doled out his own punishment. If it pushed him to outright torture, she didn’t think she wanted to know his reasons why. If he told her, that was another story entirely, but she wouldn’t go digging for his demons. That White had let Szayel live made her stop to think.
 
She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, remembering the weight and intensity of White’s reiatsu. He hadn’t been focusing it on her, White had been so careful of that. How someone so powerful could manage to be so gentle was unusual. She wondered what came first, his gentle nature, or his desire for violence. For the looks of him, not even White knew the answer.
 
She sniffed, wiping away her tears and tried to sleep. She needed to see Syazel, speak with him. Then she would know.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Finding Szayel wasn't hard, but she was wary about walking into his den alone. Her strength was back, and while she didn't doubt she might be a little rusty, she knew her limits.
 
She only hesitated a moment, but it seemed Szayel knew she was there, none of the doors stopped her. She had a feeling that on his own, he might have shut himself in and ignored her, but knowing who she was, he let her inside. She wondered if he was under orders to, or if the curiosity was simply eating at him.
 
She found him waiting for her, not in his lab, but a large, open space. He seemed to be expecting a fight, or at the very least, unpleasantness.
 
His voice echoed. “Nelliel...it's been a long time.”
 
A frown creased her face, and she felt a flicker of hot rage. “You know what I want. You killed Dondochakka.”
 
A look of pure disgust flitted across Szayel’s face. “His abilities were interesting, but he was ultimately too inferior to survive experimentation.” He shifted and his hair fell away from his cheek, a scar he was struggling to hide.
 
Four deep claw marks marred the side of his face, stretching over his eye, the bridge of his nose, and his cheek. There was a fracture in the top of his mask, a sliver, nothing so bad as her own, but it was likely a detriment. She realized who put them there. She said, “It’s not like you to let a wound scar.”
 
His eyes widened, turning away  just enough that she couldn’t get a good look. Shame? Self-loathing, hate, and fear. He flickered through them all almost too quickly to catch, but it seemed it was pathetically easy to rub salt in this particular wound. He hissed, “I tried.”
 
White seemed to know how to hit him where it hurt, she couldn’t say she didn’t approve. If he couldn’t heal himself, it must have been from the reiatsu in the wound preventing it, and with reiatsu like White’s, it was no wonder it wouldn’t heal. She asked, “Why Dondochakka?”
 
Genuine frustration leaked into his voice. “Because I couldn’t get my hands on

you

.”
 
“Me?”
 
He said, “Your mask was broken, yet you somehow survived. I wanted to know why. Your fraccion was interesting, but nothing like you.” He curled his lip in a snarl. “Now that opportunity is gone.”
 
She assumed he meant because she was healed.
 
He took a small step back, and she realized he was preparing to fight. She was still undecided, but he thought she was there to kill him.
 
She noticed his fraccion hanging back in the hall, and she wondered if the reason he had yet to attack her was because he was under orders not to. He seemed to be struggling against the idea, and she pegged him as an opportunist. If there was ever a more opportune moment than her standing alone smack in the center of his territory, she didn’t know was.
 
He hissed, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to crave something and never attain it?”
 
“Tough, Szayel.”
 
He sneered. “I'm not talking about

you

, imbecile, I'm talking about knowledge! The world and all its imperfection sickens me, but within that chaos there’s order, there’s the mundane expectation that the things we know to be true, can be relied upon to never change. All of you are stepping stones, nothing but expendable tools towards attaining perfection.

Do you understand?

”
 
She frowned, wondering what had shaken him so badly. It had been a long time, but he was different. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he stood. She felt like something had been taken from him. This wasn’t a simple case of defeat, a loss of pride. “What happened to you?”
 
The question struck a nerve, and he reached for his sword. He hesitated, but her own hand alighted on the hilt of her Zanpakuto. She asked, “You want to fight, why won’t you draw?”
 
His expression twisted into a sneer. “He’s watching, he’s

always

watching. If I fight you, he’ll kill me.”
 
That was confusing to her, she wasn’t sure if Szayel was being literal or not. She asked, “White threatened you?”
 
Szayel’s expression twisted and he started to laugh. There was a crazed gleam in his eyes, too much of the whites were showing. “That dog, Starrk, kept you close, you were protected, but your little pets weren’t. Who cares about two ruined arrancar?”
 
“I care!”
 
He spat, “And so did he. What good is weakness? But I miscalculated-I’m never wrong! He doesn’t need to threaten-I see now. White nearly killed me over an insignificant toy...if I hurt

you

...”
 
Nel felt something strange grasp her heart. Pity. Szayel had nothing but his own pride and intellect, and somehow that had betrayed him. Taking his life might even be considered a mercy, but when he was so afraid of fighting back...she wouldn’t become a butcher. There was vengeance, then there was...this. “I’m not going to kill you.”
 
Surprise flashed in his eyes, followed quickly by suspicion. He squeezed the hilt of his Zanpakuto, she could see him struggle not to draw it.  “Then why are you here, Nelliel? To gloat?”
 
She narrowed her eyes at the accusation. “No, unlike you, I’m not sadistic.” She let go of the hilt, and took a step back. She hadn’t been lying to him, she didn’t intend to kill him. She had been prepared to, but this ‘punishment’ White had inflicted wasn’t what she had been expecting. She wasn’t sure if this was White’s intention or not, but it certainly wasn’t mercy.
 
He let out a breath in relief, but he didn’t relax. His tone was flat, he was relaying a fact. “There’s no way to heal a broken mask.”
 
Yet there she stood as living proof. If one example wasn’t enough, Pesche was still alive and kicking, hell, he was even stronger than before.
 
Szayel’s expression grew pained. “White breaks the rules, I still haven’t found a way to detect his reiatsu, if it even

is

reiatsu. Water isn’t wet anymore, do you understand?” He let out a breathy laugh and turned away. Nel didn’t think he trusted her not to attack him, but he knew well enough she wouldn’t attack him from behind. Turning away was probably the most defensive thing he’d done.
 
He walked away with a mutter. “Of course you don’t.”
 
She watched his back as he retreated down the hall, his fraccion nearly tripping over themselves to get out of his way.
 
She left, her heart a bit lighter, but her mind was cluttered with more questions. Being trapped as a child had cut her out of the loop, no one had told her anything. As infuriating as that was, she understood why. As a child, what could she have done?
 
She tried looking for White, then gave up, seeking out Grimmjow. The Espada had pretty good control for such a hothead, but picking him out of a crowd was simple. “Oy! Grimmy!”
 
The Espada’s shoulders locked up in visceral rage. He whirled. “Call me that again and I’ll rip your throat out!” Halfway through his insult he lost steam, staring at her with wide eyes. “You-you’re the

brat

-shit, did he actually fix you?”
 
She crossed the distance to him. “I’m glad you approve, but I’m looking for White.”
 
His expression settled back into a scowl. “I ain’t his keeper, find him yourself.”
 
“It’s important. You can sniff him out, can’t you?”

Grimmjow played dumb. “...Yeah, and?”
 
She crossed her arms and her lips turned down into a pout. “So find him, or did you have something better to do?”
 
“Hey! I do shit.” He looked behind her, and back. “Where’s your shadow?”
 
“Pesche? Sleeping.” She answered somewhat guiltily. She'd gone to see Szayel without him, she knew he wouldn't approve, but it was something she'd wanted to do on her own without worrying him. “Don't change the subject.”
 
He looked annoyed that she'd seen through his ruse. He planted his feet, and his argument shifted from laziness to a pure denial of her request. “What did you want him for? He's busy.”
 
She couldn't easily argue against that, but she wondered if there was a reason she couldn't ask Grimmjow instead. The arrancar was closest to White, he would probably be able to answer. She asked slowly, “What happened with Szayel?”
 
He gave her a hard look. “Ask someone else, it's all they can fuckin’ talk about.”
 
She argued, “I'm asking what actually happened, I don’t want rumors. No one short of an Espada can even function under the pressure of White’s reiatsu.”

“Fine, then ask White.”
 
She asked, “Why won’t you talk about it?”
 
“Maybe he doesn’t want you to know!”
 
She blinked. “You’re protecting him.”
 
His eyes widened at the accusation, then narrowed in a snarl. “Fuck off, ask someone else.” He turned and shoved his hands in his pockets, but Nel kept pace, having to lengthen her stride to keep up with the taller Espada.
 
She knew White considered Grimmjow a friend, but given White’s reluctance to burden others, asking him outright wasn’t likely to yield an answer. She said, “White told me he tortured Szayel, but he didn’t say why. Szayel isn’t the type to buckle under pressure, but he’s different now. I just want to know what happened.”
 
Grimmjow kept walking, he pretended to ignore her, but she could see he was thinking. She let it lie and walked next to him in silence. His pace slowed a bit, and she could see some of his rage leaking from his posture. So he wasn’t angry, only defensive. Eventually he spoke. “You noticed too?”
 
He paused, but Nel was quiet, not about to comment and ruin her chance. He continued, “I don’t think it’s a secret, but White’s all scarred up, and not all of them are from battle. He doesn’t really tell me all that much, but I think Aizen and Szayel fucked him over more than he wants to admit. Sounds like Aizen had an unhealthy obsession with him, fuck if I know why.”
 
He seemed to remember she’d asked about Szayel, and circled back to give her a real answer. “White had it out for Szayel from the beginning, but I don't think it was the bloodlust, it freaks him out that he can't sense White’s reiatsu. I've kinda gotten use to it, but Szayel just seems to get more and more jumpy. He’s always been a crazy fucker, but he’s...gotten weird. Don’t ask me why. White ripped his limbs off and cut him up pretty good, but I don’t think that’s what unsettles him.”
 
“If he’s unstable, why let him live?”
 
Grimmjow stopped, looking up. “What did he call it….R and...I dunno, he’s our only smart guy, he’s the only one the knows how to use the surveillance.”
 
That made practical sense, but she still felt there was something she was missing. She said, “Szayel said White was watching him, he wouldn’t even draw his sword when he thought I was going to kill him. Is he?”
 
Grimmjow thought about that, rubbing his neck. He looked back at her. “Probably. I mean, the last time he stopped watching him, he killed your friend, didn’t he?”
 
Her eyes widened. “He can’t blame himself for that?”
 
Grimmjow stared at her, then burst into laughter. It bounced around the hall and she scowled, feeling foolish, but she wasn’t sure why. He mocked, “What a retarded question. Are you serious?” He kept chuckling to himself, turning and walking away.
 
She kept pace and asked, “Why’s that so funny?”
 
“Because White blames himself for everything.” He growled, “Arrogant, condescending fuckhead thinks he can control everything and everyone.”
 
She still couldn’t decide if she was offended or not that White felt the need to hover, even if it was in the metaphysical sense.
 
Like he could read her thoughts, he glanced at her and muttered, “Annoying, ain’t it?”
 
She frowned deeper, and doubled back to her first request. “I want to see White.”
 
“Where the hell do you think we’re going?”
 
Oh. She hadn’t thought Grimmjow would indulge her so easily, not when he had such a bad attitude about everything. Her thoughts weighed on her too heavily to make small talk, and so they walked in silence.
 
Their footsteps tapped an offbeat rhythm, and she noticed the same designs softly etched into the walls, like a drawing in sand softened by waves. She wasn’t sure she had ever even seen a beach, but somehow the analogy came to mind as readily as a smile.
 
Given she couldn’t sense White’s reiatsu, she had no idea how far they were going. She pointed at a design to their left and asked. “Is White doing that?”
 
He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
 
“You’re not curious?”
 
He scanned the designs as they walked, then shrugged again. “Probably. He’s usually distracted, I doubt he even realized he was doing it if he is.”
 
“Distracted?”
 
“You ask a lot of fucking questions.”
 
She tried not to roll her eyes. “

A lot

of people decided not to tell me anything.”
 
He made an annoyed sound. “He’s got that thing whispering at him all damn day, and now some other fucker is pressing in on the edges of Hueco Mundo.”
 
“The edges of...what?”
 
“The edge of the world, alright! I saw it, he ain’t fuckin’ around. I’ll just go out on a limb and assume that the weird shit that happened was because he got distracted fixing you.”
 
Her brows fell, not liking the sound of being a burden. She’d done enough of that as a child, but she’d even gotten in the way without realizing? “What happened?”
 
“The moon was blocked out, it was dark as all fuck.” He sounded annoyed, but she thought she caught an undercurrent of fear. “I’m assuming he knew that would happen, he’d been going around since then reassuring all the pussies that the world isn’t ending. Well,

yet

, anyway.”
 
He looked at her, like he was just now realizing how out of the loop she was. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”
 
“Why would I

pretend

to be stupid!?”
 
He snorted. “Like you’d have to pretend.”
 
She backhanded his arm without thinking about it, it was playful, but this was

Grimmjow

. She stiffened immediately afterward, but he didn’t react. That was unexpected.
 
Grimmjow continued like she hadn’t touched him at all. “That Quincy bitch, Königin, is forcing Kuro-White on the defensive, according to him. I was at the edge of the world, it’s encroaching, slowly, she’s stronger. He can’t keep this up forever.” She dismissed his slip, not finding it odd he would try to call him Black. A nickname? Grimmjow didn’t seem like the type.
 The other Espada seemed to tense when he spoke about this Königin. She thought back on how tired White had looked, and realized Grimmjow’s fears were justified. She had no idea this was even a threat, she couldn’t see it or feel it...that was frightening. Now she thought she understood Szayel’s fear, his ramblings suddenly made much more sense.  
She couldn’t quite keep the bite out of her voice. “Why didn’t he tell me any of this?”
 
Grimmjow’s expression went carefully blank when he looked back at her. She’d written him off as a brusque idiot, but that look was sharp and unsettling. He said, “I already told you why. He shoulders the blame for everything. You want him to tell you something, you might have to try to beat it out of him.” He looked away, and she could only wonder at the shift in his mood. Whatever the cause, it seemed White was fond of his secrets.
 
They walked in silence after that, but not for too long before she heard the sound of swords clashing. From the ring of them, there were three, and with reiatsu like that, she thought they must be at or near Espada rank.
 
They turned a corner into a room with a towering ceiling, wide, red columns framing the missing wall that opened up into Hueco Mundo. White stood within a ring of three arrancar, one with a red marking around her eye, the other with long sleeves and long, black hair, and the other with wild, brown hair and deeply tanned skin.
 
They moved well together, never getting in each other’s way, never stepping out of place, but their dance wasn’t enough to land a hit on White. He stepped out of the way of their attacks with an ease that seemed to infuriate all but the black haired one. That one moved in a serpentine, flowing way, never wasting a movement, or losing herself to an emotion.
 
Behind them she noticed a blonde arrancar leaning against the wall, but she watched the three with intense scrutiny. Her eyes never settled on White, she wasn’t judging his performance, only theirs.
 
White looked in their direction, raising a hand in a wave. The one with wavy, wild hair attacked him from behind, her sword passing through his after image. White now stood behind her, not perturbed. He called out. “Yo. Gimme a minute.”
 
“A minute?!” the short one roared.
 
He gave her a flat stare. “I’m being generous, you’ve almost worn yourself out. Well, Sung-Sun seems fine, but you’re slowing her down.”
 
They started again, and Grimmjow turned to leave, a bored look on his face. She turned to watch him go, lifting a hand in a wave goodbye, even if he couldn’t see it. “Thanks, Grimmjow.”
 
“Yeah, whatever.”
 
She watched the three again attempt to hit White, but they didn’t stand a chance. Now that White had pointed it out, she could see the two were indeed dragging Sung-Sun down.
 
He put an end to it quickly enough, knocking them all flat on their ass, seemingly simultaneously.
 
He looked down at the brown hair one and said, “You’re still fighting like you’re holding a shield. You should use both hands, there’s no reason not to if it isn’t occupied.”
 
The arrancar grit her teeth in annoyance; clearly this wasn't the first time she'd gotten this criticism.
 
White looked between them and introduced them. “This is Nelliel, Nelliel, this is Mila, Apacci, and Sung-Sun.” He leaned out of the way of a sucker punch from Apacci and nodded his head towards the blonde without missing a beat. “And Harribel.”
 
Nel dipped her head in acknowledgment. “We’ve met.” Harribel had no comments to make about that. They'd run into each other in the halls, and after hearing so much about her, it was interesting to see her in person. She was more reserved than the rumors had made her out to be.
 
Harribel saw Apacci winding up again and stepped into Sonido, stopping her old fraccion’s hand short. “Thank you, White. They've been getting too comfortable fighting me, they were getting lazy.” Apacci growled, but deflated now that Harribel had stepped in.
 
He shrugged, offering Mila a hand up. She scowled at it, then took it. It's not like she needed the help, but as far as gestures of goodwill, that was a fairly big one.
 
He turned away to cross over to where Nelliel stood. He called over his shoulder. “See ya. You guys are getting better, don't get frustrated.”
 
Sung-Sun must have said something, because the three suddenly burst into an argument over who was holding them back the most. Nel bit her lip through a grin, wondering how they could work so well together yet still butt heads.
 
White got closer and smiled a bit. “Feel better?”
 
“Much.” She cut straight to the point. “I spoke with Szayel.”
 
His smile wavered. “I know.”
 
He gestured for her to walk with him as he passed her by and she joined him. She accused. “So you

are

watching him.”
 
He winced and admitted. “I watch all of you, but I admit, I've had a close watch on Szayel, and you.”
 
“You don't need to watch me.”
 
He watched her carefully, gauging her tone. She hadn’t meant it to sound defensive, but it had. He seemed to be struggling over what to say. “That upsets you.”
 
She realized that it did, and it wasn’t over the fact he was concerned for her safety, but that even mere observation had changed Szayel’s behavior. “I’m not helpless anymore.”
 
He looked ahead, his voice quiet. “I know. This was the only compromise I could settle with myself. I can’t lose you again. I could say my intentions are purely altruistic, but that would be a lie.” He paused, then looked at her, his expression pained. For looking so hollow-like, there was still so much warmth in those eyes. “It’s hard to separate you from the Nel I remember. All I can do is apologize.”
 
She knew he was from the future, but she wasn’t sure she’d believed it, or considered what it meant until that moment. She stopped. “White...how long did you know me?”
 
He stopped a heartbeat later, turning to face her. “Nel, it isn’t-”
 
“How long?”
 
His shoulders fell in a silent, deep sigh. “It’s hard to say. About nine years.”
 
Her eyes widened in understanding. It explained how she was the only arrancar who could touch him, why out of all the arrancar he treated her differently. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to wake up and find Pesche no longer remembered her. “I’m sorry.”
 
He smiled sadly. “Don’t apologise, you didn’t do anything wrong. I get the chance to know you all over again.”
 
“White…”
 
He stared at her a moment, brows drawn tight, then shook his head. “That’s not my name. My name is Kurosaki Ichigo.”
 
She remembered Grimmjow’s slip. He was going to say Kurosaki. “Who else knows?”
 
“Only Grimmjow. I’d like to keep it that way.” He added, “Please.” She knew why he did that; he didn’t want it to seem like an order.
 
She asked, “Why is your name a secret?”
 
“Paranoia. I was alive, you know. I don’t want my family to become a target. It’s a small chance, but one I can’t help but fear.”
 
Something twisted inside her chest, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “Is that why you didn’t tell me, you didn’t trust me?”
 
“No...I just didn’t think I’d be able to stand hearing you say my name. It hurts enough when my sisters say it.” He started to walk away, hiding his expression.
 
She stared after him for a long moment, then moved to catch up, reaching for his arm. The instant she touched him, he stopped, and she whispered his name. “Ichigo.”
 
He sucked in a shuddering breath, and for a heartbeat she could see all the pain and loneliness he’d struggled to hide. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, and when he opened them, the emotion was buried so deeply she couldn’t see it.
 
He reached out a hand, pressing it against the wall, and it parted beneath his hand, flowing back like water. Every wall beyond it did the same, opening through the outer wall of Las Noches. He walked through the ‘door’ he’d made and she followed, asking, “Where are you going?’
 
He shrugged. “Nowhere in particular, I just prefer it outside, and my usual method is deeply unpleasant for anyone that isn’t me.”
 
“The dark stuff?”
 
He smiled. “Yeah, the dark stuff.”
 
Nel had a feeling he was still deeply unsettled, but was managing to hide it. He was heading straight to the desert, a place he likely felt most comfortable, but was unwilling to leave her behind. She didn’t envy such a double edged sword, for the people you cared about most causing you the most pain.
 
Curiosity got the best of her. “How did you know the other me?”
 
“I met you briefly during the first invasion of Hueco Mundo, when you were still a child, but after a year or so, we met up with you again, and Kisuke found a way to return you to normal. You helped us fight, you told us what you knew about Aizen.”

She frowned slightly, poking his arm. “All you did was list events, what

happened

?”
 
He swiped a clawed hand over his face, then vanished. She blinked, turning in a small circle, then realized all he’d done was complete the distance to the end of his tunnel. She noticed the walls behind her had already sealed up without her noticing. She tried not to focus on how creepy that was, and stepped into sonido to catch up. By the time she got there, he was sitting, staring at the moon.
 
He continued as if there was no gap in their conversation at all. “After my sisters were killed, I was different. Angry, quiet, I withdrew from all my friends. I hated the pity in their eyes, I hated it enough that I wanted to hurt them, and that scared me. So I ate alone, I traveled alone, and I fought alone. You didn’t let me, you followed me relentlessly.”
 
He shook his head, embarrassment clouding his face. “I was such a dick to you. You were so frustratingly insistent, and I’m grateful that you were...I could have lost the time that I had left.”
 
She sat down next to him, with enough space that they weren’t touching, but if one of them leaned too far, they might brush shoulders. They were still relative strangers in this time, but she was fond of him, he wasn’t only kind to her out of a displaced sense of familiarity, but out of a strong sense of justice. That he wasn’t blindly self assured in his own reasoning was what made her like him most. He didn’t kill Szayel, he agonized over fixing the break in her mask. She thought he saw himself as a tyrant, but he was far from it.
 
From the way he spoke of his sisters, she thought that in this time they must still be alive. “Where are your sisters?”
 
He looked at her more intently than she had expected. He asked, “Would you be willing to do me a favor?”
 
Her brows raised, wrapping her arms around her knees. “What kind of favor?”
 
“My family is in the living world, and I can’t contact them right now. You’re the only other arrancar I trust, and Grimmjow is...less than delicate.”
 
“Why can’t you contact them?”
 
“Die Königin. I can’t leave here without her gaining ground.”
 
She didn’t even need to think about it. “I’ll go.”
 
“You haven’t even heard my request.”
 
She tilted her head, wrapping her arms around her knees to pull herself forward. “And I know you wouldn’t ask me to do anything you didn’t already have faith in me to do.” She smiled a little. “So tell me what you need me to do, Ichigo.”
 
He looked taken aback by how easily she had agreed, she wasn’t even sure he’d fully thought out his request. “Shinigami might still be monitoring Karakura closely, you’ll have to hide your reiatsu.” Nine years was a long time, she imagined he already knew exactly what she was capable of. “I was just hoping you could tell them what happened, and why I won’t be able to see them for awhile. I had to break another promise, I’m sure they’re upset with me.”
 
She stood and stretched. “Okay, open a garganta.”
 
“R-right now?”
 
She raised a brow. “They’re missing you, right? Isn’t sooner better?”
 
He stood to face her. “Well, yes, but this is a personal request, you don’t need to do this.”
 
She reached out and flicked him in the forehead. He winced and she admonished. “You’re my friend, and you saved Pesche, and me. I’m not doing this because I feel like I owe you, or I’m afraid, or I want to settle some score. I want to.”
 
She smiled and repeated. “Open a garganta.” Something occurred to her and she paused. “How will I find them?”
 
“Their reiatsu. My father’s will be hard to notice, but Karin I don’t think even realized she had any when I left. It’s kind of like mine, she won’t be able to control it for awhile, but that’s just an assumption.”
 
He raised a hand, parting a garganta before them. “This will land you in the desert outside the city limits. It’s the closest I can safely drop you.” He turned to face her, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips. “Thank you, Nel.”
 
She didn’t think her offer was so remarkable, it seemed to be the next logical step. “It’s your family. You helped mine, I want to help yours.”
 
She stepped up to the garganta, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. “They might not believe you, and they might have doubts. Tell them I didn’t think I’d need a goddamn secret password. And if you could tell them I’m...I’m sorry I couldn’t make the funeral.”
 
Nel got the feeling he hadn’t necessarily wanted to say that through someone else. She brushed off his awkward pause with a smile and stepped into the garganta. She lifted her hand in a wave goodbye. “I’ll be back soon. Ichi~go.”
 
The playful roll of his name made him smile. “Good luck, Nel.”
 
In a blur of sonido, she was gone.

--- xxx ---
 
Thanks for reading guys!
   
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets.” -Paul Tournier
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Karin

~“Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”~

The tv projected Don Kanoji’s voice to the empty house, but Karin was hardly paying attention. Isshin was out, and Yuzu was with an after school club helping out on the play. She was alone, and she’d rather have the tv on than sit in unbearable silence.
 
She was used to Ichigo being there, making fun of her choice of television, or just making small talk.
 
He wasn’t ever going to come back, he hadn’t even visited. What an ass. Even in death, he was an obnoxious loner.
 
His room was untouched, it felt weird taking it apart, it felt weird to even walk by his room. It still smelled like him, all his stupid posters still cluttered the walls, but it felt off, wrong.
 
She nearly jumped out of her skin when the doorbell rang; they weren’t expecting anyone.
 
She swung to her feet, still dressed for soccer practice, and threw open the door. She didn’t even wait to hear them out. “If you’re here to see my dad, he’s out.”
 
The teal-haired woman folded her arms across her chest-well, under her breasts, and tilted her head. “You’re Ichigo’s sister? You don’t look very similar.” She waved her hands frantically. “I don’t mean that like an insult! Ah, I was just expecting-”
 
“Orange hair? Yeah, I figured.” Karin looked her up and down and her lips turned down into a judgemental frown. She was dressed weird, she even had a skull on her head. Cosplay? “You know Ichigo?” She cursed herself for not being able to use past tense. He was dead, yet she refused to acknowledge it.
 
The woman looked like she was fighting to find the words. “Ah yes, see, he sent me here to tell you he’s okay.”
 
Karin’s eyes widened, her hand gripping the doorframe. Her eyes drifted down to the woman’s waist, noting the sword at her hip. Why hadn’t she noticed sooner? “You-you’re friends with Ichi-nii? You don't look like a shinigami.”
 
She shifted her weight. “No...I’m an arrancar.”
 
She knew that word, she'd heard the shinigami tossing it around, and she'd heard her dad say it when he thought she wasn't listening. “Like a hollow then?”
 
The stranger winced, not liking that word, apparently. “Well, more like your brother. Hollow are driven by instinct, arrancar are different.”
 
Karin felt skeptical, she had yet to see a hollow that wasn’t out for blood. She asked. “What are you driven by then?”
 
The woman’s eyes narrowed in thought. “What a difficult question to answer…” She opted not to, changing the subject instead. “My name is Nelliel.”
 
“Karin.” She offered nothing else, and the stranger fidgeted, nervous. She demanded, “Is that all?”
 
“Uhhh no, he wanted me to tell you something else...He's sorry he wasn't at the funeral.”
 
Karin could tell from the divorced tone in her words that she didn't know what they meant. Her grip tightened and she said, “I didn't go either.” Yuzu had been so upset, but she

couldn't

go, she didn't want to cry again, much less in front of a crowd.
 
Karin didn't feel right inviting a stranger into their house, so she finally stepped out on the porch and shut the door behind her. It was suddenly much darker, the warm glow from the house and the porch light casting deep shadows. In the distance a dog barked, but it was relatively quiet.
 
Even standing less than two feet away from something the shinigami called a monster, Karin found it difficult to be afraid of this woman. Shouldn't she be scared? The shinigami said arrancar were dangerous, but this woman felt different.
 
Karin asked, “Does he not want to see us?”
 
“No!” She answered so loudly and so hastily, she seemed a bit embarrassed. “No that's not it. He wanted to come, but he can't.”
 
“Why not?”
 
The arrancar seemed to be considering if she needed to censor her response. “Something is trapping him in Hueco Mundo. If he leaves, it'll be bad for all of us.”
 
Karin narrowed her eyes. “Don't talk down to me like I'm a kid.”
 
Her expression fell. “You

are

a kid.” Karin curled her hands into fists, glaring up at her. “I'm not saying you can't handle it, I don't like being left in the dark either, but I think once you know, it might change things.”
 
“Things are already different!” Karin barely let her finish before she was snapping at her. “No one's stronger than Ichigo, why did he have to go and let himself die?”
 
Nel’s eyes widened in understanding. She sucked in a breath to speak, but stopped cold, stiffening.
 
At first Karin didn't understand why, then she saw the gleam of a sword resting against her neck. Nel didn’t move, she slowly raised her hands, making a point to keep them away from her sword.
 
“What’s an arrancar doing talking to my daughter alone?”
 
Nel let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh my, it seems like power runs in the family. You’re Ichigo’s father?”
 
Karin took a step to the side so she could see past Nel. Even though she knew he was a shinigami, it was still strange seeing him dressed like that. “Dad!”
 
“Answer my question,

arrancar

.”
 
From the steel in his voice, Karin couldn’t be sure if he actually meant to kill her or not. A shiver ghosted over her arms, realizing she didn’t know her father as well as she’d thought. It was a sickening feeling, and not one she wanted to stop to dissect in her soccer uniform on their front porch with an arrancar.
 
Nel looked back over her shoulder. “Ichigo sent me.”
 
Karin saw him press his sword closer, enough to draw blood. He said, “Prove it.”
 
She laughed nervously again. “Ummm, well, I can’t. Funny story, he said if this happened, to tell you he didn’t think he’d need a goddamned secret password.” She added hastily. “That's a direct quote.”
 
Karin held her breath, watching her father for his decision. A moment passed, then he pulled his sword away from her neck with an exasperated sigh. “That certainly sounds like Ichigo.

Honestly

, making a woman swear. I wonder if he ever gets embarrassed by all the problems he causes people?”
 
He sheathed it and stepped around Nel. “Might as well take this inside.”
 
He ruffled Karin’s hair as he passed, drawing a curse from her. He opened the door and gestured for Nel to go first.
 
Now that her life wasn’t in immediate danger, the arrancar’s mood shifted back to being somewhat flustered. She stepped in, cautiously, standing just inside the door. Isshin shut it behind them, taking up a position just in front of Karin.
 
Nel turned a small circle, gawking, and Karin snapped, “It’s just a house, what’re you staring at?”
 
Nel blushed and lifted her shoulder in a self-conscious shrug. “It’s kind of strange, seeing where he grew up. It’s...normal.”
 
Karin took that to be an insult, crossing her arms. “What of it?” With her father standing right there, she was feeling a little bit braver.
 
Isshin put his hand on her shoulder to try to ease her out of her aggression, asking, “How is he? I’m assuming he sent you for a reason.”
 
Nel smiled. “He’s good-better. He smiles more, but he misses you. I know he wanted to come.” She shifted from foot to foot and asked, “How did you know I was here?”
 
Isshin smirked. “My fatherly instincts.”
 
Karin made a face. “What kind of answer is that?”
 
“Don’t worry, arrancar, the shinigami don’t know you’re here,” Isshin said.
 
Nel seemed to relax a bit further. “My name is Nelliel, not arrancar.”
 
Isshin’s tone took on an edge. “Okay then,

Nelliel

, why haven’t I seen you before? And why does my son trust you enough to send you off alone?” Nel straightened, still wary of her father.
 
The arrancar fussed with the hem of her sleeve, looking down and away. “You ask hard questions. I suppose I can start with the fact I’m not like most arrancar, I’m not very violent. For another, Ichigo saved my brother’s life, and he helped me. I’m not fulfilling a debt, I’d like to think we’re friends. That’s why I’m here; I want to help.” She looked up at Isshin, brows furrowed. “He didn’t tell me his father was a shinigami. Are you in trouble because of this, because of Ichigo?”
 
Isshin grit his teeth and hissed. “You’re very frank, aren’t you?”
 
Nel lifted her shoulder in another shrug. “Sometimes.” Her eyes slipped to Karin, and she seemed to come to a conclusion about something.
 
Karin scowled, and Nel looked away like she hadn’t been staring. “As I said, Ichigo wanted to be here, but circumstances prevented it.”
 
“What kind of circumstances?” Isshin asked.
 
Nel said, “The kind that only Ichigo can deal with. If he leaves, he tells me Hueco Mundo will become unstable. I don’t think anything less would have kept him from coming here.”
 
“So you’re the go-between?”
 
Nel dipped her head in a nod. “That's how it appears to be.”
 
Isshin stared at Nel, eyes narrowed, then squeezed Karin’s shoulder. “Go to your room.”
 
Karin slapped his hand away. “No!”
 
“Karin-”
 
“

No

. Ichigo kept secrets, and you’re

still

keeping secrets. I’m so tired of being kept in the dark!”
 
Isshin’s eyes widened, use to being shouted at, but not like this
 
Her hands were shaking, so she balled them up into fists, more than willing to start an actual fight. It would be deeply one sided, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her father never listened, he just ‘did what was best for her’, without even taking her opinions into consideration.
 
Karin didn’t like doing this, but he spent so much of his time protecting and coddling her and her sister, he didn’t notice they were growing up, and now Ichigo wasn’t around to protect them all the time.
 
He lifted his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “Fine..fine, fine fine.” He muttered, “Your mother would be so upset with me...”
 
Karin’s voice was gentler, but still firm. “It has to do with Ichigo. I deserve to know.”
 
He dropped his hand and gave in, asking Nel. “So, what has Ichigo been up to?”
 
Nel fidgeted some more, seemingly unsure if she should answer. “In general, or-”
 
Isshin insisted. “I want to know everything.”
 
Nel took a step back, holding her tongue. Karin looked between them as the silence stretched and began to grow awkward. It didn’t take a genius to see she didn’t trust either of them very much.
 
She hissed under her breath. “Seriously, dad?” She turned to address Nel. “He might look like a shinigami, but he isn't one of them; He isn’t gonna tattle on you, or throw Ichigo under the bus. You can tell us, we’re on Ichigo’s side.”
 
Isshin grimaced, aware his diplomacy was shit, and Karin knew she'd just admitted to spying on him. She figured he could suck it up.
 
Nel eased under the reassurance, no matter how redundant it might seem to give it. “He's started evolving hollows into perfect arrancar.”
 
Isshin asked, “He's making an army?”
 
“Not necessarily. From what I understand, he's trying to lessen conflict within Hueco Mundo.”
 
Karin questioned, “Lessen conflict?”
 
A detachment blanketed her tone as she explained, “Hollows hunt down humans, but there are some that don't, their instinct is to hunt other hollows. They cannibalize each other to evolve. If they don’t keep doing this, they regress and lose whatever individuality they gain.”
 
Karin blanched. She’d always assumed all hollows hunted people, she’d never considered there might be hollows that ate each other. Her question left her lips before she could catch herself. “So that means you…”
 
“Yes.” Nel smiled, and Karin couldn’t help but think of her mother. She didn’t have any real memories left of her, but she’d always imagined that’s what it would look like. There was a depth of patience and understanding in that smile that didn’t make her feel ignorant or naive.
 
Karin swallowed and looked away, uncomfortable.
 
Isshin continued as if nothing had happened. “Regardless of his intentions, to Soul Society it would appear as if he's raising an army.”
 
Nel scoffed, but coming from her it somehow sounded less condescending and more exasperated. “As if he would need an army, you've seen how strong he is, an army would only be in the way. He asks them to join so they don't have to fight, not to press-gang them into an army.”
 
“He tells you this?”
 
“Sometimes, and the rest I hear from others. There's not much else to do in Hueco Mundo besides gossip, and Ichigo is anything but boring.”
 
The Ichigo Karin remembered did well in school, didn't stay out late, he didn't start fights, but the tone in her voice caught her attention. She asked, “What does that mean?”
 
Nel looked to Isshin, then back to Karin, but they both waited expectantly for her to elaborate. “Ichigo...has a temper.”
 
Isshin frowned. “Don’t spare our feelings, tell us how it is.”
 
With permission not to have to censor herself, Nel only grew more anxious. “Ichigo can be rather brutal, even by our standards. A lot of arrancar are terrified of him, but I think he’s making an effort.”
 
Isshin demanded, “How brutal?”
 
She worried her lip. “I don’t think-”
 
“

How brutal?

”
 
Don Kanoji’s voice filled the silence, the quiet laughter wildly out of place. Karin might have turned it off if it hadn’t meant potentially losing out on this moment.
 
Nel’s eyes drifted to the poster of Masaki on the wall. Her shoulders slumped in a defeated sigh. “He’s been seen covered in blood more than once, and he tore an Espada apart.” She looked at Isshin, concerned. “An Espada that killed my brother, and hurt your son. Ichigo tortured him, but…” Nel struggled to defend him, “he’s not blindly sadistic.”
 
Karin couldn’t wrap her mind around that. Ichigo got in fights, sure, but he’d never callously beaten someone when they were down, he would never

torture

someone.
 
Isshin sucked in a breath. “You don’t need to convince me.”
 
Karin whispered, “Ichigo wouldn’t do those things. You’re lying.”
 
Nel looked to her and her face fell. “Nothing I’ve said is a lie.”
 
“You’re lying!”
 
Isshin reached out for her, and this time she didn’t push him away. He turned her to face him, his eyes darkly apologetic. “Karin, your brother is different, but that doesn’t mean he’s not Ichigo.”
 
“Then how could he do that?” Her voice sounded small, even to her.
 
Nel gave them what illusion of privacy she could manage, but standing only a few feet away in the foyer made that difficult.
 
Isshin mussed her hair, and she distantly noted she should shower, she was still gross from soccer practice. Isshin didn’t seem to care. He said, “What do wounded animals do? They lash out. He’s hurting, but we’ll be here for him, won’t we?”
 
Karin bit her lip, her chest tight. He wasn’t there, but he wasn’t gone forever; he’d be back, even if he was dead. Shouldn’t she be lucky she could say that? She refused to cry, nodding stiffly.
 
Isshin smiled and withdrew his hand. “That's my girl.” Karin hated it when he talked like that, but at the same time, it made her heart ache. She talked a lot of shit about her dad, but there was never any argument that he loved her, or Yuzu or Ichigo, even when they fought.
 
Isshin straightened and looked back at Nel, his expression shifting towards something more neutral. “You said he's getting better, did you mean that?”
 
Her mood lightened now that she wasn't the bearer of bad news. “I did. He still sometimes gets carried away in training or sparring, but I think that's just how he is. He loves a good fight.”
 
Most of the tension in Isshin’s shoulders started to unwind. “That does sound like him.” He looked up in thought, then said, “You should go and speak with a friend of mine. He might have some insight, and some sure he'll have questions I wouldn't think of.”
 
Karin’s interest piqued. She questioned, “Kisuke?”
 
“Yeah, Kisuke. If there's anyone more qualified to have an opinion about this, they're not coming to mind.”
 
Nel looked between the pair. “Ichigo never mentioned a Kisuke.” Karin didn't think she was doubting them, but she did seem wary about who he might be.
 
Isshin said, “Ichigo’s never been very fond of sharing anything personal. I wouldn’t take it personally, he won’t even talk to his family.” Her brother had been like that since their mother died, he didn’t want to burden anyone else with his problems. Karin thought she could understand that the most.
 
Isshin turned to her and she knew what he was about to say, it was written all over his face. “Will you stay here and wait for your sister?”
 
Karin frowned. “That's not fair.” There was defeat in her voice, she couldn't argue against that and he knew it.
 
“Maybe not, but I don't want her to come home to an empty house, she would be worried sick, and she'll be getting home soon.”
 
She waved her hand dismissively, but she took the responsibility seriously. “Go, I'll wait up for Yuzu.” She stopped him before he could turn away. “But you're telling

both

of us everything when you come back!”
 
He held his hands up in surrender. “I give, I’ll tell you both everything as soon as I get back.”
 
Karin didn't look impressed, but she let him go.
 
“I promise.”
 
Her eyes slid to Nel, narrowed. “Before you go, tell Ichigo that Tatsuki is...struggling. I don’t want to give you a mouthful of gossip to regurgitate back at him, he can make out what I’m talking about.. I'm sure he has enough problems, but this is one he caused, he should fix it.”
 
Nel smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell him. I’m glad I met you, Karin.”
 
Karin blushed, looking away with a shrug. “You’re not half bad, Nel.” She turned away to head upstairs to shower before she embarrassed herself. Part of her was glad her dad gave her an out, and part of her was irritated.
 
She turned her back, and Nel and her dad left, the door clicking shut behind them. They were gone, and the house was suddenly quiet, still except for the murmurs from the tv; even the presence she was used to feeling when a shinigami or a hollow was around had disappeared.
 
She went to shower, shutting herself in the bathroom with a sharp sigh. She was alone, there was no one to hide from, to be brave for, yet she’d held the facade for so long, she didn’t know how to drop it anymore.
 
She pulled off her shirt, dropping it on the ground. She noticed how her hands shook. It was too much.
 
Her brother was a shinigami, a visored, dead. Now he was also gone, absent, displaced; He wasn’t

there

. He’d always been there. Even when he’d disappear for days, she knew he would always come back. Now things were different.
 
She let her back hit the door, her arms wrapped around her middle. Yuzu was so strong, she was good in school, she cooked, she took care of the house. Ichigo looked after them, he protected them like he always had.
 
What did

she

do? She played soccer, she stayed out of the way.
 
She sighed, pushing away from the door, and dropped into a routine, her thoughts slowing her down. She started the water and shirked her clothes, stepping under the spray. Everything felt different, like the world was tinted, and no one could see it but her. She hadn’t felt like this since they lost mom. Even the shampoo was different.
 
Yuzu always did the shopping, so she bought girlie shit, things that appealed to her. For years they all smelled like coconuts or flowers, but now the shampoo smelled faintly of lavender, and the bottle was white, not decorated in flowers and colors. Was this what growing up was supposed to be? Was everything suppose to muddy together and become duller, less loud, less vibrant?
 
The heat of the water struck like needles, her skin turning red. She cried, tears mingling with streams of water and leaving no trace. Shame burned in the back of her throat. What right did she have to cry? What good was self-pity?
 
She could cry and mourn Ichigo, she could feel sorry for herself, or she could do something about it.
 
Scrubbing her hands over her face, she beat down her sadness and tightened her grip around the things that mattered. There was no sense lingering in the past, she wouldn’t let it drag her down. There might be monsters out there, but Yuzu was still there, her father,

her

future.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Karakura

As far as stealth went, things could have gone worse. She thought things had turned out rather well, and she had to wonder if Ichigo had planned on this, or if it was luck. He had to have known his family would grill her for information, and she could understand now why Grimmjow wasn’t an option. The Espada could be somewhat understanding if he wanted to be, but patient? Never.
 
Ichigo had been right when he’d said finding his family would be easy. His sister, Karin, was practically a beacon, but that also meant the shinigami around their home were considerable. Karin would inevitably draw hollows, but it seemed Soul Society had anticipated it, and despite her hangups over shinigami, at least they appeared to be protecting her.
 
She wasn’t sure when she’d decided it, but she needed his family to be safe. She wanted to protect the things Ichigo cared about. His heart was still mending, and she couldn't help but fear the wrong amount of pressure might shatter him.
 
She trailed Isshin through the suburbs in sonido, keeping pace with him, though she thought if he wanted, he could go faster. It wasn’t hard to see where Ichigo got all of his potential, his father could easily outclass an arrancar, even an Espada. For Ichigo to have become so strong, and for his sister to have so much reiatsu, it stood to reason that his mother had been powerful as well.
 
She wasn’t blind, she’d seen the near shrine-like poster of Ichigo’s mother, it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. Somewhere along the line, his mother had died. She wondered at that, but didn’t allow her thoughts to dig too deeply.
 
Isshin stopped outside of a small shop, the lights on inside despite the hour. She found it somewhat curious that she couldn’t sense anything within the shop, not even basic reiatsu; it was a dead area.
 
She hung back while Isshin stepped forward and knocked. It was only a few seconds before the door slid open; he must have known they were coming.
 
“I knew you would stop by, and you brought a friend.”
 
Isshin jerked a thumb in her direction. “This is Nelliel.”
 
She lifted her hand in a little wave as the blonde beckoned them inside. “Ahh, nice to meet you Nelliel-san.”
 
After a moment’s hesitation, she followed Isshin into the shop, a bit uncomfortable in the cramped space. She trusted Ichigo wouldn’t send her to her death, so she tried to relax. Urahara took a good at her mask, then asked. “Are you an arrancar?”
 
She tilted her head, she would have thought it was obvious. It wasn’t like her mask fragments were subtle. “Yes.”
 
Urahara stared at her a long moment. It looked to her like he thought her words didn’t match reality.
 
Isshin noticed the scrutiny. “What?”
 
“You’re suppressing your reiatsu, so it’s difficult to be certain, but what I’m sensing isn’t an arrancar. Not exactly.”
 
Isshin looked between them, brows furrowed in annoyance. “I don’t sense anything.”
 
“You’re not looking for it.”
 
Nel shifted under the sudden scrutiny, considering leaving. He was lit from behind, and with his hat casting deep shadows across his face, the look in his eyes unsettled her. “I don’t know what to tell you, I’m an arrancar.”
 
Kisuke questioned, “Aizen made you?”
 
“...Yes.”
 
“With the Hogyoku.”
 
It wasn’t a question, so she said nothing. She couldn’t help but think of Ichigo, and what he’d done to fix her. What exactly had he done? She hadn’t thought about it.
 
“There’s more.”
 
She narrowed her eyes at his tone, almost annoyed by how easily he read her. From the way he stood he was anticipating her to be a threat, despite how careful he was to appear relaxed. He looked normal, but he carried himself like a fighter, like a person to be wary of.
 
Kisuke stopped guarding his expression so closely, the cold scrutiny in his eyes melting into something she couldn’t identify. He flipped his cane around to rest on his shoulder, tapping it thoughtfully. “Were you injured and healed? Whatever is mixed up in your reiatsu isn’t yours.”
 
Isshin spoke up from her right. “You can trust Kisuke.”
 
She reminded herself where her loyalties lay; she trusted Ichigo, and she trusted his judgment. “My mask was cracked for a number of years, it made me weak. Ichigo fixed me.”
 
Both men stared at her with wide eyes. Isshin's brows furrowed. “You can't fix a hollow mask, that's not possible.” He turned to face her further, confrontational in his confusion. “And Ichigo doesn't know healing Kidou, not as far as I know. Not that you would be able to fix a hollow mask with it.”
 
Kisuke interjected. “Did it have something to do with his connection to the Hogyoku?”
 
“The Hogyoku?” Nel wasn't aware of Ichigo's connection to the Hogyoku, or if there was even one at all. “He used that darkness, the stuff he calls el sangre.”
 
Kisuke nodded like this made sense, but both she and Isshin were confused. He explained, “When you heal someone, traces of your reiatsu are always left behind. We can't feel Ichigo's reiatsu, and the pure form of the Hogyoku has a very different, but distinct residue it leaves behind.”
 
Nel was starting to feel left behind. isshin seemed to understand, but she felt that there were gaps in her knowledge. She asked, “What is the Hogyoku?”
 
Kisuke’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I'm no longer qualified to answer that. Ichigo would know better than I would. That it did something everyone believed was impossible is curious.”
 
She glanced to Isshin, and he looked as if he was hearing this for the first time as well. She asked, “How do you know all of this?”
 
“Because I was one of the first to discover it.” A flicker of regret crossed his face, but he didn’t let it settle. He waved a hand in dismissal, a smile lighting up his face. “There’s no reason to stand and talk in the entryway, come in and sit.”
 
He turned to go back inside, and the very fact he turned his back to her helped ease her concerns. She followed after Isshin, joining them in a sitting room. Somewhere between the entryway and sitting down, a black cat had perched on his shoulders. She couldn’t recall seeing it before then, but she hadn’t been looking.
 
She sat on her knees on Isshin’s right, not sure what else to do with herself. The two were clearly comfortable with each other, but she knew no one, and it felt strange to be sitting in his house.
 
Kisuke sat with his cane across his lap, all of his attention on her. “So how is Kurosaki-san?”
 
She summarized everything she’d already told Isshin, leaving out the bit about his temper; it felt too personal. When she was done, Isshin spoke up, an edge of betrayal in his tone. “She tells me he’s violent. Why didn’t you tell me?”
 
Kisuke didn’t shy away from the accusation, meeting Isshin evenly. “Because I didn’t think Kurosaki-san wanted me to. I didn’t want to risk breaking his trust when it was already thin. Besides, how am I supposed to tell a father his son is broken?”
 
Isshin snarled, “He’s not

broken

.”
 
He inclined his head, conceding to his point, although if Isshin’s threats worried him in the slightest, he gave no indication of it. “I’ll give you that, but he

was

, and being stuck in a war he had no business being pulled into was no place for him to mend. From what I’ve heard, I’m surprised he’s not worse off.”
 
Nel didn’t feel right listening in on their conversation. They were talking about the same person she knew and cared about, but over aspects of him she hadn’t personally seen, and with an intimacy she didn’t share.
 
Isshin’s frown deepened. “How did he get involved in the first place?”
 
“If I understand it correctly, he was the only one who hadn’t been exposed to Aizen’s shikai, and he had more than enough power to challenge him. Beyond that, you’ll have to ask your son.”
 
The silence carried on, and Nel thought to change the subject before Isshin got into an actual argument. “Since Ichigo is trapped in Hueco Mundo, was there anything you wanted me to tell him? Was there anything you wanted to ask me before I return?”
 
“Yes. In the brief time Kurosaki-san was here, I saw him use that dark energy. You say he healed you. How else has he used it?”
 
“Ahhh, he called it el sangre. He fixed my mask, my brother’s mask, and he uses it to shape Las Noches. He can move the sand with it too, he formed it into these strange buildings.” She traced her fingers in a stair-stepping triangle to try to illustrate. “He can move through space with it too, be one place, and then another. He can take others, but I’ve heard it’s awful, like having all your insides rearranged and put back together.”
 
Kisuke questioned, “Shape Las Noches? What do you mean by that?”
 
She explained, “Aizen created Las Noches with the Hogyoku. It was all sheer walls and towering ceilings. The buildings were bland, flat, unremarkable, even if they were impressive. Ichigo can move the walls, destroy and rebuild them with hardly any effort at all. When he does, it changes a bit, and I don’t think he notices he does it. The walls have designs, patterns, writing.”
 
Kisuke’s interest piqued. “Does it? Do you remember enough that you could draw it?”
 
Nel’s brows furrowed. “Maybe?”
 
Kisuke got up, and returned with a journal and a pen. He set it down in front of her and took back up his seat. “If you could try to recreate what you saw, I would greatly appreciate it.”
 
She tapped the pen thoughtfully, then started to draw. She chewed her lip, uncertain, and scratched out symbols and half remembered pictograms she’d seen on the walls of Las Noches. She closed her eyes, tracing a memory, and dropped the pen, pushing the notepad back.
 
Kisuke pulled it towards him, eying the symbols. His eyes widened, murmuring, “How interesting.”
 
Isshin said, “You recognize it?”
 
“Yes. You should too.” Kisuke held up the notepad.
 
There were stylized drawings that looked like hollows, along with strange writing. It might have passed for sloppy hiragana, but dots and slashes lined sharp swoops. “Should I?”
 
Nel looked between them. “What is it?”
 
Kisuke sighed, shooting a look of disapproval in Isshin’s direction. “Honestly. If you weren’t so good at combat, you never would have been allowed out of the academy.” He dropped the notepad on the table. “It’s mix of Q'eqchi' and R'lyehian.”
 
“Is that suppose to mean something?” Isshin looked to Kisuke expectantly.
 
“It’s a Mayan dialect-you’ve heard of the Mayans. Shinigami are a relatively new phenomenon, and one that exists as a mere byproduct of chance and bloodshed. The Mayans were some of the first to discover hollows, or at least among the first to interact with them, but they weren’t exclusively hunting them. The rest of this looks like a language a few humans over the years have recreated and passed on. You might have heard of the American author Lovecraft?”
 
Isshin snorted. “You can’t be serious?”
 
“Some humans have enough reiatsu to see things, hear things,

know

things they shouldn’t. This looks like R'lyehian, and at this point, we can only assume it’s related.”
 
Nel sat there feeling left out. “What’s Rrr..hian?”
 
Kisuke’s ips turned up into a brief grin at her attempt. “A forgotten language. If you’ve seen it written in Las Noches, then it’s not a myth, or a fantasy, and it’s not lost. I don’t see Kurosaki as the type to have an interest in this sort of thing offhand, so I can’t feel confident saying it’s merely a byproduct of his subconscious.”
 
Isshin questioned, “He could have seen it somewhere before though, couldn’t he?”
 
Kisuke said, “I can’t rule it out.”
 
Nel asked, “Does this have some sort of importance?”

“Maybe not, but this will potentially help explain what’s going on. Not even Seireitei has bothered to research Hueco Mundo. Soul Society has spent a good deal of time and resources killing hollows, but not so much has been devoted to research. Maybe on the differences between shinigami and hollows, but nothing beyond that. As I said, shinigami didn’t always do this, they’ve been meddling.”
 
Nel was surprised to hear that. She’d spent so much of her ‘life’ thinking of shinigami as the enemy, to hear they hardly even considered her enough of a threat to even research was...strange.
 
Isshin’s eyes narrowed and he said, “You make it seem like shinigami aren’t objectively good.”
 
Kisuke pushed the brim of his hat up. “What makes something ‘good’ is relative, isn’t it?” His eyes flicked over to Nel. “What do

you

think of shinigami?”
 
“Me?” She shifted, looking between them. She didn’t think this hat person was human, nor did his question feel anything short of genuine. “They want me dead, why wouldn’t I fear them? Most hollows hate shinigami. I can’t speak on the behalf of all arrancar, but most despise you. Is it so strange to resent those that want you dead?”
 
Kisuke gave Isshin a pointed look, and Ichigo’s father tightened his hands into fists. “You go after humans, are we supposed to ignore you?”
 
She gave him a sidelong look. “Not all of us. Regardless, it’s hard not to think of you as enemies.”
 
Isshin frowned. “Tsk, the feeling is mutual.”
 
Nel didn’t have anything to say to that, but it made her feel a little better to know that he was wary around her as well.
 
The hat man smiled at her and she fidgeted in her seat. He said, “It’s a touchy situation, I’m not pretending I have the answers, but you follow Ichigo, and Ichigo is only trying to keep the peace. I’d say that makes you an ally.”
 
Kisuke asked, “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

--- xxx ---
 
Uryuu Ishida
 
“What is it?”
 
Ishida turned from the window to look back at Orihime. She was sitting at the coffee table, leaning over her homework. “You didn’t sense that?” he asked. She tilted her head in question. “Kurosaki’s father just released a high level of reiatsu, then quickly stifled it.”
 
She ventured, “You don’t think…”
 
“I don’t know.”
 
She asked, “Are you going to go check?”
 
“Kurosaki missed our last meeting; it’s concerning.” Kurosaki was many things, but tardy or absent wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t say he was

worried;

Isshin was powerful, but he didn’t like being kept out of the loop.
 
Orihime shifted to get up, setting down her pencil. “Should I go with you?”
 
Ishida pushed up his glasses, reaching for his bag, then thought better of it. This shouldn’t take long. “No. I’ll just go check up on them, I’ll be back soon. You should study.” He knew what her scholarships meant to her, and she hated taking handouts. He turned back, reached out and resting his hand on her head. “I won’t be gone long, keep studying. I’m sure it’s nothing. If there was a fight, we’d both feel it.”
 
She doodled a bear on her paper, pouting as he withdrew his hand. “Okay, but be careful.”
 
He smiled. “I’m always cautious, but I’ll think of you before I do something stupid.”
 
“Ishida!”
 
He reached for the door, opening it with a small grin. “Don’t stress, I’ll text you in a bit, okay?”
 
She frowned at him, then relented. “Okay.”
 
“Yeah.” He turned away, opening the door and stepping out. “Lock the door after me.”
 
She gave him a pitying look. “It’s not my first night alone, Ishida.”
 
He sighed. “I can’t help it.”
 
The look on her face made him smile, and he reluctantly shut the door. He hesitated in the hall, then left once he heard the deadbolt grind into place.
 
He slipped into Hirenkyaku, taking to the rooftops to cross the town in a straight line. He caught Isshin as he and a woman left his home. He followed them from a distance, concealing his reiatsu, and neither seemed to notice. Even from a distance, he started to draw comparisons between this woman and Grimmjow. An arrancar then?
 
He wasn’t shocked to see they stopped outside of Kisuke’s shop, but he kept his distance. He pulled out his phone to text Orihime how he was doing, then he hovered outside for what felt like the better part of an hour.
 
He nearly jumped out of his skin when a deep voice spoke up. “What are you doing here, Ishida-kun?”
 
He spun, letting out a heavy breath when he saw the smug black cat behind him. He hissed, “Yoruichi! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
 
She flicked her tail and sat, a smug look on her feline face. “Can you really be outraged when you’re the one spying? What are you doing here?”
 
Ishida adjusted his glasses then fell back into a crouch so they were closer to eye level. “I take it that’s one of Kurosaki’s arrancar.“
 
“Concerned?”
 
He tried not to get annoyed, deflecting. “Isshin’s reiatsu spiked, I was curious. Is that a problem?”
 
“No.” Her whiskers twitched up into a smile. “Did you want to come in?”
 
Ishida frowned. “I didn’t really want to get involved…”
 
“It’s too late for that, isn’t it?” Her eyes narrowed knowingly. So she knew he’d been training with Kurosaki. Why did she have to be so insufferably

right

?
 
He asked, “Why was she here?”
 
“Ichigo is trapped in Hueco Mundo, he sent Nelliel to keep us informed. It’s difficult to wring information out of Ichigo, if he hadn’t sent an envoy, we might still have next to no idea what he was up to.”
 
Ishida couldn’t argue with that, Ichigo hardly ever shared anything unless he felt morally obligated to do so. “If he can't return, why didn’t he just call?”
 
“There’s too much interference, messages aren’t going through. Kisuke’s working on it, but he seems doubtful he’ll make any headway.”
 
Ishida thought back to what Kurosaki was saying about the Quincies. He didn’t know if this had anything to with it, but he decided he didn’t want to be kept out of the loop. His father wouldn’t give a damn unless he was personally dragged into it, so he wouldn’t get any information out of him.
 
She interrupted his thoughts. “Did you have something to pass on before she leaves?”
 
He straightened, pushing up his glasses. “I’d rather not play telephone with an arrancar.”
 
She flicked her tail in what might have passed for a shrug. “Suit yourself. You’ll pass this on to Chad? Ichigo was keeping regular contact with him as well.”
 
Ishida didn’t like being the designated carrier pigeon, but he wouldn’t leave Chad in the dark over it either. He hadn’t known Ichigo was meeting up with Chad, the two of them hardly spoke, and it made him wonder what other secrets Ichigo might be keeping. “Fine. Let me know if anything changes.”
 
He left before curiosity got the better of him, walking the distance back to Orihime’s apartment. He thought about texting Chad, then calling him, then stopping by. All of these felt wrong, but Chad was Ichigo’s friend more than he was. If anyone would want to know, it would be Ichigo’s family, followed swiftly by Chad.
 
He texted Orihime so she would know where he was going, then took the detour to Chad’s apartment. He didn’t know where he lived, per se’, he was simply adept at tracking people. Lately, his reiatsu had been different, slightly darker, and he wondered if Ichigo had anything to do with that.
 
He ended up standing outside, hand poised to knock when Chad opened the door.
 
“Ishida?”
 
He was surprised, then realized Chad was more adept at sensing reiatsu than he’d first thought. That or he’d improved, but he was guessing it was a bit of both.
 
“Chad.” He let his hand fall, shoving them in his pockets. It was chilly out, but not altogether uncomfortable, so he was unsurprised when Chad invited him in.
 
His brows furrowed. “No, that’s okay, Orihime’s waiting for me, I was just stopping by.”
 
“Is it about Ichigo?”
 
Ishida’s brows rose in surprise, though at this point he thought he shouldn’t be; Chad was far more observant that he expected him to be. “Yes. I just saw Yoruichi-san, she says Ichigo’s been coming back to see you?” Chad didn’t deny that, so he continued, “Kurosaki sent an arrancar to let his family know he can’t leave Hueco Mundo, I thought I’d let you know.”
 
Chad asked, “Is he okay?”
 
“It sounded like he was...you’ve been training with Kurosaki?”
 
Chad made an affirmative sound. “He didn’t tell you?”
 
Ishida scoffed. “Like he’d tell me anything.” He scuffed his shoe on the ground, looking out at the street. ”I have a feeling he keeps secrets from all of us.”
 
For a moment Chad said nothing, then he asked, “Resentful?”
 
“I don’t know.”
 
Chad stepped outside, closing the door behind him. “I don’t think he means to.” He stepped up to the railing, leaning forward. “Have you fought with him?”
 
“Yes.” He turned, leaning back against the railing beside him. There was a good distance between them, regardless of the fact they’d invaded Soul Society together, Chad still felt like a stranger. Were it not for Kurosaki, they wouldn't speak at all. “He’s dangerous.”
 
“Maybe, but you had to notice.” Ishida looked at him, brows drawn in question. “You had to have noticed how careful he is.”

Ishida wanted to hold that as the truth. He

hated

that he was afraid.
 
All he’d done was touch him, it was so similar to when they’d faced the menos, except this time they’d both been viscerally aware of it. The power was more than overwhelming, it was painful. It raced through his veins and lit up his nerves like fire, and then it was gone, cut off as sharply as if it had never been there at all. The only evidence was the sudden chill in the absence of power.
 
Whatever had happened, Kurosaki had reacted badly. He didn’t know if it was the pain, or the transfer of power itself, but something snapped.
 
He could still feel Kurosaki's fingers digging into his throat, power so vast it felt like he was being crushed under an ocean.
 
Chad was watching him closely, and he realized he hadn’t answered. His mouth was dry, he wanted to leave.
 
“He hurt you.”
 
Ishida stiffened. It wasn’t an accusation or a guess, Chad was simply stating the truth. He swallowed. “He didn’t intend to.” It was less of a defense on Kurosaki’s behalf, and more defense for his own pride.
 
He’d never felt so small, so defenseless.
 
His fingers had tightened around his neck, and there were no black sclera or burning yellow eyes, there was just Kurosaki’s brown. There had been no malice, only wild fear and blind rage.
 
Chad just kept staring at him. He didn’t seem expectant, or judgemental; Chad wasn’t like that. Ishida licked his lips, shifting his weight. “It was only a few seconds, but afterwards, he couldn’t even look me in the eye. He was more shaken than I was, I think.”
 
Still, he said nothing, he only waited. Ishida hadn’t told anyone, especially not Orihime. Even he and Kurosaki had barely spoken of it. “It was just an accident, but I think he knew how easily he could have killed me.”
 
He’d faced Mayuri and his hands were steady, but five agonizing seconds under the weight of Ichigo’s reiatsu, and he’d trembled for hours. He’d been grateful for the cold weather to hide the bruises on his neck, he hadn’t wanted anyone to ask questions.

“It’s always you.”

He didn’t understand what Kurosaki had meant by it. There had been no malice or blame in those words.
 
The visored had materialized his Zanpakuto, and his double had kept carefully between them while they both calmed down. They had talked about the mechanics of what had happened, but not the meat of it. He still had no idea what had caused Kurosaki to react like that.
 
Ishida said, “Turns out whatever power he has now, even if I can’t sense it, if I touch him while his guard is down, I can absorb it like any other reishi. I’m not even sure what I took was reiatsu at all, but it startled both of us.”
 
He stepped away from the railing, but Chad’s voice stopped him short. “Ishida. If it comes down to a fight, whose side would you choose?”
 
Without turning back to face him, he tightened his jaw. “I’m a Quincy, you know that.”
 
“Why train with him?”
 
Why indeed? “Kurosaki might be a mutt, but he’s still a Quincy, even if only in part.” He started away, ending the conversation before he was forced to ask himself questions he didn’t want to answer. “Goodnight, Chad.”
 
He had the willpower not to reach up for his throat until he had turned the corner. Whose side was he on?
 
He was a Quincy, but already he’d thrown in with Kurosaki to save a shinigami.

A shinigami.

No...Rukia. She could be aggravating, but her absence was notable. Even Kurosaki’s petulant silence and sour attitude were conspicuously absent.  
 
Why did he go after Isshin? It wasn’t any of his business.
 
He found himself on Orihime’s doorstep sooner than he anticipated. She didn’t wait for him to knock, she threw the door open, watching him with wide eyes. “Ishida?”
 
He smiled weakly. “Everything is fine, no one’s hurt.”
 
Concern blossomed across her face. “Ishida, what’s wrong?”
 
“Chad asked me whose side I’m on. I don’t know.”
 
Her brows drew together, and he knew she didn’t have an answer for him. It wasn’t fair to expect one.
 
What mattered to him the most? His pride? His friends? His future?
 
He was with Kurosaki for now, but how long would that last? He had too many questions for himself, and no answers.
 
“Come on, I’ll help you study.”
 
“Ishida, you don’t have to-”
 
“I want the distraction,” he urged gently.
 
He’d taught him how to gather reishi, he’d done his part. This Kurosaki was similar, but different, did he owe him anything else?
 
As Ishida had laid there on his side, coughing and gasping, Kurosaki had backed himself into a corner. The look in Kurosaki’s eyes had been haunting him for days. Ishida knew that look, he’d lived with it for years.

Loneliness

.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Thanks for reading guys!

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“And then there are nights when wolves are silent and the moon is howling.”

feliz día de los Muertos

--- xxx ---

Kurosaki Ichigo

Hueco Mundo

Legs dangling off of the balcony, Nel kicked her feet and looked down at the drop. Had they not been in conversation, Ichigo thought she might have jumped just for the fun of it. She told him what happened, and he found it impressive just how much she remembered. She even went into detail about the strength and density of Karin’s reiatsu, as well as her thoughts on his father, and she didn’t pull any punches.
 
He had expected his father might still have a volatile response to just about anything related to him, but to hear how hard Karin was taking this wedged a dagger of guilt in his chest.

“Ain’t a thing you can do about it king.”

He said, “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t intend to send you walking straight into an interrogation?”
 
Nel threw her head back and laughed. “It’s alright, really, I was expecting it when I agreed to go.”
 
She asked, “Who is Kisuke to you?” He looked at her in question, so she elaborated. “He spoke like he knows you well.”
 
“Ah...that might be because he does. He taught me. I’ve had a lot of teachers, but he was one of the first.”
 
“That explains it.” She continued when he gave her a curious look. “He made me nervous. I couldn’t sense his reiatsu, but he seemed dangerous.”
 
Ichigo thought about that. “He is.” He wouldn’t want to be on his bad side, no matter how much raw power he might be holding over his head. Kisuke was smart, even Aizen had acknowledged that. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s on my side, but he’s certainly not against us.”
 
Her brows drew together in concern. “Is he a threat?”
 
“Not at the moment.” He didn’t think it was wise to tell her he didn’t think he’d be able to stop Kisuke if he was ever their enemy, but he couldn't reasonably rule him out either. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he could imagine the worst from anyone.
 
“What about Tatsuki? What are you going to do about her?”
 
Writing letters felt impersonal, he didn’t want to do it, but going straight to Tatsuki wasn’t feasible. He asked, “If she was willing to see me, would you be willing to escort her here?”
 
“Of course I would. Do you think she would trust me enough to entertain the idea?”
 
“I have no idea,” he admitted, “but even Karin noticed something is wrong, I can’t just sit on my hands waiting for die Königin to back off.”
 
“I suppose that’s true. What about Kisuke, he wanted to see more of that writing.”
 
Ichigo looked back at the room behind them, scanning the patterns and words that had slowly surfaced over time. “Before you go back I guess I’ll do a rubbing of one, that’ll have to be enough. I can’t draw for shit.”
 
“A rubbing?”
 
Ichigo held his hand out flat and pantomimed scrubbing it with his other. “You know, putting a piece of paper on it and then scribbling with charcoal or something to make an impression.”
 
She smiled and teased, “How technological of you.”
 
“Paper doesn’t break.”
 
She chuckled. “Well, as frustrating as that is, I did get to meet your family because of it.”
 
“I’m glad something came of it.”
 
She stared at him a moment, thoughtful, then said, “A lot of people care about you.”
 
He caught the implication without her having to spell it out. He wouldn’t disappoint them. “I know.”
 
He let the conversation fall off for a time, but Nel wasn’t one to sit in silence for long. She asked, “This is Aizen’s room, isn’t it?”
 
He knew where this was going, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to answer. “It is.”
 
“You spend a lot of time here. Why? I thought you hated Aizen?”
 
He snorted softly. “Hate doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
 
She asked, “So why come here?”
 
He forced down the urge to shrug. He knew why, but saying it aloud would make it real. “A few reasons, I guess...The simplest being, he was a sonofabitch, but he had good taste, I like this balcony.” He could make one, but he really didn’t like making things for himself. Besides, it was just an excuse. “His reiatsu is still here. It’s like claws on my neck, but I want the reminder.”
 
“Reminder of what, Ichigo?”
 
He didn’t want to forget. Everyone that would know anything was dead, or simply didn’t exist. “That the past decade actually happened. It’s hardly proof, but

everything

else is different, at least this is the same. I didn’t imagine this, Aizen was real.”
 
Nel wrapped a hand around a horn, tugging him off balance. He staggered as she forced him to look at her, catching himself on the railing. She was only inches away. “Why do you do this to yourself?” It sounded rhetorical, her voice breathy, chiding. “I swear, you’re worse than me.”
 
Her fingers uncurled from his horn, but he stayed where she’d dragged him, watching her closely. She smiled sadly. “You’re not crazy, Ichigo, you’re not.”
 
She leaned back a fraction, patting the railing next to her. “If you don’t want to forget, if you need to get out of your head, then tell it to me, tell it to Grimmjow, write to your sister, your father, but you don’t need to punish yourself to remember or make it real.”
 
Even as a hollow, with a fist sized hole in his chest, he could still feel the sting of truth in her words. Why did she have to make so much sense?
 
He joined her on the railing, and she slipped off the edge, raising her arms in a freefall. He was only seconds behind her, her laughter stolen away by the wind as quickly as the heaviness in his heart. Watching turquoise hair whip around her face, he realized just how much he’d missed her. He couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face.
 
She landed in an agile crouch, and he joined her not even a breadth later, sand billowing away from their feet. She bit back her laughter and caught her breath. “That’s better. Las Noches is a damn slight better than what it was, but I like the desert.”
 
His smile widened a bit in empathy. “I can understand that.”
 
She took his hand in hers, tugging him after her along the dunes. “Talk to me, Ichigo.”
 
“About what?”
 
“Whatever you want.”
 
With criteria like that, he didn’t even know where to start. He stared down at her hand clasped around his own. Aizen wouldn't leave his mind, no matter how hard he tried, so he talked about Aizen. “You know, in all the years I fought him, Aizen had more than enough chances to kill me, and he never did. He liked to play games; once he got his power, his goals started to change, he got bored.”
 
His hand tightened around hers, and she looked back. He could feel her eyes on his, but he couldn’t meet them. “The things he would say to me, it’s like he wanted me to be like him.”
 
She defended. “You’re not an arrogant, sadistic, warlord with a God complex.”
 
Ichigo let out a humorless laugh. “That’s true, he was all of those things and more. I fought him enough, I should know his heart best. I’ve wondered if that wasn’t his intention. He was a lonely nihilist, and near the end I felt madness and...desire? That word doesn’t seem to fit...Obsession, need? He wanted to crush me, kill me, have me, ruin me, and I understand why, because I felt the same thing for him.”
 
He pulled his hand away and she faced him, yet he still couldn’t meet her eyes. “I never told anyone his last words. I didn’t want to remember them...‘Now you understand, don’t you, ryoka boy?’”
 
The memory of Aizen’s voice, that condescending look in his eyes as he breathed his last. Anger flared in his chest sharp and hot, intense enough that the sand flowed away from the spike in his power.
 
If Nel was afraid of him, she hid it well. She stepped closer, not away, and carefully lifted her hand to his face. “Hey, easy. You’re afraid you’re like him, but you’re not.”
 
Ichigo didn’t understand what she meant, but her hand was warm, and he didn’t mind her touch. She dragged her fingers across his cheek, and down to his chest, tracing a scar. “You understand what it means to suffer on someone else’s behalf, you know what it means to kill for vengeance. Aizen could never feel for another, his feelings were dull, the blood he drew was for

nothing

. You kill for others, to protect your heart. I can’t tell you if one of these things is more or less just than the other, but you have more substance that Aizen ever knew. It’s no wonder he obsessed over you. You’re better than him.”
 
She drew her hands back and smiled. “If you must compare yourself, compare yourself to his shortcomings and failures.” He stared at her in confusion, so she clarified. “I don’t need to know the past you shared with him to know that you didn’t let him ruin you. You love your family, you give a damn about Hueco Mundo, about Soul Society, and the living world. He lost.”
 
Ichigo bit back a sigh. “I think you give me too much credit.”
 
“You don’t give yourself enough.” She reached out and threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging a lock. “Now let’s see if you’re as fast as Grimmjow complains.”
 
She blurred into sonido and he had to smile. Typical. She didn’t change the subject so much as refuse to let him linger in it. Fine. He could go for a round of tag.
 
He stepped after her not a moment later, hair whipping around him, and casually kept pace. She smiled and quickly changed direction. He let her gain ground, then blurred back into step beside her. She laughed. “Fast! I can’t imagine what you’re like in bankai.”
 
For every step she made, he made one of his own, and every time she swiped at him, he was no longer there. Their game went on for some time before Grimmjow found them. A cero split the night in a swath of blue, and the pair split to dodge it. Ichigo turned in time to see the Espada drawing Pantera. How the Espada managed to find him when no one else could was a secret he wouldn’t share, and Ichigo didn’t think it had anything to do with his nose.
 
Grimmjow shouted, “Hey, bitch! How about you release your sword and we’ll see if we can’t draw some blood?”
 
Ichigo didn’t see a problem with that. He looked to Nelliel. “If you can stand to fight with him, he could probably use the team building skills.” He heard Grimmjow shout his release phrase, his reiatsu flooding across the sand in crackling blue.
 
She quirked a grin. “Sounds like fun.” She drew her sword and muttered, “

Declare

, Gamuza.”
 
Ichigo would have stuck around to watch, but Grimmjow had skipped directly into his Segunda Etapa, and it was no fun if he didn’t dodge. Ichigo jumped up, Grimmjow’s swipe splitting the dunes into canyons, sand mixing with bright reiatsu.
 
Grimmjow had learned by then not to count on his attacks landing, before he’d even finished his follow through, he’d launched up into the sky to attack again. Ichigo was proud of him for following his moves, he’d barely been holding back his speed.
 
Ichigo ducked a spinning kick, then reappeared behind the Espada, tapping the back of his head. “Dead.”
 
Grimmjow whirled, but Ichigo was suddenly a hundred yards below him, skipping back on the sand to face Nelliel instead. She hefted her lance, a hoof pawing the sand, and stepped into sonido. She was much faster, not that he would have guessed so with her current form if he hadn’t seen it before. She slid to a stop in the sand, hooves holding more traction than he would expect, she was using reishi to direct her energy. When her lance parted his hair, but missed him entirely, she spun her lance overhead, the spirals of green reiatsu deadly enough to mince any arrancar standing too close.
 
Ichigo smirked, dodging as if the blast might harm him. He twisted out of the way of a whipping tendril of power and escaped skyward, avoiding her attack as it spiraled outward in a hurricane. He was pleased to find Grimmjow waiting to take advantage.
 
The Espada slashed out with a simple version of Desgarrón, blue claws of reishi cutting off his aerial escape. Not bad for improvisation, but then he’d never doubted Grimmjow’s skill, only his manners.
 
He ducked and weaved through the attack, and Nelliel didn’t give him any breathing room. She shouted, “Grimmjow, get down!” She threw her lance straight up, and if he hadn’t seen this attack in person, he might have wondered why she’d thrown her only weapon away.
 
Grimmjow appeared in a crouch on the dunes behind Nelliel. He was surprised the arrancar actually listened to her. Ichigo held out a hand to intercept her attack, letting it hit him. He could dodge, but he wanted to feel how much punch she had behind her attacks. Spirals of razor sharp reiatsu exploded from the lance in a net. Ichigo squashed the power with his own, crumpling it in on itself like a broken slinky.
 
Nel held up her hand and called her weapon back to her now that it was devoid of momentum. “With your bare hand? That’s hardly fair.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “I'll go close, you box him in.”
 
At this point, Grimmjow was well aware of the restrictions Ichigo placed on himself and he knew how to play off them for a good time. They both did.
 
Grimmjow lurched into motion, slashing and spinning, wasting no motion at all. Ichigo deflected some rather than outright stopping him, he wanted to see how long he could persist.
 
Nelliel split her lance in two, throwing one overhead to land across from them. Ichigo didn’t think Grimmjow knew about this ability, but he’d unwittingly cast her well. Nelliel was fast, but she was a hard hitter rather than a fighter that thrived in close combat like Grimmjow.
 
She stabbed her other lance into the ground near her hooves and both started to spin. A small tornado of reishi encircled each lance, both hovering within a pit each weapon had dug. She crossed her hands before her and they turned, tracing a chaotic circle.
 
A tornado of reishi rose into the sky, encircling both Grimmjow and Ichigo, and were he any other fighter, it would cut off Ichigo’s escape as well. Their hair whipped around them, Grimmjow’s teeth bared in a thrilled smile. The tornado of power tightened, forcing Ichigo to keep from dodging, or destroy Nelliel’s improvised barrier.
 
Grimmjow moved even faster, each swipe of his claws throwing a simple, but powerful version of Desgarrón. For every attack that missed, his reishi was absorbed into the twister of power, electric blue quickly converted to Nelliel’s own reiatsu.
 
Ichigo was pleased with this turn of events, but he was having a hard time holding back. He blocked and caught Grimmjow’s furious assault, his claws scraping viciously on Grimmjow’s armor. He always drew first blood, a fact that irritated Grimmjow to no end.
 
He jerked his head to the side, Grimmjow’s claws cutting through nothing but his hair. He caught the Espada’s arm, spinning and hurling him into the ground. Nelliel took their separation as her chance, the cyclone of power diverting course to hit him from all sides. He let it, her reiatsu jagged and powerful, but it still wasn’t enough to harm him.
 
Before her reiatsu cleared, she struck at him with both lances, from the front and behind. He caught one as it whizzed past, flipping it in hand to grasp the hilt. He hurled it back at her, faster than she could follow. It impaled the ground near her hooves, and while it startled her, she reached for it with hardly any hesitation at all. Before she could pull it from the sand, he had the other lance in hand, the tip resting against the hollow of her throat.
 
He didn’t let the weapon linger there, he shifted his grip and impaled it in the ground. “I win.” It was redundant statement, but he was in a good mood.
 
He looked over at Grimmjow, who was busy struggling to breathe in a crater a hundred feet away or so. The Espada called out, “Is that fucker even bleeding?!”
 
Nel gave Ichigo a once over and called back. “No!”
 
Grimmjow dropped out of resurreccion, spitting curses and blood. Apparently he’d thrown him harder than he thought.
 
She dropped out of resurreccion herself, letting out a heavy, satisfied breath. “That’s the first time I’ve gone into resurreccion since-” She tapped her mask, now whole. She bit her lip, struggling not to smile. “You’re strong. You took that point blank and didn’t even raise your guard.”
 
Ichigo scowled over at Grimmjow, who wasn’t done swearing, he was only getting louder. “Nah, I did, you just can’t sense my reiatsu. Note how I’m still wearing something. If I took that point blank my clothes would be shredded.”
 
Nelliel nodded seriously, crossing her arms. “I see. Next time, don’t guard.”
 
Ichigo blushed.
 
“For research,” she added.
 
Grimmjow had staggered his way to where they stood, dripping blood from scores of claw marks. None were very deep, but they had to sting. He growled, “Not bad for a goat.”
 
Her lips turned up into a smirk. “Not bad for a kitten.”
 
“Fuck y-”
 
Ichigo grabbed him by the back of his neck and forced him down before he could draw his sword again. “Hush, Grimmjow, or we can keep going if you were getting tired of walking on your own today.” He let him go and Grimmjow spine snapped straight, grinding bloody teeth in fury. Grimmjow had his hand on his hilt again, so he added, “And I’ll have Nelliel escort you to the infirmary.”
 
Grimmjow let go of his sword with a growl of irritation. “You’re a fucking monster.”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Grimmjow.” He looked back to Nelliel and asked, “It’s a bit late, but did you want your position as an Espada back?”
 
“This cunt was an Espada?!”
 
“

Christ

, Grimmjow,

try

not to be a piece of shit. Nelliel was the tres Espada.”
 
Grimmjow was suddenly in her face. “Prove it.”
 
Nel let out a little sigh, then hooked her fingers under her coat and shirt, lifting it up as she turned. Ichigo couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d seen that tattoo, yet there was no disputing that was an Espada ranking. The 3 emblazoned on her lower back was more than enough proof.
 
Grimmjow looked annoyed, then his lips split into an arrogant smile. “Joke’s on you, I’m the tres Espada now, bitch. Just try an’ take it!”
 
She dropped her shirt and jacket, giving Grimmjow the same bemused smile she might give a child. “That’s cute.” To Ichigo she answered, No, I don’t think I do.” She added, “But...would you be opposed to taking me on as your fraccion?”
 
Grimmjow stammered, “W-wait, you’re just dropping out?”
 
Ichigo ignored him. “Is that really what you want?”
 
She said, “I’d rather help

you,

personally. It’s basically what I’m already doing, isn’t it?”
 
Ichigo knew she didn’t like to fight, and she had to know he wouldn’t put her in a position where she would need to unless it was absolutely necessary. “Next meeting I’ll be sure everyone knows.”
 
She seemed pleased with this, giving Grimmjow a look. “I haven’t been an Espada in years, I don’t miss it. Ichigo is different than Aizen, but I’d rather stay on the sidelines.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened. “She called you Ichigo, when did-”
 
“

Yes

,” Ichigo interrupted, “Nelliel knows, all the better that you’re both my fraccion. On that note, at least try to get along. You fought well together, now try,

try

to coexist.”
 
Grimmjow sneered, “Why are you just looking at

me

?”
 
“I’m

sure

there was a reason,” Ichigo drawled.
 
“Smartmouth motherfu-”
 
Ichigo had his hand around Grimmjow’s mouth, stifling his last insult. “Have the decency to leave my mother out of it.” Grimmjow clawed at his hand, making every effort to bite him, but Ichigo’s grip on his jaw was firm.
 
Ichigo looked to Nelliel. “I’m glad you decided to stay.” He’d missed her, but he didn’t say so; This Nel had only known him for days.
 
“I’m glad I did too.” She smiled at Grimmjow, with just a hint of smugness. “I look forward to working with you, Grimmjow.”
 
Ichigo said, “Go see Pesche, take the next few hours, there’s no huge rush to send you back. When you’re ready, go to the old throne room, I’ll be ‘watching’ that room.” He made air quotes with his free hand, he couldn’t see anyone’s movements, but his ability to sense reiatsu wasn’t bad, and Alteza only made it easier. He winced. “Still working on proper communication. Seems Aizen didn’t give enough of a shit to work anything out.”
 
She gave a partly playful salute. “Yessir. See ya later.” The gesture morphed into a half wave when she turned her attention to Grimmjow. “Bye, kitty.”
 
She disappeared in a buzz of sonido, and Ichigo let Grimmjow go. He sucked in a breath and swore, rubbing his jaw. “Ain’t gotta manhandle me, asshole.”
 
Ichigo snorted. “Catching and dodging punches loses its charm after a few weeks.” He yawned, starting back for Las Noches.
 
Grimmjow trailed behind, commenting idly. “You went easy on us.”
 
“I was in a good mood.”
 
“A good mood warrants being allowed to get up and walk the fuck away?” He scoffed derisively. “I’m honored.”
 
“You should be, “Ichigo teased. “If you’re feeling nostalgic, I can break some bones.”
 
Grimmjow grit his teeth. “You already broke some ribs, that’s enough

nostalgia

for me.”
 
“Did I?” Ichigo looked him over, then stopped, reaching for his chest. Grimmjow flinched back and Ichigo paused. He did spend most days beating the shit out of him, he really shouldn’t be surprised by that reaction. “Relax, I’m just going to put you back together.”
 
Grimmjow snarled, “You see me throwing a pity party? Fuck off.”
 
“No. I didn’t mean to break bones, that’s my mistake, and you’ll kindly

let me fix it

.” His tone turned harsh, layered with warning, and Grimmjow decided against arguing. Grimmjow could argue with him all damn day, but there were some instances where he put his foot down, and Grimmjow reluctantly seemed to accept that.
 
Ichigo reached out and pressed his palm to his chest. He could feel the pained flutter of Grimmjow’s muscles, but the Espada was an expert at hiding pain. He focused on the healing Kidou his father taught him, and after Ishida’s strict standards and the efforts he’d taken with Starrk, it was almost easy.
 
He wrapped his reiatsu in and around bones and nerves, weaving together what he’d broken. Grimmjow’s breathing hitched a couple of times, he was no Hanataro, but he’d learned from one of the best, and no matter how terrible of a student, some of it had to sink in.
 
He pulled his hand away, and Grimmjow let out a tense breath. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
 
Ichigo lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I only know the basics, and most of the time, I’m doing more damage than I know how to fix on my own. Therefore, you’re better off in the med bay.”
 
“So why is this time different?”
 
“I told you already, I didn’t intend to .” Grimmjow looked away, and Ichigo knew he was once again drowning in his inadequacies. “I spend so much time holding back, sometimes I slip, but that doesn’t mean you’re weak. No...it’s the opposite. You’re improving so quickly, it’s getting harder to adjust how much strength I should use against you.”
 
Grimmjow just stared at him, likely debating if he was looking down on him. Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not patronizing you.”
 
The Espada scowled. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
 
Ichigo said, “You know it isn’t my intention.”
 
Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, and once again Ichigo couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The Espada left in a blur of sonido, likely to go lick his wounds in peace, and Ichigo was left standing alone. He almost missed the complaining.

--- xxx ---

“White!”
 
Ichigo paused and turned, surprised to see Apacci alone. He’d gotten so accustomed to seeing her flanked by the other Espada that it was almost surreal to see her alone.
 
She closed the considerable gap between them with sonido, and now that she was close, he realized she was out of breath. She whined, “I’ve been looking for you for hours, for fucks sake.”
 
“Szayel is working on that…” She looked like she expected more. “Sorry.”
 
She gave him a skeptical look. “Something tells me you’re not exactly lighting a fire under his ass to get it done.”
 
Apacci wasn’t wrong, he did like his solitude, and if anyone and everyone could get his attention, he could kiss that goodbye. He gave a helpless shrug of his shoulder. “What do you need?”
 
She gestured vaguely at Las Noches. “It isn’t

me

that needs something, not really. Thera brought it up.” She mumbled, “She thinks it's beneath you or some shit, so she hasn’t said anything. But, well, you told us-“
 
“You don’t have to preface it, tell me.” He’d wanted to know if things were amiss, and he’d asked that they not hold their tongue over anything that bothered them. Being so much stronger meant there were more secrets kept than he would ever know about.
 
She fidgeted a bit now that she had his full attention, no one seemed to like it. “Thera’s noticed a couple of arrancar are missing. She’s mentioned one that left after you turned them, she seemed adamant that wasn’t it. She thinks they’re dead.”
 
He’d explicitly ordered arrancar not to hunt other arrancar within Las Noches. If this was the case, he was irritated. He narrowed his eyes. “How certain is she?”
 
“Certain enough that she’s been sniffing around. The arrancar that are missing were higher ranked numeros.”
 
Ichigo recognized concern and fear on Apacci when he saw it, she was worried about Thera. He said, “Thanks for telling me, I’ll talk to her.”
 
She grimaced, “Can you...forget to mention I was the one that told you?”
 
He raised a brow. “You think she would be angry?”
 
“She’s so touchy when it comes to you, she’s nearly as bad as Loly.” She made a gagging sound and turned away, dipping her head as she did in some semblance of a bow. Ichigo expected no less, he was surprised she bothered at all.
 
He reassured her. “I’ll do my best not to.”
 
He turned away as she flickered back into sonido, his rage simmering just beneath the surface.

“Is someone about to die?”

You’ve been quiet, lately.

“Hard to think with that motherfucker whispering all goddamn day.”

And Zangetsu was in a mood. Fabulous.
 
Ichigo answered, “Yes.” He stepped into the shadows, reemerging only a few feet from Grimmjow.
 
The Espada fell off the bed, sword half drown before he snapped out of sleep. He staggered mid lunge and swore, “Mother

fucker

! Don’t

do

that! Can’t I get a little fucking privacy?!”
 
Ichigo was unimpressed. “Nice reaction time.”
 
“Answer me, shithead! What if I was jacking off or naked?”
 
Ichigo scoffed, “What, are you shy?” Grimmjow shoved Pantera back into its sheath more roughly than he needed to, and broke off swearing again. “I need your nose.”
 
“My wha-I ain’t your dog, fuck off.” Grimmjow turned around, probably to ignore him, but Ichigo caught his bicep and started to walk away. Grimmjow had to comply or risk being dragged like a child. “Hey!”
 
“Stop whining. Use your legs or I’ll pull you through el sangre.”
 
Grimmjow seethed. “

You fucker

.”
 
“Calm down, we’re hunting someone, or is that less interesting than sleep?”
 
Ichigo noticed he started walking without needing to haul him down the hallway, so he let him go. Grimmjow looked at him curiously, and he knew he’d hooked him, whether the Espada would admit it or not. Grimmjow tried to mask his interest, but he did a piss poor job of it. The Espada asked, “Hunting who?”
 
“Someone’s been killing arrancar within Las Noches.” He sounded more eager than he wanted to admit. Whoever they were, they hurt arrancar that were under his protection. He’d broken his word.
 
Grimmjow snorted. “Well why the fuck didn’t you say so?”
 
“You were whining.”
 
“Tsk, like

you

can talk.”
 
Ichigo had to admit that was true, he didn’t handle being startled awake very well. Grimmjow had likely spent more time with Ichigo’s hands around his throat than not. All that did in Ichigo’s eyes was justify mocking him for it.
 
Grimmjow walked beside him for a long moment, then asked, “How are you going to find them?”
 
“I’m going to go where they were killed, and you’re going to do the rest.”
 
Grimmjow started, “How are you going to-y’know what, I don’t even care.”
 
The less he had to explain, the better. He almost managed a full ten minutes of silence before Grimmjow spoke. “So...do I get a piece of em’?”
 
“I guess that depends.” He didn’t need to elaborate, Grimmjow had been around him enough to know what that meant.
 
They were already close to the center of Las Noches, so now it was only a matter of going down. The ground eroded under his feet as he walked, replaced by his own reishi. Grimmjow caught himself, but not after he’d fallen a foot or so. “Warn me next time,

shit

.”
 
“We’re going down anyway.” The floors below them parted and he let the reishi he was standing on degrade. He fell, raising his arms to balance himself. The floors whipped by, and the lower they got, the darker it became.
 
The ground rushed up to meet them and they both landed in a controlled crouch, dust billowing away into the dark. Ichigo rocked back on his heels and sat. “Give me a minute.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t complain, he only straightened and took a few cautious steps back.
 
Ichigo let his subconscious take up the responsibility of pushing back die Königin and reached out for el sangre. He imagined normally he would have noticed someone killing an arrancar within Las Noches, but his attention was spread so thin it was no wonder he’d overlooked it. He wasn’t omniscient, not even close, he would simply label it as diligent.
 
He pulled his senses in from the whole of Hueco Mundo, drawing them close by comparison. He could always distantly feel the thriving of ‘life’ within Las Noches, but now he narrowed his focus to be more discreet.
 
He sifted through el sangre, searching for something specific. He’d killed his share of arrancar while he was Alteza’s host, and he’d learned something; dead hollows left a distinct form of el sangre behind when they turned to dust.
 
He opened his eyes. “Found it.”
 
“‘Bout time.”
 
Ichigo stood, casting Grimmjow an expectant look. “Keep up.” He blurred out of sight, and Grimmjow struggled to keep pace. He was still getting faster, he couldn’t help but notice. Of all the arrancar, only Grimmjow and Ulquiorra came close in speed now, no matter how much Zommari might boast.
 
They crossed to the very edge of Las Noches, an area that was completely uninhabited. It seemed like the walls here shifted more frequently, and what little lighting there might usually illuminate the halls was nearly absent. Ichigo could see through Alteza, if it could be called seeing at all.
 
Ichigo didn’t see any visual evidence anything was wrong; he was unsurprised there was no blood left, the evidence had soaked into the stone as the walls shifted and reformed.
 
“I smell blood.”
 
Ichigo turned to look at him in surprise. “Still?” His nose was a good deal better than he thought. “Anything else?”
 
“Lot’s of shit; What am I looking for?”
 
“Probably an Espada.”
 
Grimmjow crouched, dragging his fingers over the ground. “You think an Espada would be this stupid?”
 
“I don’t think they’re doing it because they’re stupid, I don’t think they would be able to help themselves. If an arrancar is killing another arrancar without making waves they’d have to be strong enough to do it first. Or clever enough.”
 
Grimmjow inhaled and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t smell anyone familiar, but I can’t imagine someone like Harribel or Apacci would go to so much trouble.”
 
Ichigo asked, “Who would be your best guess?”
 
Grimmjow looked up then straightened. “What’s yours?”
 
“Would you be surprised if I said Szayel? Zommari, Ulquiorra, and Aaroniero.”
 
Grimmjow raised a brow. “Ulquiorra?

Really

?”
 
Ulquiorra hadn’t defied an order, but he hadn’t seemed to give much of a shit either way. Ichigo said, “If I have to grasp at straws, then yes. I still can’t tell if he’s decided to follow orders, or he’s just hanging around to watch. He’s difficult to read.”
 
Grimmjow made a face and shook his head. “He is, but going out of his way to hide it? I’d go lower in the ranks, someone weaker.”
 
Ichigo took Grimmjow’s opinion seriously, frowning. Of all the Espada, two walked a very fine line. “Szayel or Aaroniero seem the most likely.”
 
“I agree. That tank-headed bastard is always trying to climb in rank.”
 
Ichigo warned, “But we do nothing unless we’re sure.” Grimmjow seemed less excited to hear that. “If you aren’t finding anything, there are more places to check.”
 
“Fine, then let’s move on.”
 
They moved, and the next place was no different, but the third was fresher, the stone was still tinged pink with blood. It was just as isolated, but Ichigo had noticed something else.
 
Grimmjow curled his lips in a snarl. “Stinks like Aaroniero.”
 
Ichigo said, “The reiatsu traces have been different.”
 
The Espada looked at him like he was dense. “Different hollows, of course it’s different.”
 
“Not the dead arrancar, the one doing the devouring.

Aaroniero

.”
 
Grimmjow shrugged. “I wasn’t really paying attention, he has some kind of ability like that, doesn’t he? Who cares, let’s kill him.”
 
Ichigo thought about that for a moment, then gestured, pulling el sangre from the ground. “I’ve changed my mind.”
 
“About killing him? You can’t be serious.”
 
Ichigo gave Grimmjow a dry look. “Of course not, but I’m taking him to Harribel.” The Espada opened his mouth to protest, but Ichigo was already gone.
 
He stepped from the dark mere yards from Aaroniero. He shaped his reiryoku carefully, gesturing vaguely at the arrancar. “Rikujōkōrō.” Thin beams of light stabbed into the arrancar’s torso, holding him immobile and catching him off guard.
 
Aaroniero tried to twist to see him, though with the mask and the Bakudō it was hard to tell. “H-hieka?”
 
Ichigo didn’t humor him with a real response, it was taking plenty of effort not to gut him on the spot.

“Why the fuck should you hold back?”

I’m not a butcher.

“Aren’t you?”

Zangetsu opted not to scream and swear, he went for a gentler, sweeter route, one that made Ichigo want to listen.

“It feels good, why deny it? You have every reason to shred him. Make him bleed, King,”

He realized he hadn’t moved since he’d bound him, and even with a mask, Aaroniero’s fear was palpable.

“Don’t accept who you are, Ichigo, dwell on who you wish to be.”

Ichigo hadn’t heard from Ossan in so long, to have him so bluntly drag to light what he feared hit him hard. He was right, he did want to kill Aaroniero, and he would enjoy it, but it wasn’t who he wanted to be. He wasn’t going to let himself be the monster he knew he could be, not without good reason.

Sorry, Zangetsu.

Zangetsu didn’t protest as vehemently as he expected, he was actually quiet.
 
Ichigo grabbed Aaroniero by the collar, dragging him into el sangre. He dumped him on the ground at Harribel’s feet, starling her fraccion, and Thera. He hadn’t expected her, but it was likely for the best that she witness this.
 
Who knew how Aaroniero functioned, but el sangre didn’t appear to make him as viscerally ill as other arrancar. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut. Mouths? He didn’t care.
 
Harribel gave them both a once over. “What is this?”
 
Ichigo took a step back to stave off temptation. He kept to the facts, but he couldn’t quite keep the fury out of his voice. “Aaroniero has been devouring arrancar within Las Noches. Three that I’m aware of, all recent.”
 
Harribel met his gaze, considering him, then Aaroniero. “You’re certain?”
 
“Grimmjow caught his scent, the reiatsu signature shifted at each kill site; it fits.”
 
Harribel said, “You want him dead.”
 
There was no doubting that. Even if they couldn’t sense his power, he was murderous.
 
Aaroniero protested. “You can’t kill me, I-”
 
A foot between his shoulder blades shut him up. Ichigo flattened him to the ground, dropping his reiatsu in a hammer blow. “I can do as I please. Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” For those three arrancar, he’d broken his word to them, he’d failed them.
 
He narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to take a step back. He left his reiatsu at a level just above crushing. Killing him would feel good, but he wasn’t doing this out of his own personal quest for vengeance, this was the law he’d laid down and Aaroniero had crossed that line.
 
He looked at Harribel, and he thought she understood. She was more than aware this was a battle for him, she’d already stopped him from butchering Szayel. He wasn’t delegating her to be executioner, but he knew she wouldn’t push off responsibilities onto others if she didn’t need to; she would do this herself. He needed to earn trust, and violently killing opposition on what appeared to be fleeting whims would only breed fear.
 
He didn’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner. He might have made himself king, but that wasn’t what he wanted from Las Noches. He’d always considered himself a protector, and if he continued as he was, he would just be the monster everyone feared he was.

“What’s wrong with being the bigger monster, King?”

We know where that road leads.

Loneliness.
 
Harribel strained against his reiatsu, but he knew that she would feel his intentions roiling within his power. He let his reiatsu rise back to a level that wasn’t crushing, and Harribel’s took its place. She dipped her head in a small nod, understanding darkening her eyes.
 
She reached up for her sword, drawing the hollow blade slowly. “We don’t kill our own.” There was a finality to her words, a condemnation that she and Ichigo shared.
 
She raised her Zanpakutou, golden reiatsu surging around the blade. Ichigo felt the arrancar struggle against his Kidou, both voices clashing in their wants. One begged to live, and the other cursed them all to hell. He hated both.
 
Harribel brought it down in a single killing stroke, her power flooding the room, concentrated solely on the bound arrancar at her feet. It flickered away in waves, coiling back around her like the tide. Aaroniero’s entire upper half was gone, he was dead, and still his anger hadn’t abated.
 
He raised his hand palm up, darkness seething from the stone. He tightened his hand into a fist, drawing Aaroniero into el sangre before he could turn to dust.
 
He flinched, startled by the depth of his death. He was expecting one hollow, but he got hundreds. Aaroniero had pieces of every hollow and shinigami he’d ever consumed, and for a brief moment, it was overwhelming.
 
His grip on Hueco Mundo slipped, and by reflex he overcompensated. He threw all of his attention back towards Die Königin, his consciousness lurching from a narrow focus to one that was far too broad.
 
He reestablished his hold, then withdrew, letting Alteza and his subconscious take the brunt of the weight again. He blinked, disoriented, and found he’d nearly collapsed. He was on a knee, a hand on the ground, but he couldn’t recall falling.
 
A quick once over of the room told him he hadn’t missed much time, though Grimmjow had shown up without his noticing. His fraccion stood just a couple feet from him, protectively hovering. He wasn’t sure if he was insulted or flattered.
 
Everyone looked at him in question, but Grimmjow spoke first. “What happened?”
 
He answered, “It seems worse than it is. I didn’t think I’d be able to feel the hollows and shinigami he devoured so clearly, it was startling.” Grimmjow and Harribel could guess there was more to it, but Ichigo didn’t want the other four to know just how precarious their situation was.
 
Ichigo straightened, and now that he was standing, Grimmjow seemed to notice how close he was, and he took a step to the side.
 
Harribel’s sword was now sheathed as she paced up to him, her voice low enough that only he and Grimmjow could hear. “Go cool off.”
 
He saw approval in her eyes, and it helped ease his fears more than he thought. He nodded, grateful for the escape, and flashed away with sonido. Grimmjow followed, but he kept a wary distance. Ichigo wanted a fight, and Zangetsu would give it to him.

--- xxx ---

A week later

Ichigo stepped out of el sangre, but Szayel was waiting for him, he didn’t startle him as badly as usual. The Espada still jumped a bit, but he thought that might be due to the sleeplessness. He looked awful, and for an Espada that prided himself on his appearance, it was telling.
 
He dipped his head in a shallow bow. “Heika...I studied the device and made simple copies. I can show you how they work.”
 
Ichigo stepped around the table so he was directly before Szayel. They stood almost eye to eye, but Szayel wouldn’t look at him. “When was the last time you slept?”
 
He saw genuine annoyance flash across the Espada’s face. “I don’t know.”
 
“Are you eating?” Szayel didn’t answer, but he leaned away, his hair carefully covering the scar he’d given him. “Szayel, you look like hell.”
 
Szayel chuckled, forcing himself to meet Ichigo’s eyes. “Playing at

concern

? Let’s not delude ourselves into pretending you wouldn’t prefer me dead.” There was a hint of madness in his eyes. It had always been there, but now it was directed at him, and he found it unsettling.
 
Ichigo didn’t humor that with a response, they both knew it was true. “What’s wrong with you?”
 
Fury darkened his face, making him bolder than he had any right to be. “

You

. You have no idea what you’ve done.”
 
“I suppose I don’t.”

“Who the fuck cares? I still say we should have killed him.”

Sayel hissed, “Nearly everything I believed to be true no longer matters. You can build arrancar up and tear them down like some kind of

God

, you shouldn't be able to do this.”
 
Ichigo asked, “Does my existence bother you so much?”

“Does it

bother

me?”
 
The arrancar leaned in, close, too close. He was going to kiss him. Ichigo froze.
 
He didn’t move, but Zangetsu did. He materialized before Ichigo could even think about it, his hands around Szayel’s neck, slamming him into the wall hard enough to crack stone. His grip was crushing, Szayel’s fingers clawed at his hand, but Ichigo thought he saw satisfaction in the Espada’s eyes.
 
Zangetsu’s voice shook with rage. “How

dare

you.”
 
Ichigo crossed the distance in sonido, seizing Zangetsu’s wrist. He squeezed, trying to force his grip to ease. “Let him speak!”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Stop,”

Ichigo snapped. Zangetsu ground his teeth, ignoring him, his claws digging into Szayel’s neck. Blood started to soak the Espada’s collar, seconds creeped by and the Espada’s eyes rolled back in his head, drool coating his chin and Zangetsu’s hand.
 
Ichigo was furious, but he was also confused, and his need to know why only slightly outweighed his need to watch the Espada die. There was no love lost between them, Szayel hated him plenty.

Zangetsu I need to hear him out. Stop.

“

Why? He deserves this and then some.”

Ichigo’s grip tightened on Zangetsu’s arm, and while Szayel couldn’t feel it, his reiatsu pressured his hollow enough that the strain started to show.

Let him speak and

I’ll

decide what he deserves.

Zangetsu’s eyes narrowed, his grip briefly tightening, then his stranglehold loosened enough for the Espada to gasp for air.
 
Ichigo finally looked at Szayel and demanded. “Why?”
 
Szayel’s weight was being supported by the hands on his neck, he could barely get the words out. “Even...Aizen suffered flaws. He was still...shinigami. I thought

I

was perfect, but I was wrong, you showed me I was wrong. It’s

you

. You’re not an arrancar, you’re not shinigami, you’re something

else

; I can’t explain you, or your power.” There was a manic gleam in his eye, one that promised violence. “

You’re perfect. I want you

.”
 
Ichigo recognized that look, he’d seen it before, but now the scales were flipped, and he was the one in control.
 
Zangetsu tightened his grip again. “You can’t have him.”
 
Szayel didn’t give a damn about him, he wasn’t stupid, he was obsessed with his power, and that obsession had become a perverse need. He wasn’t sure if he pitied him or not, but the revulsion that turned his stomach was real. Zangetsu had to feel it, he saw his hands tighten in a reflection of his own desires.

He still isn’t worth it, Zangetsu. Let him go.

“King.”

There was a desperate edge to his hollow’s tone he wasn’t use to hearing.
 
Even if you kill him right here, the sick fuck will just get what he wants.
 
Zangetsu lessened his grip enough for Szayel’s feet to touch the floor. The Espada drew deep breaths that quickly devolved into hoarse laughter, his relief somehow managing to come off smug. Zangetsu let go, taking a step back in disgust.
 
Szayel lifted his hand to his throat, wincing, but he looked altogether too pleased with himself. “If you’re done trying to kill me, shall I continue,

heika

?”
 
This time there was mocking emphasis on the title, and Ichigo could see now what Szayel had done was a risky test. The manipulative bastard. Szayel might not have been able to harm him, but he’d figured out how to get a reaction. “What if I’d killed you?”
 
Szayel smiled. “Then I would be a poor player.”
 
Zangetsu hadn’t lost interest in the arrancar, Ichigo noted how his hands flexed and clenched. “This isn’t a game you can win.” His hollow didn’t touch Szayel, but he got very close.
 
“Who says I’m playing to win?” He said, “You frighten me, and that’s a rare thing. You showed me my mortality. I

revile

you for that.”
 
Ichigo asked, “Would you prefer a pretty lie?”
 
“The truth is always ugly. I despise ugly things.”
 
Zangetsu snorted in disgust, his hand snapping out to grab Szayel’s jaw before either of them could think to do something about it. “I don’t care what King wants, try that again and I’ll rip out your tongue, then we’ll play a game and see how long it takes you to drown.” Zangetsu shoved him, Szayel’s back hitting the wall hard enough to make him grimace, and his hollow retreated back into his soul.
 
Ichigo couldn’t be upset over the threat, if he was being honest he felt the same way. He took Zangetsu’s place before Szayel, noticing his pupils were dilated in fear. The Espada might have manipulated him, but it wasn’t all an act. The fear, the obsession, that was real. “Just show me how the communication devices work.”
 
Szayel slinked around him, watching him carefully, like Ichigo might lash out. It wasn’t an unfounded fear.
 
The Espada kept the work table between them for his own peace of mind, braving meeting Ichigo’s eyes. It was hard to read the look in his eyes, it was too chaotic. Szayel purred, “It’s good to be alive, isn’t it?”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Abarai Renji

Soul Society

Crickets and katydids screamed from the grass and trees, filling the night with the blissful sound of the last rounds of summer. Gravel crunched under their sandles, his eyes on Rukia’s back. She hadn’t said anything since she’d excused herself and got up to leave. He hadn’t intended to follow her, but the moment she left, he suddenly couldn’t give a damn about Ikkaku's shit singing and Kira’s whining, it just wasn’t the same when she wasn’t there.
 
He’d staggered his way from the bar to the street, and picked up the pace behind her. Rukia had been quiet all night, and now as he trailed behind her, he felt that same uncomfortable distance stretch between them.
 
“Oy, Rukia.”
 
His voice seemed too loud, even against the backdrop of night. She stopped and looked back at him, the waxing moon drawing a silver line around her silhouette. She watched him expectantly, a great deal more sober than he was. He asked, “Are you okay?”
 
She forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be? That’s an odd question.”
 
Ever since Kurosaki, since Aizen, she was trapped in her own thoughts. Even though she stood just inches from him, she might as well have been miles away. His eyes narrowed in a scowl. “Come on, Rukia, don’t kid yourself, you’ve barely engaged at all these past few weeks.”
 
Her brows furrowed, looking away.
 
“Is this about Kurosaki?”
 
“

No

.” The force of her own answer surprised her as well as Renji. She closed her eyes with a sharp sigh. “...I don’t know.”
 
She was finally engaging, reacting, so he didn’t stop pushing. Maybe it was the false haze of bravery from the three rounds of sake, or maybe he was fed up. He said, “You spoke with him before he disappeared. Does it have something to do with that?”
 
“Let it go, Renji.”
 
“How am I supposed to let it go? You’re here, but you’re not.”
 
Rukia said nothing, and a splinter of pain dug into his heart. He half turned away, looking back at the dark, tree-lined path with a scowl. He muttered, “I’ll just go back.”
 
He felt anger wash over him in place of hurt when she didn’t stop him. He started back down the path. Maybe it was stupid to think things could go back to how they had been.
 
“

Renji

.”
 
She’d spoken it so softly, he almost couldn’t hear it, but it was there. He stopped and looked back, and saw that he’d almost made a mistake.
 
Her shoulders lifted and fell in silent sobs, tears shining on her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself like that might somehow hold her together. He didn’t know why she was so torn, but knowing she’d been hiding this for weeks made his stomach flip.
 
Without thinking about it, he’d crossed the distance and ended up pulling her into his arms. She was shaking, tense, and he only held her tighter for it. She was so strong, he’d seen her fight, he’d even found himself on the ground aching after sparring against her, but holding her there in his arms, she felt small.
 
Her tension slowly began to drain away, but she didn’t take her face away from his chest. He didn’t let go, not even when she started to speak. “I went to his funeral…”
 
He sucked in a breath. Fucking hell, Rukia.
 
“I talked to him more than once, couldn’t I have said something,

done

something?”
 
He let out a long, slow breath. “Rukia, you can’t blame yourself.” He should have known.
 
“Yuzu used to let me borrow her clothes, she would cook for me, invite me to sit with them for dinner...even their father was kind; They all treated me like family, and how did I repay that? I ruined their family, he’s

dead

.”
 
“

Rukia

.” He stopped her before she got hysterical. She had a habit of blaming herself, of drowning in her guilt. “He knew what he was getting into. I don’t know him that well, but that stubborn bastard would have done whatever the hell he wanted, regardless of what you had to say. You might have gotten the ball rolling when you transferred your powers to him, but you are

not

responsible for this, you hear me?”
 
She was silent, so he took her by the shoulders, pushing her away so he could see her face. She looked miserable, and he steeled himself to not cave under that look in her eyes. “Would any of them blame you for this? Would Ichigo?” He knew they wouldn’t, she wouldn’t be so torn up if they did.
 
Rukia admitted, “No…”
 
“Of course not, they’re your friends, aren’t they?”
 
She sucked in a breath to speak, but a hollow cry echoed through the trees. It was then that Renji noticed how quiet it had become. The crickets were silent, there was barely even a breeze to ruffle the grass, and that hollow sounded uncomfortably close.
 
“Renji, whose jurisdiction is this?”
 
They might be from the Rukongai, but not this area, and Renji was the one that dragged Rukia along. “Uhhh, Seventh? I think.”
 
Rukia’s brows furrowed. “I don’t hear any alarms.”
 
Renji was already starting for the howl and Rukia had to run to keep up. “Renji! You’re drunk, you’ll just be a liability.”
 
Renji scoffed, “I ain’t that drunk, no more than Ikkaku on any given afternoon. I’m going.” If not for that Kurosaki they wouldn’t be in a state of war and he wouldn’t have his Zanpakuto. He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for that or not, for all he knew, Kurosaki was behind this attack.
 
He stole a look at Rukia, and he had to wonder if she had similar suspicions. She kept her concerns so close to her chest, it was difficult to tell. In that regard, she’d taken wholeheartedly after her brother.
 
They both drew their Zanpakuto as they grew closer, but it was still too quiet. Normally during an attack there was chaos, screams, alarms. A shiver rode up his spine as they slowed among a small cluster of houses. He used ‘house’ loosely, the buildings were shacks at best, they were barely weather proofed.
 
It was unusually dark; There were no torches lit, no campfires, only moonlight. He could sense a hollow, but he couldn’t see it worth a damn.
 
He tripped on something soft and looked down. He immediately regretted it.
 
Even with the canopy of leaves obscuring the moonlight, he could see the outline of an arm.
 
Without realizing it, he’d shifted so his back was to Rukia’s. If this hollow was strong enough to mask its presence under a blanket of reiatsu, it might be strong enough to resist a sealed Zanpakuto. His voice was low as he spoke his swords release phrase. “Howl, Zabimaru.” His Zanpakuto rippled in silver, the blade separating into deadly segments.
 
Rukia followed suit, the wave of freezing air that followed her release coating their surroundings in a thin layer of frost. The water reflected the light, dimly illuminating their surroundings. It was eerily beautiful, he hadn’t gotten many chances to see Rukia use her Zanpakuto.
 
They waited in tense anticipation, scanning the trees and shacks for any sign of movement. A frozen mist of a hollows breath formed not fifty feet from where they stood. Renji shuddered in the cold, shifting his stance. “I see one.”
 
Rukia's voice was strained. “I see two and a potential hostage. Switch with me.”
 
Sode no Shirayuki’s ability rewarded fighting solo, even with her level of control, he imagined she didn’t want to risk killing someone on accident. Contact alone was enough to freeze an enemy solid, and with the ground already chilled with the coming of winter, Rukia was in her element. Him being there at all was likely handicapping Rukia, but he wasn’t about to leave her alone when the situation was still unknown.
 
She took a step back, her ankle brushing his, and they quickly traded spaces. There were two hollows not a hundred feet from where they stood, and he now understood the waver in her voice.
 
One hollow was hunched over, breath clouding in front of its face. It gnawed on something, and while he could try to convince himself it was hard to make out, in the back of his mind, he knew it was a person. The second trapped another beneath its foot, unmoving, but potentially alive.
 
He lowered his stance and and leapt forward, swinging Zabimaru out in an extended arc. His Zanpakuto cut through a sapling, splitting the closer hollow in half. It howled in pain as his sword lodged in the back of the one hunching over its prey. The injured one dropped its prey with a sharp cry of rage, tossing what was left of its victim like a hapless doll.
 
The one he’d cut in half dissolved into dust as he ran, swinging Zabimaru back around. The hollow was on him in seconds, horns lowered to impale him. He jumped, Zabimaru’s segments snapping back into place. He twisted in the air, throwing Zabimaru’s extensions out again. His sword cut down and through its mask and most of its upper body, wedging in its spine. The bull-like hollow collapsed, blowing away into dust.
 
Renji landed, jerking his wrist to snap his Zanpakutou back into place. He scanned his surroundings and caught sight of Rukia and a frozen statue of a hollow. The ice groaned and snapped like a falling tree, then collapsed, shattering on the ground.
 
Renji jogged over to the prone human, but as he grew closer his hopes fell. He knelt to check if they were alive anyways, but his fears were only confirmed.
 
He straightened and looked to Rukia, who was already relating a message through a Jigokuchō. As he approached, it fluttered away, carrying Rukia’s message with it. She said, “I don’t understand why no alarm was raised. If we hadn’t been here…”
 
The hollows were weak, but even for a seated squad member, they might have proved deadly. They hadn’t killed these people, but it felt like their negligence had. The people of the Rukongai had little trust in Seireitei, and this wasn’t going to help. Ikkaku had brought up a surprise attack on a patrol in the South, and Renji thought he’d been exaggerating for flair. Clearly he hadn’t been. Soul Society had failsafes on top of failsafes on top of alarms set to trigger when a garganta opened, but they had still failed, or been circumvented.
 
Renji mused, “If they didn't come through a garganta…” He trailed off, letting his suspicions fill the silence. The timing couldn’t just be coincidence, it couldn’t be. Kurosaki takes control of Hueco Mundo and now this?
 
She shot him a sharp look, but said nothing. Renji shook off his suspicions the best he could, but the thought still prickled at the edge of his thoughts. Speculating wouldn’t solve anything, for all he knew there was another Aizen out there.
 
They waited in the dark for reinforcements, swords still drawn and ready out of caution, and searched the small settlement for survivors. They didn’t find any, and neither had another word to say.

--- xxx ---
  
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero (deceased)

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck - former tres

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Stars, hide your fires;

Let not light see my black and deep desires.”

- Macbeth

--- xxx ---

Kurosaki Ichigo

Hueco Mundo - Alternate timeline

He clenched his hands in the sand, abrasive on his skin. He heaved until tears stung his eyes. The sight alone of the ruby blood staining his hands was enough to make his stomach flip all over again. His fingers ended in wicked claws, a painful reminder of half-remembered memories that only made it worse.
 
There was nothing for miles but ivory sand, the hiss of it shifting in the wind interrupted as he gagged on the taste of death.
 
He was alone; there was no one to impress, no one to hide from, so he cried. Tears streaked his cheeks, pattering on the sand. “What did you

do

?”

“WHAT I HAD TO!”

The sheer anger and volume in his answer made Ichigo flinch.
 
He could still remember the sounds, the taste, so acutely aware hollows were once human. He threw up again, but it was mostly bile.
 
His voice was thick with betrayal and denial. “You...you ate a hollow.” He stopped to heave again, gasping for air.

“What would you have us do, break down and starve?! What do you see? Nothing! Your fucking

friends

aren’t coming for you.”

Every word made Ichigo flinch, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stop.”
 
Ichigo felt a tug on his reiryoku, the echoing tones of his hollow suddenly all too real.

“Does the truth

hurt

?”

Zangetsu’s tone was sharp, mocking.

Yes

, yes it hurt. It stole all the breath from his lungs and struck his heart with knives.
 
Ossan warned. “

Hollow…

”
 
Ichigo didn’t want to acknowledge him, it meant acknowledging the pain. Yuzu was gone, Karin was

gone

…Gone. DEAD. ”Please, stop.”
 
Zangetsu fisted his hand in Ichigo’s hair, now far too long, forcing Ichigo to look at him. “Don’t give up on me, King.” His hollow looked like a monster, he looked different.
 
Ichigo cried. “They’re gone, Zangetsu,

they’re gone.”

Zangetsu’s eyes burned, yanking Ichigo closer. He shouted in his face. “I KNOW! And who did it?”
 
Ichigo would never forget his smug smile, the expectant, condescending way that bastard looked down at him.
 
“SAY IT!”
 
Ichigo’s voice shook in pain and rage, hoarse from overuse. “Aizen.”
 
“So you can’t give up and die, you’re not done yet. Not so long as that piece of shit is still breathing.”
 
Ichigo couldn’t stand to see the disappointment and judgement on his face, so he looked away, and Zangetsu had had enough.
 
His Zanpakuto threw him down in the sand and Ichigo let him, grunting in pain. Zangetsu hovered over him and punched the ground by his face as hard as he could. “Don’t look away from me!”
 
Ichigo flinched, his eyes snapping up to Zangetsu’s on reflex. He realized his hollow wasn’t just angry, his own pain was reflected there, deep enough he hadn’t noticed it before.
 
Ichigo’s eyes traced the dangerous curve of his horns, the markings, then rested on the hollow hole in Zangetsu’s chest. He was struck with the realization that Zangetsu was a mirror of himself. He reached for his own chest, but Zangetsu’s hand shot out and caught him before he could. “

King

,” he warned.
 
Ichigo looked down, not able to fully see what he was looking at, but the hole in his own chest was still visible. He started to panic, his breath coming shallow and fast.
 
Zangetsu captured his other wrist before he could fight him off, flattening his arms to the sand on either side of his head. He ordered, “King, stop. Calm down.”
 
Ichigo fought to remove his hands, but Zangetsu’s grip was strong. “I’m a hollow? I can’t be-”
 
“You’re not dead. You don’t remember?”
 
Remember what? Remember…
 
Ossan answered his unspoken questions, because Zangetsu wouldn’t.

“Your hollow took over your body, you weren’t mentally sound. He’s kept you hollowfied for days to keep the pain in your heart at bay.”

Ichigo looked up at Zangetsu, eyes wide. “Days?”
 
Zangetsu narrowed his eyes in what Ichigo swore was pity. “Yeah, King, it’s been awhile.”
 
He only remembered disjointed pieces, like a half remembered dream. His sword dug into his back just as hard as Zangetsu’s claws in his wrists, his hollow wasn’t allowing Ichigo to ignore him. Ichigo asked, “Why did you give me back control?”
 
He and his hollow had competed for control, once, but he thought he’d resolved it with Shinji. They were back at square one, worse, Zangetsu had fought him for control and

won

.
 
Zangetsu didn’t say anything. He let go of his wrists and rolled off, sitting across from him with a carefully blank expression. It was an expression he recognized, because it was all too familiar on his features; Zangetsu backed off because he was feeling regret. He hadn’t ever seen his hollow be anything more than cocky or violent.
 
Ichigo sat up, panic still gripping his chest, and watched his hollow carefully. “Zangetsu?”
 
His face twisted into a snarl. “I told you, didn’t I?! If you can’t be trusted to keep yourself alive, I’ll do it for you.”
 
Ichigo couldn’t remember, he only remembered a nightmare. He repeated his question. “Why did you give me back control?”
 
Zangetsu answered quietly. “You were in pain.”
 
There wasn’t much emotion in his voice, but there didn’t need to be. Zangetsu wasn’t talking about physical pain.
 
He must have shaken his hollow enough for him to back off. He just didn’t know why. He was so eager to take control before, what had changed?
 
Ichigo asked, “What is it you want?”
 
“You still don’t know?” Zangetsu accused. Ichigo said nothing, he could only hope for an answer. “I want to protect you, King.”
 
His Zanpakuto’s answer startled him. He thought back through every conversation he’d ever had with him, every fight, every struggle. He didn’t think Zangetsu was lying. It had been startling enough to learn his hollow was really Zangetsu, and Ossan was the outsider. Zangetsu was more a part of him than he’d ever realized, and he supposed he had Szayel to thank for learning that.

Szayel

. He remembered killing Szayel, he would never forget. He didn’t want to forget.

He’d liked it.

It wasn’t just a craving for battle he desired, it was acknowledging the depths he would fall to in the will to survive. Zangetsu had taken some of those steps for him, but he was still a part of him.
 
He looked down at his hands, still red with blood, and they trembled. He failed, they were gone. His vision blurred until he had to close them. He remembered rage, so blinding nothing else mattered. He almost preferred it to

this

. This agony.
 
He was alone in Hueco Mundo, no one was coming for him, why would they? Technically, he was alone, but Zangetsu and Ossan were still there, they would always be there.
 
Ichigo asked, “Why are you still calling me that?”

“Because you’re King.”
 
Such an infuriatingly simple answer. Ichigo let out a ragged breath. “Stop lying to me.”
 
“It ain’t a lie.”

Liar

.
 
But Zangetsu was right about something, there was still more to do. He wasn’t done yet, he couldn’t afford to just give up.
 
He let his hollowfication go, he didn’t want to feel through a haze, he needed his emotions clear. His transformation fell away and his pain came crashing down on him threefold. He knew now why Zangetsu had kept this from him. If he truly wanted to protect him, there was no deeper pain than this.
 
Ichigo looked up at Zangetsu, tears dripping from his cheeks to his hands. His hollow watched him with wide eyes. He looked distraught, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that look on his face before.
 
Ichigo felt his anger simmering just beneath his pain. His voice shook. “I want him to die.” He grit his teeth, holding back a sob. He didn’t think he was begging for help, nor did he think he expected it. He

needed

Zangetsu.
 
Zangetsu leaned in, his forehead pressing against his. Not gently, never gentle, he wasn’t sure Zangetsu could ever truly be gentle.
 
His hollow growled a promise. “He’ll pay for this, King.”

--- xxx ---

Zangetsu

Hueco Mundo

It wasn’t often he felt the need to babysit his wielder while he slept, but it was a rough week, and he had ample reason. The terms were unspoken, yet strict rules they both lived by.
 
It was one thing to experience the needs and desires of an average adjuchas, but another thing entirely to feel the heart of a cannibal that enjoyed himself. If King hadn’t killed the fucker, he would have done it himself.
 
He let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes flicking down to King. The visored never relaxed in his sleep, even a kidou induced one. His brows were still drawn tight, his jaw clenched. He could spy and listen in on his heart, his nightmares, his pain, but he knew what he would find; Memories best left forgotten.
 
King had accepted that if he wanted to survive in Hueco Mundo, he had to eat

something

, and there was nothing but hollows. Maybe King could have accepted that if there was nothing else to it, but of course there was more. He still couldn’t forgive the princess for that look on her face. She’d utterly rejected him, just for surviving. Stupid bitch.
 
He understood King’s desperate need to protect the people that might not even like him, but that didn’t mean

he

had to approve.
 
He let his eyes close, tracing King’s tumultuous thoughts, and counted the minutes with the hope he would stay asleep.
 
Those hopes were dashed what he felt Espada level reiatsu drift far too close for comfort.

Harribel

. If she came looking for King, he could guess what for.
 
He opened his eyes and got up, careful not to disturb his wielder. No matter how comfortable King had gotten with his presence, he no longer slept the innocent sleep of children and dogs.
 
He met her halfway in the hall, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “Let him sleep.”
 
She stopped and stared at him, and he realized she hadn’t seen him before. He didn't think his wielder intended for him to be some big secret, so he saw no problem with this beyond the fear she might make a scene.
 
“Who are you?” she asked.
 
“What’s it look like? I’m King’s Zanpakuto. He’s sleeping, so fuck off.”
 
She narrowed her eyes, wrestling with the idea of arguing. She decided to direct her questions at him instead. “Why did White kill the adjuchas?”
 
He narrowed his eyes, tempted to simply send her on her way with violence, but the odds that would wake King were extremely high. He deflected, “The fuck deserved it.”
 
Her tone grew sharper. “Did White not agree to consult with me before he killed any hollow in Las Noches?”
 
“Did he? Slipped my mind.”
 
Her eyes narrowed in actual annoyance, he thought that might be the first real emotion he’d seen on her face. She said, “The arrancar are scared. He killed a hollow he offered sanctum without so much as an explanation. Where is their trust now?”
 
Zangetsu sighed in exasperation, his eyes flicking towards his wielder. This wasn’t a conversation King would want him to have, and if he had it, he would be upset.
 
He directed his thoughts inward, to the bond he shared with his weiler.

“Hey ossan, what do I tell her?”

“The truth. That is what Ichigo promised her, is it not?”

He looked back at her and said, “He didn’t mean to.”
 
Harribel snapped, “I won’t accept childish excuses.”
 
He lifted his fingers to his lips. “Shhhh,” His tone was patronizing, he couldn’t help it. “If he wakes up, I won’t be nearly so friendly.” He pushed off from the wall, crossing to stand directly before her so he wouldn’t need to raise his voice at all. He noticed how she tensed. Apparently he scared her more than King.
 
He said, “I meant what I said; he didn’t intend to kill ‘im.”
 
She answered incredulously, “White killed him

by accident

?”
 
“Understand something, Harribel, King is dictated by instinct more than reason when he’s afraid.” Her brows furrowed at that word; afraid. He could only imagine the rumors she’d heard. King knew he’d fucked up the moment he’d clawed the adjuchas’ throat out. Messy and flashy, but ultimately it hadn’t helped King separate the past from the present.
 
He explained, “When King turns an adjuchas, he’s reaching into their soul, he’s finding their heart and helping return it.” They could still refuse it, but so far they hadn’t encountered a hollow that would. “Do you understand what that means?”
 
She guessed, “He found something he didn’t like?”
 
“He

felt

,” he corrected, “something he didn’t like.” Her brows drew together and she waited for him to continue. “No hollow is a saint, but this adjuchas was something else. He hunted

kids

. Fucker liked to eat them while they were still alive. He didn’t just learn this as an observer, he lived it, he had to

taste

it.”
 
He was still a part of King, he hadn’t liked it either, it reminded them both of a time they would rather forget. “That crossed a line.”
 
Even Harribel curled her lip in disgust, considering that before she spoke. “I sympathize, but he still killed a hollow with an audience, for what

appears

to be no reason.”
 
“And I’m sure he’ll deal with it, but right now he’s sleeping.”
 
His answer seemed to confuse her. “It’s barely been an hour, and he’s asleep?”
 
Zangetsu clenched his jaw. The bitch wasn’t stupid.

“Ossan, does this count as ‘the truth?’”

A pause, then a stiff,

“Yes.”

Zangetsu grit his teeth, hating being backed into a corner, metaphysically or otherwise. “He was panicking, I knocked him out.”
 
She looked surprised, but he wasn’t sure which part was throwing her. She asked, “Was that wise, given the situation?”
 
He determined she was talking about die Königin. “It doesn’t make much of a difference, his control was tenuous at best.”
 
Without King there to question, he could tell she was at a loss, but was unwilling to leave. She finally asked, “How is he?”
 
“He’ll be fine.” He wasn’t tripping over himself to give her specifics, and it was clear that annoyed her.
 
She asked, “Why didn’t he tell anyone this could happen?”
 
Zangetsu scoffed. “Don’t tell me that’s a serious question.” Her eyes narrowed, clearly expecting an answer. “The benefit outweighs the risks, or something to that degree. No one asked, so he decided not to tell.”
 
She tilted her head a fraction, and he didn’t like how closely she analyzed his answer. It reminded him of Ossan, which was all the more reason to hate it. She asked, “What are the risks to White?”

Risks

. Such a small word for so much trouble. He frowned, taking a small step back. “

Leave

.”
 
She asked again. “What are the risks?”
 
King’s soul, his

sanity.

It was all on the line for them. Didn’t they realize?
 
She pressed. “Clearly there are risks. I need to know them.”
 
He bared his teeth in a silent snarl, itching for violence. She just kept pushing, and he had an even shorter fuse than King.

“Hollow,”

Ossan warned.
 
He took a step in her direction, and to his surprise, he found Ossan directly in his path. He looked at the Quincy with wide eyes.

“But he’s hollowfied.”

“Yes, and he is also asleep.”

He shouldn’t be able to manifest, not as far as he knew. Whenever King leaned on his Quincy blood, he’d always found King’s power to be distant from his own. He couldn’t imagine this was easy for the other spirit.
 
The Quincy spirit looked past him, pointedly urging him to back off.

“Go to him.”

Zangetsu’s lifted his hand to his sword, squeezing the hilt, then abruptly let it go, turning and storming back down the hall. It wasn’t worth fighting over, and he’d rather Ossan take care of it anyway.
---xxx---
Zangetsu no Ossan
 
Usually the boy was willing and able to handle his hollow, but at the moment, he was occupied, and he couldn’t blame him for it. He turned to face Harribel once Zangetsu backed off, and noted Harribel seemed more than a little alarmed to see him. She gripped her sword, but didn’t draw. “Who are you?”
 
“My wielder has two spirits, and I am the second.”
 
“Two?” Her eyes narrowed, skeptical, but uncertain she could do anything against him. “I’ve never heard of this.”
 
“And yet it remains no less true.” She said nothing, so he took that as signal enough to continue. “The hollow might be unwilling to answer, but I believe my wielder was being genuine when he determined to tell you the truth.”
 
“The truth? He tells me nothing.”
 
He heard the bite in her tone, but ignored it, it was deserving. He said, “You asked about risks. That depends entirely on what you consider to be a risk. My wielder is a child of war, his trust runs thin, and his thirst for violence rivals the most hot blooded arrancar. He had too much power for a child, and too much blame and responsibility was thrown at his feet. He grew into it, he had to, but he is not without his flaws.
 
“My wielder does not handle loss of control very well, nor can he tolerate those that harm children. As long as his personal space isn’t violated, you and any other arrancar has nothing to fear.”
 
Harribel regarded him silently, then lowered her hand from her sword, thoughtful. She looked past him to where Ichigo slept, brows furrowed. “He’s far from stable.”
 
“I won’t disagree, but his desire to protect is more than an admirable trait, it’s obsessive. Aizen nearly broke his spirit, he took those that mattered to him the most. He does not wish to let anyone else die.” He had felt the way Ichigo’s heart ached in empathy. He understood the solitude of the adjuchas he turned, their various fears and desires, and he couldn’t let it go.
 
He attempted to explain. “The arrancar he killed was vile, but the rest have his protection. I don’t think you understand how hard it was for my wielder to keep from slaying Aaroniero where he stood. He

knows

these arrancar, even if he doesn’t know their name. Speak to him when he wakes, but I’ll ask you to show restraint.”
 
“Why?” She asked. Her tone was less demanding, he knew she would at least consider his words.
 
“He would much rather you not see this.” He was asking her to protect Ichigo’s pride. His wielder would be upset with him, his pride would take a hit for it no matter what he did. He wasn’t above steering Ichigo in a direction he thought would be beneficial, and his wielder couldn’t do this alone, no matter how stubbornly he tried.
 
---xxx---

Kurosaki Ichigo
 
He jolted awake, which was nothing unusual, but the fringes of his thoughts were fuzzy, his thoughts muddled. He backed straight into someone, sucking in a breath in panic. He would have fought if not for the claws suddenly at his throat. Instinct held him still in fear, but the voice at his ear was familiar. “Easy, King, it’s just me.”
 
Zangetsu. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and those claws disappeared.
 
His nightmares came crashing back down on him, and he suddenly longed for the ignorance that paired with his confusion and fear. The memory of an amber haired girl, so like Yuzu, screaming in agony--A foreign wave of exaltation. His hand was still sticky with blood. He twisted in his hollow’s grip to heave, his stomach thankfully empty.
 
He panted, trying to piece together which memories were his own. He caught enough breath to accuse. “You used

Kidou

on me?”
 
“Don’t have any regrets over it either.”
 
He batted Zangetsu’s hands away and sat, back to the wall. He reestablished his connection with the outer reaches of Altea’s control, slipping into that role with more ease than he expected. He’d lost ground, but not too much .
 
He sensed reiatsu very close by, close enough that he knew one of his spirits had willingly invited them. He hissed under his breath. “What’s she doing here?”
 
“Ask the old man.”
 
It was then that Ichigo noticed the pull on his reiryoku was higher than usual, his eyes flicking over to the Quincy spirit in surprise. Ossan stood in the corner watching them both, and even if his glasses hid his eyes, Ichigo could sense his concern.
 
Ossan said, “She’s been very patient.”
 
Ichigo growled, “I don’t care how patient she’s been.”

“Ichigo.”

The word rang in Ichigo’s mind, part comfort, and part admonishment. Ossan was likely the only person in his life who could say his name with such a range of meaning.
 
The visored looked at the Quincy, crossing his legs to rest his head against the wall. He didn’t want to see her, not in the slightest. The man always had a reason, he was struggling to put together a good enough argument.
 
He finally looked away, crumbling under the weight of Ossan’s gaze. “Fine…”
 
Zangetsu stood, hovering so closely he nearly touched. They had clearly said a lot while he ‘slept’ if Zangetsu wasn’t making a fuss.
 
Ossan’s attention shifted towards the door, calling. “Harribel.”
 
She wasn’t far away, but he heard her footsteps before he saw her, light and deliberate. She stepped into the room, stopping once she was before him. He wanted to get up, but it would be more embarrassing to try and fail than to not try at all.
 
He was grateful that she chose to sit as well, folding her legs and sitting across from him.
 
She spoke first. “I’d like to hear what happened.”
 
Wincing, he said, “I think you already know what happened.”
 
“I’d like to hear it from you.”
 
He didn’t even know where to start. “I’m not sorry.”
 
She didn’t seem surprised to hear that. She said, “Explain it to me.”
 
He looked at Zangetsu, who was very pointedly looking elsewhere, arms crossed likely to keep him from using them. He started. “Maybe you won’t really understand what I mean, because you don’t share your soul with another. It’s jarring, to share something like that.
 
“Everyone has their secrets, pieces of themselves they would sooner deny. Then there are those that embrace it. I reached for his heart...I thought I was prepared for it. I wasn’t.”
 
“Decades of memories, emotions, sensations, condensed into a single moment.”
 
He closed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “It feels so real...” Hairclips that looked like Yuzu’s, the metallic taste of blood in the back of his throat. His stomach flipped again and he lifted his hands to his head, fisting his hair in his hands. There was no pain, and he desperately wished for it. He hissed, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t, I didn’t...” They were fine, his sisters were alive, these memories weren’t his.
 
He felt Zangetsu’s fingers prying his hands from his hair, his voice sounding weary in his head. “

King, they’re fine, relax.”

Ichigo’s grip slowly eased, dropping his hands. Zangetsu stood over him, between him and Harribel. His hollow looked down at him, eyes narrowed. “That’s not you, King. You didn’t hurt them.”
 
But he remembered, he remembered them dead, he remembered the bloodshed, his joy? Whose joy? His memories were blurring together. His voice was small. “How do you know?”
 
Zangetsu crouched beside him to get to eye level. “Look at me, King. Calm down.”
 
He looked passed him to Harribel. She looked back at him, brows drawn, silently observing. She’d asked him a question. He couldn’t remember the question. His eyes snapped back to Zangetsu, fear gripping his thoughts. “Whose blood is this?”
 
“

Calm down.

It isn’t theirs.”
 
He trusted Zangetsu not to lie to him, it eased the growing panic inside him. He killed someone, a hollow? When was that?
 
Zangetsu offered, “You killed the one that did that, he’s dead.”
 
Ichigo blinked, looking back at Harribel. That’s right, she asked about the adjuchas. “Akimasa,” he said.
 
She tilted her head in confusion, and Zangetsu clarified for him. “The fucker’s name. It was Akimasa.”
 
That’s right, Akimasa did those things, he didn’t kill children, he didn’t, that wasn’t him.
 
Zangetsu looked back at her, a threat in his voice. “He’s confused, this is pointless.”
 
Ichigo laughed, amused by how pathetic this must look from the outside. He defended. “Not

that

confused. I know who she is, I know where I am.”
 
Zangetsu looked back. “Not an accomplishment, King.”
 
Somewhere to his left, he heard Ossan speak. “She needs to know, there’s only so much we can do on our own.”
 
Harribel studied him so intently, he had to fight not to look away. She asked, “Does this happen every time you turn an adjuchas?”
 
Ichigo’s answer was resolute. “No.”
 
“He’s been like this for years,” Zangetsu added, “You already saw this with Szayel.”
 
“What you experienced with the adjuchas triggered this?”
 
Ichigo knew what she was getting at. He said, “You want to know if I’m a threat?” He didn’t have to think about his answer. “Sometimes.”
 
She said, “This is why you isolate yourself.” She filled in the blanks rather quickly, Ichigo wasn’t sure if she was observant, or he was just predictable. He didn’t like being the focus of attention, but he would be lying if he said the distraction was pulling him out of his own head and helping him to stay calm.
 
Ossan spoke up. “A decade of events happened for my wielder, and no one else. Sorting out which memories are true in this time, which matter, and which are merely nightmares, takes considerable effort.”
 
Zangetsu continued that thought. “Add the memories and desires of complete strangers, Alteza, and our own souls, and King has enough to sort out. Give him space, he’ll work through it.”
 
She questioned, “Are you sure that he can?”
 
Ichigo knew Zangetsu would react badly before he even moved. Ossan took a step forward, but Ichigo was closer. He caught Zangetsu’s by the wrist mid sonido and threw him down, twisting his arm. Ichigo pressed his knee down on his back, snapping, “

Settle

.”
 
Zangetsu jerked to free himself, claws raking the ground. “

Bitch

.”
 
Sometime between Zangetsu lunging and stopping him, Harribel had drawn her sword and pressed herself back against the wall. Her fear was justified, but he found her reaction speed to be just as impressive as her dedication to fight someone far stronger.
 
As angry as Ichigo was with his hollow, the hot flash of adrenaline helped clear his mind more than any conversation could. His claws dug into Zangetsu’s arm, hard enough to draw blood. He said, “Her question is valid, Zangetsu.”
 
“The fuck it is.”
 
Ichigo let out a long, slow breath, but didn’t let him up. His hollow reacted violently to accusations against his sanity, no matter how justified they might be. He looked up at Harribel. “I’m sorry.” He’d meant that apology to be over his hollow, but it was for so much more than that.
 
She lowered her sword a touch, taking a few wary steps closer. Zangetsu tensed, but Ichigo’s grip tightened in proportion to Zangetsu’s desire to draw blood.
 
She paused a couple feet away. “I think I understand now, White... All I can ask is that you keep me informed. I’ll help you, but you have to let me.” She looked down at Zangetsu. “You take offense, but it wasn’t intended. There’s more on your shoulders than I think any of us can expect you to carry.”
 
Zangetsu didn’t seem to care much for her reasoning, but Ichigo couldn’t hold it against her.
 
She continued, “I’ll keep this between us, but the others need to hear something. I’ll leave it up to you how to handle it.” She eyed Zangetsu, then sheathed her sword and crouched so she was at his level. “You are perplexing, White. You’re quite ruthless, but at the same time, you care too much. You aren’t use to being protected any more than the rest of us, but if you wish to protect, if that’s who you want to be, then make sure they know.”
 
Ichigo looked away. “Better said in theory.”
 
“You’re not as bad at it as you think.” She straightened, her gaze shifting to Ossan. She gave him a tilt of her head in regard, and turned to leave.
 
Ichigo waited until she was long gone before he let Zangetsu up, and by then they were both more at ease. He couldn’t define what he was feeling at that moment, but letting anyone besides his Zanpakutou see just how frayed his edges were was always going to be humiliating.
 
His circle of trust was growing far more quickly than he thought it would. Out of necessity, but that didn’t make it less true.
 
He’d taken a step forward with Aaroniero, but with this adjuchas, he felt he’d taken two steps back. He didn’t like being feared, he resolved to do something about it.
 
--- xxx ---

Tatsuki Arisawa

Living world

There were a lot of things Tatsuki could pride herself on. She could take a hit, she showed up to class on time, she got decent grades, and she wasn’t a half bad teacher. Having the capacity to calmly accept a green haired woman was offering to take her to what sounded like hell wasn't one of them. Ghosts were real: fine. Hollows were real: she’d deal. Her childhood friend was king of the monsters…
 
“Tatsuki?”
 
“Give me a minute,” she snapped. She instantly regretted her tone, but the woman didn’t seem to be offended, she merely waited in silence.
 
Tatsuki looked back at the dojo, worrying her lip. “Do I have to go right now?”
 
“I think it’s a standing invitation.”
 
Tatsuki looked back at her, eyes tracing her mask, the magenta markings under her eyes. She almost looked human, but then, so did Ichigo. She asked, “Can he really not come back?”
 
The woman seemed patient, but she kept shifting her weight, her eyes continually roaming, never settling. “He could...but a lot of arrancar are depending on him.”
 
“Arran...car?”
 
She cocked her head, as if surprised by how little she knew. “Arrancar are evolved hollows.” She said. Tatsuki realized she must not have looked convinced they were much different, because she continued. “We’re not all bad. You know Ichigo better than I do, you trust him, don’t you?”
 
Did she? She still remembered a whiney mama’s boy, the sullen outcast teenager. He was different, quieter, withdrawn, but the last time she’d seen him, there was still that vindictive selflessness she remembered. “I do.”
 
Tatsuki looked at the dojo again, crossing her arms. “I know you came a long way...Can you give me a week? There’s a competition coming up, I have to be sure they’re ready for it.”
 
The arrancar beamed. “Of course I can.” She patted a small courier bag that hung low in the opposite hip as her sword. “I’ll be coming and going to relay messages anyway, it’s no bother.”
 
Tatsuki’s brows raised. “He has you running errands? You seem, ah, above that.” She wasn’t sure if she was annoyed at Ichigo for squandering her potential or not. Her presence felt...big, like Ichigo, and Ishida.
 
Nel chuckled. “Don’t feel bad for me, I prefer things this way.” She turned to leave. “Stay safe.”
 
“Wait,” Tatsuki stopped her and asked, “What’s your name?”
 
She paused, “Nelliel, but you can call me Nel.”
 
Tatsuki decided on something. “It was nice to meet you, Nel-san.”
 
“Likewise.” The arrancar corrected her. “Just Nel is fine. I’ll see you soon.” She smiled again, and Tatsuki saw a fleeting resemblance to Kurosaki’s mother. It’s no wonder Ichigo liked her.
 
Nel lifted her hand in a lazy wave, and with a soft buzz of sound, she was gone, dust trailing in her wake.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Urahara Kisuke

Living world

The rubbings Nel had brought him were smudged and rudimentary, but as Kurosaki so bluntly put it: ‘it got the fucking job done.’ Now that he was seeing words that weren’t half remembered doodles, he was absolutely certain he knew what he was looking at. Translating it would be another problem, as for now he only had bits and pieces.
 
Kurosaki had asked if Urahara couldn’t just send a camera in his sloppy note, but with the natural barriers in place in each world, getting something as delicate as a reishi based camera in and out of it just wasn’t worth the resources or effort when paper worked just fine.
 
Already he was recognizing characters, an uncomfortable feeling twisting his stomach. During his time as taicho, he’d had complete access to the entirety of Soul Society’s records, and there were noticeable gaps if you knew where to look. Gaps or classified information; it seemed to Kisuke that something had been erased from history.
 
There wasn’t a working alphabet of the ancient language laid out in front of him. Nearly every word had its own unique character, it was impossible to translate without something to compare to, so it was lucky he had a good memory.
 
He also had Kurosaki at hand to answer any questions he had, as it seemed to be that his understanding of the language was instinctual rather than conscious. That was both a convenient and frustrating feature.
 
There was one drawing that seemed to resemble a Quincy, the bow was a good indicator, but for all he knew it was just a hunter.
 
The eradication of the Quincy wasn’t something he’d been present for, no one talked about it, it was the shame of Soul Society, as far as he could tell. He had his suspicions of Soul Society, especially once he’d learned of Aizen’s true goals. Remove the Soul King? For what purpose?
 
He was always questioning the world, and that there was no questioning the Soul King disturbed him. He simply was. No one saw him, or heard from him, most forgot he existed. Personally, he was beginning to have his doubts that he existed at all.
 
Soul Society was a corrupt world full of poverty and strife, he didn’t miss it, nor did he miss all the red tape every member of the Gotei 13 inextricably found themselves bound in.
 
If Soul Society and Hueco Mundo were two sides of the same coin, why were they so different? From how Kurosaki described it, it was a wasteland, but that wasn’t always the case. Soul Society didn’t seem to fare any better in that regard, Kisuke couldn’t help but feel he was overlooking something.
 
Kurosaki had found himself what appeared to be a God, two of them, yet where was the Soul King? He almost wished Aizen was alive so he could question him.
 
Yoruichi hopped up onto his shoulders, draping herself over his neck. Her fur tickled his jaw, her purr soft and rumbling in his ears. She was almost uncomfortably warm, but the company was appreciated. He was going to be at it for awhile.

--- xxx ---

Kurosaki Ichigo

Hueco Mundo

Ichigo sat cross-legged with a frameless square mirror propped before him, and a mirror behind him. His reflection cascaded back into an infinite hall until the imperfections in the glass swallowed it up in darkness. He frowned at it, for one, not very interested in his own reflection, and for another, this felt like a children’s game. “I feel stupid.”
 
Leaning on the wall behind him, Grimmjow grunted in agreement. “You

look

stupid. You’re sure this isn’t some elaborate prank?”
 
Nel frowned down at the note Kisuke had given her and shrugged. “He insisted this was how it needed to be done.”
 
Ichigo said, “Based on

rumors

.”
 
She frowned. “...Yes.”
 
Making an effort not to sigh, he asked, “Now I need to write the text in a circle around me?”
 
She consulted Kisuke’s note again, then looked up. “With the mirror in front of you

within

the circle, and the other mirror outside of it. That last bit was underlined a few times. Do you remember what it says? I can’t read this.”
 
“I remember.” He closed his eyes and focused on the words themselves, rather than what they looked like, willing la sangre to do as he wished. Getting it to consciously write words he only barely understood on an instinctual level was tricky.
 
He wasn’t sure he succeeded until he heard Grimmjow speak. “What’s it say?”
 
Ichigo opened his eyes, twisting around to see the circle of text he’d carved into the ground. The characters weren’t anything he consciously knew, but he could read them as easily as any hiragana, so long as he didn’t think too hard about what he was doing.

mglw'nafh fhthagn-ngah cf'ayak 'vulgtmm vugtlag'n

He thought about how to answer that, frowning. “Something like ‘yet living, it sleeps-waits?-and then moves, we beseech thee, answer.’” He knew the meaning, but his mind wouldn't supplement him with a real translation.

“King.”

I know.

He usually let Alteza’s ramblings fall to the wayside, but his attention was drawn to a difference in normalcy; the whispering was growing in volume and intensity. Alteza stirred, its attention slowly turning towards him in a way that made his stomach churn. It didn’t appear to approve of what he was doing.
 
Grimmjow griped, “You seem to have this covered, why am I here?”
 
“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen, if anything at all, and I’d rather have someone around.” For multiple reasons. Wherever Alteza was involved, it was a toss up if something would go wrong. He didn’t want anyone else involved, and if someone needed to try to snap him out of it, he’d rather they try sooner rather than later.
 
Nel said, “If this works, you should be able to speak with the soul of the previous host?”
 
“Something like that. I have questions I need answered…” Whispers, coiling like snakes, slithered closer. He avoided looking at his reflection, his ghostly doppelgangers too closely echoed the layers of whispers that clogged his mind. “Alteza doesn’t like this, try not to draw attention to yourself.”
 
Grimmjow asked, “What does that mean?”
 
“Don’t talk to it,” Ichigo warned, “don’t acknowledge it at all.”
 
Both of them were quiet, he knew they were afraid. Nel tried to shrug it off and Grimmjow pretended he couldn’t care less, but he knew. He wished he could reassure them, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could say. He wouldn’t lie to them, this was a gamble, as were most things those days
 
Closing his eyes again, Ichigo let out a slow, steadying breath. He started to whisper the mantra Kisuke had written for him. It was in the same strange letterforms, but he knew how to say them like he’d been born for it.
 
His voice carried the guttural syllables with ease, the harsh, echoing tones from his hollowfication making his voice sound rougher than it was. He repeated the words again and again. Each cycle through his mantra gained more and more of Alteza’s attention.
 
This was a feeling he recognized, although he hadn’t at the time. For weeks, Alteza had been preoccupied with die Königin, but once again, that endless abyss yawned before him. He had Alteza’s attention.
 
It didn’t move to stop him, it couldn’t, he realized. Not with the circle between them.
 
He heard the whispers range in pitch, growing in ferocity and volume, while still somehow remaining a whisper. A shiver went up his spine, his instincts bristling in fear.
 
The presence behind him wasn’t human, it never had been. There was no reiatsu, no life there, yet he could feel it

watching

him. Watching without eyes, it saw him. It looked at and through him, he wanted it to stop, he wanted to turn around, he needed to face the threat.
 
He started to chant faster, eager for this to end, his fingers tightening on his knees.

“Easy, King.”

“You are close.”

The encouragement reminded him he wasn’t alone. Alteza was huge, greater than he could understand, but he wasn’t facing it alone.
 
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, Kisuke’s warnings at the forefront of his mind.

Do not open your eyes until it’s quiet.

Do not turn around.

Do not leave the circle.

The whispers abruptly stopped, his voice carrying on for a second into it. The silence was so thick, for a moment, he doubted it was silence he was experiencing at all.
 
He slowly opened his eyes, fear trailing icy fingers up the nape of his neck when he saw the mirror no longer showed his reflection.
 
Within the mirror was the dusky silhouette of an arrancar. Deep shadows obscured the depths of the mirror, but sharp wolf eyes glowed back at him. His mask fragments appeared as a black, human-looking skull covering most of the left side of his face, the backdrop of his irises the color of a starless night. His hair was long and black, draping over his shoulders and obscuring what little he could see of him. The arrancar’s voice was unmistakeable. “Visored...I never thought I’d hear from you again.”
 
His eyes rolled to the side, looking behind him to the mirror he knew contained Alteza’s presence. “Creative. Your idea?”
 
“No.” Around the circle was darkness, Alteza hovering just beyond la barrera. How he could see at all was a mystery to Ichigo, he wasn’t so certain light could reach within the circle at all, yet he couldn’t doubt what he saw before him.
 
Ichigo asked, “What’s your name?”
 
“Wasting valuable time learning a dead man’s name?” He growled, “Fool.”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes and said, “It matters to me.”
 
The arrancar stared at him in unwavering silence, then blinked. “Mictlāntēcutli.”
 
Ichigo frowned. Figured the bastard had a complicated name.
 
The arrancar smiled, the manic stretch of his lips reminding Ichigo of Zangetsu. He said, “Bad with names though, aren’t you? Mictlān is fine.”
 
The way he said it made Ichigo wonder just how much the former host was aware of. He pushed the thought aside and said, “Tell me about Soul Society.”
 
Mictlān cocked his head, and Ichigo realized their conversation until that point wasn’t in Japanese, and it seemed there was no replacement word for “Soul Society” to translate. Ichigo broke it down. “The other world of souls, the one the shinigami call home.”
 
The arrancar’s eyes flashed in understanding of a singular word. “Ah,

shinigami

. Does it not strike you as the deepest hubristic folly to call oneself a

God

? You share your soul with one as I once did, you’ve felt true power.”
 
This wasn’t an argument Ichigo was willing to start. “I’m asking about Die Königin’s fall, about the Quincy, not the shinigami.”
 
Mictlān made a chiding sound and smiled. “One cannot speak about one without the other.”
 
“You know what I’m asking.”
 
Mictlān said, “The shinigami sold you on a pretty lie. Good intentions can’t right a wrong.”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes. “Stop being cryptic and tell me what happened.”
 
“How do you know I won’t lie?”
 
Ichigo had been over this with Ossan, he was no good at these types of games. Mictlān shouldn’t have access to his memories, or most of his conscious life, he would be guessing at the information he already knew. He admitted, “I don’t, but you’re the only one left to ask. You were there.”
 
“Things have changed. There was a time when the borders between worlds were thinner, when we weren’t segregated into our own little corners of the universe.” He lifted his hand to the mirror, resting on an invisible barrier. “Rey de las almas, you’ve heard of him?” His eyes narrowed in a grim smile. “You have.”
 
The arrancar leaned in, forehead pressed to the mirror. “Have you ever seen this

king

?” He left no room for an answer. “Of course not. There were those with power that wished to have more, to become Gods.”
 
Ichigo couldn’t help but think of Aizen, and from the way Mictlān’s smile widened, he knew he’d hidden his distaste poorly.
 
“You knew a shinigami that played at being a God. I sensed him, he fed a good many souls to Alteza without realizing what he was doing.” Mictlān said.
 
This was news to Ichigo, his brows furrowing. “How many?”
 
“Thousands.” Mictlān dug his claws into the barrier between them. “There must be balance, Alteza told you so, didn’t it? The shinigami have been hunting hollows mercilessly for centuries, they killed off nearly every living Quincy. This isn’t the way things were meant to be, they’re

meddling

.” He pressed his head against the barrier between them, features twisting in anger.
 
Ichigo realized just how genuinely affected the arrancar was, how maddening it must be to be a spectator as your world fell apart and you faded into the backdrop of madness. He wondered if one day he would ever find himself in his place. He truly hoped he wouldn’t. Maybe Alteza held Mictlān’s soul together as a medium for itself, or maybe it was because his body hadn’t truly died; he didn’t think his predecessor had the answers.
 
Mictlān said, “The shinigami told you the Quincy were permanently erasing hollow souls, didn’t they?” He made a disgusted sound, “No soul is ever destroyed, only changed.

Arrogant

.”
 
Ichigo’s heart sank, and he couldn’t help but think of his mother. “Then why did the genocide have to happen?”
 
Hatred flashed in his eyes, the same murderous darkness Ichigo had let erode his own heart. “Ask

them

, ask Adaliz, but know it was an evil steeped in lies and greed.”
 
“Shinigami are the balancers; That is, perhaps, the only thing they haven’t lied about. They are neither quincy, nor shinigami, they are suppose to be neutral. Even when I lived I saw it, I saw the consequences of their so called justice.” He looked away, formulating his thought, then looked back, his words a combination of spanish and whatever guttural language Alteza had imparted on them. “
K'yarnak
el mundo-
agl
de
orr'e
y.”
 
It took him a moment to understand he wanted him to describe the state of Soul Society. He’d tried not to think about it, not to mention he’d had plenty to deal with already, he didn’t also need to take on the economics of a whole world. Seeing the stark differences between Seireitei and the Rukongai had been startling. It just hadn’t seemed feasible he could do anything about it as a teenager when they wanted nothing to do with him in the first place.
 
Ichigo said, “The only place that isn’t in abject poverty and ruin is Seireitei. Only the nobles and those with reiatsu are allowed inside. What else could you want to know?”
 
He hummed thoughtfully, the sound little more than a growl. “So they built their inner sanctum after all. How long are the nights in Soul Society?”
 
Ichigo frowned at the question, it seemed irrelevant. “How long...?”
 
“Did you think there was always a night?”
 
Ichigo blinked. He worded it in a way that suggested a sunrise and sunset was unusual. He’d always assumed it was like the living world, he’d never paid much attention. “A few hours at least.”
 
“The nights are caused by the Soul King crippling die
Königin. Its very purpose is to sever the ties between the worlds. Even before I let Adaliz kill me, Hueco Mundo had seen better days. Too many young hollows without enough arrancar to balance the scales.”
 
Ichigo frowned and demanded, “Explain.”
 
“The hollows shinigami kill are reborn within Soul Society. You must know that much. Hollows killed by Quincy don't

disappear

, they become a part of Das Licht, just as Quincy killed by hollows become a part of la sangre.”
 
That stopped Ichigo’s thoughts short. So his own mother’s soul had been lost in the sea of Alteza’s memory? What happened to a soul killed by something

created

? Aizen made White, but White was still a hollow...he tried hard not to think about it, because there was very little to be done about it now.
 
Mictlān kept speaking, ether oblivious to or uncaring of Ichigo’s turmoil. “With shinigami suppressing both the light and the dark, the worlds are becoming unbalanced. There really is only one truth in this world, isn’t there, Ichigo? You can always count on the entropy of our worlds, if nothing else.“
 
Ichigo asked, “So who or what is the Soul King?”
 
“You could say that the Quincy genocide gave birth to it. To create a God of their own, they first needed to steal the power of a God. Just as that shinigami fed souls to Alteza’s heart, so did they feed souls to their false God. I don’t know where that abomination is or I would have destroyed it.”
 
Ichigo had yet to meet anyone dead who was so avidly religious, but it seemed Mictlān thought very highly of Alteza, despite being used and imprisoned by it. He asked, “Why did they do it?”
 
The arrancar let out a mocking bark of laughter. “Like most, they believed their cause is just. The Gotei 13 have made it their purpose to try to drive the Quincies to extinction, to eradicate hollows. If they built Seireitei, then their need to impart their own sense of justice has gone farther than I feared.”
 
He looked over Ichigo’s shoulder, eyes flashing with fear. Ichigo heard the squeak and snap of the glass behind him, like the settling ice. “Time’s up, visored. This won’t work again.”
 
Ichigo pitied him, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but fear his own future would be just as bleak. “Any parting words?”
 
Mictlān’s face fell, pressing closer to the barrier. “I hope Adaliz takes her vengeance. It pains me that I won’t be there to see it.”
 
The glass behind him crackled.
 
“Is that all that matters to you? Vengeance?”
 
A snap. A hiss stung his ears...whispers .
 
The arrancar smiled. “What mattered to me was her happiness.” He leaned back, a sudden schism in the glass distorting his smile into something macabre. “I don’t envy you, Ichigo.”
 
The glass before and behind him shattered, his bubble of silence simply gone. Darkness spilled into the circle and back into him, through him, swirling so tightly he couldn’t breathe. He fell back and gasped, ice spilling through his limbs. His muscles seized even though there was no pain, all he knew was that he should be feeling it, but Alteza prevented it.

MINE

He clamped down on his blut, not allowing it to fight against Alteza. The darkness slowly sank back into the ground, and he started to realize what he’d done. To speak with Mictlān, he’d forced Alteza out, so naturally, accepting him back in had to be awful. He had to wonder if that time limit was due to his own stamina, or the result of his ritual failing.
 
He laid there and breathed, trembling in exhaustion. He realized this ritual had either isolated him from his inner spirits, or put strain on their connection, since Zangetsu’s swearing abruptly became clear.

“-last goddamned time you take blind instructions from that asshole. That fucking hurt.”

You could feel that?

“Of fucking course I could.”

Ossan

?

“It was unpleasant.”

He thought that might have been an understatement. His eyes snapped to blue when Grimmjow appeared above him.
 
“You’re alive,” the Espada said.
 
Ichigo made an affirmative sound, too exhausted to speak.
 
Grimmjow asked, “What happened?”
 
He eyed the arrancar in annoyance, still gasping for breath.

Zangetsu

?
 
“

What

.”
 
His question was left unasked, Zangetsu knew what he wanted, he was being pointedly belligerent.
 
His hollow swore again, pulling on his reiryoku reserves to manifest. Ichigo closed his eyes, content to do nothing but exist for the moment, he wasn’t sure he could stand if he tried. He distantly tracked the conversation they had, which was more or less an outlining of events. Luckily Ossan and Zangetsu hadn’t been kicked from his mind, only pressed into the background. They knew what had happened, they heard everything, and Ichigo could hear Ossan relay to Zangetsu what to say.
 
Nel appeared over him and asked, “Are you okay?”
 
Zangetsu answered for him. “He’s tired.”
 
Grimmjow’s voice echoed from someplace out of sight. “Oy, Kurosaki, you know those whispers haven’t gone away?”
 
Zangetsu sounded surprised, “You can hear them too?”
 
“Damn right.”
 
Ichigo muttered, “M’not surprised.” He tried to sit up, and Nel reached out to help. La sangre rose up around him and she flinched back. He thought her skittish reaction was a good thing. “Keep your distance. I don’t think Alteza is done.” A full sentence was exhausting, he almost laid back down, but Zangetsu’s hand in the middle of his back pushed him forward.
 
Grimmjow asked, “What does that mean?”
 
His hollow crouched next to him and explained, “This circle kicked Alteza out, and when it broke, it all flooded back too quickly and his body is over strained.”
 
Zangetsu sat behind him, letting Ichigo lean against his back. He deflected and answered questions, too busy both being concerned and hiding his concern from Ichigo’s fraccion.
 
Ichigo leaned forward on his knees, sorting through what Mictlān had told him. He didn’t know who to believe anymore.
 
He’d heard pieces from Aizen, and assumed they were lies. What about Kisuke, or his father? Both had been captains; had they lied to him, or simply not known? If he could talk to Shinji, he would, he could think of no one else who had a bigger grudge against Soul Society.
 
He kept forcing it from his mind, but he needed to speak to Ishida. Ishida’s father would be better, but wrangling information out of him almost wasn't worth it.
 
He made a mental checklist of what he needed to do, and it was exhausting to even think about it. He still needed to speak with Thera about the adjuchas and deal with Tatsuki. If ever there was a time he needed to travel between worlds, this was it.
 
He pulled Zangetsu back into his soul and stood, albeit shakily. Nel and Grimmjow stopped talking, looking to him expectantly. It was strange to see proof that he had someone’s attention and loyalty. It was always humbling to be on the receiving end.
 
He said, “I’m about to ask too much of you.”
 
Grimmjow laughed. “If you didn’t, I think I’d be concerned.”

--- xxx ---
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero (deceased)

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck - former tres

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

Hueco Mundo

Thera stared at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, and it made him uneasy. The amount of attention she showed him was always unsettling. The rest of the arrancar he’d turned weren’t much better. They huddled at the far end of the room like bats, their eyes reflecting the light in a way that probably should have been eerie, but he just found it to be somewhat endearing.
 
There were a few arrancar he flat out loathed, but of the arrancar he’d turned, besides the one sonovabitch he’d killed, he was fond of them in their own ways. None of them were perfect, god no, but they were so very human in their flaws.
 
He sat on the floor to try to get them to relax, but he wasn’t sure if it was working. Harribel was right, they were torn between abject fear and a strange kind of worship. He didn’t like either.
 
It was only a few moments more before all the arrancar were rounded up, Loly included, because she was the one that started all this.
 
Thera came up to him, doubling over in a low bow. “Heika, all arrancar are present.”
 
He stood, nudging her shoulder. “You don’t need to be so formal.”
 
Her head jerked up, watching him with wide eyes. She blushed, then dipped in another bow, and stepped to the side. It was a work in progress he supposed.
 
Scanning the arrancar present, he counted around fifteen. A small enough number that they seemed somewhat close knit; even just a glance gave him some idea of the hierarchy they’d forged for themselves. Thera and Loly at the top, another five beneath them, and the rest followed in a loose ring, to one shy looking male in the back.
 
He didn’t need to speak very loud to be sure they could hear them, they barely even breathed. “None of you were called here because you’ve done wrong, quite the opposite; I’ve done wrong by you.” There was a ripple of nervous movement, all of them fearing the worst. He tried not to let those fears fester. “I killed Akimasa, you know this, but you don’t know why.”
 
He crossed the room to get a bit closer, noting how they tensed. He sat across from them on some rubble, surprise rippling through the group. He continued, “I’m not going to give you excuses, but I’ll try my best to explain.” He looked away, then back to the small group, his eyes never settling on one particular arrancar. “I didn’t give you all the entire truth.”
 
There was a noticeable uptick in reiatsu, more than one of them upset by this. He continued smoothly, as if he hadn’t noticed. “There is something of an unavoidable cost when I help you evolve to arrancar. I feel your heart, your soul. I know you, all of you.”
 
“Bullshit!” shouted a male at the front. One of the more alpha of the arrancar, that was clear. He couldn’t remember his name; names were so arbitrary.
 
Ichigo stood and crossed over to the grey-eyed arrancar. He had a nasty scar on his neck, Ichigo remembered this one as well as all of them. The arrancar shifted his weight, afraid, but he held his ground. Ichigo was proud of him for that.
 
He rested a claw on his chest, reaching for the darkness inside the arrancar. Ichigo leaned in, his voice barely a whisper, intended only for him. “You were almost devoured, your throat was in their jaws, you were afraid, but you won, you survived because you’re a liar. You hate liars, but you’re weak, you can’t rely on strength alone.” He drew his hand back. “I know you, I’ve seen your soul.”
 
The arrancar paled, but said nothing. A female at the back spoke up. “If that’s even true, what do you want?”
 
Ichigo sighed, taking a couple steps back. “This isn’t blackmail, I don’t need anything from any of you. Nothing has changed, you’re still under my protection.”
 
“But, you killed him...” one began to protest.
 
“There’s ugliness inside all of us, but for Akimasa, it was much more than that. I killed him because I hated what he was. I’m not above my prejudices and flaws, and I won’t lie and tell you it won’t happen again. All I can tell you is that by changing you, I accept you.”
 
Thera questioned, “You accept us?”
 
Ichigo answered, “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
 
Another arrancar near the back voiced their opinion. “How can you say you know us?”
 
Ichigo pointed to a hollow on his left. “Masochist.” He moved down the line. “Narcissist, hemophobic, heliophobic, you prefer to kill with your bare hands, you’re partially deaf, you devoured your only friend, you-”
 
“We get it!” blurted the next in the line of scrutiny. “We get it…”
 
He stopped, he wasn’t trying to put them on the spot, but this was pointless if they thought he was lying. Those he’d called out seemed shaken enough that no one else wanted to be next.
 
Ichigo was warring with the truth, he didn’t want to be seen as weak, but they needed to know. “I don’t like changing an adjuchas into an arrancar, I hate it,” he admitted. “

You

don’t like feeling it, what makes you think

I

want the burden of all your faults and fears? I deal with it not because I need you here, but because I want you here. I should have told you to begin with.”
 
Thera asked, “Why didn’t you?”
 
Now that the question was finally posed to him, he wasn’t sure he had an answer. “I don’t know. The feelings I get from you are hard to differentiate from my own. There’s a lot of shame, humiliation, fear; acknowledging it at all isn’t any easier than if you were facing it yourself. I’m not infallible.”
 
An arrancar in the back argued. “Hollows don’t have a heart.”
 
Ichigo huffed, gently disagreeing. “That’s bullshit, and you all know it. The very fact your mask is incomplete is proof you have a heart. Pretending otherwise is pointless.”
 
No one else had anything to add, they watched him expectantly. He said, “If I’ve seen your heart and you’re still alive, you have nothing to fear from me. I can’t say anything more to convince you, that’s just how it is.” He didn’t know what else to say, so he turned to leave.
 
“Is that it?”
 
He paused and looked back. “Were you expecting something else?”
 
Thera asked, “What did you see in Akimasa then, if you killed him on the spot?”
 
He was hoping no one would ask that. Even with the added benefit of time between then and now, thinking back on it made him sick. They were waiting for an answer, all of them, and he didn’t want to give it. He swallowed, his voice still less steady than he’d hoped it was. “I can stomach a lot, but a child killer isn’t one of them.”
 
The arrancar shared looks, and he couldn’t tell if they were judging him negatively or not. He added, “I don’t regret it, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to kill any of you without a damn good reason.”
 
He realized something, looking to Thera, then to the rest. They all made a point to avoid eye contact, out of fear or otherwise, he didn’t know. “I don’t want something like Aaroniero to happen again. I promised you had my protection, but if I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t do anything about it. There’s only one of me, I’m not omnipotent.”
 
The hollow with the scar on his neck growled, “Don’t act like you give a shit.”
 
“I’m not acting, what purpose would that serve?” He was blunt. “I’m stronger, I don’t need to manipulate you.”
 
The blatant reminder seemed to be salt in the wound for most arrancar, but it was the only truth they could all agree on. They shifted nervously, then Loly spoke up, looking bored with the one-sided conversation. “Can you prove your intentions?”
 
He admitted, “No more than I already have.”
 
She folded her arms. “There you all have it. This is a waste of time.”
 
An arrancar directly behind her objected. “Why are you even here?”
 
Loly moved, faster than the arrancar could block, but not faster than Ichigo could prevent. He intervened, catching Loly’s arm before she could make contact. Her eyes widened in genuine fear, even if he didn’t have punishment in mind.
 
The arrancar all took a step back from her in a wave, not willing to be caught in the middle. He thought she might have lashed out because of the insinuation she didn’t belong there, but he couldn’t be so sure.
 
He gave her a disappointed look, and let go. “As long as you aren’t killing each other, I don’t care what you do out of my sight.

In

my sight, I expect you all to control yourselves.”
 
Loly muttered, “Hypocrite.”

“The balls on this bitch. I don’t know why you let her get away with that shit.”

‘Look at her, she’s testing me, she’s shaking like a leaf. She wants me to hit her.’

Hell if he knew why.
 
All the arrancar took another wary step back, clearly expecting the worst.
 
Ichigo said, “That’s true.” His answer surprised more than just Loly. She’d been on the receiving end of his temper more than once, but this time he was burned out. “That’s why I expect you to hold me to account as much as I do you.”
 
The scarred arrancar asked, “How?”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “The same way you are now. Talk to me. If you aren’t hunting your own within Las Noches, there’s little you could do to get on my bad side.”
 
“S-she called you a hypocrite.” Ichigo didn’t see who said it, but their confusion was justified if they believed the rumors about him.
 
“She did. I’ve been called worse.” He turned around and they all took another step back. They parted around him like a school of fish around a shark, but they hadn’t fled, so it was a start.
 
Loly grit her teeth, then drew her sword, lunging for his back. He heard Thera shout in indignation from across the room. Ichigo didn’t even bother to dodge. Loly’s sword hit him across the shoulders, and he only sighed. She didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of cutting through his hierro, but that wasn’t why she’d done it. “If you’re trying to make me angry, this isn’t the way to do it.”
 
She screamed, drawing her sword back to strike him again. This time he caught it in his hand, feeling a flicker of real concern. He didn’t have time for every arrancar in Las Noches, but clearly he should have made time for Loly. He didn’t think she’d intended to have a meltdown with an audience, but for some reason she wanted his wrath and couldn’t get it.
 
She yanked on her sword hard enough he thought she might dislocate her arm. “

Loly

.”
 
He didn’t take his eyes from hers, trying to understand the source of her rage. He fundamentally understood all of these arrancar, but her, he thought he was beginning to understand why she was so angry. He ordered, “All of you are dismissed.”
 
They didn’t need to be told twice, the only one that hesitated was Thera, but he knew she would follow an order.
 
He waited until they were alone before he let go of her Zanpakuto. “Where’s Menoly?”
 
She snapped, “Don’t need her.”
 
The tone in her voice and the flicker of her reiatsu was worrying. He asked, “Loly, weeks ago, why did you come back, why did you follow my orders?”
 
She swung her sword for emphasis. “You expected me to run, I wanted you to

fail

!”
 
He wasn’t sure he understood, but Zangetsu did. “

King, she’s

jealous

.

”

‘Of who?’

“Think about what you just told them.”

Now he felt stupid. Clearly Loly had held him in higher regard than he thought, and he’d trampled on her feelings.
 
“Loly, I didn’t expect you to run.”
 
“Bullshit! Don’t pretend you care. I hoped they would see that you’re a fraud, that they would take was you were offering and go. I wanted them to leave you, but they stayed!””
 
Now he was on the same page, it was his fault for letting it get this bad. He took a step towards her and she lashed out, knowing full well how pointless it was. He raised his arm, stopping her sword short. “I’m sorry.”
 
“I don’t want your fucking apologies!” She hacked at him again, but he caught it, if only to reel her in. She could have let go, but she was stubborn.
 
He pulled her Zanpakuto to his chest and her along with it. She was close enough now that if he wanted, he could reach out and touch her. If she was truly afraid of him, he thought she would have let go of her sword by then. He said, “I was apologizing for how late this conversation is, I should have had this talk with you weeks ago.”
 
“What are you talking about?”
 
He didn’t answer, he gently steered the conversation back onto Loly. “Menoly didn’t come back, did she?”
 
Her eyes widened in shock, but it quickly devolved into anger. “So what?! I don’t need her!”
 
“You don’t have to need someone to want them to be there.”
 
Tears shone in her eyes and she bit her lip. “

Shut up

.”
 
He might not have known what sort of relationship the pair had, but he empathized with the pain of losing someone all too well. He shifted the subject towards himself to relieve some of the tension she was gathering. “I’ll admit it, I’m not the best king, am I?”
 
There was a wobble in her tone, but she still managed to sound condescending. “You’re pretty shit at it.”
 
“I wouldn’t say I’m all that inspiring. You convinced rogues and loners to come here with no true promise of safety. I don’t know how, but I’m grateful. I never told you, but I’m glad you stayed.”
 
“Liar,” she hissed.
 
“I may bend the truth, but I don’t often lie. I mean that. They might pretend you’re not one of them, but you are. You found them, you helped them.”
 
She bit her lip. “That isn’t why I did it.”
 
He kept his tone as calm as he could manage, he didn’t want to rile her up and more than she already was. “That’s fine, I don’t expect altruism.” His brows furrowed, slowly letting her sword go. She didn’t back up. “Don’t hurt them, they’ll only fear and resent you. I should know.”
 
“Shut up. I don’t want your pity.” If it’s one thing he could understand about Loly, it was her desire to hurt the things that hurt her. He wasn’t proud of that inclination, but he recognized it was there.
 
He asked a rhetorical question. “Does it sound like I’m pitying you? You’ve done well.”
 
Tears escaped despite her best efforts and she looked away, her sword tip scraping the ground in defeat. “She always came back before...I thought...I thought I might find her, but I think she’s gone.” Her lip curled in disgust. “She must

hate

me. I deserve that, don’t I?”
 
Now he understood why she stayed. Finding arrancar was a swift fix for loneliness, but Loly didn’t understand how to keep it at bay. “I don’t know what you deserve, Loly.”
 
She asked, “Can you find her?”
 
He didn’t know how much it cost her to ask that, but he knew asking for help didn’t come easy to any arrancar. “I’m not familiar with her reiatsu, I would have far less luck than you.”
 
She argued. “But I’ve seen you do things! Why can’t you just try?”
 
“I’m sorry, Loly, I can’t use it to find someone specific unless I know them well.” That was the truth. His sensing ability had never been very refined, but when it came down to using la sangre, it was about as subtle as a shotgun.
 
She sheathed her sword and turned to leave, but he caught her shoulder. He let her go when she shot him a hard look and he said, “Don’t punish yourself, and don’t punish everyone around you for your frustrations. If you want to hurt someone, come after me instead.”
 
She clenched her jaw and whirled, leaving with as much dignity as she could muster. That could have gone worse, but he was surprised he’d almost gotten a conversation out of her.
 
He left the opposite way, heading straight to Harribel. She was waiting nearby; both of them had decided it was for the best. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him to handle it, but if things went badly, she could intervene as well as any Espada.
 
He got within speaking distance and she pushed off from the wall to face him. She mused, “You’re right, you’re more agreeable once you’re rested and worn out.” A straight ten hours of sparring with Zangetsu had settled his nerves and exhausted him better than anything anyone else could have managed.
 
“I can’t take credit, it was Zangetsu’s idea.” He asked, “Do you think it helped?”
 
She asked, “You told them the truth?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“You didn’t lose your temper?”
 
“I stayed calm.” He could safely say that without stretching the truth. He felt a bit pathetic that he had such simple guidelines to work within, but he was the farthest thing from calm and patient, and Harribel could help him get there,
 
Her eyes narrowed in a smile. “Good, then it’s a start. Now go deal with your fraccion before he undoes all your work.”

--- xxx ---

Tatsuki Arisawa

Living world

The week crawled by, her mind wandering enough that she wondered why she didn’t just leave with Nel when she had the chance. She was distracted, anxiety knotting in her stomach and guaranteeing she would lie awake at night, desperate for sleep.
 
One more day. Why was she so nervous?
 
She’d seen Ichigo at a distance, dressed in all black, a sword on his back, but she hadn’t ever seen him like

that

, never as a...Calling him a monster didn’t feel right. A hollow…
 
It was so surreal to see him outside the window, the warm, amber eyes she remembered replaced with frigid yellow. To be able to see straight through his chest to the buildings behind was almost more shocking than his appearance.
 
She was so lost in her thoughts, she almost ran into someone. She muttered an apology and took a step to the side, but they mirrored her action, putting themselves directly in her path.
 
“There you are.”
 
She looked up then, brows drawn. Blonde...a foreigner? “Do I know you?” she asked.
 
He smiled, his mouth stretching into a toothy grin. It was kind of creepy. “We have a mutual friend.” She took a step back but he pressed on. “

Ichigo

.”
 
Her eyes widened, taking another step back. Anyone that knew Ichigo knew he was dead, or was involved with some dangerous shit.
 
She hadn’t been paying attention, but now that she focused, his presence was huge, he reminded her of that shopkeeper. What had Ichigo called him? Geta-boshi? “Are you a shinigami?”
 
It was his turn to be surprised. “Ah, so you

do

know what’s going on.”
 
She noticed he hadn’t answered the question. Why did Ichigo have to have such dangerous friends? She asked, “What do you want?”
 
“You know how to get in contact with Ichigo.”
 
Her brows scrunched together, choosing her words carefully. “You don’t know that.”
 
“You met with an arrancar.”
 
Her eyes widened, there was no way to guess that. “You’ve been following me?”
 
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so offended, the shinigami are keeping tabs on you too.”
 
She tilted her head. “What are

you

then?”
 
“The same as Ichigo. Visored.” She could only assume he meant he was also hollow-like, and it wasn’t reassuring.
 
He took a step closer, and she made the conscious decision to stay still. He pressured. “I need to talk to him.”
 
“Why? Whose side are you on?”
 
His smile faded. “My own. Where is he?”
 
As far as she knew, everyone knew where he was, so she saw no reason not to tell the truth. “Hueco Mundo.”
 
He didn’t seem too surprised by this, it seemed she had only confirmed what he already known. Maybe he’d been testing if she would lie.
 
He took a step closer, and she couldn’t help herself, she threw a punch. He leaned aside easily, brushing her attack aside with his wrist. His eyes widened a touch. “I see.”
 
Tatsuki jerked back, preparing to defend herself, but he didn’t move again. He tilted his head to the side, too far to be comfortable, and studied her more closely. “That’s some impressive reiatsu, for a human.”
 
“Rei..atsu?”
 
He made a thoughtful sound, but didn’t elaborate. “If you have a way to contact Ichigo, it would save me a lot of hassle.”
 
“If you really are friends with him, why don’t you talk to that other guy instead? The shopkeeper. Leave me out of it.”
 
He frowned. “It’s complicated.”
 
He hadn’t threatened her yet, so she gave in and made the decision to try to go around again. This worked, but the man simply followed her. He said, “Would it make a difference if I told you why?”
 
She almost said no, but that would just be pure belligerence. “Maybe,” she admitted.
 
“My inner hollow is restless. Things haven’t been this way in years, not until Kurosaki showed up.”
 
She glanced at him, brows furrowed. “You think it’s

his

fault?” That seemed like a stretch, she wasn’t sure if he was lying or not, and if he was, she wasn’t sure she would be able to spot it.
 
“Din’ say anything about fault, just sayin’ it’s strange, and it seems like he knows more than we do.”
 
Tatsuki wasn’t sure, but he sounded bitter about that. She admitted. “I’m not sure what you mean by restless.”
 
“Let’s just say it’s in everyone’s best interest that this be resolved.”
 
His tone made her uneasy, he spoke it like a threat. If he was like Ichigo...claws, black stripes, yellow eyes…
 
The blonde shoved his hands in his pockets, lifting his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “What’s the worst that could happen? Ichigo can take care of himself, I ain’t a threat to him.”
 
The creep had a point, it wasn’t like she had any business screening his calls, so to speak. If Ichigo didn’t want to talk to him, he didn’t have to. She grit her teeth. “Fine!

Fine

. He’s sending a messenger tomorrow, I don’t know when, but it’s not my fault if you miss them.”
 
He made an irritated sound, but broke away, heading down an alley. “Thanks. It’s Hirako, by the way.”
 
“I never asked!” she called after him.
 
He made another annoyed sound, then disappeared in that same eerie way Ichigo had.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Tatsuki had been more than wary to step into a garganta. Reishi seemed like a temperamental thing to stand on, and Nel’s insistence it was safe did little to quell her fears. The only thing that got her into it was the need to not look like a coward in front of glasses and the creep.
 
Once she was inside it, it could have been worse
 
It was more than a little disorienting to step out of the garganta into a deep expanse of night. With nothing but the bleached white sands around her, the light reflected the moon so much it was almost as bright as daylight. She turned in a circle, feeling incredibly small beneath such an open sky. She thought it would be more frightening, but all she felt was a small sense of home, and melancholy silence. She asked, “Where are all the stars?”
 
Nel followed her gaze upward, then pointedly looked away. “Don’t worry about it.” She lifted her hand to her ear, touching what Tatsuki could only assume was a communication device. “I have them.”
 
Tatsuki was expecting a wait, but only a few seconds passed before Ichigo stepped from a wall of darkness before them. Her heart caught, startled. She thought she would be use to these kind of surprises, but she never was.
 
Ichigo’s eyes snapped to the blonde first, surprised to see him. “Hirako?”
 
“You’re a hard man to get ahold of.”
 
Ichigo gestured randomly at the desert. “I’ve been occupied.”
 
“Clearly.”
 
Tatsuki noticed that even when he looked human, he was still just as different. He acted a bit like Nel; never relaxed, eyes roaming, yet too still, purposeful. He reminded her of some big cat, always ready, watching.
 
He looked at Ishida and said, “Give me a minute.”
 
He finally turned his attention towards her, apologetic. “This is long overdue.”
 
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she opting out of saying anything at all. He gestured for her to come with him so they could talk in a bit more privacy. Hirako immediately began to pester Ishida, and she found the banter helped make this feel more normal, grounded.
 
He stopped once they were out of earshot of everything but Ishida’s protests, looking her up and down. “Your hair got longer.”
 
She scoffed. “A little, look at

you

.”
 
He blinked, running his hand through his hair, It was long enough that he could see it before it fell away from his fingers. “I guess you’re right. Time keeps getting away from me.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t ask you to come here to talk about me.”
 
“You didn’t?”
 
He rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you think so highly of me.” He held out his hand to her palm up. “Can I have your hand?”
 
“What, are you into palm reading?”
 
He smiled. “No, just checking something.”
 
“My pulse?”
 
He snorted. “Smartass.”
 
She gave him her hand anyways, curious, and this version of Ichigo she was use to. It felt a bit strange to banter with him like nothing had changed, because it had. It felt almost like she was talking to her instructor, he talked to her like he was somehow responsible for her. Maybe she would have been annoyed over that once, but she didn’t feel he was being patronizing.
 
His thumb brushed over her inner wrist, settling on a vein. His brows drew together and he looked to her sharply. “No hollows have attacked you, have they?”
 
His concern was a bit infectious. “Recently...no. I think I’d remember that. Why?”
 
“You have a lot of reiatsu, hollows are drawn to that kind of thing.”
 
Tatsuki’s looked down in thought. “The creep mentioned that, reiatsu. What is that?”
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened. “Hirako noticed, when?”
 
“About a day ago. I tried to punch him, he touched my wrist.” She realized she trusted Ichigo just as much as she always had, she felt no need to guard her answers.
 
“You tried to punch him?” He chuckled. “Figures he would like you.”
 
“Gross.”
 
Ichigo laughed a little harder. “Hirako is weird, but his heart is in the right place.” He waved it off. “Regardless, you have a lot of reiatsu, but unlike me, you’re instinctively clamping down on it.”
 
She looked down at her hands with a frown. “I don’t feel any different.”
 
“You can see Neliel, and me, can’t you? If you didn’t at least have some reiatsu, you wouldn’t be able to. That’s proof enough.”
 
“So what do I do?”
 
He answered, “Whatever you want to do.” She looked up at him and he smiled. “If you don’t want to be a part of this, I understand. It’s why I wanted to talk to you. You got pulled in, but these aren’t your problems.”
 
She looked back at the group, thoughtful. Neliel was laughing, Ishida was trying to retrieve his glasses from Hirako, who was remarkably fast. Her lips turned up into a small smile. “I don’t think I really understand what it means to be involved, but you protect people, don’t you?”
 
She looked at him, and he admitted. “I try.”
 
That was just like him, to be annoyingly humble. She sighed. “If I can do something with this reiatsu...I think I want to.”
 
“Are you sure?”  He asked.
 
Was she? It wasn't like her to be wishy washy. She didn’t like relying on others for support. She steeled her will. “Yes.”
 
He seemed pleased by that answer, beyond that, he looked like he’d expected it. “Good. Remember, you asked for this.”
 
She was confused, about to question him, when an ocean of pressure fell on top of her. She struggled to stand, watching him with wide eyes. What was this?
 
He reached for his sword, slowly drawing it. Was it always so large? The look in his eyes was both expectant and...violent. He was serious.
 
He advanced and swung his sword, slower than she thought he could, but it was still fast enough that she had to struggle to dodge. She rolled out of the way and ran, but he blocked her path, suddenly before her.
 
Instead wasting energy stopping her momentum, she adjusted on the fly. She jumped and spun, kicking him in the neck. He caught her leg, but she kept twisting, kicking out with her other leg. He ducked, tossing her with strength she didn’t remember anyone having.
 
She caught herself in a crouch, already struggling to breathe. What was this pressure?
 
Ichigo readjusted his grip on his sword and moved again. She didn’t wait for him, she ran forward, trying her damndest to hit him. He dodged every punch and kick with a speed that just wasn’t human. She poured everything into those hits, and he dodged them with ease.

Asshole

.
 
She screamed, aiming right for his smug face, and he blocked it with his sword. “OW! Fucker!” She withdrew, moving faster than she thought she should be able to. The pressure didn’t seem so bad anymore, she thought she could move easier than before.
 
She dodged a side strike, stepping on the blade and using it as a springboard. She jumped higher than she thought she should have been able to and spun, trying to catch him in the neck. Instead of dodging, his blocked, raising his arm to stop her kick short.
 
A wave of power surged from her attack, sluicing from her skin and over him, the sand behind him disrupted for several yards. Her eyes widened, so surprised she fell to her ass before she could think to catch herself.
 
Ichigo laughed, stabbing his sword into the ground. He offered her a hand up, smiling wider than she thought she’d ever seen before. She accepted his hand up, energy still humming over her skin.
 
He hauled her to her feet, a crooked smile on his face. “Not bad for someone who didn’t even know what reiatsu was.”
 
She turned her hand over, the tingle slowly fading along with power she hadn’t noticed before. She had a faint blush on her cheeks, a bit embarrassed for falling on her ass, but Ichigo didn’t seem to notice.
 
He continued, ”When you get back, go to see Kisuke, tell him I sent you to Yoruichi.”
 
She asked, “Who’s Yoruichi?”
 
“Perfect for you. She can teach you, she’s hand to hand, like you. Your power seems similar to Chad’s, but she’s better suited for your style. I think you’ll like her.”
 
Her brows furrowed and she accused. “You knew that would happen.”
 
“Sort of. You were top ranked in the tournaments, weren’t you? You needed a challenge, and a regular human isn’t going to give you that anymore. If you’re serious about this, Yoruichi will help you.”
 
She frowned. “Doesn’t sound like she knows she’s going to be doing this.”
 
He smirked. “I’d be surprised if she turns you down. You’re her kind of girl.”
 
“What’s the supposed to mean?”
 
Ichigo smirked. “Cocky, violent, loud-” She tried to hit him again, and he only laughed.

Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Tatsuki wandered back over to Hirako and Nel. Hirako seemed a good deal more interested in her, and Neliel fawned over her in a way that reminded him of the way she’d once treated Rukia.
 
He beckoned Ishida over to where he stood, and gestured for him to sit. The quincy stubbornly refused. “

Please

sit, Ishida.”
 
Ishida shot him a defiant look and Ichigo frowned. He sat down cross-legged and gestured for him to sit again. He was correct in thinking Ishida’s manners wouldn’t let him turn it down. The Quincy sat, hands clenched on his knees.
 
Even in his own time, Ishida had barely liked him, but in this timeline it seemed the quincy saw him as something of a threat. Like all his friends, it seemed he couldn’t skirt by without hurting them. He’d very nearly killed Ishida, he was surprised he’d agreed to come at all.
 
Ishida asked, “Why ask me here?”
 
“Because I think you needed to hear this from me.”
 
“

You

?”
 
Ichigo tried to ignore the condescension in that tone. “Whether you like it or not, I have Quincy blood in me, now let me talk to you.” Ishida frowned, but didn’t argue. He had a feeling curiosity was winning out.
 
Ichigo didn’t want to believe the shinigami’s intentions were entirely malicious when they had wiped out the Quincy. He held on to the hope they were merely ignorant, but that didn’t he wasn’t prepared to accept the worst. He’d been lied to and let down too many times not to.
 
Ichigo started. “I heard this from the previous host, from an arrancar-”
 
“You believed what an

arrancar

had to say?”
 
“Let me finish.” Ishida narrowed his eyes, but thankfully stayed silent. “He fell in love with a Quincy, and he loved her so much, he let her kill him. For the last few centuries, she’s been gathering power so she can take her revenge. I wanted you to know who was telling me this, because it might sway your opinion.”
 
“How do you know he didn’t lie about that?”
 
If there was one thing he was certain about, it was Mictlān’s heart. He didn’t really want to go into detail, it wasn’t pleasant. “I felt it, it was real.”
 
Ishida let him continue, and he relayed everything Mictlān had told him. He’d wanted to tell someone sooner rather than later, he didn’t want to forget anything, and he thought Ishida deserved to know. From the look in Ishida’s eyes, he thought it was only out of the desire to know the entire story that kept him in place while he spoke.
 
When he finished, Ishida scowled at the sand between them, his grip white-knuckled.
 
The silence dragged on, but when he sucked in a breath to speak, Ishida rounded on him. “They wipe out the Quincy for no reason, declare you an enemy after fixing their problems, and you still do nothing. Why won’t you retaliate?”
 
Ichigo didn’t rise to meet his anger, for once in control of his own. “Ishida...you’re asking me to start a war.”
 
“And why shouldn’t you? Why should they be allowed to get away with it?”
 
Ichigo had asked himself these questions again and again. “Think about who you would be raising a weapon against. Rukia, Renji, Hanataro...they had nothing to do it, most shinigami didn’t, but they would be caught in the middle all the same.”
 
“So we do

nothing

?”
 
The venom in his tone was expected, but it was different to know Ishida would be upset, and another thing entirely to experience it. He looked away, recalling what Mictlān had said to him. Was it really his place to deny someone vengeance when he so readily took his own? He felt like such a hypocrite.
 
Ishida was at least hearing him out. He said, “I never said that, I’m only asking you to consider the consequences.” His eyes slid over to Nel, who was busy terrorizing Shinji. “Their lives are in my hands...I won’t send anyone to die without good reason.” He was tired of war. He liked to fight, but there was a difference between a good fight and a prolonged war with no goal. He didn’t want to watch his friends die again.

Ichigo continued, “The fact remains that if Mictlān is right and the balance has shifted, I might

have

to act, Alteza might not give me a choice. Even if I choose to sit on my hands and do nothing, eventually Adaliz will make her move, and I’ll be dragged into it whether I want to be or not.”
 
Ishida’s brows drew together, questioning, “Alteza might not give you a choice? Explain.”
 
“Alteza already cut off my connection to my living body. If I try to go against its desires, it’s in my soul, shutting me down is as easy as tightening its grip.” He tried to keep his tone even, but he couldn’t help but betray his disgust.
 
“So you’re this thing’s slave, and you’ll let the genocide of our people go unanswered unless you’re

forced

into action? What kind of justice is that?”
 
He knew Ishida was feeling spiteful out of hurt and powerlessness, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still sting.
 
Zangetsu had a lot of choice words for the Quincy, but Ichigo didn’t let him manifest, he hadn’t called Ishida here to fight with him. He was upset, but this wasn’t just his own life at risk, he did his best to keep his voice level, calm. “Ishida, I know I’m the last person that should preach peace, but this isn’t one man to kill, this is an entire society. I won’t drag down thousands of innocent people over it without a damn good reason.”
 
Ishida pushed up his glasses and looked away, jaw tight. “So that’s it then?”
 
Ichigo sighed. “For now,

yes

. I don’t know enough to make a decision, and I don’t think you do either. Please, don’t do anything rash.”
 
“I’m not yours to command,” Ishida snapped.
 
He had hoped things would have gone better between them, but he supposed they could have been worse. “I know, Ishida, I know, I’m only asking that you’re careful. Soul Society might be inept in certain areas, but they didn’t get where they are now by being weak.”
 
“You invaded twice already, and both times you suffered no casualties. You could take Seireitei if you wanted.”
 
Ichigo frowned. “Just because I

can

throw my power around doesn’t mean that I

should

. I won’t become another Aizen, I won’t become a conqueror.”
 
Ishida didn’t back down, he stood, restless, and gestured wildly around them. “Then what do you call

this

? What are you doing here if not to conquer?”
 
Ichigo let out a slow breath and stood, slipping into his hollow form with ease. He’d only shifted out of it for Tatsuki’s sake, but now that she was sufficiently reassured he wasn’t a monster, there was no reason to stifle his power. His hair lengthened, the hole in his heart widening. The burden of handling Alteza’s was lessened, and he found it easier to distance himself from his emotions.
 
Ishida faltered, taking a step back. It seemed he’d forgotten who he’d been talking to, but this was only a gentle reminder, not a threat. “The shinigami don’t want anything to do with me, you can barely acknowledge I’m part Quincy-”
 
“That’s not…”
 
“-and my reiatsu is too powerful to remain in the Living World for long, even if I wasn’t bound to Alteza. That’s my personal stake in it, but that’s not

why

I’m here, not anymore. I’m a king, not a warlord, I’m not going to act in my personal best interest, I’m acting in theirs. I won’t start a war unless I have no choice. I told you as a courtesy, and because you helped me when you had little reason to. You have my empathy, you do, but I won’t side with you, I’m sorry.”
 
He argued. “

Are you?

I don’t understand you. A hollow killed your own mother and you’re still defending them?”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, Ishida’s accusations twisting a long buried knife. He’d long since known Ishida disapproved of more than one aspect of his nature, but once the shinigami threw him on the front lines, the fact he was a shinigami hadn’t come up again, and Ishida had never been brave enough to breach the subject of his hollow. He reminded him. “I’m a visored, Ishida, I’m not so different. I’m only asking you to be patient.”
 
“It isn’t as if I have a choice.”
 
Ishida was bitter, he couldn’t blame him for that, and there was little he could do to help. He had to remind himself Ishida might be independent, but he was still young. He had no right to judge, but he could offer what little help he could. “I doubt you feel the same, but I still see you as a friend. I won’t start a war for you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t help you where I can.”
 
Ishida pushed his glasses up in habit and turned away, wrestling with his own morals. He’d said all he could, they both had, so he didn’t stop him.
 
That left Hirako.
 
He still wasn’t sure why he was here, but he couldn’t imagine he’d come all this way just to say hello.
 
He started in their direction, and Hirako was instantly on the defensive. He might look relaxed to an outsider, but he knew Hirako well enough to see he was on edge. His shoulders were tense, a wary look in his eyes. Ichigo wasn’t sure what warranted it; if it was who he was, his appearance, the note they left on, or all of the above, but Hirako looked ready for a fight.
 
Nel wandered off to join Tatsuki when he approached, clearly interested in helping her sort out her reiatsu now that she wasn’t babysitting Hirako.
 
Ichigo left the visored his space, asking, “Not that it’s bad to see you, but why are you here?”
 
The former captain looked away, then back. “It was a forceful request. I’m not too sure why I’m here myself.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened in realization. “Your

hollow

asked you to come here? Why?” He was under the impression the visoreds and their hollows operated under a different set of rules, in fact they hardly seemed to be able to communicate with them at all. Maybe he was wrong.
 
“I told you, didn’t I? I’m not sure. I just know he won’t shut the fuck up.”
 
Ichigo raised a brow. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you too, king.”

Ichigo asked, “This is probably a stupid question, but you didn’t try jinzen?”
 
“That is a stupid question,” Hirako said, “Of course I tried, Sakanade wouldn’t explain.”
 
That was interesting. Ichigo stepped a little closer, raising his hand. “Do you mind?”
 
Hirako stiffened. “Mind what?”
 
“If I try see what’s wrong. Unless you came here to sightsee?”
 
Hirako frowned at his hand. “And what could

you

do?”
 
Ichigo tilted his head, realizing Hirako was far more removed from the loop than he thought. “Ah, I see. I’ll explain briefly then.”
 
He twirled a hand, calling la sangre into his palm. It swirled and churned, dripping between his fingers. Hirako’s eyes widened, probably expecting Kido, but this was the farthest from it. “This is a bit of a metaphor, but bear with me. This is la sangre. It’s a part of all hollows, it’s why Hueco Mundo feels like home, it’s why all hollows are instinctively drawn here, regardless of where they’re born, or how far away they are. Don’t tell me that even as a visored, you never felt something was missing?”
 
From the look on Hirako’s face, he had, but he imagined that like himself, he’d smothered the feelings and deemed them to be irrelevant. Ichigo closed his hand, losing his grip on la sangre. “There’s a hollow in your soul, I should be able to pull that part of you forward.”
 
After a moment of internal debate, he relented. “Fine. Do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
 
Ichigo reached out for his chest, his fingertips cautiously making contact. Hirako was unusually agitated, he could feel it in his reiatsu, and he could only imagine it had something to do with his hollow. If he’d come all this way, and despite his better judgement was asking him for help, it must be worse than he was letting on.
 
He reached for the darkness he had come to expect in a hollow, and found Hirako wasn’t so different. He pulled on it, tugging it to the forefront of Hirako’s power, and the visored panicked.
 
Hirako sucked in a breath and stepped back into shunpo. With a ‘safe’ ten meters between them, he demanded, “What are you doing?”
 
Ichigo held up his hands defensively. “Easy, Hirako. You want me to help, you’re going to have to trust me a little.”
 
Hirako didn’t move, watching Ichigo carefully. Slowly, the visored edged closer. Ichigo thought it might have helped that he stayed very still.
 
Once he was close enough to touch, Ichigo warned, “I know it’s unpleasant, try not to fight it.”
 
“Can you at least tell me what the hell you’re doing?”
 
Ichigo tilted his head. “Calling your hollow.” He could see this didn’t sit well with Hirako, so he tried his best to reassure him. “If the problem is with your hollow, it stands to reason we should just ask him, doesn’t it?”
 
Hirako scowled, clearly annoyed that he was being talked down to, but it seemed to be the prodding he needed to reason himself into letting Ichigo continue.
 
Ichigo touched him again and began what he’d started, albeit much more slowly than before. He knew Hirako would feel like he wasn’t in control, like he was losing his battle with his hollow. He locked eyes with Hirako, the visored still struggling to trust him. He was reaching for an intrinsic part of his soul, it wasn’t normal, or comfortable.
 
He closed his eyes and focused, treating this the same way he went about helping an adjuchas evolve to an arrancar. He fed his own reiatsu to Hirako, and instead of forcing Hirako to hollowfy, he forced his hollow to manifest. Of all the things he could have done, this was the least intrusive.
 
He opened his eyes, watching over Hirako’s shoulder as his hollow gained form from his mask down, the pharaoh-like detail familiar to him from watching Shinji fight. He’d never seen or heard of Hirako’s inner hollow before, he wasn’t like Zangetsu, he looked completely different from Shinji. Long, wild, black hair spilled over a tanned, bare chest . He’d always wondered what the other’s inner hollows were like, he couldn't quite hide his fascination.
 
The hollow regarded him with cold, yellow eyes. He drawled,
“You’re the king.”
 
Hirako jumped back, drawing his Zanpakuto, but his hollow didn’t acknowledge him.
 
Ichigo could feel his pain through the thread of power he fed to the hollow. He got the distinct impression someone had tried to change him before. Kisuke? In his desire to undo what Aizen had done, he hadn’t finished what he’d started. Maybe he hadn’t been capable of finishing it? He knew Hirako had said his Zanpakuto’s name before, but he found his name through his heart. “Sakanade.”
 
The hollow spoke with the same echoing tones as Zangetsu, but his voice was deeper, smoother.
“You can make me whole.”
 
He felt the yearning need within the hollow, but that feeling was within all hollows. The hollow wasn’t wrong, that power came hand in hand with Alteza.

‘Zangetsu, how can he know that?’

His hollow didn’t immediately respond.

“Hard to say since I’m already a part of your soul, but have you noticed the way adjuchas flock to you? They must be drawn to

something

, right? It ain’t like they can feel your reiatsu.”

“Do you remember the way Aizen’s arrancar use to speak about him?”

‘You mean the way they damn near worshipped the ground he walked on? None of them could give me a real answer as to why they followed him in the first place.’

“Perhaps it was the Hogyoku, the heart? Aizen abused that inclination.”

“Motherfucker probably thought it was his charm.”

By this point, he had everyone’s full attention, not that that was surprising. There was suddenly a potentially hostile hollow in their midst, and it seemed Hirako’s inner hollow hadn’t made nice with him just yet.
 
He turned his attention back to Sakenade and answered honestly. “There’s only so much I can do. In the end, this is between you and Hirako, but I think you know that.”
 
Sakenade let out a warbling growl, his eyes landing on Hirako in burning frustration. Ichigo was starting to see the problem. From what he could recall, Hirako had a time limit of around 5 minutes. He was fighting Sakenade for power, and it was making them both all the weaker for it. He didn’t really want to be in the middle of this argument, but Sakanade was right, he could complete him. Doubtless both of them would have rather gone through soul suicide than turn to Aizen, but this chance wasn’t closed off to them anymore, there was hope.
 
Hirako shouted at his hollow. “Why did you have to go an’ involve him?”
 
Sakanade ignored him, he still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Ichigo.
“Fix me.”
 
Looking back at Hirako, Ichigo questioned, “Do you understand what he’s asking for?”
 
Hirako sounded exasperated. “How should I know?”
 
Ichigo shifted, wishing he didn’t have to witness this. It wasn’t pretty. Changing an adjuchas was one thing, but he knew from personal experience that this was painful. “Hirako, you must have noticed. Your inner hollow doesn’t have a hollow hole.” Hirako still looked confused, so he spelled it out for him. “Sakanade is asking you to give up your heart for power.”
 
Hirako looked to Sakanade. “Why?”
 
His hollow finally acknowledged the visored.
“We’re incomplete, a botched experiment. We can be better.”
 
Hirako argued, “Is this not bad enough?”
 
“It

is

bad.”
Sakanade turned and paced up to Hirako.
“You can still barely use my power at all, we’re at odds with one another, and it’s through no fault of your own. We’re incomplete.”
 
Hiraku’s eyes narrowed. “So what?”
 
No matter how quietly they spoke and how badly Ichigo tried to give them privacy, he could still feel the meaning through Sakanade.
 
Hirako’s Zanpakuto stopped just a foot from him, towering over his wielder. “Things will get worse before they get better, Shinji. This opportunity may not come again.”
 
Shinji’s expression softened, a conversation Ichigo was thankfully not privy to passing in less than a heartbeat. His eyes steeled with resolve, looking past his Zanpakuto to catch Ichigo’s eye. “Oy, do it.”
 
Ichigo couldn’t know the subtleties of Hirako and his Zanpakuto’s relationship, and he didn’t want to know, if they both agreed, he would do it in a heartbeat.
 
Sakanade turned to face him, kneeling not out of any sort of respect, but merely so Ichigo could reach him. Neither of them were fooled, no Zanpakuto bent to anyone outside of its wielder, and maybe not even then.
 
Ichigo reached for Sakanade’s mask, paused, and looked to Shinji. “Brace yourself.”
 
He wasn’t looking forward to this. He reached for his inner spirits, leaning on their support.

“We’re here, King.”

He closed his eyes, his hand resting on Sakanade’s mask. He knew exactly what he was looking for, it was only a moment before he’d sunk his fingers into their darkness. He found all the torn and frayed edges of their soul, all the pieces Kisuke had stagnated, and he let them corrode.
 
The change was immediate, the pain in their soul was echoed in his own, his grip on Sakanade’s mask tightening.
 
Sometime between starting that process and reaching for Hirako’s heart, both had started screaming. He wanted it to stop, their pain cut into his own soul like it was his own, but stopping would be cruel,

wrong

. He let go of Sakanade’s mask, letting him return to Hirako’s soul. He’d kept him manifested to try to lessen the burden, but now that was impossible, now they needed each other.
 
He pulled la sangre from the ground, squeezing his hands into fists. He pulled on Hirako’s heart, on all of his fears and rage and instinct. He snapped the thread that tied his power to Hirako, leaving Hirako and his Zanpakuto on his own. It was up to the visored if he could accept every aspect of himself, he couldn’t help him anymore.

He took a step back, la sangre roiling over and through Hirako. He remembered the first time he’d abandoned his heart, he couldn’t forget it, and he didn’t think Shinji would either.
 
Giving in to instinct had been terrible and intoxicating. What he’d felt in Hirako’s heart proved this was different for everyone. Personally, he only remembered the wrenching loneliness, the need for it all to stop.
 
Ishida spoke up from somewhere to his left. “Kurosaki?”
 
“Shhh.” His tone was gentle, if not a bit morose. These weren’t feeling’s he’d planned on dredging up, but nothing ever went as planned.
 
Moments passed, and he listened to the currents of Hirako’s heart, he felt the tempo of his reiatsu. He had hope he would survive this, Hirako was strong, he didn’t doubt that. They didn’t let just anyone become a captain.
 
Slowly, he felt Hirako’s reiatsu settle. He realized he was proud of the visored. His demons hadn’t eaten him, he came out on top, he was the master of his instincts. He let go of la sangre, that catalyst no longer needed.
 
Hirako didn’t look too different, but he caught the curve of a hollow hole in his chest. He sat up, blonde hair suddenly too long, spilling over his shoulders into his lap. He ran his fingers through it with a frown, then turned amber eyes to Ichigo. Like his own, his sclera were black, but there was no sign of his mask, he almost passed as a shinigami. Three, black. barred stripes ran beneath his eyes, a memory of his mask.
 
Ichigo held a hand down to him, and after a second’s hesitation, Shinji accepted. He bared his teeth with a hiss. “Holy hell, Kurosaki, do you feel like this all the time?”
 
Ichigo asked, “How do you feel?”
 
Hirako looked down at his hands “Numb…” He tightened them into fists. “

Violent

.”
 
Ichigo could empathize. “Yes. I’m sure you got use to something like this with the mask, but this is different, deeper. Be careful.”
 
“You saying that from experience?”
 
Only Shinji could hear him, the others were too far away, so he answered honestly. “The first time I fully hollowfied, I was being tortured. I broke my own arm to free myself, then ripped the arrancar apart with my bare hands, little by little. I liked it. Too much.”
 
Shinji didn’t look aghast or even judgemental, he knew he wouldn’t, he wasn’t that kind of person. He only dipped his head in understanding, a haunted look crossing his face. “I won’t forget that. Thank you, Kurosaki.”
 
He exhaled, closing his eyes, and let his hollowfication go. The markings on his face faded, his hair returning to its usual length. His breath caught in his throat, clearly not prepared for the rush of emotion. He blinked it away, waving a hand at the air. “Now send me home, it’s been a long, trying day.”

He smiled and obliged, opening a garganta just outside of Karakura. He finally turned his attention back to Ishida and Tatsuki. She looked a bit pale, but thoughtful, and Ishida’s expression was guarded.
 
Shinji stepped into the garganta, stumbling with a curse. Ichigo had no doubt he was exhausted, that first time burned through nearly all Shinji’s reiatsu. The visored offered Tatsuki a hand, who swiftly turned him down on account it looked like she could pull him onto his face with no effort at all.
 
Nel took up a place just beside him, not needing to escort the group back.
 
Ichigo stopped Ishida before he could pass him. “Has Orihime shown any interest in training?” From the sour look on Ishida’s face, that was a yes. He jerked his head in Shinji’s direction. “There’s someone in his group, Hacchi. His power is a lot like hers, he might be able to help. I told her I would introduce her personally, but it looks like I have to break that promise.”
 
Ishida frowned, his eyes slipping to Shinji. “You made him a full hollow.”
 
There was judgement in his voice if he’d ever heard it. Ichigo tried not to sigh. “I did. Sort of. Shinji was one of a handful of shinigami Aizen betrayed and forcefully turned. They were “failures”, they were going to die, but Kisuke used the Hogyoku to stop it. Now that the Hogyoku is a part of me, I could finish what he started. Do you think I should have denied him that, when I had the power to change it?”
 
Ichigo wasn’t quizzing Ishida, he was asking his honest opinion. The Quincy looked away, brows drawn tight. “No.”
 
Ichigo stepped aside, letting him pass. “I wish I’d had better news for you, Ishida.”
 
The Quincy looked at him, lingering at the edge of the garganta. He stepped through it, and rather than walk with Tatsuki, he slipped into hirenkyaku and was gone.

‘Ossan, I’m worried about him.’

“Worried he’ll do something stupid?”

‘Yes.’

“Ishida still struggles to see you as anything but an outsider, there isn’t much you can do about that, Ichigo, you did what you could.”

Nel put her hand on his shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”
 
He sighed. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go home.”

--- xxx ---
   
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Aaroniero (deceased)

6 - Szayelaporro

7 - Shawlong

8 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

9 - Yylfordt

10 - Edrad Liones
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck - former tres

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It happens at night

--- xxx ---
 
Uryuu Ishida

Living world

Ishida didn’t think he was being unreasonable when he declined to point a weapon at Inoue. She could raise an impressive shield, but if she put on a Kevlar vest he still wouldn’t point a gun at her. Maybe this made him weak, or a terrible friend that he couldn’t trust her, but she was the one ray of light in his life and he wasn’t about to put it at risk.
 
He wanted to help her train, but this simple fact made it almost impossible. He’d debating simply not relaying the information Kurosaki had given him about Hacchi, then decided that was petty. Who was he to filter the information she was given?
 
He’d gone with her to meet these visoreds, and they were just as weird as he’d expected. He’d come to equate shinigami with weird. Just when he thought one of them was normal, he was proven wrong.
 
They’d been surprisingly accommodating. He didn’t know exactly what it was Ichigo had done for Shinji, but it must have been good enough that they trusted Ichigo’s judgement. Almost unwaveringly. Like Ichigo, they seemed about as trusting as an alleycat, but they seemed willing enough to take his word at face value.
 
Because of this, he’d been relatively okay leaving her to go see them on her own. He could be a little over protective, but he knew that for all his faults, Ichigo would never send Orihime to someone dangerous. Dangerous to

her

anyway.
 
He stepped into the house and kicked the door closed with his heel, setting the groceries down on the counter. The house was still, dark, like usual. The answering machine light blinked, but he ignored it. He had a cell phone, his father had no reason to call the home phone.Sometimes he thought he called it just so he could see the proof that he’d ignored him.
 
Something in the bag he set down shifted, the plastic crinkling, at odds with the ringing in his ears. He turned around and left, not wanting to be in an empty house, not right then. He locked the door behind him and wandered aimlessly, the sun sinking low enough that the sky had darkened to a deep indigo. Streetlights flickered on, and his feet carried him farther and farther from home.
 
He passed by a baseball game, the floodlights from the field polluting the sky, the distant cheer of a crowd rising up from behind a stretch of houses.
 
It was a Saturday night, he thought he should be out with friends. That was almost funny. What friends? The only person he spoke to anymore was Orihime, it wasn’t like he’d ever been very sociable.
 
Weeks had passed since he’d spoken to Kurosaki, and he couldn’t shake the anger. Orihime asked him what happened, what was wrong, and he couldn’t tell her, his voice died in his throat. He didn’t want her to worry.
 
Outside Karakura, he walked a well known path to a path of woods he use to frequent. He stepped over the chain that warned the public the park was closed, and set off the trail into the underbrush. There was a game trail that led to a waterfall, and now that it was winter, the path was clear and easy to follow.
 
Dead plants crunched under the soles of his shoes, this breath clouding in front of his face as the night grew colder. He heard the roar of the waterfall before he saw it, the waxing moon just enough light to see by.
 
He stopped at the edge of the pool, his chest tight. They died for nothing.

Nothing

.
 
The pointlessness of it all was infuriating, but Kurosaki was right...what could he do on his own?
 
Nothing.
 
“‘Bout time you left town.”
 
He spun, clamping down on the urge to draw his bow on reflex. “What do you want?” His tone was icy, there was no one who would follow him this far with pure intentions.
 
The man had his hands stuffed into the pockets of a white jacket, a bright red mohawk fanning proudly from his head. He was about to write him off as a street punk when the man spoke again. “Place has been crawling with shinigami for months.”
 
Ishida’s eyes widened, his fingers twitching in the need for a weapon.
 
The stranger started to pull his hands from his pockets and Ishida tensed, sinking into a ready stance.
 
The man stopped. “Chill.” He slowly revealed empty, gloved hands. He held them up, his hands twitching in a pointed gesture. “See? Unarmed.”
 
If he could casually mention shinigami, that didn’t mean much. Ishida gathered reishi, more than willing to accept this man was a threat and an enemy. He formed his bow, but left it angled towards the ground. “So am I.”
 
The man’s mouth tilted into a grin. “That’s the spirit I like to see.”
 
Ishida repeated. “What do you want?”
 
“What

you

want.”
 
Ishida wasn’t in the mood for games. “Answer me!”
 
The strangers expression darkened. “I want the shinigami to rot for what they did.”
 
For what they did? There was only one kind of person who would talk about shinigami like that. His brows furrowed in distress. “You’re a Quincy? But…” The bastard had to be lying.

He was a liar.

That grin hadn’t faded from the stranger’s face, the fingers on his right hand glowing as he drew in reishi. The pale light cast dark shadows across his face, dancing wickedly in his eyes. He answered in German. “Ja, bin ich.”
 
There was no mistaking that kind of reiatsu, the casual ability to draw in reishi. Ishida’s concentration faltered, his eyes wide in shock. “But that’s-”
 
“Impossible?” His grin only grew. “Did you really think those rats killed all of us?”
 
Ishida’s reiatsu spiked, his bow’s shape warping at the sudden surge. The man took a small step closer. “Easy. There’s a whole lot of shinigami in this town and I went to a lot of trouble to see that we wouldn’t be interrupted.”
 
Clamping down on his reiatsu so he couldn’t be traced, Ishida raised his bow, still uncertain if this man was a threat. Kurosaki had warned him about them, but he hadn’t actually believed him. How could he? He’d been led to believe all the Quincy were dead. It was hard enough to accept Kurosaki was gemischt, but to see the proof standing before him...
 
“Ishida, isn’t it? I’m Bazz-B. There, now we ain’t strangers.” If he was bothered by the metaphorical loaded gun Ishida had leveled at his heart, he didn’t show it.
 
Ishida asked again. “How?”
 
Bazz made a disgusted sound. “How are we alive? You’ve seen how fuckin’ incompetent they are. They lay claim to everything: plus souls, the afterlife, eradicating hollows; and they fail miserably at

all

of it.”
 
He started to raise his voice, working himself up, and dropped his hands to stalk into the light cast by Ishida’s bow. “You went to Geisterwelt, didn’t you? You saw it. Their

perfect

white streets, their

glittering

rooftops, and what about everyone else? They lock them outside the safety of their walls to die in the mud, to be preyed on by hollows.”
 
Ishida’s aim wavered, the tip of a reishi arrow pointed off into the woods past Bazz-B’s shoulder. He said, “You intend to do something about that? No one is so altruistic.”
 
“I didn’t come all this way and go through all this trouble for no reason. Die Konigin is as strong as she’s ever been, we can

crush

the Soul King, we can have our vengeance.” He squeezed his hand into a fist, the leather creaking in protest. “The Sternritter are extending an invitation. Will you join us?”
 
Ishida swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. This was the opportunity he’d wanted, wasn't it? Kurosaki must have warned him about these people for a reason...he didn’t know what to think. “Do I need to decide now?”
 
Bazz smiled like Ishida had just agreed, reaching into his pocket to remove something small and metallic. He tossed it at him and Ishida let his grip on his bow falter and fade. He snapped his hand up and caught it, surprised by the weight of it. It fit in his palm, a sharp, five pointed pinwheel made of something white, nearly luminescent. He turned it over in his hand while Bazz explained, “When we need you, we’ll come to you. Hang on to that.”
 
Ishida tightened his grip, the edges cutting into his palm. He smoothed his thumb over the smooth plane of a savage looking prong, feeling the hum of energy, but he was unsure what kind. He asked, “What is this?”
 
“An invitation to join the ranks of the Sternritter.” He spoke, and this time there was a gravity to his words. “We’ve been watching you, and we approve.”
 
His words fell like a double edged sword. It was both a compliment and a threat. Ishida asked, “If you’ve been watching, then you know my relationship with Kurosaki.”
 
Bazz chuckled, but it was far from innocent humor. “Of course. El
corazón
de Alteza is no stranger to
der Königin.
 
Ishida asked, “How can I contact you?”
 
“You don’t.” He took a sharp step back, then spun on his heel and left, shoving his hands in his pockets.
 
“That’s it?”
 
“Be seein’ you, Ishida.” He disappeared in a blur, his hirenkyaku too quick to track. Ishida stared at the place he’d just been standing with wide eyes, then looked back down at the crest. He could abandon it, leave it here and forget about it.
 
He scanned the trees, his breath puffing in front of his face. They were watching...when, for how long? He was usually better at sensing reiatsu, yet he’d barely sensed Bazz at all. These Sternritter were dangerous, but he’d known as much from Ichigo.
 
He ran his thumb over the medallion, the surface damp from the heat of his palm.
 
Ishida abruptly left, his eyes lingering on the shadows in paranoia. He put his hands in his pockets, trying to think with his head and not his heart, but it was difficult. Of all the things he’d ever prided himself on, it was his ability to remain level-headed. That wasn’t working much anymore, he was too invested, involved.
 
Kurosaki, by pure virtue of having Quincy blood, was a distant relative. He’d fought not to be consumed by the foolish hope they might ever be...family. The concept of it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. For better or for worse, his father was distant, nearly nonexistent. The only person he’d ever been close to was dead and gone, and he’d seen the afterlife. There was nothing waiting for him there.
 
No, he was being dramatic. For some reason, Inoue was there, she didn’t let him put up walls to lock her out, and when he tried, she knocked them down with as little as a smile.
 
Even Kurosaki, in his strange way, cared. He’d been nothing but abrasive and resistant, and still, somehow, he hadn’t completely pushed the visored away.
 
He found himself in the lobby of the hospital, blinking at the elevator. He watched people come and go, and he felt like a coward. A coward for being there, for not having the courage to continue.
 
Move.

MOVE

.
 
He stepped in and pressed the button, the doors shuttering closed and trapping him with his decision. He watched the numbers with growing apprehension, stepping out onto the floor. Most of the lights were out, the receptionist had long since gone home, he could hear the whirring of vacuum some distance down the hall.
 
His father would have sensed him by now, there was no point turning back. He paced down the hall, his footsteps padded by thick carpet. He thought about knocking, then in a last act of defiance, he just barged in. His father leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “I was wondering how long you were going to stand there.”
 
Ishida felt his stomach hollow out in shame, but not for the jab. He crossed the office, taking his hand from his jacket, and dropped the white medallion on the desk without a single word. It hit the wood with a thud, too heavy to bounce, and scratched the perfect polished surface.
 
Ryūken’s eyes widened, looking from Ishida, to the medallion on his desk. He stood, slowly, his tone guarded. “Who gave you this?”
 
“A Sternritter who called himself Bazz-B.”
 
His father made a disapproving sound. “Bazzard Black.” He took off his glasses, dropping them on the desktop with a carelessness Ishida had never seen from him before. He rubbed his eyes, staring down at the medallion in grief. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? “
 
Ishida took it as a rhetorical question. He wasn’t sure why he was here. Help, advice?  
 
“You’re involved with Masaki’s boy, aren’t you?” The look on Ishida’s face confirmed what he already knew. “He’s treading dangerous waters, and so are you.” He grabbed his glasses and his coat from the back of his chair. “Forget the dead, concern yourself with the living.”
 
Ishida picked it up and pocketed it again, asking, “Why me?”
 
Ryūken shrugged into his coat, replacing his glasses and heading for the door. “Because you’re young, powerful.”
 
Ishida followed him from the room, watching his father lock his office and wrap a scarf around his neck. He couldn’t help but notice the Quincy cross embroidered near the end. He asked, “Why didn’t they approach you?”
 
Ryūken headed to the elevator and pressed the button, his voice guarded. “Because they took my wife away from me.” He added, “Your mother.”
 
Ishida stared at him, his blood running cold. The elevator pinged and the doors opened, Ryūken stepping inside. He held his arm in front of the sensor and waited for him. His father watched without weighing and judging his actions, for once. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
 
He asked, “Is that something you tell a child?”
 
“I’m not a child anymore!”
 
Ryūken let out a sigh. “No, you’re not,” he agreed. He stepped out of the elevator and back into the hallway. The doors slid shut, leaving them in relative darkness. “Which is why I’m giving you all the tools you need to make this decision on your own.”
 
His father looked away, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Ishida was struck by how similar the mannerism was. Despite all his best efforts, he was still so much like him.
 
Ryūken said, “The Quincy aren’t the just paladins Sōken preached to you. He would have preferred you live with colorful stories and the code of honor the Quincy have all but abandoned. Stories are for children, and you’re no longer a child; the Quincy are not faultless, but neither are they without their victims. I was once taken by stories of grandeur and honor, but my loyalty bought me nothing but a broken heart.”
 
His father pushed the button for the elevator again and said, “The Sternritter’s true purpose is war, it always has been. I won’t tell you what to do, but I will tell you that the Sternritter have no need for a Quincy with fickle resolve. Whatever you choose, there will be no going back without a cost.”
 
“Is that a warning?”
 
Ryūken stepped into the elevator again, and this time, Ishida joined him. He replied, “Advice.”
 
The floors seemed to pass by too quickly, the moment slipping through his fingers.
 
9
 
8
 
7
 
Ishida asked, “Why did…” His throat tightened and he couldn’t speak the words. Why did his mother have to die? What had she done?
 
5
 
4
 
Ryūken’s voice was flat. “Because she was expendable.”
 
Ishida swallowed thickly, his hands tight around the medallion in his palm, now almost too hot against his skin. The doors pinged happily and shuffled apart. His father walked away, leaving him standing in the lobby alone.
 
He felt lost.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

Hueco Mundo

It had been weeks since Ichigo had sensed Ulquiorra’s reiatsu, maybe months, so when it flared in resurreccion, he was notably concerned. The Espada wouldn’t take it upon himself to spar or help his fellow arrancar for anything, and even if he did, given his inclination to kill, Ichigo wouldn’t have trusted him to anyway. This wasn’t just resurreccion, it was the intent to kill.
 
He stepped into and through la sangre, and wasn’t surprised to see the antagonizer was Grimmjow. The two had always butt heads, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Grimmjow had passion, Ulquiorra was a nihilist, and neither understood the other.
 
What did surprise him was that Grimmjow’s reiatsu was hovering at a level close to passive.
 
Both noted his presence, but neither looked in his direction. After a long, tense moment, Ichigo asked, “Is one of you going to tell me what’s going on?”
 
Ulquiorra answered smoothly. “This doesn’t concern you.”
 
“You’re within Las Noches,“ Ichigo answered stiffly. “

It concerns me.

” He didn’t intend to fight Grimmjow’s battles for him, but for reasons he couldn’t determine, his fraccion seemed hellbent on pacifism. That was more concerning than Ulquiorra releasing his sword, even if it was to prove some kind of point.
 
“

Grimmjow

.” It was a silent demand for an answer, and while Grimmjow might dig in his heels and resist authority, he’d earned at least enough respect from the Espada that he could count on him to obey an order.
 
Grimmjow curled his lip in distaste. “He doesn’t understand

anything

.” That wasn’t helpful at all, but thankfully Grimmjow wasn’t done. His voice was low with what could have been pity. “He thinks he’s different, better, because he doesn’t understand a heart.”
 
Ulquiorra’s eyes narrowed. “We’re hollows, we don’t have a heart.”
 
“Stupid fucker. You have your segunda etapa and you

still

don’t understand.”
 
Ulquiorra began to gather reiatsu to retaliate, and Ichigo had had enough. He stepped between them, grasping the Ulquiorra’s forearm. Ichigo asked, “Itching for a fight? You’ll fight me.” Ulquiorra might be soft spoken and generally well mannered for an arrancar, but he had the same instincts as the rest, and he was a more violent creature than he seemed to be.
 
He let go of Ulquiorra’s sword arm and took a step to the side. It wasn’t a request, he expected Ulquiorra to follow. The Espada gave Grimmjow one last look, then followed after Ichigo when he stepped into sonido.
 
Ichigo brought Ulquiorra far away from Las Noches, both for privacy and as a buffer. He stopped and drew his khyber sword, and the Espada watched in curiosity. Ichigo explained, “You’re the only one besides Starrk I haven’t fought.”
 
Ulquiorra hadn’t raised his sword. “You’re more powerful, what’s the point?”
 
“Humor me, Ulquiorra.”
 
The Espada looked down at his sword, then back towards Las Noches. “You protected Grimmjow. He said that you would. Why?”
 
Ichigo asked a rhetorical question. “I’m king of you, should I just let you kill each other?”
 
Ulquiorra said, “Aizen did not interfere. He punished the transgressors, but he would never defend a weak arrancar.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not Aizen. I could go on and explain why it’s practical, but the easiest answer is that I’d prefer no one have to die. Including you.”
 
“You wish me to live, yet you have the capacity to kill me. Like Grimmjow, you have a lust for battle. This I cannot understand.”
 
Ichigo shifted into a lazy stance. “Fight with me.”
 
“Why?” Ulquiorra asked again.
 
“You might not understand me, but I would like to understand you.”
 
If Ulquiorra even cared what he was asking, Ichigo couldn’t be sure, but he lowered into a stance anyway and prepared for a fight.
 
Stepped into sonido, Ichigo moved at a speed he hoped Ulquiorra could keep up with. The Espada shifted and parried his attack with the ringing of steel, but only just.
 
Ichigo pressured Ulquiorra’s defenses, hitting him hard and fast enough that he knew he would need to lean on his instincts. He didn’t want this to escalate into using energy attacks, they weren’t actually trying to kill each other for one, and for another, it lacked the intimacy of a duel.
 
Ichigo circled Ulquiorra, the hum of his heart in his sword reflecting what he’d already feared. It was a quiet thing, but one he remembered from a past no one else knew.
 
He stopped, sheathing his sword, and paced up to the Espada. Ulquiorra lowered his sword and watched passively, but his eyes widened a fraction when Ichigo raised his hand to touch.
 
Ulquiorra took a step back, and Ichigo paused. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want a closer look.” He reached out again, and this time Ulquiorra stayed still. Ichigo’s fingers brushed his collarbone, his palm hovering over his hollow hole.
 
He tugged on la sangre, gently enough Ulquiorra wouldn’t feel it, and found that as far as the foundations of his soul, he was a lot like Grimmjow. Given they both had achieved their segunda etapa, that wasn’t anything new.
 
Ichigo let his awareness sink deeper, into the darkness that fought for life and dominance among hundreds of souls and made him unique. For a time, he felt nothing, but he knew he had a heart, he’d felt it. He reached deeper still. He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes focusing back on Ulquiorra’s.
 
To try to cut his own heart out, what must that have been like? Why would he do something like that?

“Why indeed.”

He felt a familiar guilt clench inside him at the reminder; he did the same every time he let his hollow form push away his heart. The pain never left, but everything was blessedly muted, numb.  
 
Ichigo said, “Like Starrk, you’ve done a lot of damage to your own soul.”

“Damage?”
 
Ichigo’s brows drew together in empathy. “You’ve tried to smother your own heart.”
 
Ulquiorra argued, “If I cannot see it, then it doesn’t exist.”
 
Ichigo didn’t take his eyes from Ulquiorra’s. He let his hand press closer, his claws digging into pale skin, and he did something he wasn’t entirely proud of. He wrapped his control around the shadow of his soul, reaching not for something physical, not in the way he might imagine a heart. He’d come to realize hollows were complicated creatures, no more or less than any other living thing.
 
Ichigo held his heart in his grasp, weak and fluttering, and squeezed it within la sangre.
 
Ulquiorra stiffened and fell to his knees, gasping. He reached for his chest, but didn’t touch, confusion and pain shadowing his expression. Ichigo hadn’t wanted to hurt him, not once he’d given his trust, but there was only one way to overcome denial so strong.
 
Once Ulquiorra had caught his breath, he demanded, “What did you do?”
 
Ichigo sank to his knees in front of him, preferring not to loom over him. Ulquiorra was angry because he was vulnerable, and he wouldn’t abuse that any more than he already had. “I showed you that you can still feel pain. It’s been a long time since you felt anything like that, hasn’t it?”
 
Ulquiorra demanded, “Why would I willingly subject myself to pain?”
 
He could understand now why Grimmjow hadn’t drawn his sword against him. He’d pitied the other Espada. He said, “Pain lets us know where we’re vulnerable, so we can protect ourselves. It lets us know we’re alive.”
 
“If having a heart means to suffer, than why would a hollow desire such a thing?”
 
Ichigo thought about that, considering his words carefully before he spoke. “Because to have a heart is to feel more than just pain. Pain is just the price to pay.” He paused, and decided there was no harm in revealing his own thoughts and fears. “I think I understand.”
 
“Do you?”
 
Ulquiorra wasn’t challenging his claim, his question was genuine. He pushed his hollowfication away, his hollow hole filling as the markings that slashed his skin faded away.
 
“

King, what are you doing?

”
 
Ulquiorra stared at him with wide eyes, his gaze lingering on his chest, like he could see straight through flesh and bone to his heart.

‘He might be hard to read, but what you see is what you get, he won’t use this against me.’

“How can you know that?”

‘I think it’s worth the risk.’

Ichigo said, “I might gain power for it, and a half decent disguise, but I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I didn’t like that it numbs the pain.”
 
Green eyes flicked up to amber. “What causes you pain?”
 
“Loss, guilt...unpleasant things. To bury your own heart away, you must have once felt something.” Ulquiorra’s hand snapped out, and Ichigo made the conscious decision to remain still. His hand clenched tight around his throat and his instincts rebelled. Ichigo resisted the urge to fight back, he knew the Espada couldn’t hurt him, even outside of hollowfication, but it was still unpleasant. There was the flicker of a memory, of Aizen’s fingers crushing his throat.
 
He felt Ulquiorra’s fingers press into his skin, but it wasn’t nearly enough to crush his hierro. He forced his panic aside, finding it to be unhelpful. He asked calmly, “Why do you want to kill me?”
 
“You see it too, how pointless it all is, but you

keep going

, and you drag us all along with you. You should have killed us all. You confuse me, visored.”
 
Ichigo reached up for his wrist, but didn’t push him away. He asked again, “Why do you want to kill me?”
 
Ulquiorra squeezed harder, “I need to know if your death matters.”
 
Ichigo had left a whisper of control in the Espada’s heart, and with that flutter of emotion, he suddenly understood. Maybe it was his own heart that led him to empathize, or his recent stint in the hearts of some very troubled arrancar, but Ulquiorra’s words made sense.
 
Zangetsu traced his analysis and commented, “

That’s pretty fucked, King. Just put the bastard out of his misery.”

‘Was that a vote for suicide? We’re not much better.’

Ichigo said, “You want to kill me because you want to feel something. You want to to take away the things that have gathered your attention; destroy them.”
 
Ichigo pulled at a tangled thread in his heart, trying to loosen the knot. It was just one nudge too far. Ulquiorra threw himself forward, flattening Ichigo’s back to the sand. Ulquiorra’s pupils narrowed, and his hands trembled in exertion. The Espada knew how pointless this was, but it seemed he couldn’t help but try. If he pushed any harder, he might try to hit him with a cero.
 
Tearing apart the wall the Espada had built wasn’t smart, but he could weather it down a bit at a time. He pushed Ulquiorra’s hands away from his throat, his limit for tolerating contact just about null. He sat up, and his his grip on Ulquiorra’s wrists kept him almost uncomfortably close. His voice was soft, but dangerous. “If you insist on harming yourself like this, I’ll ask you not to include my fraccion, or any other arrancar.”

“The homicidal fuck wants to kill you and you classify that as self-harm? He’s a risk, kill him.”

‘I can’t.’

Ichigo let him go and stood, the Espada watching him with the wide eyes of a watchful predator. His expression betrayed nothing, but Ichigo could still feel his heart. Ichigo had sunk so far into his soul, pulling away was a delicate thing. “Test the barrier around your heart in any way you wish, but do so on

me

.”
 
He offered the Espada a hand, and Ulquiorra stared at it, uncomprehending. The Espada asked, “Is that not a touch narcissistic?”
 
Ichigo answered, “It’s practical. No one else will survive your experimenting.” Not to mention the Espada’s obsession with him seemed to carry over into this timeline as well.
 
Ulquiorra lifted his hand, but hesitated. Ichigo skipped the indecision and made the choice for him, grasping him by the forearm and hauling the arrancar to his feet. Ulquiorra asked, “What is the point of that?”
 
Figured the arrancar wouldn’t understand something even as simple as that. “Think about it.” He slipped back into his hollow form, the pain lifted from his shoulders.
 
Ulquiorra said, “The irony is not lost on me.”
 
Ulquiorra desperately wanted to understand a heart, and Ichigo desperately ran from his. “I imagine it wouldn’t be.” He faced him and asked, “Do we have an agreement, Ulquiorra?”
 
The Espada looked from the hole in his chest to his eyes. “Yes.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Ichigo sat with his hands clasped between his knees, Grimmjow and Nel to his immediate right, with Harribel to his left. Ulquiorra leaned against the wall somewhere behind him, content as always to watch. Ever since their talk, Ulquiorra had spent more and more time around him, simply observing. That was fine by Ichigo, so long as he stopped trying to kill other arrancar.
 
The only loose ends among the arrancar were the Quinto Espada’s death and Barragan’s slighted Fracción. So far they had yet to wreck havoc, but according to just about every arrancar he’d spoken with, their behavior was beginning to border on homicidal.
 
While he didn’t think it was reasonable to expect them all to be house trained kittens, he didn’t want them to be beating other arrancar within an inch of their life. Establishing territory was one thing, but marking entire sections of Las Noches as untraversable if you were below Espada rank fell into fear mongering.
 
Starrk wandered in last, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. That made all of them.
 
He stood, and didn’t need to raise his voice, the group was small and as quiet as usual. “With Aaroniero dead, you all get bumped up in rank.” That was immediately apparent upon his execution, no one was surprised, but it needed to be said. “That leaves
décimo open. Any suggestions?”
 
The Espada traded looks, most having someone in mind, but waiting to see who would speak first.
 
Yylfordt shrugged. “Di Roy?”
 
Apacci scoffed. “Sure. Let’s promote

all

of Grimmjow’s fraccion while we’re at it.”
 
He shot back. “Like you can talk.”
 
Ichigo cut them off before it could get out of hand. “I can do without the commentary. Any other suggestions?”
 
Zommari suggested. “Aisslinger.”
 
Ichigo was surprised to hear from him, he hardly ever spoke or contributed, and while he couldn’t pair a face with the name, he had no doubt the suggestion was valid.
 
There was a long pause, then Starrk spoke. “Pesche.”
 
“

Who

?” asked Edrad. He sounded more than skeptical.
 
Starrk nodded towards Neliel. “Mija’s old fraccion. White restored his mask, and he’s quite powerful.”
 
Neliel positively beamed. Ichigo made a note to follow up with Starrk. If he could give a recommendation like that, he must have fought Pesche, and if that was true, then maybe Nel and her fraccion warmed up to him more than he’d thought.
 
Szayel asked, “Is there a reason no one will name Baraggan’s fraccion?”
 
The scientist spent his days locked in his own lab, and he couldn’t care less for gossip, so it was no wonder he didn’t know. Ichigo shared a look with Harribel. “I was getting to that. They’ve been playing a bit too rough, and depending on their response, they might not be alive to fill the position.”
 
Harribel carried on. “Their loyalty to Baraggan, even in his death, is just barely outmatched by their fear of White.”
 
Shawlong commented dismissively. “Troublemakers, but hardly a threat.”
 
“To you,” Ichigo said, “or any other Espada, hardly, but to a numeros?

Apacci

.”
 
She floundered for a moment, not expecting to be thrown into the conversation. “I talk to the other arrancar-”
 
“Weaklings,” Yylfordt interjected.
 
Apacci continued louder, as if he hadn’t spoken. “And they’ve staked out most of the Southern end for themselves. Instead of cutting straight through to get from East to West, they have to go around.”
 
Edrad snorted, “So what?”
 
“

So,

they don’t all have sonido. It takes them literal days to get from one end to another. They can’t even cut over or above. How is that practical?”
 
Harribel took over from there. “It’s one thing to settle territorial disputes with force and another thing to band together in a gang as if they’re residing within enemy territory.”
 
It seemed that put things into perspective for the more fire blooded Espada. Grimmjow wasn’t as dense as he pretended to be, he understood well enough why this wasn’t acceptable, too well even. He’d even brought it up beforehand.
 
Ulquiorra asked, “Will you kill them?”
 
All eyes turned to Ichigo, even Harribel’s. It seemed she was right, they did all expect the worst. “Not if they disband without a fight, but I’m not going to be the one who confronts them.”
 
“Why not?” Mila asked.
 
Grimmjow cut in. “Cause he’s the goddamned boogeyman. Would any arrancar in their right mind slip up with White standing on their proverbial grave?”
 
Ichigo had already spoken to Grimmjow about it, and it was no secret Ichigo sent the Espada in his place when he couldn’t, or didn’t choose to act.
 
Yylfordt frowned. “That’s a good point.” He brightened and punched his fist into his palm. “So who gets to kick their face in?”

Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest. “Cool off. We choose the
décimo Espada first, then we’ll address Baraggan’s fraccion.” He didn’t hold too much stock in numbers or their rank, but he thought the structure helped ease some of their natural tendency for chaos, and it gave them a goal to strive for.
 
He looked back at Neliel and asked, “Who’s in the cards?”
 
She hid a grin and rattled off. “
Aisslinger, Pesche, and Di Roy.”
 
Grimmjow scoffed. “Forgot already, asshole?”
 
Ichigo defended. “I’m bad with names, alright?” He looked back at the Espada and asked, “Who wants Aisslinger?”
 
The numeros got Zommari’s vote, Szayel’s, and surprisingly, Shawlong.
 
“Pesche.” To Ichigo’s surprise, he got Grimmjow’s vote, Harribels, Starrk’s, and Mila, Cyan’s and Apacci’s.
 
Yylfordt griped. “Their vote only counts for one...right?”
 
Ichigo shared a look of confirmation with Harribel and confirmed, “Their vote counts as one.” He asked, “Di Roy?”
 
Unsurprisingly, Yylfordt went for Di Roy, as did Edrad, but Ulquiorra chose not to vote.
 
Ichigo said, “Unless anyone has a good argument for it, Pesche is the
décimo Espada.”
 
Edrad snorted in disapproval. “I’ve never even seen him.”
 
“He’s recommended by Starrk, that counts for much.” Harribel reminded.
 
Grimmjow groaned, the sound bordering on a snarl. “Can we move on?”
 
Ichigo relented. “Yes, now we can talk about Baraggan’s fraccion.” He asked the room, “How many of them are there?”
 
“Six.” Half the Espada provided that answer simultaneously.
 
Seemed like everyone knew but him. Ichigo hadn’t ever fought Baraggan’s fraccion, he knew next to nothing about them. He asked, “Would it be an overestimation to send 6 Espada to confront them?”
 
Szayel cut off Grimmjow before he could answer. “Three are quite weak, and if my data has aged well, the strongest would still be either Choe Neng Poww or Abirama. Alone, they aren’t much, they rely on fighting in a group when possible.”
 
“Fine,” Ichigo said. He looked to Grimmjow. “Choose who to take, and deal with them. Talk first, and if-”
 
“

When

.” Grimmjow interrupted.
 
Ichigo frowned. “

If

that fails, you can kill them.” He added, “Neliel will be shadowing you.”
 
Szayel goaded, “Don’t trust your own fraccion?”
 
“Have you heard Grimmjow tell a story?” Ichigo snorted. “I’d like to know what happens. Neliel will be an observer, nothing more.”
 
Ichigo raised his hand in half wave. “Have fun.” He stepped into la sangre and left, trusting his Espada to work this out on their own.
 
Harribel was right, he needed to let them do their job, and that meant easing off. His propensity to micromanage meant a lot of arrancar still thought they could avoid punishment when his attention was diverted, and Adaliz was one hell of a diversion. He couldn’t let that mentality flourish.
 
--- xxx ---
   
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche
 
Fallen Espada

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

Fraccion: Pesche Guatiche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kill your Gods. Devour your oppressors.

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow Jeagerjaques
 
He’d spoken with Kurosaki and Harribel about this beforehand, it wasn’t a surprise that he would be point, but the lack of supervision caught him off guard. He watched Kurosaki disappear into that darkness, stunned. He wasn’t the only one, most of the Espada looked to Harribel by default.
 
She reiterated what Kurosaki said, “You heard him, this is Grimmjow’s show.” Her eyes settled on him. “Choose,
tercero.”
 
Now that the shock was wearing off, he couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across his face. “
Yylfordt, Edrad, Shawlong.”
 
Szayel scoffed in disgust and turned away, muttering incredulously, “Color me surprised.”
 
Grimmjow’s patience for Szayel was nonexistent, and Kurosaki was no longer present. He growled, “Maricón.”
 
Szayel narrowed his eyes, but didn’t take the bait.
 
When Kurosaki got bored sparring with him, then the hollow would come out and play. Sometimes the visored even fell asleep, and he and the hollow would talk. All Zangetsu gave a flying fuck about was battle and carnage and Kurosaki, so their topics were limited. They wouldn’t speak much, just a few words here or there, but he’d heard about the Espada’s

interest

in Kurosaki and it only made him hate the other more.
 
Szayel left angry, and the rest of the Espada followed suit, save for Neliel and Harribel. Apacci cleared her throat, pointedly drawing his attention. “I wanna go.”
 
Yylfordt asked, “What for?”
 
“Revenge, why else? I wanna go.”
 
Grimmjow looked her up and down, then to the two that flanked her. “You never go anywhere alone, that means I have to take

all

of you?”
 
Mila crossed her arms and bristled. “You say that like you didn’t just default to your old fraccion.”
 
Everyone had their safety blankets, and he knew his old fraccion inside and out. Grimmjow shrugged it off. “Enough yammering, let’s go already.”
 
He stepped into sonido and the rest of the Espada followed, with Neliel hanging back. It was a blessing that Kurosaki often held these meetings in large, open areas, it made coming and going that much easier. The visored didn’t seem to like being caged in a small room, and Grimmjow had to admit, he didn’t seem to fit in one. Even without feeling his reiatsu, his presence was huge, enough that Kurosaki looked distinctly out of place. In fact, the only place that seemed to compliment him were the naked dunes of Hueco Mundo. Creatures like Kurosaki needed room to stretch, and Las Noches wasn’t the place for that.
 
 
They crossed a distance of miles in minutes, stretching out his pesquisa to find the cluster of fraccion. He’d never liked them, they’d always thought they were more important than they really were. Now that they had the balls to try to carve out their own territory inside Kurosaki’s. For that, he wanted to crush them.
 
It seemed the approach of a an armful of Espada was enough to warrant their attention. The closer they got, the closer together the fraccion drifted, until they were huddled together in one easy to manage group.
 
Grimmjow stopped a cautious distance away, the Espada behind him making it clear in the way they arranged themselves that he was in charge. He liked that, being at the top and having that much more power at his disposal. He didn’t

need

their help, but it was a damn good feeling to know that he did.
 
Baraggan’s fraccion weren’t arranged in any obvious way, none of them seemed very submissive. If Ichigo hadn’t dealt with them now, there was a good possibility of infighting, if it hadn’t happened already. Arrancar that were so independent and aggressive rarely stayed together without one much stronger leader, and Baraggan was six feet under.
 
The blonde spoke first. “Need something?”
 
Like they didn’t already know. Grimmjow said, “It’s cute how you think you can bend the rules and carve out your own territory with no consequences.”
 
The blonde let out a condescending bark of laughter. “Who cares what happens to a few weak hollows?”
 
“Yeah,

who cares

?” Yylfordt growled. He squeezed his Zanpakuto, but didn’t draw, not before Grimmjow.
 
Apacci shouted, “You can’t just run around dismembering arrancar

on your side

.”
 
The one with nasty looking tattoos smirked. “And why not? They’re weak.”
 
Grimmjow kept his tone uncharacteristically even, making a real effort not to devolve immediately into cursing. He could feel Neliel’s eyes on him, even if he couldn’t see her. “You’ve cut off the entirety of the southern side of Las Noches. It wasn’t yours to take, and you’re gonna stop.”
 
“And why should we?” asked the one with the catlike skull on his head.
 
Grimmjow’s answered, “Because you’re a nuisance and it’s a direct order. You don’t need another reason.”
 
The one with the cat-like skull reached for his Zanpakuto, but the blonde one only laughed. “So where’s White then?”
 
“You think you’re worth his time?” Grimmjow laughed, loud and full of condescension. “He’s got better shit to deal with than a handful of unruly numeros.”
 
Tattoos curled his lip in disgust. “White isn’t even a full arrancar. His reiatsu still has the reek of shinigami.”
 
That angered Grimmjow more than he’d like to admit. His eyes narrowed, baring his teeth in a silent snarl. “

When

you can sense it.” Kurosaki could wipe them out with a well placed swing of his sword, they were

trash

.
 
Tattoo’s blew him off. “Whatever, for all we know, he’s just real good at hiding it. Baraggan can’t be dead, he was God of death, how can he be dead!?”
 
“You must be brain dead,” said Mila. “Or do you think you imagined Baraggan getting obliterated?”
 
Grimmjow reached for his own Zanpakuto, drawing it slowly, the scrape of steel noticeable in the silence. “

Enough

. Last chance.” They couldn’t possibly think Baraggan was coming back, they had to be delusional.
 
Baraggan’s fraccion all drew their swords in near unison, their choice made.

“Fine,” Grimmjow said, “Die for nothing.”

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
He hadn’t left Grimmjow to handle all the fun exclusively for his health, he had his own shit to deal with. The kind that involved crossing the expanse of miles in a footstep, the kind that he had to do alone. He hadn’t forgot Loly’s warning of hollows going missing, he’d agonized over it like all the other problems in his life.
 
He’d started running patrols, of a sort. Die Königin was just as relentless as ever, but every now and again, he noticed a haze in his awareness, a kind of gap not unlike Mictlān’s grave, or the pillars Adaliz had anchored in the sand when she’d first begun her assault. Whatever was causing the stutters in his awareness, he had no doubt it was tied to das licht.
 
He still couldn’t help but feel he was playing a hopeless game of tag. He was reacting to what Adaliz did. For all intents and purposes he was trapped in a snowglobe while she raked her nails over the glass and shook his tiny, collapsing world. She could track him if she tried, he couldn’t block out the vision of those eyes, not entirely.
 
He jumped across Hueco Mundo, skipping massive expanses of space. He’d step out into more sand, ruins, the peaks of what appeared to be mountains, trees, a seemingly bottomless pit; Hueco Mundo was small, compared to the living world or Soul Society, but it was by no means tiny. He kept coming up empty.
 
Until he got lucky.
 
He found a bloodied and battered arrancar, and it wasn’t one of his own. He caught sight of him silhouetted against the dunes, a trail of blood stretching only yards behind him, starting from nowhere. There were no signs of a fight, no traces of reishi lingering in the air, but this arrancar was clearly either running from something, or he’d been dumped here, yet he saw no signs of a garganta.
 
Ichigo crossed the distance in the rush of sonido, the tattered ends of his shihakusho settling around him as he crouched beside the arrancar. He hadn’t turned to dust, he was still alive, but he looked dead. He was dressed in all black, a tattered cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Ichigo could see the wet glisten of blood. It matted his hair and dripped off his mask.
 
He moved to touch him, and the arrancar jerked back before he could, finally noticing him. He looked up at Ichigo with blind panic, trying to drag himself away. While he was missing an arm and his leg was broken, he wasn’t going to make any sort of progress, it was more than pitiful to watch.
 
Ichigo reached out and grabbed him by a fistful of his cloak, dragging him back. The arrancar made a choked, agonized sound, but stopped trying to escape. He was shaking like a leaf, both in fear and pain. One of his eyes was red with blood, narrowed and watering as he struggled to see. Ichigo demanded, “Who did this to you?”
 
The arrancar said nothing, and Ichigo growled in annoyance. He pulled him closer with a fist in his cloak, and with his other hand, he stuck his fingers in the open wound where his arm use to be. He felt for the traces of whatever reiatsu was left. The arrancar seized in pain, but Ichigo’s sympathy was rather nonexistent. This was something he’d done enough that it had become routine, even if he hadn’t needed to recently.
 
He pulled his hand away, the human nature of this reiatsu drawing a scowl on his face.

Quincy

. And not a signature he recognized. He wasn’t the best at this sort of thing, it did help that whoever did this was strong. He didn’t realize he’d been afraid he’d sense Ishida until he hadn’t, it was only brief respite from a larger problem.
 
He flexed his fingers, feeling something he could only classify as bad, and realized this was a remnant of das licht. He had a feeling this might hurt if he could feel pain.

“It’s not that shocking, King, you already knew the Quincy were meddling in your business.”

‘But what purpose does this serve?’

He gestured down at the dying hollow.

‘How are they even getting here without opening a garganta? Outside of Nelliel, no one else has been coming or going from Las Noches. Not with any trackable method.’

He’d have gotten a warning from Szayel if a garganta was opened. Around Las Noches, there was never any activity, but farther out into Hueco Mundo, occasionally hollows would go to or from the living world. He couldn’t control every hollow, but he could watch, and for those instances Szayel noted, he’d never found anything suspicious about it.
 
Zangetsu didn’t have an answer, but Ossan did.

“If Adaliz is interfering personally, it’s more than possible she could open a path between worlds. It would explain how she set the pillars without our notice.

”
 
Ossan made a good point, but he had to wonder what he was supposed to do about this when he couldn’t even sense it happening. Maybe if he also had centuries of practice, but he didn’t. He had a sharp learning curve, but this might be asking too much of him.
 
Ichigo’s attention returned to the arrancar. He was mostly dead, and he wasn’t a miracle worker when it came to healing Kido. He could drag him through la sangre, but that in itself would probably finish him off. There was no saving him.
 
He finally dropped the arrancar, who immediately resumed trying to drag himself away. Watching him struggle to live when there was no hope made his insides squirm. He drew Zangetsu, turning the blade in his hand and holding it above the arrancar’s head. He brought his sword down without hesitation, killing him quickly.
 
He pulled his sword free, watching the blood congeal in the sand with a shiver. He’d long since stopped feeling so unbearably sick when he killed out of mercy. Now he felt very little, but even a small amount of regret or disgust was too much. At least this one wasn’t begging...or a young shinigami.

“Don’t go there, King.”

So he didn’t. He turned and went home, crossing leagues in an instant. He stepped from la sangre into an empty hallway, and he’d made sure it was empty beforehand. He was going out of his way not to startle any arrancar.
 
Grimmjow was right, he was King, but he was also their boogeyman. He wasn’t some omniscient God like some of the lower ranked arrancar believed, but he had a good deal more than reiatsu to throw around. He was taking Harribel and Neliel’s advice when it came to not frightening the arrancar. His inner spirits weren’t much help, their opinions were unsurprisingly brutal.
 
He put his finger to the communicator in his ear and said, “Report.” At the moment it was set to only communicate with Neliel, but if anyone wanted to use it to find him, he was sadly very, very found. His privacy was next to null unless he had a buffer.
 
Neliel answered, her voice perky. “Kitty completed his task with no losses on our side. Want me to send him to you?”
 
“Why not, I’ll stay put.” He was about to let her go, then asked, “How did it go with Pesche?”
 
She laughed. “As you can expect. He was a bit upset about it, but he’ll be fine.”
 
With the dedication Pesche gave towards protecting Nel, he had no doubt he saw this as an interference to his goals. He said, “Once he makes out that this means he’ll get to hang around you, I’m sure he’ll be more than fine.”
 
He heard her sigh fondly. “We can hope.”
 
There was silence from the communicator and he turned to the wall. He touched it, pulling the walls apart with la sangre. It opened up to Hueco Mundo, a cold breeze snaking through the growing gap in the wall. He sat and leaned forward on his knees and closed his eyes. He was bone tired, but he was no less twitchy now than he’d been weeks ago. The difference being the consequences for sleeping were much lower than before.
 
Ossan reminded him.

“It has been too long since you slept, Ichigo.”

“How long?”

“The passage of time here is strange, but I would wager it has been a couple of days.”

For how little sleep he’d gotten, he felt relatively okay. “Shouldn’t I be more exhausted?”

“Perhaps it is the effect of la sangre? You’ve needed less sleep. Or rather, you appear to need less sleep.”

He would have to go with the latter if he was a betting man. He still couldn’t feel pain, and this might have something to do with that. Or he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.
 
He thought about Ishida. He tried not to, but the look of betrayal on his face haunted him. He ran that conversation over and over in his head, and he saw no other outcomes. His friend was angry, and he couldn’t help him.
 
Ichigo found he’d dozed off when he was jolted awake, sucking in a sharp breath. He sensed Grimmjow’s reiatsu nearby, not necessarily too close for comfort, he just couldn’t get over the fear he was being snuck up on. He stretched, looking over his shoulder when Grimmjow stepped in. The Espada looked pleased with himself, which was good, his self esteem lately had been too low to be normal. He supposed it was only natural when he lost all the time. There wasn’t anything he could do about that without stomping on his pride, so this was the best he could do. Ichigo asked, “Did you kill them all?”
 
Grimmjow made an exasperated noise. “No, one of them surrendered, and he doesn’t have his pals to back him up, so he’s done, I let him go.” He sat down on the edge, his legs dangling over the side and flopped back, folding his arms behind his head. He observed, “You smell like blood.”
 
Ichigo glanced down at his hands, now bloodless, but he supposed nothing could get past Grimmjow’s nose. “I found a dying arrancar some leagues out, not too unusual, but the reiatsu in his wounds was Quincy.” He didn’t mention how shaken the arrancar had been. No sense starting the rumor mill.
 
The look on Grimmjow's face flitted from surprise to angry confusion. “What?

How

? Isn’t that pink-haired motherfucker monitoring travel in and out of this place?”
 
Ichigo shrugged. “I’m assuming it’s something he can’t track, or something that looks a whole lot like what die Königin is already up to.”
 
Grimmjow asked, “What are you going to do about it?”
 
“Not much I can do, other than patrol and cross my fingers, hoping I run into someone.”
 
“Sounds frustrating,” Grimmjow said.
 
“You have no idea.” Running around in circles in Hueco Mundo reminded him of the war, and it was just as boring, no matter how quickly he could cross the distance now. He yawned and changed the subject back onto Grimmjow. “

So

. Debrief, tell me what happened.”
 
Grimmjow’s head rolled back to look at him, then his eyes refocused on the ceiling. “What’s there to say?”
 
Ichigo snorted softly. “I don’t know, that’s why I asked.” It took a lot of effort not to tack ‘stupid’ onto the end of that sentence. He liked to think moments like that were proof he wasn’t the teenager he felt like.
 
“Shuddup...Didn’t you ask Neliel?”
 
“I’m asking you first,” said Ichigo. Technically that was a lie, but he was going to try to get the full story from Grimmjow first. Besides, the Espada was arrogant, but he wasn’t a narcissist. If he wanted to know how Grimmjow fared from an outsider’s perspective, he’d need to talk to Nel.
 
After a moment, Grimmjow started. “I went after the tattoo one and what’s his name...Ggio. The tres bestias went after the real big, stupid one with that thing...Ayon? Whatever. That blonde bastard went after Yylfordt. The girlie one and Nirgge went against Shawlong and Edrad. Ggio surrendered once I killed the tattooed one and all his friends went down.”
 
“Sounds fair,” said Ichigo. “Seems like things went your way, so why are you frustrated?”

“Who said I’m frustrated?” Grimmjow snarled.
 
“You’re bouncing your knee and your reiatsu is all over the place. You’re an open book.”
 
“Fuck you,” Grimmjow snapped, “Like you’re any better.”
 
“Never said I wasn’t. So what’s bothering you?”
 
There was a long pause, then Grimmjow muttered, “It’s really fuckin’ stupid.” Ichigo said nothing, he knew if he pushed harder, Grimmjow wouldn’t say anything at all. A few more minutes crept by, and he was starting to make peace with the fact he’d never know. Grimmjow’s voice was barely audible from where Ichigo sat. “...just the lack of fuckin’ respect.”
 
Ichigo looked at him, unsure what he was talking about. “Respect?”
 
Grimmjow stiffened, twisting to see him. “For you! You dumb fuck. Doesn’t it bother you?”
 
“Does it bother

you

?” Clearly it did, but Ichigo could put his finger on why. Grimmjow growled, and Ichigo heaved a sigh. “And what would fix it? Killing everyone?”
 
“

Sure

,” the Espada grumbled.
 
Ichigo asked, “Does that mean I have your respect?”
 
Grimmjow looked at him with wide eyes, then looked anywhere else. “Don’t let it get to your head, dumbass. You’re strong.”
 
That was a bit flattering, especially from Grimmjow. He laid back and asked, “Did you have someplace to be?”
 
“Why?”
 
Ichigo muttered, “Tired.” That was all he needed to say, and Grimmjow didn’t move to leave. It was nice that he didn’t make him beg. There was always Zangetsu, but there was always the chance Alteza would interfere. Over the months, Grimmjow’s presence had become familiar, and he knew without a doubt that Grimmjow wouldn’t hurt him while he slept, he was too prideful for that.
 
Curling up on his side, Ichigo left his Zanpakuto where it was. The weight wasn’t necessarily comfortable. The edge dug into his side and his shoulder in a sharp, painful way, but it eased his thoughts to know it was close at hand. He was exhausted, he drifted off rather quickly. He was too tired to notice the tug on his reiatsu, he slept straight through it...
 
--- xxx ---
 
Zangetsu
 
His wielder was sound asleep, and it was the prime opportunity to talk with his fraccion. He materialized beside Ichigo, and Grimmjow barely even moved. He must be getting use to him if he barely even acknowledged his presence.
 
Grimmjow snapped quietly, “

What

? Am I not a good enough babysitter?”
 
Zangetsu sat, crossing his legs, his knee brushing King’s shoulder. He didn’t stir, King trusted him. “Yer fine. Wanted to talk to ya.”
 
Grimmjow just glared, but he was listening. Good enough. “You heard about the shit with the adjuchas.”
 
“I have ears and Nel has a mouth; Of course I did, everyone did.”
 
He’d figured, Nel really knew how to run her mouth. “Do me a favor, try to keep King in your sight for awhile.”
 
“Why?”
 
“It’s all getting to him.” Zangetsu said.
 
Grimmjow asked, brows scrunching together. “What is?”
 
Zangetsu narrowed his eyes. “Everything.” He looked down at King, aware his dreams weren’t pleasant. They were never pleasant. Ever since his doubts about Soul Society had started to fester, since he’d spoken to Ishida, the wind howled.
 
King wasn’t happy.
 
He hadn’t been asleep too long, but he started to mutter in that strange language he wasn’t privy to. That annoyed him almost as much as Alteza’s mutterings. Loud fucker.
 
Grimmjow noticed, staring for a moment in disquiet before he asked, “What’s he sayin’?”
 
“I don’t know,” growled Zangetsu.
 
Grimmjow accused, “How can you not know, aren’t you the same?”
 
Zangetsu nearly brushed him off, but Ossan’s presence in Ichigo’s soul reminded him to be calm. “Now that you have it back, can you imagine having part of your soul taken away? There are places in his soul even I can’t go. It’s infuriating.”
 
Grimmjow sat up, frowning down at King. Given the death grip he had on his Zanpakuto, maybe the Espada could imagine it.
 
Tuning out his wielder's mutterings, Zangetsu said, “Distract him. Fight, shout at him, I don’t care. Get him out of his head.”
 
“Is it really that bad?”
 
Zangetsu snorted under his breath. “You know how he is. The longer this goes on, the greater the chance he kills someone he doesn’t mean to.”
 
Grimmjow eyed King’s back dubiously. “He seemed alright.” He didn’t sound so sure anymore.
 
“Just...watch him.” Before Grimmjow, he returned to his soul to the shifting black sands that held his wielder captive. King did a good job repressing the things that made him panic, but this was one huge problem he was doing his best to ignore. He was doing better, he was letting people in, but there was no one person he really let in. Out of necessity and desperation Grimmjow was high on that list, and as painful as it was to keep turning to him for help, he was remarkably reliable.

Ossan came up behind him and reminded him. “Grimmjow respects Ichigo, he looks to him for guidance. Ichigo is in good hands.”
 
Zangetsu grimaced, kicking a stone out onto the sand. It hissed and swallowed it up, just as dangerous as it looked. He growled, “Hands that would kill him if he could.”
 
“You know that’s no longer true. Ichigo doesn’t trust blindly, the Espada is worthy of it.”
 
Zangetsu knew that was true, but that didn’t mean it sat well with him. He could sense Grimmjow there, he could feel his eyes on King, yet he never woke. Ossan was right, it meant a good deal that King could sleep with someone so dangerous sitting only a few feet away.

Zangetsu muttered, “He’s a hot-headed mess.” The only thing that was a good fit was that somehow King trusted him.
 
“The Espada is still our best option.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow Jeagerjaques
 
Kurosaki slept a long time, more than he was expecting him to. It had been awhile since he’d been on guard duty. He preferred to pretend Kurosaki needed protection, and not the other way around. He was just too damn strong. Even sitting near him, it kept his hackles raised. He’d ended up with his hand around his neck or a sword to his gut more than enough times to be wary. Not that it could save him in the end.
 
What kept him coming back was the fact that Kurosaki never followed through, and the one time he had, he’d fixed him. It might be a shallow reason to trust him now, but he did. He watched him sleep, brows drawn tight even while he was unconscious.
 
He didn’t know why the bastard could never relax. The happiest he’d ever seen him was with his swords in hand, cloaked in his own immense power. It suited him. Seeing him asleep was always surreal, but any illusion of weakness was only that; an illusion. If he so much as sneezed, he’d end up with a sword in his gut.
 
Grimmjow couldn’t be sure, but he thought he liked the risk, even if he didn’t like dealing with a confused, aggressive visored once he was awake.
 
He noticed Kurosaki stiffen, but he blinked, and in a cloud of gently settling reishi, Kurosaki was pressed to the far wall, his short sword in hand. He stayed still, letting the visored come to grips with where he was on his own. Kurosaki blinked, his eyes focusing on Grimmjow, then he breathed, his shoulders sagging.
 
He’d never pried before, but what his inner hollow had to say didn’t sit well with him. Grimmjow let out a tense breath, and asked, “Nightmare?”
 
Kurosaki seemed just as unprepared for the question as Grimmjow was for asking it. He blinked, rising from his crouch and sheathing his sword. “Is it a nightmare if it happened?”
 
“A memory?”
 
Kurosaki narrowed his eyes, crossing the room to sit back down nearby. “Sort of. Mine mixed with a few memories I’m pretty sure aren’t mine.”
 
Grimmjow looked at him. “You don’t know?”
 
He thought he saw embarrassment on Kurosaki’s face, but he wasn’t sure. “I’ve killed a lot of hollows, so have the adjuchas I’m helping evolve. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
 
He’d heard that much from Nel, but to see proof was strange. To see someone so strong crippled by

dreams

wasn’t fair. Grimmjow said, “Surely the ones where you’re running scared aren’t your memories?”
 
Kurosaki blushed, both in shame and anger, but the predominant emotion was anger. “Let’s see you fight a war when you’re sixteen.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “You’re sixteen? Fuck off.”
 
The visored rolled his eyes and snorted. “

Was

. Now I’m...shit, Ossan how old am I?”
 
“Ossan?” he questioned.
 
“Inner spirit.” Kurosaki looked away, distracted by whatever inner conversation he was having. “About 28, including the surprise time travel.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened. “Stop fucking around.”
 
Kurosaki protested, “I’m not!”
 
He was a shit liar, he really did look like he was telling the truth, and he really didn’t seem that crazy, nor the type to lie on purpose. He blinked, realizing a kid conquered Las Noches, invaded Seireitei, and fought the Soutaichou with less effort than Aizen needed to get dressed in the morning.
 
His laughter started low, than grew into a crescendo, tears pulling at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck right off, Kurosaki!” His tone was more or less teasing, he was having a hard time swallowing this, and Kurosaki was sitting there with this baffled look on his face.
 
He got his laughter mostly under control, running his hand through his hair. “

Christ

, you’re just a kid.”
 
“

Hey

,” Kurosaki groused, “I’d be considered an adult if I was still alive.”
 
Grimmjow smirked. “Keep that shit to yourself, half the arrancar here would kill themselves out of pure embarrassment if they knew that.” He sighed, his question regretful. “How did you get so goddamned powerful?”
 
Frowning, Kurosaki folded his legs. “I meant it when I said it: we’re all Aizen’s experiments. He mucked around with your life as an adjuchas, and he mucked around with mine before I was even born. He made me a weapon, it’s what I’m good at.”
 
Grimmjow scoffed lightly. “I guess it’s good he slipped up and ended up shooting himself in the face...so to speak.”
 
“He gave it a good old fashioned try.” Kurosaki chuckled darkly. “He never tried to be my friend or an ally, you know how he was. Nooo...he just made me strong, and set Soul Society in my sights, but...he underestimated how much I hated him.”
 
“You make it sound like Soul Society is the enemy, but Aizen was worse.”
 
Kurosaki sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth. “It’s complicated. Soul Society suffers from some of the same problems as human world.” He let out an overdramatic sigh. “I prefer Hueco Mundo. Things here make sense.”
 
Grimmjow made a soft, derisive sound of agreement. For the few minutes they’d been in Soul Society, he saw no reason to go back. He preferred the chaos of Hueco Mundo, far and large. He said, “You didn’t answer. Is Soul Society the enemy?”
 
Kurosaki sighed through his nose, and looked genuinely exhausted, despite the sleep he’d gotten. He looked weary, he never would have guessed he was just barely clear of his teens. “I’d prefer they weren’t, but I’m afraid that answer is yes.”
 
Despite his age, and what he was, and all of his indecisions, being close to him was always daunting. Grimmjow wasn’t sure if that was a result of Alteza or Kurosaki’s own aura, but his presence was vast and made him feel small, vulnerable. The same way he felt his own mortality when he tread water in the ocean, the bottom sloping too far down into murky darkness for him to truly know what lay beneath him.

He blinked, surprised by the memory. He remembered a huge expanse of water, despite never having been there. He could almost taste the salt and feel the sting in his eyes. He shook the feeling off and asked, “You going to pick a fight?”
 
“Che...no. But when the time comes, we’ll retaliate. I’m tired of this.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know what he would do in his place. Actually, he would probably pick a fight and get everyone killed. Kurosaki wasn’t doing a half bad job, but he agonized over every moment as if it was his last. Baraggan enjoyed ruling so much he got bored and killed everyone. Aizen was a manipulative, sadistic fuck, but Kurosaki...Kurosaki suffered. It didn’t feel good to watch, but for once, he didn’t want to take his place.

--- xxx ---
 
Thanks for reading and sticking around this long! This is quite long *shame* I couldn’t help but write more Grimmjow things. And I tried so hard to abstain.

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

True evil is, above all things, seductive.

--- xxx ---
 
Uryuu Ishida
 
The medallion weighed heavy in his pocket, it seemed it was designed with the sole purpose of being passively uncomfortable, of prickling at his thoughts. The edges were sharp, it was awkwardly larger than his palm, and it heated his skin the way near boiling water made his skin itch. He got use to it, even if its presence wasn’t comfortable, and he got careless.
 
He was leaving Orihime’s apartment when it fell out of his bag, displaced by a textbook. It bounced once, rolled across the rug, and fell flat by Orihime’s knee. She picked it up with the casual ease she might pick up spare change, and it felt wrong, like watching her grab a loaded gun.

Her voice started cheerful, but quickly deflated.  “You dropped...your…” She lowered her hand, her expression wavering as she studied it, as she undoubtedly felt the pulse of energy within it. “Ishida...what is this?”
 
His heart caught in his throat, feeling he’d been caught in a lie, but what lie, he couldn’t be certain. “Give it to me.” He hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but the urgency in his tone was enough to make her hand it back without question.
 
He took it, stuffing it in his jeans’ pocket, and she worried her lip, the silence heavy and stifling. She was confused and offended, and why shouldn’t she be? He pushed up his glasses nervously. “Don’t worry about it.”
 
“But-”
 
“It’s not your business.” He regretted the words the moment he said them.
 
Hurt flashed on her face, but she quickly buried it with a stiff smile. “Okay. Thanks for letting me see your notes.” He instantly felt like dirt. She was being polite, because she was Inoue, but her body language screamed for him to get out.

He swallowed and nearly bolted. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The words felt hollow, shallow, and she didn’t respond. He shut the door behind him and hesitated, listening even if he felt like scum for doing it.
 
From beyond the door he heard the muffled sound of her quietly sobbing, and it was a spike to his heart. He knew she would cry, but why he felt the need to confirm it and torture himself was beyond him.
 
It wasn’t what he said, and it wasn’t what she said. It was that he was keeping secrets, secrets they both knew were dangerous, and he still couldn’t bring himself to tell her.
 
He left and was forced to ask himself, ‘what the hell are you doing?’
 
--- xxx ---
 
A reishi arrow streaked past his face and struck the wall beside him. He stiffened, watching it dissolve into the wall into an address. He thought he remembered Kurosaki whining about some mess Urahara had left on his wall in some sort of reishi that looked like blood. This appeared to be something similar, if not cleaner.
 
The reishi burned the wall in pale blue, spelling out a location and a time. That was tomorrow at noon, and downtown no less. He would have to skip school. There would be no dropping in and dropping out, these Sternritter were making damn sure his life was disrupted.
 
He looked back in the direction the arrow came from, but saw and sensed no one. Either they were very talented at hiding their presence, or that shot had come from very, very far away. These were dangerous people.
 
One way or another, these people were responsible for his mother’s death. He couldn’t forget seeing her lying so still, never to move again...More than one thing drove him. A need to understand why, to know other Quincy, people like him.
 
He’d thought about it long and hard, he actually hadn’t intended to go, but then he found himself on a mid-morning bus, stolen Seele Schneider hidden in his jacket. Given his father hadn’t taken very great pains to hide them, he wondered if he’d left them for him on purpose.
 
He only had to be concerned for a moment that he might not know who he was meeting with. He noticed Bazz right away--how could he miss a mohawk like that? He’d have to be blind.
 
He was sitting with a strange woman at the outdoor cafe. She was just as ill fitting as Bazz, her hair was long and wild and a shocking shade of light green. Her clothes were skimpy enough that the staff seemed uncomfortable she was there at all. He didn’t understand how her breasts stayed in that top, and those shorts were far too short and tight, they might as well be underwear. Lucky for her, the cafe staff were too fearful of Bazz to ask her to leave.
 
Compared to the two, he looked absolutely normal.
 
He watched them for a moment, searching for any signs this might be a trap. As he waited, Bazz flicked a ball of what looked like fire at the woman’s drink. It immediately started to boil and she nearly dropped it, little sparks dancing from her hands when she slapped them down on the cafe table. That was worth noting. If they had power like that, they had to be Echt Quincy.
 
He steeled himself and walked up to their table, and once he got within arms reach, they both stopped tormenting each other to look up at him. He didn’t bother with manners. “What do you want?”
 
“Aw don’t be like that.” Bazz put a foot on the edge of the free chair, pushing it away from the table with a painful screech. “Have a seat.”
 
The woman scowled at him, arms crossed under her breasts in a way that made Ishida struggle not to look, but he thought that might be the point. She hummed. “Well he’s a damn sight better than you, even if he’s a little average.” She added as an afterthought. “I’m Candice.”
 
Ishida pushed up his glasses and pulled the chair out. He sat, hands in his pockets and on his Quincy cross, just to be safe. Bazz spoke again, this time in German. “I ain’t one to ramble. If you’re in, you’re going to shadow the Jagdarmee

.

”
 
Ishida asked, “And what would that be?” He answered in German since Bazz had chosen to speak in German; if they didn't wish to be eavesdropped on, it was a simple solution.
 
“As the name implies. They hunt hollows, sometimes we even catch a few and set them loose on the shinigami.” He chuckled at the idea of that, and flicked a sugar cube at Candice. It hit her right between the breasts, much to his delight.
 
She fished it out and threw it at his face, but he seemed ready for this and dodged. Ishida watched it skitter into traffic, wondering if this was normal.
 
“Fucking

asshole

,” she growled. “Are you in or not, kid, I want to get the fuck out of here.”
 
Ishida asked, “Where do you hunt these hollows? Don’t shinigami monitor most cities?”
 
Candice answered, “They do, but they’re shit at it. How many are there total? Hundreds? There’s a shit ton more hollows than that.”
 
That was a good point, and he had to admit, short of a seated officer, the shinigami he encountered in Seireitei were vastly unprepared for a fight. He asked, “When did you want me to do this?”
 
Bazz raised a brow.“Right now, obviously. You came prepared, didn’t you?”
 
Ishida frowned, his hand tightening on his cross. He never liked being predictable.
 
Bazz clapped his hands together and stopped slouching. “Excellent, so let’s go.”
 
“I never said yes,” said Ishida.
 
Candice shoved away from the table and stood, hand on her hip. “I didn’t hear a no.”
 
Looking between the two, he realized they were right, he was going to go with them. “Fine.” He stood at about the same time as Bazz, the Quincy taking out his wallet.
 
Ishida said, “It’s rude to tip.”
 
Bazz put his wallet back and whistled. “I like this country. Come on, we’re not going far.” He and Candice led the way to the corner, and down a block to a business building. They walked past it to the parking structure, taking the stairs to the top. Ishida naturally assumed they had a car, but he discovered he was wrong.
 
At the top, Bazz looked around to be sure they were alone, then stepped out into an open space between cars. He pulled something from his pocket, infusing it with his reiatsu.
 
A column of light shot down from the sky, startling Ishida. It burned with reishi and something he couldn’t place, something that reminded him of the amulet he’d been given.
 
Candice stepped into it without preamble, and disappeared into the light. Bazz gestured. “After you.”
 
“Where does this go?” He was expecting to remain in Karakura, but he’d the sinking suspicion that wasn’t the case. This pillar of light reminded him of la sangre, and if it was the same, this portal could lead almost anywhere.
 
“To the job.”
 
Ishida’s expression soured. This could be a trap to lure him out of public eye, but there were holes in that theory, and he found it a bit unlikely they intended to fight him. That beside, Ishida had been training, and a good deal of his training was done against Ichigo. The man was a monster in a fight, and even in Ishida’s attempt to teach Ichigo reishi manipulation, he’d ended up learning more than he’d taught.
 
Bazz let out a long, annoyed sigh. “You’re buddies with that visored, consider this a test. We don’t trust you.”
 
This wasn’t a good situation, but he decided he would proceed as he had before. With extreme caution.
 
With a steadying breath, Ishida stepped into the light.
 
Pure energy flashed through his being, so similar to the rush of power he’d gotten from Ichigo. He staggered, catching himself on the other side with deep, heaving breaths. Candice was waiting impatiently for them both, tapping the toe of her boot on the sand. Sand? He looked around in shock. “This is…” Hueco Mundo. There was no mistaking it. “

How

?”
 
It was Bazz that answered, “Usually it’s the Jagdarmee that go hunting, but we’re testing your skill

and

your loyalty.”
 
Ishida asked, “How can you pass into Hueco Mundo without raising detection?”
 
Bazz held up the amulet that had opened the path of light. It looked similar to the one Ishida had, except this one had an intricate ‘H’ carved into the center. “I asked for a door, and die Königin obliged.”
 
Ishida didn’t think that was anything but the truth. If that same confusing power was involved, it was no wonder Ishida couldn’t sense it, and if what Kurosaki told him was correct, then it explained how their entrance went undetected.
 
Maybe it was a calculated choice to send the most brusque, straightforward pair to come collect him? They wouldn’t be able to hide secrets from him, and it would make him more inclined to accept their words at face value. It annoyed him that it was working. He pushed up his glasses and asked, “Fine, what am I doing?”
 
“Find an adjuchas, subdue it, and we’ll take it from there.”
 
Ishida had already begun to cast out his senses, asking, “What will you do with it then?”
 
Bazz snorted. “Send it after the shinigami, obviously.”
 
Ishida wasn’t sure what to think about that. He turned towards to the desert and slipped into hirenkyaku. Bazz and Candice were close behind him, and he had a feeling they wouldn’t interfere, that they were here to observe. He wouldn’t fail, this was just another hollow...

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
When Neliel returned from the Living World, he sensed the distress in her reiatsu before he saw it on her face. She hesitated, but she wasn’t the type to tell him pretty lies. “Ishida is missing.”
 
His stomach bottomed out.

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Ichigo.”

“But prepare for the worst.”

Zangetsu’s tone was stiff, less upset about Ishida and more upset about what this meant for his wielder.
 
Ichigo asked, “What happened?” His voice sounded dangerously thin, even to his own ears.
 
Nel paled, wetting her lips. “He didn’t show up to school, and he hasn’t been home in almost a week. The girl, Inoue, wasn’t sure if this was important, but she said he dropped something a few days before, some kind of amulet. She said that it hummed with a power she didn’t understand, she compared it to Alteza.”
 
Ichigo swallowed, his blood roaring in his ears. He rubbed his hand over his face, turning to pace. He wanted to act, but there was nothing he could do. He knew where Ishida was, he

knew

.
 
“

Ichigo

.” Ossan warned.

‘It’s the Sternritter, who the fuck else would it be?’

“You don’t know that.”

‘It’s not like you to lie to me.’

He was pacing in tighter circles, he wanted to leave. He wanted to open a garganta and hunt Ishida down, but he couldn’t go. He was trapped.

Trapped

.
 
fHe let out a scream of frustration, voice echoing off the walls, la sangre rippling in response. No one could feel how his reiatsu roiled, but it thickened around him enough to drive Nel to the far side of the room in flighty caution. That was smart of her.
 
He turned and stepped into la sangre, stepping out not onto the sands of hueco mundo, but several miles into the sky. He caught himself on reishi, staring up into the abyss with a soundless snarl. He drew Zangetsu, and while he was more than willing to go straight through Alteza, the thing sensed his violence and the grasping hands in the sky drew back, peeling away from a massive, burning iris. It stared at him in comprehension, and he held his swords before him. “

Bankai

.”
 
His power exploded outward, bathing the sky in black and red.
 
Holding his sword at the ready, his reiatsu burned along the edge of Zangetsu, gathering power. “Getsuga…”
 
With a white-knuckle grip, he raised his Zanpakuto. “Tensho.”
 
Reitsu cut a swath across the sky, stretching until the horizon and searing into the eyes of die Königin. His power razed a path through Adaliz’s control, and for a brief moment, she was blind to him. In the end, this wouldn’t fix anything, this wouldn’t even harm her much, but it was something.
 
He raised his sword again, watching the blaze of those eyes gathering, reforming in streaks. His voice shook with rage. “Getsuga…Tensho.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez
 
It wasn’t unusual for Kurosaki to be angry, but angry enough to spend a good two hours attacking the goddamned sky? That was new. He was on the roof to watch, most brave arrancar were. None of them could feel his power, it was nearly as uncomfortable as seeing something shatter, but hearing no noise to accompany it. Regardless of that fact, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was powerful.
 
For as far as the eye could see, Kurosaki’s reiatsu cut the night with red, his fury visible for anyone to see it. Grimmjow was afraid, how could any sane being not be when confronted with something so overwhelming?

Reach Kurosaki’s level

...what a joke, the visored was a monster. Sweat beaded on his skin, and he watched with the same fearful reverence he might observe the stars. Once, Kurosaki’s power had made him angry,

furious

. He knew now that was a knee-jerk reaction to his own fear, his own inadequacy. It made him feel very small.
 
Neliel had found him and told him what happened after Kurosaki had disappeared into la sangre. It wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks.
 
One thing he’d learned about Kurosaki, was that he didn’t like to lose control. Grimmjow waited until he ran out of steam, and when the moon finally showed behind Kurosaki’s fading reiatsu, he sought the visored out. He tracked him with the earpiece Szayel had given all the Espada, waiting a moment to be sure he wasn’t going to go anywhere. With la sangre at his disposal, he could be literally anywhere in seconds.
 
Grimmjow stepped into sonido, crossing the desert to one of those pyramids Kurosaki had made from the sand. He still hadn’t gone anywhere, and he knew the visored would have sensed him coming.
 
He flashed into sight at the top of the pyramid, just in his peripheral to be safe. Kurosaki was still breathing hard, his sword stuck into the ground beside him. He didn’t recognize it at first, then he realized he was looking at his bankai.

Don’t let him out of your sight.

Zangetsu’s words were haunting him. Kurosaki looked angry, but there was something else there that he might not have noticed before. Kurosaki was sad. Not the kind of sadness he would expect from the loss of something material, this went deeper, enough to scrape his soul. This was loss.

“Hey,” said Grimmjow.
 
Kurosaki didn’t look at him, but he answered, voice hoarse. “Hey.”
 
“You done?”
 
The visored sighed, pulling his Zanpakuto from the ground. “Yeah...yeah, I’m done.” He fell out of bankai, his swords separating back into two. He sheathed then both, his breathing getting under control, and sat heavily, swiping his hand over his face in exhaustion.
 
Grimmjow realized where the problem lay. “You can’t control people.”
 
“Goddammit, Grimmjow, I know that,” hissed Kurosaki.
 
His voice broke a little near the end, and Grimmjow gave him a moment before he asked, “You were at it for awhile, did that do anything?”
 
“You mean, did I hurt her?” Kurosaki answered, voice thick with derision. “No…no I didn’t, but this was a mistake. If she had any doubts she had someone important to me, they’re gone now.”
 
Important. Grimmjow asked, “Are you going to take him back?”
 
Kurosaki laughed, but it was an agonized sound, and Grimmjow found he hated it. “Take him back? Bastard probably

wants

to be there. There’s nothing I can do.

Typical

.”
 
Grimmjow frowned. “You’re far from helpless.”
 
“Fine, I’ll give you that,” Kurosaki admitted, “but when it boils down to what matters, it’s never enough. I could have tried harder-”
 
“Fuck you, I’ve never seen anyone try so hard in my life.

Relax,

Kurosaki, you did all you could.”
 
Kurosaki rounded on him. “Relax?!”
 
Grimmjow stiffened, his instincts tensing for attack. He hadn’t seen Kurosaki move, he was sitting, and then he wasn’t. The visored noticed his fear, and guilt settled on his expression. Kurosaki ran his hands through his hair and turned away. He muttered, “I’m calm.” Grimmjow wasn’t sure if that was meant for him, his inner spirits, or himself.
 
He knew Kurosaki hadn’t meant to startle him, but it begged the question. “How much are you holding back?”
 
Kurosaki let out a slow breath, turning back to face him. The visored was there, and then he wasn’t, his hand on his shoulder from behind.
 
Grimmjow hadn’t seen anything; this wasn’t sonido or shunpo, this was simply raw speed. His eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists. “Damn you, Kurosaki.” Just when he thought he had a handle on him, he turned all of that upside down.
 
Kurosaki took his hand away, and Grimmjow turned to face him, noting the guilt on his face. “Why do you hide it, why do you pretend to be weak?” It was patronizing, he couldn’t stand it, or that guilt on his face. DAMN HIM.
 
“Because it scares people.” Kurosaki really did look calm, even if it seemed forced. “It’s okay to be scared, it’s only instinct.”
 
Grimmjow deflected the conversation away from himself. “And you’re

still

not stronger than that cunt?”
 
“Adaliz? Possibly, if she won’t face me herself, but Alteza is weaker than die
Königin, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”
 
“Nothing?”
 
“She has thousands of years on Alteza, it’s all I can do to hold her at bay.” Kurosaki stepped up to the edge of the platform, sitting again on the stairs. “Without a host, both Alteza and
die
Königin are practically useless. I don’t know why, not do I pretend to know, but for centuries, Alteza was without a host. And that makes Alteza weak.”
 
That he was admitting his weakness to him meant something to Grimmjow. This didn’t often happen, Kurosaki didn’t usually share. Grimmjow asked, “If she’s so strong, why is she after your Quincy friend?”
 
“I don’t know,” growled Kurosaki. “to spite me? Or perhaps there’s a real reason. I just don’t know.”
 
“Is he strong?” Grimmjow asked.
 
“Ishida? About as strong as you, or Ulquiorra.”
 
That only explained a little, getting information out of Kurosaki was worse than pulling teeth. Yylfordt had fought Ishida, but he hadn’t won; the Quincy was smart, resourceful, and now he was siding with the enemy. He could see why Kurosaki would be angry. Grimmjow asked, “What will you do, then?”
 
“What can I do?” Kurosaki said. “Wait. I can’t leave, and even if I could, what would I do? Ishida made his choice.” Grimmjow thought he heard resignation in his voice, but he didn’t think Kurosaki had given up so easily. The visored gestured at the sky. “As for

that

, nothing’s changed; Adaliz has the advantage and she knows it. Unless she gets sloppy, I’m at her mercy until she makes a move.”
 
Grimmjow could see how it grated on Kurosaki to admit he was nearly defenseless. He couldn’t blame the visored, he didn’t do well at the end of a chain, he’d rather hang himself with it than be at someone else’s mercy. From what Kurosaki had to say, if he’d been forced into being Aizen’s lapdog, he wouldn’t have survived the next few years. Seems Aizen wasn’t amused by his attitude. “You weren’t supposed to exist at all, right? You’ve gotta be at least

annoying

. That’s better than nothing.”
 
He thought he saw a grin on the visored’s face, he was always proud of himself for wrenching one of those out of Kurosaki, he was just about always in a bad mood, and it was a goddamned challenge to get him to smile outside of a fight.
 
Kurosaki stared at him for a long moment, he’d gotten use to him doing that. When he did that, it made him wonder if he was seeing him, or someone that never existed, someone dead. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, not for either of them, but neither acknowledged those moments ever came to pass.
 
The visored finally blinked, looking away, and said, “You’re probably right.” He dropped out of hollowfication, and Grimmjow wished he hadn’t. He looked away, but too late, he still caught the look on his face. He’d only ever seen that look when he was at his wit’s end or still struggled to separate his nightmares from reality. He hated witnessing those moments of weakness, they shattered the illusion he’d built up around Kurosaki. He was powerful, but he wasn’t untouchable.
 
Kurosaki sat again on the steps of the temple, leaning forward on his knees. Grimmjow wasn’t sure if his presence was helpful or not, but he was

there

. Surely that counted for something? He asked, “You good?”
 
He knew Kurosaki heard him, but it took him a minute to answer. “As I can be.” His shoulders shook with a wry chuckle. “You’ve been talking to Zangetsu.”
 
Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, feeling caught. “What of it? It’s not like I can make him shut the fuck up.”
 
“Relax,” said Kurosaki, “I’m not accusing you. He wants what’s best for me, even at the risk of everyone around me.” He ran his hands through his hair, his voice flat. “Why are you here?”
 
Hands tightening in his pockets, Grimmjow shifted to the defensive. “I ain’t scared of you.”
 
“Why, Grimmjow?”
 
“You’re afraid you’ll attack me?”’Attack’ wasn’t the most accurate word, it’s what happened

after

that attack. Kurosaki could hurt him, kill him, but his pride wouldn’t let him voice his own weakness so blatantly. Grimmjow knew he was helpless before him, and the longer he spent around him, the harder that truth was hammered home. So why did he keep coming back?
 
Kurosaki scoffed lightly. “I already have.” He asked, “Why is it always you? Not even Nel will get this close.”

Stop asking.

“Maybe I’m stupid.”
 
There shouldn’t have been so much ice behind such normally warm eyes, but the look Kurosaki shot him sent a shiver up his spine. He snapped, “I ain’t here because Zangetsu asked me to be, or for my health...I don’t know why I’m here.” He really didn’t know, he wouldn’t let himself think about it. Before, he’d been driven by the desire to kill him, to win, to be king. Now, he wasn’t sure.
 
Kurosaki studied him, then huffed. “At least I can always count on you to be honest.”
 
Grimmjow changed the subject. “Why did you drop hollowfication?”
 
Kurosaki’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh. “Believe it or not, I wiped myself out.”
 
“You’re

tired

?”
 
“Pushing back Adaliz, firing off my strongest attack for hours--

yeah

, I’m tired.”
 
Well, when he worded it like that. Grimmjow couldn’t help but wonder if his tantrum put them all at risk, he’d never really considered that before. Without realizing it, he’d started to rely on Kurosaki, and it bothered him that he didn’t know when that had started.
 
That got him thinking about it from Kurosaki’s perspective. If he was as tired as he claimed, that was as good a weakness as any, and Kurosaki hated showing weakness. “Is that why you’re all the way out here?” The visored stiffened almost imperceptibly, but Grimmjow noticed. “You don’t trust us.”
 
Kurosaki glanced back, bemused. “That’s not true, I trust you.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t know what to say to that, so he ignored it. “Even exhausted, you could take out any arrancar in Las Noches if you sneezed too hard, why do you do this?” Hide, isolate himself, he didn’t understand.
 
“You know the answer to that. This might sound arrogant, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
 
Grimmjow snorted softly and muttered,  “It isn’t arrogance if it’s true.” If he was comparing Kurosaki to Aizen, he wasn’t arrogant in the slightest. His arrogance came from believing he could control the people around him. “I’ve never seen you hurt anyone that wasn’t asking for it.”
 
“I had my arm

through

your chest.” Kurosaki countered.
 
Grimmjow said, “And I shot you in the face with a cero. Besides, that shit doesn’t count, nobody was home when you got me. Why are you so paranoid?”
 
Kurosaki’s lips tugged into a tight frown. He always got that look on his face when things didn’t go his way. “I...there was a time that I didn’t know how to control my power at all, I was worse than Starrk. Just by existing, I ran the risk of killing people. Soul Society didn’t trust me, and I couldn’t even touch my family. My unofficial exile was mostly self imposed, I needed to get my power under control.”
 
Grimmjow could see there was a lot that went unsaid, that he’d gotten the words out at all was something of a miracle. “Just a risk? Clearly you managed it.” Even with so little of the story, that explained his issue with touching. Most of the time when he touched anyone, it was with the intent to kill, the rest of the time he was very deliberate and careful.
 
“Not entirely.” Kurosaki said. He got to his feet and reached out, poking Grimmjow right in the forehead. He grinned. “You have no idea how long it took before I could do that.”
 
The Espada went cross eyed to track his finger, his expression twisting into an annoyed grimace before he jerked back. Knowing he was so weak that if Kurosaki wasn’t careful he could kill him just by standing there was disappointing to learn. “How did you manage it, then?”
 
Kurosaki tilted his head, wincing. “I didn’t. I kept fighting, and Aizen kept evolving. He kept getting stronger, and so did I.” He ran his hand through his hair again, looking out at Las Noches. “To the point that--well, Kisuke figured this out, not me, I don’t really understand it...my power doesn’t only exist where you can’t sense it, it went beyond that. It doesn’t affect you until I will it to happen, until I pull it down to your level.”
 
Grimmjow had wondered about that. Even without being able to feel his power, it prickled his nerves in a way nothing but mortal danger ever could. “

That’s

what you’re doing?” He shook that thought away, remembering what he initially wanted to know. “You’re deflecting.”
 
“And

you

don’t?”
 
Ignoring that, Grimmjow circled back. “Who did you hurt?”
 
Kurosaki’s expression fell. “Ishida, Inoue, Yoruichi, Rukia, Ukitake, Jushiro, Toshiro...Isshin, and a number of people whose names I never knew.”
 
He hadn’t been expecting such a well prepared answer. “You remember them all?”
 
Kurosaki’s eyes narrowed. “How could I not? Sometimes it was an accident, sometimes it was almost intentional.” His tone was contemptuous. “I get angry, I fuck up.”
 
“No shit.”
 
Kurosaki gave him a withering look, but he seemed more at ease than before. “I almost killed Ishida. I stabbed him, and it was sheer luck I didn’t sever his spine. I nearly eviscerated a shinigami that got in my way, I almost suffocated my own allies with my reiatsu more than once, I would have killed a recruit that got just a little too close if Orihime hadn’t been there to heal them. The list goes on, but honestly, you get it.”
 
Grimmjow could only come to one conclusion. “You don’t trust yourself?”
 
“Obviously. About how well do you think it would go over if the rest knew I didn’t trust if I was going to kill them or not?”
 
Grimmjow hadn’t actually given it much thought. He knew Kurosaki had problems with nightmares, that he got twitchy, angry, but did he really have such little control? He said, “You don’t seem to have a problem with me knowing.”
 
Kurosaki let out a quiet snort in humor. “The depends on what you mean by ‘problem.’” He lifted and dropped his shoulder in a shrug. ”I’d prefer it if you didn’t, but I didn’t have much choice.”
 
Grimmjow remembered. He still half expected to feel the pain when he moved, yet there was absolutely no evidence left that Kurosaki had nearly killed him. Despite the risk, he couldn’t think of another place he’d rather be. “Well...you seem fine now.”
 
Kurosaki thought about that before he answered, “Good enough.” His eyes returned to the sky, and the look of pure hatred on his face made Grimmjow once again question his own sanity for showing up at all.
 
“The Quincy, Ishida, is he an enemy now?”
 
The visored shook his head. “I really don’t know. Compared to the Ishida I knew, our relationship is far more strained, I don’t know if he would willingly join them or not.” He looked at Grimmjow, expression hardening as he came to a decision. “If you’re asking if he’s fair game if he points a weapon at you, then yes.”
 
Grimmjow felt a flash of anger, curling his lips into a snarl. “You think I need your

permission

? You think I’d turn down a fight?”
 
“If I asked you to? Yes.”
 
His voice was steady, he looked so certain of it. His confidence pissed Grimmjow off. “You don’t know that.”
 
The visored took a step closer, facing him fully. “I know it’s your nature to dig in your heels and resist every little thing that’s thrown your way, but keep in mind how little I’ve forced you to do anything.”
 
Grimmjow clenched his teeth in annoyance, the bastard was right. He had only outright refused twice, and he’d only forced him to comply once.
 
Kurosaki sighed, an edge of exasperation in his voice. “Ishida is distant family, and he’s a friend. Ideally, you wouldn’t fight each other at all, but if it comes down to it, I wouldn’t stop you, you’re both plenty capable of making your own choices.”
 
Grimmjow ventures, “If we fought...and I killed him, then what?”
 
“I really don’t know.” He searched Grimmjow for something, and asked, “Afraid I’ll kill you?”
 
“Don’t pretend I have a choice when I don’t.” Kurosaki couldn’t sit there and pretend he would be perfectly fine with it if he tried to kill Ishida.
 
Kurosaki watched him for an uncomfortable moment, then said, “There’s a very small number of people I want to live, and I would go out of my way too sure they stay alive; You’re one of them. I was only being honest, Grimmjow. You have a choice.”
 
Grimmjow was still under the impression killing Ishida would be a death sentence. From Kurosaki’s reaction to hearing Ishida was missing, he almost couldn’t believe that. If he crossed him, he didn’t think he should expect to scrape by unscathed. Even so, would he even want to kill Ishida? He didn’t want to see that pathetic look on Kurosaki’s face again, and he didn’t want to be the cause of it either. He growled, “It’s all hypothetical anyways, who cares?”
 
Kurosaki smiled stiffly. “True.” He reached for his Zanpakuto, but he didn’t draw it. Grimmjow noticed he did that when he wanted reassurance, but for what, Kurosaki never shared. He said, “I’m fine.”
 
That was a subtle push to ask him to leave if he ever heard it. Grimmjow ignored that hidden request and sat down, no matter how much it rankled his nerves to do it. He trusted Kurosaki in a way, but he did still have self preservation instincts, and Kurosaki was the biggest threat in Las Noches, Hueco Mundo, and likely in most of the three worlds. “Sure you are.” He managed not to sound sarcastic, he was proud of that.
 
Kurosaki hadn’t been ‘fine’ in all the time he’d known him, but that was okay. He was strong, but he had flaws, and he was willing to turn a blind eye to save his pride, he understood what it was like.

--- xxx ---
 
Urahara Kisuke

There weren’t many things Kisuke could admit to

not knowing

, but the Soul King was an enigma. Every shinigami knew he...it? Existed. What they never learned were the details of his purpose. He held the worlds together? How? Why did Central 46 forbid investigation and inquiry? It wasn’t just a mystery, now it was a problem.
 
If he was to understand this, the Ōken was needed to even cross into the dimension where the Soul King was kept, but this was a rule of the universe that shinigami were forced to abide by. That rule might not apply to someone like Kurosaki, who existed on a plane where no one could even sense him. If that was true for Kurosaki, it might also be true for Adaliz.
 
Kurosaki had exhausted all of his resources, which included mental access to what amounted to a God, and he still knew very little. It was frustrating, worse, it might be fatal. Knowledge was power, and they were embarrassingly ignorant.
 
Yoruichi was his eyes and ears in Soul Society, but even she was finding the nobles and Central to be a hard nut to crack. They were either tight lipped or just as ignorant as they were, but she wasn’t the former leader of the Onmitsukidō for nothing; she heard whispers, found trails to follow. Pooling their combined knowledge wasn’t enough, but it was a start.
 
What he really needed was to borrow an arrancar. He wasn’t about to send human teenagers to do reconnaissance in Soul Society. Technically he’d been more than willing to send them in to invade, but those were special circumstances. Aizen had done wonders to ripping apart the foundations of Seireitei, he’d left them in pieces. He might not have had the same motivations as Adaliz, but he shared her goal. That was most likely the reason why she left him alone for so many years. He’d done her work for her, and now Kurosaki was in her way.  
 
He tapped the letter on the table, thoughtful.
 
“Passing notes with Kurosaki again?”
 
Kisuke looked up at Hirako, who leaned casually on the threshold of the door. The visored had been coming by more and more frequently to get in on the loop, and he was getting almost too familiar with his presence. Kisuke sighed. “Adaliz is a hindrance, and Kurosaki may not approve of what I’m planning without…careful persuasion.” He gave Hirako a pointed look. “A letter might not be enough.”
 
The visored’s face pinched into a frown. “Ya can’t possibly want

me

to try? I’m not what you would call persuasive.”
 
“Kurosaki-san knows you much better now than he did before, he’ll listen to you.”
 
“Oh he’ll

hear

me, but will he listen? Kurosaki can be stubborn. Why don’t you go?”
 
Kisuke stood, slipping the letter into a pocket. He said, “For one, I’m a busy man, and for another, you have more in common with him. You’re the better choice.”
 
With Ishida missing, he could only imagine the mood Kurosaki was in. He didn’t know him very well in this timeline, but he’d been almost obsessive in his need to protect his friends. If that sentiment was cultivated and twisted over the years ashe expected, he didn’t want to be there when that was threatened. For better or for worse, the visored felt safer around hollows.
 
Hirako looked to where he’d hidden away the note, then asked, “What are you even trying to convince him to do?”
 
“I want to borrow Nelliel.”
 
Hirako nodded, familiar with her. “His go-between. What for?”
 
Kisuke answered breezily. “To find the Quincy.” He stepped past him and started down the hall to his lab. It was the one place off limits to everyone. The exception to that rule was Yoruichi, but he couldn’t keep her out if he tried, and he did. He saw it as a sort of challenge.
 
“Isn’t that usually Yoruichi’s thing?”
 
“She’s busy trying to locate the Soul King, which is equally as important. That beside, an arrancar is the best person for the job, they’re inherent opposites of Quincy. If someone was going to find them, it would be another Quincy, or an arrancar.”
 
“And we’re a little short on Quincy, I get it.” Hirako scratched his head. “Why Nelliel?”
 
Kisuke paused outside the door to his lab, turning to face Hirako. “She’ll blend in with humans, and I have every reason to believe the Quincy are hiding in the living world.” He stared at him, then changed his mind on something, removing the letter and handing it to him. “I’ll send Nelliel to you. In the meantime, hang on to that, it’s for Kurosaki.”
 
Hirako unfolded it, scanning it with a frown. “This is gibberish.”
 
Of course he could resist trying to read it. “
R'lyehian. Close enough.” He explained, “If somehow Soul Society intercepts a letter, they won’t be able to read it, but because of the nature of Kurosaki’s circumstances, he can.” He wouldn’t expect Kurosaki to learn an entirely new language practically overnight.
 
“Was going to say,” said Hirako, “Kurosaki didn’t seem like the book learnin’ type.”
 
“That’s a fair assumption.” From the way Isshin talked about his son, he was smarter than he let on. It was a shame his life was cut so short. Then again, life wasn’t fair, and the afterlife was even worse. “Keep it, she’ll be back soon. Kurosaki won’t be happy about losing his liaison with the living world, nor will he be happy about sending one of his best to sniff around for an enemy.”
 
Hirako tapped the note against his chin, looking up in thought. “Wait...if she’s supposed to be able to find them, why won’t they sense her coming and kill her?”
 
“Because I’m going to make her a gigai to mask her presence.”
 
“Annnnd, she’ll agree to this? She’s nice an’ all, but suicidal?”
 
Kisuke smiled. “I make very convincing gigai, and you’re going to learn to be persuasive.”

--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading guys!
  
--- xxx ---

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
“Wait, you want to send Nel

where

?” Ichigo glared over the note at Hirako, but he didn’t seem cowed. Seems the visored finally realized he was all bark and no bite, at least where his friends were concerned.
 
Hirako frowned. “Not me, Kisuke.”
 
“Fine.

Where do you want her to go?

”
 
Hirako answered in a matter-of-fact way. “Living World.”
 
“I’m not sure if you noticed, but the world is

massive

,” Ichigo hissed.
 
“

Hey

, don’t shoot the messenger.”
 
Nel raised her hand, interjecting in a small voice. “I like Living World.”
 
“Noted,” growled Ichigo. “How does he know she can even sense a Quincy?”
 
“That’s why he said she should practice on you.”
 
“Me?”
 
Hirako rolled his eyes. “Yes

you

, hybrid ultra weapon

sama

. You’re part Quincy.”
 
That was true, but he wouldn’t say he was confident in that part of his heritage. Far from it.
 
“Did you even finish reading the note?” Hirako accused.
 
Ichigo frowned back at the sheet, then Hirako. He snapped the paper taut and continued reading. Hiroku let out an over exaggerated sigh.
 
Hirako was right, the cocky bastard, Kisuke outlined all he’d need to know. In fact, they were more detailed than he would have expected, but he chalked it up to the language he’d written the note in; there was next to no chance anyone would be able to read it but him and Kusuke. If he thought too hard about it, the knowledge would slip away, but if he accepted it as his reality, he could read it just fine.
 
He finished the note and turned his frown onto Hirako once again. “What’s going to stop the Quincy from sensing her?”
 
“A gigai.”
 
Ichigo’s doubt intensified.  
 
“Kisuke swears up and down it’ll work. Do you doubt his handiwork?”
 
He didn’t, but this sounded risky even in the best light. Ichigo wasn’t excited about this idea, but if this was all Kisuke had, he knew he couldn’t do better. “This is all pointless if she can’t sense a Quincy.”
 
Nel chimed in. “So let me try.”
 
He incinerated the note with his reiatsu and grit his teeth. “Fine. Give me a second.”
 
“What for?” asked Hirako.
 
Nel answered, “He’s bad at it.”
 
“Oh ho! Something

you’re

shit at? This I need to see.”
 
Ichigo huffed. “Shut up and let me concentrate.” It helped that he wasn’t hollowfied. He reached for his power, for the reishi in the air. He did it just the way Ishida taught him. Ishida...

“Focus, Ichigo.”

The mental nudge helped. He reached with his mind to form the reishi in his hand. It hissed and sparked, far from stable, but it was solid enough, and it was inherently a Quincy technique. He formed it into a sword made out of light. A sword was more familiar to him than a bow, and after numerous failed attempts, Ishida had gotten frustrated and let him do whatever he wanted. The result was a cross between his bankai and shikai, if you squinted.
 
He opened his eyes and looked to Nel. “Well?”
 
“Ummm, well I can see that you’re doing something, but I sense nothing, like usual.”
 
Hirako snorted. “You need to lower your reiatsu first, stupid.”
 
Ichigo scowled. “It’s not as easy as that sounds, okay?” He’dbeen hoping it might be different since he was reaching for his Quincy power, but it seemed to not be the case. He closed his eyes, letting the unstable combination of his reishi and reiatsu dissipate.

‘Ossan?’

“I can help you compress your reiatsu, much as we have before, but there’s only so much we can do.”

‘We? Zangetsu is going to help?’

“I have to, if you want to keep up the balance you’ve maintained since Adaliz started stomping on Hueco Mundo.”

‘I guess that makes sense.’

They began the painstaking process of lowering their reiatsu, opening his eyes to gauge the reaction of Shinji and Nel. They looked uncomfortable, then outright pressured when he brought it even lower. His first instinct was to reel it in close, to try to pull it away from them.

“No, spread it thin, it will be easier on your friends in the end.”

Ichigo trusted his judgement, and it seemed to work. The wider he spread his reiatsu, the easier it was for them to breathe. He warned, “Okay, I’m going to try again.”
 
Nel nodded, sweat noticeable on her brow, but she could breathe, they would both be okay.
 
Reaching again for the reishi around him, he compressed and formed it into a weapon, although this attempt was even sloppier than the last. Energy was lost, it spilled from his hand to the sand, struggling to maintain its form. It was a lot like fueling Kidou, but much more finicky. He wasn’t sure he could keep this up without it going boom in his face. He prompted Nel, the strain evident in his voice. “Well?”
 
Nel bit her lip. “I sense that you’re doing something this time, but it’s odd.” She shivered, glancing at Hirako. “Do you feel that?”
 
“I can sense that Kurosaki has the control of a drunk toddler.”
 
Ichigo grimaced. “Be serious.”
 
“I am, I sense a hell of a lot of unstable power, but all I sense is reiatsu, and reishi manipulation. You get the same feeling off some Kidou.” A pause. “Is this going to blow the fuck up?”
 
Ichigo ignored that question in favor of concentrating, Hirako wouldn’t like his answer anyway.
 
Nel shook her head. “No, I sense something else, something...bright. I don’t like it.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened. “You think you’re sensing das licht?”
 
“Maybe?” Nel folded her arms. “It makes my skin crawl.”
 
It sounded a lot like the way his shinigami friends had described hollow reiatsu to him. Oppressive, wrong, dark. It grated against their instincts in the same way Nel described. It stood to reason that what she was sensing was das licht, or some variation thereof. Ichigo shook the weapon away and let his reiatsu return to where it most comfortably idled at. He was proud of himself for not letting his reiatsu blow up in his face.
 
The two were briefly hammered by his reiatsu when he raised it back to the level it normally idled at, but they were prepared for it.
 
Hirako let out a heavy breath. “I’ll never get use to that. Feels fuckin’ weird Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo shrugged. “Can’t help that.”
 
“You don’t feel it?” Nel asked Ichigo.
 
“Das licht? I’ve never had the same reaction as anyone else when it comes to sensing power. Hollow reiatsu feels normal to me, so does Quincy power. With my own power dampening my senses, it’s hard enough, but I have a feeling

what

I am has a lot to do with that too.”
 
“Well,” started Nel, “we’ve established I can sense a Quincy...so can I go?”
 
Ichigo thought about it, turning his attention inward. ‘

Besides my own paranoia, there’s no reason not to let her go, is there?’

“It would be beneficial if you knew where the Quincy were hiding. The shinigami don’t know about them, but as far as we can see, no hollow has ever attempted to find them.”

“That’s a no, King.”

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. “Fine...work closely with Kisuke, and for fuck’s sake, be careful. Don’t engage if they notice you, and check in with

someone

, please.”
 
Nel flung her arms around him and squeezed him in a hug, his face pressed into her breasts. “Thank you! I’ll find them, I’ll be careful.”
 
Ichigo sighed, a faint blush on his cheeks as he untangled himself from her grip. “It’s not a vacation, calm down.”
 
She laughed, twirling in a celebratory circle. “Pesche is going to be so jealous!”
 
More like anxious. He couldn’t imagine Pesche was going to take it well, but it would be more conspicuous to send both of them. Nel was weird enough without Pesche there to aggravate it. “Once Kisuke has a gigai ready, you can go.”
 
She made a noise not unlike a squeal of delight. He carried on, emphasizing his words to get her attention. “Until then, shadow Hirako. The visored aren’t normal, but they’ve been in the living World for years, you could learn something.”
 
Hirako protested. “Hey, I’ll have you know I was the bowling champion of the year.”
 
Ichigo gave him a dry look.”What’s that supposed to prove?”
 
“I’m

normal

, we fit in!” Hirako sounded indignant.
 
Ichigo tried not to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, but none of you are

normal

. Look, you’re passable, show Nel what crosswalks are and how money works, I don’t want her to look like a time traveler.”
 
Hirako smirked. “Like you?”
 
“Shut up. I’ll send her your way once after I’m sure it’s safe.”
 
Hirako gave him a look and Ichigo added, “Safe

enough

.”
 
Nel was too busy fantasizing and babbling about all the things she wanted to do in living world. Ichigo let her have her fun, he was enough of a grouch without raining on her parade.
 
If Nel wanted to enjoy herself, he wouldn’t ruin it for her. Besides, she fit in more with humans, more than him anyways. He was violent, dangerous, and while she was far from tame, she had a peaceful, calm side that most hollows could never hope to achieve. As far as temperament went, it was hard to beat her.
 
Ichigo changed the subject. “How’s Hiyori?”
 
Hirako shrugged, but he had an answer ready regardless. “Not too different. Loud, obnoxious, but better. Her hollow’s settled down since you did...whatever it was that you did.”
 
“All I did was finish what Kisuke started. You know if the rest need something…”
 
“Yeah, I know,” said Hirako. “I’ll drag them here if I have to, it’s better than the alternative.”
 
Ichigo knew firsthand what dealing with a cranky inner hollow was like.
 
“

Hey, beating sense into you isn’t the same as being cranky.”

“Feels the same.’

“

See if I ever help you again.”

‘Psh, you will.’

Zangetsu has no answer for that, they both knew he was right. Ichigo opened a garganta with a sweep of his hand. Nel made to follow Hirako, but he caught her by the collar. “Hey, slow down, you’ll get to go soon, but not

right now.

”
 
She let out an aggravated sigh, then waved to Hirako. “See you soon!”
 
Hirako raised a hand in a little wave. “Sure thing.” Then he disappeared in a rush of shunpo.

--- xxx ---
 
Yoruichi
 
Her paws tapped lightly on the gold shingled roof, far too gently for human ears to register. She was invisible. At least, she might as well be. No one knew about her skill to shift into a cat outside of Kisuke and Ichigo and his friends. Despite how they had all grown use to her feline form, it was a well guarded secret, one that had slipped as of late, but not enough for nobel ears to catch wind of it. Not even Yamamoto knew.
 
The dinner party that carried on in the gardens below was no different from any other party she had ever spied on, except for one detail; the guests. There were two members present that were hopefuls for the new Central 46. After Aizen had gotten to them, the new Central had yet to be determined. Social votes were being cast, the game was still afoot, but these two were nearly a shoe in. With a long lineage of shinigami applicants and nobles on both sides of their family for centuries, they were a perfect fit.
 
She could care less about who kissed the most ass to end up in the lottery, but if she could get a foot in early, her chances of gathering information would skyrocket. She could always capture and torture, but then everyone and their mother

and

extended family would know someone was rooting around for information. That wouldn’t do.
 
She needed to be there when they passed on the torch, so to speak. Spying on them as a cat wouldn’t work for something so delicate, for that she would need to rely on Kidou.
 
Of every get-together and party and tea ceremony, nothing had ever happened, but today was different.
 
Her target and another noble, Hayashi, broke off from the rest, and she followed from the shadows. They left the light of the party entirely, walking through the gardens to the woods. They stopped in the dark, voices hushed, and she was too far away to hear them from where she crouched. She eased closer, and her fur bristled in surprise.
 
Hayashi stabbed her target in the heart. At first she thought the man had tripped when he sagged on his feet, she was so surprised to see it happen.

The noble stared in shock, then burst into light, coalescing into the blade. For a brief moment the blade glowed, then it faded, absorbing the man’s soul. The noble left standing spoke, but she couldn’t make out the words, and it was too dark to read his lips.
 
The man put the knife away, returning to the party as if nothing had happened at all. As he approached the house, she realized something was deeply wrong; it was silent. There was no small talk, no shuffle of activity.
 
She hurried ahead, slipping between bushes, carefully placing her paws to avoid disturbing the plants. The guests all stood in mutual silence facing the woods, waiting for Hayashi to return. They watched him expectantly, and she paused nearby to watch, her fur bristling in unease.
 
Hayashi produced the knife, and an elderly man stepped out to meet him. He bowed shallowly to each other and the murderer held out the knife in both hands. The elderly man took it and smiled. “Welcome to the forty six.”
 
She had the wrong target all along, and she had underestimated the depth of their secrecy.
 
The pair turned to go into the house and she was forced to follow from the outside, keeping to the shadows as she skirted past the windows. She finally found them from a skylight inside of a small shrine. A carved crystal sat on a pedestal in the room, and she was just in time to see him stab the dagger into it. The statue glowed, then went dark, but she sensed very little. It seemed to her that the man’s soul had suddenly disappeared, but that made no sense.
 
Kisuke would want to hear about this.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Ichigo dumped an armful if research equipment on the table and announced, “You’re going to be working closely with Urahara.” More likely the man would just be delegating work to Szayel, but it was easier on Szayel’s pride if he worded things more gently. He didn’t much care if he wounded his pride, but this would move a lot more smoothly if he didn’t.
 
Szayel raised a brow. “On what?”
 
“Finding the Soul King.”
 
Szayel scoffed. “He’s located within the Reiōkyū. Everyone knows that.”
 
“Yes,

thank you,

Szayel, I’m well aware of that. Do you know

where

that is?”
 
Szayel frowned. “Wouldn’t the shinigami know?”
 
“Apparently not. We thought we knew, but turns out all anyone knows are rumors and lies.” He flicked a metal box and it rang. “That’s why you’re going to be working with Urahara. You want to sense my energy so badly, here’s your chance to try.”
 
Szayel’s interest piqued. “What do

you

have to do with the Soul King?”
 
Ichigo parroted what Kisuke told him. “If he or it exists in a separate dimension no one can sense, it stands to reason it exists on a plane above, like my reiatsu.”
 
“Then, heika, shouldn’t

you

be able to find it?”
 
“I’ve never been very good at sensing things that don’t want to be found.” Szayel looked confused, so he explained, “I’m strong, sensing through my own power is like trying to find a raindrop in a hurricane.”
 
“Ah, I suppose that makes sense.” Szayel’s eyes glittered with intent and fascination, more than Ichigo had seen on him in awhile. He turned to the equipment, snapping for his fraccion. Ichigo realized this was the first time he’d ever seen them. They struggled to take the equipment apart, but then he realized they weren’t struggling, they just moved oddly. He didn’t want to wonder why.
 
Ichigo said, “Have at it, if you need something, tell me, I’ll send someone to get it.”  Ichigo turned to step out of the way of his fraccion and Szayel subtly reached out to touch, the scientist’s fingers straying too close to his upper arm. He grabbed his fingers before they could make contact, squeezing them in a bone creaking grip. Szayel smiled, and he realized he’d given the scientist what he wanted; he’d made him touch him.
 
Eyes narrowing in irritation, Ichigo dropped Szayel’s hand like he’d been burned, but that smug smile on Szayel’s face remained. “I look forward to the opportunity.

Heika

.” The emphasis was partly mocking, partly loaded with connotations Ichigo didn’t want to think about.
 
“Grimmjow will be checking up on you.” Szayel’s smile wavered, eyes narrowing. “Get over it.”
 
“He despises me,” argued Szayel.
 
“I’m not assigning someone else. He might hate you, but I trust he’ll do what I say. I can give Grimmjow an order, but if you piss him off, I can’t make promises about his temper.”
 
Szayel muttered, “It isn’t

his

temper that concerns me.”
 
Ichigo chose to ignore that. “Kisuke sent whatever you’ll need to set up permanent communication, tackle that first.” Szayel turned back to a small device Kisuke had sent, fussing with the exposed wires. “Follow Grimmjow’s orders.”
 
Szayel’s smirk widened. “I wouldn’t dream of deceiving you.” His tone was too rich in conviction to be genuine, but there wasn’t much Ichigo could punish him for. He was a prick, and no amount of threatening was going to change that. All he could do was watch him closely.
 
Ichigo left him to work and set out to explain to Grimmjow just what he wanted of him. The pantera wasn’t going to be happy about it, and he braced himself for a lot of swearing.
 
--- xxx ---

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Szayel had indeed figured out permanent communications, and in under 72 hours no less. Urahara seemed mildly impressed, but neither he nor Szayel could tell if he was being patronizing.
 
“Did I forget what?”
 
“The fireworks festival, Kurosaki-san!” chimed Urahara. That stupid fan was out again, hiding a grin a mile wide.
 
“What?” Ichigo crossed his arms, glad he’d sent Szayel away so he wasn’t feet away to eavesdrop. Kisuke assured him Szayel wouldn’t be able to record this, or listen in, and he believed him.
 
“Well, you’ve been stuck in Hueco Mundo for a few months now…”
 
It seemed like they were reaching for a holiday, for some excuse. He sighed. “When is it? I uhh, lost track of time.”
 
“Tomorrow,” he chimed. “You can’t come here, so Orihime-chan had the idea to come to you.”
 
His brows shot up. There was a name he hadn’t heard in awhile. “Inoue?”
 
“Ah. She thought you might be feeling a little down after what happened with Ishida.”
 
She thought

he

might be feeling down? He closed his eyes through an exasperated sigh. “I swear, that girl should worry more about herself.”
 
Kisuke hummed theatrically loud. “Oh my, I don’t think I can think of anyone else like that.”
 
“Shut up, geta-boshi. When then? Be specific.”
 
Kisuke made a show of checking the time, but Ichigo had a feeling he knew exactly how long without needing to look. “About 14 hours from now.”
 
Fourteen hours wasn’t that long. He frowned, asking, “Who’s coming?”
 
Kisuke looked up in thought. “Maaaa...everyone.”
 
“You can’t mean my sisters too.” No answer. He argued, “It isn’t safe.”
 
Kisuke smirked, giving him a chiding look. “Kurosaki-san, I can’t think of a place on this planet where they would be safer.”

“Honestly, king, who would be stupid enough to try to hurt them? And if they tried, we could get some practice in vaporizing someone.”

‘What if I can’t watch them? What if something happens?’

“Ya got friends, king. Use em’.”

That felt suspicious. He wondered if it was sad that he was suspicious of his own Zanpakuto. ‘

You seem unusually on board with this.’

“You have not been happy, Ichigo. Functioning, but not happy. Take a day, slow down for a minute.”

Kisuke noticed the pause. “Hollow-san agrees with me?”
 
“I don’t wanna hear it.” He dragged a hand over his face and folded his arms, brows drawn tight. “Fine, so long as they don’t come to Las Noches itself. Nel’s been going back and forth enough, I imagine she’s the one you conscripted to open you a garganta?”
 
He hid behind that damn fan again. “Well, she was kind enough to offer. She insists she can find you anywhere in Hueco Mundo, so the

where

shouldn’t be a problem.”
 
That was the end of it, leaving him to stress about something that shouldn’t stress him. He let Szayel back into his own lab, and from the grouchy tone he could only assume he hadn’t been able to listen in.

Good

.
 
He went back into Las Noches, and it wasn’t unusual that Grimmjow found him, he always found him. He was sitting overlooking Hueco Mundo, and it seemed even with his back to him, Grimmjow could tell he was in a mood.
 
Grimmjow demanded, “What now?”
 
“Nothing.”
 
There was only a short pause before Grimmjow went on knowingly. “Nevermind, I know what this is.”
 
Ichigo shot him a look and Grimmjow admitted, “Nel told me.”
 
He groaned. “Fuck, she can’t keep her mouth shut, can she?” There was no real venom in his words, he knew Nel would be Nel.
 
“Relax, Kurosaki, she only told me...maybe Harribel. I’m not sure.”
 
“

Great

.”
 
Grimmjow said, “Hey,

relax

. What’s the problem?”
 
Ichigo answered, “They’re all going to be in one place.”
 
“Yeeeeaah? Isn’t that the fuckin’ point?”
 
Ichigo looked up to see that snarky look on his face and frowned. “Don’t get smart with me.”
 
Grimmjow snorted, nudging him with a toe. “

Goddamn

, you’re scared?” He laughed, nearly kicking him over now that his whole foot was planted between his shoulders. “You’re scared!”
 
Ichigo reached around and grabbed his foot and stood, just about throwing Grimmjow down, but the Espada was more agile than that. He stole his foot back and laughed harder. Ichigo groused, “What’s so damn funny?”
 
Grimmjow was just about fighting tears. He answered breathlessly, “Big, bad Kurosaki is scared of little girls.”
 He snorted, defending his sisters. “Hey, they’re not so little anymore. Karin’s already up and killing hollows and Yuzu’s practically oyaji’s assistant at the clinic now.” 
Grimmjow had his laughter under control, but he deadpanned, “You’re scared of girls. Why? They’re family, aren’t they?”
 
“It’s just a lot of...expectation.”
 
“Expectation?”
 
Ichigo explained, “They’re expecting someone that doesn’t exist anymore.”
 
“Oh. Time travel. It’s hard to remember that shit.”
 
Ichigo winced. “Yeah, time travel. It’s confusing.” It was hard to remember that the only one that knew, the only proof that existed, was himself. He was quiet a moment, then asked, “Will you go?”
 
Grimmjow fidgeted. “What kind of question is that?”
 
He was evading again, Ichigo could only assume his answer. “You don’t want to go.”
 
Grimmjow snapped, “Don’t fuckin’ put words in my mouth, Kurosaki.”
 
“Nel will be there, you don’t have to.”
 
“Do you want me to go?”
 
Ichigo swore and stood. “This is stupid.” He got one step into leaving before Grimmjow reached to grab him. Ichigo let him, and it startled both of them.
 
Grimmjow let go, so surprised he’d touched him at all, it looked like he’d nearly forgotten why he stopped him in the first place. He blinked and said, “I’ll be there.” He asked, “Why is it always me?”
 
It was a strange sort of trust. Ichigo trusted Grimmjow, but he clearly didn’t understand why. “I know what to expect from you.”
 
“You trust me with your family? That’s stupid.”
 
Ichigo finally smiled. “My family isn’t delicate, it’s more like I’m trusting them with you.”
 
Grimmjow scowled. “Should I be insulted?”
 
He laid some bait. “You might get to sparr.”
 
The Espada lit up at the prospect of a fight. “Really?”
 
And Nel and his father would be there to supervise, including himself; how bad could it be?
 
--- xxx ---
 
Ichigo didn’t think Hueco Mundo was the best place to host a...party? Get-together? But he’d tried his best. He  la sangre and formed the sand into tables and chairs, which turned out to be more like round tree stumps. La sangre could be delicate in the right hands, but he wasn’t Ishida, and his knowledge of architecture was limited. At least the girls wouldn’t have to sit in the sand or on ruins.
 
Grimmjow was sat before him as he paced until he growled, “Sit, Kurosaki, you’re makin’ me anxious.”
 
“Tough.”
 
“Y’know what…” Grimmjow stood, drawing Pantera with a shiver of steel. “Fuck this.” He attacked him from behind, not that that was unusual. Ichigo caught the blade before it hit him in the shoulders without needing to look, then turned to face him, letting it go. Grimmjow snapped, “I’m tired of watching you pace.”
 
The Espada lunged for him, fast enough to make Ichigo draw his short blade. Their weapons slid, grating as Ichigo pushed his sword off. Ichigo felt a grin on his face. “Fine, why not?”
 
Grimmjow smiled, pleased he was getting his way. So often, Ichigo put his foot down and wouldn’t fight, but he’d caught him in the right mood, he had a lot of extra energy he needed to work out, and he had some time to do it.
 
Ichigo got inside his guard, his sword splitting his cheek just before Grimmjow could raise Pantera to deflect it. The Espada growled, aware he’d only managed to block because Ichigo timed it that way. He went at Ichigo with all new vigor as Ichigo blocked and parried, urging, “Release your sword, this is hardly fair.”
 
Grimmjow looked annoyed, but that was par the course. Ichigo sheathed his sword and raised his hands. “

Now

it’s fair.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “Cocky asshole. Grind! Pantera!” There was hardly any lag at all between the release of his sword and his first swipe. This was more like it. Grimmjow wasn’t his strongest with a blade, he’d always been a brawler, at heart and in skill. If he didn’t have sheer speed and pure power over Grimmjow, he’d be a real threat.
 
His own hakuda was primarily a mix of street fighting and improvisation, he and Grimmjow were similar in style, and it made things interesting. They kept their exchange of attacks fast, keeping it to close quarters, Ichigo letting Grimmjow land his attacks only as much as he would in a real fight. His blut vene and his hierro protected him, but he fought like they wouldn’t. Grimmjow thought he didn’t respect him enough to fight for keeps, but he had no idea. Even if he told him how much he kept him on his toes, the prideful idiot wouldn’t believe him.
 
Their fight escalated from a somewhat leisurely pace, to fast and brutal enough that Ichigo had to be careful to pull his punches so he wouldn’t break bone. Grimmjow was pressuring him without even being in segunda etapa, it was hard to hold back. He was proud of him, and it showed in the feral smile on his face.
 
Even holding back, the pressure from his reiatsu split Grimmjow’s knuckles and sliced through his hierro on his lower arms. He didn’t think the Espada would be so happy if he didn’t end up a little beat up after the fact. He was dripping blood, a manic smile on his face when Ichigo felt the garganta open.
 
Grimmjow stopped mid swing, but his momentum still carried him into Ichigo. Ichigo caught his arm, twisting to face the garganta while Grimmjow struggled to take his arm back. He caught sight of her bright orange hair against the dark, and she waved at him, a wide smile on her face. “Inoue!”
 
“Kurosaki-kun!”
 
She tripped at the end of the garganta and would have fallen on her face if Chad hadn’t been there to catch her and set her on her feet.
 
Grimmjow wrestled his arm free and dropped out of resurreccion, sheathing Pantera with a grumble. Inoue trotted towards them both, eyes widening. “Grimmjow-san you’re bleeding!”
 
“Just a little, stop screeching, onna!”
 
Inoue lifted her hand to her hairclips, and the light of Shun Shun Rikka glowed over Grimmjow. He batted at it, but she was determined, and far more like the Orihime he remembered. She rejected his injuries, even putting his clothes back together. He griped, but she was just as adamant, struggling to get him to stay still. Nel helped her out, threatening to hug him if he didn’t stop squirming.
 
He didn’t stop, and they were treated to an earful of colorful swearing as Nel crushed him in a painful looking bear hug.
 
Ichigo let them be, turning back to see Chad, Tatsuki, and his father and sisters. Karin ignored Isshin’s attempts to help her down, hopping out of the garganta with ease. Yuzu accepted the help with a dainty grace only his mother could have possessed, then crossed the distance between them in a run, throwing herself into his arms. “Ichi-nii!!!”
 
He squeezed her tight and apologized, “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you like I promised.”
 
She struggled to answer through tears. “It’s okay, you have important things to do, Nel-san told us. I just missed you.”
 
He ruffled her hair. “I know, I missed you too.”
 
He looked over her head to his father, unsure what to expect.
 
Isshin sounded indignant. “What, no hug for your old man?”
 
That was all it took; his anxiety was gone, brushed away like it never even was. The routine was easy, familiar. He shrugged off his father’s over-ambitious antics and talked to Yuzu and Karin, just like always. He might have changed, but something stayed the same.
 
Tatsuki ended up talking with Grimmjow, of all people, and they got to sparring. Grimmjow was uncharacteristically gentle, he had to be with Nel hovering over them both and Ichigo less than ten feet away.

He talked to Karin about school, soccer, and they were all interrupted by Chad joining in. One punch from el directo and the desert behind Grimmjow was cleared out for over a mile. “Yo, Kurosaki! You should bring your friends more often, hot damn!”
 
Ichigo called back. “Don’t break each other!” He has no doubt Grimmjow had “invited” Chad to hit him with everything he had. Crazy bastard.
 
Inoue raised her hand. “If you do, I’ll put you back together! Left for rainstorms.”
 
Nel said, “What?”
 
Tatsuki clarified, “That’s ‘right as rain’, Inoue.”
 
Inoue blushed, but she looked enamored. “Oh! Tatsuki-chan is so smart!”
 
Tatsuki sighed. “Everyone knows that one, Inoue.” She spun and ducked when Grimmjow advanced on her, narrowly missing a right hook. Figured Grimmjow would take advantage in a lull in conversation. She sprung off the ground, and in a complex maneuver Ichigo had only seen on tv, wrapped her legs around his head and had him down on the ground in a heartbeat.  
 
Grimmjow laughed, swiping for her, but she had already bounced back. “Slippery bitch.” There was no malice in his tone, only a bit of excitement and shockingly, respect, so Ichigo let them be.
 
His father asked, “He’s fine?”
 
He said it like he’d just let a dangerous dog out to play with children. Ichigo shrugged off his concern. “He wouldn’t dare, not with all of us right here, armed.”
 
“But he’s-”
 
An arrancar? Ichigo cut him off. “He wouldn’t do that. Look at him, he’s having fun. They all are.” Even Nel was participating, though mostly as moral support, she seemed to enjoy cheering on Chad. Yuzu was talking animatedly with Inoue, and Karin had teamed up with Chad to try to get in Grimmjow’s blind spot. That left him and his father to talk alone.
 
His father’s tone turned a touch more serious. “You trust him?”
 
“He wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. He’s violent, sure, but it isn’t mindless violence. If it came down to it, I’d trust him to protect Yuzu and Karin. Nel too, but I think that’s obvious, she adores them.”
 
There was a pause, and his father asked, “What do you mean by that?”
 
Ichigo let out a slow breath. “What I said. If something happens, I know my priorities will become their priorities.”
 
“You can’t know that,” Isshin argued.
 
“I do. I know Grimmjow, and I know Nel. If I asked them to do something, they would do it, they already have.” He already trusted them with his life, and if that needed to grow to extend to his sisters, it would. “You have to see that; he’s pulling his punches, but he’s staying at their level, he’s keeping it challenging. He talks a lot of shit, but he likes them. If something happened to me, he’d protect them.”
 
“You talk like you’re expecting it to.”
 
“It already has. I can feel Adaliz’s power, she’s strong, stronger than me. I’m used to punching up, but this is…” He trailed off, unwilling to finish that sentence. He didn’t mean to say that, he was supposed to reassure his family, not worry them. “You didn’t come here to listen to me agonize over things I can’t change.”
 
“Ichigo…”
 
“Tsk, don’t give me that, old man.” He didn’t like hearing the defeat in his voice, it sounded foreign. He changed the subject, his eyes lingering on Grimmjow and the others. “Y’know I never did get to spar with you.”
 
Isshin scratched his chin. “That never happened in the future? Huh.”
 
“Nah. I know your Zanpakuto’s name is Engetsu, but that’s about it.” He shrugged. “Aside from your usual bullshit.”
 
Isshin pouted. “It’s not bullshit, it’s hakuda.”
 
Ichigo reached for the hilt of the khyber blade. “Alrighty, so let’s see if you’re rusty.”
 
“Think you can beat your old man?” Isshin reached for Engetsu, a cocky smirk spreading across his face.

“I dunno, let’s see.” Ichigo’s smirk was a mirror of his father’s, drawing Zangetsu. His blade shivered in excitement, a feeling he wholeheartedly shared. He’d fought his father nearly every day, but he wouldn’t call that sparring. This was different, more purposeful. His father only got to train him for a slim number of days, and he’d call that rushed at best. He’d tried to teach him Kidou, at least some basic field Kidou, but Aizen killed him before he could properly teach him anything.
 
He kicked off the ground, starting slow; for him. He knew he was stronger than his father, but when it came down to a basic test, he was beyond curious.
 
He swung across with blatant tells, but he wasn’t trying for real, neither of them were yet. His father blocked easily, the shudder of the impact up his arms and the ring of steel a well known song and dance. The feeling he got from his father’s blade surprised him, almost as much as he thought it surprised Isshin. They stared at each other, wide eyed. He knew Zangetsu was similar to Engetsu, but

this

similar? It was like fighting himself, it was bizarre.

“Fuck, what is that?”

‘You feel it too?’

“Are ya kiddin’ me, King? Last time I felt something that intense was when someone cut right through me.”

‘So, is that a bad thing?’

“Din’ say that.”

Isshin’s surprise fell away under another grin. “Your Zanpakuto giving you shit too?”
 
“What

is

that?”
 
“My guess? You’re my son, your Zanpakuto is formed from your own power, but it’s power you inherited from me. That makes it remarkably similar to mine, it’s how you have Getsuga Tensho, and Mugetsu. Our swords are separated by experiences, our own souls, and time, but your sword came from mine, the memory is still there.”
 
Isshin’s smile widened. “Engetsu approves.” He drew his sword back into a ready stance. “Shall we?”
 
Ichigo was eager for this fight, he made the first move yet again, ramping up the game much more quickly. He attacked from shunpo, but his father kept pace, blocking his attack with ease. “Come on now, from behind?”
 
To his surprise, Grimmjow had a response ready for that. “Haven’t seen him fight, have ya shinigami? He’s a fast fucker.”
 
They exchanged a quick set of blows, all of which Ichigo knew Isshin blocked from experience, not necessarily because he saw it coming. Isshin raised a brow and asked, “How fast?”
 
Ichigo smiled, and disappeared.
 
He reappeared in several places at once, and it wasn’t an afterimage, he really was moving that fast, and when he relied on shunpo rather than sonido, it was near silent. Isshin whistled. “Who’d have thought you’d take after Masaki’s speed?”
 
Grimmjow snorted. “You should see him in bankai, it’s disgusting.”
 
Isshin chuckled as Ichigo’s voice came from five places at once. “So, ready to try, old man?”
 
By then they had an audience, it seemed they weren’t the only ones interested in their little match. Isshin stepped into shunpo and they both attacked at a speed just beyond a blur. The clash of steel signalled their attack, moving too quickly for anyone outside of Grimmjow and Nel to follow. They separated from the group by a few hundred yards, just to be safe, especially since they were starting to back their attacks with reiatsu.
 
Ichigo found himself goading Isshin, tugging his shihakusho, watching his father spin and attack thin air. Isshin was fast, but he was primarily a heavy hitter, he wasn’t like him. Ichigo laughed, and his voice bounced flatly off the sand from every direction. “Come on, hit me with everything you’ve got.”
 
“Everything?”
 
Ichigo stopped running, his back to the desert. He’d established he was faster, but he’d always been curious what it would be like to be on the other end of a getsuga. He was getting flashbacks to Kenpachi, but he really was curious.
 
Isshin shifted into a stance, reiatsu whipping around him. “You sure?”
 
“Of course I’m sure. Speed isn't the only thing I inherited from okaasan.”
 
Isshin’s brows shot up. “Blut vene?”
 
Ichigo’s grin widened. “I doubt I’ll need it.”
 
“Getting cocky?”
 
Grimmjow had to get in his opinion. “Annoying, ain’t it?”
 
Turning his sword point down, Ichigo held Zangetsu before him. “I know my limits.” It had taken a lot of getting his teeth kicked in to learn it, but eventually, he’d gotten there.
 
Isshin’s reiatsu whipped around him more fiercely, and Ichigo braced himself for the blast of power he knew would follow. He might not be the best at sensing reiatsu, but he sure as shit could sense

that

. His father swung Engetsu forward, the familiar name of his strongest attack preceding that wave of energy. “Getsuga Tensho.”
 
Isshin’s pale blue energy surged past him to gauge a trench in the desert behind him, Ichigo’s own reiatsu splitting it with ease. He’d never considered that they both would have nearly the same reiatsu. Even concentrated into an attack, it didn’t feel dangerous, only familiar. But then, that might have been because there was little to no chance that attack could hurt him.
 
Isshin chuckled, resting his sword on his shoulder. “Christ, kid, no wonder Yama-jii is scared of you.”
 
Ichigo shrugged, unconsciously mirroring his father’s stance with a grin he couldn’t quite hide. “I guess you’re rusty.”
 
“Che, now I’m curious what it looks like when you actually try.”
 
Isshin sheathed his sword and crossed his arms to Grimmjow’s irritated voice. “You and everyone else, get in line jii-san.”
 
Karin spoke up. “You didn’t draw the short sword. Why?”
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened, surprised she’d noticed. He glanced down at the trench knife, then sheathed the khyber blade as he answered. “That one’s...how do I put it...tuned toward my quincy power. But this one,” he tapped the hilt over his shoulder with his forefingers, “is from my shinigami power. Zangetsu was the one interested in this fight, I don’t think Ossan could care less.”

“Untrue, I’m always interested in your progress.”

‘Same difference, Ossan.’

She raised a brow. “Who?”
 
Isshin answered for him. “His inner spirits, all shinigami with a Zanpakuto have one. I have one, but your brother has two due to, well, Masaki and myself. His are just...livelier than most.”
 
Tatsuki asked, “Why?”
 
Ichigo gave her a blank look, then shrugged. “I dunno, I never thought about it.”
 
Isshin said, “Kisuke has theories. He thinks it’s possibly because you were born with yours. Hell, Zangetsu even looks like you.”
 
Tatsuki folded her arms. “He’s creepy.”

“I can hear you, you bitch.”

“You

met

him?” asked Karin.

‘I’d think you’d take that as a compliment.’

Inoue shared a look with Tatsuki, playing with her hair. “He’s not...that bad.”
 
Grimmjow scoffed, “

Not that bad,

he’s an asshole! I can’t tell you how many times that prick stabbed me.”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Psh, like

I

haven’t stabbed you.”
 
Inoue gasped, “I thought you were friends.”
 
Nel burst out laughing, slapping a hand down on Inoue’s shoulders. “It’s how men show affection. They’re just a bit more violent about it because they’re hollows.” He called over to Grimmjow. “He always puts you back together, doesn’t he, kitty?”
 
“Bitch,” snarled Grimmjow, but he didn’t refute it.
 
Karin frowned between them all, and Ichigo could tell she felt left out. Technically this was a good thing to be left out of, but he knew she wouldn’t see it that way. “You want to meet him?”
 
Isshin warned, “Ichigo.”
 
He ignored his father. “Do you?” He knew his father didn’t approve of the trust he put in his hollow side, but right now that didn’t matter. He wouldn’t say no to Karin, she deserved to know whatever she wanted.
 
To his shock, Yuzu spoke first. “I’d like to. Zangetsu-san is important to nii-san, isn’t he?”
 
Karin added, “Yeah. Plus, Oyaji doesn’t want us to, so I wanna meet him.”
 
He realized they’d figured out more than he expected, but he hadn’t thought his father would actively try to keep them from knowing what was going on. He glanced at Isshin, noticing he wasn’t as opposed as before. Maybe their little sparring match helped ease some of his worries. When their swords clashed, he’d gotten more of a read for Zangetsu, and himself. Still, it was always hard to tell what he was thinking.
 
Zangetsu pulled on his reiatsu, following his thoughts. He manifested directly in front of him, and from the way Yuzu flinched, he knew he must be smiling. “Hey kiddies.”
 
Ichigo chided. “Don’t smile like that, it’s creepy.”
 
Yuzu blurted, “He looks like you!”
 
Karin stared, then asked, “Is he dangerous?”
 
“Not to you.” Ichigo’s tone was easy, if there was one thing he could count on Zangetsu for, it was protecting his sisters. He would never hurt them, he didn’t even think he could.
 
Karin looked to their father. “Why don’t you bring out your Zanpakuto, why didn’t Rukia-san?”
 
Isshin sighed. “Most would rather not come out, not to mention it requires a lot of reiatsu, it’s mostly used for bankai training.” He looked to Ichigo, struck by a thought. “Who trained you for bankai?”
 
“Kisuke. Sort of.”
 
Chad asked, “During the war?”
 
Ichigo scratched his head, realizing in this timeline, things had gone differently. “No, when we invaded Soul Society to get Rukia the first time.”
 
Isshin’s eyes widened. “Wasn’t that only for a few days? How long-“
 
Zangetsu answered, a hint of pride in his voice. “Two days. Geta-boshi had some method as a shortcut since King hadn’t quite managed to manifest either of us. Ossan wouldn’t let him have all his power, back then, but it was bankai.”
 
Isshin’s eyes snapped to Ichigo at the mention of Ossan, a question in his eyes, but Ichigo brushed it off.
 
Zangetsu quickly bored of the conversation, his attention focusing on Karin. “You have some power hanging around you. I bet jii-san here won’t teach you shit.”
 
Isshin protested, “Hey! They’re girls, it’s different.”
 
Tatsuki grumbled, “...don’t seem to have a problem with

Ichigo

fighting.”
 
Zangetsu snorted, and ignored him. He held up his hand, curling his finger and urging her to come at him. “Come on, kid, show me what you’ve got.”
 
Isshin tensed, but Ichigo was at ease, prompting the rest to relax as well. It should have been obvious, but only recently did he really notice how people looked to him for cues. Maybe he was being manipulative about it sometimes, but he had good intentions.
 
Isshin still seemed a bit on edge, but Ichigo couldn’t do any more than what he’d already done to reassure him.
 
Karin’s face set in determination and she rushed forward, spinning in a roundhouse kick. He caught her foot in his palm, the reiatsu behind it wasn’t pitiful, but it wasn’t much.
 
Zangetsu laughed. “That’s it?”
 
She grit her teeth. “No! Again.” She skipped back, her reiatsu building around her with her growing anger. It surged in ribbons of gold, simmering just over her skin. Zangetsu’s smile widened and he braced himself, eyes glowing just a little brighter in anticipation.
 
She ran forward, her feet leaving the ground in an attack that she put her all into. Zangetsu raised his forearm to block her kick for his head, her reiatsu rushing past his block and sending the sand whipping away from the force. He caught her leg before she could fall, holding her upside down. “Better. That’s more like a Kurosaki.”
 
“Hey!” she squeaked, “Put me down.” He let her go and she fell onto her back with an oomph.
 
Isshin sobbed. “Be gentle with my precious daughter!”
 
Zangetsu chuckled. “She ain’t precious.” He offered Karin a hand up, and after a second to consider if it was loaded with betrayal, Karin accepted. He set her on her feet and set about explaining technique, aghast that Geta-Boshi or her own father hadn’t taught her jack shit. Ichigo let him, and he mentally argued with Zangetsu to let Isshin hover without starting a fight with him. Zangetsu didn’t like his father, but he didn’t think he would hurt him.
 
Grimmjow and Nel both looked on, thoughtful, and Ichigo thought he knew what they were thinking. He wanted his sisters to be strong, and if he wasn’t there to make sure of it...They were staring future responsibility in the face and they knew it.
 
Chad finally got him alone to talk. Well, “talk”. Chad had always been good at speaking without words. His presence alone was a comfort. Ichigo smiled and said, “That was a good punch. You’ve been practicing without me.”
 
He made an affirmative sound, and he thought he heard a twinge of pride in it. “With the visored. Inoue spends a lot of time with them too.”
 
“She does?” It was an innocent question, he simply wasn’t involved in his friend’s lives anymore, and Hirako didn’t exactly share without prompting.
 
“Ishida...didn’t approve, but he let her go.” Ichigo sensed there was more to it than that, and his eyes shifted to Inoue, who was animatedly talking and pantomiming something to do with digging and scissors to Nel and Tatsuki. “You know Inoue, she blames herself.”
 
He sighed. “Of course she does.” And there was the guilt, looming in the back of his mind. “I keep thinking I could have said more, done more.”
 
“Ichigo…”
 
“I’m the one who’s supposed to know what comes next, and I still fucked it up.”
 
“And we were right there with him every day, and it didn’t make a difference. You can’t blame yourself.” Chad looked down at him. “You can only try to get him back.”
 
“Yeah...I’m trying.”
 
Chad squeezed his shoulder, and that was that. He wasn’t sure if he felt better about it, or simply came to grips with it. Chad had a way of calming him down, he was always so steady. He wished he could stay, but that was selfish.
 
He stood there with him in silence, watching Zangetsu try to teach Karin how to manipulate her reiatsu while Yuzu cheered her on, while Grimmjow had a long, somewhat one-sided, serious conversation with his father. They glanced at him more than once, he could feel their eyes on him, but he pretended not to notice.
 
Orihime eventually drifted over to him, and he realized she was scared of him. Not in the way she had been before, where she feared he would hurt her, but in the sense that he was unreachable, untouchable.
 
He approached her first, which both startled and relieved her. He broke the barrier so she wouldn’t have to, fully aware of where this conversation was going to go. Tears pulled at her eyes, and he realized why. “I lost him Kurosaki-kun, I-I’m sorry.” She kept her back to Tatsuki, not wanting her to see her cry.
 
He pulled her into a hug, her arms crushed between them. He ran his hand over her head, his voice gentle. “No you didn’t, he was already lost.” They all tried, but Ishida was always distant and stubborn, he could relate to that. “It’s okay though, we’ll get him back.” He hoped he sounded confident, he wasn’t a very good liar. Maybe once he could have blindly believed it, but those days had come and gone.
 
Her shoulders trembled with contained sobs, he couldn’t forget she lived alone, she had almost no one besides them. They were all the family she had, as sad as that was. Her voice was soft, and somehow didn’t betray her tears. “Promise?”
 
He closed his eyes through a pained exhale, his grip on her shoulders tightening. “I promise.”

Please, don’t make me a liar, Ishida.

He let her stay there until she broke the hug, stepping back. Her eyes were a bit red, but no one said anything, even if they knew why. She stared at him a long moment, and he knew whatever crush she’d had, was gone. He was a friend, in a category neither of them could place, but she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the time she’d spent training, or if she’d simply grown as a person, but something was different.
 
She gave him an unsteady smile. “You know I’ll help you, Kurosaki-kun.” She chuckled, sniffing a bit. “I’ve been practicing.”
 
He smiled. “I saw.” She’d managed to keep healing Grimmjow while he pitched such a fit, she must have gotten in

a lot

of practice. “I’m sorry I can’t help, although Hacchi is probably more help than I ever could be.”
 
Her smile broadened. “They’re very nice, they let me stay the night a couple of times.” She straightening, remembering something. “Actually, before I left, they said to remind you they’re on your side.”
 
“All of them?” He knew they were warming up to him, but picking sides was something new altogether.
 
“Hirako said he knew you wouldn’t ask, so to just tell you they’re helping, and that’s that.” That did sound like Hirako.
 
“Did you have something to do with that?” he asked.
 
She gave an innocent shrug. “No, I don’t think so.”
 
That felt like a lie, she looked very pleased with herself. He smiled. “Thanks, Inoue.” They were both right, he wouldn’t ask either of them.
 
After a time, he pulled Zangetsu back into his soul, and switched to talking to his sisters. They talked about mundane, everyday things like school, clubs, friends, drama. They caught him up on the pop culture he’d missed out on. Bands that broke up, movies he’d missed. It was achingly normal, and he’d needed it. He could have talked for hours, but he could tell Yuzu and Karin were getting tired, who knew how many hours they’d been awake now, and they weren’t use to it like he was.
 
He finally cut it off, standing and pulling them both into a hug. Despite Karin’s weak protests, she returned it. All it took was a gesture to open a garganta just outside town. “Wait, before you go, all of you. If Soul Society asks-”
 
“Lie,” answered Karin. “We know.”
 
His brows furrowed. “Even if it’s Rukia. Can you do that?”
 
Inoue questioned, “Even Rukia-san...why?”
 
“To be cautious. I don’t know if she’ll remain loyal to Soul Society, and we don’t know what we’re dealing with. I hate to ask you to lie, but it’s important. If it turns out that I’m paranoid about nothing, I’ll take the blame.”
 
Karin answered breezily. “Sure.”
 
Tatsuki deadpanned, “Well that was a quick betrayal.”
 
Karin shrugged, “You know what you’re doing. You know Rukia better than us anyways”
 
Chad gave him a thumbs up, and he was surprised at how quickly they agreed. He knew he wasn’t asking them to hurt anyone, but she was still a friend, it meant something to him that they trusted his judgement. “Thanks, guys.”
 
Nel escorted them home, all of them, but watching them leave didn’t fill him with sadness, only resolve. His friends weren’t pushovers, they were strong, and they were only getting stronger. Sure, maybe by comparison, when he operated at a level just above ludacris, it was a bit nerve wracking to think of them in combat, but they weren’t weak.
 
He closed the garganta, then turned to Grimmjow. “Thanks for staying.”
 
“Why? You didn’t need me here.”
 
“Maybe, but now all my friends and family recognize and are familiar with your reiatsu.”
 
Grimmjow wrinkled his nose in distaste and muttered, “Sneaky bastard.”
 
“I can always count on you to pick a fight.” It was hardly a plan, it was just a happy coincidence. Curiosity was killing him, and he asked, “Am I allowed to know what you spoke to my father about?”
 
Grimmjow asked incredulously, “Is that an order?”
 
“No.”
 
“You think maybe you’re doing something wrong when everyone around you is convinced you’re suicidal?”
 
Ichigo started walking back to Las Noches, scoffing, “I’m not suicidal.”

“See? I’m not the only one.”

Ichigo looked back at Grimmjow. “He thinks I’m suicidal?” Dying wasn’t the plan, but he was certainly including that into any future plans. Adaliz was strong.
 
“Not in so many words.” Grimmjow frowned, then added, “You definitely act like you don’t expect to live.”
 
He groaned, “For fuck’s sake, you too? I’m

not

suicidal.” He pointed at the sky. “But that

bitch

isn’t even trying her hardest, and she’s crushing Hueco Mundo.”
 
“Well...she’s been at it longer than you’ve been alive, don’t be too jealous.”
 
Ichigo snorted. “

Jealous.

I’m exhausted, is what I am.”
 
Grimmjow replied flatly, “Yeah, it shows.”
 
“

Thanks

.”
 
“But you have a plan.”
 
Ichigo hesitated. “Kisuke does.”
 
Grimmjow paused expectantly. “Well, do we get to hear it?”
 
He tried not to sigh. “It’s not complicated. Find the Quincy--Nel’s going to work on that. Then get to the Soul King,

first

. Kisuke’s working on that with Szayel and I.”
 
Grimmjow raised a brow. “Why do we need to get the Soul King first? Don’t we just need to keep her hands off him?”
 
He hated to admit it, but at this point, there was no reason to lie. “I can’t do that, I can’t stop her...but I can get there first.”
 
“Why?”
 
“I need to kill him.”
 Grimmjow’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh.” He swore. “So we’ll be at war with Soul Society and Adaliz. Great plan. No wonder you don’t want to keep contact with your shinigami buddies, I can’t imagine that would go over well.” 
Ichigo shot him a withering look. “Regardless of what Adaliz does, the Soul King has to die.”
 
Grimmjow looked at him like he was crazy. “Isn’t that the guy that keeps the worlds together?”
 
“That’s the lie.”
 
Grimmjow stilled and Ichigo stopped with him, letting him process that. Grimmjow growled, “Well fuck me, what’s he do then?”
 
“Nothing good. Most shinigami wouldn’t know, it was before their time, they’re ignorant to it, but they’ve been feeding souls to it for years.”
 
Grimmjow fixated on one word. “

It…

”
 
Ichigo shook his head. “It can't be a person. If it can press the balance like this, it has to at least be a threat to

them

.” He gestured at the sky. “They don’t like it, they never have.”
 
Grimmjow thought about that for a long moment, so he started walking again. He finally asked, “Are you killing it because of that fucker Altiza, or because you want to?”
 
Ichigo was surprised Grimmjow had thought of that. “Both. Altiza isn’t giving me much of a choice, but it’s nice to pretend it’s my choice. Why do you think Aizen was obsessed with the Soul King?”
 
“Was he?”
 
Ichigo looked back at him, forgetting the Winter War hadn’t happened in this timeline. “Yeah, it’s why he made you, to distract Soul Society while he made the Ouken.”
 
“Did he succeed?”
 
“Luckily, no. I’m not sure if that failure was intentional or not.”
 
“Would it have worked? The Ouken?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Then why aren’t we doing that to get the Soul King?”
 
“I’m not going to kill thousands for the chance. Adaliz probably will, if she doesn’t have direct access already.”
 
“Why can’t you tell me this shit without me having to ask?”
 
“I don’t know, I didn’t have all the information, I didn’t want anyone else to stress about it. Finding the Soul King is my problem.”
 
“It’s all of our problem, dumbass.”
 
Ichigo studied the scowl on his face, then accepted that. “My mistake.”
 
Grimmjow was startled, unprepared for Ichigo to agree with him. He looked away and asked, “So Adaliz is looking for the Soul King. She knows about the Ouken?”
 
“We’re afraid of that. She hates the shinigami. The Ouken needs 100,000 souls and a Jūreichi. It doesn’t need to be in Living World, we think she may try to eradicate Seireitei.

“ Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow sidelong. “And I can see you’re not too broken up about that.”
 
“I ain’t exactly singing the shinigami’s praises.”
 
“That’s fine, but it would give her a power boost we can’t afford, on top of being

wrong

.”
 
“Che. So it’s in our best interest to protect the fuckers that hate us.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“FUCK!”
 
Ichigo sighed. “I haven’t told Harribel everything yet, but she knows. Keep it to yourself. This won’t exactly go over well. In the end, the goal is to stop the Quincy. If she attempts to forge the Ouken, she’s going to need a lot of manpower on the ground to prepare it, which is what you’ll be in charge of.”
 
“What?”
 
“You wanted to know, I’m telling you. Seireitei is huge, I’m going to be splitting command between you and Harribel, I’ll be occupied with Adaliz.”
 
“How do you know she’ll fight you alone?”
 
“Dreams.” Grimmjow gave him a confused look. “I’ve been talking in my sleep. It’s her, her thoughts, her dreams.” He added, “it’s not intentional. Which means she has a hold on my subconscious too.”
 
His eyes widened, looking at him like he was a spy. “How the fuck did that happen? Can’t you use a barrier or some shit?”
 
Ichigo sighed in annoyance, pointing at the sky. “Kisuke was trying to explain. It’s complicated. Altiza and Adaliz aren’t so different. When they clash like that, they mingle, and if you’re I recall their direct actions are a result of our will, our thoughts. There’s overlap all the time, but we’re only aware of it when we’re mentally weak, like sleeping. Apparently. We both have to sleep, it’s a weakness we can’t get out of.” He had no doubt it was how Mictlan had come to empathize with Adaliz so completely that he would abandon Hueco Mundo for her. He was trying hard to ignore her, he wouldn’t fall into that trap.
 
He shrugged. “I’ve been translating some of the shit I say, and to be honest, most is gibberish, but the feelings are strong, and they’ve been getting stronger the longer this goes on. Long story short, she really can’t stand me, she’ll face me on her own.”
 
Grimmjow mulled that over, then asked, “So it goes both ways.” Ichigo gave him a look, letting Grimmjow finish. “She can't know about your family?”
 
“Now you’re catching on.” He sighed. “I think about them a lot, she has to know. If not in so many words, she knows I have a weakness, and it’s not difficult to see what it is.”
 
“You’ve got Adaliz, we get her army, so what about your family?”
 
“I can’t help them, but...my father isn’t a pushover.” He wasn’t happy about that, and from the look Grimmjow gave him, he knew it showed. “Kisuke and my father are there, and we’ll have the enemy’s hands tied. They won’t be defenseless.”
 
“How long do you think before that bitch makes her move?”
 
Ichigo recalled the eagerness in his dreams, the hatred. “Soon.”

--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

—- xxx —-
 
Uryuu Ishida
 
It had been weeks of this, and he still hated this place. At first he felt pity, but now he felt disgust. The walls were lined with cells, all built with das licht woven into the stone and metal, so there was no hope of an arranger or adjuchas opening a garganta to escape. Some of them bargained when he walked by, others spat insults, and others said nothing. None of them were ever there for long. Either they were turned, or killed. At first it turned his stomach, but they were hollows. They deserved it, they hunted people, they were dangerous.
 
He ended up at the end of the hall, descending a flight of stairs. A guard was posted outside, but they let him through without a second glance.
 
He’d never been here before, the room was large, circular with a ceiling as tall as the stairs he’d descended. In the center of the room was a pedestal with a medallion much like the one the Sternritter used to travel with embedded in the stone. A man he’d never met before stood in the center of the room, his hair long and white. “Ishida. My name is Haschwalth. She wants to meet you.”
 
“Adaliz?” He found that hard to believe.
 
Haschwalth didn’t show much emotion, Ishida couldn’t tell what his opinion on the matter was, if he even had one at all. He gestured for him to come stand beside him, and after a brief hesitation, Ishida joined him. The Sternritter put his hand on the medallion, and all around them light suddenly filled the room.
 
The jump was just as unpleasant as always, but this time it deposited them both in a reishi thick environment he recognized. His eyes widened. “Soul Society?”
 
A woman’s voice came from behind him. “Geisterwelt, yes.”
 
He spun to face her, her hair long, brightly blonde, but the startling part was her eyes. They glowed like suns. She looked young, her energy felt alive, but if she were alive, wouldn’t she be...centuries old?
 
She smiled, pacing up to him. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for some time.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Well, for one, you’re a young, promising Sternritter, and for another reason you already know. You’ve met Kurosaki Ichigo, in fact, I’d say you were friends.”
 
He hedged, “I wouldn’t go so far.”
 
“Nervous?” She purred as she circled him, her hand lingering on his shoulder in a fiery trail, then falling away. His heart started to race. “What’s more important to you? Your relationship with Kurosaki Ichigo, or vengeance?”
 
Ishida dodged the question. “Why are you asking me this?”
 
“I need a Quincy, one untouched by die Königin. You can get close to him without starting a fight, without having to defeat him. It pains me to say it, but none of the sternritter even come close.” She looked back at him. “You felt it, didn’t you? You were very close to him.”
 
Ishida pushed up his glasses, just as nervous as she’d predicted. “What do you want from me?”
 
“I have a connection to all Quincy, no matter how slight. I can feel the fire in your soul, and very recently, I felt something very intriguing in yours.”
 
He started to sweat, turning to face her.
 
“You absorbed his power. For a brief second, you felt the power of a God, didn’t you?” How could he forget? Ichigo’s power had razed his soul with an intensity he never could have imagined. He thought he was powerful before, now he was Godlike. She mused, “You must have done it before when his power was in its infancy for something like that to succeed now without killing you.” She laughed, clapping gloved hands. “Bravo, Ishida.”
 
He wasn’t sure if it really was an achievement to simply go on existing when he touched Kurosaki’s power. “I still don’t understand what you want from me.”
 
“Power,

Ishida

. We are, all of us, devourers. Quincy can obliterate a soul, even the ground we stand on to steal the purest form of power. Hollows consume souls, they cannibalize each other. Even shinigami dogs devour souls to make weapons. It’s only the way of the world.” She squeezed her hand into a fist so tight the leather creaked. “Take his power and give it to me. I can’t touch it when it’s mixed with la sangre, but

you

, you act as a filter,

I felt it.

”
 
Her tone turned almost rabid, and Ishida didn’t think no was an option.
 
“What will it be, Ishida? Kurosaki? Or vengeance?”

—- xxx —-
 
Neliel Tu Odelschwanck
 
She hadn’t ever gotten to spend any amount of time in the human world, she’d always been going from place to place relaying messages or helping people around. She didn’t mind it, but she’d only been able to witness the world in passing, and her curiosity was eating her alive. She hopped up and down, not use to how heavy this body felt.
 
“Will you cut that out,” snapped Hiyori.
 
Hirako leered, his eyes somewhere below her chin. “No, keep it up, she’s just jealous.” He mimed squeezing her breasts and Hiyori started to beat him with her sandal. Nel laughed nervously. “Sorry, it feels weird, I feel heavy and stiff.”
 
“Yeah, cause you’re a fatass!” shouted Hiyori.
 
Hirako smirked. “Jealousy isn’t very attractive.” He looked to Neliel and said, “You’ll get used to it. You should feel how awful the official shinigami gigai are. Kisuke is the best.”
 
Nel looked into the window of a store, at a coat in the window, a pair of shoes, and tore herself away. “Where are we going?”
 
“To see…” he shared a look with Hiyori, “an ally.”
 
“Who?”
 
Hirako said, “Ishida’s father.”
 
Her eyes widened in understanding. “A Quincy?”
 
“Yep, he knows Kisuke and Isshin, though I wouldn’t say they’re friends. I don’t think that asshole has friends.”
 
She questioned, “He wants to find his son?”
 
Hirako looked up, scratching his chin. “I think so. Fucker is hard to read.”
 
She walked with them across town, finding all the rules about crosswalks and signs and laws to be fascinating. The trip to the hospital was almost too short, the three of them got in the elevator, and after a ride to the top and a short talk with the receptionist, they were standing in his office.
 
He stood to meet them, and her attention was immediately drawn to the corner, sensing Szayel’s reiatsu, no matter how faint. He noticed and explained, “Blood never really does wash out. I can thank Kurosaki for making a perfectly good office reek of arrancar.”
 
Well, that explained that, and if Ichigo had come here after all of that, she thought she could trust this man. At least enough as she would any ally. She dipped her head in a slight bow. “He really does spend a good amount of time bloody.”
 
He came around the desk to stand before her. He gave her a once over, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Kisuke outdid himself, I can’t sense you at all.”
 
Hirako snorted. “Did you doubt that? He

was

the head of RND.”
 
He leaned a little closer, enough that Nel leaned back a bit, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He leaned back against the desk, seemingly satisfied. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was human. It’ll work. Against Adaliz?” He gave a slight shake of his head. “I doubt it. You can mask the reiatsu, but not the darkness in your soul. Try to avoid that scenario.”
 
She furrowed her brows. “I don’t intend to fight.”
 
He made a sound, but she couldn’t interpret if it meant he didn’t believe her. He reached around behind him, turning the monitor of his computer around for them to see. “Start here.” He rapped the screen with a knuckle. “Triberg im Schwarzwald”
 
She frowned at the names on the map. They were long and complicated, she wasn’t even sure she could properly pronounce those. She asked, “Where is that?”
 
Hirako stepped around her, studying the screen. Ryuken answered, “Germany. Adaliz was born there, many, many years ago. You probably won’t find her there, but it’s a good place to start. Back during the first World War, she and the Quincy would often train at Triberger Wasserfälle.”
 
Hirako studied the map, then stepped back. “Got it.”
 
She frowned, “I can’t open a garganta to someplace I’ve never seen.”
 
“Don’t worry princess, humans invented the internet.”
 
She raised a brow in confusion. “Inter…net?”
 
Ryuken pushed away from his desk and said, “Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment.”
 
Hirako gave him a nod, and Hiyori hovered by the door, eager to leave. “Thanks.’
 
Nel paused before she left, watching as Ryuken sat and straightened the monitor. “We’ll find Ishida.” She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to say that.
 
His expression didn’t change, but he nudged his glasses back up on his nose and muttered, “Such a troublesome son.”
 
She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard regret in his tone. She left with Hirako, and once outside and away from listening ears he said, “How much information do you need to open a garganta?”
 
“Not much. I can feel it out if I’ve seen it and know where it is in relation to myself.”
 
“Alright, then that’s where we’ll start.”
 
She bit her lip and said, “Germany is a country? I don’t speak German.”
 
Hirako waved it off. “Doesn’t matter, you’re pretty.”
 
“If you’re into skanks,” muttered Hiyori.
 
“Jealousy,” sang Hirako. “The moral of the story is if you need directions, ask.”
 
She blushed. “Oh.”

—- xxx —-
 
Urahara Kisuke
 
“What am I looking at?”
 
The crystal in front of him just appeared to be a normal rock, he didn’t sense anything from it at all, but Yoruichi had set it down like it was the holy grail itself.
 
Her enthusiasm didn’t waver, her grin widening. “I don’t know, but, a noble killed another noble, absorbed his soul into an asauchi, then put it here.” She patted the top of the crystal.
 
“I don’t sense a soul.”
 
“

Exactly

,” she hissed.
 
Now he understood, eyes widening as he leaned in closer, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. “You think this is a direct connection to the Soul King?”
 
“Or something close to it, right?”
 
He looked at her. “How did you get this?”
 
Her smirk turned mischievous. “It’s rude to ask a woman to divulge her secrets.”
 
He gave her a dry look. “Well then, how many people are dead?”
 
She winced. “Two, but they would have known something was wrong when I took it anyway.” She leaned down to look at it with him. “Please tell me I wasn’t downgraded to a petty thief over nothing.”
 
“I don’t know. Take it to Kurosaki and we’ll see.”
 
She raised a brow. “You think he’ll have better luck?”
 
“Much better luck, I think this goes beyond the range of what we can sense.”
 
She nodded, straightening. “The Gotei 13 don’t know, or if they do, Yama-jii hasn’t done anything about it. The Onmitsukidō scrambled, but no one else reacted to the theft.”
 
“Well then,” He turned to go set up a garganta, their courier friend long gone. “The sooner this gets to Kurosaki-san the better.”
 
—- xxx —-
 
Neliel Tu Odelschwanck

Neliel sat on a train, countryside blurring by, with a small backpack of essentials and money. Hirako had explained how the plastic money cards worked, and now she was on her own to find the Quincy. She was a little nervous, being on her own. Pesche hadn’t liked the idea at all. He’d argued, insisted he come with her, and it had taken hours of reassurances and promises before he’d relented.
 
She already missed him, but she knew she had to do this alone. Even from the torn look on Ichigo’s face when he’d sent her off, she knew this was dangerous, but important. She didn’t like fighting, she didn’t want to, and Ichigo knew that, but he also knew she wanted to help. This was perfect for her.
 
She dropped her forehead to the window, watching trees fly by. There was a break in them, the afternoon sun glaring into her eyes. She closed them and didn’t look away, having decided she liked the sun, especially going so many years without it. She liked Hueco Mundo, she was made for it, but there was something about Living World.
 
It was chaotic, loud, busy, terrifying even, but she liked it. She would prefer she wasn’t alone, but there was nothing to be done for that.
 
A voice filled the cabin, a polite sounding woman. She didn’t understand anything but the name of the town she needed to be in. She was only so accurate with a garganta, not to mention Ichigo made her promise to be careful, and if that meant opening a garganta several miles from her destination just to be safe, she’d do it.
 
—- xxx —-
 
Water splashed on her boots as she approached an abandoned building at the base of the mountains. It was getting dark, but even in a gigai, she was use to darkness, it just felt more like home. Encircling it was a tall fence, rusted barbed wire lining the top. She frowned up at it, circling to try to find a gap. Being human had its flaws, but she wouldn’t let something as small as a fence defeat her.
 
Intermittently there were corroded signs stating in large red letters “BETRETEN VERBOTEN.” She ignored them, following it into short underbrush. A bush snagged her jacket, her breath forming in front of her face in puffs as the night grew colder. She grinned when she saw a gap in the fence, metal torn and parted years ago, it seemed. She squeezed through, her hair snagging the fence, but she made it through. High beams from a car shone from the street and she backed up, crouching.
 
She had faked citizenship papers from Kisuke, but they all agreed it would be better not to be caught. She had a pill with a mod soul in her pocket, one that spoke fluent German, but that was a last resort; she couldn’t be sensed as an arrancar, it would ruin everything.
 
The car pulled away and she rushed to the side of the building, hopping up on a box to peek through a grimy window. She didn’t see anyone, so she hoped down, skulking around to find a door. One was chained and bolted, but as she circled back around, she found a broken window.
 
She took her jacket off, throwing it over the jagged edges of glass and climbed inside, dropping to the floor in a crouch. She replaced her jacket, now damp from the sleet on the sill. She shivered a little, creeping into the middle of the building. It was tall ceilinged, like a warehouse, but was divided on the ground into hallways and small rooms. There were old file cabinets and desks, all rusted and rotting. She didn’t bother rooting around in the desks, she had no doubt the Quincy wouldn’t leave valuable information just lying around.
 
She folded her arms and shivered, extending her senses, hopeful. Nothing.
 
She sighed, turning in a circle. She wasn’t about to give up, but surely she was missing something? She closed her eyes and crouched, her fingers brushing the cracked, acid washed concrete. She recoiled, the very ground having absorbed a power that was rejected by her very existence. She shuddered, frowning down at the cement like it might spill its secrets.

That

was certainly not nothing.
 
The energy there felt different than what she’d felt from Ichigo, it was the difference between sparks and a bonfire. The power residue left behind was like light burned into her irises, but its source was someone vastly powerful.
 
She folded her arms, wondering if this warranted an update. She shifted her weight, deciding against it. They always knew they would find

something

here, so she really did have nothing to report. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she had to track it, which would likely be time consuming.
 
Still, Ichigo insisted Adaliz would be arrogant, to try the cities first, possibly even churches. She could only hope he was right. She had a list from Kensei of all the top cities in Germany, and now all she could do was go down the list.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
“What’s this supposed to be?”
 
Szayel frowned at it from over his shoulder, for once privy to his conversation with Kisuke. “It appears to be a mineral.”
 
Ichigo gave him a look, almost missing the days when Szayel was afraid to be a smartass. “Yes I can see that, Szayel.”
 
The scientist shrugged innocently, folding his arms.
 
Ichigo scowled down at the crystal, then looked at Yoruichi and said, “This feels...weird. Where did you get this?”
 
“Stole it,” she beamed. “So can you tell us what it is?”
 
“Me?”
 
Kisuke said, “If it isn’t obvious by this point, to us it’s just a crystal.”
 
Yoruichi added. “A useless rock.”
 
Szayel reached for his mask, a habit likely leftover from when he actually wore glasses. “It’s a mineral, there’s a difference.”
 
Yoruichi gave him a withering look. “

Thank you.

”
 
Kisuke watched Ichigo expectantly, so he turned back to the rock. Mineral. “Give me a second.”
 
He closed his eyes, focusing on it. This never was his strong suit, it was hard enough without having to manage la sangre in the background as well as his own reiatsu and lack of skill.
 
He frowned, his senses brushing against something inside of it. It reminded him of Kukaku’s cannonballs. This was meant to absorb something, and it was made from something strange. Something not unlike the sand from la sangre. He decided to try something, pulling la sangre from the air into his hands in a thin layer between his palms and the crystal. He willed la sangre inside of it, just a touch.
 
The reaction was immediate, it absorbed it like a sponge. He gasped in surprise and dropped it. Yoruichi lunged and caught it, shooting him a panicked look from a crouch. “Careful!”
 
“What happened?” asked Kisuke.
 
“It...uh...devoured it.”
 
Yoruichi gave the crystal a wary look and passed it back. “Try putting reiatsu in it.”
 
Ichigo ignored her, looking to Kisuke when he spoke. “Yoruichi said she witnessed it absorb a soul. Is la sangre gone?”
 
“I don’t feel it,” admitted Ichigo. His eyes widened. “

Oh

.” Now he understood where they were going with this. They believed this crystal was a direct link to the Soul King.
 
“Can you trace where it went?” Kisuke asked.
 
“Maybe.” His brows furrowed. “You know how bad I am at this.”
 
“Try.”
 
He closed his eyes and tried again, less startled when it absorbed la sangre this time. It tugged like it wanted more, and he felt a bit sick. This thing

ate

the Quincy, absorbed their souls like they were nothing. It was hard to concentrate through that knowledge.
 
“

Focus, Ichigo.”

‘

I’m tryin’ ossan, it’s hard to focus between two things.’

“Then let go of one.”

He didn’t want to, but it wasn’t happening otherwise. He muttered a swear and dropped his control over the outer reaches of Hueco Mundo and tried again.
 
He could feel la sangre leaking away, he knew it was going somewhere. Like a draft around a door, the power slipped away, but to where, he didn’t know. He opened his eyes. “It’s not a dimension I can access.”
 
Kisuke leaned in, eyes narrowed in thought. “Explain.”
 
“I can’t reach around to the other side. I can open a garganta by relying on instinct, but I’ve never been to this place, I don’t have…”
 
He fought for a word and Yoruichi supplied, “A key?”
 
“Yes.” Ichigo sighed. “Like the Ouken.”
 
Kisuke mulled this over then asked, “What would you need to get around this so called door?”
 
Ichigo looked away, thinking. Szayel spoke up in his place. “The formation of a garganta requires either a link, or a specific destination in mind. As White said, instinct plays a part, and I believe it’s due to this “darkness” within us. We’re a part of Hueco Mundo, so to speak.”
 
Ichigo turned to look at him. “When did you figure that out?”
 
“I listen...I wanted to know how you came to fix Neliel. The conclusion I drew is that this same power that allows you to control Hueco Mundo must be within hollows.” Szayel watched him warily, but Ichigo couldn’t think of a reason to be upset with him, it was only inevitable he figure it out.  After a second’s hesitation, he looked back at Kisuke and continued, “To access this other dimension, perhaps it would need to be done by a shinigami, someone connected to this power.”
 
Kisuke caught on fairly quickly. “You’re saying Kurosaki isn’t a shinigami?”
 
Szayel had all of their attention now, something the scientist was all too happy about. “Yes. I’ve been studying his reiatsu, and he isn’t a true shinigami. He may have reiatsu at a level high enough to sense the Soul King, but I believe he’s too muddled with Quincy and hollow power to access it.”
 
Kisuke tapped his fan on his hand. “That does make sense…”
 
He was quiet a moment, and Ichigo frowned at Szayel. “When have you been doing this?”
 
“Don’t you mean how? With reiatsu like yours, I don’t need to have contact with you or your reiryoku to study it, whenever you lower it to a level we can feel, it leaves a trace. I merely studied that.”
 
Kisuke continued, “Given your particular circumstances, if opening this gate requires “spiritual purity”, it’s no wonder it won’t let you in.” He was a science project, and he’d once been alive. He wasn’t exactly shinigami material.
 
“So now what?” asked Ichigo.
 
Yoruichi crossed her arms. “We can’t trick it?”
 
Ichigo frowned. “My reiatsu is going to feel hollow-like no matter what I do, unless I rely on my Quincy side, and that’s just as bad.”
 
Kisuke hummed. “This does raise a rather good point.” They all looked to him. “Hollows can open a garganta, but shinigami have always relied on the use of an official senkaimon. I have no idea if Quincy have something similar.”
 
Ichigo offered up what he knew. “I think they do. Hollows have been disappearing, but not through garganta. I’m almost certain it’s the Quincy, but whatever method they’re using, I can’t track, and if I can, I don’t know what to look for.”
 
Kisuke nodded, and went on. “I’m curious if shinigami have an ability like a garganta that doesn’t need to rely on technology. If that’s the case, then perhaps I can create something to trick it, as Yoruichi said.” Yoruichi beamed. “I’m sure by now it’s an ability that’s centuries removed, but if I can figure out a way to open something like a senkaimon, with your reiatsu fueling it, then perhaps there’s a chance.”
 
Ichigo handed the crystal back to Yoruichi. “Here. If anyone can figure it out, it would be you. Use Szayel if you need to.”
 
“You have someplace to be?” asked Kisuke.
 
Ichigo looked off someplace to the left, someplace out of sight. “You caught me at a bad time, I’m in the middle of something.”
 
“More important than a lead on the Soul King?” Demanded Yoruichi.
 
“Yes and no. If they bleed out before I’m done with them, I’ll have wasted my time.” Yoruichi raised a brow and Ichigo explained briefly. “I’m-ah-“interrogating” an adjuchas.”
 
Yoruichi’s brows shot up. “Ah! Torture, I see. Well carry on then.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Kisuke. “Open a way home for me first.”
 
It wasn’t necessarily torture, but he wasn’t going to argue. He wished Kisuke luck and opened a garganta for her right there in the lab despite Szayel’s protests, then left through la sangre before he had to listen to him gripe about his finely tuned instruments.
 
He stepped out in the middle of Hueco Mundo, directly before a Hyena looking adjuchas. She was a massive quadruped, bound in bands of Kidou just so he could be sure she would be where he left her. “Sorry about that, it was urgent.”
 
She tried to speak, coughed up blood, and tried again. “Was it really necessary to tie me up?”
 
He snapped the Kidou with a gesture and crouched in front of her. She was large enough that crouching put him at eye level. “You’re important. They left you here to die, didn’t they?”
 
“

Am

I going to die?”
 
He thought he heard fear in her voice. He looked to the sluggishly bleeding wounds on her side. He’d done his best to stop the bleeding for his quick little chat, but the Quincies hadn’t dumped her there to live. “Probably. Help me find the Quincies that did this.”
 
She bared her teeth in silent rage. “How?”
 
He reached forward, his hand hovering over her mask. “Show me.” He would have looked anyways, but this wasn’t the first time he’d done this, and this wasn’t the first dying adjuchas or arrancar he’d found in Hueco Mundo. He’d found dead ones, but sifting through that was a chore and a half.
 
His fingers made contact with her mask, la sangre calling to her heart. He closed his eyes, searching her immediate memory, searching for the things that haunted her. He didn’t want a culmination of her entire existence, just those select few days. It was like doing surgery with a baseball bat, but he tried. There was a lot of fear; fear of death, solitude, vasto lorde.

Quincy

. He gripped those memories and pulled, he knew it would hurt, but he hadn’t learned subtlety and she was dying, he didn’t have time to go slow.
 
The memories hit him like a wall, his grip tightening on her mask.
 
Snow, mountains, cold; these were expected. He saw white walls, and at first he thought they were painted, but then he realized it was marble. White marble. Roman columns, a dome. A marble dome? This looked like a church, he’d seen this before. Adaliz was a goddamned show off. He saw bars that arced with light, a prison that repelled hollows. He saw the blurred memories of Quincy, but he recognized no one. A blonde, one with round glasses. His stomach bottomed out.

Ishida

. He would recognize him anywhere. The one person he’d been dreaded seeing, and there he was. The disgust on his face only made him sad.
 
Her memories became jumbled and he drew back, swearing. She was dead, and again all he had were pieces and fragments. He put his hand on her mask in silent gratitude and left her there. They wanted her to fight for them and she refused, he had a lot of pride in her, in all the adjuchas and arrancar they’d thrown away. These hollows were strong, and they were dead for a war he wanted no part of.
 
His rage had only grown as time passed. How dare they steal from him? They captured and tortured

his

hollows. He didn’t even know if she needed them or was only doing it to piss him off, but it was working. They would pay for that.
 
He’d only considered Las Noches to be his, but as time passed, that was changing. Hueco Mundo belonged to him, Adaliz had no right to be there.
 
He glared up at the sky, hands tightening into fists.

“Save it for that bitch, King. Save it.”

At least now he had firm landmarks to share with Kisuke. They would find her, she was practically in his grasp.
 
—- xxx —-
 
Neliel Tu Odelschwanck

Baden-Württemberg, Germany

4 days later

It had taken some time to get there, but Kisuke was positive this was the right place. She couldn’t get too close to the abbey itself without fear of being discovered, this wasn’t even a town, it was a village, it was tiny. She stuck out here; teal hair, foreign, pretty, as Hirako said. There were a handful of tourists, but it was cold this time of year, she was one of few, and most were German tourists. She was worried she would get caught, so was Ichigo. Her orders were to get in and out without being noticed.
 
She had a small room for the night with a radiator in the corner, a shared bathroom down the hall, and the promise of breakfast in the morning. She sat on the edge of the bed, the springs squeaking in protest, and opened her bag, frowning down at the vials she carried. To any human, it was merely quartz sand. To anyone spiritually aware, it was reishi dense, and according to Ichigo, brimming with la sangre. The same way he could pinpoint power with blood, he could do the same with la sangre. Leaving this near their base would be as good as setting a bomb on their doorstep.
 
She had to wait, if she left it now, they would simply find it and be rid of it. She had to be careful and

wait

. She had plenty of money, so hopefully if she spent her days in the woods, that would be cover enough. They hadn’t planned on Adaliz being in a small town, but apparently this one appealed to her. She hadn’t been there long, only since the 80s or so, but long enough that she’d established herself here.
 
Nel zipped up her bag and shrugged it on over her coat, heading out into town. She was hungry, and the woman downstairs had been kind enough to give her directions to a restaurant. It was more like a pub that served food, but it was good enough.
 
She locked her door and went into town, dodging the stares that were shot her way. She got a table in the corner, assured them she had the right currency, and ordered some stew. She tried not to feel sorry for herself, but she was lonely.
 
She flipped through the book Kisuke had given her, sighing, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a woman slapped her hand down on the table, asking her something in German. She blinked up at her, eyes immediately drawn to her hair. Weird, her hair was weird. She said something to her in English, which she also didn’t understand, then saw the book. “Japanese?”
 
Nel’s eyes widened. “You speak Japanese?”
 
“You’re a lucky girl. I do.” She had an accent, German was clearly her first language, but she spoke it rather well. She helped herself to the seat across from her, her coat slipping to reveal a bare shoulder. She waved over at the bartender, calling for something in German, and from the hand gestures, she got something for both of them. She turned a confident smile back onto Nel. “I’m Candice.”

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
“You know,” said Ichigo, “the Grimmjow in my time had a scar that ran from here.” He touched his collarbone and made a slashing gesture down. “To here. Seeing you without it is strange.”
 
Grimmjow leaned back, following the gesture with his eyes. “Can I assume you gave me that scar?”
 
“Of course you can.” His eyes lingered on a phantom wound. “I always thought it was strange that you didn’t let it heal.”
 
Grimmjow glanced down again even though he knew there would be nothing. “What the hell made you think of that?”
 
Ichigo answered his question with another question. “Why do you think you did that?”
 
Grimmjow raised a brow. “Beats the hell outta me, Kurosaki. What were the circumstances?”
 
“I hit you with a Getsuga Tenshō in bankai, then you proceeded to beat the snot out of me.”
 
“You lost?”
 
Ichigo said, “I told you you beat me more than once, didn’t I?”
 
A puzzled look crossed his face. “Why didn’t I kill you?”
 
“Tōsen showed up.” Ichigo answered. “Apparently you acted without orders.”
 
Grimmjow laughed. “That sounds like me.”
 
“Cost you an arm too.”
 
“Really?

Motherfucker

,” he snarled.
 
Ichigo said, “So I’ll ask again; why?”
 
Grimmjow shrugged. “I’m impulsive, I dunno. Maybe you showed me a good time.”
 
“Are you being serious?”
 
“Yes!” He snapped. He continued with less of an edge. “If you were anything like you are now, I get it. I wouldn’t want to forget.”
 
It was simple, Ichigo really thought he should have expected that. Scars held a story, they were a reminder, a burden, he knew that better than anyone. He looked out at the desert and asked, “Do you think Adaliz left Mictlan’s grave as it is on purpose?”
 
Grimmjow frowned. “What are you on about?”
 
He gestured vaguely at the desert then sat back. “He’s still there, like it happened yesterday. Do you think she did that on purpose?”
 
There was a pause before Grimmjow spoke. “That’s some deep shit, Kurosaki, I don’t fucking know.”
 
Ichigo said, “She probably still loves him.”
 
“So what?”
 
Ichigo’s expression darkened. “So maybe I can use it against her.”
 
Grimmjow looked over at him, he could feel his eyes on him. “You really hate this bitch.”
 
“I’ve been neck deep in the hearts of the hollows she’s tortured and dumped like trash for weeks. Hate doesn’t even begin to describe it.” His voice shook with rage, la sangre shivering around him, echoing his desire for action.
 
To Grimmjow’s credit, he didn’t back away, but he did still. “So when are you going to kill her?”
 He glanced over at him and didn’t bother hiding a savage smile. “Soon.” He couldn’t help but say it fondly. She was so close, he felt it in his dreams, in the power that pushed down on their world. She was going to move soon, but they were ready, he had faith in Kisuke, in his Arrancar, in himself.

--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---

Kurosaki Ichigo

He swallowed, blood rushing in his ears. Her silhouette was seared into his retinas, merely looking in her direction was painful, so he turned his head away. She caught his chin in her hand, stopping him, her nails digging into his jaw.

Her iron grip was suddenly gentle, like the brush of a lover.

Her voice was silky soft.

Adaliz whispered, “I’m going to kill you.”

--- xxx ---
 
It took all of his willpower not to cut her arm off at the shoulder. Tensa Zangetsu howled to cut her, to crush the person who had caused him so many sleepless nights. After months at her mercy, she was finally within reach, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.
 
He growled, “You think I’ll let you?”
 
He forced a calm over himself. She didn't scare him, no,

she infuriated him.

“Calm down. This is part of the plan.”

They both moved simultaneously, but he was just a touch faster. Clearly she was unused to close combat, she was overconfident.
 
He reached for her throat and she backpedaled in sudden realization of his intentions.
 
His fingertips brushed her hair, and it was like touching liquid fire. He moved faster, all of Seireitei passing by in a blur. He finally grasped her throat, his hand burning, and called on la sangre with every ounce of his being.
 
Darkness streaked the sky, snapping shut around them like a bear trap. Her power roared against his, fighting him for control.
 
He understood now why Alteza kept him at a distance. This was an agony he'd felt before. When Alteza possessed him and la sangre ripped and tore at his soul, it hadn’t felt too different. He couldn't call on his blut to negate her attack, not when he was channeling la sangre and attempting to warp space.
 
He screamed in rage and pain, his soul quaking under the pressure of die Königin. After not feeling pain for so long, it was a shock of frigid ice. He knew where he wanted to take her, he held it in his mind, in his heart, and he forced her to comply.
 
He squeezed her throat, her nails tearing into his arm like talons. The darkness parted like ribbons of sea foam, and they were in Hueco Mundo. Now that she was within the belly of the beast, so to speak, the dark pressed in on her power the same way she had so recently been pressuring him.
 
They stood on a glassy expanse of sand, the reflection of the moon nearly blinding. They both knew who was frozen in death beneath their feet, she had been the one to put him there. It had taken months to override Alteza’s instinct for self preservation, but he managed it the same way he was now able to touch her at all.
 
The look on her face fluttered madly between anguish and rage. Even without sight, she knew exactly where she now stood.
 
She jerked back and Ichigo let her. If he hadn't, he might have risked losing a hand, and he wasn't sure how well his instant regeneration would hold up against a God. That didn’t mean he let her off scot-free. This all happened in a heartbeat; He took her distraction and used it, swinging his sword for her gut.
 
He hit her, he felt Zangetsu cleave through her defenses, even if it wasn’t as deep as he could have hoped. Hell, nothing short of scraping her spine would be deep enough.
 
She slid back, blood pattering onto Mictlan’s grave. She pressed a hand to her stomach with a ragged exhale. Her face twisted in grief, voice trembling. “I didn't take you to be a cruel man.”
 
He wanted to hurt her, she’d cut him off from his family, his friends. She’d taken adjuchas and arrancar alike, she wanted to kill the people he cared about. He asked, “Can you not face what you've done, even after all this time?”
 
She pulled her hand away bloody, but her blut kept her in one piece. She composed herself, her voice gaining strength. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Once I’m through with you, I can take
Geisterwelt. I’ve waited decades, what’s a few hours?”
She was a star in the night, and she only burned hotter in her rage.
 
She spread her arms wide, hundreds of eyes opening in the sky behind her. They were wide, searching, the pupils tiny pinpricks of light. Like the whispers of Alteza, there was a quiet hum in the air, a hissing scream that followed her power like smoke from a flame. “These shinigami think they understand,

they meddle

. How can you defend them?!”
 
Ichigo sucked in a pained breath. The light cut like daggers, but the intensity drew a deep shadow from his feet, and within it, Alteza roiled.
 
He drew his sword, a getsuga crawling along a razor’s edge. “I can’t condemn you for vengeance, Adaliz. I’ve taken my own, it’s a bittersweet thing. I can’t say I regret it.” He sunk lower in his stance, raising Tensa Zangetsu. “And I won’t deny that I’m a hypocrite, but I won’t let you kill them.”
 
She screamed, “YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID!”
 
A volley of arrows streaked from die augen der Königin, and without bankai, Ichigo doubted he would have been fast enough to stop them.
 
He loosed his Getsuga, cutting through the bolts of das licht directly before him. They weren’t destroyed, they were only deflected, shattering into the mirrored surface of his predecessors grave. The ground around him splintered and cracked with an ear shattering squeal.
 
Not all of them were stopped, more than half of them sliced through his slapdash shield, arcing at an impossible angle to strike from behind.
 
“

Shit

.” He twisted, throwing his sword up in a frantic arc. An unfocused blast of reiatsu deflected most of them, but they struck too close for comfort. More eyes opened in the sky, and they were no longer searching, they stared at him, unblinking and unwavering.
 
He could attempt to absorb the reishi of her attack, but not in this form. It was all he could do to defend, even on his home turf.
 
Adaliz raised her arms, a scream in her throat, but this time, the horizon was bright with thousands of eyes. The hum in the air clashed with Adaliz’s scream, and her fury shattered the sky.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
Kurosaki disappeared along with the soutaichou, and after Harribel and Zaraki took the initiative and followed behind, it opened the way for the rest to follow.
Cyan, Apacci, Mila, Thera, Zommari, and Ulquiorra loosely followed Harribel.
 
Grimmjow moved, and the Espada under his command shadowed him. Shawlong, Edrad, Yylfordt, Szayel, Pesche, and Starrk.
 
Kurosaki had gone over it with him and Harribel more than once, but this was still going to be tricky. They were going to be aiding Soul Society, and at the same time, they weren’t.
 
The hard part was going to be watching their backs. Kurosaki insisted none of them scatter too far from another Espada. If they were separated, it would only be easier to knock them down.
 
He sprang from the end of the garganta, landing on a rooftop in a crouch. He leaned on pesquisa to get his bearings, ignoring Kurosaki for now. He sensed multiple threats, all of them Quincy. A pillar of light shot up from the ground into the sky, Kurosaki’s standing orders easy to remember; Knock em down.
 
The Espada under his command joined him, staying close behind him. He shared a look with Harribel and she raised a hand, giving him a quick two finger gesture. That settled that.
 
Harribel went West and he went East, crossing Seireitei in a straight line. He could already smell blood, it seemed the Quincy hadn’t wasted any time at all.
 
He dropped down into the path of three white cloaked figures. They stopped, raising weapons of bright reiatsu. Grimmjow was happy they were kind enough to dress so differently from the shinigami, it made them easy to find. The shinigami behind him shouted something about Arrancar. He didn’t need to look, he knew his old Fracción had his back.
 
He heard the ring of steel and Yylfordt shouted, “Cut that shit out, we’re trying to help ya idiots!” Good to know they were already ungrateful.
 
One of the Quincy fired off an arrow, not aimed at him, but a shinigami behind him. He backhanded it, sending it into a wall rather than through its intended target. That shit stung like hell, but he didn’t let it dampen the smile that stretched his face. “Nah, you’re not fighting them anymore.

You’re fighting the Espada

.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Neliel Tu Odelschwanck
 
Even without the signal to move, she knew. She knew, because Candice was gone. All the Quincies were gone. In the brief time she’d stayed there, she’d begun to recognize all of them. She was so certain they would discover what she was, but they never did.
 
Now she was circling Saint Blaise, pouring vials of sand into the snow along the outer wall. It was a menial task, but it was more dangerous and necessary than it seemed.
 
She’d left something deeply important out of her reports. She wasn’t sure if she’d done it out of shame or fear.

Candice

.
 
She made sure she was alone, then uncorked and dumped another vial, her heart catching when her eye caught the little golden lightning bolt dangling from her wrist. She used to be the tercero Espada and she was reduced to tears over a

girl

?
 
No, not just a girl.
 
---
 
She turned a confident smile back onto Nel. “I’m Candice.”
 
Candice leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “So. What brings a pretty lady like yourself all the fuck the way across the alps?”
 
Nel was ready for that question, but she still wasn’t the most skilled liar. “Um...Research.” She tried to recall what Kisuke told her. “About the Abby.” She blushed, “It’s not that interesting. I’m a graduate.” She felt foolish tripping over her words, but it was an off day.
 
Candice raised her brows. “You’re a graduate student and you came up here

alone

?”
 
She felt her cheeks flush, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. “I did, so what?”
 
“Hey, relax, not a lot of women would have the guts to go off alone to a country where they didn’t even speak the language. I’m not even sure I’m that brave.”
 
Nel looked her over. “You seem pretty bold to me.”
 
She snickered. “Bold,

brave

? They’re not the same thing.”
 
Nel changed the subject. “You live here?”
 
Her face lit up. “Yep! I do a lot of traveling, but I’m based at the abbey.”
 
Nel raised a brow. “You don’t look like a monk.”
 
“I sure hope not.” Candice smirked. “The church is a business, and there are a lot of paying customers, I don’t have to subscribe.”
 
“Oh, I see. That explains the view.” Her eyes fell to Candice’s breasts, again.
 
Candice seemed proud, leaning forward on the table to give her a better one. The waitress came by with her stew and their drinks, of which Nel hadn’t ordered, but Candice seemed hell bent on her enjoying. She raised the glass, nearly as tall as her forearm and filled with a dark amber beer. “Cheers. It’s made here special by the monks. They’re nothing special to look at but damn if they can’t brew some beer.”
 
She hadn’t ever had beer before, but Candice seemed on board with it and she had nothing better to do...
 
Four hours and three glasses later and she was drunk as a boiled owl. Candice helped her find her B&B from the key in her pocket, and helped her back to her room. Staggering and stumbling through her giggles, she collapsed on the dinky little bed, pulling Candice down on top of her. She was really close, too close, but Candice didn’t seem to mind.
 
She straightened, tugging Nel’s boots off as she did. It felt like she was going to pull her entire foot off, but she eventually managed it. She pulled a spare blanket from the chair and threw it over her, leaning down to poke her nose. “Goodnight, liebling.”
 
Nel was already falling asleep, mumbling in return. “‘Nigh’, Candice…”
 
---
 
It was only when morning hit that she’d realized who Candice was.

What

she was. After a moment of panic, she’d decided to pretend she didn’t know. She liked her, she was fun, and following that silent decision, she spent every night with her that she could. The nights when she was ‘working’, she didn’t know what she was doing, but they were lonely ones.
 
She whispered, “Please don’t die, Candice.”

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Blood soaked his shihakusho, damp and cold, despite how warm the desert could be. He found that odd.

“It’s called blood loss, stop letting her hit you!”

Ichigo was incredulous. ‘

Yes, I

want

her to hit me, that was my plan all along.’

He shot back into sonido, dodging another round of arrows. Spinning Tensa Zangetsu, he deflected the arrows that he wasn't quick enough to dodge and he started to charge a cero, red light whipping around him. Technically, the plan was to draw her fire, and while he was confident in his ability to dodge, he hadn’t expected her to be quite so fast.
 
He moved and she ran like they were magnets, keeping her distance. She seemed to know if he caught her again, it would be more than trouble for her.
 
He gave chase, but while dodging arrows and fighting his own sluggish limbs, he couldn't catch her. He skipped in and out of la sangre, but so could she flash in and out of das licht. He jumped ahead, stepping from the dark, and shot his cero, a swath of red slicing through the night. She moved out of its path, exactly where he hoped she would go.
 
He reached out with an open hand, his fingers snapping tight into a fist. La sangre shot out from the sand to cut off her escape, but she slipped through his fingers like a minnow in the shallows. He growled in frustration. He’d never met someone who could match his speed before, but she matched him and then some.

“She calls on the light itself, it isn’t so strange she would share your speed.”

I feel like she’s stalling.

“It does seem that way. Pin her down.”

His attacks were huge and flashy, but ultimately this made them slower. Charging them took precious seconds, seconds Adaliz wouldn’t let him have. Her attacks were weaker, but there were just

so many

, they struck like needles. They kept coming, and while blut vene or his hierro might normally be enough to protect him from serious damage, they were the antithesis of each other, and their attacks ripped through each other like their defenses were nothing more than soggy paper.
 
He could use la sangre directly, but it was cumbersome, and he got the feeling she had the same reaction with das licht. They both seemed to use it to augment the abilities they already had, but she was holding back, he could feel it.
 
She fired another round, but he was tired of this game of cat and mouse. He held his ground, rushing forward instead of running, and she did something unexpected. She didn’t use das Licht to run away, she used it to call someone to her. She smiled, she didn’t move an inch, the light faded, and he was face to face with Ishida.
 
His sword stopped a hair's breadth from cutting Ishida in half, his eyes wide. Ishida seemed surprised to see him as well, he stared back with its as much horror and shock, although there was something about the way he looked at him.
 
He only paused for a fraction of a second, but it was the hesitation she’d needed. She loosed an arrow over Ishida’s shoulder and it struck him in the chest, pinning him to the sand several meters back. He gripped the arrow with a snarl, but it sizzled with a power that wanted nothing more than to reject him. “You bitch.”
 
She was breathing hard, but suddenly far more self assured. She made a chiding sound. “Come now, Ichigo, don’t pretend you’ve been playing fair.”
 
He destroyed the arrow pinning him down, but she shot him with another. He couldn’t feel pain, but she was pissing him off. Surely she didn’t intend to use Ishida as a shield?
 
He was so distracted by her and removing that arrow, he didn’t notice Ishida until he crouched beside him. He shot him a look somewhere between confusion and anger. Ishida said, “You once told me if I wanted to kill you, you would probably deserve it.” Ishida extended a hand, fingertips hovering just above his Zanpakuto, hesitating.  
 
His eyes widened in sudden realization. “

Ishida

.”
 
Adaliz ordered. “Do it.”
 
Ishida touched the blade and the effect was immediate. His reiatsu rushed into Ishida like an open current, but it wasn’t a perfect transfer, he had far too much reiatsu, it spilled over Ishida’s skin, slicing him apart from the inside. He was leeching his power, and Adaliz was right there behind him with a hand on his shoulder to steal it from him.
 
“

NO!”

He wrenched at the arrow lodged in his chest, but she loosed another arrow, pinning his wrist to the sand. It wouldn’t hold him back long, if anything it was only making him angry. He could simply let his sword go to free a hand, but his fingers were clenched tight around the hilt, presumably in the pain he couldn’t feel. He shouted, “Ishida, don’t do this! Stop!”
 
He wasn’t sure if Ishida even heard him, it didn’t look like his power was doing pleasant things to him. His teeth were clenched in a rictus of pain, his shoulders shuddering, blood sheeting over his skin. He didn’t even know how he was still alive after touching his reiatsu. He was happy he was, but taking reiatsu like that into his body should have destroyed him. It looked like it was.
 
He tried to lift his sword from his grip, but Adaliz stood on the flat of the blade. She laughed, flexing her fingers. “You might be Gemischt, but you’re still a Quincy in part, how curious. This is as it should be, darkling. Your power and mine to end the shinigami.”
 
“

She’s taking too much, Ichigo, do something!”

‘I know!’

He couldn’t say he had a plan to stop this short of what he’d always done. Overkill. He grit his teeth and growled, “Arrogant, bitch. Hueco Mundo is

mine

, you

will not

defeat me here!”
 
He pulled on la sangre, and it rose from the sand for miles and miles like a rising tide. Her eyes widened and she jumped back, taking to the air. He let it rise, pulling him and Ishida under. Her arrows fizzled out, crushed under the weight of la sangre. He kept pulling, wrapping it around them both like a hurricane. He needed a second to recover, one he couldn’t take if she bore down on him again.
 
He gave Ishida an ungraceful shove, snapping his pull on his power. He laid there, panting, and La sangre parted around Ishida, leaving him be. The Quincy was breathing shallowly and shaking like a leaf. “You idiot.” Did he want vengeance so badly he would even subject himself to this?

“Leave him! Fight!”

“Wait.” He sat up and reached for Ishida’s wrist, his fingers brushing his skin. His reiatsu was mingled with his own, leaking over like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. He muttered, “Goddammit, Ishida.” He didn’t have time for this, he really didn’t.
 
He hovered over him, then made his choice. “You better live, Ishida.”
 
He consciously reached for his chest to feel if his high speed regeneration had kicked in. It had, but when he couldn’t feel pain, you could never be too careful.
 
His own power was vastly drained. He had a lot, but Ishida has siphoned an impressive amount. Once again, more for Adaliz, less for him.
 
He hadn’t planned for Ishida to show up, but maybe this wasn’t as detrimental as he thought. He’d hoped he would have dealt Adaliz more damage by then, but it was possible his own rage had blinded him to the simple truth that he wasn’t going to. He should try now while he had a moment to breathe, before he was too weak.
 
He pressed his palm to the sand, extending his senses. The glassy lake of sand that held Mictlān was now a sea of jagged spikes, he could feel das Licht destroyed by her own hand. He smiled darkly, staring down at the sand, through it, eyes unfocused. His blood dripped steadily from his chin, darkening quartz sand. He could distantly feel Adaliz hammering his shield from above, but his attention was elsewhere.
 
He could feel Mictlān’s body, still humming with power, even so long after his death. It seemed Adaliz had outdone herself when preserving her love.
 
He raised his hand, fingers splayed as he hovered his palm. He found the command in his soul, buried someplace that didn’t belong to him anymore, a place that would belong to Alteza forever it seemed. He whispered, “Y-uln, Mictlāntēcutli.”
 
He stood, his hand raised before him, and snapped his hand shut, all of la sangre disappearing as he did. Not gone, it was merely elsewhere. The sudden disappearance of his shield confused Adaliz just as much as his laughter. It was a savage sound, wiping the blood from his forehead with a dark chuckle.
 
She snapped, confused. “

You’re mad,

why do you drop your defenses?”
 
Ichigo could feel the burn of das licht as she readied her arrows, but he didn’t look, his eyes were on the splintered spikes protruding from the sand, and the dark silhouette that stood among them.
 
He made a cutting gesture with his hand. “Nnn-n’ghft.” The silhouette moved, and he looked up to Adaliz, not needing to track his movement when he knew where he’d sent him. She raised her arms to block the sudden attack by instinct alone.
 
Mictlān’s arm blurred and she hit the sand with craterous force. Ichigo took a step with sonido, putting himself at the edge of the crater. She laid there, teeth grit together, and blood seeped from the wound in her gut. Ichigo said, “I couldn’t free him on my own, I’ll have to thank you for that.”
 
He wasn’t even sure she heard him. He knew what she feared, what she loved, and he had no regrets over what he’d just done.
 
She stared in naked horror. “But he’s dead, he’s dead-I KILLED YOU!”
 
Mictlān stood just to his right, eyes filled with black. He was Alteza’s puppet, the same as he was, and as he suspected, that didn’t end after his death. If Alteza could control him while he was still alive, he’d gambled that it would work even now.
 
He had a distinct feeling Mictlān was aware of what he’d done to him, his soul hadn’t completely faded, and he didn’t think he would be happy about it. He couldn’t seem to find the heart to care.
 
Mictlān moved under his command, standing directly before her. She staggered to her feet, taking clumsy steps backwards. Ichigo compelled Mictlān forward, lifting his own hand, his predecessor imitating the action, his fingers brushing her cheek. She froze, eyes wide in shock, and Ichigo moved, shamelessly using Mictlān as a shield.
 
She jerked back at the impact, eyes flicking down to the sword sticking through her chest, following the line of it through Mictlān to Ichigo. She coughed up blood, struggling to speak, but Ichigo could read her lips. ‘Monster.’

“She’s in no position to judge.”

snarled Zangetsu.
 
His answer to his inner spirit was dry.

‘Is she wrong?

’
 
No response.
 
Without any prompting from Ichigo or his will, Mictlān took a stiff step forward, staggering from the suction of his blade through his chest. Then he took another and reached for her. He gently pulled Adaliz into his arms, but he was already losing form and turning into dust.
 
It seemed there was enough of his soul left for one final gesture. He’d served his purpose, and now, maybe, he might get some kind of peace. It was the only real sympathy he could spare. Ichigo yanked his Zanpakuto free from both of them. He felt removed from the situation, distant, but he didn’t deny himself the feeling of savage satisfaction that rushed through his veins.
 
Mictlān crumbled away, returning to the desert, and without him there to hold her up, she crumpled to her knees. “I was-“ she coughed again, blood soaking white clothes a deep scarlet. “-so close…”
 
She fell forward, her power flickering along with the last beats of her heart. He almost forgot she was alive,

actually

alive. At this point, her blut wasn’t enough to save her. Her blood stained the sand and Ichigo bared his teeth through hollow rage. All of that suffering,

all of it,

for this?
 
He felt the moment her heart stopped; it echoed through his existence, a ringing truth that die Königin had lost its host. It filled him with baseless anger to know that he mourned her death, even if he didn’t want to. He’d felt her soul, she knew what it was like to hold power so absolute the world lost its luster. He denied those feelings, his grip on his sword so tight his arm shook.
 
He hissed, “Goodbye, Adaliz.” He felt tears on his face, chilled by the wind. If they were his own feelings or the echo of another, he just didn’t know.
 
He sighed, trying to let the anger go. His blut was still functioning, but not well. Blood still dripped from him in a steady stream, he didn’t have a lot of time. Ishida. He looked over at the Quincy, brows drawn in concern. He was still breathing, but he wasn’t conscious. He decided to risk it, waving a hand, la sangre flowing over him in a wave, sending him directly to Kisuke. It would be wildly unpleasant, but he was short on time, and if he just left him he might die anyway.
 
Turning back to Adaliz, he spoke aloud, there was no reason to speak in his mind. “Well...if this kills me, it’s been a joy.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Ichigo.”

It wasn’t entirely sarcasm, he was being half serious. Some parts of his life he could do without. He knew Zangetsu was only testy because he didn’t approve, he didn’t want this to happen at all.
 
Ichigo kneeled by her body, rolling her onto her back. Her eyes still glowed, even in death. She was still a part of die Königin, and it was a flicker of hope he needed to hope this would work. He was dead now, technically, but he’d once been alive, if it mattered, and he thought that it did.
 
He muttered, “Do I really need to take out her eyes?”

“The last time you were in the presence of the Hogyoku it reached out to you. It’s possible that won’t be necessary.”

He reached forward, his hand hovering over her face. He shuddered. Now that he knew what it felt like to be under the scrutiny of a God, he could feel its attention on him, sharp and hot. While Alteza felt like a creeping shadow, die Königin felt like being under the blaze of the sun without shelter. Alteza writhed inside him and he rocked back on his heels, trembling, fighting to keep control.
 
His veins burned with the lines of his blut, fighting to keep Alteza and his wounds at bay.
 
He wasn’t sure if die Königin sensed that internal battle, but he thought it might have. Small white stones about the size of her pupils rose from her eyes, the glow lifting with it. From between his fingers he saw that her eyes were blue, pale blue. She stared at nothing, eyes unfocused just past his shoulder. He looked away.
 
Digging up his courage, he braced himself, and he closed his hand around the twin stones. Agony laced through his soul.
 
It went on and on, and then...
 
nothing.

--- xxx ---
  
Translations:

Nnn-n’ghft : protect darkness

Y-uln : I call

Thanks for reading guys!

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
He woke with a jolt, blinking up at Ossan. His inner spirit stared down at him with that same unreadable expression, but he got the feeling he was pleased he was awake. He whispered hoarsely, “I’m alive.” That was blindingly redundant, but he was honestly surprised. That revelation was followed swiftly by pain.
 
He groaned, pressing his palms to his eyes. His head was pounding and his limbs screamed with pain. The damage Adaliz had done hadn’t healed, and functioning when he was stuck with more holes than a pin cushion was a challenge in and of itself.
 He wasn’t hollowfied, in fact, if he focused, he could feel his blut working overtime, and in response that Alteza was rebelling against it. Then he realized it wasn’t just his blut, it was something else. die Königin. Needless to say, he wasn’t in bankai anymore.  
Ossan ignored his redundant statement and said, “You’ve been unconscious for hours, the communicator you have is broken.”
 
“

Shit

.” That meant no one could find him, not easily, and his reiatsu was still at a level none could feel it. He struggled to sit up, reaching for his sword. He might feel like shit, but not enough to forget his Zanpakuto. Both swords lay close to Adaliz’s body, and he still couldn’t muster up any feelings of remorse. He sheathed his swords, hands shaking, and felt pathetically proud that he’d managed to do it.
 
Ossan watched him passively, then asked, “Is it wise to move as you are?”
 
“Probably not.” The change in angle and the attempt to speak spurred a coughing fit, and he doubled over, coughing until his diaphragm spasmed and he threw up. Nothing but blood. Lovely.
 
He sat back, panting, smearing the back of his arm over his face. He felt like shit, but at least he wasn’t unconscious for

days

this time around. His reiatsu was present, but if he was too ill to use it then what was the fucking point? He refused to bleed out in an open fucking grave.
 
He squinted through the headache, the desert seeming to be far brighter than he remembered. He looked up at Ossan. “Help me up.”
 
“You’re in no condition to do anything.”
 
Ichigo just stared at him, and he heard Zangetsu offer up an uncharacteristic bit of advice.

“I agree.”

He started coughing again, the blood clearly still not gone, so he spoke in his mind. ‘

I’m not done.

’

“You look done, King.”

He growled, but it sounded more like a grumble. ‘

For fucks sake, help me!

’ He looked up in time to see Ossan lowering to a knee before him. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “That is all we do, Ichigo. You are alive, but all is not well, surely you feel it?”
 
He could feel almost nothing else, he couldn’t argue with him. He asked, “What’s it like in there?”

“Bad.”

Ossan pulled his hand back, but left it between them, offering it to Ichigo. Accepting the help, Ossan hauled him to his feet and said, “The desert within you roils like the ocean, but it is no longer night. The sun rises and sets like the world is spinning too quickly.”
 
Ichigo pressed his hands to his eyes again, swaying on his feet. “That sounds bad.”
 
Ossan rumbled his agreement.
 
Ichigo could feel his body leaning on his Quincy power, it was likely the reason Ossan had manifested as opposed to Zangetsu. That meant opening a garganta was out. “How am I supposed to get out of here?” He honestly didn’t expect his inner spirits to have a better idea than he did, but saying it out loud when even thinking hurt seemed to help.
 
“Can you not push die Königin back?”
 
Ichigo didn’t even need to try to know how hopeless it would be. “No.”
 
“Then perhaps as Alteza once took a period to settle, so does die Königin.” That sounded reasonable, but that also meant he had to do this the old fashioned way. Ossan added, “It has been some time, it’s reasonable to assume the Espada retreated to Las Noches.”
 
Call for help. His favorite. He really was short on time, it was the only reason he sucked up his pride and didn’t just attempt to walk. He lowered his reiatsu, and even when he was this weak, it blanketed all of Hueco Mundo. He really hoped that pink haired maniac monitored the desert as closely as he claimed.
 
Minutes passed, and Ichigo finally deciding standing wasn’t worth it. More moments crawled by, and a schism opened in the world. Grimmjow stepping out of the garganta looking a bit worse for wear. He was still bloody, but not currently

bleeding

, so he took that to be a good thing. Ichigo could see the leftover adrenaline from battle gleaming in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, but he also saw exhaustion. At least he was in once piece.
 
Grimmjow glanced at Ossan, casually dismissed him, looked over to Adaliz, then finally looked back to Ichigo. “You look like shit.”
 
Ichigo’s voice cracked when he spoke. “I feel like shit.” He had a feeling it was only Grimmjow that Harribel sent since she knew how much he loathed showing weakness, and if it was going to happen, he rather it be Grimmjow than another.
 
Grimmjow was giving him an intense once over, something akin to shock and confusion on his face. “You’re not healing.”
 
Ichigo snorted. “No. I can thank

die Königin

for that. I can’t open a garganta, I need to see Kisuke.”
 
Grimmjow gave him a skeptical look. “Can you walk?”
 
“Yes.” He certainly hoped so, his pride could only take so much.
 
He took a step, feeling a good deal of pain, and wondered if the reason had anything to do with die Königin. He followed Grimmjow into a garganta, Ossan following closely beside him. He stumbled, but Ossan’s iron grip on his bicep kept him on his feet. Grimmjow pretended not to notice, he didn’t even look.
 
Ichigo asked, “What did I miss?”
 
Grimmjow seemed prepared for the question, and either he’d gone over it with Harribel or he’d gone over it in his head, but it was a concise answer. “We defended Seireitei with the shinigami, we knocked down most of the pillars, but for what seemed to be no reason, the Quincy retreated. Harribel assumed it was because you killed Adaliz. Looks like she wasn’t wrong.”
 
Ichigo could only assume that was correct. “Casualties?” He asked.
 
Grimmjow shook his head. “The shinigami seemed to have some, not sure how many. We almost lost Edrad and some arrancar whose name I don’t know, but they’ll probably be fine. None on the Quincy side. Some of them didn’t even take damage.” From the set of his jaw, he seemed deeply annoyed by this. “Saw the Soutaichou fighting some blonde guy. Looked more like they were talking rather than than fighting, but that guy got away without a scratch on him.”
 
Ichigo absorbed this, pleased they hadn’t lost anyone, although that did mean that the Quincy had been less focused on individual battles and had been more interested on the pillars.
 
Before he could ask another question, Grimmjow said, “You’re different.” He sounded certain, as if this were an undeniable fact. “What happened?”
 
Ichigo thought about that, a hand pressed to his temple, then started to talk. He decided to tell Grimmjow everything, starting from the beginning of the fight, his motivations, his fears, and they came up to the end of the garganta by the time he reached the part about Adaliz.
 
Grimmjow said, “Explains the eyes.”
 
Ichigo blinked and looked to Ossan for confirmation. His inner spirit said, “There is a glow in your pupils. Small, but present.”
 
At least it wasn’t so bad as Adaliz’s eyes, but it suddenly bothered him that he wasn’t sure if being a host is what blinded her or if she was already blind. Did her vision deteriorate over time? The unknown bothered him more than he would like to admit.
 
Stepping from the garganta, Ichigo used his inner spirit as a wall to cling to, but once he was on flat ground again he was more confident he wouldn’t fall on his face. Thankfully, Kisuke was waiting for him, and if Grimmjow felt confident enough to open a garganta in the middle of Karakura, Seireitei must have been hit hard.
 
Kisuke looked him over with a critical eye. “I take it you won?”
 
Ichigo snorted. “Obviously.” He couldn’t stop from asking, “How’s Ishida?” He’d felt a gnawing concern since he sent him away, but there was nothing he could do about it that he hadn’t already done.
 
The ex-capitan paused, hiding something, he was sure of it, and answered, “Better than he was. Orihime-san healed him as much as she could, but he’s still unconscious.” He gave Ichigo a pointed once over. “It looks like you could use the help as well.”
 
He opened his mouth to respond, but was struck with sudden agony. It rippled through his veins like lightning, searing his soul with pain he could hardly fathom. His muscles locked and spasmed, thrown so quickly into his own personal hell he hadn’t even been given the courtesy of screaming.
 
He knew he collapsed, or he imagined he must have, but he wasn’t aware of anything but the pain. He heard distant screaming, but he didn’t think it was him. It was a shrill sound that echoed inside his head, too many voices clamoring for attention. It almost made him nostalgic for the whispering of Alteza.
 
The voices grew louder, clashing with one another in an unsettling cacophony, and once again, he felt himself sink into oblivion.
 
--- xxx ---

He burst awake, sitting up with a gasp, and once that surge of adrenaline was done with, the pain caught up to him in a dull pounding inside his skull. It had him wrapping his arms around his head and curling into a ball, groaning.
 
“Kurosaki-kun...are you okay?” The waver in her voice gave away her fear, surely it hadn’t been that bad?
 
He didn’t move from how he was curled into himself, squeezing his eyes shut through the pain. Maybe it was because he hadn’t felt it in so long, but it was crippling, and the distant screaming hadn’t stopped. Besides the new layer of chaos in his mind, he now he had the lovely bonus of the whispering included beneath it.
 
He shuddered, and heard Ossan answer for him. “Let him adjust.”

Adjust. ‘You make is sound so simple.’

He felt the invasion of his soul, he’d known to expect it, but a theory was different than feeling it, he felt sick. Alteza he’d grown use to, he’d had to, but to feel the turbulence of both in his soul, muddying the waters and tugging on his will...he was panicking.

“Breathe, King.”

The order was harsh, and he realized then that he

hadn’t

been breathing. He made an effort to do that. Short, shallow breaths that he consciously struggled to smooth. His grip on himself was so tense, his muscles started to tremble. He had no idea how much time passed, but slowly, he beat down his panic, dissociating from it.
 
Bit by bit, he eased, but the voices in his head didn’t cease. Something about the way they clashed made him nauseous, as if hearing both together was enough to induce madness. That started to build his panic all over again, but Ossan’s hand on his shoulder was a sudden, welcome anchor. His grip wasn’t gentle, far from it. His fingers dug in so hard it ached, but it was the distraction he’d needed.
 
After some time, he heard a different voice. “

Kurosaki

.” Kisuke?
 
Hell, that felt loud. His grip on his head tightened and his hissed quietly, “Ssshhhh.”
 
“Kurosaki,” quieter this time, but just as urgent. “Your reiatsu is in danger of harming others, can you suppress it?”
 
He took a moment to wrap his head around that. He was going to hurt people? Ossan spoke in his mind, his hand leaving his shoulder.

“He is right, your reiatsu is quite low Ichigo. Spread it thin, or clamp down on it.”

Ossan’s voice didn’t seem to hold any urgency, but he knew it must be bad if he was repeating what Kisuke said. He tried to concentrate, realizing how low his reiatsu had fallen. It seemed this God was feeding on it like it was a snack, it was abysmally low.
 
He couldn’t imagine how claustrophobic it would be to draw his reiatsu into himself, so he cast it out as far as he could, lessening the pressure he assumed he was causing. It took a bit of time to sort through what he was feeling, but he knew he managed it when Kisuke spoke again. “Thank you.”
 
Time stretched on and on, but he was aware of very little outside of himself. He was conscious, but only just. Slowly, the screaming seemed to fade, enough that his grip on himself loosened, until he sat there, exhausted. He realized Grimmjow was in the corner, and he hadn’t noticed him until that moment. The Espada gave him a searching look, concern plain on his face. Did he also see fear? He wasn’t sure, his head still throbbed.
 
He wondered how long he’d been there, how long he’d been out of it. The room seemed dark, but it had definitely been daylight when he’d stepped out of the garganta.
 
Ossan answered his mental questions.

“He has not left your side. You have been unconscious for most of the day. Night has fallen.”

It was very terse and to the point, and for the moment, it was all he could handle.
 
He answered aloud. “Felt longer.” His voice sounded foreign to him, tired.
 
Grimmjow frowned. “What?”
 
He couldn’t find the energy to respond, so Ossan answered for him. “My wielder was in considerable pain.”
 
“I thought you couldn’t feel pain?”
 
Ossan spoke for him again, for which Ichigo was grateful. Even breathing felt like a chore. “Alteza has been pushed to the back of his mind, thus it could no longer hold the pain at bay.” He paused, then added, “Not all of it is physical pain.” Ichigo was hunched forward, leaning his weight on his knees, watching him through soul deep exhaustion.
 
Kisuke spoke from the doorway, Ichigo hadn’t even noticed him enter. That he couldn’t spare the energy to flinch spoke volumes.  “I’ve had time to think about it, and it seems that coming to the living world, along with daylight itself, aggravated and hastened your situation.”
 
“Die Königin is the light..” Ichigo muttered. “I should have known.”
 
Grimmjow growled under his breath. “He’s never been this tired before.”
 
Since Ichigo was nearly unresponsive, Kisuke turned to Grimmjow. “How unusual is this?”
 
“The last time he was on death’s door, he had enough energy when he woke up to fire a cero and nearly kill everyone around him. This isn’t normal.”
 
Ichigo noted that he sounded irritated, but his voice was strained. Maybe the Espada really was worried.
 
“Then it’s good Orihime-chan was here to heal his injuries.” He didn’t need to finish that statement, it would have been bad if he’d had that problem on top of soul-rending trauma.
 
Grimmjow continued, “

This was a mistake.

One fucking monster was enough, but you just had to go and get fucked by another one.”
 
Ichigo winced, Grimmjow’s rising voice wasn’t doing him any favors, and his words struck a bit too close to home, salting a still open wound. Zangetsu had some choice words to say in return, but he was currently trapped in his soul. He felt violated in more ways than one, but it was necessary to do this. The only thing that would stop Adaliz was death, and Alteza was right. There must be a host.
 
He thought his reaction unnerved Grimmjow, because the Espada got up to put himself in his line of sight. He could have grabbed him by the kosode, but he went straight for the throat. Typical.
 
Grimmjow’s hand tightened and he jerked him close, close enough that he couldn’t be ignored. Close enough Ossan didn’t react because Ichigo wasn’t concerned, but he noticed Kisuke shift his weight in his peripheral, his hand on Benihime.
 
Grimmjow hissed, “Why did you do it?” Ichigo said nothing, and his hand tightened around his throat in annoyance. With his reiatsu so low, he actually felt that, even through his misery. “Don’t look at me like that.”
 
Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep the weariness from his voice. “Like what, Grimmjow?”
 
The Espada’s expression shifted to one of anger, his grip increasing, but he abruptly froze, Kisuke’s sword lightly touching the side of his neck. “Kurosaki-san might be able to abide by this, but you are in

my home,

and I’ll politely ask you to unhand him.”
 
Grimmjow grit his teeth, then shoved Ichigo back. Ossan caught him, moving faster than Ichigo could just then by leagues. Ichigo lifted his hand to his temple, his headache surging with new vigor. He leaned forward on his knees and said, “I took the risk because I had to, Grimmjow. You think I’ve given up.” His voice still sounded wrong to him, like he was sick.
 
“Explain how that’s

isn’t

the case,” Grimmjow demanded.
 
Talking felt like more work than it was worth, but he considered Grimmjow a friend, and even through the haze of his own misfortune, he could see he was upset. He gave Kisuke a look, and after a moment’s hesitation, Kisuke made a disapproving sound and sheathed Benihime, stepping into the hall.
 
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Kisuke, but Grimmjow wouldn’t settle at all if he was forced to confront this with an outsider in the room. It was hard enough to talk to him without the Espada feeling the need to posture. Now that Kisuke was out of earshot, some of his own walls crumbled. He dropped his head in his hands again, aware that the room was dark, but it didn’t feel that way. The light stabbed into his eyes  “I knew what I was getting into, Grimmjow, either this kills me, or it doesn’t, but it had to be done.”
 
“Why?!”
 
He dropped his hands, leaning on his knees, and looked up at him. “Someone had to do it.”
 
“And it had to be

you

? You sonovabitch.” Ichigo’s brows furrowed at the insult, but Grimmjow barreled on. “The world didn’t crumble apart when there was no host in Hueco Mundo for fuck knows how long, you didn’t

need

to do this.”
 
Ichigo looked at him, struggling to think past the madness in his head. “Why are you so angry, Grimmjow? Are you angry because I didn’t tell you what I intended? Or maybe it’s because you think I’ll die?”
 
“You can’t die, not before I’m done with you!” he snarled. “Answer me!”
 
He winced again at the volume of his voice, closing his eyes through a stab of pain behind his eyes. His voice was low, but steely. “I hear you, Grimmjow. For the love of all things unholy,

please,

don’t shout.”
 
Ichigo kept very still, and it was enough to open his eyes again. Grimmjow looked distraught, clearly comfortable operating at a sound level just about a chainsaw, but he thought he saw guilt on his face. Grimmjow turned in a tight circle, contemplating leaving, then growled and sat directly before Ichigo, a scowl on his face. Everything was a battle with Grimmjow, he knew this would be no different.
 
Ichigo recognized the expression on his face. Disgust, determination, fear, rage...He wondered if Grimmjow was lowering his guard, or if it was simply getting easier to see past it. Grimmjow spoke at a normal tone of voice, baring his teeth. “Answer me.”

Why

. Wasn’t that always the question? Ichigo spoke quietly, but he knew Grimmjow heard him. “I did it because I had two options. I could let Adaliz live, which I wasn’t willing to do so. Or...I could kill Adaliz, and take her place. Balance.” Alteza wouldn’t shut up about it, between the ramblings of madness, and actual conversation, if it could be called that.
 
“You understand chaos, don’t you, Grimmjow? It sharpens your claws and boils your blood, you’re no stranger to it. If I left die Königin without a host, the path Adaliz started wouldn’t stop. She’s already tipped the balance so far, and once the Soul King is dead--and

it will

die--the souls fed to it will be freed. All of the Quincy. All of that power, straight into a wildfire Adaliz started that none of us would have the power to stop or slow. There was no one else, I had to try.”
 
He wasn’t sure if it was needed, but he added his own fears to the pile. “I’m still not sure if it was ever my choice at all.”
 
Grimmjow looked away, growling, “You stupid bastard...”
 
Ichigo smiled a ghost of a smile, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. “I haven’t given up, but I’m tired. I’m not bleeding out anymore...but another day of that-”
 
“So let’s go back.” Grimmjow’s voice bulldozed his own, cutting him short,
 
It seemed so simple, but that’s the way Grimmjow was. It was still strange to think of las Noches as home, but he did, and he did want to go home. “Not yet.”
 
“Are you insane?!” Ichigo flinched like he’d been struck, dropping his head to his hand. Grimmjow lowered his voice and tried again. “Why?”
 
After a moment of silent agony, Ichigo didn’t move, but he whispered, “I have to let it finish what it started.”
 
“You barely have any reiatsu left.”
 
Ichigo’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and Grimmjow snorted in derision. “It might still be above the level of a taichou, but compared to what it was, that leech is draining you fast.”
 
“You’re right, and Alteza wants me to live just as much as die Königin. Neither wants to lose their

precious

host. Either they learn to share, or I die. There isn’t anything I can do about that.” He paused and said, “Although the reprieve is nice.” He finally dropped his hand from his eyes, seeing Grimmjow glaring at the wall with fiery hate. “If my death really does end up this pathetic, do me a favor and lie.”
 
Grimmjow snapped, “I ain’t going to lie for your suicidal ass.”
 
Ichigo let out a breathy snort. “You would.” He closed his eyes again, the screaming still clawing at the backs of his eyes. He didn’t really want his friends to see him like this, it shattered his pride just to think about it. Grimmjow was different, he was the exception. “I’m glad you’re here.” If he might die, he wanted to get that out. It meant a great deal to him that Grimmjow was there, that he’d stayed with him even when he could do nothing.
 
“Shut up, “muttered Grimmjow. For once keeping his goddamned voice down.
 
Ossan remained as a silent bystander, and Grimmjow remained where he was, watching Ichigo with a different expression. This one was thoughtful, annoyed, he’d seen it more than once, but only recently had Grimmjow stopped trying to hide it. If this was his last night alive, he could spend it in worse ways.
 
Shouting done with, Kisuke eventually came back. Ichigo essentially barred him and anyone else from the room, there was nothing they could do anyway. He wouldn’t face his friends with one foot in the grave. Maybe that made him a coward, but Grimmjow had brought something important to his attention; Some part of himself expected to die. He wouldn’t indulge that weakness, he wouldn’t lie down and give up.
 
And so he wouldn’t say goodbye.
 
This was just a night, and tomorrow was just another day. He wasn’t going to die, people still needed him, but above that,

he wanted to live

. He cared about too many people to just accept this was it.
 
Grimmjow sat with him in silence in the dark, and gradually, his fears were eased.

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
The sun rose, and the brighter the sky became, the more his anxiety grew. He thought maybe he would have had more to say, but there was nothing he hadn’t already said. Kurosaki wanted him to stay, so he stayed, and he hoped he hadn’t just been invited to watch him die. He was already weak when he’d collapsed the first time, and even if the night was something of a reprieve, the sun was rising, and he would be back where he started.
 
Even weak, his reiatsu stretched on for miles and miles, easily blanketing the city in his presence. It wasn’t an oppressive feeling, it just was, but with Kurosaki as distracted as he was, a little bit of himself leaked into his power. He felt a shadow of his pain, but he no longer felt the ache of defeat. Now he only felt cold determination. All these feelings were subtle enough that he doubted anyone short of those that knew him well would feel it at all, but it was undoubtedly there.
 
It took all of his willpower not to ignore his requests and simply drag him back to Hueco Mundo. At least there, where there was no sun, Kurosaki had been more himself. Instead, he had to watch him suffer, he had to watch the one person he equated to a God become mortal.
 
That was dramatic, but it felt no less true. The things he’d done without fear made him reevaluate his own life in disgust. Kurosaki felt fear, he smelled it on him more than once, but not about death, or sacrifice, or battle. He was wrath itself; Kurosaki had faced a God, torn it down from its throne and devoured it. Like hell would that kill him, Grimmjow refused to believe that.
 
Kurosaki curled in on himself, arms wrapping around his head again in agony as the first light of the sun spilled in through the windows. He leaned forward before he was lost to the pain and hissed softly. “

Live

. I’m not done with you yet.”
 
He leaned back sitting close by. His inner spirit didn’t betray any conflict or emotion in his voice, but Grimmjow noticed he stood closer to his wielder than before. “He heard you.”

Goddamn you, Kurosaki.

--- xxx ---
 
The day stretched on, and where Kurosaki had been sitting upright, he was now curled on his side, trembling. With so much time to watch as a mere bystander, occasionally he asked his inner spirit how he was doing. It turned out he was manifested for a couple of reasons. One was to defend Ichigo when he was so vulnerable, but another was as a warning system to his friends. If he disappeared, that meant things were either getting worse, or better. How frustratingly vague.
 
He hadn’t moved from the room, but he had stood hours ago to pace, so when Kisuke opened the door, he was gratefully at eye level. The captain warned him. “A senkaimon opened above the city. I can only assume they’re here for him.” His eyes flicked to Kurosaki, to his inner spirit, then back to Grimmjow. “I take it you intend to defend him?”
 
Rage sparking, Grimmjow reached for Pantera on reflex. “Save their fucking ass and

this

is how they repay him?” He hissed through his teeth. “

Assassination

?”
 
Kisuke said, “He’s a threat, and he’s weak. With as far as he’s stretched his reiatsu, it was only a matter of time before they noticed.”
 
Grimmjow pushed past him and bit back a snarl. “Making excuses?”
 
“Hardly.” The shinigami didn’t seem to take his attitude personally, following him down the hall. With Kurosaki’s reiatsu muddying his senses, he hadn’t known how many other people were there, but he was shocked to find a small crowd in the front area of the store. His usual friends, minus the Quincy, but there were about eight others with a dark twist in their energy. Other visored?
 
His surprise must have been clear on his face, because the blonde one, Hirako? He gave him a wry look and said, “What? Did you think you’re the only one who has a beef with Soul Society?”
 
He said that, but from the tense angle of his shoulders, he was as angry as he was. Seems the moron’s desire to protect these fucks wasn’t for nothing, the visored actually seemed like they wanted to be there. “Just stay out of my way, shinigami.” They might be on his side for now, but he still kept his distance.
 
“Visored,” he corrected.
 
Orihime took a few steps around the visored, the look on her face expectant. Grimmjow offered, “He’ll live. Bastard still has too much left to do.”
 
She set her jaw, accepting that with more grace than he’d expected, but said nothing. It didn’t seem she was going to participate, but if someone needed healing, he’d seen how useful she could be on multiple occasions, it was for the best she stay behind.
 
Kisuke looked irritated, but he didn’t look like he was going to get involved. He looked to the big one. “Hacchi, if you would be so kind.”
 
The pink haired visored raised a barrier around the shop, himself, the princess, and Kisuke included. Grimmjow felt even better about leaving Kurosaki behind. He wasn’t undefended. It felt strange knowing he needed defending, but once he got through this--and

he would

--he couldn’t imagine anyone standing in his way.
 
Through Kurosaki’s pained reiatsu, he could sense the reiatsu of several captains. He didn’t wait around for anyone to tell him what to do, nor did he hang around for anyone to back him up. He stepped into sonido, meeting them in the sky before they could get any closer.
 
He stood on reishi not a hundred yards away and drew his sword; he wasn’t waiting for a goddamned invitation. The shinigami he faced did the same, a huge, crazy looking bastard with an eyepatch calling him out. “

You’re it?

I was hoping for more of a fight.”
 
One with a hat held his sword out parallel to the ground, miles below them now, motioning for him to back down. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into turning Kurosaki over to us?”
 
“Go fuck yourself,” he snarled. Grimmjow held his fingers to the flat of his sword, grinding them over the blade. “Grind, Pantera!” He skipped straight into his segunda etapa. He didn’t care what Kurosaki said, he was going straight for the kill. These people lost the right to live when they threatened his king, their God even, if he was feeling generous. And he was.

So fucking generous.

His reiatsu coiled around him in oppressive swaths of blue, jagged and chaotic as flame. Behind him, he felt the sudden presence of the visored, each of them drawing their weapons with a whisper of steel. He didn’t trust them like his own Fracción, it made him edgy to have them at his back, but he wasn’t willing to tear his eyes from his actual opponents.
 
Hirako whistled. “That’s some reiatsu you’ve got there, Blue.” All he earned in response was a growl and the eager flexing of his claws.
 
The sight of the visored seemed to startle the shinigami, at least a few of the older ones. The one with the hat frowned, unsettled. “Hirako. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
 
“I can’t say the same.” Hirako’s tone grew a shade darker. “Go home, Shunsui.”
 
Shunsui’s expression fell. “You know I can’t do that.”
 
“Then you know what’s gonna happen next.” Hirako took a step forward, and Grimmjow couldn’t help but glance back, watching his mask form over his face, his power free falling into the reiatsu of a hollow.
 
He looked back at the shinigami and growled, “I’m done talking.” He lurched forward, moving at a speed that would challenge even Kurosaki, if not a Kurosaki that hadn’t gone into bankai. He was suddenly behind the big, insane one with the eyepatch. He knew he’d moved into his blind spot, but the shinigami was already facing him, catching a clawed hand with his own crushing grip. Grimmjow’s eyes widened in shock, knowing there was no way the man could have tracked his speed.
 
The man’s mouth spread into a crazed grin. “Not bad, alley cat, maybe I’ll even enjoy myself.” He slashed with his sword, if the rusted piece of junk could even be called that, but Grimmjow was faster, jumping up and out of the way. Was that even a Zanpakuto?
 
During the span of his attack, chaos had broken out. The visored had chosen their targets, separating into pairs to fight one on one. Grimmjow’s attention was focused solely on the man before him, dodging a downward slash. The killing intent behind each of his strikes was so intense, he wondered if the man wasn’t a hollow himself.
 
He dodged his strikes, getting into the rhythm of his attacks; mainly that there wasn’t one. He’d had a sparring partner that was faster and stronger than him for years now, even if he was surprised the man caught his attack, he didn’t let it slow him down.
 
He stayed low, ducking beneath a blow meant to behead him, and slashed his claws across his back. He felt the satisfying feeling of his claws raking over bone, gone before his sword could impale him. Fast, but now that he was watching, he was only reacting out of instinct. If there was one thing he could understand, it was instinct.
 
He charged a cero between his claws, but the man didn’t move, he only laughed, inviting Grimmjow to hit him. What the fuck? He was too angry to bother with making this a good fight, if he had a deathwish, so be it.
 
He fired his cero directly at him, streaking the sky in a swath of blue power. He’d hit him nearly point blank, if he wasn’t hurting after that he wouldn’t know what to do.
 
One of the visored barked, “Watch it!” as his power cleared from the sky.
 
Grimmjow was hunched in a crouch, his tail lashing from side to side in agitation. He would have continued to attack, but he’d rather assess what damage, if any, he’d managed to cause; the man was built like a tank. The reishi filtered away to reveal the shinigami was still standing, his chest bare and dripping blood, but it wasn’t as bad as it should have been.
 
A smile stretched across the shinigami’s face, he started to laugh, loud and raucous. Maybe in a different situation, he could empathize, but he was simply angry, he took away very little joy from this fight.
 
His eyes narrowed as the man reached up for his eyepatch. “I thought I’d be saving this for someone else.” He tore it from his face.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Ichigo Kurosaki
 
Standing on the cracked surface of a building, Ichigo could see what his inner spirits were on about. The sand shifted, revealing the crumbled tops of buildings, before rising and burying them under a mountain of coarse, obsidian sand. The sun was remaining in the sky for longer and longer periods of time, but he realized with each cycle, it dropped further into the shadow of an eclipse. Visually, it cast disturbing shadows across his mental landscape, disorienting when the landscape wouldn’t stop moving. He wasn’t fond of the change, but it didn’t seem the eclipse had anything to do with a loss of control, he could still feel die Königin just as strongly as Alteza, if not more so.
 
Inside his mind, the pain was dulled, if not very present. He stared up at the sky, the chorus of screams sounding like one long, disturbing hymn. He thought there might be words present there, but his mind was too addled to focus.
 
Zangetsu paced behind him, eager for a fight where there wasn’t one. “I agree with the cat, this was a mistake.”
 
Ichigo let out a sigh. “I’m part Quincy, it’ll be enough.”
 
“You barely survived the last God, and now you want to play tug of war with your soul?”
 
Watching his hollow pace, Ichigo tried not to sigh. “It’s too late, what’s done is done.”
 
Zangetsu snarled, “Don’t remind me.”
 
Ichigo had a feeling Zangetsu would have had his first in his face by then if he didn’t already know how much pain he was already in. It was the little mercy’s. He was only there because he couldn’t stand the pain, and at least here it was lessened, and Zangetsu’s bitching was comforting in the sense that it was expected and familiar.
 
Ichigo said, “They’re loud. I think they’re talking to each other.” He felt Zangetsu’s eyes on him in question. “I don’t understand them.”
 
Zangetsu turned an acidic glare on his surroundings. “That better be a good thing.”
 
“If die Königin is as interested in balance as Alteza, I think they’ll be able to learn to share.” Standing suddenly felt overrated. He sank down to the glass, sitting down to watch the battle for his soul.
 
Zangetsu turned to look when he sat, frowning at him. Ichigo could feel the concern in his hollow, his helplessness. Even if he took over his body, nothing would come of it. “I’m fine.”
 
His hollow let out an incredulous snort, muttering, “

Fine

...”
 
The conversation lapsed for more than a few minutes, it went on for what felt like hours, pain chewing at the fringes of his soul. Suddenly, the whispering ceased, and all that remained were distant, disembodied screams.
 
Zangetsu stopped, scowling at the sky, but his attention quickly refocused on Ichigo. “King…”
 
Ichigo knew what was about to happen, he could feel it as clearly as he felt his own heart. He gave Zangetsu a stiff smile and a small two finger salute. “See ya on the other side.” He was ripped from his inner world, his consciousness pulled down deeper into his soul, to the place die Konigin and Alteza stretched the tendrils of their influence.

--- xxx ---

Ichigo opened his eyes, squinting in the sudden glare of sunlight...no, not sunlight. No matter how much he blinked, he saw nothing but white, light cutting past his eyelids even when he screwed his eyes shut. He lifted his arms to block it out, realizing he wasn’t lying on the ground at all, he wasn’t anywhere at all. Slowly, he adjusted, even as the light glared down around him, and saw the fuzzy outlines of eyes. He wondered how he could see them when it was so bright, but realized he was seeing them with another sense, not his eyes.
 
The howling of voices still buzzed in his ears, stretching out around him for what felt like forever, but it was slowly becoming as omnipresent as the whispers of Alteza. He asked, “What are you doing?”
 
The screaming pitched, but the understanding was clear in his soul.
 
BALANCE.
 
Balance. What he’d both hoped for and feared. He could understand it, no matter how much it hurt; he’d spent the majority of his adult life in pursuit of it without realizing. Zangetsu and Ossan were always pushing and pulling his soul in one direction or another, but only recently had it mattered. He felt it more strongly than ever now that die Königin was pushing Alteza aside.
 
He muttered, “Just don’t kill me you sonovabitch, I’m not done yet.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kisuke
 
Kurosaki’s friends hovered in the front of the shop like they were lost. They wanted to be near his side, but Kisuke had dissuaded them should Kurosaki wake and not recognize those around them. Any stress they could lift from his shoulders was worth it, in the end. They had gotten stronger, but strong enough to hold back a God? He didn’t think so. Inoue’s ability was incredible, confusingly so, but he had no idea how it would hold up against the same force that had granted her that power.
 
They stood there, Inoue occasionally glancing to the room Ishida slept in. From the dark circles under her eyes and the despair on her face, she knew what ailed him all too well, but refused to acknowledge it. Until the problem at hand passed, there was nothing to be done for Ishida.
 
Hacchi stood with his nose practically against his own barrier, his head tilted skyward. He knew the visored wasn’t too pleased about being left behind either, but his abilities were better suited for defense.
 
Mere moments passed before he could feel the reiatsu of Kurosaki’s arrancar flare, along with that of the visored. It was more powerful than he might have guessed, so he didn’t think the group would have a problem with them. That aside, he didn’t think Soul Society would simply send one group to attack straight on. The ones that concerned him were the Onmitsukidō, particularly the Keigun. If he knew them, and he did, they would have been sent hours in advance.
 
His defenses were good, but he wouldn’t be called a fool either, this would require him to be more hands on. Hacchi put up a barrier, but that wouldn’t deter anyone that was already there. Clearly the three hadn’t considered that option, but the moment Kurosaki was forced to spread out his reiatsu, he knew they would come.
 
He caught Sado’s eye and said, “Sado-san, sit this one out. I can’t afford to rebuild my entire shop.” The teen gave him a confused look, but nodded. Kisuke had always been fond of that one, it didn’t take more than a few words for him to accept any given situation.
 
He turned down the hall, meeting a small black cat halfway. She hopped up onto his shoulder and said, “Four, including Soifon.”
 
He whistled, “Only four? They’re losing their touch.” He spun his cane around to rest in the crook of his arm. Whatever was wrong with Kurosaki, there was nothing more any of them could do for him. He could feel the remnants of power around him, it wasn’t a flawless conversion, but the power itself was beyond what he could feel. The visored felt as weak as a kitten at the moment, it was no wonder Soul Society was taking their chance. “Which of us will deal with Soifon?”
 
“I will.” She hopped down from his shoulder, padding down the hallway to the front of the shop. That out of the way, he raised his hand in a gesture, fueling his Kido, and sent out a burst of reishi, undermining the efforts of any attempting to escape detection.
 
The Kido camouflage the Keigun were using fell apart, revealing one at the end of the hall. His cover had barely even finishing sparking out of existence before the shinigami lunged to strike. Kisuke stepped aside, spinning his cane and bringing it down over the back of his neck. He fell unconscious, and two more engaged him. They were hoping a cramped fighting space would improve their odds. It didn’t.
 
They joined the first on the ground in a heap. He’d idly entertained killing them for trespassing, but he decided it sent a stronger message to send them unharmed. Kurosaki didn’t want to kill any shinigami if he could help it, and this might be his home, but given they were sent here to assassinate the visored, it was worth it to respect his wishes.
 
He had no doubt Yoruichi would be able to take down Soifon, but it all felt too easy. They should have known engaging their previous commanders in hakuda was a pointless exercise. Unless…

Mayuri

.
 
He turned to Kurosaki’s room, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Kurosaki’s inner spirit stood only inches from his wielder’s shoulder, his eyes raising to meet Kisuke’s. If Kurosaki was aware, he was a good actor.

Kisuke asked, “Have you sensed anything unusual?”
 
“My own sensing abilities are dampened, I’m not fully exempt from the pain.”
 
That explained the proximity, it was a gentle way of saying he didn’t trust his own senses, and that Kurosaki’s own reiatsu interfered with them just about as much as anyone else.
 
He interpreted that answer as an invitation and stepped into the room, tracing the circumference of the room with his fingertips on the wall. He paused near the window, but he was only feeling Yoruichi’s reiatsu.
 
He completed his circuit of the room, then looked up. He stepped further into the room, eyes on the ceiling, but was stopped by Kurosaki’s Zanpakuto’s hand on his chest. He looked down, and straight into flat white eyes. Kurosaki was panting, curled on his side, but something was prepared to attack him. Whatever he was looking at, he was looking through Kurosaki to see it.
 
He felt a shiver in his soul, and took a cautious step back, giving the spirit a grateful look. It would be a damn shame to be killed by a God, and likely not the least bit exciting.
 
He left the room, heading to the second floor. He stopped directly above Kurosaki, squinting to get a better look at the Kido in place. That explained why the shinigami had been simply waiting around; their mission was technically complete. It was very well made, it’s no wonder Yoruichi missed it.
 
He jabbed it with the end of his cane, the dome concealing it flashing lilac. He caught a glimpse of the object inside, eyes widening. He knew Mayuri was a crazy bastard, but he was looking at what amounted to a bomb.
 
If Hacchi weren’t here, this bomb could easily take out blocks of the city. If they were willing to involve humans, they must have deemed Kurosaki to be very dangerous indeed.
 
He felt a surge of reiatsu from Yoruichi, gritting his teeth in annoyance. The Kido dome was protecting it from ambient reiatsu, but anything heavy would set it off. It was a miracle Kurosaki hadn't accidently set it off already. “Tessai.” The man had been shadowing him since he’d left the front room, quietly observing from a distance. “Please tell Yoruichi-san to kindly mind her reiatsu.”
 
He got a stiff affirmative, and he returned his focus to the bomb. He set a hasty barrier on the room, feeling the sweat bead on the back of his neck. He crouched down before it, hovering a hand over the dome, analyzing the reishi content very carefully. If he could neutralize it, that would just be one step taken care of. It was one thing to neutralize an attack in battle, but to neutralize a tight fitting dome without setting off a bomb? That gave new meaning to the word delicate.
 
He ran his conclusions over in his head more than once. He was never wrong, but there was a lot at stake. He placed his hand against the dome, and let out a controlled burst of reiatsu. The dome flickered out with a dancing of lilac sparks. Light refraction destroyed, he could now see the bomb in full.
 
Nothing happened.
 
He let out a heavy exhale, flexing his fingers. Time to diffuse a bomb.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Zangetsu no Ossan
 
It was disconcerting to have his senses so thoroughly dampened, but it was an unexpected turn that he was allowed to protect his wielder.

Allowed

. He didn’t often agree with his hollow counterpart, but he was more than annoyed by the Gods’ residence in Ichigo’s soul.
 
At one point he’d been the malignant intruder, but no longer, and he despised what they did to him. He could do nothing but watch as they ravaged his soul. At least he had the small comfort of watching over him, no matter how necessary it might be. As with Alteza, whatever die Königin was doing to Ichigo, it was fully intent on protecting its host. Had Urahara stepped any closer, he might have been killed.
 
Seeing how serious the shinigami had been, and feeling the flare of reiatsu in Karakura, he had no doubt his wielder was at serious risk. He had no doubt he was allowed to manifest because they were aware he wouldn’t impede their progress.
 
It went against all of his instincts to let them tear Ichigo apart, but he understood the necessity. Standing guard over Ichigo, time held little meaning to him, he watched carefully both within his soul and outside of it as he was changed. Where before his presence in Ichigo’s soul was pressured, both intentionally and not, the push and pull of his power was slowly stabilizing.
 
He looked up at the open door when one of the shinigami stirred, groaning. The masked man got his bearing, and finally noticed him, jumping to his feet in a defensive position. Zangetsu didn’t move, even unconscious, this man was no threat to his wielder. That no one in the hall moved to stop him, he could only assume their attention was drawn by the fight outside.
 
Out of foolishness or false hope, the man took this to be a good sign, and stepped into the room, inching closer to his sleeping ward. The shinigami stepped within a three foot range, and Kurosaki fixed this potential threat with dimly glowing eyes.
 
The shinigami finally gained a bit of sense and paused, looking to Zangetsu, then the door. He decided to verbally warn him, aware his wielder would not be happy of any deaths that occurred outside of his control. “If you value your life, do not come any closer.”
 
The man narrowed his eyes, but seemingly dismissed his threat. He took another step forward, but the threat was apparent, and he misjudged die Königin’s tolerance.
 
With the unpredictable nature of a God and at a speed that rivaled his own, Ichigo’s body moved. Ichigo moved stiffly, without any of the grace he knew Ichigo possessed. His hand snapped out to clamp over the shinigami’s face, still frozen in his lunge.
 
He was beyond grateful that his wielder was not cognizant of what happened next.
 
Die Königin absorbed the reiryoku directly from the shinigami’s existence. He was torn away in ribbons, his scream cut short when he no longer had lungs left to scream with, absorbed directly into Ichigo’s power. His wielder collapsed, but he was already at his side, catching him in his arms. It took only seconds, long enough for Ichigo’s friends to cross the hall to the door.
 
The girl had taken a single step into the room before he warned, “No! Ichigo’s consciousness is

not

present.” They couldn’t die, least of all by Ichigo’s own hand; he would not be the one to cause Ichigo so much pain. She was pulled back into the hall by Chad, and held there with a firm hand on her upper arm. Chad’s attention was torn between the other shinigami moaning on the floor, and Ichigo.
 
Zangetsu took a few steps back into the room, laying Ichigo back down on the floor. He straightened, feeling a tug of disappointment in himself that he had failed. He looked back at the pair and said, “Do not tell him of this.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but judging from the look on the girl’s face she understood why he’d demanded it.
 
Inoue stared sadly down at Ichigo, then asked, “How is he?”
 
He stared at her a moment, then admitted, “I cannot say.” He truly didn't know, he was at a loss. Ever since Ichigo had been pulled deep down into his soul, even beyond where they could reach, he was just as much an outsider in this as they were.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Screaming. Wails that should raise his hackles and compel him to shrink back and hide from whatever misery had befallen the pitiful thing that made them. That wasn’t what he felt at all. They were almost soothing, a haunting lullaby. If that was something to worry about, he couldn’t be sure, he just knew that the screams

were

. The existed as solidly as the whispers. So woven into his soul he knew they could never be ripped away.

Panicfeargoaway

safesafesafe

SAFE

nnn-wgah'n

thehostissafe

whole

COMPLETE
 
Sucking in a sharp breath, Ichigo blinked up at the sky. Sky? He thought it was the sky, it was so bright. Compared to the usual, waking up was largely uneventful. Lines of color wove in and out of his vision, and he realized he was looking through the ceiling, straight at the reishi around him. He blinked, feeling a wave of nausea. He felt like he was moving, but that wasn’t the case, everything else was moving around him, and it turned his stomach.
 
“Are you awake?”
 
His eyes snapped to Kisuke, then through him, his eyes tracing his Zanpakuto. He could see the silhouette of Benihime through the cane, the true form of his sword clearly visible to him, as were the condensed souls within it. There was just so much to look at.
 
“Kurosaki?”
 
He finally met Kisuke’s eyes, or tried to. He only managed that for a second before he was distracted again by what lay before his friend. His eyes widened. “What is that?”
 
“What do you see?”
 
“Energy. Lots of it.” He struggled to sit up, eyes roaming again. He looked down, then promptly shut his eyes, catching himself with a hand at the sudden rush of vertigo. Looking down was bad, he could see

through

the ground. Needless to say that was massively disorienting. He grumbled, “Maybe the bitch blinded

herself

. This is nauseating.”
 
Sitting up with a bit more confidence, his gaze returned to the device before where Kisuke knelt. It was something technological, beneath all the angry looking reishi. He repeated. “What is that?”
 
Kisuke seemed torn on responding, but Ichigo thought he told him the truth. “It’s a bomb.”
 
Whatever color had returned to Ichigo’s face promptly drained away. “What?” He heard him, but the implications were...rage inducing.

“Try to stay calm, Ichigo.”

“What happened?” He was asking both his inner spirit and Kisuke, whoever decided it was worthwhile to answer first.
 
Kisuke beat Ossan to it. “It seems Soul Society has decided that you are enough of a risk to attempt to eliminate you regardless of casualties.”
 
Rage didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling. Rage with a sprinkling of guilt.
 
What if his sisters had been here? What if Kisuke hadn’t found it?

“Now can we kill the fuckers?”

Ichigo didn’t have a response for his hollow, but he was feeling distinctly homicidal. “What else?”
 
Kisuke’s eyes flicked to the wall, and Ichigo followed his gaze straight through the wall to the person that lay unconscious in the courtyard. Even through the distraction of reishi ribbons and light, he recognized that reiatsu. He growled, “Soifon. The Onmitsukidō.” He should have known, especially after Yoruichi had stolen from them.
 
“We dealt with them, but if you’re inclined to let them live, they will likely try again.”
 
The tone and texture of Kisuke’s words drew his attention, fixing Kisuke with a hard look. “If?”
 
“No one is strong enough to stop you, Kurosaki-san.” He spoke those words carefully, maybe even regretfully.
 
Ichigo clenched his jaw, eyes settling again on the bomb. “I’m sure you could think of something, you’re smart.” He didn’t like the reminder that if he really wanted to, he could be all Aizen was and then some. Who’s to say he wasn’t simply following in his footsteps? He had Hueco Mundo, and now he had the Quincy, but he wasn’t done yet. Hell yes he knew he was dangerous, but it did nothing to dampen his fury. He should have known his actions could have consequences that involved the people he cared for, and it disgusted him to know he had underestimated Soul Society.
 
Kisuke sighed, not content with his answer and brush-off, but this was a subject Ichigo wasn’t willing to broach with the shopkeeper. Kisuke asked, “What will you do?”
 
“I’m thinking,” snapped Ichigo. He rubbed his temple, a migraine settling in behind his eyes like a railroad spike. He didn’t mean to snap, but he wasn’t in the best of moods.
 
He realized he didn’t sense Grimmjow anywhere close by, and he knew that wasn’t right. He warily extended his senses, like prodding a tender wound, and the added sensory information forced him to close his eyes just to process what he was feeling. It felt pathetic that he was reduced to the sensory state he’d been in as a teenager, but it made a good deal of sense.
 
Miles above Karakura, he felt the reiatsu of several captains, the visored, and his arrancar. Rage or no, he felt a swell of pride in Grimmjow for standing up to them without fear, for baring his teeth and fighting. He was worn out, and with Kenpachi as his opponent, he wasn’t surprised. The man always seemed to find a way to fight like with like. The mental gymnastics required to hold yourself back

that much

confused even Ichigo.
 
He came to a rapid decision, opened his eyes and stood, unsteadily hunting for his center of gravity. He took a step and staggered, confused as to how he could misjudge

the ground

. Kisuke caught him with a firm grip on his forearm, letting Ichigo get his bearings before he let go.
 
Watching Ichigo cautiously, Kisuke said, “I can’t help you if you don’t share what you’re thinking.”
 
Ichigo chuckled under his breath. “Am I that unpredictable?”
 
Kisuke admitted, “When you’re angry? Yes.”
 
The honesty was confusing when hearing it from Kisuke. He gave him a long look, mostly because he had to look longer just to see through the reishi. He needed to learn how to turn that off or he’d never eat again. “You’ve done plenty.”
 
“You can barely stand.” he pointed out.
 
“I adapt quickly.” answered Ichigo. He knew his own limits, and he usually trampled all over them. He would be fine, he wasn’t going to whine about some nausea and a headache, he had shit to do. People needed him, and the screaming in his head pitched louder, screaming for blood. He’d never had a God encourage his impulses before. For that instant, he thought he might have understood what had driven Adaliz to such madness.

“Ignore it.”

“Why would I want to do that?”
 
Kisuke gave him a look, and he realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Remember yourself. Calm, Ichigo.”

Did he want to be calm?  He caught himself on the wall, and let his fingertips brush against it as a guide as he made his way outside. He might have tried to walk through a wall without that reminder. As it stood, the physical world was harder to perceive than was comfortable.
 
Ichigo felt Inoue’s questioning gaze, Chad’s sturdy presence, but neither said anything. They gave him some distance, which he could only assume meant he was angry. People tended to give him some distance when he was angry.
 
Next to Soifon was a stranger, another member of the Onmitsukidō, judging from the attire. He didn’t care that his friends stood there to witness it, he wasn’t feeling very merciful. He drew his sword, turning the hilt in his grip in a fluid motion that was practiced skill, none of his clumsy perception of the world dulling his precision with his own sword. Without preamble or hesitation, he stabbed the shinigami through the heart. He heard Orihime’s startled yelp, a touch regretful she’d had to witness that, but hiding her from it would only be another form of lying.
 
He jerked his sword free without an ounce of remorse, sheathing it with brief notice of the shadowed relief on Yoruichi’s face. He noted she left, perhaps content he wasn’t intending to kill one of the few people she cared about.
 
These shinigami would have killed him just as quickly, hell, they almost had, and would have, even if his family had been there. No, he didn’t feel guilt killing a killer, nor did he feel any remorse over killing him while he was unconscious. He could have wasted his time and waited for him to come around first, but he would have been just as pathetically defenseless, and he might only waste more time by making sure he suffered for it.
 
He bent down, got a handful of Soifon’s kosode, then blurred into shunpo.

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
Never had Grimmjow fought someone who appeared to grow stronger the longer a fight dragged on and the more damage they took. On a good day, he would be enjoying himself, but this was just irritating. “Just stay down!”
 
Kenpachi laughed. “Why would I wanna do that?” He ripped a spike out of his shoulder, carelessly tossing it aside. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.” His injuries were slowing him down, but not much, he was built like a tank.
 
Grimmjow was sporting his own set of injuries, none having cut very deep into his Hierro, but it was enough to notice. He flexed his hand, tensing his claws, but was stopped short by the sudden anvil of reiatsu around them.
 
He’d never been so happy to feel it, his head snapping towards the center of the battlefield. It was turbulent and heavy, but it wasn’t directed at him or the visored, only the shinigami. Within it he felt a ghost of his emotions, singling out Kurosaki’s anger with ease. He was so preoccupied with his own fight, he’d missed the sudden change in his reiatsu.
 
The shinigami and visored around him turned towards Kurosaki in shock, their own battles halted by his presence. Kurosaki held a woman draped over his shoulder, a shinigami, even if her outfit was strange. He shifted her in his grip and tossed her, clearly not caring about the long drop if she wasn’t caught.
 
A white haired shinigami let out a strangled sound of surprise, then flickered into shunpo, catching her in his arms before she could fall any further. He blurred back into shunpo, standing what he deemed to be a safe distance away; directly behind the one with the girlie kimono.
 
Kurosaki’s voice carried, a steel behind it that left no room for negotiation. “You’re done, you’ve failed.

Go home.

”
 
Shunsui lowered his weapons, but didn’t make any effort to drop out of shikai. “And you’re generous enough to just

let

us go?”
 
Kurosaki tone betrayed his slipping control over his rage, the kind of rage that had torn Szayel to pieces. “Even

I’d

try to kill me, but your opportunity is lost, and I’m getting real fucking tired of you.” His tone turned icy. “

Go

.”
 
Zaraki turned away from Grimmjow, raising his sword to attack Kurosaki from behind. Despite Kurosaki having been on death’s door hours ago, he could tell from the set of his shoulders that no one here would be able to match him, even this worn out.
 
The Visored shot Zaraki a cold glare, the aggression not going unnoticed. Grimmjow blinked, and he was gone. Zaraki stood holding a broken sword, the other half in Kurosaki’s hand, standing only feet behind him. “

Weak

.” It sounded like a bitter insult, and Grimmjow realized for the first time he’d never heard Kurosaki talk to him like that. He told him he was weak, but never in disgust.
 
Kurosaki tossed the shard of steel aside, but it didn’t deter the shinigami. He threw a punch, one Kurosaki stopped with a firm grip on his wrist. Grimmjow heard the wet crunch of bone and a snarl from the shinigami. He wouldn’t be using that arm anytime soon. Kurosaki threw Zaraki aside and bellowed, “LEAVE! I won’t tell you again.”
 
Even with Kenpachi as worn down as he was, if that wasn’t a clear demonstration of the difference in their skill, Grimmjow didn’t know what was.
 
Shunsui made an exasperated sound, then dropped out of shikai, sheathing his sword in a firm, but pointed gesture. It didn’t look like this was a fight he particularly wanted, especially since he gave up so easily. He raised his hand, the rest of the captains abandoning their own battles to move to his side. Kenpachi looked more than a little annoyed, but his sword was as broken as his wrist; he was done.
 
Grimmjow moved when the shinigami did, crouching close to Kurosaki, albeit carefully in his peripheral. The visored followed suit, but none of them put away their weapons. Grimmjow wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to stand down either, not when he felt he was defending his territory. Kurosaki’s family and friends were here, and that meant it belonged to Kurosaki, it was that simple.
 
Without taking his eyes off of Shunsui, Kurosaki said, “Don’t forget that I tried.”

Tried

. The word made Grimmjow’s tail lash in agitation. He’d done more than

try

, what a fucking insult.
 
Shunsui had nothing to respond with. He turned his head towards the white haired kid beside him, but didn’t take his eyes from Kurosaki. “Open the Senkaimon.”
 
They left, tension thick between both groups, but Kurosaki acted as a storm; neither wanted to fight in it, and it was enough to keep the peace, no matter how tenuous.
 
It was only after the senkaimon was shut and gone that Grimmjow dared drop out of segunda etapa. He was dripping blood and still catching his breath, but at least he looked a damn slight better than the other guy.
 
Kurosaki gave Grimmjow a concerned once over, then turned to address the rest, the shadow of his anger still present in how clipped his tone was, and how tightly his clenched his fists. “I really didn’t expect to see you here.”
 
The short girl spoke up before Hirako could get a chance. “That’s what happens when your lazy ass takes a nap!”
 
Hirako fell out of hollowfication, ignoring Hiyori to ask, “How much of that was a bluff?”
 
Kurosaki held up his hand in a seesaw gesture. “Maybe about seventy percent.” Now that the shinigami were gone, Grimmjow could see the exhaustion he’d been hiding. He looked across at the visored, his discomfort with being protected clear in his scent and his posture. “You didn’t have to defend me.”
 
Hirako gave him an exaggerated eye roll, but clearly he was as uncomfortable with the gratitude as Kurosaki was with the assistance. “You’re one of us.”
 
Kurosaki rubbed his eyes, then gestured vaguely towards the shoten. “Let’s go back.” They seemed just as eager to move on from that moment, stepping into shunpo to return to the visored they had left behind. Kurosaki hung back, casting another scrutinizing look at Grimmjow.
 
Grimmjow sheathed his sword, and tried to discern that look. It was different than the uncomfortable stares he was used to receiving. Kurosaki had always shown him respect, he’d just been too blind to realize, but he realized this expression was different because it was unguarded, shameless. He looked at him with respect, gratitude, happiness, relief, and a hundred other things he couldn’t place or name.
 
Kurosaki stepped up to him, but he didn’t move, not even when he reached out for his face, running his thumb along a particularly nasty cut beneath his eye. His eye narrowed in pain, but, he didn’t move or flinch, watching as Kurosaki withdrew his hand, staring down at his blood with an odd look on his face. “You’ve bled quite a lot for me.”
 
Grimmjow snorted derisively. “It’s just pain, you’ve gone through worse.” His cheek tingled, and he realized he’d healed him. What an asshole.
 
Kurosaki smiled. “I wasn’t aware it was a competition.”
 
“If it was a competition, you won years ago, you prick.”
 
Kurosaki’s smile widened, amber eyes flicking back up to his. They were far sharper than he remembered them being in a long while. “Thank you.” This didn’t feel awkward, or as misplaced as his words to the visored. The gratitude was real for both, but there was an undercurrent of double meaning. They both knew Grimmjow would have fought alone and to the death to defend him, even if neither really understood why.
 
Turning away, Kurosaki blurred out of sight, moving too quickly for him to track. Around others, he tried to slow down, but lately, Grimmjow noticed he had begun to stop holding back.
 
He followed his King, and he was his King. He’d earned it ten times over.
 
He stepped down onto the ground outside the shoten, the princess doing her best to heal those who were worse off. Kurosaki was already speaking with Kisuke, and private conversation or not, he moved back to Kurosaki’s side. He noticed then that there was at least one person dead on the ground in front of the shop, a shinigami, but he wasn’t close enough to see who killed him.
 
He stood close enough to hear the tail end of what Kisuke was saying. “...and I can’t say for certain that Soul Society will stop trying.”
 
Grimmjow could only guess. “Stop tryin’ to kill you?”
 
Kisuke gave Kurosaki an assessing look, and gave him a half answer. “By such drastic means.”
 
“Drastic?” He didn’t see how sending the same squad of weaklings over and over was drastic.
 
Kurosaki gave him a hard look, one simmering with the same rage he’d felt only moments earlier. “Later.”
 
He had no reason to believe he wouldn’t honor that, so he didn’t push. Rather, it would be stupid to push. Instead he asked, “Can we leave?”
 
“Forgot about Neliel already?” he asked.
 
Grimmjow blinked. He had, almost completely. “Wasn’t she setting a tr-” He cut himself off, because it was a stupid question. “Wait, right now? Are you sure you can-”

“I’m very sure.”

Grimmjow shut up. The bloodlust rolling off Kurosaki was enough to even make

him

wary. His friends paled, drifting away from him. He knew they had nothing to fear, they were outside of Kurosaki’s notice, but the frigid twist in his reiatsu made them all very anxious to be somewhere else.
 
Kurosaki let out a deep breath, falling into hollowfication as easily as breathing. He might have thought with die Königin in his soul, it might have been different, more difficult, but that didn’t appear to be the case.
 
Kurosaki lifted his hands, drawing on la sangre. It lifted from the ground around him, pooling on the ground near his feet. His eyes were unfocused, seeing someplace across the goddamned planet. It hadn’t ever occured to grimmjow that distance wasn’t a factor to him, Kurosaki was always so up front and personal. Seeing him doing something miles and miles out of their range of notice was alarming.
 
Kurosaki clenched his hands into fists, baring his teeth in a silent snarl, then abruptly lowered his arms, letting out a harsh breath. Whatever he’d done hadn’t even taken long, something that didn’t appear to escape anyone’s notice.
 
He was barely out of hollowfication when Neliel stepped from a garganta, breathing hard. From the looks of her, she was still in a gigai, so it was no wonder she was tired, opening a garganta over such a distance wasn’t easy. An Espada made it look easy, but distance and precision took skill.
 
She braced herself on her knees, catching her breath, and Inoue ventured, “Kurosaki-kun...did you…” Grimmjow thought it might be his imagination, but she seemed wildly more wary of him than before, her eyes wide in panic. The reek of fear was strong enough that he took a few steps back.
 
Neliel shook her head, answering her unasked question. “He didn’t kill them, they’re good and trapped though.” Grimmjow thought she sounded relieved, or it could be she was just out of breath.
 
The princess’s shoulders fell in relief, and Kurosaki gave her a thoughtful look, not taking her lack of faith too personally. “I wouldn’t kill off the Quincy.”
 
A hoarse voice sounded from the shoten door. “So what

do

you intend?”
 
“Ishida-san! cried Inoue. “You shouldn’t be up!”
 
Grimmjow turned, seeing the Quincy leaning heavily on the doorframe. She rushed to his side, but he batted her hand away, intent on standing on his own, no matter how impossible that seemed. He looked like a wreck, but after all the trouble he’d put Kurosaki through, Grimmjow had half a mind to put the Quincy back on the ground.
 
Hirako made an agitated sound, uncomfortable with the mounting tension. “You seem to have this covered, I think we’ll be on our way…” No one stopped him, or any of the visored, and to be fair, Grimmjow was a bit jealous the visored could up and leave.
 
Ishida was sweating, his body rebelling at the mere notion of standing upright. As annoyed as Grimmjow was with him, he could respect stubbornness like that. Ishida demanded, “Answer me, Kurosaki.”
 
All it took was a lapse in his attention, and suddenly Kurosaki was inches away from Ishida. To the Quincy’s credit, he didn’t outwardly flinch, but fear flashed across his face.
 
Kurosaki ignored the question, reaching out and taking Ishida’s wrist. This garnered a reaction, fear, then despair flickering across his face almost too quickly to catch.
 
Kurosaki raised Ishida’s wrist against his protests, staring through him in a way Grimmjow had only seen him do when relying on Alteza. Kurosaki blinked, eyes refocused, and stared down at Ishida like a disappointed parent. “That was fucking stupid of you, you’re lucky you aren’t dead.”
 
Voice shaking, Ishida accused, “I know what you did, you had no right to interfere.” Grimmjow could only imagine he was talking about being the host for die Königin.
 
Grimmjow saw the muscles in Kurosaki’s back tighten in anger. “

No right…

” Letting Ishida’s wrist go, Kurosaki admitted, “Probably not, but Adaliz had to die, and I didn’t see anyone stepping up to take her place.”
 
Kurosaki didn’t give Ishida more time to argue, he turned away, his eyes snapping to Grimmjow. “Open a garganta.”
 
Kisuke said, “You still aren’t back to normal.”
 
Kurosaki chuckled. “Normal…” Grimmjow hesitated, but with another pointed glance from Kurosaki, he opened a garganta. Kurosaki’s eyes wandered, not necessarily looking for threats, but it was clear his was distracted. “It’s clear now that I can’t expect Soul Society to let the Living World remain neutral, staying here is only putting Karakura at risk.”
 
He paused like he’d forgotten something and turned to face Inoue. “Thank you for healing me.” Grimmjow had no doubt the gratitude was no less genuine than if he hadn’t nearly forgotten. Being nearly dead and having his soul twisted six ways to Sunday he was surprised he could even remember his own name.
 
She fidgeted, uncomfortable under the attention, and simply nodded. Something must have happened, because she could barely make eye contact with him.
 
Kurosaki turned to look back at Ishida, his tone not altogether friendly. “I’ll be back for you.”
 
Ishida growled, “What for? We’re not friends.”
 
If this bothered Kurosaki, he didn’t show it. His expression hardened and he clarified. “Not as a friend, as a Quincy.” Those words held meaning, especially after Kurosaki had taken Adaliz’s place.
 
Ishida paled more than he already was, but he clenched his jaw in silent resistance. Fucker was even more stubborn than he was. The princess looked ready to intervene, but thought better if it. At least she could see the Quincy’s pride was flattened enough as it was, she would only make it worse if she intervened, regardless of her intentions.
 
Kisuke reached into a pocket and called, “Kurosaki-san.” The visored looked, raising his hand to catch the phone he tossed him. “Keep in touch.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Urahara Kisuke
 
Kurosaki’s friends were ushered back into Ishida’s room, all unsettled, although the girl seemed the most upset. Unfortunate, but he couldn’t say he didn’t understand Kurosaki’s motive. He let out a near silent sigh, tapping a steady rhythm against his shoulder with his cane. Yoruichi had wondered if this was the right course of action, but it was far too late to second guess themselves now.
 
He stared down at the dead shinigami for some time, not in the least bit surprised when he felt Isshin closing the distance between them. With the shinigami good and gone, he’d feel confident enough to leave his daughters alone to come deal with the problem child.
 
He looked up when Isshin was within speaking distance, still lost in thought. Isshin demanded, “What did he do?”
 
“I think, ‘What did Soul Society do?’ Is the better question. It answers most of your questions for you.”
 
Isshin frowned, eyes flicking down to dead shinigami. It was obvious it was Kurosaki’s doing, there was no mistaking reiatsu like that. Isshin wasn’t a fool, no matter the ruse he pulled, he would be able to see this man was stabbed in the back. If there was stronger proof of how jaded and callous his son had become, he couldn’t think of any. He could have hid this from his friend, but it wouldn’t be a mercy.
 
Kisuke continued, “They left a reishi bomb. An inventive one. It absorbed the closest reiatsu to add to the maximum output. If they didn’t think they had enough power on their own to win without stealing your son’s, I wouldn’t have had the time to find it.” He let Isshin draw his own conclusions from that. “Needless to say, your son was very angry.”
 
Isshin himself was angry, like father like son, but he was expecting it. Isshin stepped in, brows drawn tight, and demanded, “And I can assume you stood there and played devil's advocate? Did you even try to talk him down?”
 
Kisuke carried on, ignoring the question. “I’d say we’re friends, wouldn’t you? I’ll be blunt, I don’t think you want to understand your son.” He saw the flash of anger in his eyes, and hastily continued before he got punched in the nose. “Your son was already strong when he killed Aizen, but then he became the host for a God. Now he’s the host for two. He’s a godling if I ever saw one. He’s weak now, but most things are, in their infancy. On occasion, your son values my opinion, but make no mistake, I can’t stop him, and neither could you. Kurosaki-san is brutal, but most concerning is that the Gods in his soul are not merciful.”
 
“What are you saying?”
 
“I’m merely expressing my concerns...there is a noticeable difference in his temperament, and I don’t think your son noticed. Some of it would be due to pain, but not all. Hollows are of instinct, and void, but Quincy are the fire of life, vengeance. Both of these extremes bring out the worst in your son.”
 
Isshin finally caught on, eyes narrowing. “You think he might be a threat.”
 
“It’s a possibility. We’re on his good side, Kurosaki does care about those in his circle, but what about those outside of it?” Kisuke glanced down at the dead man, and reached up to tug the brim of his hat down. “It’s in my nature to plan for the worst. This is a slippery slope, and he appeared to be struggling with it.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Free of a gigai, Nel trailed behind Ichigo and Grimmjow within the garganta, lost in thought, and stared either directly at Ichigo’s back, or nothing at all. Ichigo noticed, but unless Nel approached him, he would let it lie.
 
He raised a hand to rub at his eyes, a migraine pounding in his temple. It seemed die Konigin wasn’t fucking around when it said he was the eyes of the queen. He saw

everything.

Auras, power, life, light, in all its color, and it was still making him feel seasick, with an added bonus of a lovely spike through his brain.
 
‘

How long can this perceivably last?’

There was a long pause before Zangetsu responded with a hint of sarcasm coloring his tone. “

Forever

.”

“I know you will get used to it.”

‘Doesn’t help me now.’

Grimmjow interrupted his pity party. “What happened with the Quincy?”
 
“Ishida?” He looked at him, and from the expectant look on his face that was exactly who he meant. He continued, “He siphoned my energy and fed it to Adaliz.”
 
Grimmjow snapped, “What!? How?”
 
“It’s a long st-”
 
“

Wait

. Is he the reason I found you with less reiatsu than a fucking adjuchas-“
 
“That’s an exaggeration.”
 
Grimmjow plowed on ahead as if he’d said nothing. “-and more blood

outside

of you than in. That skinny asshole.” He paused then turned back, seemingly remembering the object of his rage was close at hand.
 
Ichigo got a handful of his jacket and said, “You didn’t let me finish.” Grimmjow paused, glaring over his shoulder, but didn’t try to shrug him off. Wise. “His body’s reiatsu flow was severely damaged by my own reiatsu. He might not ever have power again, and he knows it.” Ichigo paused so that would sink in. “That’s punishment enough.”
 
Grimmjow bared his teeth, eyes cast towards the entrance to the garganta. “And if I think it’s not?”
 
Kurosaki tightened his grip in warning. “Then I’m ordering you to let it go.”
 
Nel looked between the two, watching in tense silence. Like a dog abandoning a favorite toy, he watched Grimmjow physically struggle to turn away. It was flattering how riled up he was over it, but it was also an expected nuisance. He had expected Grimmjow to fight for him by that point, but knowing it and seeing him bloodied and beaten was a different matter entirely. Somehow he’d gained Grimmjow’s trust, his respect, and his loyalty, and he didn’t want to lose it.
 
Ichigo loosened his grip as a test, and when Grimmjow stayed in place, he let him go. He said, “We all do what we have to. I’m not happy about it, but I’m not his adversary anymore.” Grimmjow looked at him, sensing there was more to what he said. “I’m die Königin’s host now, and whether the Quincy like it or not, I hold power over them.”
 
Neliel asked, “Was that always part of the plan?”
 
“Yes. Even if I was born as an echt Quincy, they wouldn’t have listened to me, but as die Königin’s host, they can’t ignore me. The Quincy might not have land left to conquer, but I took their God, they’re as good as conquered.”
 
Grimmjow looked skeptical, likely recalling how unstable Hueco Mundo had been when he first conquered it. This would be even worse than that. Nel spoke with some measure of conviction. “They won’t see it that way.”
 
“Probably not, which is why I trapped them all in one place. Well...most of them.” He started back, Grimmjow close on his heels.
 
Nel asked, “What are you going to do with them?”
 
“Depends.” She looked expectant, so he continued, “For now? We all cool off, then talk.” She seemed to accept that answer, lapsing back into silence.
 
Personally, he was still angry. If he hadn’t finished Adaliz as quickly as he had, there was no doubt in his mind there would have been casualties. There was more than a little animosity between shinigami, hollows, and quincy. It was a primal sort of fear, one he could no longer understand.
 
He was use to seeing fear on his friend’s faces when they looked at him, but he couldn’t forget the look on Kisuke’s face. The last time he’d seen that look on his face, Kisuke had been looking at Aizen. For once, his inner spirits could say nothing to reassure him. It seemed that the more connections he made, the more he lost. He was isolating himself, only this time he was removed from the very things that had made him human.
 
He stepped into Hueco Mundo and paused, staring. Sight was easier in a world die Königin didn’t rule, it was almost normal. It was easier to ignore the bands of reishi in the air, it was sluggish, sleepy, dim, so unlike the writhing of energy in the living world. Come to think of it, there was less reishi in Living World than the other worlds, what he’d seen didn’t make sense. Maybe he hadn’t been looking at reishi at all?

“As with la sangre, it appears to be something else above the perception of others. Connected, but different.”

The screaming in his soul swelled, protesting the change of scenery, but he waved it off like an annoying bug. “Shut up.” He muttered.
 
He saw the look the pair gave him, he knew he was acting different, he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He just

looked

, getting used to the changes before he brought on another bought of sickness. On top of it all, he was tired, and it didn’t make for a good combination, he knew that.
 
He closed his eyes, distancing himself from das licht, and spread out his senses, more comfortable using la sangre, and much more efficient at it. He could sense all his arrancar, all of Hueco Mundo, the passive turbulence of it, and he loved it. He might be gemischt, but this felt like home.
 
“Ichigo?” Nel’s voice was soft, uncertain. That didn’t seem like her.
 
He let out a long, slow breath.

Calm

. He could do that. He opened his eyes, ready for the onslaught on his senses when he did. Eventually he would learn to block it out, but for now, he was going to take it slow. He looked over at her, then back up, seeing Alteza, while also not seeing. There was a wrongness to looking, he instinctively wanted to shy away, but another part of himself found solace in the madness. “It’s good to be back.”
 
Grimmjow spoke almost softly, an odd change of pace. “You were only gone a day.” The Espada kept a wary distance between them, and he idly wondered if that was his instincts warning him of die Königin. He always was a smart one.
 
A lazy smile stretched across his face. “A lot changed.” He had only been reacting, passively waiting for what would come next, and he’d been beaten, blamed, and used, regardless of his power. That wasn’t going to happen anymore. It was his turn. Despite the unsettling addition to his senses, his bondage to two monsters he couldn’t even perceive, he felt real freedom.
 
Ichigo laughed, a sound that couldn’t easily be associated with happiness. His mood was infectious, his inner spirits feeling a savage eagerness to move forward. He wasn’t going to stand still anymore.
 
“What’s wrong with you?”
 
Grimmjow sounded concerned, but to Ichigo, it didn’t feel warranted. Hours ago, he’d thought he might die, and now he was complete, that motherfucker was right;

he was whole

. His soul didn’t ache, he didn’t feel torn two ways, the ebb and pull in his soul felt more akin to having someone he trusted at his back, rather than dragging him down or smothering him.
 
He flexed his hands, taking another deep draw of reishi thick air, savoring the dry burn of the desert he loved. His smile didn’t feel quite right on his face, but he couldn’t hide it either. “I feel pretty damn good.”

--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading!

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx --- 
Grimmjow
 Kurosaki laughed, and self preservation seemed to dictate he step back. He’d heard all kinds of laughter from him, and it had never sounded happy . Then again, he wouldn’t go so far to describe that sound as happiness. It was an unburdened sound, the kind of laughter that accompanied madness. It worried him. Kurosaki spoke the same, he appeared to act the same, but something was different. His smile didn’t seem to fit his face, his eyes focusing on things he simply couldn’t see. Grimmjow chanced looking away, his eyes flicking towards Nel. “Get Harribel.” He knew she wouldn’t fare any better, but she needed to be updated so she could update everyone else. He sure as hell wasn’t going to do it. Nel left without hesitation, not usually one to follow orders, but it seemed they shared the same concerns about Kurosaki. He looked back at the visored, pleased he hadn’t just left , and watched him sit. He couldn’t sense him, sure, but this went beyond that, something about his presence unnerved him. Kurosaki noticed, fixing him with a knowing look. One that appeared to look straight through him. “You, of all people, have nothing to fear from me.” “You say that.” Yet his instincts kept him on edge. Kurosaki made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat and fell back on the sand, staring up like he was watching the goddamned clouds. He really didn’t want to know what he was looking at, all he saw was darkness. The visored said, “I mean it, I won’t kill you.” Grimmjow asked, “What are you doing?” “Adjusting.” He expanded on that after a moment. “Without the threat of destroying my soul by accident, Alteza stopped holding back. There’s just so much to feel. I can feel the pain in my head, the ache in my soul. I can hear the screaming, the whispers, feel the sand, the wind, the memory of souls lost to la sangre, the depth of the dunes as they twist away into something outside of time.” He held his hand up to the sky, curling his fingers into claws. “I can feel the scaping of claws on the world, like a persistent thought.” Grimmjow tracked Kurosaki’s line of sight and shivered. He still didn’t see anything. Kurosaki dropped his hand and kept going. “I can see all the colors of light, reishi, reiryoku, reiatsu, life. It’s beautiful in a disgustingly flawless way. I can see everything, even the things I don’t understand.” He repeated himself. “I’m adjusting…” His ramblings only worried him more. Clearly it all meant something to Kurosaki, but he wasn’t privy to it. “I don’t think people were meant for that.” That. Being the personal hand puppet of gods, seeing and feelings things people were never intended to. Kurosaki’s tone sounded almost wistful. “No, I don’t think they were.” Grimmjow wasn’t expecting Kurosaki to agree with him. He considered what to do, if there even was anything he could do, and settled on the next best thing. He demanded. “I want to talk to Zangetsu.” Grimmjow half expected Kurosaki to argue, but he only asked him to clarify. “Which one?” “Your hollow.” Kurosaki rolled his head to the side to look at him curiously. “The other one is confusing.” He accepted that answer, he knew because Kurosaki looked elsewhere, and Grimmjow found the hollow inches from his nose. He flinched back, noting immediately that the other was in a shitty mood. Not shocking, but he seemed more homicidal than usual. Zangetsu snarled, “What do you want?” “Answers.” He should think that would be a given. As intimidating as Zangetsu could be, Grimmjow didn’t back down, and despite the fury in the spirit’s eyes, he didn’t think he expected him to. “He told you what’s wrong, he’s adjusting. He could probably turn all this bullshit down to a five, but he’s leaving it at eleven because it’s faster .” Grimmjow’s answer was thick in condescension. “He’s scrambling his brains because he’s impatient ?” He lost track of Zangetsu’s movement, finding him much too close, his hand a hair’s breadth from closing around his throat. Grimmjow swallowed, rocking back on his heels, and looked from his hand, to his eyes, silently willing the hollow to stand down. If he got his hand around his throat, he really would kill him. With conviction. The hollow’s fingers twitched, eager for violence, and Grimmjow stopped breathing, not feeling foolish for feeling true fear. It looked like it took immense effort for the hollow to step back, his fingers curling into a tight fist. Zangetsu hissed, “ Very impatient .” Grimmjow’s eyes flicked to Kurosaki. He didn’t look angry, but if his inner spirit had this little control...He felt a chill ghost up his spine, and it didn’t leave. He could back up, but what good would that do? If Kurosaki wished to be somewhere else, he was simply there. Kurosaki was looking at him, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He tried to reassure him again. “I won’t kill you Grimmjow, neither can my hollow.” Can’t? He didn’t miss the turn of phrase, looking at Kurosaki in question, but his eyes were turned elsewhere. He didn’t seem outwardly perturbed by his hollow, so maybe he was right, maybe he was safe. His instincts didn’t think so. Zangetsu started to restlessly pace, growling, “You don’t know what’s it’s like.” That, he could agree on. “I don’t.” He demanded, “Tell me.” “To what purpose, koneko?” Zangetsu’s voice was dripping in condescension of his own. His goddamned hollow didn’t make this easy. Grimmjow’s anger chased away enough of his fear that his voice almost sounded even. “So I can understand.” Kurosaki’s hollow barely had rhyme or reason to his pacing, it was more of panicked, jittery movement for the sake of moving. “You were right when you said it.” Kurosaki glanced at his hollow in warning, then away, something close to shame in his eyes. That didn’t feel right. “King’s soul is fucked. I’m tired of King being a meat puppet for monsters. Violators .” Kurosaki sat up, eyes tracking his hollow with sharp acuity. Zangetsu didn’t stop, and Grimmjow was glad that he didn’t. “I wish these motherfuckers would SHUT UP. Words that drip like poison and cut like shame and King has learned to like it. This God howls for violence, and he won’t deny it, King is just waiting.” He cut off in his rambling and faced Grimmjow again, his eyes wide in manic glee. “Do you know what the shinigami did? Try to kill us,” he broke off into laughter, a reserved sound he didn’t often hear from him. He turned, half of his rant directed at Kurosaki. “Fine, try, try, try, they never did. Never managed it, did they? It tastes like betrayal, I hate them, King. I hate them so much. ” Grimmjow hadn’t ever considered Kurosaki might be this ruined, his hollow barely sounded sane at all. There was hate in his voice, black and twisted, but also despair. Kurosaki wouldn’t kill the shinigami, and it hurt him this much? Zangetsu was suddenly before him, shouting. “NO! They try to involve everyone else. Like that’s their right, not their right, they’re mine. If King must have others then you’re all mine, how dare they think they can kill what’s mine?!”  He only stopped because Kurosaki was no longer a bystander, he was before Grimmjow, his hand on Zangetsu's chest. “Shhhhhh. Don’t shout your grievances with me to someone else.” Zangetsu bristled, the look he fixed on Kurosaki unreadable. Grimmjow couldn’t help but remain fixated on what he’d said. He growled, “I don’t belong to you.” Staring at the back of his head, it was hard to see what he was feeling, but Kurosaki’s tone was sharp. “You kinda do, Grimmjow. It’s a compromise. Zangetsu doesn’t give a damn about anyone but me, but you’re mine, that means you’re safe.” He could argue he didn’t need his so called protection, but if he was being honest, he did. Zangetsu was too strong, and he was only a part of Kurosaki’s soul. Kurosaki pushed Zangetsu back a step, his question directed at Grimmjow. “Are you done with him?” Wasn’t that just the best fucking thing he’s ever said. Was he done? He grit his teeth and snarled, “If you would talk to me , I wouldn’t need to talk to him at all. Everything is a goddamn secret.” Zangetsu disappeared, wrenched back into Ichigo's soul, and Kurosaki spun. “Do you actually want to know?” Grimmjow knew Kurosaki often lost himself, but he didn’t know how often, he was good at hiding. So damn good, he often missed the little hints that he was unraveling. He understood now what Zangetsu meant when he asked him to watch him. Watching wasn’t enough, he had to do something. He’d shouted at him, tried to kill him, hurt him, talk to him, listened, and it wasn’t enough. Grimmjow intentionally did something that twisted his guts into knots. It went against his pride and his instincts, but he couldn’t think of another way to get his attention. He broke eye contact and cringed back in submission. He didn’t quite kneel, but he crouched, his palm brushing cool sand. Kurosaki noticed, he knew he would, and he froze, stopped short by the change in behavior. He hated how this felt, and he knew the uncomfortable wave of disgust that shook his frame wouldn’t go unnoticed. He glared at the sand and said, “After all your bullshit, is that all I deserve? You’re right Kurosaki, I have bled for you, and I’d do a hell of a lot more than that.”

Grimmjow tensed, Kurosaki’s hand tight on his chin, forcing him to look up. Kurosaki wasn’t hiding, he could see all his pain naked on his face. His tone was gentle and tinged in self loathing. “Get up, Grimmjow.” They both knew this wasn’t in Grimmjow’s nature, that he was making a point. Kurosaki understood what he was trying to tell him, he’d backtracked, he’d been pushing Grimmjow away and delegating him to being a bystander.

Straightening, Grimmjow watched Kurosaki cautiously. He was afraid of him, but not enough that he would listen to his instincts to flee. Kurosaki said he wouldn’t, couldn’t kill him, so he decided to trust him. Testing that fear, Kurosaki reached out for his neck, fingers brushing up along his throat, until his fingers were flush to the delicate flesh beneath his jaw. Grimmjow breathed faster, afraid, but did nothing, he merely watched Kurosaki with intense trust. Gently urging his hand higher, Kurosaki forced him to bare his throat. Grimmjow let him do as he pleased and still didn’t back away, no matter how much his heart raced. Kurosaki pulled his hand away, the look in his eyes betraying a pain Grimmjow had difficulty understanding. “Trusting fool.” His voice was soft, both rageful and sad and relieved and a whole handful of feelings he couldn’t name. What mattered was that he didn’t shut himself away. “You want to know?” The visored looked down at his palm, his tone thoughtful. “I think I can share it with you.” He took a step closer, and Grimmjow swallowed, wary of the proximity Kurosaki now stood. He couldn’t be certain, but it seemed those honey brown eyes burned, flaring like the dying light of sunset. Reaching out again, Kurosaki wrapped his hand around the back of his Grimmjow’s neck. He stiffened, by his very nature wanting to fight that hold. It wasn’t the first time the visored had done that, but it was the first time he’d been so gentle. Kurosaki warned, “Relax, it won’t be forever.” He didn’t understand what that meant, and he didn’t elaborate. Kurosaki tugged, pulling Grimmjow close, and pressed his forehead against his. He felt fever warm, from his hand to the near painful press of his head against his own. The Espada felt the terrifying void of la sangre around his feet and he tried to jerk away on reflex. Kurosaki’s grip was like steel, he couldn’t move at all, and from that realization sprang panic. He fisted a hand in Kurosaki’s kosode, desperate for some way to put distance between them, no matter how futile the effort may be. Kurosaki’s voice was soft, and colored with a confidence and resolve that reminded him of the reason he’d fought for him in the first place. “If you really want to know, you won’t fight me.” He did want to know, he wanted to know what was tearing Kurosaki apart, what was changing him so irrevocably. And so he fought to keep still, his instincts screaming at him to run. He didn’t have to battle himself for long, Kurosaki was efficient. He felt a cold spike of pain in his soul, so much deeper than anything he’d ever felt with la sangre. He gasped, buried beneath the sudden cacophony of sound. Hissing whispers, like snakes in the grass, twisting around his brain. Beneath that were screams, wails that didn’t feel quite right to hear, as if he were privy to a million broken confessions. Darkness, and rage and pain and the sheer wrongness of something inside him, coiled tight. No, that was wrong, there were two. Two of them and they could see him. He broke away and Kurosaki let him, throwing himself to his knees to dry heave. Kurosaki gave him space, letting him sort through what he’d just been feeling. He understood now what Zangetsu meant when he called them violators. Just having Kurosaki's hand around his throat for a moment was awful, but to feel what it was like to have his own soul taken away from him? He wasn’t sure he could handle that. That went on for some time before he could speak, shaking like a leaf. “Holy shit, Kurosaki. You can’t feel that all the time, how do you…you like that?” Kurosaki looked at him for a long moment, and he could see the self loathing on his face. He broke eye contact and said, “It’s not all madness, you just couldn’t see past it. This is better than before. Instead of destroying me, they lean on each other, their power is equal inside me. Before die Konigin, I felt like I was slowly being crushed, it wasn’t sustainable.” There was a hard edge to his tone, adamant. “This is nothing like that.” Grimmjow sat back, still catching his breath, and watched Kurosaki skeptically. “Is this really the best outcome? I can’t believe you can even function with all that racket in your head.” Kurosaki laughed, that same uncomfortably free laugh. “The screaming is new, but I’ve had a long time to get used to Alteza.” Grimmjow wasn’t so sure that was a good thing, and he wasn’t so sure it wasn’t the other way around. It seemed more like Alteza had gotten used to Ichigo. He wasn’t a pussy, but he never wanted to hear that shit again. He’d heard the whispers on occasion, and his opinion about it remained unchanged; he hated it. Kurosaki moved and sat cross legged across from him, saving his pride on account he didn’t think he could stand yet. He said, “It’s also the power. I’m strong enough on my own to face the Quincy, Soul Society, but not to fill the gap they would leave behind. Die Konigin and Alteza can help me fill that space, I'm not going to let them dictate my future anymore.” His voice twisted as he’d spoke, betraying the anger he’d been feeling. Grimmjow understood to some degree, but after feeling those monsters-He felt sick again, hacking and coughing through another wave of nausea. He breathed, and continued as if he hadn’t tried to throw his guts up. “I’m with you Kurosaki, I am. I’m not friends with the shinigami or the Quincy, but do more than adjust… ” Kurosaki narrowed his eyes, and he got a glimpse of the fury he’d seen in Zangetsu. He didn’t cower at that look, he refused to and it wasn’t why Kurosaki kept him around anyway. “I know you, the second you can walk in a straight line you’ll do something stupid. You’re not all you . If you give a fuck about my opinion, you’ll stay here until you’re not homicidal. You said it yourself, you make mistakes when you’re angry, and this is beyond angry.” Kurosaki looked at him, but didn’t try to kill him or dismiss him, which was more than he’d hoped for. The visored blinked, looking away, and some of the tension in Grimmjow’s spine fled. Kurosaki said, “I’m not me?” He sounded quizzical, confused even. From the outside looking in, it was easier to notice, but to Kurosaki, he could imagine he didn’t notice the change. Grimmjow didn’t want to call him unhinged, that seemed a little harsh, but he couldn’t think of a better way to describe him. “You’ve never been one to tell anyone what the fuck is going on, but you seem...unpredictable.” Kurosaki hummed thoughtfully. “I scare you.” He spoke it as a fact, not a question, and Grimmjow had done more than enough to prove it in the past hour. “Fuck yes, I’d be a goddamned idiot if you didn’t, but do you see me running away with my tail between my legs?” The visored couldn’t bite back an amused snort. “No. I can always count on you to be honest.” He looked up again, eyes focused on something he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever see. “I don’t want to listen, but that makes me think you have a point.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I’ll stay. For awhile.” Grimmjow hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to hear that until he did. He let out a ragged breath, running his hand over his face. He sounded breathless, but it was too late to school his tone. “Goddamn it, kid...you make me feel old.” He shot him a sharp look. “Don’t repeat that.” Kurosaki rolled his eyes and laid back to watch the sky. “I’m not a kid.” He wasn’t. He might be younger, but he wasn’t naive, and he wasn’t a fool. He couldn’t easily call him a victim either. He was what he was. He was Ichigo, plan and simple. Time passed and eventually Neliel and Harribel showed up. He’d been half asleep when the pair showed back up, jerking awake with a hiss of breath. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled. Harribel looked over them both, noting that Kurosaki appeared to be cloud watching. She said, “If you can doze off, this must not be as urgent as Neliel led me to believe.” Grimmjow looked at her, brows drawn tight. “Just because he doesn’t want to kill me doesn’t mean he’s stable.” He stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders out, watching as Kurosaki’s focus readjusted on Harribel. He might be adjusting to whatever new bullshit was imposed on him, but the look in his eyes still cut just as deep, his mind was still sharp. Harribel took a small step back, her instincts warning her of something she couldn’t see or sense. She tilted her head, nervous, but introspective. “I see…” Kurosaki said, “I’m not surprised die Konigin’s presence inside me makes you nervous. It is, after all, the antithesis of everything that makes you a hollow.” Neliel looked between them and asked, “So...if die Konigin is the antithesis of Alteza, how can you be host to both ?” “They’re like oil and water. They don’t mix, they can’t, and instead of trying and struggling to use my own power to hold back Alteza, die Konigin picked up the slack just by showing up. It’s...easier.” Grimmjow snorted at the euphemism, picking it apart easily enough. “You mean it was killing you and now it’s not.” Kurosaki chuckled, tone incredulous. “Oh no, I think it’s still killing me, but at a much, much slower pace.” Harribel let out a slow breath, chewing on that information, and said, “Tell me what happened.” No doubt Neliel had given her a brief explanation on the way over, but what she knew was limited to a second hand account. Grimmjow started, because Ichigo had been unconscious for most of it, and Kurosaki filled in the blanks as he went. It didn’t take very long to catch her up to speed, which seemed surreal, even unfair, when the consequences of those events had changed everything. Grimmjow ended with a suggestion. “Don’t let him talk to anyone.” He glanced at Kurosaki. “You’ve always been a scary motherfucker-“ Kurosaki’s eyes narrowed at his choice in insult. “But this is different.” Harribel’s arms had been folded for the past few minutes, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She surprised him. “I agree. I’ll address the others, sort yourself out. I believe we should keep your ties with die Konigin to ourselves for as long as possible.” Grimmjow didn’t have a problem with that, and neither did Nel, and despite how little Kurosaki seemed to be listening, he knew he was when the visored answered, “I’ll see what I can do.” Grimmjow asserted. “Do more than try.” Neliel offered, “You feel a lot like a Quincy right now. Sort of.” “You heard her,” Grimmjow said. “Like they need another reason to be scared.” “I get it,” growled Kurosaki. “I’ll try ,” he gave Grimmjow a pointed look, “to be less Quincy-ish.” No one had anything to add to that, so Kurosaki continued. “Be wary. I wouldn’t put it past Soul Society to try something underhanded again.” He sounded calm, but there was an undercurrent of rage in his voice, a sweet promise of violence, and everyone present noticed. “I don’t think they have the balls to blatantly go after a human, but they know those I keep close, they might go after any one of you. Don’t take this the wrong way, but the instant you step outside Hueco Mundo, I can’t help you. Not yet, not until I understand the power I have.” Grimmjow could argue how he could take care of himself, but against someone who might as well be a God, it felt like a waste of time. He asked, “They never did this shit before, what changed?” Ichigo said, “They wised up. They see me as a threat to the worlds, they can’t afford to sit on their ass.” He thought the visored almost sounded eager. After the shit they pulled, he didn’t blame the visored, he was right there with him. “Are you?” Harribel asked. Kurosaki smirked, his mouth twisting into a mockery of an actual smile. That was answer enough, and Grimmjow was silently grateful he was on their side. Well, he was on the side of the humans, but Hueco Mundo was a swift second. In the spirit of whatever homicidal thoughts Kurosaki was nurturing, he carried on as if she hadn’t asked her question at all. “They wouldn’t dare try to come here, but that won’t stop them from going everywhere else. I’ll take your advice, I won’t leave until I adjust, but some of you will have to leave to deal with the Quincy. They’re trapped, they’re not going anywhere without help, and like I said, once you leave Hueco Mundo, you’ll be vulnerable.” Nel stepped forward and finally spoke up. “Can I be one of the ones to go?” Kurosaki looked to Harribel. “I’ll leave that up to you.” At least he’d stopped being so overbearing, and he had to admit, knowing he had the wrath of a God to back him up should he need it felt pretty good. He hadn’t done the lone wolf thing in years and years anyway. Harribel sighed, looking a little worse for wear herself. “Get some rest, Ichigo, I can’t imagine you don’t need it.” Her eyes flicked towards Grimmjow. “If you don’t think he’ll kill you, stay with him.” With that, she left, and he had no doubt she intended to gather the Espada. Between returning from aiding Soul Society and now, no one in command had told any of the Espada anything, and after a day, he imagined they weren’t too thrilled about being left in the dark. None of them liked shinigami, and none of them liked being in the dark. After a quick look to Grimmjow and Ichigo for what seemed less like permission and more like an assessment, Neliel left too, leaving the pair alone again. Grimmjow said, “You heard her, stop being a creepy fucker and sleep.” Kurosaki shot him a frown, either at the suggestion or the insult, he couldn’t tell, but the visored couldn’t argue with them, he was always in dire need of sleep. Sleep that wasn’t induced by something extreme and/or deadly. Rather than pick up and go back to Las Noches, Kurosaki simply laid back. For a moment he wondered why he felt safer in an open expanse of sand, then realized that was a stupid thing to wonder about. Kurosaki had said it before, but it handled bared repeating; Hueco Mundo belonged to him. The sky, the sand, and everything in between. It was no wonder it made him feel safe. If he willed it, this desert could become a tomb in seconds, and he wouldn’t even know what hit him. As it was, he trusted him...within reason, so he felt confident enough to relax around him. He got comfortable, more exhausted than he’d let on. Jumping from one battle to another with nothing but helplessness and stress to ease the transition was a goddamned joy . He saw Kurosaki staring at the sky again and he roughly nudged him with a foot. “ Sleep , you asshole,” he complained. Kurosaki shot him a halfhearted glare, then curled on his side, his shoulder hiding his face enough that Grimmjow wouldn’t know if he was asleep or not. Whatever, he’d tried.

--- xxx --- 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 He agreed to stay behind not because he wanted to, or because he even thought he had the restraint to, but because he trusted Grimmjow’s judgement. He understood what his fraccion was on about when he called into question what he was doing. He’d chosen Grimmjow for his stubborn nature, his loud mouth, and his advice. Sometimes his advice came in the form of violence, and other times crass words, but he never valued it any less. That Grimmjow was pulling him back from a fight made him think. He might have disregarded his opinion if he hadn’t been so drastically out of character. Grimmjow knew how to get his attention, he knew him. Maybe once that would have annoyed him, maybe even made him anxious, but now it was...nice? He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling, but he didn’t think it was unpleasant. He’d gotten some sleep, with Grimmjow hovering over him the entire time he would have felt guilty if he hadn't. He could see how exhausted Grimmjow was, his aura was off. He’d never been able to see it before, but he somehow knew it was off. Grimmjow had gone out of his way for him. Again. Once he’d woken up, he’d reassured Grimmjow he was staying in Hueco Mundo, and told him to go back to Las Noches. The Espada still looked exhausted, not that he would ever complain. He stepped through la sangre before he could argue, and now he stood alone, several miles above the sand. He wasn’t sure how far up he was, but all around him was crushing darkness, darkness he could see straight through now. He reached out, his hand passing through the edge of the world. It didn’t feel like anything, but something reached back.  “King, why do you have to go and touch it?”   Both Zangetsu and Ossan weren’t happy with his newfound satisfaction. He whispered aloud. “Curiosity.” His voice had nothing to bounce off of, and fell flat in a silence so profound, he felt it was a matter of cause to be quiet. As if the sky were a cathedral miles high, a monument to something outside perception, but no one could deny existed. Something here demanded respect. He withdrew his hand from the place beyond reality, and Alteza gave nothing but sleepy notice from within his own soul. Whatever he had dipped his fingers into moved at a pace so slow and infinite, he don’t think it even noticed him.  “King this is the thing you run from, it isn’t a goddamned petting zoo. Leave .”  
‘Aren’t you even a little curious?’
 
“Not even a little bit.”
 Not surprising, but that no one else could feel this only made him feel even more alone. ‘Do you think I would be able to see die Konigin in living world?’  
“Did you look up when you were there?”
 He actually had to think about that. He’d been so angry, everything out of his immediate focus was a blur. ‘No...and it was overcast. Does that matter?’  
“Why the fuck would I know?”
 He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, Zangetsu wasn’t happy, and he wouldn’t be for awhile. That translated into being belligerent and unhelpful. More so than usual. He turned away from the void above him and looked down at the sand. At his world, and it was his. He could feel everything. Compared to before, he’d been blind, blissfully ignorant. He could feel every soul in Hueco Mundo, every garganta, every death; it churned under his consciousness with a chaos and rhythm, like a living thing. He just had to focus. He let out a breath and stepped forward, moving through la sangre to step out onto the dunes. He reached out with la sangre to the edges of the world, to the fringes Adaliz had pressured. He gripped the world and stretched his power, shoving off the coils she had tightened around Hueco Mundo. He expanded his world, and it felt good . Like regaining the feeling to a lost limb, the space felt owed to him, comfortable. He thought he could understand Adaliz’s casual interference with Hueco Mundo. Now that he’d regained what was lost, he wanted more. More. .. It was a hunger that didn’t belong to him. A gluttony only known to decay and fire, it was born from both the dark and the light inside him. It was a nauseating feeling, an intriguing one, and one he inspected like he might a fleeting desire to jump from a high place. 
“Tread carefully, Ichigo. These urges are not your own.”
 He looked down at his hand, still decidedly human, and clenched his hand into a tight fist. “I know, Ossan.”  “One day,” Ossan warned, “they may not be so distinguishable from your own desires.” Ichigo shivered. Ossan wasn’t wrong. He’d seen Adaliz, not all of her vengeance was her own, it was driven by a need that surpassed the capacity of her heart. He’d thought it was difficult to reign in his instincts, but this was a whole new monster to tame. That was an impossible feat though, wasn’t it? He couldn’t tame darkness, or light. He might not be dying any longer, but he was caught between a storm and the sea nonetheless. Eventually, his soul wouldn’t be able to take it. The idea of being slow eroded away didn’t sit well with him, so he tried to think of something else. Zangetsu sensed his disquiet and helped the only way he knew how. “ Can you at least shoot arrows from fucking nowhere?”  He hadn’t thought about the practical side yet, but it was a decent question. “I don’t know.”  “Well...are you fucking busy ?”  Ichigo bit back a sigh and looked around at his surroundings. What did he have to lose? He’d practiced with la sangre out of necessity, and now it seemed the same could be said for das licht. Practicing in a place that only knew night would be difficult, but it would make him stronger faster, and he could always use the edge. Instinct told him he was near the top of the food chain, but experience told him to be wary, to prepare. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he’d rather be alive and ready than a dead fool. --- xxx --- 
2 days later
 He waited for Harribel in the hall he’d first found her in. He made Harribel go through a lot of waiting on him, it was about time he waited for her. He was back in his hollow form, “detoxing”, as Zangetsu put it. The urges he felt were carnal, physical, and the only way he could think of to curb die Konigin’s influence was to hollowfy. It worked, mostly, but it replaced those desires with all different ones. At least he was familiar with Alteza, he knew how to ignore those feelings. He sensed Harribel not far down the hall, and he stood to meet her. She didn’t hesitate or pause or fear him, he liked that about her. She took one look at the room and said, “I’m surprised it’s still standing, even if it looks a bit different.” Ichigo raised his brows. “I’m surprised you recognized it.” Humor sparkled in her eyes, pausing only when she was within arms reach. “Did you really think meeting you could be so forgettable? Of course I remember, Ichigo.” There was a chiding edge to the way she spoke his name, he couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t spoken it that way. She always had a way of making him feel as young as he was. She cast her eyes around the room, settling on the empty space where she had once stood, all those months past,  and looked back. “Why here?” He answered, “Just thinking.” She didn’t move or speak, so he took that as a sign that she knew he wasn’t telling her everything. He elaborated. “I was just thinking about the way things could have gone, the way they once did. I asked you to put a lot of faith in me with nothing but my word. I’m glad we didn’t have to fight, not really.” Her eyes flicked back to an unmarked place in the room, giving a slight shake of her head. “You went easy on me, you let me hit you, you let me believe you aren’t as powerful as you are.” Ichigo grimaced. “I did.” He lied about that a lot. It was a delicate act not to trample on someone’s pride, he knew he wouldn’t have liked it. He liked to think he was decent at judging how much of his strength to hold back, but it was the fact that he had. “You have exceptional restraint.” She said it bitterly, but he was used to receiving sour compliments. Kurosaki wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but he had the sinking feeling he’d missed something important. She, like him, didn’t dance around the point. She said, “You have yet to question me about my Segunda Etapa. I know you know about it.” Oh...he should have known. He began slowly. “You trained in solitude, I didn’t want to impose.” She surprised him then, her attention drawn elsewhere, voice low. “Maybe I hoped you would.” He shot her a concerned look, and after a moment, he stepped into her line of sight. She didn’t hide from him, she stared right back, eyes the color of a sea no longer placid; they were tumultuous and dark. He chose his words carefully, aware that what he said or didn’t say now wouldn’t be so easily forgotten. “Tier...I know I’ve never said it in so many words, but I understand.” “Do you?” There was a hardened edge to her tone that he couldn’t blame her for. Reaching out for her, she was still as his fingers brushed the mask fragments along her jaw. All it took was one touch, and her heart was laid bare to him, her feelings cutting as deep as if they were his own. It hurt , it always did, but it hurt even more to know that he had overlooked something so important. Her eyes flicked toward his hand, then back to his face, trying to read his expression. He didn’t bother hiding his reaction, that wasn’t fair, not when her heart was an open book to him. When he first met her, she had hidden her mask, her heart. Out of shame or regret or otherwise, he didn’t know. That was no longer the case. The day she’d gained her segunda etapa, she had stopped hiding, in fact, he thought he felt a stubborn sort of pride. He’d known the moment it happened, but it was a subject he hadn’t known how to broach, and neither had she. He withdrew his hand, sighing softly. His regret was plain on his face and in his voice. “I’m sorry. I could make any number of excuses, but it wouldn’t change anything. I should have known.” Harribel looked torn, her frustration evident in her tone. “Ichigo…” He continued softly. “You wouldn’t dare let your fraccion know, let alone any other arrancar. You wouldn’t burden them with it, you wouldn’t let that kind of weakness show, even if it’s tempting. I’m sure it’s a source of contention that I can sense your heart at all.” He saw the pain of that truth echoed in her eyes. He didn’t think she would ever let him see her cry, but he felt the stab of pain as clearly as if it was his own. “In that regard, we’re very similar.” Stepping even closer, Ichigo said, “You’ve been there when I needed it, and I wasn’t there for you.” He didn’t know how to span this distance between them, he was never very good at this. She stared at him a long moment, then asked, “What was it like for you?” “It was a bit different for me. I hurt too much, I couldn’t take it…” He felt her pain, he knew she remembered, but he wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk about it. “Who did you lose?” Her posture shifted, her emotions very nearly foreign to him. Her tone held a pained, but wistful edge. “My child.” Tears shone in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “It’s long since passed, but it hurts no less.” He said nothing, there wasn’t much that he could say even if he wanted to. This pain was for Harribel, it made her more, even if the price was high. The price of being human. She asked, “Did you lose someone?” The question caught Ichigo off guard, he wasn’t prepared for it, or the sharp stab of pain as he dredged up the memory. “Yes.” His voice was strained, but they were alive, he had them again. Maybe not the people he remembered, but they were his all the same. “My family.” The doubt in her eyes vanished, and she saw that he did understand. He said, “You’re right, it still hurts.” He wasn’t sure if he could fix something like this. He was never a touchy person, and the wall between him and Harribel was only one she ever crossed over to him. This was the closest they’d come to meeting halfway. She reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, her fingers tracing the tendons in a featherlight touch. She sighed through her nose. “You’re torn too many ways, Ichigo, you need not apologize. Although it would be a lie to say I don’t appreciate this.” She dropped his hand and sat, surprising Ichigo again. “The world can wait for a time longer.” He didn’t disagree. He’d come here to talk strategy, but this was far more pleasant. He sat next to her and she shifted so her back was to his, leaning back so her head rested between his shoulder blades. He was surprised she could so easily put her back to him, but then again, as Grimmjow put it, what good would being on her guard do? He sat there with her for a long time, her presence so much different than Grimmjow’s. He was as unstable as a wildfire, and she was steady, even when she was stretched thin. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before she spoke again. “This will sound trite, but everything is about to change, isn’t it?” He could lie to himself and say that he didn’t know, but he was fulcrum in this machine, he knew if anything changed, he’d be at the center of it. “Yes.” She didn’t ask if it would be for the better, or for the worse, and he realized that she trusted him enough not to ask. She said, “You seem…” She fished for the word, “better.” Given she hadn’t been on her guard since she showed up, he’s assumed as much, and he knew why. “I’m not using das licht.” She gave a thoughtful hum. “Both das licht and la sangre should be of the same strength, should they not? Why is das licht affecting you so much?” The answer was painfully simple, and it was a problem of his own making. “I’m not used to it. For years I’ve leaned on my hollow side, the shinigami inside me. I know what it feels like to be driven by instinct. What’s new to me is to be driven by emotion. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had to deal with controlling them. On the other hand, for the time that Alteza had been using me as its host, it was limiting its power. If it hadn’t, it would have crushed my soul. Now that it can lean on die Konigin, I have to adjust to the full weight of both. It’s disorienting, but Alteza is familiar by now, and die Konigin is not.” She asked, “Then is it necessary to use das licht?” “I think it is.” 
“Liar, you want it. You like it as much as any power.”
  ‘I didn’t lie.’ He was incredulous. ‘Would you prefer I not use it?’  
“Didn’t say that, but you have enough power and then some if you didn’t.”
 
“Ichigo is not immune from the effects of Alteza. Leaning so heavily on its power now may lead to entirely new problems in the future.”
 They both had a good point, and he didn’t ignore either of them. “It’s going to be hard enough to earn the respect of the Quincy. They’re all about purity, and I’m a mutt, through and through.” She turned the topic back towards business, it was inevitable they get to that point anyway. “Then why should we expect the Quincy to listen to us? You say they’ve captured some number of arrancar and convinced them to fight on their side, but with methods even a hollow would detest.” He felt a flicker of rage at the mention of their press-ganged soldiers. Fodder, that’s all they were. He didn’t need to hear a report to know they had been used as such when the Quincy invaded Soul Society. No casualties from the Quincy or the Espada, but the arrancar caught in between? He knew Grimmjow had carefully omitted that information, for reasons he didn’t care to guess at. He remembered Harribel had asked him a question, uncurling his hand from the fist he’d squeezed it into once he began to bleed. “They probably won’t, which is why I don’t intend to let them out until we come to an agreement. I have no doubt Adaliz left a Quincy in charge in her absence.” “What is it we want from them?” From her tone, it sounded as if she knew, but was waiting for confirmation. He answered, “Peace, or something close to it. Peace with us and Soul Society. I don’t want the Quincy dead, but I’m not opposed to violent persuasion. I don’t need their aid, I only want them out of the way.” She said, “They won’t want to hear that. Should we attempt to persuade them?” “We’re holding all the cards, why bother? They’re as good as hostages, and they’re all alive, they rely on das licht in a tangible sense. They’ll be feeling the absence of it.” “Feeling it?” She questioned. She leaned forward, her sudden absence at his back leaving a sudden chill in her wake. It was a subtle discomfort, but a reminder nonetheless that he could feel pain again. He wasn’t sure he liked feeling it, it was just one more problem in a long list to adjust to. Ichigo chuckled darkly, then leaned forward and twisted to see her. “ Oh yes. Adaliz spoiled her children, she gave them more life than they could ever need, power, and then some. I’ve taken that away. If they want it back, they’ll do as I say.” Harribel’s voice was searching, uncertain. “You can do that from such a distance?” It sounded like she hadn’t thought he could. Even in his hollow form, Ichigo could feel the influence of das licht, but he didn’t push it away. “Yes. Their souls burn like stars, I can see them easily, especially when they’re so few. It was easy to revoke that power. Easy ,” he drawled. “Like snuffing a match.” He didn’t realize his attention had drifted elsewhere until Harribel spoke again. “Could you take an Espada’s power?” There was a cautious edge in her voice. “Potentially, but it would be easier to affect your evolution or simply kill you. Neither of which I want.” He got up, suddenly restless, and Harribel joined him on her feet, giving him a bit of space. “Besides, for a hollow, I’m not giving you power, I’m changing it, it’s a different process. That requires me to be in direct contact, anything delicate does. All I did was shut a door in their face.” He went on, a growl in his voice. “I wanted them to know she was dead, to feel it. I will come for them, and they will answer for what they’ve done.” It was a slippery slope, to feed the fury he consciously kept at bay. Harribel watched him steadily, and he turned to her. “Until then, show them what the queen of Las Noches is made of.” His tone shifted, incredulous. “You don’t need me at your back to do it.” She smiled, he could see it in her eyes. “That I do not.” Her own voice gained a steely edge, every bit the powerful arrancar he knew she was. “I’ll have their respect, or I’ll take their lives.” She shared his rage, he knew she did. Hueco Mundo was something of a safe haven for centuries, but recently, they had been treated as captives, their dunes had become a hunting ground for outsiders. Anger was too gentle a word.“I wouldn’t ask for anything less, Tier.” He may be half Quincy, but he held his responsibilities to Hueco Mundo as a close second to his family. He didn’t loathe the Quincy, but by sharing their blood, what they had done, what they had attempted to do, it cut so much deeper. It was better Harribel talk to them first. She was a hollow, through and through, her motivations wouldn’t be in question, she held Hueco Mundo first and foremost as priority, and there could be no doubting it.

--- xxx ---  Thanks for reading!

Current Espada Ranking
King StrawberryFraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel 0 - Harribel1 - Ulquiorra2 - Starrk & Lilynette3 - Grimmjow4 - Zommari5 - Szayelaporro Granz6 - Shawlong7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)8 - Yylfordt Granz9 - Edrad Liones10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Bring me your soul

Bring me your hate

In my name you will create

Bring me your fear

Bring me your pain

You will destroy in my name.”

- Dark Matter, Les Friction

--- xxx --- 
Kurosaki Ichigo
  
Standing high above Karakura, Ichigo watched. The wind teased the ends of his hair around him in, tugging it over his shoulder and obscuring his view. He pushed it back, eyes scanning the streets expectantly. From this height, he couldn’t see them in any detail, but he could

feel

them. The distinct hum of family, a presence so familiar, it could be no one but his sisters.
 
Karin was at soccer practice and Yuzu was inside someplace out of sight. He watched, too afraid to move any closer, and nervous they weren’t real.
 
He said he wouldn’t leave Hueco Mundo, yet here he was. He hadn’t necessarily promised...He still felt like a liar.
 
It was all too easy to move now, it wasn’t even necessary to step into la sangre anymore. He could build it around himself, it was faster, and it only took a thought.
 
He felt relatively normal, and despite whatever was going on, he didn’t feel he had to worry about harming anyone he didn’t intend to harm, not unless he fell asleep.
 
He’d let only a small bit of his reiatsu leak through on a whim. His sisters wouldn’t notice, but Kisuke would, his father, the visored, Chad, and maybe Orihime and Ishida. It wasn’t his intention to reach out to most of those people, not right then. There was one person he wanted to speak to.
 
He wasn’t disappointed, Isshin showed up more quickly than he expected. He looked back, his father staring at him with a good deal of shock. He made a softly disapproving sound, directed at himself. “I forgot, you haven’t seen this form before.” Isshin only stared. “Sorry. It’s necessary.”
 
His father found his voice. “You look...remarkably like a hollow.”
 
Ichigo resisted the urge to shrug, he didn’t think he father would take to his apathetic attitude. “I hear it was easier to get used to when it was just a mask.” He lifted his hand to his heart, his hand hovering just a hair's breadth away from the void in his chest. The neck of his kosode extended low enough to see the top curve of the hole in his chest, but more often than not, his friends had seen him in this form when when he’d been in the process of getting the fight beaten out of him. “Apparently, it’s jarring to see through someone.“
 
Isshin didn’t look too pleased to see it, but he bit back comment. “Not that it isn’t good to see you, but what are you doing here?”
 
“I wanted to be sure they were here, and I wanted to talk to you.” The first half of his answer sounded somewhat pathetic. After his talk with Harribel, he needed to be certain, and there they were, going about their lives just as he’d hoped they would be.
 
Alive, not dead.

Alive

. Soul Society had been prepared to kill. To kill his family, his friends, humans. Not his family, they couldn't die, No, no, nonononono. Even in his hollow form, it was still daylight, and die Konigin was

loud

. He grimaced, looking away, and he didn’t realize how distracted he’d been until Isshin tried to touch him. He moved faster than his father could track, winding up behind his father. He warned shortly. “Don’t do that.”
 
“Ichigo?” Isshin had looked a bit accusatory before, but now he saw real concern on his face.
 
He looked back down at Karakura, going to great lengths to be sure his voice was even. “It’s loud, I probably shouldn’t even be here. But I needed to

see

them.” His voice lost some of his steadiness, speaking just loud enough that he might hear him over the wind. “Do you understand?”
 
“More than you know, Ichigo.”
 
His father’s voice sounded tired, more empathetic than he recalled ever hearing before.
 
That was true, wasn’t it? After he lost their mother, how many sleepless nights had he had? How many times had he gotten up in the night to check on them? He played at an overprotective fool, because it was the truth. He’d never been a very present father, but they all knew he would be there for them.
 
He wasn't so different from his father. In his quest to protect his family, he’d distanced himself.
 
Isshin asked, “Why come here looking like that if you wanted to see them?” They both knew he wouldn’t dare let his sisters see this side of him, not willingly.

His answer was direct. “Because I had to. I’m not sure if you know, but when I’m like this, I can barely feel pain, my emotions are more distant, abstract. I got used to it.” His father gave him a deeply disapproving look, and Ichigo looked away. “I’ve used it as a crutch, I know. It was easier to give in to bloodlust than to

feel

.”
 
Ichigo let out a slow breath. “It hurt so much...but it’s too late now, the damage is done.”
 
Isshin watched him, brows furrowed in concern, and said, “I’m still not sure I understand how it all relates.”
 
“Alteza buries my heart beneath a mountain of instinct, so imagine what die Konigin does. It amplifies

everything

. I’m angry; I feel hurt, used, stupid, and I want them to pay,

pay it back with blood.

”
 
He caught himself snarling and stopped those thoughts in their tracks. He deliberately slowed his breathing and continued. “Being in this form holds it all back, but it’s still daylight, it’s still the living world, and die Konigin is strong. It still bleeds through and leans on me. It isn’t a lot of pressure, but it’s persistent, and I can’t push it back. It feels like the whole sky is trying to smother me.”
 
It wasn’t often that his father sounded truly concerned. “Ichigo...are you okay?”
 Ichigo’s shoulders shook with a low, deep laugh. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the irony, or the absurdity of it. He drawled, “That’s the catch. I know it’s wrong, everyone keeps telling me that, but it feels good.” 
Isshin watched him carefully, and for once Ichigo could see the conflict play out in his expression. His father wasn’t sure if he should treat him as his son, or a threat, he could see it on his face.
 
Family won, in the end. This time. Ichigo was grateful for that, but it made him wonder if he was as bad as it seemed.
 
Isshin asked, “So what do you intend to do?”
 
“Destroy the Soul King. I’m done reacting to them, sitting on my hands, waiting for them to figure out how to kill me.” He felt betrayal leak into his voice, and he couldn’t stop it.
 
Isshin stepped closer, but he didn’t try to touch him again. “Son, what did they do?” Of course his father could tell there was more. This was years in the making, and this was the final straw.
 
“What do you think? They dragged me into their war, Orihime was taken, they wouldn’t even try to get her back so I tried. Some shinigami helped...for awhile. Once I was caught, once I became

this

, once I lost everyone, that stopped. Aizen said that they would, and the bastard was right. He was right, and I hate him for it. He knew, oyaji,

he knew

.”
 
Isshin ventured, “Aizen knew what?”
 
“The more power I had, the better I could protect the things that mattered, the harder it would be to hold on to those things. Even with a decade fighting for them, Soul Society abandoned me.” His tone turned harsh as he hissed, “Now they want me to submit to

their laws,

their laws mean nothing to me.”
 
“Ichigo,” His father’s voice cut through his anger, and he turned to him again. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t regret acting out of anger.”
 
Ichigo stared at him, then chuckled, the sound still not entirely a pleasant one. “My arrancar said the same thing.” He really shouldn’t be there.
 
“Then maybe they’re a better influence than I thought they would be.” He only sounded partially serious, but he shook his head, asking, “What did you want to talk about, Ichigo?”
 
“I

am

going to kill the Soul King, I won’t compromise on that. Yamamoto won’t bend to what I want, and he won’t back down. Should I kill him?”
 
Isshin didn’t seem surprised by this question, crossing his arms against a stubborn thought. He let out a growling sigh. “If you kill Yamamoto, you’ll be seen as nothing but a violent usurper.”
 
Ichigo hummed in agreement. “Yet both of us are unwilling to bend.”
 
Isshin asked, “

Can

you kill him?”
 
Tilting his head to the side in thought, Ichigo looked up. High above them, a plane left the smudge of a contrail through the wisps of distant clouds. The human world felt so removed from all of this bullshit, regardless of die Konigin’s presence. Maybe it was because the millions of humans that inhabited it didn’t notice such things. They were busy with life; car payments, getting into a good college, marriage, careers. It helped put things into perspective.
 
Yes, things would change, but unless die Konigin and Alteza disappeared, up would still be up, and down would still be down.
 
Could he kill Yamamoto? If he stopped playing and turned the edge of his sword on him to kill, their fight would go very differently. Ichigo’s answer was light in tone, but heavy in implication. “Yes.”
 
Isshin made a dismissive sound. “There’s only one of you, and you’re already struggling to maintain your hold on Hueco Mundo.”
 
“That won’t be an issue anymore,” Ichigo interjected. There was an edge to his tone he hadn’t intended, but he felt nonetheless. Implying he couldn’t hold his own land was irritating.
 
“Even still,” Isshin continued, “You now have the Quincy to consider. Yamamoto’s death would create a void in Soul Society you can’t fill.”
 
Ichigo scoffed, looking back down at the school. He couldn’t see his sisters, but he could still sense them, clear as day. “I know, oyaji, but what would you have me do? Yamamoto is no more willing to negotiate than I am.”
 
“Does it hurt to try?”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, looking back at Isshin. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t

want

to kill him.” He looked down at his hand, sunlight glinting off of wicked claws. “But I don’t think all this rage towards him is my own. It

feels

like mine…” He trailed off, unsettled.
 
Mictlan’s very soul was within la sangre, Alteza. It would be stupid to not at least look for something similar within die Konigin. She was there, she had to be. He ignored the screams, and he felt with his heart. Rage, so much rage, but this felt off. He was used to feeling Zangetsu’s urges beneath his own, but he’d wholeheartedly accepted them. He hadn’t even bothered to see if he was letting something else slip through his defenses. Her will hadn’t fully been stripped from das licht, and unlike Mictlan, her soul hadn’t had time to fade...and that was a frightening thought. He hadn’t considered it until that moment, and the thought that even after her death she could cause him problems just made him feel sick.
 
“Ichigo!”
 
He blinked, looking at Isshin. He looked like he had been trying to get his attention for some time, brows furrowed in concern. That didn’t seem right.
 
Zangetsu had nothing to add, he was busy raging that they had once again been fooled, misled into being taken advantage of yet again.
 
The screaming wouldn’t stop, it was only growing louder. Ichigo growled, lifting his hand to his face, irritated by how much he had to focus on. It was just so loud, he had the insane urge to claw himself, abruptly dropping his arm before he acted without thought. “I can’t stay here.”
 
Isshin tried again. “Ichigo…”
 
“I won’t kill Yamamoto...I’ll think of something.” His answer was distracted, but no less genuine. The wind kicked up again, pulling his hair into his face, and he turned away from Isshin to face it. “There’s a lot I need to work through, but I’ll get there.” He was confident he would, he had to be. “Tell them I’ll see them soon.”
 
Isshin frowned and asked, “Is that the truth?”
 
“I’d like to think so.” He told himself a lot of lies, but they felt like the truth when he wanted it so badly. “I’ll adjust, I always do.”
 
“Be careful, Ichigo.” There was worry in his voice, but he could tell it wasn’t worry that he might be killed, it was worry over what he might do. He wanted to say something to reassure him, but he couldn’t think of the words, nothing seemed good enough.
 
He pulled on la sangre, disappearing in a swirl of dark. He couldn’t say goodbye, that felt too permanent.
 
Feet sinking into the dunes, the screaming was reduced again to distant wails. He spoke aloud, needed the distinction from his mind. “Switch, Zangetsu. I need a break.” A break from a urges and the screaming and the wanton desire to take vengeance. That wasn’t him, and his panic was enough that Zangetsu didn’t question why.
 
His consciousness was pulled under as Zangetsu surged forward. He opened his eyes in his inner world, the screaming ever present, but here it was detached from his body, it was less of a burden.
 
He sat roughly, resting his arms on crossed knees. He sensed Zangetsu move, hunting adjuchas. That was fine, anything to distract them.
 
Ossan crossed the cracked surface of the building and crouched across from him, his expression as unreadable as always, yet his concern and disappointment was always clear to Ichigo.
 
After a long moment, Ossan said, “You should not have left Hueco Mundo,” Ichigo frowned, expecting a lecture, “but if you had not, Adaliz’s influence would have gone unnoticed for some time.”
 
At mention of her name, Ichigo couldn’t help but grimace. He had been expecting worse, but this wasn’t so bad. He reiterated what Ossan already knew. “I wanted to see them.” It sounded so pathetic out loud.
 
He looked away and Ossan reached out for his cheek. He didn’t touch him, he hovered a hair's breadth away, but he got Ichigo to look back at him. Ossan said, “I cannot fault you for fearing for your sisters, you simply cannot let it consume you.”
 
He knew that, but it was so much harder to do in practice. At least here, in the sanctuary of his own soul, he had something of a reprieve from everything clamoring to take advantage over him.
 
Ossan withdrew his hand and stood, looking out over the roiling sand around them. His shadow stretched from his feet in a sharp line off of the edge of the building as the sun set, deep red light filtering into indigo. “It saddens me to know we cannot do more, and angers me to see we are slowly becoming guests in your soul.”
 
“I know, Ossan,” Ichigo replied softly. He’d done this to himself, there was no enemy for his Zanpakuto to focus on, their frustration had nowhere to go. He knew his Zanpakuto was blaming himself for not noticing the imbalance in his emotions sooner. “None of us noticed. Now that we know, we can be ready for it.” He ran his hands down over his face and laid back, staring up at a blood red moon.
 
He didn’t need to make excuses for his Zanpakuto, or explain what he felt. Sometimes it was just too much and he needed a moment to breathe. Maybe it made him weak to pull back, to hide, but he was frustrated. He stared up at the moon, centering himself, then had enough of being still and rolled to his feet, drawing his swords.
 
Ossan turned to face him, well aware of how restless and cornered he felt. He’d always leaned more heavily towards his hollow side, and with Zangetsu running loose and wrecking carnage across Hueco Mundo, he felt it reflected in himself.
 
He might not have complete control over himself anymore, but

this

was still his. The weight of steel cutting into his palm was real, tangible. Battle had always been the one place he felt clarity, and truly at home. Fighting Zangetsu might not have the same stakes as a life or death battle, not anymore, but no one understood him as well as his own sword, they knew just how hard to push his limits, they knew how to call to his heart.
 
He met his Zanpakuto in a clash of steel, grateful for the chance to tear his mind from everything but his instincts.

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
Kurosaki swore up and down they would be able to walk straight through la sangre, but it still made him uneasy to think about. He’d seen what Kurosaki did with this shit, he’d felt it, and it made him anxious about willingly walking straight into it. Fire was fire, you didn’t go sticking your hand in it expecting not to be burned.
 
He might be scared of it, but he didn’t let it show in anything more than an annoyed scowl. Like hell he would let any of these arrancar know he was scared of some dark smoke. From the tense line of their shoulders, he had a feeling they weren’t thrilled about it either. That on top of stepping into a church that was crawling with Quincy sounded stupid, even by his standards.
 
People milled around the grounds, walking by them as if they didn’t exist, as if the entire building wasn’t shrouded in a cloak of shivering darkness. It seemed to suck in the light, no matter how brightly the sun shone. A cloud cast the church grounds into shade, and he could swear it roiled faster.
 
A gardener skipped a section of bushes within Kurosaki’s bubble without even pausing to wonder why. The people might not have been able to see them, or la sangre, but they never lingered near it for long, and in all the time they’d stood there, no one had gone into the church, even if it seemed to be open to the public. The same way even the most basic of souls could sense something was wrong when a hollow was near, this seemed to affect people on a level they didn’t even understand. They stepped around it like something was physically there. It was creepy.
 
Starrk drawled, “What are we waiting for?”
 
Harribel glanced back at him, an air of disapproval in the look she shot him. Whatever it was about Starrk’s attitude, she didn’t like him much, but Grimmjow was always impressed that she never let it color her tone. “Ichigo told us to wait a few moments before attempting to pass through la barrera.”
 
Yylfordt huffed and said, “Relax, I know you’re eager to get back to doing

nothing

, but I’d rather stand here for a few minutes and walk through it with no problem than rush it and lose a limb or some shit.”
 
Starrk made a rude noise, but didn’t respond. His shadow, Lilynette, just scowled at la sangre with fervor he’d only seen her direct towards Nel.
 
Speaking of Nel. He looked over his shoulder and caught her eye someplace in the back. She didn’t look happy, not that this was a field trip, but it was still odd, and she broke eye contact first. Hnnn.
 
Harribel broke him from his thoughts. “Be ready.” She stepped forward, walking through la sangre as if it wasn’t there. The confidence in her steps inspired confidence, not that Grimmjow would ever admit it. He followed her through the wall of dark, and it was less unpleasant that he expected. He was expecting the displacement of a jump, but that wasn’t what he got. Like cold water on his skin, it passed around him quickly and painlessly, it was more of a shock.
 
Inside, the walls and pillars of the church were stark white marble, and despite the barrier la sangre had erected, light still streamed in through the windows. That was interesting.
 
It seemed their arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. Despite la Barrera, they were greeted by a handful of Quincy, a long haired blonde in front seemingly the leader of the group. He remembered seeing him shouting orders in Soul Society, and while he hadn’t fought him personally, he recalled he was strong.
 
The self proclaimed leader of the bunch stepped forward without fear. He had balls to do that when completely at their mercy. He asked, “Where is the godling?”
 
“You will speak to

me

,” Harribel iterated.
 
“You, arrancar, did not do this.” The Quincy threw his arm out to the side, gesturing to the darkness that contained them.
 
Harribel didn’t miss a beat. “That I did not, but I am the one who is here, and trust that you did not want him here today.”
 
“Do not pretend to care what becomes of us, heartless.” He didn’t put any inflection on the insult, but to Grimmjow, it sounded no less insulting.
 
“Do not mistake my practicality for mercy. My king is, as you say, a godling first, and a king second. You did not want him here.” She barely paused before she carried into her demand. “Give me the arrancar you have stolen.”
 
A long pause. “Should we refuse?”
 
“Then I will take them back by force.” The Quincy didn’t betray any emotion beyond a narrowing of his eyes, but Harribel wasn’t done. “You are not in a position to bargain.”
 
The Quincy had to know this was the best case scenario. Worst was they hadn’t come to talk at all, but slaughter all of them. Grimmjow was fond of that outcome, but they held a common enemy, and as Kurosaki had annoyingly pointed out, this was a problem that would extend across generations if they killed them now.
 
The Quincy narrowed his eyes, the first indication he was annoyed at all, and raised a hand in a gesture. “Bring them.”
 
Harribel warned, “Intact.”
 
The Quincy said nothing, but didn’t argue. It was then that Grimmjow noticed a blonde woman on their side, staring like she’d seen a ghost. Her eyes were locked someplace over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but twist to track her gaze. Neliel? The arrancar looked even more upset inside the church than she had outside, and that was saying something. If Harribel or the blonde Quincy noticed, they didn’t make note of it. If they had, it might have been seen as a weakness. Grimmjow wasn’t in charge of shit, but he knew that much.
 
One of the Quincy returned with four arrancar, which was more than he expected. He knew he sensed arrancar in Soul Society that weren’t their own, but he hadn’t taken the time to count. What was even stranger to him, was that the four looked reluctant to leave, offended even. That was strange.
 
One of the Quincy shoved a dark haired straggler forward, the four very reluctant to cross over to their side. Grimmjow couldn’t blame them for being wary, but the hate in their eyes was surprising.
 
They hovered a short distance in front of their group, but wouldn’t turn their back on the arrancar.
 
The Quincy ordered, “Take them and go.”
 
Harribel didn’t budge, not about to follow an order, no matter how inconsequential, from an enemy. From where he stood, Grimmjow could see Harribel’s head turn just a fraction to the side. “The woman. Her name.”
 
“It’s Candice,

bitch

.” The blonde woman took a step forward, drawing power to her hand.
 
The Quincy in change snapped, “

Candice

.”
 
She stopped, teeth grinding together, and shook her hand out, over eager for a fight. She kind of reminded him of himself, with a temper like that. It made him a bit sympathetic, but not enough that he wasn’t a bit annoyed that a fight hadn’t broken out.
 
Harribel didn’t thank them for the information, she simply turned, warning the Quincy. “We will be back soon.” Turning her back like that spoke to her confidence in her own skill and the arrancar with her. If the Quincy struck at her now, their feeble code of honor would mean nothing.
 
They didn’t attack, or make any move to go after them. He and the other arrancar waited for her to leave first, watching the enemy, then followed suit, herding the outsider arrancar back with them. To be fair, they weren’t anything but prisoners, they were still enemies, but their sympathies toward the Quincy were baffling.
 
Once n the courtyard, one of the arrancar tried to bolt. Grimmjow sighed and ordered simply. “Yylfordt.”
 
The young arrancar was up or a game of sport, blurring into sonido to cut off their escapee. He caught him fairly quickly, dragging him back with no shortage of violence. Harribel didn’t wait for them, she had plenty of confidence he would be caught.
 
She opened a garganta, catching Neliel’s eye as she did. A silent conversation passed between the two, a grim look on Neliel’s face. He was distracted from that by Yylfordt bodily throwing the runaway arrancar into the ground by their group. And he did mean into.
 
The ground cratered under the impact, a few of th humans nearby that were close enough to witness this screamed or jumped in shock. Grimmjow tried not to roll his eyes. “If he can’t get up and walk,

you’re

carrying him.”
 
He heard an indignant “What?!” from high above him, and the captured arrancar coughed up blood. He definitely wasn’t dragging his dead ass back to Las Noches. While he rarely disapproved of violence, in this case, it was just a hassle.
 
He stepped around the groaning arrancar to Harribel’s side, having just as much confidence in the other Espada as she did, and asked quietly enough that the others wouldn’t overhear. “What are you going to do with them?”
 
“Kurosaki can read their hearts, their intentions. If they don’t pass the bar, I imagine he’ll kill them whether I ask him to refrain or not.” There was a hint of resigned bitterness in her voice, but they both knew if Kurosaki wanted someone dead, they probably couldn’t and wouldn’t be too bothered trying to stop him, especially not when they were prisoners and not Espada.
 
He followed her into the garganta, glancing back over his shoulder. Yylfordt had ended up dragging the defeated arrancar with a fist in the back of his jacket, and none of the other arrancar seemed willing to risk being humiliated in the same way. Good enough.
 
Personally, he didn’t care either way what happened to the arrancar, but they seemed strong enough, killing them would be such a waste.
 
The moment they stepped into Hueco Mundo, he stiffened, his instincts railing against the reiatsu that weighed heavy on his shoulders. “Shit.” He turned back, and the rest of the Espada that followed struggled to even stand without shaking. It wasn’t necessarily new at that point, and they had all learned by then if they hadn’t broken any cardinal sins and Kurosaki wasn’t standing right there, they weren’t in danger.
 
The other arrancar didn’t know that, and this was the reiatsu of someone out for blood. They were slow, and Grimmjow wasn’t prepared for it. The arrancar Yylfordt dragged through the garganta was on his own on his knees, and it only took a heartbeat for him to draw his sword and shove it through his own throat.
 
“Shit!” Yylfordt lunged forward a second too late, the suicidal arrancar slumping to his side. Yylfordt kicked him onto his back, yanking the blade free and swore again. The arrancar was still alive, but losing that much blood without instant regeneration, he was dead as dead could be.
 
Harribel made an annoyed sound and ordered, “Take their weapons.” The Espada might be struggling against the ocean that comprised of Kurosaki’s reiatsu, but they didn’t hesitate or drag their feet. Two of the remaining three arrancar looked insulted that they might expect them to take the easy route, but the third watched the dying arrancar with enough envy that Grimmjow wouldn't put it past him to try to follow in his footsteps.
 
Harribel asked Grimmjow to go, well aware he was the safest option to send after Kurosaki when he was angry.
 
With Kurosaki’s reiatsu blanketing Hueco Mundo in a cloud of oppressive killing intent, it was easy enough to find him, but that didn’t mean it didn’t take some time to get there. Hueco Mundo was massive, and Kurosaki could move blindingly fast.
 
That his reiatsu had been lowered for so long meant that he was feeling a bit sadistic. This wasn’t the reiatsu of a hollow that was looking for a fight, this felt like deliberate, mindless slaughter.
 
Kurosaki stood over the mangled remains of an adjuchas, arms dark with arterial blood. The wind shifted, and the scents he got from him weren’t from one adjuchas, but many. That didn’t bode well.
 
There was a loose carelessness to the way he stood, the way he idly twirled his sword in his hand. He recognized it immediately, although that didn’t mean he wasn’t still surprised. “Zangetsu?”
 
The hollow turned to him, stretching Ichigo's face into a manic smile. He hadn’t ever seen that expression on Kurosaki’s face before, but that didn’t mean it didn’t fit his face. He drawled lazily, “

Koneko

. You recognize me, I’m flattered.”
 
Grinding his teeth together at the new pet name, he growled out. “You can’t possibly think I'm that stupid.” He acted entirely different, even if he looked the same. He jerked his chin in his direction, asking, “Why are you taking him for a ride, what happened?”
 
Zangetsu’s smile evaporated into a steady glare. “What makes you believe something happened?”
 
“I’ve never seen you in control before.” He looked down at the dead adjuchas behind Kurosaki’s hollow, and back. “He knows about this?”
 
Zangetsu flicked the blood from the blade. “Contrary to what you believe, koneko, King is well aware of what I do with his body.” He sheathed the sword on his back and said, “King needed some distance.”
 
“From what?”
 
“

Adaliz

,” He snarled.
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened. “But she’s dead, isn’t she?”
 
Zangetsu laughed, and he managed to sound both angry and apathetic at the same time. It would have been impressive if it wasn’t so unnerving. “That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Nooooo, her soul is in here too, her desires are all mixed up with das licht

. Fucking bitch

.”
 
Understanding struck him like a physical blow, staring at Zangetsu. “That rage Kurosaki is feeling is hers?”
 
“Some of it is his own fueled by das licht, but that unreasonable fury isn’t his.” He growled, turning his sights on another adjuchas a few miles away. He only took one step before Grimmjow stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. The frigid look Zangetsu shot him made him step back, jerking his hand way. “You’re lucky King likes you.”
 
While he didn’t think Zangetsu would kill him, he didn’t want to push his luck either. It was already taking an unreasonable amount of willpower just to stand this close to him when his reiatsu was this low. He said, “I’d be happy to let you work this out, but I thought you might want to know that we brought back the hollows the Quincy had taken.”
 
Zangetsu bared his teeth in a silent snarl. “It can’t wait?”
 
Grimmjow was grateful he had practice facing someone leagues stronger than him, otherwise his voice might not have been so steady. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware, but your reiatsu is

heavy

, you feel more than a little bit threatening. One of them killed themselves in fear, that’s one less arrancar to interrogate. I don’t give a shit about any hollow that would follow a Quincy, but if you keep going like this, our four hostages might be down to zero.”
 
The look on Zangetsu’s face was murderous, and he thought he might decline. His eyes flicking towards Las Noches in thought. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, and a light shudder passed through his shoulders. When he opened them, Kurosaki was staring straight back at him with the same sharp intensity he was accustomed to. Grimmjow asked, “Did you get all that?”
 
“Yes.” His answer held the fringes of anger and he had yet to raise his reiatsu back to where it should be. He wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or not.
 
Grimmjow blinked, and he found Kurosaki’s hand on his shoulder, followed swiftly by the rending nausea of la sangre. He staggered, catching himself on a knee, and was unsurprised to find himself within Las Noches yet again. He panted, glaring up at Kurosaki, but the visored’s attention was already on their hostages.
 
The Hollow that had impaled himself was still lying there, the other three huddling close together only feet from his prone form. None of the other Espada were there, only Harribel. They weren’t bound in any way, there was no reason to when anyone in that room could subdue them with ease.
 
Kurosaki’s reiatsu still hung in the air, but now it was directed at the three captive arrancar. Kurosaki’s eyes flitted over to the still body of the dead arrancar and whispered, “Coward.” He looked back at the other three and they shrank back, their instincts warning them of a predator they couldn’t kill. He didn’t even need to lift a finger for la sangre to rise from the floor to devour the dead arrancar.
 
They looked terrified, and Grimmjow didn’t blame them. Hell,

he

was scared, and he knew Kurosaki wouldn’t kill him.
 
Faster than any hollow in the room could track, Kurosaki had his hand covering the face of one of the hollows, claws digging in hard enough to draw blood. The other two would have bolted in panic, but with the hammerfall of Kurosaki’s reiatsu, they could barely even breathe.
 
The hollow he’d grabbed grit his teeth through a scream, but whatever Kurosaki was doing, it wasn’t visible to anyone present. Only a moment passed before he let him go, the blood on Kurosaki’s hands still fresh enough to leave a streak of crimson across the hollow’s face. The arrancar fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and watched Kurosaki with fearful awe.
 
The hollow muttered, “You’re like her, the same, the same…” He kept muttering to himself and Grimmjow wished he would stop. Comparing him to Adaliz was a dangerous thing to do, he could see it in the flash of anger he saw tighten Kurosaki’s shoulders.
 
Kurosaki crouched to get to his level, and reached out and grabbed the arrancar by the throat, his hold loose enough that the other could still speak. It wasn’t to harm him, it was nothing but a somewhat gentle show of dominance. Grimmjow was surprised by his restraint, he half expected Kurosaki to kill him just because he could, and that he hadn’t spoke volumes to the change in his control from merely hours before.
 
Kurosaki spoke quietly, but Grimmjow could still hear every word that he spoke. “You were afraid. I understand. She promised you safety, freedom, you saw what happened to those that refused. I saw what you did, I see your heart.”
 
The arrancar watched Kurosaki like he was the grim reaper himself. Kurosaki tilted his head, looking through the arrancar. Grimmjow knew that look, Kurosaki had leveled it at him more than once. It was unsettling to know he wasn’t exaggerating when he said he could see his heart.
 
Kurosaki straightened, forcing the arrancar to rise of his own volition, or risk being strangled. The red headed arrancar watched Kurosaki in fear, but didn’t dare try to remove his hand. Kurosaki said, “I don’t want you to swear your loyalty, words mean little to me. I won’t let you live for less than

everything

.”
 
Grimmjow had never been on the receiving end of Kurosaki’s fury, not in earnest, not even before he knew him. The look in his eyes now was like ice. Kurosaki could be merciful, he’d seen it, but there was very little of that now. He let the arrancar go slowly, allowing him to stand on his own. “You turned on your own kind, Asguiaro, but I understand, I do.” He dragged his thumb over the mask fragment that covered his left eye, leaving a streak of red on white. He pulled his hand away, voice surprisingly steady. “She filled your heart with poison, but I’ve taken it back. Your heart is once again your own.”
 
The arrancar stared at him in fear, shock, and...relief. Kurosaki’s eyes narrowed intently. “I don’t expect you to be

good

, Asguiaro, but I do expect you to be

mine

.” He tilted his head again, and Grimmjow had the sense that he was only hearing half of a conversation.
 
Grimmjow had no idea how he learned the arrancar’s name, he hadn’t heard him say it, but Asguiaro looked as unsettled as he ought to. The arrancar asked, “How?”
 
Grimmjow didn’t know what he was asking, but Kurosaki seemed to. “You already have.” He disappeared, claws ripping the throat out of one of the remaining arrancar with no preamble at all. Both arrancar spun to watch on in horror, blood spraying onto their clothes. Kurosaki let the arrancar drop, blood pooling over white stone. La sangre rose to consume the dying hollow like so many hungry mouths.
 
Kurosaki watched impassively as one of the remaining arrancar scrambled back. His desperation was in vain, he backed into Kurosaki’s legs, the visored moving so quickly it was as if he’d always been there. The arrancar scramble to face him, and found Kurosaki’s hand around his throat, lifting the final arrancar to his level. His tone was chiding. “Luders...I haven’t forgotten you. You’re not so different, fear drives so many hollows…” He trailed off, letting him stand of his own volition. He withdrew his hand, leaving a bloody handprint in a ring around his neck.
 
He watched Luders.. “What will it be?”
 
Luders found his voice more easily than the redhead, and he dropped his eyes in submission, voice low. “I know what you are...You can have it.”
 
He must have been telling the truth, because Kurosaki turned away, his tone hard. “Do as Harribel orders. I’ll be watching you both. Closely.” His reiatsu suddenly vanished, breathing no longer a chore, and Kurosaki turned to leave. After a split second and a shared look with Harribel, Grimmjow followed. If Kurosaki hadn’t simply moved through la sangre, he took that to be an invitation to follow.
 
He didn’t need to follow him, Kurosaki didn’t often expect it, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned. Kurosaki

looked

fine, but that in and of itself was a bad sign.
 
He trailed behind him for several minutes before Kurosaki muttered. “I can’t believe she would do that…”
 
“Do what?”
 
Kurosaki stopped, looking back. “I wasn’t being metaphorical, she poisoned their heart with das licht. You can barely stand

la sangre

, and it’s a part of what you are, if I...” He looked to the side, then back. “Sorry.”
 
“For what?”
 
“Pulling you through la sangre.” Oh. He grimaced at the all too recent memory, and ignored the apology. “Why would she do that?”
 
“Control. I didn’t go easy on them, but it was hard not to. Those two didn’t deserve to die, but there was no saving them, she

ruined

them.” He spat the word in disgust, turning to continue down the hall.
 
Kurosaki could harden his heart if he had to, but Grimmjow was no longer under the misguided opinion that it didn’t affect him. No one was simply a stranger anymore. He hid it well, but he was still just one person, and he was shouldering the pain of hundreds.
 
Kurosaki skipped the room with the uniforms, heading straight for the baths. It was a larger room, even by the standards of las noches, stairs descending into a pool of water of about waist height. It wasn’t freezing, but it wasn’t warm either.
 
Kurosaki splashed into the water without even stripping his armor, scrubbing at the blood on his arms.
 
Grimmjow watched for a moment, then sat by the edge, watching thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure why the visored was so adamant about getting rid of the blood, but he knew it wasn’t because he was squeamish, and he knew he probably wouldn’t tell him. Kurosaki didn’t seem so angry anymore, he seemed panicked, and that he was allowed to see it at all was a testament to the trust Kurosaki had in him. Maybe once he would have argued it was misplaced, but not anymore.
 
Ripples stretched out around Kurosaki, noticeable when he stilled. The slosh of water against the edges of the pool echoed sharply in the room, the light reflecting up along the walls in a shivering web, making the room feel darker than it was. Kurosaki still didn’t move, water dripping from his hair in a rhythmic patter. Grimmjow ventured, “Kurosaki?”
 
The visored sucked in a breath as if he’d forgotten he was there and glanced back. He cast a frightening profile, even dripping wet. In the dim light, his eyes burned against the warlike streaks of black down his cheeks, but they didn’t burn with violence in the way he’d come to expect.
 
Grimmjow wasn’t sure what it was about that look in his eyes, but he felt compelled to act. He got up, never breaking eye contact, and sloshed into the water until he was within arms reach.
 
For a long, painful minute, there was nothing but the sound of water lapping against stone. Kurosaki turned to face him fully, and despite the slump of his shoulders, he had an air of aggression hanging around him. It was a permanent thing that never left him, even as he slept. He was a dangerous person.
 
Grimmjow didn’t move when Kurosaki reached for him. Despite the violence he’d just displayed, he knew he wouldn’t hurt him. His claws settled on the mask fragments on his jaw, so light he could barely feel it. He knew with that simple touch, he could feel his heart, all of anger and insecurities and regret. He didn’t like how vulnerable this made him feel, but he’d been the one to offer, and he was no coward.
 
He’d seen how disorienting it was to sift through a hollow’s heart, and he’d seen him do it enough to remember the consequences. To kill a hollow outright without needing to touch their mask, he must not have liked what he felt. He’d also come to realize how uncomfortable and risky it was for Kurosaki to actively consume a hollow with la sangre. He hadn’t asked for help, Kurosaki rarely did, but he could be there to offer. It wasn’t as if he could do much else.
 
For several long minutes, Kurosaki said nothing, his eyes unfocused as he grounded himself in Grimmjow's heart. He reluctantly pulled away, dropping his arm to his side, but Grimmjow could see tired gratitude in his eyes.
 
Grimmjow asked, “Does it really make a difference?” He could understand temporary relief, but surely a few minutes tied to his heart didn’t really matter in the end.
 
Kurosaki’s lips twitched up into a ghost of a smile. “You have a chaotic soul, Grimmjow, it’s far from peaceful, but peaceful isn’t necessarily helpful. You’re familiar, it helps.”
 
He glanced past Grimmjow, then waded around him to sit on the stairs, his arms resting on his knees. He still smelled like blood, but he seemed clean enough.
 
Grimmjow followed, sitting near him, not necessarily beside him. He was soaking wet, but he didn’t really mind. If it saved Kurosaki a few more moments of panic, he could live with being a little uncomfortable. All he did was show up, it felt more like an insult than actual help.
 
He must have been scowling to himself, because Kurosaki reiterated. “It helps, Grimmjow.” He didn’t respond, and Kurosaki kept talking, slowly and deliberately, as if carefully choosing his words. “It’s frustrating. There’s no enemy to kill that can fix this. Things would be so much simpler if simply having more power could solve all my problems.”
 
“It can't hurt.” Grimmjow had seen enough of his scars to know that much.
 
Kurosaki snorted. “Depends on what counts as ‘hurt’, but I can’t complain.” Water dripped in a steady rhythm from the end of his hair to the growing puddle of water beneath him. It took Grimmjow a moment to realize Kurosaki was staring down at his own reflection. “Do you think I'll fail?”
 
“Fail?” He glared at him. “The fuck are you on about?”
 
He elaborated, “With Soul Society. Everything.”
 
“Afraid?” Grimmjow sneered.
 
Kurosaki didn’t rise to the bait. His tone wasn’t necessarily sad, merely pensive. “A bit. I keep wondering how the fuck I ended up here.”
 
“Having second thoughts?” If he was, that irritated him.
 
His irritation was unwarranted, Kurosaki’s eyes flicking up to meet his with unwavering resolve. “I have no regrets, only concerns.” And there it was, the confidence that earned Kurosaki his loyalty, his life.
 
Grimmjow growled, “So what then?”
 
Kurosaki was the last person he’d ever get to back off with irritation. The look on his face was surprisingly calm. “You put a surprising amount of trust in me.”
 
Grimmjow’s response was defensive, but not as much as it had been in the past. “Are you saying it’s undeserved?”
 
“As a king, I think I’m obligated to say no, but that isn’t what I meant. No arrancar trusts easily…” He looked back down at his reflection and Grimmjow thought he saw loathing in his eyes. “You, least of all.”
 
Grimmjow had nothing to say about that, he couldn’t even tell him he was wrong. Kurosaki had held his soul in his hands, he’d had every opportunity to destroy him, and he hadn’t taken it. He looked away, eyes narrowed in pointless anger.
 
Kurosaki continued, voice soft. “It feels wrong to know someone-to

know

you. It feels unfair”
 
“Kurosaki.”
 
“They say souls can’t remember who they were, but that’s a load of shit, isn’t it? You remember the ocean, the taste of salt in the air.”
 
“

Kurosaki

.” He didn’t want to hear any more.
 
“I know why you fight so hard to win. I know why it hurts so much when you fail.”
 
Grimmjow stood and drew Pantera, the blade stopping just an inch from his throat. Kurosaki didn’t even flinch, and he didn’t think it was because his blade couldn’t cut him. Kurosaki knew even if he could, he wouldn’t. He might trust Kurosaki, but that trust was returned tenfold.
 
The visored looked up at him, steady acceptance in his eyes. Why did he have to look at him like that?
 
WHYWHYWHY
 
He slashed downward and away, the reiatsu that sluiced off the blade sending the water in the pool seething into agitated waves and he screamed, the sound bouncing off the walls back at him. Kurosaki watched him without a flicker of judgement on his face, damn him.
 
“Why do you have to do that?” Grimmjow demanded.
 
“Do what, Grimmjow?” It hung in the air between them, all the things that were said and unsaid, and it filled him with irrational anger. Why did Kurosaki have to give a shit. Why did he make

him

give a shit? Why did he have to drag those feelings into the light where he couldn’t ignore them. Why?
 
“I don’t know what you are to me, Grimmjow. You’re more than just a fraccion...a friend. I don’t know what to call you.” He stood, watching him like he might bolt. “I don’t know what I did to earn it, but somehow I matter to you. I understand, I do…” He trailed off, looking away. The water slowly settled, the the sound echoing sharply off stone walls.
 
“

Do you?

” Grimmjow’s voice was scathing.
 
Kurosaki’s voice was soft in return, so much so he barely heard him over the lapping of the water. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
 
He hated rhetorical questions. Even if he could kill Kurosaki, it was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t even realize he’d lowered his sword until the tip scraped the ground. He stared at Kurosaki with wide eyes, torn between fury and something he didn’t understand.
 
Kurosaki gave him time to settle, even if he still felt he was hovering on the brink of panic. The visored crossed over to him slowly, as if he might spook like some wild animal. He flinched when he reached for him, so maybe that caution was justified.
 
It wasn’t too often Kurosaki touched him without the intent to harm, but when he wasn’t, he was exceedingly gentle. It wasn’t that Kurosaki thought he was fragile, that wasn’t it, it was like he was afraid he wasn’t there at all.
 
Kurosaki’s fingers rested just above his heart. He wouldn’t have tolerated this kind of proximity from anyone else. It wasn’t that Kurosaki was stronger,

he trusted him

. He knew that in an abstract sense, but he was beginning to understand what it actually meant. Trust meant too many things to name.
 
Kurosaki could make him so angry, but there was so much more than that. His touch was featherlight, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t important. He’d seen him kill with his bare hands, he’d seen him do things that should give any self respecting arrancar nightmares, but that wasn’t why his touch scared him.
 
“I may not be able to give this a name,” Kurosaki spoke quietly, the words not coming to him easily, “but I need you.”
 
Grimmjow took a step back, breaking contact. He knew what Kurosaki was looking for in his heart, and he didn’t want to let him see it. His tone was derisive. “What does a

God

need with

me

?”
 
Kurosaki dropped his hand, allowing him his space. “Is that what you think of me?” Grimmjow wasn’t sure why that seemed to offend him so much. He wanted to push him away, didn’t he? Well, it worked. If this is what he wanted, then why did the hurt in his eyes make him feel like trash?
 
Kurosaki let the insult lie. “It doesn’t matter how strong I am if I forget who I am, or I lose all the things that matter to me. I can’t do this without you.”
 
“Why me?”
 
Kurosaki sighed. “You keep asking, and my answer hasn’t changed.”
 
His grip on Pantera tightened, shoulders tensing. “So tell me again.”
 
Kurosaki looked away in thought. “I guess that was a lie. It

has

changed. Sure, you’re familiar, I know your reiatsu inside and out.” Grimmjow thought he deliberately avoided bringing up his heart, but even unsaid, the implication still clouded the air between them. “You’re abrasive, volatile, violent, stubborn, impulsive, instinctive, you can barely follow an order; These traits should all be faults; they aren’t to me. I don’t need someone agreeable, I don’t want that. Something fragile wouldn’t survive me. It’s so difficult not to hurt someone, kill them. Do you understand?”
 
He hated rhetorical questions. He didn’t understand, but he could guess. He’d seen Kurosaki kill on accident before, he’d seen him struggle not to. At first he chalked it up to bad self control, but his opinion had changed. Kurosaki had an unbelievable amount of control, but when he had to pull a single drop of water from a veritable maelstrom, mistakes happened. Rhetorical or not, Grimmjow answered, “More than I should.”
 
“You used to find it patronizing that I had to hold back at all, and I think you eventually accepted it was how things were. That isn’t right. I haven’t been holding back around you for awhile now, you just haven’t noticed. You’re the only person I’m not afraid to touch, to fight, to talk to, the only person I haven’t lied to.” He laughed, a sound that died in his throat. “I guess that’s sad.”
 
Grimmjow hadn’t known that, he hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Then again, the only other person Kurosaki even let touch him was Neliel. He never reached back, not with the casual ease he reached for him. Even if it was only to make a point or piss him off, Kurosaki didn’t hesitate around him. Kurosaki used to sleep when he was around out of necessity, but now it seemed to be the opposite, and he wasn’t sure when that had changed.
 
Kurosaki pressed, “I might need you, but you don’t need me.”
 
“I hate it when you talk for me,” he growled. “What makes you think I don’t need you around? You’re king, aren’t you?”
 
The prick laughed at him. Maybe not directly at him, but it still made him angry. Why wasn’t he taking him seriously? Kurosaki said, “And if Alteza and die Konigin devoured me tomorrow, you would be fine.”
 
“Don’t give me that shit!”
 
Kurosaki gave him a chiding look. “You’re a survivor, Grimmjow, you would be fine. You don’t need me.”
 
“Last I checked you seemed pretty fucking hard to kill, why the fuck do you need me?” He told him, or so he said, but he still didn’t understand

why

.
 
Kurosaki blurted, “You keep me sane, Grimmjow.” The silence that followed that statement was thick. He muttered, “That’s the long and the short of it.”
 
“You have family, people that know you better than me, why does it have to be

me

?” He didn’t want that kind of pressure, he just wanted to fight his way to the top. He never asked for all this bullshit.
 
“I already told you, and I keep telling you…” He didn’t sound frustrated, he sounded like he was talking himself through something.
 
Grimmjow blinked, and Kurosaki was gone. “...and telling you.” He only knew where he was because he spoke from someplace behind him. He spun, flinging his blade out on instinct. Kurosaki raised his wrist, stopping his swing just shy of his neck. “That’s one reason.”
 
Predictable bastard, the visored just couldn’t help himself. “Fuck you!”
 
He jumped back and Kurosaki’s face stretched into a lazy smile. “That’s another.”
 
Before he could move to anticipate him, Kurosaki was suddenly too close, his hand curled around Pantera’s blade to keep him in place. “My family doesn’t understand instinct. They don’t know what it’s like to fight to exist, to sink claws into something that wants to throw you down and crush you. You like the fight as much as I do. You understand, you know.”
 
He let go of Pantera, and made to back away, but it was Grimmjow’s turn to stop him. His hand snapped out to grab him by a horn without thinking. Kurosaki paused, looking at him in what seemed to be amusement. Blood pooled in his hand, his hierro not enough to protect him from the sharp edge. He jerked him closer, and he had no delusions that he’d done so on his own; Kurosaki let him.
 
Grimmjow had nothing to say, he just looked, and what he saw in his eyes was no less than what he expected. Steady resolve, understanding, and the sharp glimmer of violence...or madness. Even the thought of abandoning what he’d started pissed him off, he wouldn’t just leave him to this mess, he wasn’t a coward.
 
He narrowed his eyes with a growl and pushed him away. Kurosaki merely rocked back on his heels, watching him silently. “Why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?”
 
“Sorry.”
 
“You don’t fucking mean that.” Grimmjow sheathed his sword, practically throwing it into the scabbard, and moved back towards the pool, crouching down to run his bloodied hand through the water. It wasn’t that Kurosaki’s horns were particularly sharp, but the force he exerted to hold him still was enough to rebound and hurt him instead. It still bled, so he held it beneath the water, making an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “You’re right, and I fucking hate you for it.”
 
Kurosaki hummed, the sound caught halfway between a growl and contemplation. “You don’t hate me, you wouldn’t be here if you did.”
 
“Bastard…” He lifted his hand from the water, watching red seep from the cut in his palm, turning the water pink. He flicked his wrist and stood. Good enough.
 
Kurosaki was watching him like he wasn’t sure what to say. Grimmjow snorted under his breath, muttering. “I’m not going anywhere.” He was still angry, but he had no outlet for it, no real reason. He didn’t like the pressure of giving a shit, he hated it. He preferred the days when nothing mattered but blood and violence and winning. Things weren’t simple anymore.
 
Kurosaki asked, “Are you unhappy?”
 
“What a stupid fucking question.” He gave his head a hard shake and snapped, “You can read me like a book can’t you? You fucking tell me.”
 
“Contrary to what you think, just because I can feel an emotion doesn’t mean I always understand. That’s beside the point.” Kurosaki reached up to run the side of his finger along the edge of the horn he’d grabbed, looking at the blood he drew away with an odd sort of fascination. “If I’m not touching you, trust I’m not listening to your heart.” He looked up, his tone dry. “I know you won’t believe me when I say it, but I do value your privacy.”
 
Grimmjow glanced at him, and he believed him. When Kurosaki told him he didn’t lie to him, he believed it. He walked back to the stairs, splashing through a puddle, and sat in a relatively dry spot. “I don’t know. You haven’t made anything worse.”
 
Kurosaki chuckled, taking a place up against the wall. He crossed his arms and let his head fall back against the stone. “I’ll take it.”
 
A long moment passed, and Grimmjow took that time to relax. Anger wasn’t going to change anything, and his usual method wasn’t an option. Killing the problem wasn’t going to happen, even if he wanted it to. That meant he had to deal with it.
 
“Will you come with me to Soul Society?” Kurosaki asked.
 
“Why do you ask such stupid questions?”
 
Kurosaki glanced over to him, then closed his eyes. “You know I won’t order you to do something questionable.”
 
Grimmjow looked over his shoulder at him, grateful for the change in subject. “What exactly are you going to do?”
 
A smile stretched across the visored’s face, one that promised violence, and one that he didn’t think Kurosaki could hold back. “What I do best.” He looked down at Grimmjow, amber eyes reflecting an eagerness he’d seen before. “Tear things apart.”
 
“Stupid questions, Kurosaki,” he hissed. “Fucking stupid.”

--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading!

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“They say we come from nothing

And to nothing we'll return

And in between is gravity

And bridges left to burn.”

- Vampires, The Midnight

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

For once, Harribel was the one to call on him, and he had no idea what for. If it was related to him, he had a feeling he’d know about it. When he fucked up, they, and most likely all of Las Noches, were aware of it.
 
He raised a brow when he entered the room and saw Neliel. He knew she was there, he’d sensed her, but the look on her face was full of guilt and dread.
 
He noted her presence, then crossed the room to them, shooting Harribel a questioning look. “You wanted to talk?”
 
Harribel gestured to Neliel, letting her explain. His fraccion shifted her weight, uncomfortable, but she wasn’t the type to shy away from things just because they were difficult. “I know one of the Quincy.”
 
His eyes widened, surprised, but withholding judgement. For the moment. “How?”
 
She fidgeted a bit, then continued, “When I was in human world. At first I didn’t know what she was, but once I learned, I didn’t necessarily push her away. I could lie and say it was to gain information, but that’s just it, it would be a lie. I never asked leading questions, and she never shared.”
 
Ichigo studied her expression. “She didn’t know what you were, though, did she?”
 
Neliel’s face fell. “She does now.”
 
He watched her closely, filling in the nuances of what she wasn’t telling him. He wouldn’t read her heart without asking if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, but this had a simple fix. “Fine. You’re barred from handling the Quincy.”
 
“Ichigo!”
 
He snapped, “Are you saying your judgement is still sound in regards to this Quincy?”
 
“Candice…” she offered quietly.
 
He saw real fear in her eyes, and his tone softened, just a touch. “I’m not going to kill them, that isn’t my intention, but I won’t lie to you and tell you I’m feeling merciful. I’m not.”
 
Neliel paled, lifting her hand to her arm in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. He didn’t let it get to him, he looked back to Harribel, silently thanking her for intervening and turning it over to him, then back to his fraccion. He saved her the stress and moved closer to her at nothing but a walk.
 
She wouldn’t look at him, the conflict on her face barely hidden. “Nel.” She didn’t look, so he tried again. “Neliel.”
 
Her eyes flicked up towards him, watching him carefully. He said, “Don’t forget I’m Quincy too. I’m not going to deal with them as Ichigo, or the king of Hueco Mundo. I’m going to deal with them as
das herz der Königin.” He always found it strange how easily the words came to mind, as if they weren’t his own. “It has to be that way.”
 
She didn’t look like she wanted to argue, she only seemed thoughtful. She asked, “Will you let me speak to her when this is over?”
 
Ichigo didn’t want to amend that statement with ‘if she’s alive,’ even if that made it more truthful. He said, “Probably.”
 
Her shoulders fell in relief, and he felt for her, he really did. He wasn’t looking forward to this, although it was for entirely different reasons than hers. She bent in a shallow bow, one he wasn't expecting. “Thank you, heika.”
 
He wasn’t used to formality, it never sat well with him, but he wouldn’t brush it off when her heart was behind it. He bit back a sigh and said, “Go.”
 
She straightened, turning to give Harribel a lesser bow, but filled with no less respect. She left, leaving the pair alone.
 
Harribel waited until she was out of earshot before she made comment. “She did not act while we were in human world, although her presence did agitate Candice.” She let out a quiet sigh. “She has to be some sort of masochist to request to go, only to be looked at like that.”
 
Ichigo wasn’t surprised to know she had gone along with going if only to see the Quincy she cared about, regardless of the damage it might do for Candice to learn the truth. He didn’t need to be there to know what must have transpired. He said, “She’s always been that way. She wants to remain loyal, but I don’t think she can trust her heart not to get in the way.”
 
He thought about that, then asked, “Candice looked betrayed?”
 
Harribel glanced down, reassessing before she spoke. “Shocked, then angry. The kind of anger that can only be sparked by caring.”
 
So then their friendship was mutual, that could be useful.
 
Harribel wasn’t dense, she could read between the lines. “Careful, Ichigo. You risk alienating one of your most loyal arrancar.”
 
He didn’t shrug off that warning, it was completely valid. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He didn’t want to dismiss Neliel’s feelings, but it might come in handy to bridge the gap between Quincy and hollows.
 
Changing the subject, she asked, “When do you intend to deal with the Quincy?”
 
“I’m getting used to die Königin. Soon.”
 
She studied him, then said, “Don’t push yourself too hard.”
 
He said, “I won’t pretend I’m not eager, but I also can’t afford to give Soul Society the time to think up ways to kill or stop me.”
 
“How likely would that be?” she asked.
 
“Hard to say, they only have a couple of people I’m worried about.” He didn’t sound worried either, it wasn’t a threat he put much weight behind, but it felt arrogant not to consider. Even Aizen had been caught off guard by Kidou, and even though the most proficient Kidou users he knew were on ‘his’ side, that didn’t mean he should write it off.
 
She watched him, and he could see her contemplate digging for more information, but she decided against it. She nodded. “I’ll leave you to handle it then.” She lingered, then added, “Be careful, they’re very angry.”
 
He knew she wasn’t telling him to watch for bodily harm, they couldn’t hurt him. She was telling him not to get carried away. “I’ll try.” He couldn’t make promises, lately they seemed to be nothing but hollow words.
 
He left the old fashioned way, he wanted to walk. He’d been cautioned against interacting with other arrancar, but he didn’t really care enough to curb such a simple desire.
 
He walked without purpose, and inevitably crossed the paths of other arrancar. Not much had changed in the fact that they either went to great pains to avoid him, or tried their hardest to carry on as if he wasn’t there. That was fine by him, as long as none of them felt particularly confrontational.
 
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he realized he was being followed. He wasn’t particularly bothered by that fact, but it was

who

was doing the following that caught his attention. He finally stopped and turned to face them. He technically agreed not to talk to anyone, but he was never very good at following rules.
 
Starrk stared at him a long moment, as if he hadn’t fully thought this through, then crossed the distance to him, his expression somewhere between uncomfortable and annoyed.
 
Ichigo waited until he was a conversational distance away. “Starrk. Where’s Lilynette?”
 
Starrk frowned. “Why ask, don’t you know?”
 
Ichigo huffed. “Yes, but I was being polite and hoping you might explain why she’s not with you.” It was unusual, the pair was usually inseparable.
 
He could sense her some ways off with Pesche and Nel, but he’d been trying not to breathe down his Espada’s necks. He didn’t need la sangre to know that, but with Alteza at his disposal, his knowledge expanded into fields he didn’t necessarily want to know.
 
The Espada just stared at him, then turned away. “Nevermind.”
 
Ichigo grabbed his arm, stopping him short. The sudden flood of feelings and fears that weren’t his own was upsetting and not entirely wanted, but expected. “You didn’t follow me for the better part of an hour for

nothing

.”
 
Starrk looked down at where he’d grabbed him, then away again, waiting to be let go. “It doesn’t matter.”
 
“It does,” Ichigo insisted, but he loosened his grip enough that Starrk could pull away. He only took a few steps before he stopped, indecisive. He started slowly, “You helped your fraccion achieve their segunda etapa, didn’t you?”
 
Ichigo answered, “Yes.”
 
Starrk turned back, emboldened. “Could you help me achieve mine?”
 
Ichigo was expecting that question, and while he could, technically, he was hesitant of allowing Starrk into his soul. He stalled instead. “I thought you didn’t want power?”
 
Starrk gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t.” He ran his hand through his hair, lingering on the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with where this was heading. “I want to be whole again.”

That

was unexpected, and it seemed Starrk thought his surprise warranted some explanation. The Espada dropped his hand, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It was something he said...I can’t shake it.”
 
“Who?”
 
“Ulquiorra. He said he couldn’t be sure what was worse; Destroying your heart, or your soul.” He scoffed, “Then he tried to kill me, and I thought I would forget about it. I didn’t.”
 
“Goddamnit, he tried to kill you?” Ichigo asked, “When?”
 
Starrk shrugged, unconcerned, and didn’t really answer his question. “He wasn’t trying very hard, he didn’t even release his sword.” He looked in Lilynette’s direction, the miles between them of little consequence. “Is that what I did?”
 
Destroyed his soul? He’d gotten a good look in the time he’d spent around Starrk, with and without la sangre, and he didn’t think that was inaccurate, but it felt like an insult to say when Starrk already seemed to know. Ichigo dodged the question. “Why the sudden doubt?”
 
“The doubt has always been there…” Starrk’s voice fell, a hint of shame coloring his tone. “I was a coward.”
 
His words hang in the air for a moment, and Ichigo didn’t dig deeper, he didn’t need to know. “There must have been something to spark this?”
 
“Nightmares,” said Starrk.
 
Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Starrk sleep in a long time, and he just chalked it up to Starrk being uncomfortable in his presence. That could still be the reason, but he knew well enough what nightmares could do. He asked, “What kind of nightmares?”
 
Starrk looked away again, though this time his attention was reflected inward. “Maybe more like dreams. Lilynette has them too. I don’t feel whole, I don’t know how to explain it to you. Lilynette has our joy, I have our despair, but we’re apart from each other. I didn’t want to be lonely, but this isn’t necessary, I’m not alone anymore.”
 
Ichigo was reminded of Hirako’s inner hollow. Somehow he had known he could “fix” him, the hollow was drawn to him. Perhaps that was what was happening here? Zangetsu seemed to agree, it was a close guess if anything.
 
Starrk asked, “Can you fix us?”
 
That question stung, You think segunda etapa is the answer.” said Ichigo. Starrk’s power was separate from him within Lillynette, he wasn’t wrong in assuming if he was made whole, he would have to accept her back into his soul. Breaking something was easy, but putting it back together again was not.
 
Starrk’s brows furrowed. “Can you not help us?”
 
Ichigo let out a heavy breath. “It’s complicated, Starrk.” He lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes through a sharp headache. He dropped his hand, looking back at his Espada. He didn’t just see his desperation, he could feel it in the air. In the same way Alteza pushed him towards balance, he could sense that Starrk was fractured, incomplete. He’d ignored it, because Starrk hadn’t asking for him to meddle. “That’s not true, it’s simple.” He felt a stab of regret. He wasn’t there for Harribel, and he was too late for Starrk. Typical.

“You cannot be everywhere at once, Ichigo. You cannot blame yourself for what others do. Starrk did this to himself.”

His Zanpakuto wasn’t wrong, but Starrk was still his responsibility. “I would need to pull you into my soul, and I don’t know if I can do that without harming you anymore.” Maybe once he got used to his own soul, but that was a long time off. He had no idea how die Konigin would react to something like that. “You sense it don’t you?”
 
Starrk’s voice was flat, some of his hope dying. “You feel different.”
 
That was an understatement, but telling him the option was off the table was faster than trying to explain. Ichigo said, “I might not be able to give you a shortcut you want, but I can help you.”
 
“How? I watched you train with Grimmjow for

months

with no results.” Starrk sounded frustrated, if he strained to hear it.
 
Ichigo stepped closer, answering, “Grimmjow is stubborn, he needed a kick in the teeth. You’re different.” He reached for his chest, his hand hovering over his heart. He didn’t need to touch him to know without a doubt that was he was about to say was true. “You’re afraid.” Starrk’s eyes widened, shame shadowing his face. Slowly, he rested his hand on his chest, studying his reaction within his soul. “That doesn’t make you a coward.”
 
Ichigo felt Lilynette through Starrk, they were one, despite their apparent differences, and she felt his attention on her just as acutely as Starrk did. “There are so many different kinds of fear. What you want isn’t unreasonable.”
 
He took a small step closer. “You know what it’s like to fear the consequences of things you don’t know how to control. Strength is a curse, a burden. You wished for something you never thought you would have. I understand, I do, don’t be ashamed of what you did.” He’d shattered his soul, and in some way, he was no better in his reliance on his inner hollow.
 
Lilynette was the living embodiment of his scars, his mistakes, and he understood now why she wasn’t here. Starrk didn’t hate her existence, far from it. She was all the good in his soul, and the parts of himself he felt he didn’t deserve.
 
Ichigo dropped his hand, but didn’t step away. “You’re not the only one with regrets. Yours laugh and keep you company, locking away a power you despise. Can you accept that back?” Starrk stared back, eyes wide. “Think about it. I can help you, but this isn’t just a switch I can flip. You have to be willing to accept all your pain and regrets. It’s not easy and it isn’t pleasant.”
 
The Espada’s desperation was just as intact as it was when he came to him, but now he was thoughtful. “Talk to your other half, you can’t do this by yourself.”
 
Starrk had nothing to say, so without preamble, Ichigo stepped through la sangre. He knew exactly who he wanted to see, with or without a headache. He put himself directly into Ulquiorra’s path. The Espada stopped, but looked as unconcerned as he expected. He accused, “You attacked Starrk.”
 
“I did.”
 
Ichigo said, “I ordered you not to kill anyone in pursuit of whatever

curiosities

you might have.”
 
Ulquiorra stared back blankly. “I had questions I wanted answered.”
 
He could threaten him all damn day, but Ulquiorra had a strange attachment to life, it wouldn’t go the way he hoped. His voice held a mocking edge, but his question was still genuine. “Did you at least find your answer?”
 
Ulquiorra was slow to respond. “Yes and no. I wanted to know if he was satisfied with his choice.” It was plain to both of them that Starrk wasn’t. Ulquiorra had clearly taken that answer to be good enough and left before any damage was done, but that could almost be luck. He had no delusions that Ulquiorra would have stopped short of killing Starrk if things had gone differently.
 
Ulquiorra took a step to the side to walk around him, but Ichigo stopped him with a hand on his chest, just over his hollow hole. He could feel the void within him just as clearly as the heart he denied. He didn’t let his sympathies cloud his tone. “That next time you’re feeling curious, remember your standing orders to

not

try to kill your fellow Espada.”
 
Ulquiorra was forced to stop, the look on his face unreadable. “If he lives, there’s no harm done.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. “That isn’t your choice to make,

primera

.” It was a verbal reminder that rank wasn’t meaningless, and he fully intended to enforce it if he had to. “Orders aren’t suggestions.”
 
Ulquiorra looked down to where his hand made contact with his chest, then flicked back up to his eyes, that bored expression suddenly sharp with interest. “So you

are

different.”
 
Ichigo had no doubt rumors had spread, likely more accurate among the Espada. “How do you know?”
 
“The Espada talk, and no one pays me any notice.” He paused, adding vaguely, “Especially the scientist.” He looked down at his hand again, and to Ichigo’s surprise, took a small step closer, murmuring, “What a strange feeling.”
 
He didn’t need to share what he meant, Ichigo could feel his reaction. Fear, uncertainty,

disquiet

. A predator acknowledging it wasn’t at the top of the food chain.
 
Ulquiorra’s eyes snapped back up to meet his own in challenge. “What have

you

done to yourself?”
 
Ichigo drew his hand back, feeling the strong urge to respond with violence. Giving in to the desire felt wrong, it was what both Alteza and die Konigin wanted, but was it what

he

wanted? He wasn’t so sure. Harming Ulquiorra as punishment was pointless, the arrancar didn’t fear pain, or defeat. That didn’t mean Ichigo wasn’t still angry his orders had been ignored. His voice was low, carefully restricted. “Do not disobey me again.”
 
Ulquiorra considered him, then blinked, looking away. “Yes, heika.”
 
The inflection of his voice wasn’t bla
sé
like before, it almost bordered on respect. Ichigo couldn’t be sure if it was feigned respect or not, but he could only hope Ulquiorra would heed his warning. “You’ll find out what’s different with the rest. Patience.”
 
“Ironic, that

you

should tell

me

to be patient.”
 
Ichigo stepped around him. “As I say, not as I do. I know all about impatience.” He didn’t care to hear an answer, he left him, stepping through la sangre to cross all of Hueco Mundo. He was angry, and he needed an outlet, so he might as well be productive about it.
 
He reached for his sword, falling out of hollowfication. The instant change in his perception was enough to make him stagger, but the silence of Hueco Mundo was stabilizing.
 
He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them, Ossan stood across from him on the sand, the short blade drawn. That he barely registered his pull on his reiatsu was both a testament to the trust he had in him, and his distraction. “I don’t mean to lean on you for help, but I need it. I don’t have time.”
 
“Such is the essence of our bond, Ichigo. I cannot blame you for the position you find yourself in. Now focus, this is not an easy skill to master.”
 
--- xxx ---

3 days later

He stepped from the garganta into Kisuke’s courtyard, looking for the most part, human. The distant roar from die Königin surged to the front of his notice, but he had expected that. He held still, getting used to the shift in his soul. Without his hollowfication to keep die Königin at bay, his senses were once again overloaded, but he wouldn’t be able to do what he intended to do in hollowfication any more than he’d be able to turn a hollow within
Vollständig.
 
Grimmjow hopped down to stand beside him, looking wary. That was to be expected, and to be fair, Grimmjow might know this place better than he had, but it was still unfamiliar territory. He’d rather have him on his guard than not.
 
Ichigo stood still, his shoulders tense as he adjusted to die Konigin’s overreach. He knew Grimmjow noticed the subtle change in his posture, and he had balls enough to reach out to touch him. He reached out for his shoulder, squeezing hard. It wasn’t a reassuring touch, that wasn’t why he’d done it it. With a grip like that, it might have brought a weaker arrancar to their knees. This was to cause pain, to stab through the clamor in his mind and pull him from it.
 
It helped, and that was why Grimmjow was there.
 
He sensed Ishida inside, not by his reiatsu, but as a Quincy through das licht. It had been a few days, and that he was still there spoke volumes about his mental and physical state. He hadn’t gone home, which could mean any number of things.

Kisuke stepped outside not a minute later, snapping his fan closed. “You’re here to see Ishida?”
 
“Yes.” Now that he’d spoken, Grimmjow took his hand away, then fisted them at his sides. If he wanted his hands free, then he must have been more nervous than he thought.
 
Kisuke turned, lifting a hand in a gesture to follow. Kisuke’s home had become something of a neutral ground, he wouldn’t feel right demanding anything of Kisuke and expecting that treatment to continue, so it was nice he was still welcome here.
 
He cast his senses out, and could tell Orihime was at school, pleased he wouldn’t have to send her away, because this wasn’t going to be pleasant.
 
Ishida was sitting on the en overlooking Kisuke’s small garden. He knew Ishida wouldn’t be able to sense him, but he could sense his fraccion, and that would be enough warning to know what was coming.
 
Ishida didn’t look back, his voice clipped. “I expected you sooner.”
 
Ichigo said, “I have more to deal with than a powerless Quincy.” Ishida flinched. He knew that struck hard, but he wasn’t here to consider his feelings. He ordered, “Go inside.”
 
Ishida bit out a retort. “I’m not your

subject

, Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo moved at a speed that was comfortable to him, but that he knew Ishida couldn’t follow. He stood before him, lifting his chin with a single finger in a gentle threat. “Then you’re mistaken. You’re Quincy, and you will

always be

a Quincy.” Ishida swallowed, but to his credit, didn’t move. “You’re my responsibility now.”
 
He drew his hand back and waited for his decision, he wasn’t in a rush.
 
Grimmjow was less patient. Only half a minute passed before he growled, “You can get up and walk inside with some dignity, or I can pick your ass up and haul you in. I guarantee you won’t like how

he

does it.”
 
Ishida ground his teeth together, eyes narrowed, and stood, heading inside. He was able to move around without much effort, but he could see it still pained him. Ichigo only insisted he move at all because he wasn’t keen on bringing the authorities down on Kisuke’s head, and there was about to be a lot of screaming.
 
The damage Ishida had done to himself by channeling his reiatsu had done more than ruin his power, it was slowly killing him. In the same way Szayel couldn’t heal the scar he’d left on his face, Ishida’s natural flow of reiatsu was scarring rather than healing. He might be angry, but he wasn’t about to watch Orihime fall apart watching him die. She couldn’t sense his reiatsu, therefore she couldn’t reject it from Ishida’s body, he knew she must feel helpless.
 
He followed after Ishida, Kisuke standing nearby to silently observe. He knew the ex captain wouldn’t intervene, but he wasn’t sure if he hovered out of curiosity or cautious assessment. It was likely a combination.
 
Ichigo jerked his head towards the trapdoor that led to the underground training area. He was trying to be reasonable, he could have completely ignored his personal comfort. “If you would.”
 
“Why?”
 
Ichigo’s shoulders fell in a frustrated sigh. “Is it not obvious? I’m going to fix you, and it’s going to be very, very unpleasant. Now

go

.”
 
From the look on Ishida’s face, it looked like the Quincy hadn’t considered that to be an option. At all. The Quincy...his friend...really had thought he was going to die. Ishida might not remember, he might not have the same memories, but Ichigo remembered, and he wasn’t so far gone he could let him die in cold blood.
 
“Ishida…” His tone was a good deal more gentle than before. He reminded himself that Ishida was just a kid, a kid with few friends, little in the way of family, and unrealistically high standards for himself. He let out a steadying breath, centering his feelings, and stepped up to Ishida. The Quincy stared at him in distress, he could feel his heart pound, he could see the pain inside him in the reishi he could no longer use.
 
Ishida made to back away, but Ichigo got a solid grip on his upper arm, not allowing him to run. He leaned in close, his voice low enough that what he said was for Ishida and Ishida alone. “I’m not angry with you because you chose the Quincy, or for taking my power. I’m angry because you were selfish. Orihime loves you, you have your whole life left, and you were so eager to throw it all away for

vengeance

.” He leaned back a touch, the look on Ishida’s face caught between self loathing and shock. “I’m giving you a second chance. Don’t throw it away.”
 
Ichigo leaned back, uncurling his hand from his arm. “Now go.”
 
Ishida didn’t argue again, and as he reached for the latch to the door, Ichigo saw his hand trembling. He climbed down the ladder, which Ichigo didn’t bother with. He appeared at the base of the ladder through la sangre, needing that short break from das licht. It was brief, but like a splash of cold water, it helped clear his head.
 
Grimmjow skipped the stairs and jumped, landing in a crouch. It was a long climb down, and Grimmjow took that moment to assess how he was. He didn’t come out and say he was concerned, but he saw it in his fraccion’s eyes. He assured him. “I’m fine.” It was mostly the truth. Grimmjow stared back, trying to decide if he was lying, then finally gave up and looked away.
 
Kisuke followed after Ishida, and once he was there, Ichigo ordered, “Lie down.”
 
Ishida finally found his voice. “Why are you doing this? For Inoue? For the Ishida

you

knew? I don’t understand.”
 
“It’s that unusual to you?” If Ishida truly thought he would callously leave him to die, then maybe he had changed more than he thought? He shook the fear away and said, “You’re partially right, but I already told you didn’t I? I’m here as a Quincy. Adaliz failed you, but you’re my responsibility now. I won’t let you die.”
 
Ishida questioned. “Your responsibility?”
 
Ichigo reached out for him, and Ishida tensed, but stayed still. He rested his fingertips on his chest, just over his heart. “I feel every heartbeat just as clearly as I can sense every other living Quincy. I see your soul, I sense das licht within you. I can’t turn my back on you any more than I could throw away my Zanpakuto.”
 
He’d been holding his emotions at bay, but touching his soul

hurt

, it made him angry, and it blinded him with the sheer magnitude of information he had to perceive. His eyes narrowed and he hissed, “She

failed

you, she used ihre Kinder als Futter,

diese Schlampe.”

Grimmjow was suddenly between them, hand on his chest to urge him back. “

Kurosaki

.” Ichigo looked past him to Ishida. The Quincy stared at him with wide eyes, but stayed completely still. “

Hey

! Look at

me

.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes snapped back to Grimmjow’s. He looked and looked and

looked

. He knew Grimmjow, he knew the lines of power that built him, that fed the darkness. He was an arrancar, he was completely devoid of her presence, of das licht.
 
His eyes started to drift past him, but Grimmjow didn’t let him. The Espada stepped close enough that he had nowhere else he could look, making sure he had his full attention. “Calm down.”
 
Ichigo snarled under his breath. “

La odio

.” His eyes drifted away from Grimmjow’s, distracted.
 
His fraccion wouldn’t be ignored, he put himself in his line of sight. “She’s dead.

Relax

.” His voice was surprisingly steady, and that got his attention because it was so unexpected. That’s right, he killed her, he drove his bled through her heart

and killer her

. So why didn’t it feel like she was gone?
 
Ichigo braced himself on Grimmjow’s shoulder, closing his eyes, shutting himself away from the power he sensed within Ishida. And focusing instead on the void within Grimmjow. He breathed, centering himself. The rush of das licht in his soul was dizzying, but he’d felt worse. A minute passed. Two.
 
Slowly, Ichigo pushed Grimmjow away, his eyes trailing back towards Ishida. The Quincy had put a few feet between them, watching him with no small amount of fear. He couldn’t blame him for that, but it only served to remind him of a past that had never happened.
 
Kisuke spoke first. “Kurosaki-san…?”
 
“I’m fine.” Ichigo’s voice sounded a bit too flat, even to him.
 
Kisuke gave him a skeptical look, and Grimmjow snapped defensively. “He told you

he’s fine.”

Grimmjow still kept between him and Ishida to be safe. This time around, it was less to protect Ishida, and more to protect him. Ichigo looked back to Ishida, giving him a look cast in regret. “I won’t hurt you.” That was true, no matter how much of a lie it seemed to be.
 
Ishida couldn’t stop staring, his voice quiet. “You have

her

eyes.”
 
Ichigo’s jaw tightened. Not liking the comparison didn’t make it any less true. He had yet to really look in a mirror, but he didn’t doubt that Ishida was right.
 
Grimmjow snapped, “You’re not helping.”
 
Ishida looked nervous, and Ichigo really couldn't blame him. He was about to do spiritual brain surgery, and he was notoriously heavy handed. He reiterated with more emphasis. “I won’t hurt you.”
 
Ishida shifted his weight, his pride likely the only thing keeping him from trying to escape. “You haven’t done much to inspire confidence.”
 
This wasn’t going well, but then, he’d expected this part to go badly. His Espada growled, “Just knock him out and do it.” Grimmjow’s patience was already stretched thin, and anxiety made him angry.
 
Ishida took a single step back, and Ichigo ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He appeared before Ishida, his palm spread before his face and focused on the Kidou. “Inemuri.” Ishida barely knew what hit him, he collapsed like his strings had been cut. He caught him before he hit the ground, laying him down.
 
“Why couldn't you do that to begin with?” barked Grimmjow.
 
He swore under his breath, straightening over the prone Quincy with a scowl. “It would have been nice to get consent.”
 
Grimmjow was incredulous. “Do you need it to save his life?”
 
“It would have been

nice

,” Ichigo stressed. “But he doesn’t really get a choice.”
 
“Might I ask, Kurosaki-san, what it is you plan to do to the young Quincy?” Kisuke asked.
 
“You fucking deaf? Grimmjow snapped.
 
Kisuke had drifted closer, a wary look in his eyes, but so far he seemed to be tolerating them both. Ichigo muttered, “It's a valid question, Grimmjow, hush.” He understood Grimmjow’s stress, the arrancar had a very solid idea of what he might need to do to talk him off the edge, he couldn’t be too hard on him.
 
He drew both swords and said, “I need to remove my reiatsu without damaging any of his own reiryoku.”
 
“Kurosaki-san…” The shinigami sounded like he was struggling to find a way to let him down gently or flat out call him an idiot.
 
“You don’t need to tell me Urahara, I’m aware; I can barely cast mid level Kidou without it blowing up in my face; I’ll kill him.” He tilted his head. “Or I

would

, if I didn’t have a massive advantage.” He raised his swords parallel to the ground even as he spoke, his voice firm. “Bankai.”
 
The surge in his reiatsu was only perceptible to him, it didn’t bother the unconscious Quincy or those around him. It condensed in a tangible way, Grimmjow taking a few cautious steps back. He could see how it raised his hackles, he was nervous, and for good reason. He’d warned him about this.
 
Ichigo lowered his sword, he hadn’t entered bankai because he expected combat; he needed the extra edge that came with it, the focus and refinement he could only obtain through bankai. He reached inward for his power, and it rose up like a tide to meet him. Zangetsu’s felt wild, chaotic, but his Quincy half was nothing like that. His blade still howled for blood, but with controlled fire.
 
He reminded Kisuke. “I might prefer my other half, but don’t forget what I am.” He leaned on the scale, he tipped the balance, and his blade bled black, the inner vein of his Zanpakuto bleaching white. He didn’t allow himself to take the reishi from his surroundings, he didn’t really need it, das licht was simply greedy. He didn’t need a catalyst to use it,

he was

the catalyst.
 
He whispered, “Vollständig.”
 
Bright, white reiatsu surged along the blade of his sword, snapping like electricity. He held it back, which was a chore and a half when he didn’t want to. Die Konigin pushed for more just as he knew it would, a hungry wolf in his soul. He’d never used Vollständig before he was its’ host, he had no idea how much influence it had over him. Probably a lot.
 
“Kurosaki?” Grimmjow’s voice cut through the noise because he was listening for it. He was only doing what he’d come to expect, what he’d asked.
 
It screamed in his soul; it was life, it was

hunger

, it was greed, but he knew hunger, he understood the void, and they were just two sides of the same coin. Die Konigin might be stronger here, but he could do this. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t do much to cut the noise. He steadied himself in the sea of power, reminding himself of the task at hand.
 
“

Kurosaki

.”
 
He murmured, “I hear you.” Despite the sheer noise in his soul, his surroundings were painfully quiet. He flipped his sword in his hand and stabbed it into the ground beside him, power arcing to his hand when he drew it away. He opened his eyes, and everything was bright,

loud

. His knee-jerk reaction was to panic, but he had prepared for this. Attempting Vollständig in Hueco Mundo was a completely different monster from the living world. Everything was aflame in currents of power die Konigin pressured him to take, to feed the fire in his own soul. Taketaketake-No.

NO.

Calm down.
 
Like most of his power, it didn’t look like much from the outside, but even without seeing it himself, he could feel die Konigin at his back, a burning, unblinking eye of pure power. He fed die Konigin only enough to sustain itself, curbing his own reiatsu into a careful hum.
 
He knew what he wanted, and he could

see

how to do it. Every scarred path in Ishida’s body stood out to him like stars in a moonless night. Fixing this was possible, and Vollständig kept him focused, despite how amplified his power had become.
 
He raised his arm, holding his palm out over Ishida and he

pulled

. He gathered the threads of his own reiatsu, unraveling them from Ishida’s own power. Even unconscious, Ishida began to scream, his back arching from the dirt in pain. Ignore it.
 
He’d knocked Ishida out on purpose, he knew this would be painful. His arrancar hadn’t had this luxury, their pain was of the soul. This was biting, physical pain, but that made it even more fleeting. Some distant part of himself...no, something else...

liked

his screams.

That’s not me, not me, not me, not meNOTMENOTME-

“Ichigo!”

He almost blinked, his attention faltering enough that he could have done irreparable damage. He swallowed, barring his mind from wandering towards more dangerous thoughts. He didn’t let his attention be drawn away again, reminding himself of the consequences of such a mistake.
 
He took all of his reiatsu, allowing Ishida’s power to breathe through his self inflicted stranglehold. He broke his power free, Ishida’s hoarse screams cut short. For a split second, he was afraid he’d killed him, but he felt his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. Alive, he was alive. Calm down.
 
He spurred Ishida’s latent blut into closing his ‘wounds’. The ley lines of his reiryoku were damaged, but he’d cut all those lines open again, allowing Ishida’s body the chance to heal them. It could take years like this, if it worked at all, but Orihime could take it from there.
 
He finally let himself blink, reaching for his sword. He gripped the hilt in a death grip, dropping out of Vollständig with a shudder. Just as Alteza latched onto his hollow form, die Konigin was loathe to let the power go.
 
He dropped out of bankai and went straight into hollowfication, sheathing his swords before he did something stupid. It helped, but it was a temporary crutch. At the very least he could see without looking straight through physical objects. His nausea gave way to a pounding headache, but the howling wouldn’t cease.
 
He didn’t know what words he heard, if they were even words at all. Between all the noise in his soul and the swell of feelings that weren’t his own.
 
He screamed, “SHUT UP!” He could barely hear himself think, it was aggravating, and as badly as he would like to vent some of that rage, it could quite literally put everyone around him at risk. He was more than overwhelmed, he was confused, he didn’t know which of these feelings were his own. If he would calm the fuck down, he could sort through them, but knowing what he

should

do and actually doing it were two very different things.
 
Rather than risk hurting someone, he ran. He locked eyes with Grimmjow, in that one look sharing everything that was wrong, that could go wrong, and his silhouette was torn away by la sangre.

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
He’d flinched when he’d shouted, but the wild look in Kurosaki’s eyes was what hit him the hardest. The one thing he was there to stop, and he’d fucked it up, he wasn’t quite good enough.
 
Kurosaki vanished through the dark as if he’d never even been there. “Fuck.” He let out a heavy breath, most of his tension draining away. Kurosaki might lean on him for help, and he’d decided that was fine, but the sudden loss of responsibility was still a weight off his shoulders. He didn’t fancy an arm through the heart again.
 
He walked up to the Quincy, frowning down at him. He didn’t feel crippled anymore, the ley lines of his power seemed to flow unhindered. At least it seemed Kurosaki had had the wherewithal to finish what he’d started.
 
Despite Kurosaki’s insistence he trusted this man, he couldn’t say the same. He kept Kisuke in his peripheral, glancing back at him when he spoke. “He’s much worse.”
 
“No...he’s the same, he’s just good at hiding it.” ‘Worse’ was all perspective. Kisuke didn’t see all the lapses he had when he wasn’t in Karakura, he didn’t see because Kurosaki didn’t want him to.
 
“What happened?” Kisuke asked. When Grimmjow didn’t immediately answer, he pressured, “I know you know.”
 
Kurosaki hadn’t exactly ordered him not to tell anyone. He didn’t take many orders to heart, but he would give one like that some real consideration. He said, “I don’t

know

, but I can guess. Alteza feeds his instinct, that has its own set of problems. Die Konigin feeds his emotion, and not all of what he feels is his own. I’ve seen something like this before, when he makes an adjuchas an arrancar. He doesn’t know what part of what he’s feeling is his.”
 
To his credit, Kisuke didn’t seem to react to that too badly. The shinigami asked, “Why did he run? Wouldn’t something familiar be a reminder?”
 
“You saw him, he was panicking. He went back to Hueco Mundo.” He paused, and when he spoke again, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Kisuke, or himself. “He’ll figure himself out...he always does.”
 
Kisuke flipped out his fan, studying Ishida for a moment, then looked away. “He did good work, he shouldn’t have been able to.”
 
“What does that mean?”
 
Kisuke answered, “Ishida’s own father didn’t know where to start. Ichigo has only been using his Quincy power for the lesser part of a year.”
 
“So what?” Grimmjow knew where he was going with this, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it.
 
“What he did was the equivalent of removing dye from water with his bare hands. It shouldn’t be possible. An echt Quincy couldn’t do it, and Orihime couldn’t either.” Kisuke paused, stepping forward to stand beside Grimmjow. The Espada took a small step to the side. Despite Kisuke’s calm aura, he made him nervous, just like Aizen had, like Kurosaki could. Kisuke asked, “Do you think he can handle it?”
 
Grimmjow didn’t like the leading questions, and he would have already left if he didn’t know Kurosaki would want him to follow through with what he couldn’t. He took another step to the side, willing the Quincy to wake up. “I’m not going to answer that.”
 
Kisuke tilted his head, crouching down to Ishida’s level to pick up his wrist, two fingers pressed close. “Kurosaki-san is a prodigy, even beyond what he was born as. It seems that even before he was host to these outer Gods, he was doing things that shouldn’t be possible. He’s too powerful for someone so young, but to throw madness into the mix...”
 
He let Ishida’s wrist go, satisfied, and stood, gesturing, and a larger man with glasses-he forgot his name-came over to pick the Quincy up. Kisuke said, “You’re with him the most, I know you can see it, things can’t go on like this.”
 
Grimmjow bared his teeth, his hand tight around Pantera before he was cognizantly aware he wanted it. He didn’t like having his loyalties torn, and he didn’t like where this conversation was going. Kisuke didn’t seem upset by his reaction, he looked like he’d expected it. “If Kurosaki-san brought you here, he recognizes this, and he has no real plan to deal with it. I’m not asking you to betray him-”
 
Grimmjow bit out. “It sure sounds like it.”
 
Kisule faced him, his eyes as sharp as Aizen’s. Something about him made him feel woefully ignorant, and that pissed him off. The shinigami said, “Acknowledging reality isn’t always easy. The reality is that Kurosaki-san’s soul isn’t his own anymore, this proves it.”
 
He might have drawn just to shut him up, but he got the sense he would lose. This wasn’t his territory, he had very little power here, despite whatever lies he might try to tell himself. “So what are you going to do about it?”
 
“Nothing,” said Kisuke, “at the moment. Kurosaki-san wants the Soul King gone, by his own motivations, or another’s, it doesn’t really matter. He has the power to do it, and I intend to help him. What happens next determines what I do.” He lifted his shoulder in a small shrug, spinning his cane in his hand in a lazy circle. “I didn’t intend to talk about this while he wasn’t present, it was a good deal more dangerous for me.” His eyes pointedly went to Pantera, but they didn’t linger there. “Kurosaki-san can read your heart, he’ll know we spoke, and I expect you’ll tell him everything. That’s convenient.”
 
Being so brazenly manipulated didn’t feel that good, and that was exactly what this man was doing. His grip tightened on Pantera, then he dropped his hand, knowing there was no point. “So why tell me and not him?”
 
Kisuke said, “You know him best, he trusts you, and you’re a part of this. I wanted to speak to you as much as Kurosaki-san.”
 
That caught Grimmjow off guard. As badly as he wanted to be at the top, he never stopped to consider what that meant. Having others look to him for orders was one thing, but to be relied on was another. He knew more than anyone what Kurosaki was dealing with, he knew it wasn’t good. He’d felt the chaos inside Kurosaki for only a moment, and he hadn’t been able to handle it.
 
No, chaos wasn’t the right word. As chaotic as it felt to him, to Kurosaki, it was loud, but balancing, wanted. Knowing that twisted his stomach in unpleasant ways. His expression fell somewhere between angry and ill, wishing there was a simple answer. Killing things only got him so far. “So what are you going to do?”
 
Kisuke said, “That depends on the outcome.”
 
He reiterated with a growl. “

What are you going to do?”

“Attempt to grant Kurosaki-san some solace.” Grimmjow recalled Zangetsu taking control,if only to give Kurosaki a break, and didn’t think he could come up with an argument against that. Kisuke tilted his head, studying him. “I won’t pretend I don’t have ulterior motives, but in regards to Kurosaki-san, I want to help. It’s that simple.”
 
Nothing was simple. “How? Not even Kurosaki knows what will help.”
 
“I’ve been doing research, it’s what I do best.” He smiled, not an altogether pleasant smile, but Grimmjow found that reassured him more than something fake. “Kurosaki-san isn’t the first host, nor will he be the last, history is there to learn from.”
 
That was the best answer he was going to get, that was clear, and Grimmjow would rather talk about anything else. He didn’t know if he should believe him or not, and lingering on the subject wasn’t going to change his mind. “The Quincy will live, right?”
 
“I’ll have his father come retrieve him.” He pantomimed a phone call and turned to stroll back to the ladder. “I’ll call Kurosaki-san when he wakes up. I trust you can see yourself out.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Urahara Kisuke
 
Kurosaki-san’s Espada eagerly left through a garganta, he couldn’t leave fast enough. The arrancar didn’t seem to like anyone but Kurosaki-san, least of all Kisuke himself. He didn’t blame the arrancar, he had good instincts. From the outside, he seemed to be a dreadful choice for what amounted to a fukutaichou. He was hot-headed, chaotic, but he’d done more just by standing there than anyone else had been able to in the past.
 
For whatever the reason, the arrancar was his tie to reality, he wa his weakness, and for someone as powerful as Kurosaki, he could never be too careful when it came to contingency plans. He could hope he never had to use them, but he’d rather have a plan than not.
 
He waited in silence for
Ryūken, watching as Ishida’s breathing grew to be more level and calm. He was leagues better than he was. He would live, he might even be back to normal once Orihime was through with him. Kurosaki had taken less than twenty minutes to repair damage that should have signed his death warrant, and he’d done a good job. The work he did didn’t line up with his personality, or even the wavelength of his reiatsu; it was strange. It was as jarring as watching Kurosaki slip seamlessly into a language he knew he didn’t know.
 
Time had passed without his notice, Tessai showing Ryūken to the room, interrupting his thoughts. He knelt at his side, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Kurosaki’s work with even more prejudice than he had. A couple of minutes passed before he asked, “Who did this?”
 
“Kurosaki-san.”
 
Ryūken’s eyes flicked up to meet his in alarm. “You’re joking.”
 
With no reiatsu traces to sense, it seemed for all intents and purposes to be causeless, but they could see the effect and determine the cause. Just because you couldn’t see the wind didn’t mean it wasn’t there, and this kind of work left races of the person who had done it, especially to someone trained to see it, like Ryūken.
 
Kisuke tapped the edge of his fan on his knee in a steady tempo. “I wouldn’t waste your time. I watched him do it.”
 
Ryūken clenched his jaw, staring back down at his son. “So he really did replace her.”
 
“You recognize it?”
 
Ryūken answered, “Adaliz worked like this. She would meddle, making her echt Quincy stronger, live longer...it looked a lot like miracles.”
 
That was very interesting, and left Kisuke to wonder how much was Adaliz’s influence over Kurosaki, and how much was die Konigin’s influence over them both. He asked, “How did you know she was dead?”
 
“I might have been excommunicated from the Quincy, but people still talk, rumors are passed around. Her death disrupted things.” The last of his words were spoken flatly, distracted. He reached up to rub his hand over his eyes, disrupting the glasses on his face. He fixed them, staring down at his son with relief Kisuke knew he’d never let him see. Stubborn, the both of them.
 
He got up to leave them be. Ryūken had been prepared to watch his son die, and it had been slowly breaking him, he’d seen it in the way he’d tied his tie. It was wrong, and the man never settled for anything less than perfect. The wrinkles in his jacket suggested he hadn’t even gone home last night. That Ishida would live put him in Kurosaki’s debt, whether any of them verbally acknowledged that or not.
 
He shut the door behind him, and true to his word to Grimmjow, went back to his research. Watching Kurosaki work was enlightening, enough that he had direction, purpose. He’d figured out how to access the Soul King days ago, he’d moved on to something far more interesting.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
Back in Las Noches, Grimmjow had no fucking idea where Kurosaki had gone. Szayel didn’t know, which meant asking anyone else was probably pointless. The scientist had had other questions, and rather than dodge them, he threatened to kill him and left. He almost missed meek Szayel, this version was almost unbearable.
 
He wasn’t worried….he had doubts, he didn’t feel he was wrong to have them. Kurosaki had left in a panic. He was lying to himself, he

was

worried.
 
Worried enough that he was feeling restless. He left Las Noches, finding himself alone on the dunes with silence so thick his ears rang.
 
He wanted to fight, to

do something

, but there was nothing. He hated being left behind, as much as he hated being kept out of the loop. He glared up at the dark, but getting angry at Alteza was as pointless as it sounded, he was left to rage at the desert alone.
 
Time passed, and a sudden shiver raced up his spine. He whirled, lashing out, and found himself face to face with Zangetsu. “Looking for King, koneko?” He let go of his wrist, the hollow looking amused that he’d startled him.
 
Grimmjow let out a heavy breath, his nerves settling. “Don’t

do

that, you’re going to give me a fucking heart attack!”
 
“I thought hollows didn’t have hearts?” Zangetsu mocked. “King doesn’t like it either.”
 
“Could’a fooled me,” Grimmjow muttered. He couldn’t even remember how many times Kurosaki had snuck up on him just to watch him jump. Although, some of his panic was curbed by relief. If the hollow had time to snark, Kurosaki had to be okay.  “Where is he?”
 
Zangetsu’s humor faded, replaced by something he couldn’t recognize. “You aren’t scared of the dark, are you?”

Grimmjow was instantly on guard, Zangetsu sounded like he was being literal, and he felt like things were either bad for Kurosaki, or they were about to get bad for him. “

Why

? What does that mean?”
 
“Tsk. So nervous.” Grimmjow didn’t get a real answer, the hollow had his hand on his chest, and la sangre swallowed them both.
 
He fell to his knees, wracked with shivers, and dry heaved. His anxiety topped with whatever the fuck the darkness was and he was more than nauseous, he was dry heaving like he’d never touched la sangre before. And it was

dark

. Really dark. He would have said he wasn’t scared of the dark, but now he was second guessing himself.
 
He couldn’t even tell how far away his hand was from his own face. He only had some semblance of up and down because his hands touched the grit of cool sand and he didn’t end up throwing up on himself. “Give me,” he gasped, “a fucking warning next time.”
 
Zangetsu made a disgusted sound, and he only knew Kurosaki was there when he spoke from beside him. “You okay?”
 
“What does it look like?”
 
“It’s the same...in theory. I didn’t know you’d puke your guts out.” He tacked on a belated apology. “Sorry.”
 
Grimmjow hacked again, breathing heavily, and sat back. “What’s wrong with walking?”
 
“Well…”
 
Walking was out?

Great

. Grimmjow couldn’t see a damn thing, and despite knowing Kurosaki was right there, he could admit, he was scared. “Where the fuck are we?”
 
Kurosaki put a hand on his shoulder, and to his embarrassment, he flinched. Light gathered in Kurosaki’s other palm in deep, subtle tones of red. Grimmjow scrambled back in sudden realization of what he was looking at. “Is that a cero?!”
 
He felt Zangetsu’s foot land flat between his shoulder blades, stopping him short. The hollow griped. “I am

not

hanging around if you fall flat in your own vomit.”
 
Kurosaki let the cero grow a bit, but held it in a calm sphere in his palm. “Calm down, you couldn’t see, right?”
 
Grimmjow swat at the hollow’s foot and struggled to stand, growling at the hollow. “Go fuck yourself.” He failed to stand, sitting back heavily on the sand instead.
 
Zangetsu gave him a bored look, barely noticeable in the low light, but like hell would he miss someone mocking him. He gave the cero a suspicious look, not altogether comfortable with lighting a

nuke

as a substitute for a flashlight. He wasn’t crazy, but he thought Kurosaki might be with the shit he pulled. “So where the fuck are we?”
 
“There’s a reason why I sent Zangetsu to get you, I didn’t want to forget this place.” He held his palm away from him, eyes narrowed in the light, no matter how dim, and Grimmjow got the sense the light was impeding his vision. “I ended up here on instinct. I wanted someplace quiet, dark.”
 
“Well you found it,” snapped Grimmjow.
 
Zangetsu had wandered to the edge of the pool of light, and Grimmjow realized this place was huge, big enough that there was no wind, but their voice didn’t echo either. A shudder ran through his shoulders, and he was suddenly loathe to turn his back on the dark. He turned and put his back to Kurosaki instead, trying his hardest not to cower, but his instincts were on edge. “Kurosaki,

where the fuck

are we? Why did you bring me here?” He didn’t mind being involved, but he honestly wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do for him. He couldn’t even see.
 
“I ran here because it was familiar...but I’ve never been here before. I needed to know this is real.”
 
Grimmjow looked up at him, and saw now that despite the ferocity of Kurosaki’s appearance, he was afraid. “What?”
 
Kurosaki crouched beside him and took his hand in his own, only to place it palm down on the sand. He held his hand there, and looked at him expectantly. Grimmjow didn’t know why he would do that, or what he was looking for. The sand was cold, but it wasn’t dry, it was almost moist with sourceless humidity. He didn’t get it, sand was sand, he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. “Kuro-“
 
“

Shh

. Listen,” Kurosaki whispered.
 
He looked down at the sand again, still unsure. The silence roared in his ears, he stared down at the red cast sand, and he froze. He felt the vibration in the ground, something large, so immense, that it could be felt in the ground itself. He wanted to deny what he felt out of sheer absurdity, but he couldn’t, he knew what it was. A heartbeat.
 
He jerked his hand away, but Kurosaki caught it, and his attention. “It isn’t beneath us.” He looked up, and while Grimmjow tracked his gaze, he saw nothing.
 
“Why am I here?” he asked. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go, to

run

, but there was nowhere to go.
 
There was a desperate edge to Kurosaki’s voice he wasn’t used to hearing. “I needed to know I wasn’t crazy. I’m not,

I’m not crazy.

You’re here, you feel it too.”
 
Grimmjow glanced to him, brows furrowed. “Why would you think you’re crazy?”
 
Ichigo glanced at him, then finally noticed their proximity and stood, letting go of his wrist. “I keep hearing things,

seeing

things Zangetsu can’t.”
 
Grimmjow shot Zangetsu a sharp look. “He hears

that

, doesn’t he?”
 
Zangetsu growled, “I hear it.” He prowled at the edge of the light, and now Grimmjow knew why; he was scared too.
 
That was unsettling in and of itself. Grimmjow looked between them, the lack of an answer making him nervous. “You never told me where we are.”
 
Zangetsu snorted, answering for him. “Because he

doesn’t know

. It doesn’t feel like anywhere.”
 
“What the fuck does that mean?”
 
Kurosaki said, “What he said; It feels like nowhere. I can sense Alteza, but I’m not sure what direction. La sangre works like it usually does, but my sense of direction is off. This isn’t Hueco Mundo.”
 
“

What

.” Grimmjow looked down at the sand again, noting a difference. This sand really was different, it was hard to tell in red light, but it might be black, and it was sharper, more painful than the quartz sand of Hueco Mundo. “Are you sure?” Even as he asked, it felt like a stupid question.
 
“There’s a desert like this is my mind, I know you saw it. When Aleza changed my soul, it changed my inner world.” It’s why I questioned if it was real. I was afraid I was inside my own mind and couldn’t tell.” He waved his hand over the sand, drawing la sangre with the movement, but the sand didn’t move with it in the way Grimmjow was used to seeing. “This isn’t a part of Alteza, I can’t touch it.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t know what to say to that. It was instinct that brought him here, but whose? Even thinking about it unsettled him, as separate as he was from it. “Why would Alteza fucking around with your soul change your mind to something that’s

not

Alteza? I don’t get it.”
 
Kurosaki said, “Neither do I.

Someone’s

memories brought me here.”
 
But not his own. The visored looked up, as shaken as Grimmjow thought he should be, given the circumstances. He ran his free hand over his face, letting out a heavy breath, and for a moment, he did nothing. Kurosaki finally turned to him, and some of the cracks in his composure were filled with purpose. “Can you handle another jump?”
 
Grimmjow didn’t look up again, and the creeping sensation he wasn’t alone only intensified. “I don’t care if I can or can’t.”
 
A guilty look crossed Kurosaki’s face. “I pulled you here with less control than if you were close by, that might be it. Or, it’s

where

I brought you. It should be better this time.”
 
Better still wasn’t good, but he did

not

want to stay there a minute longer than he had to. He wouldn’t call himself a coward, but this was absurd. His guts were still in knots and he hadn’t stopped shaking, but he’d deal. “Just do it.”
 
The cero Kurosaki held flickered and went out, and in that instant, he completely lost him. It occurred to him then that Kurosaki could

see

. How he could see, he had no fucking idea, but he didn’t like relying on him completely.
 
He flinched when he touched his shoulder, even after he’d been expecting it. He was suddenly aware of just how quiet Kurosaki really was, even when he was making no effort to be.
 
He couldn’t hear him at all, he might as well have been a ghost. The only thing that gave him away in the dark was his scent, something torn between steel and blood and sand. He smelled like a threat, but he also smelled like an ally, like someone familiar, and he didn’t scare him. No, it was what was inside him that scared him, and he wasn’t ashamed of that.
 
There was the painfully familiar nausea that accompanied la sangre, and as space twisted around him, he was once again in Hueco Mundo. He doubled over, leaning forward on his knees, and struggled through the wrongness that comprised of la sangre. He hadn’t realized just how quiet and

dark

that place was until he was someplace with moonlight and wind. It was really silent, the gentle ruffle of the breeze was proof enough he was somewhere.
 
Kurosaki apologized again, which was strange to him, he

never

apologized. He looked up at him, panting. “Why...are you apologizing?”
 
Kurosaki took a step back, regret clear in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that, that was reckless.”
 
He couldn’t help thinking about what Urahara had said, and it only made him angry. “Who else would you have brought?” Kurosaki just stared at him, and he straightened, breathless. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”
 
Kurosaki opened his mouth to speak and Grimmjow trampled over what he might have said, “You say you need me, well what good am I if I can’t be there when it fucking matters? Don’t leave me behind in the first place.”
 
Kurosaki stared at him, a bit surprised. He hesitated, then answered simply. “Okay.”
 
The silence stretched long enough that Grimmjow felt justified demanding, “Are we going to talk about what just happened?”
 
“We already did. You know as much as I do.”
 
That was frustrating, so he couldn’t imagine how Kurosaki felt. Grimmjow hadn’t noticed in his misery, but Zangetsu was still lurking around, hovering like a mother hen. He only did that when Kurosaki was in distress, he was as good as alarm bells. Kurosaki merely looked distracted, thoughtful. Eventually he noticed Grimmjow staring, and he tried to vocalize those thoughts. “I know it isn’t your strong suit, but would you be willing to listen?”
 
Grimmjow just looked at him, waiting to see if he would elaborate.
 
The visored sat down in the sand, legs crossed. Whether or not Grimmjow agreed, he didn’t look like he was going anywhere for awhile, so Grimmjow sat too. His legs still weren’t feeling steady anyways.

Excuses

.
 
Kurosaki said, “Because I need to tell

someone

.” He flexed his claws, his eyes lazily tracing a razor’s edge. “I’m losing myself. You talked to Kisuke, don’t pretend you don’t know.” He didn’t sound accusatory, only tired.
 
Grimmjow wasn’t sure when Kurosaki had noticed, then he remembered that he’d touched his hand, and he’d held contact for at least a minute. Plenty of time. “Shit.” He glanced over at Zangetsu, the hollow flexing and unflexing his hands like he wanted to draw his sword. He didn’t, and despite the fact he never looked in their direction, he knew he was listening. Intently.
 
“What do you wanna say?” asked Grimmjow.
 
“Everything…”
 
He knew Kurosaki was unhappy about this, that he’d let things get so bad wasn’t reassuring. “Fine, talk. I’m not going anywhere for awhile.” He could save his pride if he tried, his tone was flippant, but he meant it. If listening helped, so be it.
 
Kurosaki’s eyes drifted, but they never settled on Grimmjow. He was uneasy, uncomfortable, and that he’d asked at all only proved he was desperate. He started slowly, carefully. “Back when Aizen first betrayed Soul Society, when I first used found this form, I nearly killed Ishida…”
 
--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading!

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

Previous timeline

“

Ryoka boy

,” Aizen purred. Always so chastising. “I thought I taught you better than this?” Ichigo hated that, he talked like he was a student, or a friendly acquaintance. He had no illusions as to what he was to Aizen; An interesting experiment, a toy, a

plaything

.
 
Ichigo struggled to stand, blood matting his hair and warming his skin as it dropped from his chin to the sand. His eyes narrowed, watching Aizen saunter closer with barely restrained hate. He screamed at his body to move, but it was all he could do to stand up straight. He blinked through a sudden rush of dizziness, and he found Aizen’s hand around his throat, lifting him from the ground in a crushing grip. He coughed, gripping Zangetsu tighter. He’d never wanted to cut someone so badly, to watch them bleed and

suffer and die

. He hated him, he hated him with every fiber of his being.
 
Rather than attempt in vain to free his hand from his throat, he swung his sword for his side. It stopped short on his ribs, his reiatsu too depleted to be a threat. Aizen chuckled, like this was an amusing game. “You should know better by now. I know you have a working brain, you didn’t do half bad in class, did you?”
 
God.

School

, Yuzu, Karin, his friends, Karakura. All of it was gone. Gone, gone gone gone,
dead
, for what.

A key.

A goddamned key...and the motherfucker didn’t even use it. Was was the point? To rub it in his face? To gloat? He just didn’t fucking know. “

Bastard

.”
 
Aizen squeezed tighter, and rather than do nothing and be suffocated, he did the next best thing. He charged a cero between his horns, his blood fueling his attack and piling on power. Red light swarmed in his vision even as black creeped in around the edges. Light flickered over the hollow white of Aizen’s face, so far removed from anything that could be called human. Bare, skeletal teeth stretched his mouth into a mockery of a smile, amusement dancing in sharklike eyes. “That’s the spirit.”
 
He fired his cero point blank into his face, the rebound searing his own skin down to the bone. It

hurt

, and then it didn’t, his nerves burned away by his own attack. He felt his high speed regeneration struggle to stabilize the damage, itching as muscle and flesh rebuilt over his chest and face. Through it all, Aizen’s hand never loosened around his throat. He looked untouched, a patronizing smile on his face. “It was a good try, don’t be too disappointed.”
 
Contradictory to the saccharine layers in his voice, he threw him to the ground with enough strength to knock the wind from his lungs. He wrenched Zangetsu from his hand as he fought for air, Aizen’s own Zanpakuto long since consumed by the hogyoku. He drove the blade through his shoulder to pin him in place, gritting his teeth through a cry of pain. Aizen loved the drama of a sword, of something flashy. This wasn’t new to Ichigo, but it was no less humiliating.
 
Zangetsu raged, the steel of his blade humming with it, but it didn’t change reality. He’d lost. Again. He’d lost and Aizen wasn’t done

taking from him

.
 
Aizen turned away, musing, “Who should your failure cost you this time, ryoka? The healer woman? What’s her name?”
 
A sliver of ice wedged itself in his heart. “No!” He grasped at the blade of his sword, but he was just so tired, all he managed to do was cut open his own hand.
 
Aizen canted his head, as if listening to something. Maybe the crazy bastard really did hear something, he swore the Hogyoku had a will of its own, but Ichigo just thought he was insane. Aizen mused, “Noooo, that’s hardly fair. The punishment should be fitting, don’t you think?”
 
The monster disappeared from his sight, but he knew,

he knew

who he was going to kill, and it made him sick to know he was

relieved

. Orihime would live. He had no right to feel relief, but the feeling was still his, and he couldn’t squash it.
 
His vision blurred, hovering at the brink of consciousness, but he could see the shinigami he dragged back clearly enough.

Mari

. He remembered her name. She was just out of the academy, she shouldn’t even be here, she should be performing konsu, patrolling a quiet street, wishing she was a seated officer. Instead she was just another sacrifice to his failures.
 
She screamed like a wounded rabbit, and his guts twisted in dread. He failed,

he failed

; he told her she would be safe.

Liar

.
 
Those screams were cut abruptly short, hot blood burning his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face away. Aizen mocked, “Can’t face your mistakes?

You

did this, her blood is on your hands.”
 
He dropped her, dead weight on his chest, and he stared in horror. He saw the judgement in her eyes, glassy and wild as her life drained away. Her blood soaked through his kosode, hot and sticky on his skin. He heard Aizen speak, but he didn’t comprehend the words.
 
He panicked, breathing hard and fast, and couldn’t find the resolve to push her away. She just kept

looking

at him. She looked and

looked

, like a doll, her eyes bore into him. They were the color of caramel, like Yuzu’s. God,

Yuzu

.
 
Suddenly her weight vanished, as did those eyes. He was startled to find his hollow staring right back down at him, amber eyes burning against black with rage and pain. Zangetsu pulled the blade in his chest free, the sucking noise as it was torn out leaving him breathless. He felt the sting of his regeneration, his vision blurring as Zangetsu crouched down to his level. His words struck his mind as sharply as the pain.

“This is

not

your fault.”

Wasn’t it though? He wasn’t strong enough, it was the one thing he should have been able to do, and he kept failing. He struggled to stay conscious, but he was fighting a losing battle. He felt Zangetsus fingers smearing blood off of his jaw, his or Mari’s, he wasn’t sure. “Sleep, King.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
Sometime after Kurosaki started talking, Zangetsu disappeared, and they were left sitting alone. Kurosaki talked and talked and talked, about every missed opportunity, every scar, and every disappointing failure. He finally started to understand his problem with Aizen, why he couldn't let him go, even after he was dead and gone. Aizen might have manipulated Grimmjow into becoming an arrancar, but it didn’t stretch as far as the insanity Kurosaki described.
 
He’d thought the Gods were what pushed Kurosaki to his breaking point, but that was laughable. It was

Aizen

, the Gods just dragged it out where it couldn’t be ignored.
 
It explained why Kurosaki didn’t act like the human kid he was supposed to be. He acted more like an arrancar than he should, albeit one with some semblance of morals, and now he knew why. He was born and bred for war, he knew the cost of survival better than any shinigami ever could.
 
He asked a question he knew Kurosaki had to have considered. “He hounded you for years, he made you into something that could kill him. Why would he do that?”
 
“Why…” A burst of hysterical laughter escaped before Kurosaki could clamp down on it. “I asked myself that every day for a decade.” He ran his hand over his face, shaking his head in disgust. “He was lonely. Bitter, sadistic, and lonely.”
 
Grimmjow considered that, slightly doubtful. “I don’t think a hug or a good fuck would have fixed that bastard.”
 
Kurosaki let out a halfhearted snort of amusement. “Not that kind of loneliness.” He looked away, his eyes scanning the dunes. “I’m sure Alteza had a hand in influencing him, but that kind of conviction doesn’t come from nowhere.” He looked back at Grimmjow, Pantera. “You know, I used to deny that I liked it. The fight, the thrill, the violence.”
 
Clearly not anymore, the most hollow thing about him was his desire to fight, he’d never seen him happier. Whether or not that was a positive thing, he almost couldn’t care less; he liked to fight him, no matter if it usually ended with more of his blood out than in.
 
Kurosaki looked back at him and continued, “Aizen was right. I understand the craving for a challenge. It feels good to win, but only when you’ve earned it. Not to be a prick, I enjoy sparring with you, but I miss the threat. The soutaichou comes close, but he’s no Aizen. It’s lonely.”
 
Grimmjow couldn’t comment on that. He had no idea what it would feel like to reach his goal, to climb to the top. Then what? He liked to fight, to win, but the threat of failure was what made it fun. As frustrating as it was to never put a mark on the visored, when he did and it wasn’t earned, it felt

cheap

. “Fine,” he admitted, “so why didn’t Aizen have to deal with all this shit, why you?”
 
“Who says he didn’t? He went through…” He stopped, his throat tightening, but he carried on as if he hadn’t. “He went to all that shit to kill the Soul King and he didn’t do it. He sat on his hands for a decade, and I finally understand why. I could guess, but now I

know

. He was a host too. He wasn’t a visored, only a shinigami, so Alteza turned him completely into a hollow. He rattled off all sorts of nonsense about being more evolved, but he knew that wasn’t true, I think he hated it.”
 
Kurosaki clenched his hand into a fist, a flash of rage tightening his shoulders. “He had the King’s Key

in his fucking hand

, then realized what would happen if he actually went through with it, he understood that the desire wasn’t his own.”
 
Grimmjow frowned, carrying over those implications to Kurosaki. “Are you saying Alteza is pressuring you to kill the Soul King?”
 
A flicker of unease passed over Kurosaki’s face, but he hid it well. “And die Konigin. Both of them want it.” He spoke faster, quieter, with an insistence that made Grimmjow nervous. “They

want

it. It’s greed as the purest vice you’ve ever felt. Ignoring it would be...

difficult

.”
 
If some monster was trying to get him to do something, he’d fight like hell to dig in his heels and do the opposite just out of spite. It sounded like Kurosaki’s nature was to do the same, but he was going against his instincts. Grimmjow asked, “You think Aizen was right to ignore it?”
 
Kurosaki gave a slight shake of his head. “No, didn’t say that...I think he was a selfish coward. The Soul King has to die, but he knew it would crush whatever individuality he had left. Back then, I didn’t recognize it for what it was, I thought he was slowly going mad. It seems like that was only partly the truth.”
 
Grimmjow was reminded of what Kisuke said to him, his gut twisting into uncomfortable knots. Like hell did he want to watch Kurosaki crumble like this, it was pathetic. He said, “Urahara said he was working on fixing this.” He was paraphrasing, but what else could he say?
 
Kurosaki sighed. “Of course he is, he just can’t help himself.”
 
“You don’t want him to?”
 
“Didn’t say that. It feels weird to rely on people.” Grimmjow couldn’t argue with that, he didn’t like it either. Letting Kurosaki handle all this felt uncomfortably like he was fighting his battles for him.
 
Kurosaki pushed himself to his feet, reaching down a hand to Grimmjow. He stared at the offer, well aware by then that Kurosaki wasn’t doing it to patronize him. He begrudgingly accepted it, and the unspoken apology for warping him to nowhere that went along with it. They must have talked for hours, and Kurosaki

seemed

less mad...
 
Kurosaki’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “No, I don’t feel better, but it was nice to be distracted.” Grimmjow didn’t say anything, but Kurosaki had read his heart in that brief contact.
 
Grimmjow glared at him. “It’s creepy when you do that.”
 
“Sorry, I don’t know how to turn it off.” His expression looked apologetic, he was being sincere.
 
That was a new admission, and it explained why he’d actually taken his and Harribel’s advice to avoid arrancar. He wasn’t actually taking their advice, he was avoiding them for his own reasons. He scoffed, incredulous. “Good to know you take my advice so highly.”
 
Kurosaki frowned. “I do, I wasn’t being facetious.” His frown deepened, his eyes flicking to the space between them, as if finally noticing they were within arm’s reach of each other. He didn’t back up, and neither did Grimmjow, it felt cowardly, no matter that they weren’t currently trying to kill each other.
 
Grimmjow wasn’t sure what sidetracked him, or what compelled him to ask in the first place, but the words were out before he could stop them. “How did I die? You never told me.”
 
Kurosaki was the first to break eye contact, his breath escaping in a heavy sigh. “It never happened though, did it? Why do you want to know?”
 
“That’s

my

business. Tell me.”
 
Maybe it was leftover guilt from reading his heart, or putting his guts through a metaphysical grinder, but Kurosaki actually told him. “I don’t really know, I wasn’t there.” His eyes drifted, settling over his heart in a way that made Grimmjow feel like he wasn’t really looking at him. “I didn’t really know you. I’d fought you, I understood what you were about, but I didn’t

know

you. It bothered me more than I thought it would...”
 
“If it didn’t even happen, why are you pussyfooting around?

Fucking say it.”

Kurosaki swayed back, but held his ground, his eyes flicking back up to meet his. “I said it before, you died like a dog. He killed you with your own sword, stabbed you in the back.” He lifted his thumb to his own chest, hovering just over his hollow hole, where his sternum would be. Grimmjow felt a phantom flicker of pain, but he resisted the urge to touch his own chest. “I found you facedown in a puddle of blood. He missed your heart on purpose, probably nicked your spine.” He added redundantly. “There was a lot of blood.”
 
So he’d died slow and pathetic, he hadn’t even gotten to go down fighting. Even if it didn’t happen, there was no chance of it ever happening now, it made him feel slighted.
 
Disgust clouded Kurosaki’s face, despite his efforts to hide it. He had, for the most part, only stated facts, but that ended quickly. “You may have been my enemy, but I respected you. It wasn’t as if you were loyal to Aizen, you weren’t loyal to anyone but yourself...it was interesting...and such a waste.”
 
Kurosaki sounded regretful, like he wasn’t alive, and when his eyes snapped back to his own, he thought Kurosaki might have been fearful he wasn’t. There was more he wasn’t saying, but Grimmjow was surprised he’d dragged this much out of him.
 
He remembered fighting Kurosaki for the first time. He’d been fucking angry in the moment, it was a bit of a blur, but Kurosaki had been happy to see him, he’d been playful even, and he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t made the connection. Playful for Kurosaki anyways, he only broke him a little.
 
He rarely ever saw him smile, but in that first fight, he’d hardly done anything else. He didn’t often review the past, or his failures, but the comparison was striking. “You really did miss me, didn’t you?”
 
Kurosaki followed his train of thought easily enough, but he actually admitted it. “Yeah, I did.” Anger sparked in his eyes, and he took a small step back from him, once again realizing how close he was standing. “Aizen manipulated everything, he knew fighting you would force me to accept I loved to fight, and I do, I still love it.“ He lifted a shoulder in a shrug like he didn’t care, but his eyes were haunted. “Then he got rid of you when you weren’t useful to him anymore.
 
“When Aizen killed you, he crushed the last bit of joy I had left for fighting. If I wasn’t so hellbent on revenge, maybe...” He didn’t finish that sentence, but Grimmjow thought he knew what might have followed. Aizen was a manipulative sonofabitch, but he hadn’t been the center of his focus. Kurosaki blinked, realizing he’d stopped talking, and looked back at him. “But that didn’t happen, you’re not dead.”
 
That was fucked up, for both of them. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “Selfish fucker, did you try to make me stronger to

entertain

yourself?”
 
Kurosaki didn’t shy away from that judgement. “Do you want me to lie and say I

didn’t

enjoy myself? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”
 
Grimmjow ground his teeth, because he knew he was right, irritating fuckhead. Except he would have been far less patient and had far less restraint. From the scars criss crossing Kurosaki’s body, from a time he would never remember, that assessment wasn’t far from the mark.
 
“Fine, you win,” Grimmjow growled.
 
“I didn’t know it was a game,” Kurosaki said.
 
He said it so seriously, Grimmjow had to look back at him to realize he was joking. Weird fucker. “Could have fooled me. What is it, double points if you don’t accidentally knock me out?”
 
Kurosaki looked like he actually took insult with that. “That only happened once.”
 
That the gap between them was still so large stung, but it was quickly becoming a part of his reality. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m real impressed.” He was, but that was beside the point.
 
Kurosaki bit back an insult, likely in an attempt to salvage his pride. He was used to that as much as the propensity to beat the ever loving fuck out of him when they sparred.
 
Instead, Kurosaki waved a hand in a vague direction, abruptly changing the subject. “You should go back.”
 
Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, not sold on Kurosaki being fine, especially not when he ran away from him. He asked, “Where are

you

going?”
 
Kurosaki rolled his eyes, clearly finding the question to be overbearing, and attempting to undermine the seriousness of the question. “Doesn’t matter.”
 
“Don’t give me that shit, I have no way to find you without a goddamned tracker.” He knew Kisuke gave him a new phone, but Kurosaki hadn’t given Szayel a chance to tag it, he just wouldn’t stop moving.
 
Kurosaki tilted his head, the shock of remembering that simple fact genuine. “Oh yeah. Then I’ll meet you in Las Noches in a couple of hours.” He paused, brows furrowing. “Have you slept?”
 
Grimmjow snorted. “

No

.”
 
Kurosaki took out his phone staring down at a glowing screen. “Fine, six hours.”
 
“Do I get a-” and he was gone, la sangre dancing across the sand where he’d been standing. “...say.”

Motherfucker

.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
He hadn’t really intended on leaving Grimmjow alone in the desert, especially after dragging him through hell because he was

scared

.

“A little more than scared, King. More like losing touch with reality.”

He wanted to argue with that, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t been okay, and he was

still

struggling. He was better at hiding it, but he was falling apart. He tried not to be negative, but dumping his life story on Grimmjow like he was on his deathbed and not feeling much better for it was pretty fucking negative.
 
He started to laugh, tears streaking his face, and let his head fall back, eyes closed. Of all the memories he’d held, the one he’d pushed down the hardest came back to him now, of all times. He’d dropped out of his hollow form, just to feel something close to normal. His laughter degraded, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
 
This hadn’t started with Rukia, or Soul Society, or Hueco Mundo. It had started in the rain. Rain that didn’t fall anymore.
 
“King.”
 
Ichigo dropped his head, staring across at Zangetsu, eyes blurred and wet.
 
Zangetsu said, “This is all you.”
 
He could have been a smartass and said he didn’t need clarification on his own fucking feelings, but he did. This pain was his, and he wasn’t going to force himself to ignore it. Not right then.
 
Recalling a past he wanted nothing more than to forget had reminded him of things he hadn’t taken notice of before. Beyond Aizen, he realized his trust hadn’t ever extended to his friends. He loved them like they were his family; In Ishida’s case, he could even argue they were distant family. And that was the problem. He wouldn’t drag them down, he couldn’t.
 
He asked, “Is it pathetic, that the one person I trust inside and out, is that blue fuckhead?”
 
Zangetsu snorted, but it wasn’t as mocking as usual. “It was inevitable.”
 
And it was, wasn’t it? He pushed everyone away, but he just couldn’t do that anymore.
 
Ichigo drew in a long, shaking breath. “I need to talk to Kisuke.” Zangetsu gave him a doubtful look, and he could do nothing to assure him. He couldn’t lie to Zangetsu, it just wasn’t possible, but he wouldn’t want to. He had his back in ways he couldn’t have ever hoped for. It made him feel pathetic that he needed to, but Zangetsu seemed like he’d gotten over it.
 
Less than five minutes in that dark purgatory and Zangetsu insisted he go bring back Grimmjow. Neither of them had been able to tell if any of it was real or not. Normally, Zangetsu couldn’t sense what Ichigo felt inside la sangre, but whatever it was, Zangetsu equated it to Alteza’s presence inside his soul, distinguishing one from the other was nearly impossible.
 
Ichigo hadn’t told Grimmjow everything. He was used to Alteza’s whispering, but this was different. It wasn’t words or speech in any way he could identify, it was an existence so large it pressed in on all of his senses, refusing to be ignored, yet too infinite to understand. His closest comparison was putting his hand through the edge of the world. It was almost exactly the same, yet this wasn’t something he could touch and withdraw from, that quiet place was held within that.
 
Rather than fall prey to despair and the past, he wanted to move forward, he wanted to

do

something. He needed help.

--- xxx ---
 
Urahara Kisuke
 
One thing Kisuke was not expecting was for Kurosaki to come back so soon. Yoruichi hopped up onto his shoulder, warning him his orange haired accomplice was out front. As irritating as it was to have to work around Kurosaki’s schedule and whims, he was far better at adapting to changes in his plans than Kurosaki would have been.
 
He was a busy man, they both were, but Kurosaki couldn’t plan his way out of a wet paper bag. Combat genius, sure. Tactician? Not so much. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart, he just wasn’t motivated to do it, and when he had enough power to crush most captains with his bare hands, Kisuke couldn’t blame him.
 
He met him in the front, the visored in his hollow form, as he’d come to expect. Working with Szayel, the scientist talked a lot about him, enough that he’d begun to make conjectures about how different from an arrancar Kurosaki really was. He didn’t like Szayel any more than Mayuri, but he had to admit he shared the arrancar’s naked curiosity when it came to Kurosaki.
 
The visored had the look of someone hunted, and seeing that look on someone as powerful as Kurosaki put him on guard. He could have buried it, hidden his distress from sight, and that he hadn’t was telling. “Kurosaki-san?” That he lingered so far from the house only told him he didn’t intend to stay.
 
Kurosaki spoke, his voice rough, but flat, betraying none of the emotion he saw clearly on his face. “I can tell you, or I can show you. What will it be?”
 
Kisuke hesitated, watching him with sharp eyes.
 
If Kurosaki was offended by his lack of trust, he certainly couldn’t see it. He said, “I’m asking you as el
corazón
de Alteza, as Kurosaki Ichigo. The two aren’t separate anymore.”
 
He sounded resigned, but acceptant of that fact, and Kisuke reminded himself that if Kurosaki were going to kill him, he wouldn’t beat around the bush, he’d just do it and be done with it. His fear wasn’t of his strength, never power. It was of the unknown thing curled around his soul.
 
It unnerved him as the Hogyoku once had, before he even knew what it was he had discovered. It rattled him to have his very perception of reality challenged, but he never was one to turn down an opportunity. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “And what does a king want with a humble shopkeeper?” He was only being a little bit facetious, he really did want to know.
 
Yellow eyes fixed him with a piercing, unblinking stare. It made him nervous, the visored always did. He didn’t think he did it on purpose, so little of him was human those days. It was in his posture, the set of his shoulders, the loose readiness of his muscles. He was like a starved wolf, strange for someone with so much power, but he hadn’t started that way. He was distrusting in the way of abused animals and children, it was a little sad, but he couldn’t blame him for it. Soul Society had done this to him, as much as he could blame himself and Aizen.
 
Kurosaki’s answer was slow, careful. “You’re the best, Kisuke. Who else do I have?” He scoffed, deep-seated derision dripping from his voice. “Mayuri? Szayel?”
 
Kisuke knew he was. He wasn’t conceited over it, he only knew it was true. He said, “I spoke to your fraccion.”
 
The visored looked away, eyes roaming over his Kidou defenses so casually Kisuke stiffened. They weren’t supposed to be visible, but he looked directly at them. Kurosaki’s answer was distracted. “I know.”
 
Dangerous. No matter how many times he stood near him, he felt it crawl over his skin. If he wasn’t Isshin’s son, he might be less inclined to help him, but he tried to look past the monstrous power.
 
Kurosaki held out a clawed hand to him, palm up, letting him be the one to choose. “This isn’t someplace I can go using a garganta. It’s la sangre, or not at all.”
 
He had no idea what the consequences of that would be, being of something not born from darkness. He looked to the offered hand, and considered the consequences of declining. Kurosaki was like gravity, nothing could escape him, and he pulled people in whether they wanted to be there or not. What he did affected more than just himself, and his conquered ruin of a city. He affected the balance of everything, everyone, this decision didn’t just involve the two of them, standing there in his driveway, in a gigai he’d imposed on himself all those years ago.
 
Curiosity and obligation won out, and he took his hand in his own. He was surprised by how fever hot his hands were. He had no scientific reason as to why he thought they might be cold, but it was still startling. “Show me.”
 
Algid darkness crawled over his skin and into his vision, sinking deeper still into his soul, his reiryoku, his thoughts, and turned him inside out. It lasted no longer than an instant, but the effect was immediate. He fell to his knees, vomiting up what felt like his stomach and all of his intestines. His insides quivered in disgust of something he couldn’t even fathom.
 
It took a long moment before he could breath long enough to understand where he was and why it was so dark. He couldn’t sense Kurosaki, he wasn’t even sure if he was still there. As if reading the reason for his fear, Kurosaki answered the unspoken question. “I’m here, Kisuke. Are you okay?”
 
“Give me another minute.” He couldn’t heal this time of trauma with Kidou, he just had to take it and wait. He let out a breathy chuckle, recalling the caution Grimmjow showed the visored, despite his unwavering trust. He straightened, brushing the sand from his palms. “Where are we?”
 
“I was hoping you might know.” Red light flared, underlighting Kurosaki in a sinister glow. It caught the curve of his horns and turned his hair into liquid flame. It was intimidating, not that he would let himself be influenced by that.
 
Kisuke’s eyes shifted to the source of the light and widened. “Is that a-”
 
“Cero? Yes.” The effect was ruined when Kurosaki rolled his eyes like the teenager he should still be.
 
He trusted Kurosaki’s skill, but it still made him uneasy. “You know, I have a few Kidou-”
 
“

No

.” His tone eased a bit as he explained, “I don’t want you drawing any attention to yourself.”
 
He was about to ask why, when Kurosaki kept going. “I know you just went to all the trouble to stand up and not continue throwing up, but I need you to touch the ground. Listen.”
 
Kisuke didn’t ask why, he only did what he asked, his curiosity doubling. He half crouched, half collapsed, and it only took him three seconds of ear shattering silence to feel the buzz in the air, the ground trembling beneath his hand. He suddenly felt very, very small. “Kurosaki-san...what is that?”
 
“I don’t know.” He explained, “I brought myself here on instinct when I left. I don’t know where I am, I just feel that I’ve been here before. This isn’t Hueco Mundo, this doesn’t feel like anywhere.” He explained the difference in the air, the lack of la sangre, and the sand. If he hadn’t said something, he might not have noticed. In the dark, it was hard to tell what was so different about it, but now that he had mentioned it, he noticed. What caught him off guard, was his comparison to the desert in his inner world. Kurosaki paused mid sentence at the look on his face.
 
“Urahara?”
 
He took off his hat, placing a good handful of sand into it, and said urgently, “Take me back, I know what this place is.”
 
Kurosaki looked startled, but he didn’t argue with him. The cero went out, darkness pressing in around him. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t scared, he was. It was a primal sort of fear he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He felt Kurosaki’s hand on his shoulder as warning, and the darkness ripped him apart.
 
The sudden brightness struck him like knives, his legs folding under him without his say so. He had nothing left to throw up, but he dry heaved for a good minute or so. Yoruichi’s voice got his attention, the threat in it enough to force him to pay attention. “What did you do to him?”
 
Kisuke looked up, his eyes still not fully adjusted to the sunlight, but he saw the bleary outline of a very naked Yoruichi, white reiatsu snapping around her arm. It was a bit touching that she thought so highly of him, and his angle on the ground gave him a perfect view of the curve of her ass. If he didn’t feel like he was about to throw up all his internal organs, he might have actually enjoyed it. Kurosaki stood there holding his hat and watching Yoruichi with a flustered look on his face. It was all rather ridiculous.
 
“Maaa, Yoruichi-san, it’s lovely as always to have you defend my honor, but he did nothing I didn’t ask him to do. If you want to help, you can give me a hand up.”
 
She glared at Kurosaki, then down at him, reiatsu finally sparking out. She gave him the hand up, and didn’t even give him shit for it. She must have actually been worried, especially with the way she kept herself firmly between him and the visored. She demanded, “So then what did he do to you?”
 
Kisuke leaned on her shoulder for stability and sighed. “Travel doesn’t agree with me.”
 
“Kisuke.” Kurosaki’s voice held a demand within it, prodding for some kind of explanation.
 
They were within his Kidou barriers, their conversation should be safe enough. Kisuke said, “That was Alteza. The real one.”
 
Kurosaki stared at him blankly, but he didn’t even breathe. He had the visored’s full attention now. “How do you know that?”
 
“

I read,

Kurosaki-san.” He attempted to stand on his own, and it didn’t go well, so he kept leaning on Yoruichi. It made him feel like an old man, but hells, he felt awful. Mind over matter only carried you so far. “Despite whatever protests you may have, Alteza is a part of you as a host. Calling you its child isn’t right, you’re a demigod made avatar for something that shouldn’t even exist. When you fled, you went someplace that felt safe to you, didn’t you?”
 
He didn’t mean for what he said next to come off an insult, but once he said it, he couldn’t help but make the connection. “Kurosaki, that place could only feel safe to someone of the same blood and mind.”
 
Kurosaki sucked in a breath like he’d been struck, and Kisuke felt a touch of guilt. He didn’t regret telling him the truth, but the consequences of it were always regrettable.
 
Kurosaki swallowed and asked, “What does that mean, the

real

Alteza?”
 
Reaching up for his head, he steadied himself against a wave of nausea, and spoke slowly. “I have a very, very good reason to believe that the entity you’ve been in contact with is only a shadow of a God. Both of them. The impression of the hosts before you is too strong, it’s not supposed to be that way.”
 
Kurosaki started, “You mean-”
 
“The influence your feeling, this madness, it might go away if the Gods wake up.”
 
Hope flashed across Kurosaki’s face, followed rapidly by doubt and uncertainty. “

Might

.”
 
“Where you took me proves it, the Gods aren’t awake, they’re trapped in a slumber and I don’t know why.” Kurosaki’s expression fell, and he amended his statement. “Yet.”
 
He pushed himself upright, removing his arm from Yoruichi’s shoulder. “Give me some time.”
 
Kurosaki blinked, burying his emotions before he could analyze them. His eyes flicked to Yoruichi’s breasts, then rapidly away. “Put some goddamned clothes on.”
 
Yoruichi put her hands on her hips, a sly smile stretching her face. “The king of Hueco Mundo has never seen titties before?”
 
He rolled his eyes, shoving the sand filled hat into her arms. “I’m leaving.”
 
She almost dumped it, but after a panicked sound of urgency from Kisuke, she stopped, brows shooting up. He took his hat back carefully, and before Kurosaki could leave, he stopped him. “

Kurosaki

.” His tone was serious, immediately drawing his attention. “When are you going to kill the Soul King?”
 
Ichigo took one glance at the sun, and answered succinctly. “Tomorrow.” He didn’t ask if he was ready to do it. He couldn’t access the realm of the Soul King without killing a lot of people, or getting his help. For some reason, he didn’t seem to doubt that he would help him.
 
Kurosaki shifted to leave, but hesitated. “Kisuke...why are you helping me?” He put emphasis on the ‘you’, which meant he’d figured out Grimmjow, the arrancar, his family, but not him. He was the wild card, and it made Kurosaki nervous.
 
He could brush him off, but Kurosaki was skeptical of everyone, he would assume the worst. He wasn’t used to laying his plans bare, but he could try to reassure him. “Kurosaki, you’re not just a high schooler or a substitute shinigami anymore. When you act, the world takes notice. I live in this world too, and I’d like it to stay in one piece.” He paused, searching him for a reaction.
 
Kurosaki blinked, then looked away. It seemed like the hybrid accepted that answer, although he wasn’t sure if he believed it. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Thanks, Kisuke.”
 
In a rush of darkness, the visored was gone.
 
Yoruichi looked to him, a brow raised in question. Once she had determined Kurosaki wasn’t a threat, she had relaxed almost instantly. She never was the type to bear a grudge. Kisuke sighed and said, “Let’s go inside, I feel like death warmed over.”

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
True to his word, a few hours from when he’d vanished, Kurosaki’s reiatsu sprung up again, an invitation if he’d ever felt it. It might have been odd to him that he didn’t just appear behind him and give him a heart attack, but he knew Kurosaki was feeling a bit guilty. That he hadn’t just sprung this on him meant he was trying to give him a choice.
 
Well, he chose to not ignore him, he wanted to be a part of this, no matter how pointless his presence might be.
 
From down the hall, he heard Kurosaki whistling a slow tune, a pleasant sounding song made somber by a dip in the pitch of a spattering of notes. His voice echoed off high ceilings, looping back to the first note to start again.
 
Grimmjow crossed over to him, the sound itself not unpleasant, but the context was eerie. He asked, “Do you have to do that?”
 
Kurosaki paused, that final note lingering in the air for a sluggish moment. “It’s been stuck in my head.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t really give a damn about the creepy shit Kurosaki did, but he could see the visored drifting deeper into his own head...or the mind of something else, and that was never good. He asked, “What song is it?”
 
The whistling stopped, and Kurosaki tilted his head as if only now considering it. “Dunno. I’ve never heard it before.”
 
He looked confused, and rather than let him linger on it, Grimmjow changed the subject. “Are we going?”
 
“Ah,” he confirmed. He gave him a roll of his arm, gesturing to the space ahead of them. “After you.”
 
A gartanta then. Thank fuck. He opened a way, and he went first, Kurosaki whistling that damn song again. “Stop,” Grimmjow snapped.
 
To his shock, Kurosaki did, head tilted to the side in thought. He didn’t seem to realize he’d been doing it at all, so Grimmjow changed the subject before he fell back into the habit. “Where did you go?”
 
“Doesn’t matter...not yet anyways.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t press the issue, he knew Kurosaki would tell him if it was relevant. They didn’t say anything else until they reached the end of the garganta. Kurosaki didn’t seem to be in any big rush, nor did he seem overly concerned about the conversation he was about to have. Grimmjow was concerned. It wasn’t like Kurosaki had a good record.
 
He stepped from the garganta after Kurosaki, the shivering dome of la sangre exactly where he’d left it, unaffected by the world around it. The sky was deeply overcast, the shadows diffusing and making everything seem dark, despite the fact it must have been early afternoon. The world was cold, a biting breeze cutting through his jacket. The grounds were deserted, concrete and dead grass covered in a damp sheen.
 
Just as expected, the living world had a noticeable difference on the visored. His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his jaw tightening beneath black streaks. In his hollow form, he seemed less affected than before, but Grimmjow’s instincts still urged him to keep his distance. Kurosaki was something dangerous, something unpredictable, no matter if he swore up and down he wouldn’t kill him.
 
Kurosaki let out a long, slow breath, raising his hand. He snapped his fingers, and the dome disintegrated like a popped balloon.
 
Grimmjow stepped closer, and saw Kurosaki’s eyes were locked down and to the side, seeing something through stone and dirt, and whatever it was, it was pissing him off. Fantastic.
 
Kurosaki took a deliberate step forward, dropping his reiatsu to crushing levels. Grimmjow wasn’t even the center of his attention and he started to sweat, struggling to breathe. Kurosaki disappeared through la sangre, but now that his reiatsu was low, he could feel him only feet away inside the church. It was like looking up to find the sun, missing it would be impossible.
 
He went up to the double doors, throwing it open like a normal fucking person. He could be a dramatic fuckhead like Kurosaki and knock em flat, but they were nice doors. He stepped inside, cool grey light diffusing off of stark white walls. Kurosaki stood in the center of the room, directly beneath the dome, hands flexing in the desire for violence. Like moths to a flame, the Quincy appeared from the corridors off the side of the altar. Reishi crackled around the medallions in their hands, but nothing manifested, though not for a lack of trying.
 
Kurosaki’s voice bounced off tall ceilings, laced with a low growl. “You lied to the queen of Las Noches.”
 
The self proclaimed leader of the Quincy started to argue. “I don’t-”
 
“Did you think you could hide my hollows from me with a mere

die schranke

?!” The sudden volume of his voice made more than one Quincy flinch, expecting violence. The Quincy with opaque, rounded glasses looked particularly surprised, taking a step back in shock.
 
Kurosaki lifted his hand even before he finished speaking, la sangre rising near his feet with it. Three arrancar were pulled through the writhing mess and left to struggle through their discomfort and nausea on their own. They didn’t look like they were in very good shape. The arrancar they’d sent with them before were in fighting condition, these arrancar looked like the half starved prisoners they must have been, and he didn’t think the blood on them was all their own.
 
If Kurosaki was angry with the Quincy before, anger didn’t even begin to cover it now. If there was one thing Kurosaki hated, it was being manipulated and lied to.
 
Kurosaki carried on in a snarl, “Do

not

lie to me, Haschwalth.”
 
Haschwalth looked deeply unsettled. “How do you know my name?”
 
Grimmjow heard the telltale signs of madness lining Kurosaki’s voice. “Your souls howl your secrets, how could I

not

hear it.” Grimmjow blinked, and Kurosaki appeared directly before Haschwalth, his hand wrapped around the nape of his neck to keep him still. He hissed, “

I see you

. You can’t hide from me, not from die augen.”
 
Haschwalth’s voice wavered with barely contained fear and anger. “You killed her.”
 
Kurosaki smiled, he could hear it in his voice. “I did,” he purred. Grimmjow knew some of that satisfaction was faked, but not all. Even after death she was still a pain in the ass.
 
Haschwalth demanded, “How?! You’re

gemischt

. You cannot be das herz. It isn’t possible.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t know what gemischt meant, but the Quincy spat it like an insult, and it pissed him off. This bastard kept talking like he had the upper hand here and it annoyed him almost as much as his high and mighty voice, but he couldn’t say anything without undermining Kurosaki. If he had to bite his tongue much longer he might bite right through it.
 
Kurosaki’s voice was eerily pleasant. “It doesn’t matter how, Haschwalth. All you need to know is you’re

mine.”

Haschwalth jerked away from his grip, and Kurosaki let him, but Grimmjow knew contact wasn’t a necessity. La sangre crawled over the Quincy’s skin in an oil slick. Horror clouded his face, but that wasn’t what Grimmjow was looking at, as satisfying as it was.
 
A mohawk haired punk was readying himself to attack, reishi coating the two fingers he extended like a gun. Kurosaki didn’t need his protection, he was absolutely positive he noticed it, but Grimmjow was no pushover either, and it wasn’t worth Kurosaki’s time to deal with bullshit.
 
Grimmjow flickered out of sight in a buzz of sonido, appearing before a pew in the front, his hand clenching tight over the Quincy’s, along with the burning swarm of gathered reishi. His hierro protected him from the worst of it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch. He didn’t let the pain show on his face, baring his teeth in an unleasant smile. “

Goddamn

, bunch of persistent retards.”
 
The Quincy smiled back, crazy fucker, and kept pouring more reishi into his hand. “You’re the retard if you think we’re going to just roll over and let some filthy arrancar tell us what to do.”
 
To Grimmjow’s surprise, it was Haschwalth that intervened. “

Bazz

.” He let his own reiatsu spike, startling the pink haired Quincy with the ferocity of it. Underneath the pressure of Kurosaki’s own reiatsu on top of his own, the Quincy was starting to sweat.
 
Grimmjow shoved his hand back, hopping back to perch on a pew closer to Kurosaki. The Quincy hesitated, reishi still cracklings, but he wasn’t sure if he should attack now that some of that impulsive rage was curved. It looked a hell of a lot like he was concerned about Haschwalth, but now that he’d ordered him to stand down, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
 
The visored had Haschwalth on his knees, la sangre no longer in sight, but the Quincy was clutching his chest in a way that didn’t bode well for him. Whatever Kurosaki had done looked unpleasant, and the other Quincy all had their weapons raised, yet didn’t act. Grimmjow wondered then if they even could.
 
Kurosaki crouched down to be at his level, resting his arms on his knees. “You make it extremely difficult to like you.”
 
“You’re nothing like her,” Haschwalth spat.
 
Kurosaki laughed, that same dark, carefree sound Grimmjow had heard from him when they had returned to Hueco Mundo. It raised Grimmjow’s hackles, it wasn’t a good sound, but there was nothing he could do, his hands were tied.
 
The arrancar near Kurosaki finally had enough of their wits about them to wonder what to do with themselves. Grimmjow snapped his fingers to get their attention, jerking his chin in a silent order to haul their asses out of Kurosaki’s way.
 
They didn’t need telling twice, they scrambled back closer to Grimmjow, not out of any kind of trust, but fear. Kurosaki hadn’t let up on the reiatsu, it wasn’t the best place for a weak arrancar to be, but they were going to have to suck it up.
 
Kurosaki straightened, shifting out of his hollow form. His reiatsu changed, feeling a bit less like an arrancar, although that made it no less oppressive than before. His voice echoed in the silence in the room. “That’s what I like to hear, but it’s not true.”
 
He did something then that Grimmjow hadn’t seen him do before. He raised his hands, burning eyes opening in the air behind him. They looked just like the eyes at the edge of the world, except these were fixated entirely on the Quincy before him.
 
Grimmjow crouched, his hand tight on the back of the pew. Old wood creaked under his grip, the silence in the room only permeated by the sizzle of reishi and the exhale of breath.
 
Kurosaki tightened his hands into fists, then lowered his arms. The eyes didn’t go anywhere, but Grimmjow noticed there was an eye for every Quincy, and each eye tracked their chosen target with unwavering intensity.
 
The Quincy stared at Kurosaki and das licht with wide eyes, uncertain if they would need to defend themselves, or if they even could. Haschwalth finally asked, “If you’re not here to kill us, what do you want?”
 
“What do I want?

Compliance

, Haschwalth.” Kurosaki said. “She was dosing you up good with das licht, wasn’t she? Want it back? Earn it.”
 
“How?” grit the pink haired Quincy.
 
Kurosaki looked to him, voice tight. “By staying out of this.”
 
Haschwalth struggled to his feet. “You expect us to let years of-”
 
Kurosaki talked right over him, raising his voice. “

I expect

you to do as I say. The Soul King

will

die, but I don’t need you to do it. I need you stay in the living world where you belong.”
 
Another Quincy spoke up, lip curled in disgust. “Where we

belong

, as if a gemischt knows anything about it.”
 
Grimmjow tensed, genuinely fearful Kurosaki would kill the Quincy. He didn’t give a damn if he did, but the implications of that made him nervous.
 
After a tense silence, Kurosaki spoke, his tone lighter than Grimmjow expected. “You’re right, I don’t belong anywhere. I’m not human, shinigami, Quincy, hollow...I’m

all

of these things, and none of them.”
 
Without warning, the eyes hanging transfixed behind Kurosaki shot in a bolt into the heart of every Quincy. For a moment, Grimmjow thought he’d killed all of them, and from the shocked look on their faces, they must have too. The appeared to be unharmed, although their auras increased exponentially. Interesting.
 
Kurosaki said dismissively. “You want das licht back. You can have it.” Something changed his mind, but Grimmjow couldn’t be sure what it was. Whatever weapons they had been trying and failing to form finally manifested, all of them torn between attacking Kurosaki and standing down.
 
Haschwalth was holding a cross like medallion in his hand, and speaking his concerns aloud looked physically painful, no doubt he held it in the same light as begging. “How do you expect us to fight with any effectiveness if we can’t move freely?”
 
Kurosaki snorted, unimpressed. “Until further notice, you want to go somewhere, you’ll do it the old fashioned way and walk, or buy a goddamned plane ticket.”Grimmjow assumed that meant he’d locked down on their ability to create their version of a garganta. Sucked for them.
 
Pink hair started to protest. “You can’t-”
 
“

I just did

. You’re lucky to have what I gave you. Earn my trust, and power comes with it. You don’t have to like that, or me, but that’s reality.”
 
One Quincy was either mad or foolishly brave. They shot Kurosaki, or tried to. Arrows of light shattered into a thousand glittering shards just before they hit him, swirling and sinking into his skin, absorbing their attack with no apparent effort at all. Kurosaki looked annoyed, but Grimmjow could see behind it. His eyes held a glint of bloodlust, his muscles coiled tight like a cat readying itself to pounce; it was a goddamned miracle no one was dead.
 
Kurosaki drawled, “Anyone else want to try?”
 
No one moved, but Kurosaki did. He stepped up to their self appointed leader and reached for his chest, tapping his index finger over his heart in brief mimicry of his heartbeat. “I’ll be watching you...nothing you do will escape my notice. I don’t trust you. Try to kill anything that isn’t already hunting an innocent and I’ll take it out of your soul.”
 
Haschwalth tightened his jaw, but didn’t move, struggling to keep his pride intact. Grimmjow had no doubt Kurosaki could back up every word of that threat, no doubt at all, and it chilled his blood to know that.
 
The Quincy couldn’t let it go, he hissed, “Our cause is just.”
 
“

Just

?” Kurosaki mocked. “You used a

kid

, one of your own-
 
“He agreed to it!”
 
“-as fodder.” He looked past Haschwalth and bellowed, “Do any of you give a damn what happened to him?” He scanned their faces, and despite their best efforts to hide it, a few of them looked away in shame. A laugh escaped his chest, a pained sound, and he continued, incredulous. “It didn’t work, and it would have killed him, so,” he clapped once. “

Congratulations

.”
 
Haschwalth defended. “He was

gemischt

, he should be grateful to-”
 
He was cut off by Kurosaki’s hand around his throat. The visored lifted him off the ground with barely any effort, his eyes narrowed in fury. He hissed, “

Justice

, what a joke. You’re monsters, same as me. Monsters with a pretty cause and a pretty face, but you can’t hide from me.” He threw Haschwalth back, the Quincy sliding across the floor until he hit pink-hair in the shins. Haschwalth coughed, his hand around his throat, and there was a flicker of terror in his eyes as he stared up at Kurosaki.
 
Kurosaki curled his hands into fists, his claws drawing blood from his palms to drip on the floor in a steady rhythm. He called on la sangre to balance himself, it spiralled around him, flickering from the ground in jagged flames. He took a step forward and Grimmjow’s eyes widened, seeing the struggle happening inside him clear as day. He had been hanging back so it wasn’t so fucking obvious Kurosaki was a loop short of a knot, but he couldn’t let him kill someone by accident.
 
He moved with sonido, appearing before him with his back to people he didn’t trust as far as he could spit. He hunched his shoulders, skin crawling, expecting an arrow through the heart just for having the ill judgement to turn his back, but nothing happened.
 
He stared back at Kurosaki, swallowing thickly. He could see the fire in his eyes, despite the fact that he was pulling on la sangre. There was a vengeance burning there he didn’t think he could stop, he didn’t recognize all of it as Kurosaki.
 
“What? You gonna kill me too?” He tried for sarcasm, trying to shatter the tension Kurosaki had built.
 
The question jolted something in the visored, his brows furrowing. He knew Kurosaki didn’t want to kill him, he felt it in his blood, and he knew it wasn’t foolish naivety. He knew it as well as his own sword.
 
The visored stared back at him, unblinking, and a Quincy had to go and do something

stupid

. They blurred into sight just behind Kurosaki, covered in the glow of their power. He caught a glimpse of the crazed look in their eyes, they knew this would kill them, the kamikaze sonofabitch.
 
He blinked, and he was too slow to catch Kurosaki’s attack, all he saw was his hand inside their chest. Kurosaki jerked his hand free with a sickening squelch, his arm soaked in dark red blood, and there wasn’t a flicker of regret on his face.
 
The Quincy collapsed on the marble floor, his power going out like a light. Kurosaki could have taken all of their attacks without so much as noticing them. He killed that Quincy because he’d wanted to, it was mindless vengeance.
 
Grimmjow shouted, “KUROSAKI!”
 
That got his attention. His voice was still bouncing off the walls when the visored turned, the mangled ruins of a heart clenched in his hand. Shit shit

shit

, this couldn’t get much worse.
 
Grimmjow’s stomach plummeted when he felt cold steel against his side of his throat. He swallowed, and the reishi sharpened steel cut through his hierro, a single drop of blood heating his skin. He whispered, “You stupid bastard, he's going to

kill you

, what are you doing?”
 
Haschwalth hissed, “Back off, or he dies.”
 
“Are you insane?” Grimmjow asked quietly, his eyes still locked on Kurosaki’s. “He will kill

all

of you.”
 
Haschwalth insisted, “He will if I do nothing, and he will if I don’t.” They finally understood, pride be damned, that they were just sheep trapped with a rabid wolf. A wolf that had tasted blood, and was eager for more.
 
If they were going to be a herd of panicked prey, so be it. All that meant was that he had to reach Kurosaki with a room full of obstacles, and he looked like all he wanted in the world was to kill all of them.
 
Kurosaki’s eyes traveled from Haschwalth, to the blood on Grimmjow’s neck. He wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure getting caught might have made this so much worse. Kurosaki hadn’t been fucking around when he said he considered him to belong to him; he was a territorial fucker. He could fight off his captor, but that would be a death sentence for the Quincy, and Kurosaki didn’t start this with their death in mind.
 
Kurosaki reached for the sword on his back, a bloody hand tightening around the hilt, and Grimmjow felt a surge of desperation. With what these Quincy had done to Ishida, he couldn’t bring him up without making this worse, same for the shinigami. He struggled to find a reason for these Quincy to live at all, it wasn’t like he had any personal interest in any of them surviving….so he wouldn’t make it about them.
 
He had a lot of practice with condescension, he packed his words with all of it. ”Who's the monster, Ichigo?”
 
He’d never called him that before, and it startled Kurosaki enough that he froze. The visored looked uncertain, his grip on the hilt loosening. He didn’t give him time to think his way around it or time to read his heart, he struck a low blow. “Are you just like

him

?” He was nothing like Aizen, it was a flat out lie, but he needed to focus his anger somewhere else.
 
His words were still echoing in the room when Kurosaki disappeared. He was wrenched from the Quincy's grip by the front of his jacket in a nauseating pull of shunpo. Blood was hot on the side of his neck where the blade had consequently cut him, but it wasn’t deep, Kurosaki had moved too quickly for that.
 
Kurosaki lifted his hand from the fisted handful of his jacket to his throat, pressing his fingers against the shallow cut. His instincts squirmed under the touch, but he smothered the urge to move. He wasn’t a coward.
 
The look in Kurosaki’s eyes was still too distant, too cold. Did he know he was bluffing? He had to now, he’d touched him.
 
The visored glared over Grimmjow’s shoulder at the Quincy, daring them to make another move. Wisely, they didn’t.
 
Now that they were separated from the Quincy, Grimmjow could speak to him without being overheard, without having to tiptoe around what he wanted to say. His whisper was sharp. “Is this all you are? A sword for someone else’s outrage?”
 
Grimmjow felt the itch as he healed him, and when his eyes flicked up to his own, he saw recognition and gratitude. He pulled his hand back and answered softly. “

No

. I’m Kurosaki...Kurosaki Ichigo.” He sounded as if he was reassuring himself, and from the tone of his voice, Grimmjow wasn’t sure he was succeeding.
 
Grimmjow said, “Yeah you hate em’, but do

you

want them dead. Do

you

want them to die?”
 
Kurosaki raised his hand, looking down at the blood, and tracked it to the fallen Quincy across the room.
 
“

Answer me,

” he demanded.
 
Kurosaki smeared the blood between his fingers, sucking in a sharp breath. “No, no I don’t.”
 
Kurosaki stepped around Grimmjow, seamlessly shifting into his hollow form as he did. The Quincy shifted, defensive as a school of fish around a shark, but he made no move for them. There was no doubt now that when he threatened to kill them, he had no problem following through.
 
Kurosaki’s reiatsu vanished, and he carried on as if he hadn’t casually killed one of their own. “So much as think about leaving the living world and I’ll kill you. Don’t disregard my orders, but otherwise I don’t give a damn what you do with yourselves. You want to fight a crusade against hollows in the living world, help yourselves, but leave the other worlds out of it.” He added in a possessive growl. “Hueco Mundo is mine.”
 
None of them protested. As far as deals went, this one was pretty generous. Haschwalth looked sick, but Grimmjow didn’t think it was just fear, whatever Kurosaki had done to him with a sangre was taking a toll.
 
Kurosaki shifted his weight, his eyes locking onto a blonde near the front. “

Candice

.” He curled his finger, beckoning her forward.
 
She took a deliberate step back, eyes glittering in both fear and defiance. “No.”
 
“Walk on your own, or I drag you back.” Kurosaki shrugged loosely, not giving a shit what she chose to do, he had bigger problems. “Your choice.”
 
None of the Quincy stood up for her, which was no shock. Their attacks on Kurosaki might as well have been toy arrows. She clenched her jaw, an angry flush on her cheeks, and gathered up her pride. She crossed over to him with her head held high, and to her credit, she didn’t even glance down as she stepped over her fallen comrade.
 
Kurosaki took a step to the side, gesturing for her to pass him by. “Ladies first.” He still sounded distinctly murderous, but he was reigning it in.
 
Grimmjow grabbed one of the arrancar by the arm, hauling them to their feet. “Same goes for you three.

Get up.

” Injured or not, he wasn’t feeling too empathetic. He dragged the woman most of the way to the door before she found her feet and walked on her own.
 
Kurosaki opened a garganta without stopping, but when Candice hesitated, he grabbed her upper arm as he passed her, forcing her to keep pace or be dragged after him like a child. She opted to walk, tugging on her arm. “

I’ve got it

.” She muttered, “Dick.”
 
Despite the insult, she glanced at him sideways like she expected to lose an arm for it. Kurosaki ignored her, letting her arm go, though Grimmjow couldn’t fault her for being afraid. Those first few months he thought for sure Kurosaki was going to kill him, and that was when he was being “friendly”.
 
Three steps into the garganta and Kurosaki shut it behind them, stalking forward in silence. Grimmjow watched him carefully, but it was hard to say how in control Kurosaki was.
 
Candice finally spoke up. “Why bring

me

?”
 
Kurosaki answered flatly, “You know my fraccion.”
 
Her hands tightened into fists. “So what?” Kurosaki said nothing, so she walked faster, trying to get ahead of him. His stride was longer, but she managed to skip ahead to plant herself in his path. He stopped, eyes narrowed, and she hissed, “You think I care about her? Think I give a shit about some bitch arrancar? You’re wasting your-”
 
He had his hand around her mouth before Grimmjow even saw him move, forcing her to be silent. His hand tightened enough that she grasped his arm, trying to pry his hand free. His face twisted into a snarl, leaning in close. “

Liar

.” He dropped her onto his own jagged platform of reishi, her own lost in her surprise. “

Now be silent.

You’re loud enough without opening your fucking mouth.”
 
He walked around her, and when she lunged to her feet to try again, Grimmjow stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. He was starting to feel like the fucking babysitter, and all of his wards were hell bent on suicide. “

Don’t

.”
 
She managed to keep outwardly calm, despite clearly being shaken. To be fair, she was probably inches away from a hand through her gut, she’d be insane if she wasn’t scared. She actually took Grimmjow’s advice and hung back, glaring at Kurosaki’s back. She wiped her arm over her mouth in disgust, rubbing it off on her pants. “The fuck is he even talking about?”
 
“You heard him, shut up and stay out of his way.” He didn’t want to tell her why, but she wasn’t stupid, she was figuring it out.
 
She stepped out onto her own platform of reishi, looking at the arranar behind him, reading the terror on their faces. “He’s on your side, right? Why are they so scared?”
 
The last place a weak arrancar wanted to be was in the shadow of something like Kurosaki, but she raised a good question. “

Walk

.” She did, and he answered, “Aren’t

you

?”
 
Her cheeks brightened with both anger and shame, and she asked another question instead, “He can’t actually hear my soul, can he?”
 
“If he says he can, he can. That cunt, whatsername, Ana-“
 
“

Adaliz

.”
 
“Whatever.” Grimmjow raised a brow. “She could too, couldn’t she?”
 
She looked uncomfortable, and finally chose to say nothing. That was fine with Grimmjow, he was still trying to chase off the shakes. Adrenaline was one thing, dealing with Kurosaki was another.
 
They stepped from the garganta, and to no one’s shock, Harribel was there waiting. She got one good look at Kurosaki, then looked to Grimmjow for answers, because of course.
 
He hopped down from the garganta, the three arrancar with him nearly falling on their face as they followed behind him.
 
Harribel didn’t need telling as to where their arrancar ducklings came from, it was clear they’d been lied to.
 
Candice stood awkwardly to the side, looking a bit lost once the garganta shut. Grimmjow didn’t feel sorry for her. Hekept his explanation to Harribel brief, “He killed one, the rest are alive. Locked out of Hueco Mundo, but alive.”
 
Grimmjow was startled when Kurosaki called on la sangre, his first instinct that he was on the offensive, then confused when he summoned Loly there, of all arrancar. Kurosaki caught her shoulders before she could collapse, spinning her around to face one of the arrancar. “Found her.”
 
Loly swallowed past a severe bout of all her insides wanting to be outside, her eyes widening in shock when she saw the blonde arrancar they’d brought back. “Me-Menoly?”
 
The blonde arrancar threw pride to the wind and flung herself into her arms, sobbing. Loly looked shocked, unsure of what to do with her arms, then abruptly shoved Menoly off and threw up.
 
Grimmjow didn’t usually recognize weaklings, it wasn’t like he’d known. “She was one of ours?”
 
“Clearly,” said Kurosaki. “She went missing a few months ago.”
 
Loly got ahold of herself enough to throw Menoly to the ground, her hands clenched in her jacket. “I thought you were dead!” She clenched her teeth through her tears, and Grimmjow wasn’t sure she wasn’t going to kill Menoly herself. She lifted her up just to slam her back against the ground. “Bitch!”
 
That would have been alarming if Menoly wasn’t laughing. At least it seemed like laughing. Weird fuckers.
 
Harribel looked both touched and extremely pissed off, which was hard to pull off. “They lied to me.”
 
Grimmjow snorted. “That won’t fuckin’ happen again.” She shot him a look at his tone, so he took a step closer to Kurosaki.
 
Candice was edging closer and closer to the exit, but Kurosaki noticed, his tone biting. “Where do you think you’re going?”
 
“Nowhere,” she lied.
 
“No other arrancar is aware you’re not an intruder. Try to run and I can’t guarantee you’ll live.”
 
Her face twisted up in anger. “As if I’d let a filthy arrancar kill me.”
 
Kurosaki stared at her, then rolled his eyes in disgust and waved her off. “Fine, I don’t care.”
 
Harribel crossed the room in sonido, dropping her hand on Candice’s shoulder to stop her midstep. “

I do

. You will not leave this room.”
 
Candice flung out a leg to kick her in the side, but in a swift series of attacks, Harribel had Candice’s arm twisted up between her shoulder blades. “Calm down,

Quincy

.”
 
Candice wrenched her arm, clearly uncaring if she dislocated it if it was on her own terms. She screamed, “It’s Candice, you bitch!”
 
Harribel tightened her grip to make her point, then let her go. Candice skipped back a few paces, which consequently put her back in the room. She seemed a bit confused as to why Harribel let her go in the first place, but she wasn’t complaining either. To Grimmjow, it simply looked like Harribel had better things to do than wrangle a screeching Quincy.
 
Kurosaki looked to Grimmjow, handing him his cell. “Take this to Szayel”
 
Any other time he might have argued, but he needed a break from crazy. Kurosaki seemed...stable, that was going to have to be good enough.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

Ichigo crouched down and closed his eyes, the hand that happened to not be soaked in blood pressed to the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t let go of la sangre since Grimmjow had stopped him, and it helped, but only so much.
 
Eventually Harribel stepped up to him, crouched in front of him, her elbows resting on her knees. “Ichigo.”
 
He looked up at her, grimacing at the look on her face. “I only killed one.”
 
She asked something that he hadn’t considered. “Did you want to kill them all?”
 
He was trying not to think about it, but that question dragged him back to sharp blue eyes and blood and rage. “I don’t know.” He realized how vague he was being. “I don’t know if it was me.”
 
He looked past her, seeing that the reason she had backed off from Candice was that her fraccion was currently corralling her. “Ichigo.” He watched as Candice rushed Apacci, and the arrancar laughed, deflecting a small crossbow style bolt with the back of her hand. Harribel reached out, her fingertips brushing his cheek, and gently gained his attention.
 
He looked back at her, at seafoam eyes and said, “I’m not going to wait around. I’m going to kill the Soul King, I’m not waiting anymore.”
 
She withdrew her hand, eyes narrowed. “Is that wise?”
 
A chuckle escaped him at the question. “As if I’ve ever done a damn thing you could call wise. This isn’t going to get better, and if there’s anyone else that can do it, feel free to send them instead.”
 
She frowned. “I’m being serious, Ichigo.”
 
He said, “I am too. I’d rather do this before I risk killing someone I care about.”
 
“You think that could happen?”
 
“I think it’s foolish to assume that it won’t.” He turned his bloodied hand over, then called on la sangre, letting it wash over his skin. It devoured the reishi thick blood, leaving his arm completely clean, like it never even happened...and he wondered why he hadn’t thought that sooner. Was it even his idea? He didn’t like not knowing.
 
She glanced over her shoulder at Candice. “Should she be here?”
 
Candice wasn’t close enough to hear what was said, but he was still exposing a glaring weakness to someone that hated him. “It doesn’t matter.” There was nothing the Quincy could do about it, not anymore. He had them in the palm of his hand, and they knew it.
 
Not knowing if he was going to kill them on a whim was...problematic, and concerning. There was painfully little holding him back, and what little was left between himself and his bloodlust was eroding away, bit by bloody bit.
 
The people he loved were safe, those familiar to him were also safe, but anyone else? He wasn’t so sure and he wasn’t sure how long it would last.
 
He was angry at Soul Society, seethingly angry, but the thought of killing Rukia turned his stomach. She was a member of the Gotei 13, she was at the heart of Soul Society, and if he couldn’t conceivably point a sword at her, did he have the resolve to do this?
 
He backtracked. First the Soul King, then Soul Society, then his own soul. He didn’t take precedence, he never had.
 
Harribel gauged his resolve and didn’t try to argue with him. She asked, “When?”
 
“Nightfall.” He wouldn’t risk doing this during the day, he couldn’t. It was hard enough in Hueco Mundo, but it would be even harder in Soul Society.

--- xxx ---

Abarai Renji
 
Ever since the hollow attacks in the Rukongai had abruptly stopped, things had gotten quiet. Quiet, but not peaceful. Ever Taicho besides Mayuri and Kenpachi was on edge. Things seemed normal, but there was an undercurrent of fear in every division. They weren’t good enough, plain and simple.
 
Kurosaki,

a ryoka visored

, had dealt with every bankai he’d encountered with the ease he might have against an unreleased sword. His invasion on Seireitei wasn’t forgotten, that section of Seireitei was still recovering from the Soutaichou’s flames. Despite the fact that their goals had temporarily aligned against the Quincy, they were under no illusion Kurosaki Ichigo was anything more than a threat.
 
No shinigami forgot that, on patrol, on duty, off, there was a tension in the air. It hung there like humidity as Renji dropped off the last of his paperwork. It was dark, the streets were completely silent, and most but patrols had already turned in for the night. It was luck and anxiety that had Renji out so late.
 
He trained when he could, and dreaded sleep. He was working himself to the bone, and Rukia was avoiding him. He was bitter about that, which felt both fair and petty. He just wanted to talk, but he didn’t even know what he would say. Sorry your friend is a monster? Psh.
 
He stopped suddenly, a chill ghosting up his spine. He whirled, but saw nothing but an empty street. It felt like a knife was digging into his back, but he saw no cause, there was nothing. His hand tightened on Zabimaru, and he didn’t even remember reaching for it. He spun again.

Nothing

.
 
He scanned the rooftops, the end of the road, expecting to see something...he

heard

something. A soft hiss, like the slide of fabric, or...sand.
 
He looked down at his feet, seeing a layer of pale sand he didn’t remember seeing before. He stared at it in confusion, then saw the flicker of darkness over the surface, like the crest of waves, and the sand grew deeper. His heart started to pound, finally realizing what he was seeing. He ran, jumping up onto the roof. He slipped into a clumsy shunpo, sprinting for the nearest tower. He jumped to a walkway, and nearly ran full tilt into someone. “Sound the alarm, we’re under attack.”

They looked young, unprepared, and they didn’t recognize him. “I don’t-”
 
“Do it!” he shouted, “Go!”
 
The authority in his voice must have been enough, because they took off, and only a moment later, a shrill bell rang, followed by another, and then bells rang across all of Seireitei. He barely even knew what he was warning anyone about, but he knew this was wrong.
 
He had to be there, his gut told him Kurosaki was nearby, but

where

?
 
He looked up, scanning the sky, and for a long moment, he didn’t see anything at all. Then a glint, the moonlight catching on something miles above him. He was too far away to see if he wasn’t just imagining things, but this wasn’t where he needed to be.
 
He turned and ran to his division, noticing the sand on the street was already more than a foot deep, and it was only getting deeper. “

Shit

.”
 
--- xxx ---
   
Thanks for reading!

Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx --- 
Kurosaki Ichigo
  
The wind tugged the ends of his shihakusho, muffling the sleepy sounds of Seireitei miles below him. He held his hands out beside him, palm up, and drew la sangre over the ground in a sweeping blanket of darkness, pulling the sands of Hueco Mundo through it. He didn’t do it all at once, he went slowly, like a rising tide. The more sand he pulled, the easier it was to bring more and more. He didn’t

need

to be sneaky, but he couldn’t exactly afford to be interrupted and he wanted an undisputed edge.
 
Alarm bells finally began to sound, piercing through the hum of the breeze. Either someone with eyes finally figured it out, or Mayuri managed to scan for la sangre the same way Szayel had, but the reason why didn’t really matter.
 
Grimmjow said, “They noticed.”
 
“No shit.” What he was doing was large scale, but straight forward. It was easy to do, and therefore, easy to talk, and Grimmjow was abusing that fact.
 
His fraccion was dressed in a black coak, courtesy of Urahara, a hood pulled over his head to both hide his shocking blue hair and mask his reiatsu down to nonexistent levels. Seemed Urahara knew him well enough to know where he went, Grimmjow went, and was kind enough to part with an intricately strengthened Kidou cloak from his younger, more mischievous days. Or so he said. Grimmjow whined that he didn’t need it, but was all in when he found out it would keep on hiding his reiatsu, even if he charged up something as strong as a bala.
 
Grimmjow asked, “What happens when they find us? It’s dark but it’s not like we’re fuckin’ hiding.”
 
“Doesn’t matter, I would just prefer not to have to work around every bankai in Soul Society. They’re flashy and distracting and this is going to take finesse.”
 
Grimmjow snorted. “You’re not delicate.”
 
“

Exactly

, which is why we didn’t start by busting in the front door. Now shut up, I don’t want to kill anyone.” Grimmjow huffed, but shut up, and Ichigo closed his eyes, focused on the sands he’d brought there.
 
Shinigami weren’t hollows, he couldn’t sense them the same way, and sensing their reiatsu was all well and good, but from so high up, it would be like trying to nail one of them in the forehead with a coin . Maybe if one of them stood stock still and wind didn’t exist, but all of them? That wasn’t going to happen.
 
He felt their footsteps displace sand, as good a map as any to determine where they were. He spread out his control, careful not to apply too much pressure. He didn’t want to crush anyone, he was only slowing them down.
 
He clenched his hands into fists, the sands rising and tightening around their legs like concrete. Anyone below a seated officer was going to struggle to free themselves, though if they were willing to sacrifice their waraji and hakama, some well placed Kidou would destroy it.
 
He opened his eyes, and noticed Grimmjow was looking at him with some measure of concern. He felt relatively fine, but the look on his face made him nervous. “What?”
 
Grimmjow looked a heartbeat away from lying, then thought better of it. “That fucker is whispering again.”
 
“You can hear that?” That was strange, but then both die Konigin and Alteza were eager for what came next, too eager. They were quieter, but deeper, like the humidity and ozone that came before a storm. The anticipation sang in his bones, but he felt like himself, more so than he had in awhile. “I’m fine.”
 
Grimmjow grimaced, glancing down at the unfolding chaos below them with a touch of longing. “Well then hurry it up, it’s creeping me out.”

--- xxx ---
 
Urahara Kisuke

1 hour earlier
 
Kisuke asked, “Have you ever opened a senkaimon?”
 
Kurosaki gave him a dry look. “What do you think? It isn’t like Soul Society wanted me bouncing in and out whenever I felt like it.” He shrugged. “Besides, I can open a garganta, I never needed to.”
 
His arrancar pet made a rude sound. “Defensive much?” The arrancar made a big fuss about not wanting to listen to boring shit, but he wore his emotions on his sleeve, he was paying just as much attention as he usually did, if not more so.
 
The visored scowled over at his fraccion. “Maybe I’m still a bit put out about it, it’s my God given right.”
 
Grimmjow closed his eyes, his tone scathing. “To be a whiny bitch?”
 
Kurosaki muttered, “Shut the fuck up.”
 
None of it was genuine ire, they were both nervous, and if they weren’t wasting his time, it might have been endearing. Compared to how Kurosaki had been when he’d seen him only hours before, this was a massive improvement. He sighed dramatically. “Well, since you’ve never opened one, time for a crash course.” He held out his hand palm up. “I need your Zanpakuto.”
 
Kurosaki raised a brow. “Both?”
 
Kisuke wiggled his fingers, eager to move on. “They’re both your Zanpakuto, yes? But I only need one.”
 
Friend and ally or not, he couldn’t imagine Kurosaki was eager to disarm himself. After a moment’s hesitation, Kurosaki reached for the sword on his back, ‘unsheathing’ it and laying it flat in his hands. His arms sank, it was

heavy

, and like most shinigami’s Zanpakuto, the sword didn’t like him much. Most swords weren’t keen on anyone but their wielder; fancy that. The steel thrummed in his hands in annoyance, but seemed open enough to what he was about to do.
 
He crouched and set Zangetsu down, removing a small vial from a pocket. He spun it in his fingers, holding it up for Kurosaki to see. It was a pale powder, it didn’t look like much more than very fine sand. “This is a reishi dense hall pass, to be crude. I stripped the crystal down to its base form. Zanpakuto cut things, this will let you cut through the world. You’re not a true shinigami, not in the sense of your father, so I implanted my own reiatsu into it to fuel it. Your Zanpakuto isn’t going to like it, but try to talk them out of destroying it.”
 
Kurosaki frowned at him, and he gestured at his sword with the vial. “Right now. I didn’t have much of that rock to work with, if they destroy it, you’ll have to wait for me to make more from scratch.”
 
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Kurosaki’s eyes lost focus, his attention directed inward, then asked, “Just how unpleasant are we talking?”
 
Kisuke answered easily. “About as unpleasant as if I attempted to weild your sword as my own.”
 
Silence, then he asked, “And this is the only way?”
 
“Only one person will be able to go, it has to be you that opens the way, and if not my reiatsu, it would have to be another shinigami.”
 
Kurosaki stared at him a long moment, brows furrowing, and asked, “My father couldn’t do it?” When Kisuke hesitated, Kurosaki huffed, folding his arms, and tried to keep his tone light. “I know you talk behind my back, and it isn’t because I spy on you.”
 
Well, this was awkward. Kisuke leaned forward on his knees, idly spinning the vial between his fingers. “Yes, your father knows...I didn’t want to be caught in the middle, but there’s no sense pretending; he isn’t going to help you.” Kurosaki swallowed, visually struggling not to jump to conclusions. He knew this would sting, and that’s why he’d been trying to avoid it.
 
Kisuke said, “I’ll let him be the one to tell you why, but his choice wasn’t out of any sort of malice.”
 
Kurosaki ran his hand through his hair, leaving his hand on the back of his neck. He let out a long, slow sigh, then dropped his hand, gesturing down at his Zanpakuto. “Do it. Zangetsu agreed not to break it.”
 
At the very least, Kurosaki was rather painless to work with. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or flattered that the visored trusted him so much. He took the top off of the vial, pouring it over the sword. It didn’t behave like powder, it clung to the sword like it was a magnet. It didn’t do anything until he put the vial away and clasped his hands together in a simple gesture, activating the Kidō he’d laced into it. The powder turned into pure reishi, soaking into the blade of his sword. His swords seemed

very

unhappy about that, but true to Kurosaki’s word, the Kidō remained intact.
 
The glow faded and he stood, gesturing for Kurosaki to take his sword back. “Now do your best not to fight until you cut open the way, the Kidō could simply shatter under the strain of your reiatsu, especially with a shikai like yours.”
 
Grimmjow finally spoke up. “Hey, wait, I doubt the shinigami are just going to drop their weapons and and let us do what we want, and I’m not fightin’ all them for you.”
 
Kisuke stared at him, reminding himself they weren’t stupid, then explained for both of them. “No one can sense Kurosaki, sneaking in should be painfully easy.”
 
Kurosaki was still replacing his sword, when he asked, “Okay, but you never showed me how to do this.”
 
“It’s really very simple. Normally, a shinigami is opening an official senkaimon. To access it, you need both a Jigokuchō, and a Zanpakuto that has been permitted to open it.” He pointedly lifted Benihime. “My privileges were decidedly revoked, which is why I needed to prepare the Tenkai Ketchu the first time.”
 
Grimmjow groaned. “Do we need a fucking history lesson?”
 
Kisuke ignored him, drawing his Zanpakuto from the sheath. “As you know, a senkaimon skips over the dangai, making travel faster and safer. You’re not going to be accessing the dangai, not specifically. This is a place beyond that.”
 
Kurosaki seemed to be following, but Grimmjow spoke up again, skeptical. “Oy, how do you know this will work?”
 
“It will work,” Kisuke assured them, and moved on. “The place you’re accessing is a pocket dimension in between the living world and Soul Society. The closer you are to its origin, the more likely this is the first and only time we’ll need to try it. And given the layout of Soul Society, I’d say you start above Seireitei. It’s the very center of Soul Society for a reason.”
 
He entered shikai. “Okiro, Benihime.” His sword glowed and Benihime sleepily stirred, changing into his very neglected shikai. He held his sword before him vertically and said, “Most of the time, to do this, you would need to put your reiatsu into a Kidō-based spell. Instead of feeding your reiatsu to Zangetsu, you’re going to be activating the reishi I just put on your sword.”
 
Kisuke let his energy sweep over the surface of his blade, demonstrating just how little this would require. The blade glowed a dull red, not quite in the same way he would charge an attack. “I know control is a touchy subject, but you can’t exceed this amount of reiatsu or the Kidō will shatter.”
 
Grimmjow snorted. “Then we’re doomed, we’re all dead, I might as well go home.”
 
Kurosaki let out a dramatic sigh. “Did I

ask

for commentary?”  
 
“I’m only warning you be cautious,” said Kisuke. Kurosaki’s weapon hinged on the basic fact that it required an ocean of reiatsu to be effective. Instead of complicated techniques or skills, his Zanpakuto’s foundation was pure power. That spoke of someone born strong, that his soul was centered around the very concept.
 
For what little formal training he’d had, and in the situation in which he’d learned it, it was a miracle he had control at all. When he was stuck in a war that required he hit as hard and as fast as possible, he probably hadn’t gotten in a lot of practical use out of control.
 
Kurosaki frowned down at Zangetsu and asked, “Once the Kido is active, what do I do?”
 
Kisuke followed through with his demonstration. Instead of turning a lock like a traditional senkaimon, he slashed downwards through the air, his intended target reality itself. His sword cut through the world, the edges rippling and chaotic, far from the controlled gate of a senkaimon. Darkness stretched before him, into the timelessness of the precipice world. “I imagine the process is similar to that of a garganta. Cut that place beyond what you can see, the kido will focus your reach and open a way to the Soul King.”
 
Kisuke reached out, his hand passing through the gateway with ease. “Soul Society’s wards don’t extend to this method, it appears to be too primitive. Any safeguards in place that I may not know about most likely won’t activate.” Once he’d discovered this, it was tempting to leave Living World just as a show of defiance, but he had a life there, he wasn’t a lonely exile anymore.
 
He waved his hand, cutting his reiatsu off from the scar in space, and the portal snapped shut. Kurosaki asked, “How did you figure it out?”
 
“I did some soul searching.” Kisuke said, “Quite literally. It seems that during my time at the Academy, all those years ago, there was a very innocuous seal placed in my soul.” He kept his tone perfectly even, he knew he had, but Kurosaki watched him with a knowing frown. That boy knew him better than he should, he knew he was angry, despite how carefully he’d hidden it. He didn’t like being read so easily, but Kurosaki was more perceptive than he had a right to be.
 
Rather than linger on personal unpleasantness, he mused, “It’s occured to me that the dangai is dangerous.” Grimmjow and Kurosaki stared at him in confusion, not following his train of thought, but that was fine, he hadn’t expected they would. “The dangai is dangerously unstable compared to a garganta, and no one has ever asked why. If they have, there’s no record of it.”
 
Kurosaki said, “I thought it was to keep the hollows out?”
 
“That, Kurosaki, makes very little sense.” Kurosaki looked offended and he carried on. “That isn’t your fault, that’s what everyone believes. You know from experience, you can open a garganta where you like, even within the dangai if you so chose.” Kurosaki’s brow furrowed, trying to connect the dots. He saved him the effort. “What it seems like, to me, is that the dimensional space that separates Soul Society from the Living Word is degrading. I’ve no doubt the seal on my soul, and every shinigami, was put there to protect me from wandering into the dangai on my own.” That didn’t mean he liked what they’d done, not in the slightest.

He added, “You, Kurosaki, were born with your power, you never entered the academy, therefore, you have no seal. You should be able to access this dimension without any problem.”
 
He said nothing, and Kurosaki raised a brow. “Is that it?”
 
He plastered a smile on his face. “Ah! Be safe, good luck!” He covered up his worries with false smiles, this had the potential to go very badly, and Kurosaki didn’t need his own stress adding to his. He was a coward, in the end, he hadn’t even been able to get involved in family affairs. Isshin asked how dangerous this was and he lied. He lied with a smile to protect his friend from the fear his son might not come back.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

1 hour earlier
 
Grimmjow was more than a little confused when he told them they weren’t going straight to Soul Society. He hadn’t warned him he was going to make a detour, but it had always been part of the plan. The arrancar muttered something about never telling him shit, but didn’t argue.
 
Since Kisuke parted with one of his reiatsu invisibility cloak things, Grimmjow was nonexistent beside him. It might have been jarring if he couldn’t still feel his soul through Alteza. He’d bitched about wearing it at first, until he ordered him to suck it up and put it on. He didn’t want his family to know he was there. It was cowardly, but if he said goodbye, if he acted like this was the last chance he might have to see them, then it felt like some self fulfilling prophecy.
 
Once they were outside Kisuke’s Kido barriers, he walked. Grimmjow was a bit surprised to find they weren’t sprinting someplace, for once, but he didn’t argue. He asked where they were going, and he couldn’t find his voice to answer, so they walked in mutual silence.
 
It was just after sunset, the streets were busy with the bustle of a city he didn’t belong to anymore. It was surreal, to stand there and see people rushing from place to place, caught up in a life completely separate from hollows and shinigami and death. It was something that was woven into their lives, but something to be ignored and forgotten. Life went on, even the afterlife, but if he failed... and he wouldn’t think about it.
 
He climbed a familiar hill, making his way through the gates of the cemetery. The short walk down the path went by too quickly, and once he found himself standing before her grave, he realized he didn’t know what to say.
 
Grimmjow shifted beside him, then broke the silence. “This your mom?” He didn’t answer, it felt rhetorical anyways. “What’s a shinigami doing visiting a grave?”
 
“I know it’s pointless, I know she’s not here, she’s not anywhere. She was a full blooded Quincy, I’d feel her through das licht...but I feel nothing. If her soul is a part of the Soul King, then...” He’d done his best not to think about it, but should he lose himself, he wanted to have this. He’d become a substitute shinigami, and had the hope that his mother was reincarnated, that she wasn’t really gone. That hope had been abruptly crushed when he’d finally understood what he was feeling.
 
Grimmjow growled, “You said it yourself, souls can’t be destroyed. If the big bad in the sky can’t destroy a soul, fuck me if this false God can. She’s not gone, get over yourself.”
 
He was trying to make him feel better, and it was working, goddamn. He started to laugh, quietly at first, then full unrestrained laughter. He felt Grimmjow’s eyes on him, watching him in confusion. He got himself under control, a smile still on his face. “I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve heard from anyone in years.”
 
Grimmjow watched him with wide eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re a stupid bastard.” He kept staring at him, and at the expectant look Ichigo gave him, he shrugged and said, “You don’t really smile. It’s weird.” His tone turned accusatory. “

You’re weird

. Who laughs at their own mom’s grave?”
 
Ichigo was still smiling, he couldn’t help it. “I guess I do.” It was so simple, he should have thought of it, but it made him happy, it was a ray of hope he desperately needed.

“It’s a sad day when the fucking koneko thinks of something you don’t.”

‘You didn’t think of it either, genius.’

There was an armful of reasons why something so simple had eluded him, arrogance being among them. He swiped his hand over his face and crouched down, staring at the grave.

Masaki Kurosaki.

He brushed a couple of dead leaves from it, his fingers leaving streaks in a thin layer of dirt and dust. It shouldn’t matter, it was just a stone, but it was all he had. He didn’t even remember what her voice sounded like anymore.
 
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better older brother, okaasan.”
 
The past was past, but there were some things he couldn’t let go. Would she be disappointed in him, proud of him? He honestly didn’t know, and it was a moot point. Thankfully, Grimmjow withheld comment, he let him have his moment.
 
He straightened, sensing his father and sisters faintly across the city. He held onto that feeling, to the feeling of family, and let out a breath, turning to Grimmjow. “Okay, let’s go.”

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

Present

Among the whispering that hung around him like wind, Ichigo drew the khyber blade, shifting to look back at Grimmjow. Only one could go, this shouldn’t take long, but he was feeling particularly cautious. “If they find you, if something goes wrong, run.” The arrancar opened his mouth to argue, and he talked right over him. “Fuck your pride. You’re strong, but you can’t win on your own against all of Seireitei.”
 
Grimmjow bared his teeth through a snarl and said, “Then hurry up, you’re wasting time.”
 
It didn’t sound like he was going to heed his warning, but he really didn’t have time to argue. “Damn you,” he muttered. He held his sword before him and closed his eyes, concentrating on his power. Gentle, gentle, gentle…his power ghosted along the edge of his blade, along the Kidō he felt imposed on his Zanpakuto.
 
He felt it react, and he held his power steady, centering his mind on what he wanted to cut. He’d opened enough garganta in his life that the instinct to tear back the world was second nature. This was no different, he was going to rend space, he was going to destroy it.
 
He spun the blade in his hand, crouching low, and slashed the sky. A tear opened up beneath his blade, arcing away from him in a crescent as large as a getsuga. The door he’d opened was massive, and it didn’t lead to the dangai, it appeared to open up into nothing but darkness.
 
He stole a look back at Grimmjow, who stared at the gate with some measure of shock. He hadn’t meant to do that. “I can’t imagine that goes unnoticed. Stand down, I’ll be back for you.”
 
He hesitated long enough for Kurosaki to wonder just what he’d done to earn so much loyalty, then blurred into sonido. Ichigo turned back to the gate, and went in. He settled on a foothold of reishi, and the door snapped shut behind him, true to Kisuke’s word.
 
He cast out his senses, and found exactly what he was looking for. He looked up and saw a massive crystal, suspended in darkness. It emitted a subtle white glow, the burn of all the souls it had consumed. Die Konigin reacted, drawn to the cluster of souls like the pull of gravity. He could sense the Quincy so distinctly, trapped for so long, for such a senseless purpose.

“Doesn’t look like much.”

It didn’t, but this was clearly what he was looking for. He slipped into sonido, crossing the distance to stand before it. It was massive, nearly the size of a house, and it felt strange; not like a living thing, and not like the mineral is was supposed to be. He reached out, his hand pressing flat against cool crystal, and the reaction in his soul was violent.
 
The Gods inside him pressured his soul and it was

painful

. It stifled his breath and chilled his blood, the claws and teeth of monsters sinking into his soul. It only lasted an instant, then eased, but he was still doubled over, gasping for breath. He had no choice, there was no going back now.
 
“

King

.”
 
“It’s fine, I expected this.” The crawling sensation that his soul was not his own sank into his skin. It’s no wonder Aizen hadn’t used the key, despite all the trouble he went to to get it.
 
He shuddered, lifting Zangetsu, and jumped back. A getsuga crawled along the edge of the blade, mixing with la sangre and das licht without his say so. It was a seething combination of volatile power that didn’t mix.
 
No going back.
 
He steeled himself and brought Zangetsu down, his power slicing straight through the crystal in a destructive combination of his own power and that of the Gods.

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
He hated running, but Kurosaki had been gone longer than he should have, and like hell was he going to leave without him. Rather than risk being spotted against a moon that was nearly full, he took to the ground. Kurosaki had stirred beautiful chaos.
 
The sand that filled Seireitei was a familiar cushion under his feet, but Kurosaki hadn’t turned Seireitei into a sandbox as a fashion statement, his attempt to slow them down was still working wonders. Anyone stronger than a housepet was free by then, but they were still occupied trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. If he wasn’t so anxious, it might have been funny.
 
He ducked around a corner, throwing his back up against the wall, and listened as a squad ran past, then turned and went the other way for good measure. He had no destination in mind other than ‘don’t get caught’. There was just so damn many of them, and it had been a solid ten minutes since Kurosaki left. He could see a couple of shinigami investigating the sky above him, taicho, from the white of those haori, but so far there was only pure confusion.
 
That whispering was still present, and he had a feeling it was creeping out the shinigami as much as him. It came from everywhere and nowhere, he wasn’t even sure if he was actually hearing it, or if it was in his head. He was about to jump a wall, when those whispers grew in intensity. He noticed beneath them was the howl of voices, recognizing it for what it was. It raised his hackles to hear it, but that had to mean Kurosaki succeeded.
 
He was distracted, and he grew careless. He felt his instincts rail against reason, warning him, and he twisted,  drawing Pantera. His sword solidly connected with steel that had been angled to cut him in two. The first thing he noticed was that this was a captain, but he didn’t recognize which one, some noble looking motherfucker. “Attacking from behind? How brave.”
 
The captain narrowed his eyes, pressuring him back. “

Arrancar

. Where is your master?”
 
Grimmjow shoved forward, dislodging their swords, and swung wide. The captain dodged with shunpo, but didn’t put much distance between them, he knew he had him dead to rights. “The word you’re searching for is

King

, I ain’t a fuckin’ dog.”
 
Another voice rang out from behind him, sounding much less formal. “You look like a mongrel to me.”
 
Grimmjow jumped back and dropped into a low crouch, keeping the two of them in his sight. He recognized the red-haired one, Renji; which meant this particular taicho and fukutaicho pair were off limits. Just his luck to run into the two Kurosaki actually gave a damn about. “Sorry, but I didn’t come here to fight.”
 
“Should have thought about that before you dropped your ass down in Seireitei.” Renji lifted his sword, palm resting on the blade, and went into shikai. “Howl, Zabimaru!” Grimmjow clenched his hand into a fist, teeth bared in irritation. He couldn’t fight, and he didn’t want to run.

Where the fuck are you, Kurosaki?

While Renji taunted him, the taicho was circling to get behind him. “Sneaking around like a rat, you don’t fight rats, you put them down.” They weren’t going to kill him, they were intent on capturing him, on getting him to make a mistake. He didn’t spend decades hunting to live to not recognize when he was being herded.
 
The taicho finally spoke, a haughty demand in his voice. “What is this whispering?”
 
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Fuck this. Grimmjow flickered into sonido, and to his disappointment, the taicho kept pace, cutting off his escape. Rather than stop and try for another direction, Grimmjow clenched his left hand into a fist, trying his hardest to punch the smug bastard in the face. His fist passed though nothing but air, raising his sword to block another swing for his ribs. He deflected the strike and jumped back, avoiding an opportunistic attack from Renji, but his fucking sword

extended,

cutting off his escape. He raised his bare arm to block, his hierro only stopping most of it. His Zanpakuto cut through flesh, grating against bone, but he didn’t lose an arm, and that was something.
 
Grimmjow shoved the sword off, and blurred again into sonido. The taicho chased him, and he was

fast

. “Bakudō #4. Hainawa!” He glanced back only to catch a glimpse of gold ropes of reishi. They tangled around him and he fell with a grunt, trapped in a net of reishi, skidding several feet across the surface of the roof. He squeezed his sword tighter, his reiatsu spiking. “OW!” Fuck getting caught, where the fuck was Kurosaki?!
 
The taicho stood over him, chanting, “"Carriage of thunder, bridge of a spinning wheel.” Grimmjow raised his reiatsu, forcing the Kido that bound him back, but too slowly. “With light, divide this into six. Bakudō #61. Rikujōkōrō.”
 
Just as the reishi ropes were starting to ease up, he was struck with beams of light, paralyzing him from the spell. He swore. “FUCK!” Fucked if he fought, fucked if he didn’t, he hated this.
 
Renji crossed over to him, rolling him to his back, and stepped on his chest, leaning in close. “Where is Kurosaki?”
 
Grimmjow growled like a rabid dog, his laughter full of mockery. “You’re too late anyway, and what the fuck could you do if you weren’t?”
 
The shinigami leaned on his chest, ribs creaking under the pressure, making it hard to draw breath, but Grimmjow just kept fighting for laughter. “Face it, you lost before you even got started.”
 
The taicho stood over him, commenting. “The strength you displayed during the invasion by the Quincy was much more than this. Why didn’t you fight back?”
 
Grimmjow wheezed for air, his laughter turning into a cough. “Because, you stupid fuck, Kurosaki actually likes you. Fuck if I know why.” He struggled through another small laugh. “All you fucks ever did was use him, you get whatever you got coming, even if it never happened.”
 
Renji leaned down hard enough to completely cut off his air, the fukutaicho’s face twisted in anger. “Who cares what we did or didn’t do it some nonexistent timeline? All that matters is what happens

now

.”
 
Grimmjow smiled up at him, letting his head fall back against the roof tiles. Renji let up enough for him to speak. “It’s real to him...you don’t want to be...on the bad side...of a God.”

--- xxx ---
 
Abarai Renji
 
They stood in the sixth division headquarters, on a few feet of sand, of which didn’t seem confined to the streets, it was

everywhere

. Beyond being a general annoyance, there was no quick, practical way to get it out,
 
Their arrancar captive was finally bound in sekkiseki cuffs, his reiatsu output was down to a seated officer, and was still plummeting, though the Kidō was left in place as a precaution. They had taken away his sword, which looked remarkably like a Zanpakuto up close. It was resting in the corner, far from reach, and if the arrancar wasn’t glaring at the shinigami around him, he was staring at it with a need that made Abarai uncomfortable.
 
The arrancar, Grimmjow apparently, was fucking pissed, and he wouldn’t stop trying to free himself, but he also wouldn’t stop laughing, and it was creeping everyone out as much as that goddamn howling and whispering.
 
It had been a good hour since they’d captured the arrancar, and given the atmosphere of chaos, it had taken that long to get a message to Yamamoto and the other captains. It was informal at best, but the captain’s were treating this as if they were in the middle of a battle, despite the lack of a tangible enemy.
 
That they captured someone at all felt more like luck than a victory. The cloak was still on the arrancar, but only because it was trapped beneath the binding like the rest of him, and no one was willing to remove it. You don’t take the muzzle off of a rabid dog, no matter how safe you think it is.
 
Not every captain was present, some were still in the field overseeing what was happening, but Gin was there, Toshiro, Kyoraku, Byakuya, and finally Yamamoto. Chatter ceased when he stepped into the room, crossing it to stand directly before the arrancar sitting in the center of the room.
 
The arrancar glared up at him, teeth bared in aggression. “I ain’t scared of you.” Renji didn’t think that was a lie, the arrancar seemed manically fearless.
 
Yamamoto stared down at him, then ordered. “All unseated shinigami, return to the field.”
 
Everyone that wasn’t a captain or a lieutenant immediately left. Grimmjow smiled broadly, flashing sharp teeth. “What, can’t handle a little potential dissidence? How do you think they would feel if they-“
 
“Silence!” Yamamoto punctuated that order with a slam of his cane into the ground, but Grimmjow’s smile only widened.
 
To Renji’s shock, he didn’t try to talk again, but it wasn’t because he was cowed, he seemed to believe this was his best course of action. The arrancar looked around the room, a bark of laughter escaping him just as the last shinigami left. “Holy shit, they don’t know, do they?” His eyes scanned the room, settling on Kyoraku. “

He

knows though, doesn’t he? Yeah, you can see it on his face.”
 
Yamamoto ignored him. “What are you doing here, arrancar?”
 
Grimmjow only laughed. Renji wasn’t even the one asking him questions anymore and it pissed him off. He didn’t just act like he knew more,

he did,

and he was flaunting it.
 
Yamamoto’s reiatsu was suddenly heavy in the room, enough that Renji’s legs nearly gave out. He swallowed, fear crawling up his spine, and still the arrancar smiled. “You don’t scare me,
anciano
.”
 
Yamamoto weighed his response, and must have decided Grimmjow wasn’t bluffing. He spoke calmly. “If you can give us no information, you will die, arrancar.”
 
Grimmjow’s expression turned murderous, but Renji didn’t think it was because of the threat itself. “I ain’t scared to die.”
 
Yamamoto’s reiatsu suddenly let up, and he turned, leaving the room with standing orders. “Take the arrancar to Mayuri taichou. If he can’t extract any information, we have no more use for him.”
 
Grimmjow looked frustrated by this news, and if Renji looked closely enough, he thought he might have seen the beginnings of real distress in his eyes.
 
Renji was starting to feel like the bad guy. It was one thing to know Mayuri did questionable things to hollows, but to

meet

his next victim? This arrancar wasn’t a mindless animal, he could think and feel like any shinigami, and it wasn’t unreasonable he was afraid.
 
Renji blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the same flickering darkness he’d seen over the sand was curling in the air before Grimmjow. He reached for his sword, as did everyone in the room, and Yamamoto paused, turning back. The dark swirled tighter in a torrent, then broke, and Kurosaki was standing in the middle of the room as if he’d always been there.
 
He looked

exactly

like a hollow, he hadn’t seen him this close up before, and the fact that he could see straight through his chest filled him with a disquiet he very rarely felt. He stood with loose confidence, but those horns were low, his shoulders hunched like a predator readying itself to strike. He sensed nothing from him at all, which wasn’t anything new, but his instincts screamed at him this man was a deadly threat. That was different.

He

was different.
 
Instead of immediately freeing him, Kurosaki raised a hand to Grimmjow’s face, his hand resting against the bone mask on his jaw. Grimmjow didn’t even breathe, his eyes locked on Kurosaki’s, pupils blown wide in fear. Renji might have called the touch gentle, careful even, it contrasted so wildly with his body language. It seemed strange to him that an arrancar would fear his own king so much when he’d been so loyal, but he’d seen firsthand how brutal Kurosaki could be.
 
Renji counted the seconds, and by some unseen cue, Kurosaki eased, and Grimmjow let out a haggard breath.
 
When he drew his hand back, the Kido binding the arrancar was pulled with it, absorbed and shattered. Renji’s eyes widened, having no idea what he’d done. It seemed like he’d eaten the reishi, it was just

gone

.
 
Kurosaki’s voice was flat, breaking the silence. “You were going to kill my cat.”
 
“I ain’t your cat Kurosaki.” There was a roughness left over in his voice, but the arrancar looked deeply relieved to see him. Kurosaki turned, those golden eyes so distinctly hollow, he looked even less human that the arrancar beside him.There was a manic gleam in those eyes he hadn’t seen on anyone but Mayuri.
 
Kurosaki’s lips turned up into a small smile at the forced indignation in Grimmjow’s voice, not in the least bit concerned by the hostile shinigami around him. Darkness surged around both of them in a circle, a flash of it cutting through the sekkiseki cuffs. They fell in pieces to the sand with a hollow thud.
 
Sand. Renji hadn’t even noticed, but that moved too, drawn in a circular current with the dark. He’d never seen anything like it before, but it looked distinctly defensive.
 
Yamamoto stated plainly. “The Soul King is dead.”
 
Renji’s eyes widened, a ripple of surprise passing over the room. He’d been told his entire life that that Soul King held life as they knew it together. If he was dead...he didn’t know, but he was afraid what that could mean.
 
Smile widening, Kurosaki said, “Yeah, I killed it.” The sand swirled around him in streams, then abruptly rippled outwards in a forceful wave, throwing just about everyone off balance. Every Captain had their sword drawn but Yamamoto, the sand had parted around him leaving him untouched. It splashed against the walls, a spiderweb of cracks splintering them, and the walls and ceiling were suddenly culled in strips, absorbed as reishi into Kurosaki.
 
Renji scrambled to his feet and could only stare in wide-eyed fear. The arrancar wasn’t lying, Kurosaki might as well be a God, he wasn’t even sure Yamamoto’s fire could do anything against him.
 
Kurosaki flexed his hands, claws catching the light, and looked pointedly at his handiwork. Despite the aggressive look on his face, he sounded distracted. “Confined spaces make me nervous.”
 
Toshiro’s reiatsu rose, preparing to release his Zanpakuto, and a condensed spike shot from the sand, stopping just short of impaling him through the throat. Kurosaki made a chiding sound. “I wouldn’t.” Toshiro’s swallowed, and slowly lowered his sword, the tip scraping the surface of the sand. The spike lost shape, collapsing like a sandcastle in the surf, and Toshiro’s didn’t try again, no one dared.
 
He lifted his hand palm up, Grimmjow’s sword materializing in his hand beneath a thin layer of darkness. He passed it over his shoulder to the arrancar and Grimmjow gratefully put it back into place at his waist, watching the captains warily. He hadn’t been nervous before, but now that Kurosaki was present, he was suddenly concerned?
 
Yamamoto didn’t seem rattled, but the look on his face chilled Renji to the bone. He said, “You have committed a very grievous crime, gaki.”
 
Kurosaki drawled, “You have no power over me. I’m here to talk, but Grimmjow is right, if you kill what’s mine, I won’t want to talk anymore.”
 
“Is that a threat?” asked Yamamoto.
 
“Yes.” His voice held no room for negotiation. Kurosaki’s expression darkened, his smile turning grim. “I think my offer is generous, after all Soul Society has done.”
 
Toshiro snapped. “What

we’ve

done?! You’re an overpowered thug, a-”
 
“Taicho! You will hold your tongue.” Yamamoto’s grip tightened on his cane, and he didn’t take his eyes from Kurosaki.
 
Kurosaki continued for him, amused. “A tyrant, a warlord,

a monster?

” His shoulders shook with quiet laughter that rattled the nerves of everyone present, including his own arrancar. He was different, he seemed leagues more unstable than he had before. Rukia admitted to talking with him, she said he seemed fine. This didn’t look fine.
 
Kurosaki purred, “That’s alright, Soul Society never liked me much. You were always watching, listening, herding me towards your own ends.” He shrugged loosely, then startled Renji with sudden rage. “NO! Not anymore! No one tells me what to do!”
 
Renji felt a twist in his heart, pain he recognized as pity. From the twist in his words, it sounded like Kurosaki didn’t believe that, and he was fighting like hell to convince himself. He felt sorry for him, remembering that despite his power, he’d been dragged into this as nothing more than a kid. He might be strong, but he was

young

.
 
His eyes flicked down to Grimmjow’s hand when he gripped the visored’s shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough to bunch the fabric of his kosode. Kurosaki cut his rant short, swallowing his words. Renji suddenly realized why the arrancar was there, why he’d risked his life when Kurosaki had plenty of power to spare. He was his friend.
 
The visored let out a sharp exhale, he didn’t even look at Grimmjow, but that simple touch calmed that manic rage more than Renji thought was possible. It was so easy to write him off as a threat, a monster, but Renji had seen Grimmjow’s loyalty personally. It was

earned

, not bred from any kind of fear or threat. Grimmjow

liked

Kurosaki.
 
Kurosaki closed his eyes, just for a second, but when he opened them, they were sharp. He said, “I’m not here to negotiate. I’m here to tell you what’s going to happen.”
 
Yamamoto lifted his staff, the wood around it destroyed in a ripple from his hand, revealing his zanpakuto. “I don’t take orders or cave to demands.”
 
Kurosaki raised his brows. “Oh, you want to

fight

? I can

fight,

jii-san.”
 
Nobody moved. There was a short, painful moment of silence, filled only by the incessant whispering of disembodied voices. Kyoraku spoke up. “Mahhh, let’s take a step back. What is it you want, Kurosaki-san?”
 
Yamamoto shot him an acid filled look, but he didn’t tell him to shut the fuck up, so his words were still valid.
 
Kurosaki chuckled, looking down at his claws, then his eyes flicked up. “What I want? You might not like me, or want to deal with me, but I’m all you’ve got.” He twirled his finger in a circle motion, and all the sand shifted under their feet. Renji staggered, than righted himself, his grip on the hilt of his sword slick with sweat. Renji couldn’t see it, but he had a feeling all of the sand in Seireitei moved with it. “The Soul King is gone, there’s a void in geisterwelt. You came up with a temporary fix to a larger problem.” Kurosaki threw his arms out for dramatic effect. “Where is it?”
 
Renji didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, and from the look on his arrancar’s face, he was lost too.
 
Yamamoto said nothing, so Kurosaki carried on. “I didn’t realize until I killed your golden calf. Your God is

missing

, it has been for centuries. Did you think everything was

fine

?” Kurosaki started to pace, gesturing vaguely at the air around him, his tone flippant. “They aren’t making much sense, but you hear them, don’t you?”
 
Renji could only assume he meant the creepy whispering and howling that came from both everywhere and nowhere. “They want balance

,”

he gestured to himself to emphasize.

“I

want balance.”
 
Yamamoto finally spoke. “The Soul King was serving its purpose, destroying it raises more problems than it solves.”
 
Kurosaki growled, “You fed it the Quincy, do you have any idea the problems

that

caused?” He paused like one of them might answer. “No, probably not.”
 
Kyoraku said, “The Quincy were destroying hollows.”
 
“So you decide to kill them all.” Kurosaki’s tone turned mocking. “What’s the saying? The road to hell is paved with good intentions?”
 
“You could say the same of yourself,” said Yamamoto.
 
“Yeah, yeah, hypocrite, I know.” Kurosaki spoke dismissively, he didn’t even argue it.
 
As he paced, Yamamoto raised his hand to the hilt of his Zanpakuto. Kurosaki waved a hand and the sand moved with it in warning. “Nooo, not here. You might be willing to sacrifice your own, but I’m not. Draw your sword and

I will

bury Seireitei.” Despite the threat, Kurosaki’s eyes wandered, never settling, like he was searching for something. “What will it be Yama-jii? Pride, or duty?”
 
The soutaicho’s grip on his sword tightened, but it remained in its sheath. “I do not respond to blackmail and threats with respect and courtesy. You are a ryoka trespasser, nothing more.”
 
That drew all of Kurosaki’s attention. He stopped, looking back, and the silence made Renji’s skin crawl. “That’s all? You think you traded one evil for another, don’t you?” A breathy laugh escaped him, a hysterical sound, and he lifted a clawed finger to his temple, tapping it gently. “Aizen’s here too, he was a host-I know exactly what he would do to you, to aaaaallll of you.”
 
He started that relentless pacing again, and Renji noticed how closely Grimmjow was watching him. Something Kurosaki had said was bothering him, but Renji had no idea what that could be, all of it sounded insane to him. Kurosaki sounded adamant. “There

must

be a host. If not me, then another. Both Aizen and Adaliz were going to hopscotch straight over this part and get right into the genocide; you got lucky with me. You can work with me, or against me, but you can’t

stop

me.”
 
Yamamoto asked, “What is it, exactly, that you want from Soul Society? You don’t take an entire city hostage for no reason.”
 
Kurosaki snorted. “There’s a reason. I don’t trust you. You don’t even look out for your own.”
 
“That is a

steep

accusation,” snapped Byakuya. Renji agreed, although he was wary of Soul Society. Already they had come so close to killing his best friend, he didn’t trust them much either, but he kept it to himself.
 
“You’ve forgotten the visored already? Don’t worry, they remember you.” Kurosaki’s voice was tinged in disappointment Renji didn’t think he was faking. He carried on, his tone light. “I want you all to stop keeping secrets. If you don’t start working with me, Seireitei will collapse.”
 
“Is it not foolish to trust the one that tore our foundation out from under us to fix it?” asked Yamamoto.
 
Kurosaki’s expression grew pained, but his reaction didn’t seem to stem from Yamamoto’s accusations. “I really didn’t have a choice, but that’s none of your concern.”
 
“Whom I decide to trust with the future of Seireitei is my concern!” bellowed Yamamoto.
 
The darkness around Kurosaki shivered then condensed into a solid sphere as a lance of Kidō shattered across the surface, momentarily blinding him. Renji raised his arms to guard against the shards of reishi that glanced off the shield, feeling the sting as one cut straight through his shoulder. He noticed Byakuya had raised a Kido shield, defending them both. He twisted, looking over his shoulder as he followed the trail of destruction. The largest deflected shards had cut straight through buildings, leaving clean lines where the power had bisected them.
 
Byakuya’s shield crumbled, and Renji looked back, eyes wide.The darkness settled around Kurosaki’s feet, and he looked deeply annoyed, yet unharmed. “If I hadn’t had the foresight to block and absorb that, my fraccion would be dead. Your own shinigami could be dead.” Kurosaki’s eyes settled briefly on Renji’s and he shivered under the attention.
 
“A calculated risk,” Yamamoto said coldly.
 
“

Predictable

,” accused Kurosaki. There was a sudden explosion of sand directly before Kurosski. Renji flinched, everyone present was startled, save for Yamamoto. The dust settled, and Renji got a good look at a bloodied Soifon...bloodied, but breathing. He could only imagine she was the one that had tried to kill Kurosaki, and from the looks of that Kido, she’d had help from more than one captain putting that together.
 
Kurosaki’s hollow buzzed into sight before Kurosaki with sonido, crouching down to pick Soifon up by the haori. He was the splitting image of the viored, but an eerie monochrome, and the look in his eyes was decidedly more manic and sadistic. He lifted her up and she groaned, unconscious. Kurosaki threw his arms out. “Did you honestly think I’d leave myself wide open?”
 
His hollow bared his teeth in a sneer. “I’m a little insulted. They didn’t try half as hard as they did against Aizen. Maybe

we’re

not trying hard enough?” Kurosaki didn’t audibly say anything, but his hollow reacted as if he had. “Whatever, King. I’m getting real sick and tired of watching the people you’re busting your ass to protect TRY TO ASSASSINATE YOU!” He threw Soifon at them like a ragdoll and Kyoraku had the foresight to catch her, sliding back on his heels from the force of it.
 
Renji winced, aware that it was only days ago that she’d been beaten unconscious, and getting thrown into the ground that hard, she had to have at least cracked ribs. He had to reason with himself; at least she wasn’t dead. He couldn’t help but picture a kitten in the claws of that monster. Soifon was as strong as any captain, but Kurosaki hadn’t even needed to move to block that attack, and he’d done it with his Zanpakuto materialized, and only to protect the arrancar with him.
 
Kurosaki’s eyes burned with fire, enough to send a chill jolting up Renji’s spine. The visored looked at them as if he was weighing their worth, his tone flat. “I don’t like it much either.”
 
Yamamoto took notice, drawing his sword halfway before Grimmjow’s hand snapped out for Kurosaki’s wrist. Yamamoto paused when the visored turned away to look at the arrancar. A thousand unspoken words seemed to pass between them. That deadly look faded, and when Kurosaki turned back to Yamamoto, Renji was fucking glad that arrancar was still alive to pull him off the proverbial ledge. “If you’re done trying to kill me, can we finally talk?”
 
Yamamoto scoffed, hand still tight on his sword. “Do you really think I would tell you if that was our only attempt?”
 
Kurosaki huffed, “By all means then, keep trying, it doesn’t make a bit of difference.” He lifted his left hand, clenching his hand into a claw. The sand beneath him stiffened like daggers. Every shinigami present tensed, expecting an attack. The corners smoothed, forming...a map. Renji was surprised, he fully expected an attack.
 
Kurosaki asked, “Do you know what you’re looking at?”
 
Yamamoto glanced down, then answered as if it were a trick question. “The three realms.”
 
Renji looked again, and noted the small, extremely accurate representation of Seireitei in one of the sections. He had no idea how he’d managed such an accurate map, but the visored didn’t linger on that fact. Kurosaki strode up to his model, the highest point on his map not any higher than his shin, and he crouched, gesturing. “Notice how small Soul Society is. The Rukongai is sprawling, but the highest concentration of reishi is right here.” He pointed up at the sky carelessly. “Because no more is being created. Has it never concerned you that no shinigami stronger than you has come forward?” Yamamoto was silent. ”Soul Society is starved.”
 
Kurosaki rolled his fingers in a gesture, his map shifting so the edge of Soul Society was right before him. He pointed at the line in the sand between Soul Society and Living world. “

This

. What happened? I don’t want lies, I want the truth. The line between Soul Society and the other worlds, is blurring. Think the worst of me, I don’t care, but I don’t want this erosion. This was happening centuries before I came along, your God has been missing for some time. You did a half decent job filling the gap, but it isn’t good enough.” Authority leaked into his voice. “Tell me what happened.”
 
Yamamoto frowned down at the model of sand, and finally spoke. “What led you to believe I have more information than you do?”
 
Kurosaki let a small chuckle slip. “You’re my best shot, Yama-jii.” He inclined his head. “And I’m your best shot to fix it. I

had

to kill the Soul King, but fuck if I’m going to let that space remain empty. I can’t.”
 
God save all of them if Kurosaki was their best bet. He was a stone's throw short of a river on his best day, and he had power enough to destroy Seireitei in his sleep.
 
“You speak as if your actions are not your own.” Yamamoto said.
 
Kurosaki’s eyes narrowed and he straightened, wiping away his scale model with a swipe of his hand. “I’m trying, Yama-jii,

I’m trying

. If you really don’t understand, I can show you.” He raised his hands again, taking a few steps away from his arrancar, and his inner spirit. They seemed deeply unhappy by this decision, but a stern look shut up whatever protest they were about to make.
 
Darkness swam over his skin like oil, bony hands reaching from the darkness to cling to his shihakusho, his skin, his hair. Digging in like steel barbs, they sunk into his soul, but Kurosaki didn’t flinch. “I won’t lie to you, my actions are

not

my own...Alteza has my body, and die Konigin has my heart.“
 
With a snap of his fingers, the darkness dispersed. He dropped his arms, still tense, and Renji realized it wasn’t the tension of a hunter, not at its core. It was the posture of someone hurting, defensive, scared. He felt a wash of shame. Kurosaki was a human, his death was recent. What the fuck had gone wrong for him to fear shinigami so resolutely, that asking them for help tore him to pieces, that it came to this? That wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
 
Renji remembered what it was like to be at the bottom, to wish he was at the top. He’d fought and scrapped and stole and finally...finally his goal was within reach. Kurosaki was at the top, and what did he have from them all? Hatred, fear, mistrust, and how had he returned the favor? Retaliation, defense, sacrifice.
 
Kurosaki

did not

enjoy being the host for these things, the look in his eyes was of someone accepting of their fate, but far from thrilled about it.
 
Renji looked to Yamamoto, looking for some reason they should hold Kurosaki as the villain, because he was having a hard time seeing it. He saw a scared, angry, fucking powerful kid, thrown into a position of power. He wasn’t half bad at wielding it, but that he should have to at all was their fault.

They

did this.
 
They made this kid their scapegoat, and look what it had done to him.
 
Kurosaki kept speaking, his voice low. “My family is still alive, all I want is to fix this. What other proof do you need?”
 
Yamamoto moved, sliding his sword back into its sheath with a final sounding click. “Show me your resolve, Kurosaki.”
 
The look in his eyes darkened. “What more do you want from me? I’ve held back, I haven’t killed your captains, or your lieutenants. If it were up to me, I’d never have to see you again. No offense.”
 
Yamamoto said, “Remove these sands, and then,

maybe

we can talk.”
 
Kurosaki’s hollow laughed even while Kurosaki gave a stiff shake of his head. “No...no I don’t think so.”
 
“Would

you

be willing to negotiate in good faith with a sword at your throat?”
 
“Good faith,” he sneered. “Says the man hell bent on assassinating me.”
 
Yamamoto’s voice held an air of finality. “Then we are at an impasse.”
 
Kurosaki grit his teeth in annoyance, hands clenching into fists, and to Renji’s surprise, Grimmjow intervened. “Don’t play games. If he kills you, I’m the one that’s got to clean up the mess.” It didn’t sound like a good cop bad cop routine to Renji, it sounded like Grimmjow was desperate.
 
Renji took a sharp step back when Kurosaki’s eyes settled on him with angry decisiveness. He didn’t like that look at all. Kurosaki growled. “You’re in no position to bargain.” His tone lightened a touch. “I’ll be back.”
 
In a sudden twist of agony, darkness collapsed in around him, invading his insides and overloading his senses. He didn’t even realize he was on the ground until he sucked in a breath in pain, hacking on his own bile. “Gross…” he muttered, and finally took in his surroundings. Arguing, that was what he registered first, the second, was that he was no longer on sand, but stone. His brows furrowed, tuning in to the voices above him as he reached for Zabimaru. “...had to bring a fucking lieutenant with you.”
 
“I won’t kill

him

.”
 
Renji thought that was strange emphasis to put on a word, and looking up, he saw Grimmjow, Kurosaki, and his doppelgänger hovering only feet away. He pitched to his feet, his stance wide open and pathetic, but he was standing. He tried to lift Zabimaru, but his arms wouldn’t stop shaking. He demanded, “Where am I?”
 
Grimmjow gestured grandly, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Welcome to Las

fucking

Noches.”
 
Kurosaki’s hollow rolled his eyes. “I don’t see why

you’re

so angry about it.”
 
Renji struggled to put two and two together, swaying on his feet. “Wait! Why the fuck am I in-am I a hostage?”
 
Kurosaki snorted. “Get over yourself, I wasn’t done talking and you’re easy to deal with.”
 
Renji brandished his sword, thought better of it, and leaned on it instead. “If you weren’t done, why not stay and finish

chatting

?”
 
His eyes darkened a shade, and Renji swallowed. “Because I won’t kill you, but that doesn’t extend to anyone else but Rukia.”
 
Renji took a step back, still classifying Kurosaki as a dangerous stranger. One that saved Rukia, but this was a different person, and now he was stuck here with him.
 
Kurosaki pretended not to notice his discomfort, and Renji noticed Grimmjow struggle with saying something he didn’t seem comfortable with saying in front of an outsider. Kurosaki beat him to it, like he read his fucking mind. “I’m fine, Grimmjow.”
 
“Really? What about all that shit you were worried about?”
 
A hysterical laugh escaped Kurosaki, but he bit down on it. “All happened...I’m sorry I was late.”
 
Something occurred to Grimmjow, and he asked, “Why were you late?”
 
Kurosaki’s expression faltered, unwilling to answer, but his hollow spoke for him. “He forgot who he was.”
 
Alarm flashed across Grimmjow’s face, then anger. “That doesn’t sound

fine

to me.”
 
Renji got the sense that he was completely forgotten. If he was going to try to run, now would be the time, but he figured it was really pointless to try on their home turf, and he didn’t think his legs could carry him. He took a step back, testing that theory, and his hollow stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit tight, shinigami.”
 
Kurosaki said, “Compared to what could have happened, this is…” he searched for the word, “better.”
 
Grimmjow nodded in mock agreement. “OH, okay, then I must be the idiot here, because sudden onset

amnesia

and Gods up your

ass

seems like a

bad thing

! Enlighten me,

please

.”
 
“Ya don’t gotta be such a prick about it,” said the doppelgänger. Grimmjow didn’t look apologetic in the slightest. This was different than what Renji expected. He might have thought the pair might have been more like...he wasn’t sure. Aggressive? It

was

aggressive, but Kurosaki was less violent than he would have thought. At least towards this arrancar, clearly that invitation didn’t extend to anyone else.
 
Kurosaki said, “I could have forgotten permanently. I could have left you to get pulled apart like a lab rat, but that didn’t happen.”
 
The arrancar looked a little sick at the notion, but something about what Kurosaki said changed his tone to be a touch softer. “So what

did

happen?” asked Grimmjow.
 
Kurosaki glanced at Renji, and for a moment, he thought he would cut him out of it, but he didn’t, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. “To answer that, I need to start at the core of the problem.” The visored looked straight up, and every floor between him and the roof of this place parted like water. Renji couldn’t help it, he looked up, and he immediately regretted it.
 
“What the fuck is that?” Renji’s voice wavered, as did his legs, but the hollow’s iron grip on his shoulder kept him upright.
 
Grimmjow answered grimly, “Alteza.”
 
It looked like claws scraping the sky, so massive they filled his vision. He cringed back on instinct, recalling the dark hands sinking into the visored. He doubled over and threw up.
 
Kurosaki still sounded conversational, it was eerie. “So you can see it too? I thought so, but I wasn’t sure.”
 
Renji lifted his arm to his mouth, and the hollow hauled him back to his feet. Grimmjow stared at Kurosaki in understanding, and Renji felt a little better, because the arrancar looked just as ill as he felt. “This is what you’ve been looking at?” He looked back up. “Fuck…”
 
Renji didn’t look up again, he didn’t want to. He ventured, “You aren’t going to kill me now that I know all this shit, right?”
 
Kurosaki sucked in a hissing breath of annoyance. “This has never been a secret, Soul Society won’t listen. So pay attention, I’m sick of repeating myself.”
 
Renji swallowed thickly and asked, “Those hands, the ones on you, what was that? Yamamoto knew.”
 
“I’m Alteza’s host, my soul isn’t mine. It’s always there, I just let you see it. It isn’t quite so literal, but there’s only so much we can perceive.”
 
Renji didn’t expect Kurosaki to pause to let him ask questions. He licked his lips, thinking hard on what to ask, but he was simply confused. “Okay...what does that

mean

?”
 
Grimmjow growled, the sound not entirely human. “It means he’s that thing’s slave.”
 
Kurosaki closed his eyes through a sigh, but didn’t deny it. He said, “Alteza and die Konigin can influence my actions. I had to kill the Soul King, and now I have to continue, they won’t let me stop.”
 
Renji’s eyes widened. “There’s two…”
 
The hollow answered impatiently, “Inside King?

Yes

.”
 
Renji backtracked, recalling what Kurosaki just said, “Continue? Continue what?”
 
“Waking them up.”
 
Renji stared at him, uncomprehending. “Wait..wait..I don’t..” He glanced up, and felt a rush of fear. Wake...that? He looked away, sweat clinging to his skin. “I don’t understand. Why the fuck would you want to wake them up?”
 
“Look at this place,” Kurosaki said, “Look at the Rukongai, at living world. Does that seem stable to you?” He went on with a metaphor, one Grimmjow paid careful attention to, which made Renji think this was his first time hearing this too. “The Quincy are a part of die Konigin, just as much as hollows are a part of Alteza. Shinigami are the balance, but whatever God created the shinigami is gone…”
 
Kurosaki continued, “Soul Society saw an imbalance of souls, and in desperate bid to fix it, the shinigami killed the Quincy, they used them to try to fill the gap that was left behind by your God’s absence. The Quincy weren’t

destroying

hollows, you simply couldn’t sense what they became.
 
“Without Quincy returning to die Konigin, Seireitei flourished, for a time. More soul hungry Hollows were born to fill the space left behind, don’t tell me Soul Society hasn’t noticed how many there are? Without the power to evolve, more and more young hollows cropped up seeking human souls. Without Alteza, a hollow won’t have the instinct to feed off of other hollows to evolve. There’s a reason vasto lorde are so rare, and it isn’t a good thing.
 
He paused long enough for Grimmjow to give his two cents. “Why

the fuck

didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
 
Kurosaki’s answer was oddly casual. “Because I didn’t know.” Renji looked between them, trying to understand the depth in that statement, but Kurosaki wasn’t done. “Aizen, Mictan, Adaliz, their memories,

their souls

, are

loud

. There’s others, shades of what they were, I don’t know their names, but they’re here too.”
 
Grimmjow swore under his breath, turning a slow circle. This information didn’t appear to be anything new to the arrancar, but the confirmation clearly stressed him even more than he already was, and he already looked like so much as a sneeze would startle him. He asked, “So...what made you remember who you are?”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
The question was expected, he kept stalling, and Ichigo had hoped he wouldn’t have to answer. He could remember it so clearly. Enough that it still shook him. Confusion, anger, pain, loss…
 
He killed the Soul King and dumped himself right back into Soul Society, someplace in the Rukongai he thought was safe, but he didn’t think he’d ever been before. He’d spent nearly an hour trembling in the dark, with no one to assuage his fears besides his Zanpakuto. He glanced at Renji, then away, feeling a twinge of shame. He didn’t want him to hear this, but they already thought he was a monster, would it hurt for the shinigami to know? He swallowed the feeling, and decided Renji wasn’t the type to use his fears against him. He never had in the past, and he saw no reason that should change now.
 
He looked back at Grimmjow and told him part of the truth. “I thought you were dead. They put those cuffs on you, and it didn’t just block reiatsu, it blocked my connection to la sangre. You were gone from my senses, and my first reaction was amusement, the second was a memory. I remembered killing you, I felt the scrape of the blade on your bones-I liked it, it was fun to watch you give up, to watch you suffer.” He could see it; the blood staining his jacket, black and wet, spilling onto stark white sand. “I wanted to see the despair in Kurosaki’s eyes...on

me.”

There was too much going on in his head, it wasn’t too different from devouring a hollow, but this was harder to separate from reality. It was real, it felt like him and it didn’t go away, and all that separated him from those memories and urges now was Zangetsu and Grimmjow.
 
He let out a ragged breath, remembering how close he’d come to trying to kill himself. He reached for his own throat, rubbing away the sensation of steel biting into flesh. He couldn’t forget the press of it, or the desperation in Zangetsu’s voice. He hadn’t considered he could actually die, he just wanted it all to stop.
 
He didn’t want Grimmjow to know, he was too ashamed to tell him of his complete and utter failure. He felt Zangetsu’s undercurrent of panic even now.

So close to failure

.
 
Dropping his hand, Kurosaki stole a glance at Grimmjow. The arrancar could see he wasn’t telling him everything, he knew, he couldn’t lie to Grimmjow anymore. He said, “I reached for the darkness in your heart and I found nothing. I remembered you dead, I killed you, I found you? I didn’t know what was real, but I felt...wrong, so I went to find you. I went to where I...where Aizen...where

Aizen

killed you, but that was wrong, wrongwrongwrong.”
 
He lifted his hand to his arm, digging his claws into his wrist deep enough to draw blood. Pain was real, this was real. He twisted his grip and said, “I remembered where I sensed you last; I found you in Soul Society. I touched your heart, and I remembered.”
 
Grimmjow looked distraught, pushing for a real answer. “What was it that made you remember?” He just stared at him, waiting for an answer. Kurosaki looked down at the blood dripping down his arm, but didn’t let go. “You were happy to see me, you trusted me, you looked at me like you

know

me.” He spoke slowly, carefully. “So I read your heart and I remembered.”
 
He remembered fighting him, fighting

with

him, he remembered the pain in Grimmjow’s heart, the pain in his own when he found him dead. Those feelings were his own, no one else’s. His eyes flicked across to Renji. “I need the Gods to wake up, the burden is all on me, and I can’t do this alone, there’s only one of me, and I can’t only do so much.”
 
Renji took a step back, straight into his hollow, and flinched, forgetting he was there at all. He looked a touch overwhelmed, but he saw sympathy there, and he needed all the sympathy he could get. Renji said, “You want me to make your case for you...what makes you think I won’t argue against you? You sound really fucking crazy-” He winced under Zangetsu’s tightened grip on his shoulder, glancing back, then cautiously continued, “...but I don’t think you’re lying to me.”
 
Ichigo twisted his hand, removing his claws from his arm. It healed instantly, and he wished it hadn’t. “I didn’t only bring you because you’re someone I knew, you’re from the Rukongai.”
 
Renji’s face twisted into an irritated grimace. “So you think you can manipulate me?”
 
“I won’t pretend that didn’t play a part in my decision.” Renji seemed surprised he didn’t deny it. He lifted a claw to his temple, reminding him. “Aizen’s in here too, and you’re an easy target.” Renji was weak, he could be ignored or used, but that wasn’t him making those conjectures, it was the press of Aizen’s soul on his own. “

My

reasons for bringing you are different. You don’t know me, but I remember you, and even if I didn’t, you were ready to die to save Rukia, you’ve already gone against Soul Society based on your better judgement.”
 
“So what do you want from me?” demanded Renji.

“You should have taken the risk and brought Byakuya instead. At least that fucker is a captain.”

Ichigo glanced at Zangetsu, silently noting his concerns. Renji was only a lieutenant, he got emotional, Byakuya didn’t. While it was a gamble that Renji would sway the way he hoped, Byakuya’s honor would have been in the way. Rukia was a last resort, and he didn’t want her to see him like this. Selfishness won in the end, as it most often did.
 
Ichigo said, “Nothing. I’m not going to tell you what to do, and I can’t make you trust me, but I can tell you the truth, and let you make up your own mind.” At least as much as he could bare to. “Now, I’m going to send you back, before anyone can entertain the thought that the big, scary visored has corrupted their lieutenant.”
 
He knew Renji was probably already in hot water for taking his side early on, and taking him over another shinigami probably didn’t inspire confidence, but he just couldn’t be bothered to care that much. He moved too quickly for Renji to track, resting his hand on his shoulder. Renji flinched back into Zangetsu, watching him nervously. “Good luck.”
 
“Wait-”
 
He sent him back to the exact place he’d taken him from, that should be good enough. Once he was done vomiting and shaking he could tell them everything he deemed necessary. Depending on what Renji said, it could all go to hell, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less.
 
Looking across to Zangetsu, he let what little defenses he had crumble. He didn’t look back at Grimmjow, he didn’t want to remember the fear in his eyes, and he wasn’t sure he could handle any more judgement. “You really thought I was going to kill you?”
 
Grimmjow made an exasperated sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t give me that, you didn’t recognize me...not really.” Shame for feeling fear and shame for causing it, this was so pointless. Grimmjow asked, “Can you really feel Aizen?”
 
Feel him? He still wasn’t sure how to explain it. “It’s strange...evolving a hollow is different, it’s everything at once, then it fades, it doesn’t cling like tar. It’s hard to explain...it feels like

me

. I know it isn’t because that’s what I tell myself. I know what I’m supposed to say, think, but it feels like a sham. I’m not sadistic,

Kurosaki Ichigo

doesn’t enjoy suffering. That’s Aizen, that isn’t me.” His voice broke. “I feel it anyway.”
 
Ichigo knew there were responsibilities and expectations resting on his shoulders, but he needed to stop for a moment, before he shut down completely. He was going through the motions, but was it real? He felt hatred towards Renji, but that could be from anyone; Adaliz, Mictlan, shinigami weren’t popular. The urge to

use

him, that was all Aizen, all of it. What hurt the most was the self loathing. That was him, it had to be.
 
Rather than risk catching him off guard, Grimmjow circled around to face him. Zangetsu was still hovering close enough to touch, and he watched Grimmjow with caution. Searing blue eyes caught his own, he felt the desire to hurt him, kill him, but none of those feelings were his...he didn’t think they were. He made an aggravated sound and turned away, but Grimmjow stopped him short, his hand tight on his wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”
 
Those words echoed in his soul, gripping tight a memory of rage and pain and hatred.
 
He didn’t think, he only acted. His hand gripped Grimmjow’s jaw, squeezing tight enough over his mouth for his bones to creak. He lifted him from the ground, the arrancar’s fingers digging into his forearm. He snarled, “ShutupshutupSHUTUP!” There was no fear in the arrancar’s eyes now, only steely determination. He squeezed harder, watching him suffocate with a nauseating combination of distress, anger, and satisfaction.
 
He felt his heart race through la sangre, he felt his reiatsu struggle in vain against his own. Like a caught mouse, they all squirmed before they died. Nonono, this wasn’t prey, this was...who was he to him, who cared if he was dead?
 
His grip weakened on his arm, then went slack, his fingers trailing roughly from his shihakusho. Why did that hurt so much? He watched him fight for consciousness, his eyes rolling back in his head. Tears were cold and damp on his cheeks, he felt Zangetsu’s hand twisting his kosode, pulling him back, and he only had one thing to say to him.

“Who is it you want to protect, king?”

He abruptly dropped the arrancar, he collapsed in a heap and didn’t try to get up. He watched him cough and gasp for breath, and Ichigo was left wondering why he’d done it, and why he’d stopped.
 
The need to distance himself only grew. He backed into Zangetsu, startled, and spun, claws outstretched to kill. Zangetsu matched his speed, caught him, and threw him face down. He grimaced, twisting in his hold, his horn carving a screeching line in the ground. Zangetsu held his head down with all his strength, there wasn’t any room to move at all. There was no anger behind his attacks, it was thoughtless instinct.
 
From where Zangetsu had him pinned, he could see Grimmjow. He just laid there on his back and breathed. The very fact he was alive filled him with relief. Wait...he’d done that, he was going to-He froze when those electric blue eyes settled on him. Still no fear, no judgement...he looked...sad. Between rattling breaths, he rasped, “Why...the fuck..are

you

cryin’...

I’m

the one...that almost died.”
 
Was he? Ichigo couldn’t stand that look on his face. He would have preferred rage...that’s right, he would have, he hated pity. Didn’t he? The only thing he knew belonged to him was Zangetsu. His power, his disappointment, his distress. He’d almost killed Grimmjow, he’d wanted to, and he didn’t even know why.
 
He raked his claws over the ground and he clenched his teeth through a scream. It degraded into a sob, his hand tightening into a fist. He thrashed to free himself, and rather than let him go, Zangetsu rearranged his hold, trapping him against his chest. He fought like hell, but Zangetsu was just strong enough to hold him back.
 
He cried and Zangetsu held him, his grip on him painful. Pain was real, and his heart

ached

. Everything he feared he’d ever become was sinking into his soul and he couldn’t stop it. He just wanted it to stop. “I can’t do this, Zangetsu,

I can’t

.”
 
Zangetsu held him tighter, he panicked, and sleep swam into his senses. Kidō, he should have known...

--- xxx ---
 
Zangetsu
 
He knew better than anyone how precarious King’s mind was. His mind had been in shambles for awhile, but without meaning to, Grimmjow had riled Kurosaki up into a frenzy. He forced him to sleep, and he didn’t let him go, not even when he finally relaxed. He held him tight, the chaos in his soul never settling. He was losing him, not by inches, but by miles.
 
He could handle the dissociating, the nightmares, the panic, but this

confusion

,

this madness

was eating him alive, and he could do nothing to stop it.
 
“Can you fix this?”
 
He’d almost forgotten the arrancar was there. Zangetsu looked up at him, surprised to see so much pain in his eyes. He gave a damn, and he wasn’t sure when that had happened. “I don’t know.”
 
Grimmjow stared down at King, completely lost. “How bad is it, really? Don’t lie to me.”
 
Zangetsu laughed, his grip on King constricting. He was so,

so

close to losing him.
 
Ossan manifested himself when it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, he was in a better frame of mind anyway. He stood just behind him, his tone carefully even, but his distress was just as plain to him as his own. “Ichigo...was not in his right mind. He still is not.He attempted to drive his own sword through his throat.”
 
Grimmjow let out a sound so full of distress, Zangetsu looked up, watching him run shaking hands through his hair. “Why didn’t he fucking tell me?” He didn’t seem to be asking anyone in particular, they all knew why. Pride, shame, and everything in between.
 
The arrancar glared up at the sky in hate, lifting his hand to his jaw with a wince when he tried to clench his teeth. He was surprised Kurosaki hadn’t broken it, but it seemed like he’d come close, and the arrancar no more held it against him than he might the bite of a frightened animal. He looked back at them both. “You stopped him...so you could stop him again.”
 
Ossan made a frustrated sound, looking upwards. “Alteza and die Konigin would not let him die so easily, but you put too much faith in us, arrancar. That Ichigo has surrendered so much control to us to begin with is unsound, things should not be this way.” He dropped his head, watching the arrancar for a long stretch. “It isn’t certain what set him off or what brought him back, we simply don’t know. Something you said or did triggered a reaction volatile enough that his own soul was buried. His unpredictable nature will only serve to strain tensions, this can’t go on.”
 
“No shit,” muttered Zangetsu.
 
Ossan continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m not sure if you know this, arrancar, but you’re very important to our wielder.”
 
Grimmjow snorted, pushing his hair back. “Hell if I know why.” He’d had a long night, most of his hair had fallen into his face, and nearly being killed looked like it had given him a monster of a headache.
 
Zangetsu let out a disgusted sound, but his voice betrayed his mental exhaustion. “You accept him, koneko. All of him. There isn’t anyone else that can say that but his own Zanpakuto.”
 
Disbelief clouded his face. “That can’t be true.”
 
“I’m his hollow, I

am

him. People look at him like he’s a monster, and he is, but you know that’s not all there is to him.” He looked down at King, the stress showing on his face, despite the dreamless sleep. “This is kinda your fault, you know.”
 
Grimmjow sounded indignant. “

How

the fuck?”
 
Zangetsu shifted his weider in his arms, laying him down flat and said, “You don’t have to live with the self loathing when he tries to kill you. You’re breaking him.”
 
Grimmjow sighed. “What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?”
 
“Nothing,” said Ossan. “There’s a reason Ichigo is so solitary, he fears harming the people he loves.”
 
Grimmjow flushed red, caught off guard, blinked, then snapped, “He sure as shit doesn’t love me.”
 
Zangetsu made a rude noise. “There’s different kinds of love, shithead. Personally, I can’t stand you. One day you’ll die for real, and King will shatter.”
 
Grimmjow shifted, deeply uncomfortable, but unwilling to leave. “You don’t know that. I ain’t that weak.”
 
“And Kurosaki’s enemies aren’t either. We lived it. King doesn’t handle loss.” That was an understatement, they never wanted to see King like that again. He’d been used and beaten and broken and he was finally strong enough to stand at the top, only to be thrown back down again. What good was power if it didn’t matter?
 
Zangetsu sighed, sensing the growing gap between him and his wielder. He loathed Alteza and die Konigin both. He said, “King’s been running on fumes, he hasn’t slept at all. This should help.”
 
Grimmjow swore, crouching down beside King. He never looked at him like that when King was awake, he didn’t dare.  “Knocking him unconscious everytime he has an existential crisis isn’t sustainable...obviously.” He swiped a hand over his face, frowning down at King. “I need to go tell Harribel what the fuck is going on.”
 
He stood and hesitated, unwilling to leave Kurosaki’s side. Ossan reassured him. “We aren’t going anywhere, Grimmjow.”
 
The arrancar looked caught, then fleetingly guilty. He blurred into sonido, leaving the three alone.
 
Time passed, the whispers and that damn howling filling the silence, and Ossan felt his unease, he knew he did. He eventually spoke. “In the past, when Alteza discovered its host wasn’t functional, it relieved the burden.”
 
“You mean severing his soul sleep, muting his pain, driving him mad?!”
 
The other spirit didn’t flinch, far too used to his rage. “And yet Ichigo survives. These Gods seek their own benefit, they protect their host.”
 
“What are you suggesting?” Zangetsu demanded.
 
“We do things your way,” said Ossan.  Zangetsu stared at him blankly. “We take their host from them, we make them fix what they’ve started. Let him sleep, and sleep, and sleep.” He got a glimpse of Ossan’s anger in the list of his voice. It was a subtler thing than his own, but far more poisonous.
 
Zangetsu snorted, but it was a good idea. “If we did it my way, we’d be trying to kill those fuckers, not wake them up.”
 
Ossan’s voice was level, but there was the undercurrent of venom. “Risks are sometimes necessary, we do not have the luxury of waiting. Ichigo

will

kill someone if things continue this way.”
 
Zangetsu knew that all too well, and King didn’t react well to killing things when he wasn’t in his right mind.  “King can’t make a move until Soul Society gets their head out of their ass, he might as well keep sleeping. Awake, he’s a risk.” He asked, “There a reason you didn’t tell Blue?” Miserable sonuvabitch looked like he could use some hope.
 
“This is

our

decision to make, no one else’s. What do you want to do, hollow?”
 
That was what he liked to hear. It was a pointless question, Zangetsu had already made up his mind. He bared his teeth in anger. “

King is ours.

Let’s step on some motherfucking toes.”

--- xxx ---

Thanks for reading!
 
Jigokuchō: hell butterfly
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck

One week later
 
“Candice...please eat.”
 
The blonde frowned down at her plate, arms crossed, leaning back in her chair. They were sitting outdoors at a cafe, looking for all the world to be two tired tourists. The people that passed by on Neliel’s right filled the air with the murmur of French, Indian, and the occasional English.
 
Candice didn’t try to run anymore, finding her was all too easy now that she could sense a Quincy inside and out, and now she knew better than to cause a scene in public. She’d lit her napkin on fire at the first restaurant they’d gone to, escaping in the chaos, only to have Nel tackle her in the alley in her spirit form. Not pleasant memories. She didn’t like holding Candice prisoner, but she would be lying if she said she trusted anyone else to do it.
 
She’d wondered why Ichigo had changed his mind, or if this was always the plan. It felt intentional that he would have her be Candice’s keeper. Candice might not be friendly towards her but she was the only arrancar she wasn’t openly hostile towards.
 
At first, she questioned why they were hanging on to Candice at all, but she reasoned it out with a mental nudge from Harribel.
 
When it became clear they would have to bring her to and from Hueco Mundo since she was still very much alive and needed to eat, she’d had Kisuke amend her gigai. Currently, it only limited her reiatsu output by somewhere around a quarter of what it was once suppressing. That was enough to allow her to slow Candice down and capture her again, which was good enough.
 
Recently, she hadn’t spoken a word, and Nel found it to be disconcerting. She barely ate, spoke, or cooperated, and it felt like shit to be the cause. She nudged the plate closer, like that might solve the problem, and Candice didn’t react. Nel sighed, slumping back in her own chair to watch the crowds filer by. “I don’t get it, is this to punish

me

?” Candice struck her with an acid filled look. “Sounds selfish, I know, but what good does this do you?”
 
Fire burned in Candice’s eyes for the first time in days, and Nel almost smiled. That was a far cry from the hopeless look on her face only a few minutes ago. She dragged the chair closer with an abrasive screech of iron on concrete, then savagely tore into her sandwich. She ate like she was proving a point, but halfway through she seemed to forget what that point was, and she actually looked like she tasted it.
 
After not eating breakfast or dinner, it made Nel happy to see her eat again, even if she only did it to spite her. She ate everything on her plate, then threw her back against the chair and folded her arms, defiant again.
 
Nel smiled. “I can’t tell if you liked it or you were just hungry. I know you said you hate vingery things, I tried to pick something different.”
 
Candice hissed, “This isn’t a

date

, it doesn’t fucking matter.”
 
No matter how many times she said it, it still hurt. Nel smiled, but it was fake. “I know...”
 
“Why won’t you stop!” That earned them a few looks, and to Nel’s surprise, Candice shifted and tried again, her tone more conversational. “You keep smiling, you keep pretending everything is fine, and it’s not. Why are you even doing this? Being

nice

. You know what I did to those arrancar,” she leaned in, her tone scathing, “

I don’t regret any of it

.”
 
Nel’s heart sank. She did know, and she would never think to put Candice in a cage and treat her like that, but by treating Candice well by comparison, she wasn’t trying to rub her nose in it. “You can hate me, that’s fine...and maybe I am angry that you hurt our own, maybe it does make me sad that you think we’re all monsters...but I still like you.

I

know I’m not a monster, and I guess that should be enough.” She smiled again, but it was shaky. It

should

be enough, but it wasn’t. Selfish, selfish, selfish.
 
She refused to cry over something she had no control over. She took out the card Kisuke had given her, holding it up for the waitress. She took it from her, rushing off to retrieve their bill, and even after she returned with the bill Candice still hadn’t said anything.
 
The Quincy took her water from the table and chewed the straw more than she actually drank anything. She always ordered sparkling before, Nel noticed, so that’s what she always got for her now. She couldn’t help that she wanted Candice to be comfortable.
 
Candice asked, “How long is this going to go on? What am I even doing here?”
 
Her question was perfectly valid. No one had asked her to do anything other than remain in Hueco Mundo under their supervision. No questioning had happened, they didn’t want anything from the Quincy, it seemed entirely like they were h losing her for no reason.
 
Nel said, “I don’t suppose ‘because orders’, is a reasonable answer?” From the sour look on Candice’s face, it wasn’t. “Ichigo didn’t come right out and say it, but I think he just wants you to understand us.”
 
“I know how to kill you, what else do I need to know?” Her tone was just as scathing as Nel expected it to be.
 
Nel sighed, taking the card and putting it back in her pocket. She stood and said, “Come on, let’s go.”
 
Candice stood, shoving her chair in. She mocked, “Jaa,

meine Dame.

”
 
She knew Candice was trying to get under her skin, and she was, but she didn’t take the bait. She left the cafe, making sure she followed behind. There was an apartment here she’d been renting, pathetically small, but Kisuke let her keep it, it wasn’t like she had a dime to her name.
 
Candice didn’t say anything as they walked back, a chill biting the shadowed streets they walked back. Candice’s boots marked a steady clack on the cobblestones. Everything about her was loud, her hair, her voice, her personality, even her goddamned shoes. It should have been annoying, but for reasons Nelliel didn’t bother to uncover, they weren’t.
 
They made it to the street, and she unlocked the iron gate at the entrance, taking broken tiled steps up to the third floor. She was flipping through her keys when Candice shoved her head forward into the door, her cheek one of her arms pulled up painfully high between her shoulder blades. Nelliel winced, smelling the ozone of reishi before she felt the jab of an arrow against her kidney.
 
Candice hissed, “

Stupid

, always lowering your guard, did you think I wouldn’t kill you?”
 
Twisting against her hold to look back over her shoulder, Nel watched her. She looked so angry, just as angry as when she’d first seen what she was. Nel kept intentionally being careless; turning her back, pretending to be distracted. She wanted-needed to know what she would do. “I don’t know, Candice...” That’s what hurt the most.
 
“Don’t look at me!”
 
Nel flinched, her voice ringing in the narrow hall. She didn’t look away, she refused to, and it wasn’t because Candice was an enemy. She asked, “Do you really hate me so much? Is it because I didn’t tell you what I was? Is it because I’m an arrancar?”
 
“Shut up!”
 
Nel’s voice was soft, as if she were soothing a frightened cat.  “Candice…”
 
The Quincy’s anger faltered, pain in her eyes, and she shoved her harder against the door. “Don’t look at me like that!”
 
Nel’s brows furrowed, then she took the risk. Her arm whipped out, ignoring the crossbow at her back, and tried to clip Candice in the face with her elbow. On reflex, Candice lurched back, freeing up Nel’s trapped arm. She spun, putting her back to the door even at Candice lifted her reishi bow for her heart. Her voice was steady, making no move to leave her gigai. “If you’re going to kill me, you’re not going to shoot me in the back.”
 
Candice clenched her teeth, anger in her eyes, but the tremble in her hand betrayed her. Nel didn’t move, her voice soft. “You were the first living person I could call a friend.”
 
“Stop.”
 
She couldn’t stop, especially if Candice might actually kill her. “It wasn’t a lie, it was real to me.”
 
Tears shone in Candice’s eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “Why would you just let me kill you? Fight back!”
 
“No.” Nel’s voice was steady. “I don't want to fight you, I just want to see you smile again.”
 
“Are you stupid? I’m a Quincy, we exist

to hunt you,

you’re an arrancar! You’re not supposed to remember to get me a straw in my fucking drink, or that I fucking hate salad.” She was crying now, angry tears burning trails down her cheeks. Her crossbow angled more towards the door than Nel. “I hate it so much.”
 
“I know.” Nel smiled sadly. “And kale and broccoli and those refrigerated platters of vegetables people bring to parties. I remember.”
 
Her arm fell to her side, grimacing through her tears. “You’re not supposed to be nice.” She lifted her hand to her cheek, smearing away her tears. “God, I probably look so gross.”
 
Nel took a small step forward, testing Candice’s tolerance for space. “You’re just as beautiful now as you were twenty minutes ago, and yesterday, and the day before that.
 
Candice let all her power go, biting her lip to stifle her tears. “I’m such a

bitch

.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, her eyes glued to the keys Nel had dropped only minutes earlier. There was the dusting of shame on her cheeks, and a self loathing Nel had never seen before. “Why do you put up with it?”
 
Nel took a step closer, and Candice noticed, but didn’t move. She took that as a good sign, stepping even closer. She reached for her cheek, her fingertips brushing damp skin. Her gigai didn’t have the calloused hands of a fighter, it almost felt like a lie. She answered honestly. “Because I like you. Maybe that does make me stupid.”
 
Candice seemed to be searching her for a trap, but if there was one thing Nel didn’t do, it was play mind games. She smiled, and she meant it. “If you’re not going to kill me, we should go inside.”
 
She deliberately turned her back to Candice, it was the fastest way to prove she trusted her, no matter how stupid that might be. She picked up the keys, the metal jangling from her hand, and as she straightened, she felt Candice embrace her from behind, her arms snaking around her middle, her cheek pressed up against her back. She couldn’t hear it, but she felt her frame shaking with sobs. Her apology was muffled against her jacket. “I fucked up your face...I’m sorry.”
 
Nel stood there, a small smile on her lips. Her right side of her face throbbed, but a little pain was a small price to pay. “It’s just a gigai.” Kurosaki, damn him, he knew they wouldn’t kill each other, he knew Candice still cared, and he let her have the chance to fix it.
 
She stood there in the hallway with her until the sound of a door unlocking a flight above forced them to move. She untangled herself, taking a step away with a sniff. Nel had the door open and both of them inside before the person above them could even turn the corner. She locked the door and turned, watching Candice flop back onto the tiny bed, the small mattress squeaking under her weight. The light spilling in through the window slats caught swirling dust motes like spinning stars, painting bright lines across the curve of Candice’s breasts, her fingers, her eyelashes.
 
Nel watched the rise and fall of her breath, then sat down on the edge of the bed, twisting to prop herself up on her arm on the other side of Candice’s shoulder. Her hair cascaded over her neck to tickle Candice’s nose. Her brows scrunched, and she looked up at Nel, pale blue eyes searching for something.
 
Candice looked away, and that didn’t feel right to Nel. She lifted her hand to her cheek, trying to earn the Quincy’s attention. Candice looked back, and for once, she had nothing to say. Nel leaned in and hesitated, but Candice didn’t move, she only watched expectantly. Nel closed the distance, pressing her lips to Candice’s. Even trapped in a gigai, Candice tasted like ozone and reishi and her lips were as fever hot as her temper.
 
Candice didn’t push her away, and for the first time in days, Neliel felt real joy bloom in her heart.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
True to their word, Zangetsu and the spirit he called Ossan hadn’t budged since he’d left them. “How’s sleeping beauty?”
 
Zangetsu gave him a sharp glare. “The same as yesterday, and the day before that, and

an hour ago

.”
 
Grimmjow looked skeptical, his eyes tracing Kurosaki’s profile. He didn’t seem any different, but he could still smell the salt from his tears, and it was all the reminder he needed that he might look peaceful in sleep, but he was far from it. “Is he really? Doesn’t he need to eat something?”
 
Zangetsu straightened from a crouch, but didn’t step away from Kurosaki’s side. “No. Pay attention for half a second, King is drawing in the reishi around him in his sleep, he’s fine.”
 
Grimmjow looked for the first time, and didn’t notice at first, it was so slight. “He can do that in his sleep?”
 
“

Apparently

.” The spirits traded off watching him, and at the moment, it was the tall, quiet one making the rounds to be sure no hollow got too curious. The only one the pair let so close was him. He was both flattered, and concerned by what that meant. They weren’t necessarily

nice

to him, they seemed to begrudgingly accept him as a constant in Kurosaki's life.
 
The hollow asked, “What about Soul Society?”
 
“Same.” He wasn’t sure if this was good or bad news to the hollow, he had a hard time reading him when it came to anything more subtle than a death threat. He stood there for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons of asking Zangetsu over Ossan. He finally bit the bullet and stopped being a coward. “Harribel still wants to see him.”
 
“No.”
 
His answer had just as much bite as the first time he’d asked, and the second, and the third time he expected some form of violence. He was fairly certain the only reason he hadn’t already moved on to that step was because he would have to leave Kurosaki’s side. He asked, “Why not?”
 
“I don’t trust her.” Zangetsu growled, his hands flexing in the desire for violence, but he didn’t move. From the outside, the hollow’s insistence on remaining within arms reach of Kurosaki might look irrational, insane even, but Grimmjow couldn’t blame him for his paranoia. It was justified after all the shit they’d been through.
 
He could have pressed the matter, but he would actually rather listen to Zangetsu than Harribel. If he was loyal to anyone, it was Kurosaki, and she knew that enough that he didn’t think she expected much from him. He looked away, dropping the subject before he got riled up over it. “Alright.”
 
He glanced up, the monstrous claws raking over the world almost mundane.

Almost

. He asked, “Have they even noticed?”
 
“Yeah they noticed, I think they’re annoyed, if you can call restlessness a feeling, but what the fuck do I know?”
 
Grimmjow accused, “

You

would know, wouldn’t you? Who the fuck else is in there?”
 
Zangetsu’s eyes narrowed. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated…” Grimmjow repeated flatly. Everything was complicated, he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t press the issue, he didn’t think Zangetsu would explain.
 
He didn’t have anything else to say, so he started to pace. This was nothing new; he would pace, Zangetsu would watch, and eventually, he would have to leave, but he always came back, and the cycle started all over again.
 
He felt pathetic, hovering over Kurosaki while he slept. What the fuck could he do that his own hollow couldn’t? Get in the way? That sounded probable.
 
He thought maybe he understood Kurosaki’s despair over his death, in a timeline he wouldn’t ever know. He was interesting. At first he wanted to kill him, then he just wanted to beat him, but now…
 
He stiffened at the sudden anvil drop of reiatsu. For a split second, he was hopeful it belonged to Kurosaki, but that was didn’t make sense. It was similar, but it lacked the darkness of a hollow.
 
His eyes snapped up to Zangetsu, who was growing at the source of it like a dog. Grimmjow demanded, “Who the fuck is that?”
 
Zangetsu answered with an undercurrent of irritation. “Kurosaki’s old man.” He looked back at him and barked, “

Go

. Don’t let them kill him.”
 
He didn’t need to be told twice, he was on his feet and gone, pouring on the speed. It felt a lot like the shinigami was in a fight, surely they recognized his reiatsu? There was another spike of power, this time strong enough to betray the identity of the arrancar that had engaged the shinigami;

Ulquiorra

.
 
Motherfucker, of course it would be Ulquiorra. He was minutes away, which was time he didn’t have. He drew Pantera, and went into resurrection midstep. His speed doubled, which was going to have to be good enough.
 
He took corners by kicking off of walls, and he was on them in seconds. He dug his claws in, sliding to a stop in a room that was a hell of a lot larger thanks to some impromptu renovating. He raised his reiatsu in warning, his voice rough from a mouthful of sharpened teeth. “Stand down!”
 
Ulquiorra hadn’t even released his sword, but he was more than a little engaged. “Why would I do that,

tercera

?”
 
That startled Grimmjow enough to stop him short. Ulquiorra wasn’t one to pull rank, but for whatever fucking reason, he had his sights set on Kurosaki’s father. His timing couldn’t be worse. He was stronger, but strong enough to stop Ulquiorra? He honestly didn’t know.
 
The shinigami faced him, eyes widening in recognition. “

You

.”
 
Ulquiorra took advantage of his distraction, blurring into sonido, his sword raised to strike him from behind. Grimmjow only made it one step forward, turned out Kurosaki’s dad didn’t need protecting. He raised his sword parallel to his body, blocking Ulquiorra's attack. There was the grind of steel, then he was gone, sliding back on his feet with a wall to his back.
 
Ulquiorra seemed to understand Grimmjow might be hard pressed to stop him, but if another Espada showed up, he would lose his edge. Instead of going for the shinigami, he raised a hand towards him, a cero burning at the end of a fingertip.
 
“Shit.” Grimmjow muttered. He raised his arms and dark energy split around him, rolling off his armor like water, but it wasn’t meant to kill him, only slow him down. When it cleared, he saw that Ulquiorra was locked in a deadly dance with the shinigami, and whatever he was saying was only making the man angrier.
 
Grimmjow crossed the space in sonido, swiping with reiatsu laced claws. Ulquiorra twisted out of the way, but it put him closer in his need to keep the shinigami in sight, and fuck everything, he tried to bite him. His teeth snapped shut on air, but Ulquiorra had backed off, disgust in his voice. “Animal.”
 
Kurosaki’s father didn’t take too kindly to the intervention, swinging straight down at Grimmjow’s neck. His arm snapped up, catching the sword before it could wedge itself into his shoulders. The blade sunk into his armor, but he didn’t lose an arm. Good enough. The shinigami pushed down, and damn he was strong. “Back off, arrancar.”
 
Grimmjow was pressured lower into a crouch, a growl in his chest. “

You

back off, you’re off limits, I ain’t fightin’ you.”
 
“Off-limits,” he scoffed. “Tell it to your friend.”
 
Unbelievable, he really was Kurosaki’s father. “We ain’t friends.” He caught that look in his eyes, wondering just what it was Ulquiorra had told him. There was anger sure, but also despair. He said, “Your son is alive.”
 
The blade sunk a little deeper into his hand, but he felt the tremor in the blade. The shinigami hissed, “Then where is he?”
 
He was suddenly gone, Ulquiorra swinging his sword through the space he was just standing in, nearly taking Grimmjow’s arm with it. “Watch it!

Asshole

.”
 
Ulquiorra ignored him, questioning Kurosaki’s father. “What exactly was your plan? Come alone, risk death, and for what?” Kurosaki’s father tensed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. Ulquiorra’s question was genuine, even though it seemed like common sense to an outsider. Grimmjow could see the shinigami thought he was being mocked, and he wasn’t about to truthfully answer an arrancar.
 
When Ulquiorra raised his sword level with the ground, Grimmjow stiffened. “Are you insane? Stand down, Ulquiorra.”
 
He didn’t get so much as a glance as Ulquiorra drew in a breath to release his sword. The the Espada froze, the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head. “

Enough

, primera.” Grimmjow hadn’t even sensed Starrk approach, and clearly, neither had Ulquiorra.
 
Nobody moved, thank fuck, not even the shinigami. Starrk said, “Don't pretend you don’t know this one isn’t prey.”
 
Ulquiorra’s eyes shifted, taking in Grimmjow, and the arrancar behind him. The tension was interrupted by a soft sigh. “Fine. I have what I wanted.” Ulquiorra turned away and sheathed his sword, stalking off down the hall without a care in the world. He didn’t know why Kurosaki hadn’t killed him yet, he hated that creepy fucker.
 
With Ulquiorra gone, Starrk lowered his gun, only to find the shinigami‘s sword leveled at his throat. He didn’t seem perturbed by this, if his posture was anything to go by. He stated calmly. “No one here will fight you, shinigami.”
 
The shinigami was still skeptical, and that didn’t seem to be unreasonable. “Why the hell not?”
 
Starrk scoffed like that was a stupid question. “Because most of us value life. Kurosaki is territorial over his own fraccion, I can’t imagine how he is with familia.”
 
Grimmjow straightened, looking down at his bloody hand. If Kurosaki’s father could cut through his hierro when he wasn’t even in shikai, it explained some of his sons monstrous reiatsu.
 
His thoughts were interrupted by Lilynette’s screeching voice. “Is that blue motherfucker there? Why the fuck didn’t

you

stop him?”
 
“Bitch!” Grimmjow snapped. “What do you think I was doing?”
 
“Getting your ass kicked!”
 
“Psh, his fucking dad wanted to kill me too.”
 
“Blah, blah, blah, excuses!”
 
Starrk sighed. “Stop, I’m getting a headache.”
 
The conversation seemed to put the shinigami more at ease. He took a step back, but didn’t sheath his sword, watching them both carefully. Grimmjow fell out of resurrection, throwing his sword very pointedly into the sheath. He didn’t like sheathing his sword in front of a very deadly threat, but he wasn’t going to be a pussy about it either. He held up his hands. “

Unarmed

, now can we move on? You want to see him, right?”
 
Something about the way he worded that statement shook the shinigami. His grip tightened on the sword, then he sheathed it, eyes flicking warily between the two. “Take me to him.”
 
Starrk met Grimmjow’s gaze, taking the silent gratitude for what it was. He wouldn’t thank the bastard, but he knew that could have gone worse, much worse. Ulquiorra backed off so easily, which led Grimmjow to believe his only intention was to anger Kurosaki. If he was so interested in suicide he could be less obnoxious about it.
 
Starrk stayed put, aware he couldn’t go with them as well as deterring Ulquiorra from changing his mind. Grimmjow turned to lead the shinigami down the destroyed hallway. That the hall hadn’t immediately begun to reform after Ulquiorra’s cero was proof enough that Kurosaki was unconscious.
 
He walked in silence, the shinigami trailing behind. He didn’t like having him at his back, but it was worth it if he fucking relaxed. He had enough stress without adding an emotional father to the mix.
 
It was a few minutes of silence before Grimmjow asked, “How did you even get here?”
 
“Urahara.”
 
His tone was clipped in a way that Grimmjow thought meant that he was actually angry at Urahara himself. He didn’t press for more information, and the shinigami didn’t divulge.
 
To Grimmjow’s surprise, once they got to Zangetsu’s self imposed border, Ossan was standing there waiting for them. The sight of him seemed to calm the shinigami immensely. It was proof Ichigo was alive and well enough to manifest his Zanpakuto, a fact Grimmjow had to admit reassured him too.
 
Ossan stood unmoving, his silhouette in constant motion, as if he were underwater, despite the lack of wind. It always creeped him out, as much as that calculating stare. The spirit waited until they were in comfortable speaking distance, his voice devoid of emotion. “You should not have come here.”
 
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,

seishin

.”
 
Ossan didn’t need to think about his answer. “Being here puts you at risk. Ichigo would not want that.”
 
“Frankly,” growled the shinigami, “fuck what my son wants.

Take me to him.

”
 
Grimmjow thought he noticed a faint smile on the spirit’s face, but he couldn’t imagine why it would be there. He agreed, turning as he spoke. “Very well.”
 
They walked in silence, none of them having a damn thing to say to the other. Grimmjow walked behind the pair, and if it bothered the shinigami to have a potential enemy at his back, he sure as shit couldn’t see it. Grimmjow wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or not.
 
Once Ichigo was in sight, the shinigami’s demeanour changed. He could smell the stress on the man, feel it in his reiatsu, and it put him on edge.
 
Zangetsu hovered over Kurosaki, shoulders hunched like he was ready to tear throats. From the look on his face, it seemed an awful lot like he hated his father.
 
The shinigami greeted darkly, “

Hollow

. Explain, why is he in a Kido-induced sleep.”
 
Zangetsu said nothing, he only glared, so Ossan took over. “He was confused. Rather than risk him harming himself or others, we thought it best he sleep.” A half truth, so they didn’t intend to tell him the whole truth. Grimmjow wondered why.
 
The shinigami stared at him in shock, but that didn’t last long. He demanded, “How long?”
 
“A few days,” answered Grimmjow.
 
The shinigami looked between the three. “Do you have

any

idea how risky it is to force someone to sleep for so long? Do you even know the proper Kido? You’re supposed to prote-”
 
He didn’t even finish the word before Zangetsu

moved

. Grimmjow blinked, and Ossan was wrestling with a spitting angry hollow. He caught him, throwing him to the ground a good distance away. Zangetsu screamed at Kurosaki’s father. “What would YOU know?!” He lunged again, but Ossan was already behind him, pinning his arms to his sides in a bear hug. “LET

GO

OF ME!”
 
Grimmjow was surprised to see Ossan angry at all, his face was contorted in rage. “What would you do?

Kill him?

What does that solve, hollow? Nothing!”
 
Zangetsu was doubled over in his grip, hate burning in golden eyes, and Grimmjow realized that the disdain he showed him was nothing compared to real hate, and he wasn’t sure what his father had done to deserve it. The sword’s thoughts took strange turns, it was hard to keep up.
 
Zangetsu was breathing hard, teeth clenched. “You have no idea what his soul is like. We gave him everything, and where were you? Couldn’t even lend a bit of reiatsu. Was he infringing on your

perfect

daughters? Fuck you!”
 
The shinigami bit back. “This has nothing to do with his sisters.”
 
Zangetsu smiled a cruel smile. “Doesn’t it though?”
 
Grimmjow felt weird being the only cool head in the house, but this was ridiculous. “All of you, fuckin’ relax!” That earned him a venomous look from all of them. He drawled, “You aaaalllll give a damn about Kurosaki, I get it. This is for the best, jii-san. You didn’t see him.”
 
“See what?” His father looked afraid to ask, but Grimmjow didn’t think it was worth it to cut him out of the truth. Not all of the truth anyway.
 
Grimmjow looked at Zangetsu, and when he didn’t get violently stopped, he continued, “He was a few seconds away from killing me, but...he was crying, I’ve never seen him like that.  He was...confused...he’s not okay.” He sighed, enough days having passed for him to accept it, even if he didn’t like it. “The bastard that killed everyone he ever cared about is trapped in there with him and it’s tearing him apart.”
 
Chancing a look back at the shinigami, Grimmjow instantly regretted it. The man looked shattered, some of his worst nightmares realized. He didn’t even know him, but he looked enough like Kurosaki to make him uncomfortable. Grimmjow continued, carefully. “This is for the best, they have a plan.”
 
That got his attention, the shinigami looked back at the pair, Ossan still not trusting Zangetsu enough to let him go. “What plan?”
 
It took a minute, but Ossan explained what they were doing and their reasoning behind it with much more grace than Grimmjow might have. Personally, it felt a lot to him like they were sitting on their hands waiting for it to get worse. But Zangetsu was right, what the fuck else could they do?
 
The shinigami scowled to himself, clearly unhappy with the thought of leaving it to the Gods to clean up their own mess. Zangetsu growled, “If you have a better idea, let’s fuckin’ hear it.”
 
He asked, “What do you mean when you say ‘confused’?” From the way he asked, it sounded like he already knew.
 
Grimmjow growled, “

Confused

. He didn’t remember me, not as himself. I’ve been on the other end of his nightmares and panic, and this was different. Some part of him...no...something

in

him wanted to kill me, but doing it was breaking him and he didn’t know why.”
 
He glanced down at Kurosaki, then away. It left a bad taste in his mouth to see him so still, especially when he couldn’t feel his reiatsu. “He said he could handle it, and he can’t...what else is there to say?” He spoke at a level barely surpassing a mutter, and his words still felt too loud. He felt like he was giving the truth a voice he didn’t want it to have. If this didn’t work, Kurosaki was done, and that was that.
 
Zangetsu shoved Ossan off, and if the spirit let him, then Grimmjow assumed that meant he’d cooled off. That wasn’t the case. He drew his sword with a scream of frustration, his reiatsu bisecting most everything to the East of where he was standing. He wasn’t aiming his anger at someone fragile, so apparently that warranted letting him go.
 
The shinigami watched in sick disapproval, but ultimately seemed to be at a loss.
 
Ossan let Zangetsu take out his rage on Las Noches, it was better than the alternative. He turned to Kurosaki’s father and repeated his earlier sentiment. “You should go.”
 
For a moment Kurosaki’s father looked offended, then it shifted into anger. “You want me to

leave

? After what you just told me?”
 
Ossan didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. We have no way of knowing when the Gods will take action, and when they act, we have no way of knowing what damage they could inflict. Ichigo does not cope with loss well, let alone when he’s the cause. Please leave.”
 
Grimmjow could see the shinigami struggling to find a reason to argue. Failure showed in the resignation on his face, Grimmjow could empathize, he really could, but he’d had a few days for reality to settle.
 
Kurosaki’s father gave his son another long once over, and he knew the man would notice what he hadn’t. He was drawing in reishi, but he also had regeneration, it was possible he could stay under indefinitely, which was entirely the point of doing it. No, at the moment, the only ones under any sort of threat would be anyone in his immediate vicinity.
 
He turned his attention to Grimmjow, “Open a garganta.” He glanced up, but his gaze didn’t linger. He gave Ossan a hard look. “I know how pointless it is to say this, but keep him safe.”
 
“That

is

our purpose,” assured Ossan.
 
He stepped into the garganta, and Grimmjow called out, stubbornly confident. “It’ll work.” There weren’t many other options, he wasn’t letting himself think about failure, that never solved anything. You fought and you won, or you’d best expect to die.
 
The shinigami paused, then turned back and gave him the same fake smile he’d seen plastered on Kurosaki’s face. “I still don’t like you, arrancar, but I have to admit you’ve got balls to hang around my son by

choice

.”
 
Grimmjow shouted, “I ain’t a coward!” Now he sounded defensive, brilliant.
 
The shinigami’s smile changed, becoming a bit more genuine. “You’re a lot like my son, aren’t you?” He turned away, starting back through the garganta with more trust in him than he should reasonably have. He didn’t look back, but there was some level of affection in his tone, and Grimmjow knew all of it was Kurosaki. “Idiots, both of you.”
 
“Asshole,” muttered Grimmjow. He watched his back, happy to see him go. If Kurosaki crumbled just from a close call with

him

, how the fuck would he handle hurting his family? He didn’t want to fucking find out.
 
He closed the garganta, casting a look over to Zangetsu. He was just as livid now as he had been earlier, except he’d stopped destroying Las Noches in a shadow of real restraint. In reality, he probably got bored.
 
Grimmjow couldn’t stop the question before he asked it, his curiosity getting the better of self preservation. “What’s it like for all that power to mean absolute dick?”
 
Zangetsu was suddenly before him, his speed expected, but no less startling. “Say that again to my face.”
 
Hackles raised, Grimmjow willed himself to stay calm. Zangetsu would hurt him, not seriously. “Don’t get yer panties in a bunch, I was being serious.”
 
Zangetsu clenched his hands so tightly, blood dripped from between his fingers. Grimmjow didn’t let it scare him when Zangetsu leaned in, teeth clenched. “

Infuriating

.” The hollow’s eyes narrowed, itching to kill something, but he knew Kurosaki wouldn’t stand for it if he was hurt. “But you already know. You were Aizen’s dog, for awhile, weren’t you?”
 
Grimmjow frowned, taking a step back. He’d lied to himself and said he was just doing what was necessary to become stronger, that it was unavoidable, that he was just using Aizen, but what a load of shit that was. Zangetsu followed his thoughts with a hollow bark of laughter. “There’s

always

someone stronger, it’s just a matter of time before they sink their teeth in you. Maybe there’s the little mercies and they just kill you, or maybe they bleed you dry first.” Zangetsu turned away, lip curled in disgust. “You should thank him for saving your pride. Even if it never happened.”
 
Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes falling again to Kurosaki. Thank him for this nightmare? He should. He’d done nothing but wander the desert and kill, fighting for the top of something. He’d only wanted to live without fear. He thought he wanted to crush everything beneath him, but that wasn’t right, there was no joy to be had in slaughter.
 
He was caught in the spiderweb of Kurosaki’s failures and victories and he’d gotten so use to it, he couldn’t imagine anything else. He wanted Kurosaki to come back. He felt pathetic, hovering over him, but he stubbornly refused to ignore what he wanted, and he wanted to be there.

Wake up, Kurosaki.

--- xxx ---
 
Tier Harribel

Harribel stood with her arms crossed in the air outside Seireitei, unconcerned by any potential attack. Three days of patrols, and not even a rustle. Ichigo must have been one hell of a thorn in Soul Society’s side for them to completely ignore Espada rank arrancar. Then again, she wasn’t interested in a fight, and she had chosen to remain outside their walls.
 
Currently, Soul Society was still struggling with the sand Kurosaki had left behind. It seemed to her that any sand they attempted to move outside the barrier was drawn back in. Curious, especially when Kurosaki was currently unconscious. It was yet another reminder that the whispering voices in the air surrounding all of them were more than just voices.
 
They might not be engaging them in discourse or battle, currently, but it was so much more than what they used to have. Soul Society might refuse to acknowledge their sovereignty, but at least they had upgraded from treating them like mindless animals to a thinking, rationalizing enemy. She would prefer an ounce of respect to blithe indifference any day, and she thought most arrancar agreed.
 
She whistled, lifting her hand to beckon her fraccion back to her side. She froze when she heard motion by one of the gates, turning to watch as the slab of stone was lifted. A shinigami stepped out, a small girl, and no one appeared to be there to accompany her. She looked from side to side, then up, locking eyes with Harribel.
 
“There’s no way,” muttered Mila. “This

has

to be a trap.”
 
“Look at her,” said Tier, “she’s afraid.” And it wasn’t fear that was faked, it seemed to Harribel that she wasn’t acting on orders. If it was one thing any hollow knew, it was fear. She considered for a moment what to do. Acknowledging this shinigami now could potentially ruin any future hopes for negotiation that didn’t involve bodily threat, but that determination in the girl’s eyes was something she never could ignore. It was a weakness she didn’t feel shame over.
 
Harribel closed her eyes through a sigh, her heart once again getting in the way. She opened them, glancing to her fraccion. “Stay here. On the off chance it

is

a trap, we don't all need to fall for it.” And they would be her eyes from above. If there was anything suspicious, they should notice with enough time for her to do something about it.
 
Harribel crossed over to her at a casual enough speed that she wouldn’t feel any more threatened than reality could help, and alighted on the ground several paces away.
 
The girl stood a little straighter, then doubled over in a formal bow, catching Harribel off guard. She returned the courtesy with a nod as the shinigami straightened, a practiced authority in her voice. “My name is Rukia, my superiors don’t know that I’m here, nor am I acting on their behalf, nor on the behalf of the Kuchiki household, my actions are my own.”
 
Harribel blinked like a cat in calm understanding. “Understood. My name is Tier Harribel. What it is you want to speak to me about?”
 
She blinked owlishly, a faint flush burning her cheeks. “I-I didn’t recognize you Harribel-sama.”
 
Harribel’s eyes narrowed in a smile. “That is no fault of yours, Rukia.”
 
The shinigami gathered herself, then tiptoed around what she really wanted to ask. “Is Ichigo…?”
 
Harribel could hear the concern dripping from her voice. There was no doubt that Soul Society was wondering where he’d gone, especially since he hadn’t made an appearance in days.  If Soul Society knew their strongest fighter was indisposed, things could take a turn for the worst. She reassured her with respect for her friendship. “He’s alive...but I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.” She couldn’t in good faith trust her with more information than that.
 
Her shoulders sagged in relief, and Harribel saw what looked like guilt shadowed in her eyes. She buried it a heartbeat later, her own personal demons settled, and her tone became more rehearsed. “I thought you should know, the shinigami Ichigo talked to, Renji, he lied for him. Soul Society doesn’t know how fragmented Ichigo’s mind has become.” Harribel was surprised. She wasn’t without her own biases, but she couldn’t help but wonder why a shinigami would cover for him.
 
Rukia continued, “And...they don’t intend to negotiate. I’m not a taicho, I don’t know everything, but I think they’re trying to find a way to seal him.”
 
It saddened her to know that whatever hopes she had for peace weren’t going to happen. “Why would you betray your own?” asked Harribel.
 
Defiance steeled Rukia’s expression. “I’m a shinigami, I’m

proud

of that, and I always will be, but...genocide, war? These things were avoidable, if Ichigo is right, and I don’t doubt that he is. I think Seireitei made a mistake, and we’re obligated to fix it. I

know

Ichigo, he always has a reason, no matter how he might have changed. I still trust him.”
 
Harribel said, “I don’t want war either, shinigami, we’re all merely doing what we must.” She saw the gatekeeper just inside the walls looking around anxiously and she said, “You’ve taken risks to speak with me, you should go.” She dipped her head in another bow, one Rukia generously returned, and said, “You must value your friendship with Ichigo very much, or you must feel you’ve done him a deep wrong. I truly hope it isn’t the latter, Ichigo would not be pleased that he caused you so much grief.”
 
Rukia seemed startled by her insight, either into her relationship with Ichigo, or that she was so transparent. She looked away, suddenly very interested in the treeline behind her. Rukia said, “I started all of this, I pulled him into this, I-”
 
Harribel couldn’t help herself, she reached out for her, and to her shock, Rukia didn’t flinch when she hovered her hand near her cheek, guiding her eyes back towards her. “Rukia, if anyone understands regret, it’s an arrancar. Ichigo has suffered more than most, but that was not your doing. Maybe you set him on this path, but he has a fierce pride in who he is, and the base fact that he can protect the people he loves. You know him better than I, you must know that’s true. You can’t punish yourself.”
 
Rukia smiled a sad smile. “Easier said.”
 
“Indeed, shinigami.” She lowered her hand. “Ichigo is tired of war, he does not want to start one, and he has enough power that he might just be able to stop it. But we shall see.” She tilted her head towards the gate. “Your gatekeeper is nervous.”
 
Rukia’s smile turned up into a grin. “If he didn’t owe me a favor, it wouldn’t be open at all. Thank you, Harribel.”
 
The shinigami left, and Harribel truly hoped she wasn’t caught. She was still very loyal to her people, but her values were caught in the middle of politics. Harribel didn’t much care for politics. She turned back to her fraccion, silently hoping Ichigo woke up before Soul Society realized he was gone.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow

Grimmjow spent more time near Kurosaki than away. He was bored, but this boredom was permeated with the fear and knowledge it might go on indefinitely. He missed the threat behind Kurosaki’s sword, the heavy weight of his reiatsu and that stupid cocky grin on his goddamned face. Not only was that missing, but the fucking whispers and howling was only that much worse when he wasn’t sure if there was an end in sight.
 
So much time passed by without so much as a flicker of movement, it was startling when Kurosaki suddenly sat up. That action alone flooded Grimmjow with adrenaline. He’d spent enough time around the visored to recognize him, from the way he fought, to the way he stood, and this was all wrong. He didn’t move with the jarring motions of an uncoordinated puppeteer like before, he moved like himself, all fluid grace, but it was too purposeful, concise.
 
Unlike when this happened in the past, Zangetsu was still present, and he looked between the two of them with hopeful caution, and the casual observation of a bystander. That was when he understood.
 
Kurosaki stood with the speed of something with the leisure of time and an absence of fear. His head turned, pitch black eyes settling on him. Runrunrun

RUN

.
 
Grimmjow flickered into sonido, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough. Kurosaki was before him, hand on his throat stopping him short and cutting off his escape. His grip was like iron, but he didn’t squeeze off his air, he just wanted him to be still. Kurosaki cocked his head minutely, studying him with the cold indifference of a shark. A chill made itself at home in his blood; this thing wanted

him

, he didn’t just happen to be in its way.
 
He didn’t know if this was Alteza or what, but it wasn’t Kurosaki. It said something to him in a language he didn’t understand, it’s grip tightening a fraction, just enough to cut off his air. The thing took a step forward, lowering his arm, and forced Grimmjow to kneel.
 
Grimmjow struggled against him in vain, his knees slamming to the ground with the sharp sting of failure. He didn’t understand what it wanted with him, but betrayal frayed the edges of his thoughts. Kurosaki’s spirits kept him close on purpose. He was the sacrifice, the dumbass that didn’t see what was right in front of his face.

Stupid

.
 
He couldn’t see Zangetsu, but he could hear him. “Sorry, koneko.” Bastard

did

sound sorry, and that only ignited a painful combination of anger and fear. He wasn’t given the opportunity to linger on it.
 
Kurosaki’s lips moved slowly, deliberately. “Gn’wahl gof'n.”
 
His soul was dragged down into a sea of agony, and as awareness was stolen from him, he felt a deep and resounding fear that this was the end.

--- xxx ---
  
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.” -Cassandra Clare

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
He woke with a desperate gasp, staring straight up into a writhing sky. He blinked, chest heaving, and struggled to remember why he was unconscious to begin with. He ran through his memories, but it was a blur of rage, confusion, and paranoia. He questioned, “Zangetsu?” He always turned to his hollow for answers, but this time there was no reply.
 
He bolted upright, hand snapping back for his sword. His hand connected with the grip and the sharp panic in his chest ached as it faded. Now that he actually searched inward, Zangetsu was definitely there. So why wasn’t he answering?
 
A streak of blue in his peripheral caught his attention.

Grimmjow.

He was lying facedown, he wasn’t moving. His panic seized his heart, clawing up his throat. No blood, but he was too far away to see if he was breathing. He realized with a jolt that he sensed nothing. No reiatsu.

NOTHING

.
 
He was at his side in a heartbeat, his hand hovering over his shoulder. Move. Movemovemove. He rolled him to his back, and he flinched back when he saw his eyes, a cold sweat dampening his skin. They were an abyss, flooded with the inky dark of la sangre.
 
He froze, trying to understand what he was seeing. Grimmjow wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be, no--NO. He lifted his hands to his head, breathing hard and fast. Aizen did this? No, nonono he was dead, he killed him-this was different.
 
“King,

breathe

, he’s alive.”
 
The question burning in his mind was strong enough that Zangetsu answered. How could he know that? “Look deeper, King.”
 
There was a calm authority in his voice that brought him out of the panic threatening to consume him. Just look, look deeper. He cast his senses out, beyond reiatsu, to everything he could think of, and that was all it took to see he did have a spark, he wasn’t gone, his soul was still there.
 
Ichigo’s voice wavered, his thoughts stuttering over blood and failure. “I thought…”
 
“That happened a long time ago, King. Remember

when

you are.”
 
“When?” No blood, this time there was no blood. This time...Zangetsu let him work it out, his memories coming into focus the more his heart slowed. He slowly uncurled from himself, but the ache in his chest didn’t abate.
 
Zangetsu’s voice sounded closer, but was strangely even quieter. “If you’re awake, he should be fine.”

Should

. He turned and lunged for his hollow, screaming, a guttural, wordless sound,. He hit him in the chest and flattened him to his back. He could feel Zangetsu’s steely resolve. He’d

done

something, he’d acted without his consent, and Ichigo

hated

being ignorant.
 
Zangetsu watched him calmly, making no move to retaliate. “It broke you, King, you were done. What was I supposed to do? You don’t even remember, do you?”
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened, searching his memory. He remembered...he remembered Yamamoto, Renji...he killed the Soul King. What happened after that? He squeezed his eyes shut.

What happened

?
 
Those yellow eyes,

his eyes

, dared him to find fault. “King, someone needed to share the burden, and there was no one else.”
 
Ichigo stared down at him, brows tight in distress. He was caving in on himself, and anger was a sad excuse for a foundation. His voice broke. “This will kill him.”
 
Zangetsu’s eyes narrowed. “Only if you don’t fix this. He

might

die.”
 
Gritting his teeth he hissed, “You mean

eventually

. Eventually, he’ll die. He’s

just

an arrancar, he wasn’t even vasto lorde.”
 
“He knew what he was getting into.”
 
Ichigo lifted him up just to slam him down. Zangetsu winced, but took it, and that only made him angrier. “Fuck you!”
 
“

You’ll

live, King. That’s all we care about.” There was hard determination in his eyes, and not an ounce of regret.
 
Ichigo knew he couldn’t fault him for being what he was, but he wanted to hate him. He didn’t need to tell Zangetsu why he was so angry; his hollow lived it, he felt it.
 
He grit his teeth and shoved away from his hollow, it was pointless to argue what he’d already done. He turned back to Grimmjow and looked deeper. Now that he wasn’t panicking, he was capable of sifting through the nuance of what Alteza was doing. He followed the threads of la sangre in his existence, tracing them through all of his soul, and he understood what Zangetsu meant by sharing the burden.
 
The parasitic impression of all those that came before him was there within Grimmjow when it shouldn’t be. He wasn’t a host, to Alteza, he was a living dragnet. Ichigo asked, “Did he even consent to this?”
 
Zangetsu sat just behind him, largely unaware of the particulars of what he was doing when his hollow could only feel la sangre in the most basic of terms. He answered casually. “He stayed by your side for about a week, sounds like consent to me.”
 
Ichigo stiffened. A week had gone by? That aside, that wasn’t a real answer. He turned back and stressed. “

Did. You. Tell him

?”
 
Zangetsu frowned. “No.”
 
Ichigo swiped his hand over his face, his exhale ragged. He muttered, “Of course not.” For being asleep for a week, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. His heart was still racing, and knowing he was at least in part complicit in betraying one of the few people he still thought of as a friend was making him feel sick.
 
He sat down across from Zangetsu, demanding, “What happened.

Everything, Zangetsu

.”
 
His hollow’s frown deepened and he rolled to his feet, crouching before Ichigo. “And what if that triggers what made me put you to sleep in the first place?”
 
“If it does, you dragged Grimmjow down with us for nothing.”
 
“Not for nothing, you’re better than you were.” Zangetsu leaned a little closer, eyes narrowed. “What if I refuse?”
 
The rush of emotion he felt was plain to Zangetsu, he knew that, so he said nothing. Zangetsu reached out for him, slowly tightening his fingers in a fistful of his hair. He pulled him closer, and Ichigo made no move to resist.
 
He watched his hollow, seeing the fear in his eyes. Anyone else might only see hate and rage, but Ichigo knew Zangetsu better than himself, he saw so much more. Ichigo’s tone softened a touch. “I

need

to know.”
 
Zangetsu’s grip tightened, his eyes burning with unresolved anger. “Why should I listen to you? I should throw you down and make myself king.”
 
Ossan’s voice cut through both of their thoughts. “

Hollow

-“
 
“Shut

up

, old man,” growled Zangetsu. “This doesn’t concern you.”
 
Ichigo didn’t fight back, but the look he gave his hollow was unwavering. “Then what’s stopping you?” If Zangetsu wanted to take control, he could, he wasn’t strong enough to stop him, and he hadn’t been for awhile. There was no telling how Alteza would react to that, but so far there seemed to be no difference between when he was in control or when his hollow was. Zangetsu could follow through on his threat if he chose, and Ichigo didn’t have a real argument to stop him.
 
Zangetsu’s will crumbled after a long, tense moment. “You are.” He didn’t need to say why, Ichigo knew it was his own weakness that trapped them both. A weakness that festered like an open wound, one Aizen cut into so many times Ichigo wasn’t sure it wouldn’t just kill him. First Aizen, then Szayel, then more and more and more Aizen, Aizen, AIZEN.
 
Ichigo wasn’t stupid, he knew what that monster did to him, but knowing didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Aizen might have taken away his life, his choices, his peace of mind, but Alteza and die Konigin were ravaging his soul.

Don’t think about it.

That was his mantra, move on and forget.
 
But things didn’t work like that. He swept it all under the rug, into the darkest corners of his soul, and suddenly it was a forbidden subject. Out of sight, but not out of mind.
 
The one thing about himself he could trust anymore was his Zanpakuto. Zangetsu didn’t exist apart from him, he was within him, and so he suffered too. Every nightmare, every slip, every moment of panic. If Zangetsu took the last ounce of his control from him without his consent...he didn’t want to think about it.
 
His hollow hissed, “You just can’t help yourself, can you? You have to twist the knife deeper.”
 
“If I’ve doomed Grimmjow to a slow death, I deserve to know why. Zangetsu…”
 
“Shut up, King.”
 
The moniker was back, which Ichigo could only take to mean Zangetsu had given up. His hollow disappeared back into the confines of his soul, and he began the slow and careful process of sharing every memory from when he’d killed the Soul King.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
The very first thing Grimmjow was aware of was pain. His back was sore and his neck was stiff like he’d slept on the fucking ground. He opened his eyes, staring straight up into that joke of a sky, and realized it was because he had indeed slept on the ground. He blinked a moment, trying to remember why he was there, and why he was so out of it. He felt like he was suffering through the worst hangover of his life. His head ached, vision swimming like he was still drunk. He rolled to his side and threw up.
 
He emptied his stomach of something dark, black like dead blood, something that dissolved like reishi. That was gross, and he honestly didn’t think he’d ever thrown up before he met fuckin Kurosaki.

Kurosaki

. Why did his name fill him with dread? He could barely hold himself up with his arms, he was weaker than a kitten, and he couldn’t remember

why

. He flopped to his back, panting for such little effort. He lifted his hand to his head, wondering why that goddamned whispering was so loud.
 
What happened? He was...watching Kurosaki, and then- “Motherfucker…”
 
That lying sonofabitch used him as live bait. His hand tightened in his hair, and he finally took stock of his surroundings. How long was he out?
 
“How do you feel?” Behind him? Kurosaki’s voice was low and carefully devoid of emotion. Guilt; he knew that telltale sign too well, that fucker thought he didn’t.
 
Grimmjow sat up, regretting it when the world seemed to shift beneath him. He propped his head on his knees and breathed. “What happened?”
 
Kurosaki ignored his question to repeat his own. “How do you feel?”
 
That sounded like an order, it had the proper inflection, and if he was feeling better, he might have told him to shove it. “Weak, tired, what does it look like?” He didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but he did, and he realized he

did

feel like accusing him, it was in part his fault.
 
He was surprised to hear Zangetsu’s shithead voice instead of Kurosaki’s. “

Yeah

, I used you.” He didn’t sound defensive, he just sounded angry. “We could feel that motherfucker like a wildfire, looking for something to burn. It wasn’t going to be King.” He paused, then added stiffly. “We are sorry it was you, but there was no one else.”
 
Grimmjow didn’t move, he didn’t think he could, but there was no less ire in his voice for it. ”

Really

. If it’s a segunda etapa you need, why not grab that motherfucker Ulquiorra? Why not Harribel?”
 
Kurosaki answered this time. “Because Las Noches still needs a leader, and because I don’t trust Ulquiorra. Maybe you’re too sick to notice, but this puts you in direct contact with my soul. One of the last people I’d ever want near my soul is Ulquiorra.” Ichigo was right, he hadn’t noticed, he’d been preoccupied with his own problems.
 
Ichido exhaled heavily, and there was a shift in his tone from something distant and explanatory to something more vulnerable. “I might not have been awake to make the choice, but Zangetsu is still a part of me. I’m sorry, Grimmjow.”
 
Grimmjow hated hearing regret in his voice, he wasn’t even conscious for the decision. He glared down at the ground, then closed his eyes, giving it some actual thought. His knee-jerk reaction was anger, because it didn’t fucking feel good to be manipulated. Or maybe what felt like shit was who did the manipulating. He’d gotten too used to the visored, too trusting.
 
He should have known Zangetsu would protect his wielder, he couldn’t blame him for his nature any more than he could blame an adjuchas for fighting regression. Kurosaki on the other hand never would have tried to save himself, he would have died alone just to protect him. Stupid fucker.
 
He growled under his breath and asked, “You sound coherent, so did it work?”
 
“I feel...okay. I think it did.”
 
Grimmjow turned his head to look at him, wondering why the distance between them irritated him so much. Kurosaki had that

look

on his face, one full of guilt and acceptance and dread. He asked, “So how much time until this kills me?”
 
If Kurosaki was surprised that he’d jumped to that conclusion, it didn’t show. He said, “I’m not sure.”
 
Grimmjow had a feeling he knew much more than he was letting on. Kurosaki was godlike in power, and he’d been a fucking basketcase. He didn’t think he had long at all, and that sat surprisingly well with him.
 
He closed his eyes, thinking back, and hells those two fuckers were so loud. “Can they not

shut the fuck up

? I can barely hear myself think.”
 
Kurosaki laughed bitterly, a sound of mutual suffering. “You get used to it.”
 
Grimmjow wasn’t so sure that was a positive thing, but it would make it marginally less annoying. He got over his irritation enough to actually think about what Kurosaki had said. Sharing his soul? Kurosaki was right, he felt like trash, and it was hard to focus on anything else, but beneath that, he felt something new, something vast.
 
His head shot up, despite the fact all that made him want to do was vomit, and he stared at Kurosaki, eyes wide. He sensed him, not as reiatsu, he didn’t think that’s what this was. He hadn’t noticed simply because his presence was so immense. In the same way he would discount the sky above his head or the ground beneath his feet, Kurosaki was

there

.
 
Alteza felt like an enemy at his throat, but Kurosaki felt different. Dangerous, but he was a sleeping behemoth, and his attention wasn’t focused on him. He stared at him, sorting through what he was feeling. A smile split his face, and he explained when Kurosaki stared in confusion. “Can’t sneak up on me anymore, jackass.”
 
Kurosaki’s eyes widened. “So

you can

sense me.”
 
“Didn’t realize it was you at first.” His smile grew to be strained. “I always knew you were a scary fucker, but this is the first time I’ve actually felt it.” He dropped his head to his knee again, riding out a wave of vertigo. “I think I get it now.”
 
“Get what?”
 
He tried to shake his head, regretted it, and said, “Doesn’t matter.” He thought the kid was strong before, and now he found himself in an

ocean

of his power. Kurosaki was the only one, the hybrid freak. Most of the people he went out of his way to protect feared him, and they didn’t know the half of it.

Lonely

. Yeah, now he understood.
 
He felt an undercurrent in his power, his soul. He focused on it, and uncovered a riptide of panic and darkness and rage. He glanced over to him and asked, “Is that you?”
 
Kurosaki’s tone was dry. “I’m not omniscient, I’m going to need a little more explanation than that.”
 
“Lots of rage, fear, violence.”
 
A flicker of shame crossed his eyes and he looked away. “Most of it.”
 
So that path wouldn’t yield any answers, time to take a step back. He let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, Kurosaki, explain to me what

this

is. Explain it like I’m five.”
 
Kurosaki looked down, thinking, and his other spirit, the slightly nicer one, materialized behind him. His voice was deep and steady in false calm. “The impressions of every host that came before Kurosaki are bound within la sangre and das licht. Their souls grew louder when Ichigo took on die Konigin, and even louder when he removed the Soul King. To dampen this, Alteza-” He stopped, and from the glare on Ichigo’s face, it was likely a mental cue Grimmjow wasn’t privy to.
 
The visored stood, crossing the distance to him with the reluctance of someone about to deliver bad news. Grimmjow braced himself as he crouched across from him and continued when his inner spirit left off. “Alteza did to you what it did to me, on a smaller scale. It flooded your system with la sangre and changed you. For a little while, you were basically dead.”
 
There was no shift in pitch, but the look in his eyes was enough. Kurosaki had

not

been okay with that. “I can see the change, the pressure Alteza is putting on you is steadily increasing. It’s slight, but it’s there. Your soul is acting as a filter.”
 
“Stop, stop.” Grimmjow rubbed his eyes and dropped his hand, feeling too shit to out two and two together. “Explain it to me like I’m two.”
 
“You’re the second light bulb in a series circuit, but you’re half the wattage you should be.”
 
“Kurosaki,” he groaned, “what the fuck are you talking about?”
 
Kurosaki sighed, his eyes roaming while he searched for another metaphor. He looked down, then waved his hand over the ground, the bone white ground molding into a bass relief he’d seen along the walls. Some simplistic but gruesome shit about sacrifice and pulling out people’s hearts.
 
Kurosaki asked, “What’s this look like to you?”
 
“Someone getting their heart ripped out. Sounds fun. Why are you showing me this?”
 
His expression grew pained. “It isn’t literal, it’s symbolic. This isn’t the first time this has happened. I think it might have even been common. Your heart isn't yours anymore. Hurt like hell, didn’t it?” It had, and it hadn’t all been physical pain.
 
Kurosaki touched the ground with his claws and the stone melted into a reflective surface. He pointedly urged him to look, and that alone worried him. He braced himself with a hand and hunched over the surface. Even if he had decent night vision, he was still backlit and difficult to see, but it was unmistakable. His mask was obscured, black, as were his sclera. He hadn’t ever gotten a good look at himself as an adjuchas, but he always remembered how stark the blue of his eyes had been. “What is this?” He hated how uncertain he sounded.
 
“La sangre. It nearly killed Aizen, and it nearly killed me, because we both weren’t born a hollow. When Aizen became a host, the Hogyoku completely changed him into a hollow, it even absorbed his Zanpakuto. Even being a pure hollow, so much of la sangre in your soul isn’t a good thing, the same way too much oxygen can kill you. My higher level of reiryoku protects me from that, mostly, but it won’t protect you. Alteza modified your soul so you wouldn’t die from the shock, but it

is

killing you.”
 
There it was again;

guilt

. It was layered so thick in Kurosaki’s voice he would have to be deaf not to hear it.
 
The visored continued, “Alteza is using you for support because you’re an arrancar, a collection of souls with one the one soul remaining dominant. It’s easier to disperse the strain onto you, because you’ve spent your entire existence dominating every soul in you and establishing an identity. I was

born

, there’s only one of me.

Soul

, singular. I don’t have decades of practice, and it isn’t something my instincts are familiar with. Maybe if my Zanpakuto was similar to an actual shinigami and was a collection of souls, Zangetsu could take some of the strain, but he isn’t and he can’t.”
 
Grimmjow hadn’t ever considered that. It was so mundane for him as an arrancar, he hadn’t considered it from Kurosaki’s perspective. It wasn’t instinct to dominate the souls trapped in there with him like it was for an arrancar. From the way Grimmjow understood, it was instinct to accept it, Kurosaki was too much like a shinigami not to. The very fact he was a hybrid was working completely against him. He asked, “Does that mean I won’t go crazy? No offense.”
 
“You shouldn’t. You’re better equipped to deal with the messy problem of souls. Aizen went mad, it didn’t even take that long, it was like flipping a switch. You saw what it did to me, I wasn’t faring much better.
 
“After awhile it might be of concern to you too, but...you probably won’t live long enough to have to deal with it. The real problem you have with filtering my soul is mainly my own power. Your soul can’t handle my reiryoku. The more la sangre erodes your soul, the more strain you’ll be under from my reiryoku, until you get used up like a kerosene soaked firestarter.”
 
Grimmjow stared at him, dread settling in his stomach as thickly as nausea. It was one thing to die in battle, but a slow, agonizing death? That was pathetic...but not Kurosaki’s fault. At the very least he hadn’t pulled any punches, he laid out the reality for him without dressing it up with lies or reassurances. Kurosaki might lie when it suited him, but he wouldn’t do it if it masked his own choices or future. At the very least he could count on that.
 
“What’s that pathetic look for?” He buried his fear under denial and anger, talking right over Kurosaki when he opened his mouth to argue. “

You

didn’t do this, and even if you did, I’d rather be helpful than useless.” His tone turned bitter, but it wasn’t directed at Kurosaki. “Wish granted.”
 
Kurosaki inhaled to speak, but he still wasn’t done. “And fuck your hollow for using me, I ain’t over that.”
 
A shadow of a smile tugged at the corner of Kurosaki’s lips. “Fair enough.” That look in his eyes still pissed Grimmjow off, but it was a shade better than suicidal; he’d take it.
 
Kurosaki broke eye contact first, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. His tone was pitched to be casual, but Grimmjow knew better. “Now that I’ve read you your rights, sleep it off. That nausea isn’t permanent. Pulling you through la sangre shouldn’t make you sick anymore either...so...I guess that’s a plus.”
 
Grimmjow leaned heavily on sarcasm. “I get the pleasure of being at your beck and call.

Yeah

, that sounds like a plus.” He flopped to his back on the ground, wincing at the stiffness in his limbs. Lying there on his back, he had an uninterrupted view of Alteza until Kurosaki stepped into sight, staring down at him. “I guess we’re both running on borrowed time.” He could nearly hear the ticking.
 
Rather than the guilt he expected to see, Kurosaki looked resolute. “I’ll fix this.”
 
His lip curled into a silent snarl. “You don’t owe me anything, Kurosaki.”
 
“Not from where I’m standing.”
 
He smiled, and that pissed him off too, so he draped his arms over his face so he wouldn’t have to look at Kurosaki or Alteza. “Scram Kurosaki, Harribel’s been wanting to see you for days, she probably thinks you finally kicked the bucket.” Silence, and he didn’t go anywhere. “Leave your fucking hollow if you’re that concerned.”
 
Still nothing, so he moved his arms enough to look back, Kurosaki looked deeply confused, so he added, “Prick got what he wanted, what else could he do to me?”

More

guit, goddammit. “Scram.”
 
“Fine.”
 
He left, leaving Zangetsu behind. A compromise, nothing more, or less, but it was a start. He wasn’t blind, Kurosaki held his life in unnaturally high regard, and he didn’t think all of it was due to his sparkling personality. Something about his death had rattled him so much that it ate away at him, even when he was alive.
 
He closed his eyes and decided he might as well take advantage of the situation. He asked, “You going to tell me what the fuck that was about?”
 
“What was

what

about?”
 
Kurosaki was bordering on submissive, it was uncomfortable to witness. He muttered, “Don’t pretend to be stupid, it’s not cute.”
 
Real anger bristled in his voice. “Why would I spill my wielders secrets to

you

?”
 
“You owe me, you asshole.”
 
When Zangetsu spoke again, he was closer, enough that Grimmjow warily shifted his arms to keep him in sight. “It isn’t difficult, koneko. King is scared. He fights like hell to save the people he loves, and he wouldn’t do half as much for himself. Dragging you down almost guarantees King will live. Simple.”
 
He still had a hard time believing Kurosaki gave that much of a damn about him, but he couldn’t get over that look in his eyes. His own hollow put his heart at risk, it was no wonder Kurosaki was angry.
 
“Now sleep, koneko. The sooner you can stand, the sooner he can get on with saving your life.”
 
He growled, “Fuck off,” but he was right. He wasn’t about to cause more problems just by being stubborn or a coward. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Despite his anxiety and his racing thoughts, he was more exhausted than he realized. Only moments passed and he was dragged under, dead asleep
 
--- xxx ---
 
Ukitake

Ukitake jabbed his fingers into his temple, trying and failing to massage away a headache. He picked up his papers, tapping them on the surface to dislodge any sand. He swept it off his desk with the back of his hand and a sense of resignation. There was no getting rid of it, which he was rather certain was the point.
 
There was a knock at the threshold, Kyoraku’s voice muffled by the shoji door. “Still awake?”
 
He sighed and dropped the papers back on the desk. “Of course I am.” Kyoraku slid open the door with a pinky and held up a rather large bottle and two glasses. Ukitake gave him a withering look. “I’m still on duty.”
 
“And this is technically your home.” He didn’t take no for an answer, closing the door behind him to set the bottle down directly on his paperwork. Paperwork that had been done for over an hour, but he hadn’t had the guts to sign.
 
His friend helped himself, sitting down with an exaggerated sigh. “You almost don’t notice the sand.”
 
Ukitake looked over at the shoji door with a frown. “Kiyone and Sentaro are very adamant about sweeping, it’s disheartening to see them work so hard for very little gain.”
 
“Well,” said Kyoraku. “It looks better than

my

office.”
 
Ukitake gave him a look. “When was the last time you were

in

your office?”
 
Kyoraku finished pouring a cup, a shameless grin on his face. “Good point.” He poured another cup, picked it up and frowned at it. “I’m not sure what to toast to.”
 
Ukitake picked his up, spinning in between his fingers. “How about peace?”
 
His friend lifted his drink. “Okay then. To peace.”
 
Ukitake raised his with half as much enthusiasm, and they both downed their shot. He coughed a bit, but not much. Kyoraku always ignored it unless it got ugly, and he appreciated that. He set his cup down, watching Kyoraku pour another. His cup left a clear ring of liquid on the paper when he lifted it. It started to wrinkle, and he pushed the paperwork aside.
 
Kyoraku asked, “Is that…”
 
“Yes.” He didn’t want to look at it, so he flipped it over. He toyed with the cup, staring down at it. “Rukia stopped by earlier, she was practically in tears.”
 
“She doesn’t want you to vote in favor.” It wasn’t a question, everyone knew Rukia cared for Ichigo, regardless of what he did.
 
Ukitake sighed, idly spinning the cup. “Obviously I can’t let her feelings about him sway my opinion, but…”
 
Kyoraku lifted his glass, waiting for Ukitake to do the same. “But you will. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He downed his drink, and Ukitake followed his lead, the sake warming his chest. He set his cup down and let Kyoraku fill it, his eyes on his friend as he spoke. “You talked to him before all this, didn’t you?”
 
He played with the cup again, his eyes straying to the candle on his desk. The wick flickered, then was still. His voice was heavy with doubt. “I

knew

he was unstable, I should have said something.”
 
His friend sighed quietly, his tone serious. “You remember what you told me, don’t you? You would have done the same, given the chance to change it.”
 
He remembered the fear in Kurosaki’s eyes when he’d lashed out at him. He’d seen that look in doses before, but never the panic he’d seen in the visored. “I saw a scared, hurt

boy

.” He couldn’t forget he was just a child, at least by Soul Society’s standards.
 
“From the reports, it doesn’t seem like that has changed.”
 
Ukitake argued half heartedly, “He’s dangerous.”
 
Kyoraku shot back. “Is he malicious?”
 
Ukitake swiped his hand down his face and downed the cup, coughing once. “We may not remember it, but we played a part in ruining his life. Is he wrong to despise us?”
 
Kyoraku’s tone was gentle. “You’re projecting. I never saw hate in his eyes, not towards us. He’s frustrated and hurt, yes, but I don’t believe he wishes any in Soul Society undue harm.” He waited until Ukitake met his eyes before he kept going. “It’s your need to think the worst of

us

, that allows you to think the worst of

him

. Your first assumptions were right; he’s been hurt, he’s extremely cautious, but he isn’t sadistic.”
 
“So what’s the point of

this

?” asked Ukitake. He waved a hand at the sand that spilled in over the threshold.
 
“This is a reaction born from fear. Nothing more, and nothing less.” Kyoraku continued, “What does a child do when they have a nightmare?” Ukitake waited for him to answer, so he did. “They cry for help, but if no one does, they quickly understand it's up to them to protect themselves; They won’t cry for help anymore. That leaves two options: fight, or hide. Kurosaki has never been weak. He fought, you can see it in his eyes, and the scars he can’t hide. He fought, and no one was there to help him.”
 
Kyoraku stared down into his cup. “He’s expecting us to hurt him, to fight...I don’t think we should. All of this sand, it’s insurance; he doesn’t trust us. He has more than enough power to fight, but he chose to bog us down, he chose to be cautious.”
 
“You don’t think he’ll kill anyone?”
 
“I never said that,” said Kyoraku. “He’s very dangerous, and he’s

very

unstable, but take a look at the people he refuses to harm; His family, his friends, they’re all perfectly safe. He isn’t unpredictable, and he isn't going out of his way to hurt others.”
 
Ukitake frowned at him, but it lacked heart. “Did you come here to sway my opinion?”
 
Kyoraku face stretched into a slow smile. “No, I think you’ve already made up your mind, but you’re worried you’re making a mistake. I’m here to try to ease your mind, friend.”
 
After a long pause, Ukitake’s eyes lifted from the overturned papers and said, “He hadn’t killed anyone until recently, is it too late to talk?”
 
“He returned Abarai-san unharmed, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was lying on our hybrid friend’s behalf. I think we still have a chance, if we don’t ruin it. Kurosaki is in an unbelievable position of power, there might not even be anything we can do to stop him if we tried, and that’s what gives me hope.”
 
Ukitake looked to him for well deserved clarification. He’d followed these trails of thought before, but not to that end, and Kyoraku was so certain it was a good thing. His friend continued, “He’s had more than enough opportunity to wipe us off the map, and he hasn’t, he chooses not to, he goes out of his way to let us live. Let’s not fool ourselves, the kid has the power, he wasn’t bluffing when he said he could bury Seireitei.”
 
Ukitake grudgingly agreed, spinning his cup on his desk in thought. “No matter how true that is, Central 46 will never cave to his demands, no matter how reasonable.”
 
Kyoraku lifted a finger. “Ah, but see, our little hybrid is smart, the sand forces us into a constant militaristic position, Central weighs in, but its all up to Yamamoto with martial law in place.”
 
Ukitake’s lips turned down into a thoughtful frown. “You think he planned for that?”
 
“Kurosaki isn’t stupid. His head might be a bit scrambled, but he has a decades worth of experience dealing with all of us in another life. He knows us better than we could hope or fear for, and comparatively, we know very little about him.”
 
“He’s very secretive, and his friends are loyal,” said Ukitake, “If we have to go off of observation alone, then yes, we know very little.”
 
“Someone as strong as Kurosaki wouldn’t be overlooked by Soul Society in

any

timeline, and he strikes me as the kind of person that wouldn’t take too kindly to authority. I can only imagine the methods Soul Society used to keep tabs on him. You saw Mayuri’s data on the kido he cast--a couple of years back; that was advanced stuff, and that was before he was on our bad side.” He was confident in his conclusion. “He’s used to being spied on.”
 
Ukitake mused aloud. “He doesn’t seem the type to underestimate, he’s banged up enough that he must have lost a good deal of his battles before he started to win, and those are only the scars we can

see

. It’s no wonder he’s paranoid.”
 
“I don’t think violence is the way to deal with someone like Kurosaki.”
 
With a sigh, Ukitake had to agree. “The risk on our side is much higher, Yamamoto will never go for it. If given the opportunity, he

will

try to seal him.”
 
Shaking his head, Kyoraku sighed, the first signs of real frustration in his voice. “I don’t think it’s necessary, and I don’t believe it will work. Kurosaki will try to avoid violence, he has so far, and not much has changed.”
 
“He killed a member of the onmitsukido.” Ukitake reminded him.
 
Kyoraku played devil's advocate. “And Soul Society threatened his family and friends. Kurosaki never acts without being provoked. Kuchiki-san’s sister, Rukia...she still has faith in him.”
 
“Too much,” Ukitake admitted.
 
“Perhaps…” he trailed off into silence, both of their minds settling in the same place.
 
Ukitake asked, “How would

you

handle Kurosaki?”
 
“He’s already killed the Soul King, what do we really have to lose by working with him?”
 
“We still aren’t entirely sure of the ramifications of that.” Gesturing vaguely at the air Ukitake pulled a face. “The new ambiance seems ominous.” It had taken a couple of days of getting used to, along with the realization it wasn’t going away. It was creepy, to say the least.
 
“Mmmm, and yet so far, harmless.”
 
Ukitake reminded him. “The nights are longer, and we don’t have the ability or the technology to sense whatever is causing it any more than we can feel Kurosaki’s reiatsu.”
 
“Good point,” said Kyoraku, “We could just

ask

him.”
 
Ukitake blinked, because it seemed so simple. “Do you really think it’s that simple?”
 
“He seemed rather open to answering Abarai’s questions. He’s frustrated and he acts like he’s being pressured, or under duress. He doesn’t take any joy from this.” Kyoraku was there the last time Kurosaki had been seen, and it had only solidified his position. His friend shook his head. “Attacking Kurosaki would be a mistake, one that could cost lives. Yamamoto knew more about what Kurosaki was talking about when he said that our God was absent, and Kurosaki wasn’t lying.”
 
“You’re sure?” He realized it was a stupid question as he said it. Kyoraku wouldn’t mistake a lie from Yamamoto, even a cleverly masked one. He amended his question. “If that’s true, why has it been kept a secret?”
 
Kyoraku lifted his shoulders in a shrug and nonverbal urging for Ukitake to explain, because he clearly didn’t have the answers. Ukitake decided it was as good a time as any to share what he knew. “I...had Kiyone follow Rukia.”
 
“And?”
 
“She met with an arrancar. They spoke briefly, but they seemed friendly, if not cautious.”
 
Kyoraku raised a brow. “The same arrancar that’s been seen outside the walls?”
 
“A blonde,” Ukitake said. He chose his words carefully, still wanting to think the best of Kuchiki. “The woman we’re fairly certain is the queen of Las Noches.”
 
He frowned, although it was necessary one of displeasure. “That’s certainly worth noting.”
 
Ukitake surprised Kyoraku, taking the bottle and refilling his drink and his own. “So what are you going to do?”
 
“What makes you think I’m going to do something?” he asked innocently.
 
“You only ask me to drink for two reasons, and nobody’s dead.” Ukitake tried not to sigh, throwing the shot back instead. He set the cup down very deliberately and asked, “What laws are you going to break?”
 
A sheepish look crossed over Kyoraku’s face. “Shouldn’t I be asking if you’re with me before I start spilling all the juicy details?”
 
“When have I ever turned you down?”
 
Kyoraku smiled a smile that had gone from purely vivacious or mischevious to something more refined and placid. “I’m more careful with the favors I ask.” He raised a brow. “So should I start with the treason, or the petty theft?”

--- xxx ---
 Thanks for reading! 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Harribel looked surprised to see him, which confirmed his concerns that she and everyone else were starting to wonder if he really was dead or had mentally fucked off. Her concerns weren’t necessarily invalid, but it did make it feel more real to find himself face to face with the consequences. He felt almost normal

now

, but that was a very recent development, and likely a very transient one.
 
Once she had established he was coherent, she jumped right into business. “Soul Society doesn’t seem interested in talking. I return every day, carefully outside of their barrier, and they still have yet to acknowledge my presence. The only one interested in talking was your shinigami friend. The girl, Rukia. She was very concerned.”
 
Ichigo wasn’t sure why it surprised him to hear that, but it did. He asked, “What did you tell her?”
 
“That you’re alive. No more, no less.”
 
From the way she spoke about Rukia, she was fond of her, and given the company she kept, he really should have expected that. No doubt despite her fondness, she wasn’t willing to risk sharing more information than she should.
 
The look he gave her was full of gratitude as she continued, “She tells me the shinigami you brought to Hueco Mundo lied for you, he kept your mental state to himself. She also tells me she has reason to believe they will attempt to seal you.”
 
That took him back. He remembered the tactics they tried against Aizen in startling clarity. The ache of failure and despair hadn’t faded much with time. They had come so close, and each time Aizen had come out on top, smiling like it was a goddamn picnic.
 
By comparison, Ichigo knew he was just as massive a threat, and just as unpredictable. Running over the events leading up to Zangetsu’s interference, it hadn’t been a pretty picture. At the time he felt just fine, but seeing it through Zangetsu’s eyes was uncomfortable. He would do the same if he was in their shoes, but it still stung.

“They don’t

know

, King. They saw you kill a man that hurt a girl and slaughtered the Central 46. They didn’t live it, they didn’t see you kill a monster, someone that destroyed everything that mattered.”

It wasn’t the reconciliation he wanted. He didn’t expect to be given some sort of hero's treatment, he wasn’t that naive, but to be treated like another Aizen? That gave him pause.

“You are

not

him, King. I don’t know how many times I need to say it.”

‘

That’s not what they think.’

“

Fuck what they think.”

Harribel waited until she had his attention before she asked the question that mattered most. “Does this change anything?”
 
Did it? Probably not. He already knew they were desperate when they put living people at risk just for a chance to kill him. Even the reminder was enough for him to dig his claws into his palms in a simmering anger he hadn’t even begun to get over. “A little. I’m going alone.”
 
That irritated Harribel, he could see it in the narrowing of her eyes and the squaring of her shoulders. He would be ticked off too if he was being cut out of the picture after putting in the time, so he made an effort to explain why. “I’m going alone so they can spring their trap. If you get tangled in that mess, you could be captured or killed, and then who’s left?

Starrk

?” No offense to Starrk, but the arrancar was even less of a leader than he was.
 
There was a reproachful edge in her tone. “Is it wise to waltz straight into their trap?”
 
She had a roundabout way of implying he had a few loose marbles, but it was a effective. He said, “I’d rather walk into it on my own terms then have it sprung on me when I’m not prepared.”
 
She looked briefly amused, tilting her head. “Ichigo, you’re

always

prepared for the worst.”
 
He gave her a helpless look and a slight shrug. “Fine, I’m cautious, but I’d still rather deal with them when I’m looking for it.”
 
She asked, “You know what they’ll do?”
 
In the past, Soul Society has gotten rather creative with their Kido attempts, each more devastating than the last. He didn’t even understand Kido and he knew the spells were complicated, and powerful, but he’d never had them turned against him before. Well, nothing short of high tier offensive spells from Aizen. “I have a pretty good idea, and even if it works, it won’t last.”
 
“You know that for certain?”
 
“Alteza has always breezed past Kido like it isn’t there. It might affect

me

, but it won’t affect the Gods, and they won’t stand to lose their

precious

host.”
 
There was a sarcastic bite in his voice, one lined with anger and an undercurrent of hysteria, but this was something Harribel was used to. She wasn’t daunted by the shift in his tone. “You always do as you please, I can’t stop you, but I don’t like the idea of you going alone.”
 
“Noted. I’m an arrogant asshole, I can live with that.”
 
“Must you go

alone

?” she stressed.
 
He recognized that look, and he owed her more than a brush off. He said, “I’m not taking Grimmjow, I’m not taking anyone that could potentially be captured.” He clenched his hands into fists at the reminder, resisting the urge to pace. Grimmjow had already come painfully close to becoming another one of Mayuri’s experiments. It was luck that he’d remembered him, pure, stupid luck. If his thoughts had swayed just a little too far from his own heart, he might have killed Grimmjow himself, and he wasn’t going to forget that.
 
He shook his head, adamant. “

They’ll kill you

, but they

can’t

kill me.”
 
He still felt ill, he’d come so close to everything unraveling, and he was just one solid push away from a ledge he wasn’t sure he could climb back up on. He didn’t hide that from Harribel, he’d promised he wouldn’t, but he was ashamed that she noticed nonetheless.
 
She put herself in his line of sight. “You take too much responsibility for others,

relax

. If we both must compromise, let someone keep tabs on you from beyond Seireitei’s walls. I’d much rather know where you are than have to rely on rumors and conjecture.”
 
She was right, and

of course

she was right, she wasn’t in the thick of it, she had the perspective to see him from the outside. He let out a long, slow breath, his expression slightly guilty. “I won’t bring Grimmjow but...I’m not opposed if you send someone to shadow me.” He added hastily. “From a distance.”
 
Her shoulders fell, relieved that he wasn’t going to fight her. “Who would you send?”
 
He couldn’t help the slightly sheepish grin that snuck its way onto his face. “Starrk?”
 
She definitely didn’t like Starrk, but she couldn’t offer up anyone better. She asked, “Will he even choose to go?”
 
“If I ask.” He knew that without a doubt, and he wasn’t quite sure where the confidence for that came from. “He didn’t want to get involved, but he’s strong and he’s smart, he won’t rush into a fight.”
 
She nodded in begrudging agreement, shifting smoothly into another topic. “Speaking of Starrk. What were you going to do with Ulquiorra?”
 
He stiffened at the name. “What do you mean?”
 
Harribel shifted, under the sudden realization that she was the bearer of bad news. Her tone was flippant, so it couldn’t be that bad, but it was enough that she was steeling herself for anger. He pressed, “

Harribel

.”
 
She spoke slowly. “Your father came looking for you. Ulquiorra attacked him, but Grimmjow and Starrk intervened before it could get rough.”
 
Her fears were justified, he was beyond angry. His eyes shifted to the side, his attention focusing inward.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

“It was just gonna make ya angry, King. Your old man can take care of himself.”

‘That isn’t the point. Ulquiorra should have been able to tell who he was, he did it deliberately.’

“There were more pressing problems to attend to, Ichigo.”

And that was the best apology he would get. His eyes snapped back to Harribel and she tightened her jaw, daring him to take his anger out on her. That would be unfair at best. He was angry that Ulquiorra targeted his family, but that wasn’t her fault.
 
He folded his arms over his chest, physically reminding himself to be still. He asked, “What happened?”
 
He thought he saw a glimmer of pride in her eyes, she seemed pleased that his trigger response hadn’t been to simply hunt the Espada down and kill him.

“Progress, Ichigo.”

She said, “From the way Starrk reports, it sounded as if the Espada was toying with your father. I would wager his interest is in you, not the shinigami. Although, I can’t say why.”
 
She looked to him like he might explain, but Ichigo wasn’t so sure he could. He settled for a half truth. “He wanted to make me angry.” His voice was insipid. “It worked.” Ulquiorra was a demanding bastard, and never at an opportune moment. Just the threat of taking something important to him must have been enough to fascinate the arrancar. He could live with a threat to Grimmjow, but not his immediate family.
 
He knew his father could take care of himself, but it wasn’t just his life on the line; it was Yuzu and Karin and whatever sense of normalcy in their life they might have left. His father was an idiot for putting that at risk to come to Hueco Mundo, but he knew he’d come in part on their behalf. Older brothers were supposed to be there for their little sisters, and he just wasn’t. Their frustration with him was entirely warranted.
 
“Ichigo?” He looked back at her, unsure how long he’d been quiet, but it was enough Harribel noticed.
 
He boxed those feelings up, it wasn’t an immediate problem, and he was angry enough without heaping more kindling onto the fire. He tried to reassure her, but even he could hear the tilt in his voice. “I’ll deal with him later, for now I’m going to confront Soul Society.”
 
“You often don’t realize, so let me remind you. The arrancar are afraid.” She pointed up, and that was more than a thousand words. “They deserve answers, and they won’t hear them from me. Alteza is your domain, not mine.” She lowered her arm. “That beside, many don’t even believe you’re alive, you can’t afford to be absent.”
 
She was right and he knew it. Las Noches was more her responsibility than his own, but his extended to all of Hueco Mundo. Some of that was self imposed, but the rest, the part Alteza wouldn’t allow him to ignore, not so much. It was an ever increasing, nagging urge to

change

things, and he could only attribute it to the sudden lack of the Soul King.
 
The ruin and chaos that made up Hueco Mundo wasn’t natural, Alteza pressured him to fix what had been broken with a deadly need that was no different than having a sword at his throat. He would have to,

eventually

, but for now, its focus was balance. Whatever that meant.
 
Regardless of his own plans, Hueco Mundo had a pulse all its own, one he was compelled to protect as much as die Konigin was braying to devour what was left of it. It was a strange synergy, but so long as he forced his Quincy side down, it was manageable. For now, Hueco Mundo needed the attention he didn’t need to give, but what he

should

give.
 
He growled, “You’re right, I can’t.” He didn’t like it, but that’s the way it was. If Harribel thought he shouldn’t shirk that duty, he was inclined to believe her.
 
She stopped him before he could act on that decision. “You should wait for Grimmjow.”
 
That caught him off guard, his brows furrowing. He didn’t understand her urgency. “Why?”
 
“For starters, you’re never seen without him. If you show up alone, it would raise doubts.”
 
He hadn’t thought about that. Lately, where he went Grimmjow was close behind. He depended on him for more than he should. He knew others had started to notice, but to this extent? “Fuck,” he muttered.
 
“Is there a problem with that?” She didn’t sound too concerned, she knew well enough that if something bad had happened to Grimmjow, she and everyone around him would know about it.
 
“He looks...different.” It would raise questions, and not good ones.
 
“What do you mean by different?”
 
He hadn’t told her

why

he was awake yet. He didn’t want to, but when she looked at him, she could see he was hiding something from her, and rather than be frustrated with him, or upset, she looked patient. He hadn’t anticipated that, and he was once again struck with the thought that it was unreasonable to hide reality from her. It had everything to do with her, with all hollows.
 
He started slowly, “La sangre changed him..

is

changing him.” He lifted his hand to his face, a claw tracing his jaw in a mirror of Grimmjow’s mask fragments. “His mask is black with it, so are his eyes. None of you are strong enough to withstand Alteza, you’ve seen what happens to arrancar I pull through it, and that’s only brief contact. It’s poisoning his soul, he’s sharing the burden, and that’s what

allows

me to live unhindered.” As if he sanity were some great privilege.
 He dropped his arm and forced himself not to look away, his voice wavering. “It’s killing him and it’s because I’m still not strong enough.” He chewed on those words in aggravation, claws biting into his palms. 
He held their lives in his hands, he could shape their very

souls

, and it still wasn’t enough. He knew she would try to console him, she always did. The only people he let himself crumble before were Grimmjow and Harribel. Around everyone else, he had to be unfailing, powerful. He couldn't always succeed, but it was what he had to project. He couldn’t afford to let himself become a target, because that painted a target on the backs of everyone he cared for.
 
He’d started to breath harder and faster, swept away by that creeping panic. Harribel reached for his chest, her hand hovering over the void in his heart. “Shhhhh. Many,

many

people believe in you, Ichigo, and not all of that is to do with your strength. I’ve seen you do things that should be impossible. If anyone can save your fraccion, it’s you, and if ever there was a more stubborn arrancar than Grimmjow, I’ve never met them.”
 
She started to draw her hand back, but he caught it, squeezing her fingers together in a gentle grip. It was an impulsive action, and one he didn’t regret. Harribel was by no stretch of the imagination

weak

, but just the right amount of pressure could shatter the bones in her hand. She wasn’t scared of him, not on a personal level. She trusted that he wouldn’t harm her, by accident or on purpose, and while he wasn’t one to seek contact of any kind, he couldn’t let that gentle offer go.
 
It wasn’t much contact at all, but he could feel the depth of her trust in her heart; her desire to protect the arrancar she cared about, her confidence, her pride, her regret...She knew her heart was an open book, but she offered anyway. He let go, his hand slowly uncurling from hers. “I don’t know how you can have so much faith in me, I’m unpredictable.”
 
“That isn’t the word I would choose.” She dropped her hand, tilting her head. “There are a good many things you can be counted on for.” She added delicately. ”Not to say all of those things are strictly positive. You never forget a slight against those under your protection; that’s as predictable as can be.”
 
She wasn’t wrong, Aizen had ruthlessly exploited that trait to the point of lunacy. He let out an exaggerated sigh. “You know what I mean.”
 
“I do, and I’m telling you that isn’t how you’re perceived.” He looked at her, brows drawn in confusion as she explained. “You’ve turned over a hundred arrancar at great risk to yourself. You enforce punishment on arrancar that prey on weaker arrancar within Las Noches. You brought back the arrancar still being held by the Quincy, you gave them another chance. They fear your power, and they fear your vengeance, but they don’t fear

you

. Not anymore.”
 
He hadn’t given it that much thought, he didn’t like to mingle with any arrancar for any extended period, he was afraid he would slip, that he might harm them, or kill them, or show weakness. He hadn’t realized that in the process, it allowed something of a myth to spring up around the truth. “And you want me to talk to them, show them I failed, that I let my own fraccion be dragged into my mess.”
 
Harribel made a chiding sound. “Give Grimmjow more credit than that. He’s loyal, he follows you so closely for a reason. What is a subordinate, but support where it’s needed most? They won’t see failure if you don’t allow them to see it. They’ll see an arrancar with the fortitude to put his very soul on the line to help his king, and a king with the humility to respect that sacrifice.”
 
For a moment, he was taken aback. He hadn’t considered it that way, and she was right, Grimmjow wasn’t a victim, never that, and treating him that way was only diminishing what he’d done, regardless of the fact he hadn’t quite known what he was getting into to begin with. He looked away, feeling foolish for not realizing sooner, and let out a sharp exhale. “You’re so much better at this than I am. You spend more time fixing my mistakes.”
 
Humor shone in her eyes. “You’re very used to handling things on your own. To an extreme, even for an arrancar, but you’re adapting quickly.”
 
He balked. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
 
More humor. “It worked.” She made a sweeping gesture. “

Now

you may go.”
 
He let out a snort of breathy laughter. “Thank you, jotei.” She was right, he was rude and he did as he pleased, though it was never out of any disrespect for her.
 
With Harribel’s advice in mind, his plans had shifted. While it was tempting to seek out Ulquiorra, he knew he should wait. If he didn’t know from past experience how little Ulquiorra actually listened to authority, he’d think he was shrugging off his threats as bluffs, but he knew that wasn’t the case.
 
Before he could work himself up over it, he went after Starrk. His reiatsu was usually a strong, steady tenor in the backdrop of Las Noches, but he’d noticed it was different. It was, in all reality, comparable to his own. No one could feel it, but Ichigo’s reiatsu still dipped and spiked all over the place. It was tied to his emotions, and that was a fucking roller coaster, even hollowfied.
 
He stepped through la sangre, careful not to drop himself close enough to startle. Unfortunately, he still ended up behind him. He wasn’t

that

good, not when Starrk’s reiatsu was a few steps short of aggressive. It hung around him in a cloud, obscuring his mental visual enough that he had to wonder why.
 
“Starrk?”
 
The arrancar stiffened, clearly surprised he was there, and as he turned, Ichigo saw how wildly uncomfortable he looked to see him. He also looked

tired

. A week of restless sleep wasn’t doing him any favors.
 
Lilynette wasn’t there, and if he focused, he could sense her miles away with Pesche. He didn’t think it was such a good thing that Starrk was isolating himself from the other half of his soul. He knew from experience just how damaging that could be.
 
Filing those thoughts away, Ichigo said, “You protected my father.” Starrk looked like he was struggling to maintain eye contact. “Thank you.” That did it. Starrk looked away in what looked like shame. That was unusual, and Ichigo couldn’t think of a reason for it.
 
The Espada said, “I hardly did anything, I just showed up. Grimmjow was the one fighting.”
 
He hadn’t heard the story, but it wasn’t surprising to him anymore that Grimmjow would fight to protect people he didn’t necessarily give a damn about. Somewhere along the line, Grimmjow started fighting to protect the things Ichigo cared about, without being asked or coerced, and he still wasn’t sure that kind of loyalty was deserved.
 
Ichigo closed the distance between them with a casual flicker of sonido, but it was still faster than what Starrk could follow. Regardless of that, he didn’t flinch. Starrk had the confidence of someone who had always been at the top of the food chain, he didn’t have the same kind of reflexes Grimmjow had.
 
Ichigo said, “Regardless of what Grimmjow did, you have my gratitude. Why does that bother you so much?”
 
Starrk still wouldn’t quite look at him, his eyes wandering along the walls. “I hate people that take advantage...I realized I’m one of those people. I went crying to you to fix problems of my own creation. You’ve done me a lot of favors, intentionally or not, and I’ve done almost nothing in return.”
 
Ichigo interjected. “I didn’t expect you too.”
 
Starrk finally looked at him. “I know...and that’s what cuts deepest. I’m glad you couldn’t fix me, it would have just been one more favor I didn’t deserve.”
 
“

Starrk

.” His tone was harsh, feeling a spike of anger, although he was unsure of the source. “If you feel the need to return some sort of debt, I can’t change your mind, but what

you deserve

isn’t up for debate.

I

decide what you deserve, and you don’t deserve to suffer a broken soul.

I will fix you.

” Starrk stared at him in shock. He paused, his voice losing volume. “Until then,

try

to be patient, and stop punishing yourself.”
 
He looked away, looking for all intents and purposes like a kicked dog. That wasn’t what he wanted to see. He grabbed him by a fistful of jacket and turned, pulling Starrk after him until he got the hint and kept pace.
 
“You needed something?” Starrk sounded a little hopeful.
 
“In fact, I do, but before that, you’re going to get some fucking sleep, you look like death.”
 
He scoffed, tone heavy with sarcasm. “

Thanks

.”
 
It was weird being on the other end of the sleep argument, he could see why Zangetsu and Grimmjow and...everyone, got so upset about it. Except he was wielding several nukes worth of power...yeah, now he got it.
 
After a moment, Starrk started to realize where they were going, because he asked, “What happened to you? The one that looks like you...what’s his name...”
 
“Zangetsu,” he supplied.
 
“He wouldn’t let anyone close.”
 
He remembered that from Zangetsu’s memories, although deterring an upset Harribel and a single adjuchas had been enough for word to spread. His steps slowed as he mulled over his answer. “Doesn’t matter,” he decided. “I’m better now.” He hadn’t completely convinced himself of this, but he hoped Starrk believed him. If he didn’t, he made no mention of it. He added, “I’ll talk to everyone once Grimmjow wakes up.” That caught Starrk’s attention; maybe it was the way he said it. He thought he’d been careful.
 
“He’s asleep?”
 
“We’re not going for a stroll because it’s romantic. I’m already babysitting one sleeping arrancar, what’s one more?”
 
“I don’t need-” he started.
 
“A babysitter?” Ichigo finished. “You do, because I’m going to

make

you sleep.” Before he could argue, he added, “No, you don’t get a say in it.”
 
Starrk shut his mouth, looking a bit peeved, but he had no more comment. That was another reason he liked Starrk; he wasn’t too talkative.
 
Ichigo slipped into a slow sonido, and Starrk followed silently until they were close enough to Grimmjow and his Zanpakuto to actually see them. The Espada flickered into sight beside him, his eyes locked onto the mask on Grimmjow’s face.
 
Ichigo preemptively deterred any questions by simply knocking Starrk unconscious. He was down and out before he even knew what hit him. A whole lot of Kido. Potentially the only Kido he could reliably cast.
 
He caught Starrk before he could hit the ground. Laying him down near enough to Grimmjow that they were both in sight. Zangetsu didn’t seem to care much either way that they were plus one unconscious arrancar. His hollow asked, “What’s the wolf doing here?”
 
“He still hasn’t been sleeping, and if he’s going to be any help at all, he needs it. He’s also my responsibility,” he lifted his shoulder in a shrug, “and I just feel sorry for him.”
 
Zangetsu couldn’t exactly argue that. Ichigo caught him up to speed on “the plan”. Which wasn’t all that different from the earlier plan, but this one involved being a little less emotional about it. Zangetsu didn’t seem to mind either way, he was still going to be watching his back from the shadows. Zangetsu wasn’t exactly stealth personified, but anyone that ran into him would be down for the count, so it was close enough.
 
There was another he’d brought Starrk back to Grimmjow. He was going to sift through his soul...without his explicit consent, but he’d rather do it when the Espada wasn’t awake to look him in the eye and

know

he’d seen all his darkest fears and pain. He was a little bit of a coward about it, especially when Starrk was so similar to himself.
 
He sat down cross legged beside him and closed his eyes. He

looked

. He looked and looked and looked, and didn’t see any easy way to fix him. He had indeed torn his soul in two, it was as frayed and raw as a broken heart, and just as uncomfortable to look at.
 
In the way of all arrancar, he was a compounded mess of souls, but what he wanted to know was how Lilynette was formed at all. She wasn’t like a Zanpakuto spirit, she reminded Ichigo of the panther he’d seen in his inner world. Grimmjow’s inner heart was just an adjuchas version of himself, or at least, that’s what he assumed. He didn’t care to know why, it seemed too personal. Somehow, Starrk’s soul, was to the Espada, a young girl. Why that was, Ichigo didn’t know, nor was he entirely sure it was relevant.
 
Starrk was right about Lilynette hosting different aspects of his soul. It wasn’t that Starrk couldn’t feel happiness, it was secondhand, in the way he could often feel Zangetsu’s anger and rage. What he didn’t know how to do was put him back together. “Fixing” Hirako had been easy; he’d guided his soul through hollowfication, preventing soul suicide from even being an option. La sangre was greedy, and it didn’t play well inside a shinigami soul.
 
Fixing Starrk would be a lot like reattaching a limb...or performing heart surgery with nothing but hopes and dreams as surgical tools. Segunda etapa was a good guess on how to fix himself. Grimmjow was denying his heart, accepting it was hard, but it was still

in

him. Starrk had gone one step past Ulquiorra and mutilated his soul beyond recognition. His resurrección was a quick patch at best, but his fear of his own power even held that back. Ichigo couldn’t even be sure of how little of his power Starrk was accessing, but it was pitifully small.
 
Ichigo knew what it was like to fear his own power. He’d hurt so many, intentionally, and accidentally and merely because they dared be close to him at all. Starrk’s own fear bordered on insanity, and maybe it was.
 
He opened his eyes, frowning down at the sleeping Espada. He propped his head on his hand and muttered, “Fucking hell, Starrk…” All of his arrancar were fucked in the head, but some suffered more than most, and he wasn’t sure if the urge to fix them was always his own, but the desire was a strong one nonetheless.
 
“Think you can put ‘im back together?” Zangetsu asked from somewhere behind him.
 
“Maybe...if I was going to successfully do it, I think I’d need to rely on memories from others that I can’t easily access, thanks to Grimmjow, and if I could, apparently it makes me raving mad.” Frustrating.
 
Zangetsu asked, “What’s the worst that could happen?” He wasn’t being facetious, his question was genuine.
 
“A lot can go wrong. Starrk could reject his soul, or they might have been separate long enough that merging them back together isn’t possible...not while retaining who he is.”
 
“Can’t you practice on an arrancar we don’t give a single shit about?”
 
Ichigo snorted. “I have yet to discover an arrancar that’s done this. Ulquiorra comes close, but it isn’t nearly as severe.”
 
He could tell it physically hurt his hollow to suggest it as he growled, “Could Szayel help?”
 
He hadn’t considered that. He was silent for a stretch, eyes narrowing. Maybe Szayel could, if he actually

let

the Espada try, and if he trusted him to do it. He could remember flickers of what the Espada had done to him, enough to know that soul-wrenching agony he’d felt had actually been pain of the soul. The reminder brought back the sweeping prickle of forgotten pain over his skin. He wasn’t weak, he wasn’t, he was

whole

. And Starrk decidedly wasn’t.
 
He pushed the memories away, focusing instead on the lilting whispers and howls of the Gods.
 
He had time, Zangetsu would let him know when Grimmjow was awake. He straightened and said, “Watch him.” It was redundant, they both knew Zangetsu would watch him with just as much attentiveness as Grimmjow. He couldn’t stand it when people under his protection were hurt.
 
He stepped through la sangre to Szayel, not giving him nearly the same level of consideration he’d given Starrk. He appeared behind him, and it gave him immense satisfaction to see the arrancar jump when he spoke. “

Szayel

.”
 
The Espada whirled, annoyance and a flicker of fear in his eyes. He said nothing, waiting to see what Ichigo wanted, but he caught wind of his mood easily enough. Ichigo pressed. “You research hollows, don’t you?”
 
A spark lit in Szayel’s eyes, his lips twitching up into a stiff smile. “I dabble.”
 
Ichigo knew he did more than dabble, he’d been on the receiving end of his attention once before. He’d been turning a blind eye to whatever the fuck it was he did, just so long as he left

his

arrancar alone. Ichigo knew Szayel had gotten the point; Las Noches was off limits. What he did outside those walls, well...he couldn’t save everyone, and he wasn’t so naive as to forget the nature of the hollows he ruled.
 
Ichigo asked, “What would you need to rejoin a split soul?”
 
Interest glittered in his eyes just as much as that masked sadism. “Hnnn, you assume it can be done at all.”
 
“Giving up so soon?” Ichigo derided.
 
Szayel smiled. “What spurred this question?”
 
Ichigo considered ignoring him, but decided he might actually need to know. “Starrk.”
 
“Ah,

I see

. He’s a fascinating one. Are you offering to let me study him?”
 
“What would you need?” Ichigo repeated.
 
Szayel’s smile widened, confident in his answer. “The soul in question, of course.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not letting you experiment on and potentially destroy my strongest Espada.”
 
“Then we’re at an impasse.” Liar, liar,

liar

.
 
Ichigo closed the distance between them, his fingertips resting over his heart. He articulated slowly. “Can you, or can you not, do what I ask?” Szayel’s eyes widened, his confidence wavering under the gentle threat. Ichigo pressed forward, leaning closer. “I know you didn’t stop taking things apart. You just can’t help yourself, can you? You tinker, you take them apart and put them back together. I just don’t know how you’re hiding it from me.”
 
He could feel no living hollows in his lab besides his fucked up fraccion, but he knew without a doubt he hadn’t stopped experimenting. He had a feeling Szayel went out of his way to test his limits. He wasn’t feeling cautiously for a line to cross, he’d brazenly waltzed over it and tested to see what he could and couldn’t get away with.
 
Szayel started. “You said-”
 
“

I know

,” Ichigo snarled, “what I said.” Szayel flinched, but stayed very still, his eyes dropping in the hope he would back down. He’d allowed him to hunt hollows, but doubtless the arrancar hid it from him as a sort of challenge so he couldn’t disapprove of his methods. “Now tell me, this time be truthful. What would you need?”
 
Szayel’s eyes stayed focused somewhere on the floor, not willing to invite violence. “A living arrancar...preferably several. Even then…”
 
“I can shape a soul, to an extent. It’s primitive, and very unpredictable. You would have that skill to draw on.” Szayel’s eyes flicked up to meet his in shock, clearly the scientist hadn’t expected participation. He asked again. “Can you do it?”
 
Szayel looked insulted. “Tsk, if my hands aren’t tied, then yes, I believe I could rejoin a soul.” He stepped carefully around what he said next. “You aren’t going to ask the shinigami?”
 
He could only mean Urahara, and that he was asking at all only meant he was reaffirming the job he’d just been given. “No.” Ichigo leaned back, giving Szayel a touch more space. “He isn’t one of us.

You’re

going to do it, and only with the hollows I bring you.”
 
Szayel waved a hand in casual dismissal, too eager to move on. “Yes, yes, I understand.”
 
Ichigo really wasn’t in the mood. His hand snapped out, tightening around his throat. “

Do you?

” Szayel stiffened, real fear clouding his eyes. It felt like yesterday he was digging, twisting,

tearing

his soul. He hadn’t forgotten, he hadn’t, he couldn’t. He ground his teeth rather than the bones in his neck, uncurling his fingers one by one.

“King.”

With as turbulent as his emotions had been, he was surprised it took nearly killing Szayel to draw words from Zangetsu.

‘I’m fine.’

Szayel sucked in shuddering breaths, watching him like a cornered animal. Ichigo wasn’t done. He lifted his chin with a claw, baring his throat, and asked, “Do you understand?”
 
This time Szayel’s answer was genuine. “Yes, heika.”
 
He drew his claw away, drawing blood as he did. “Keep this between us, Szayel.”

The arrancar dropped his eyes with a stiff nod, doing everything he could to seem smaller. He wasn’t about to invite death, he wasn’t that stupid, and his ego wasn’t so intrusive he would cave to it.

“Who’s getting the axe?”

Zangetsu sounded a bit too eager.

‘Any adjuchas I’d rather violently murder than allow to live in Las Noches as an arrancar.’

“Any reason you’re keeping it a secret?”

‘I’d rather my family not know I just gave a psycho permission to torture arrancar to death.’

He didn’t think he needed a better reason. Let them think the best of him, even if it wasn’t true. He had absolutely no regrets over letting Szayel do to others what had been done to himself. He’d already gone out of his way to name himself judge, jury, and executioner, he might as well follow through.
 
He gave Szayel one last warning before he left. “Do not mistake indifference for ignorance. I

choose

to let you continue your games because, frankly, I’d rather not know the details of what you do with your time.” He had enough unpleasant memories, he didn’t want more. His attention was on the hollows within Las Noches, if Szayel tried to cull the herd, he would know, and he hadn’t, so he got to keep on living.
 
Szayel bent in a stiff bow, unwilling to make eye contact, and it gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction that he could still scare the Espada. He hadn’t changed his mind, he

loathed

Szayel, and if he wasn’t useful, he would be probably be dead. “It’s at least something to think about.”
 
He meant that broadly, leaving Szayel in his lab alone to put some sand dunes in their place. He was angry, and he’d rather work out his aggression on unsuspecting sand than on his arrancar.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Candice Catnipp
 
It wasn’t that Candice hated Hueco Mundo, especially not she saw the way Neliel’s eyes lit up when she spoke about the desert, about the fun she’d had with her friends there. Weird that, to imagine hollows having friends and relationships, but she was slowly getting used to it.
 
To Candice, it was still a place she’d considered to be a hunting ground, and it made her a bit uncomfortable to know she had been the monster under the bed for Neliel when she was trapped as a child. Quincy and shinigami both had ruthlessly hunted her kind, and now that she knew how different an arrancar was from a mindless hollow, she felt...bad?
 
Standing there next to Neliel, she got more than dirty looks, some looks were outright murderous. Neliel acted different when they were in living world, or alone. Standing here among Espada and arrancar, she looked...hot was definitely a word she would use, but that wasn’t very descriptive. She looked assertive, strong, unwavering.
 
Neliel stood close to her, no longer her jailer or her keeper, but a friend. That was still weird to consider, and it still made her a bit angry, and she wasn’t sure why. Neliel took her anger in stride, she didn’t think she deserved that kind of forgiveness. She tried to push her away, but Nel just wouldn’t go.
 
Nel thought

she

was the assertive, strong one, but that wasn’t how Candice saw it. Hers was a mask, something to put on like boots. It helped in the moment, but when Nel looked at her, when she didn’t let her hide, it made her angry.
 
She’d recently seen the tattoo bold on her lower back, and asking what it meant, she discovered there was a good deal she didn’t know about Neliel. Neliel’s past was fuzzy, and she didn’t seem too keen to talk about it, no more than Candice wanted to talk about her own past, so they focused on other things.
 
Nel knew how much she liked living world, and Nel liked it too, so when she got the call to return to Hueco Mundo, Candice figured it must have been urgent. She said Harribel was calling a meeting, with everyone apparently, and with how large Hueco Mundo was, it took some waiting for everyone to actually get there, and those that couldn’t would just have to hear it from someone else.
 
Despite some of the arrancar’s unhealthy interest in her, most kept their distance, all except for a trio of women she’d had plenty of fights with, she just assumed they were Espada. They didn’t look or dress any different, but the weaker arrancar parted like the fuckin’ Red Sea around them.
 
The brunette cast Neliel a sly smile. “Finally tamed the Quincy?”
 
Candice opened her mouth to object, but Neliel beat her to it. “If that’s what they’re calling fucking these days.”
 
Apacci blushed and Candice looked aghast. It was always surprising how filthy the words that came out of her mouth were. To be fair, she fucking

liked

it, but the surprise came at the casual ease that she announced it. “You going to blab to

everyone

then?”
 
Nel smirked innocently, standing a little straighter. “Brag, not blab.”
 
Candice got a good handful of her hair, tugging her a little closer. “I told you not to tell.”
 
Nel’s eyes burned mischievously, the arrancar knew was she was doing, the adorable little brat. Her mouth slid into an easy smile despite the anger on Candice’s face. “Oops.”
 
Apacci fumed. “You were supposed to watch her not

fuck her

!”
 
Candice let her go, turning her attention to the smaller arrancar. She was a

loud

bitch, and now everyone knew. She gave her an angry smirk. “

I

fucked

her

.” Nel beamed. “I’m not

tame

.”
 
The brunette looked less smug. “Should she even be here?”
 
“Because I’m a

Quincy

?” sneered Candice. Nel caught the shift in her tone, tensing, but didn’t intervene. “You won, don’t you get it?

It doesn’t matter.

”
 
If her tone bothered the arrancar, it didn’t show. She looked like she hadn’t thought of that, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re the enemy, of course it matters.”
 
Candice snapped, “Isn’t that up to your asshole King?” She didn’t get it, he was ludicrously strong, but she didn’t understand why Nel liked him so much.
 
Her comment earned annoyance from everyone but Nel. Every time she talked shit about Kurosaki she felt like she was swearing in front of a nun. Nel didn’t look angry with her, or even like she wanted to convince her otherwise, she just looked distantly disappointed, and she didn’t know why.
 
Apacci hissed, “I still don’t see why he let you all live.”
 
Nel cut in, real anger in her voice. “Ichigo wouldn’t go so far. The shinigami did.” Candice looked at her, certain this was the first time she’d ever heard Nel be vocal about anything that had happened to the Quincy. Then again, Nel had a strong sense of justice, she shouldn’t be surprised.
 
None of them got to say more, reiatsu fell around them all, heavy and oppressive.

Kurosaki’s

reiatsu.
 
Just like that, he was there, and he had everyone’s immediate attention. He stood among the Espada, not even a hundred feet from her. He was different than she remembered. She’d seen the visored when he was furious, but she hadn’t seen him in his element.
 
He stood with his hands at his sides, shoulders squared, relaxed, confident. It was hard to gauge his expression with the dark streaks obscuring his eyes, but his irises blazed against dark sclera, fixing on her for an instant, before moved on. Even being the focus of his attention for that moment had Candice stiffening in fear. It was embarrassing how relieved she felt when his attention moved on to someone else.
 
She was so distracted by Kurosaki’s commanding presence, she almost didn’t notice the blue haired one. He was there the first time, so she could see now that he was different. His eyes were dark, and the jawbone on his face was black. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a black hollow mask, it was strange enough to catch her eye, and keep it. He still had that scowl on his face, he seemed to be fine.
 
There was a ripple of unease across the arrancar, one Kurosaki acknowledged with a gentle canting of his head. His reiatsu pulled back, disappearing completely now that he had their attention. He projected, “I’m sure all of you have noticed.” He pointed at the sky. It wasn’t visible from the room they were in, but Candice would never forget the nightmares she’d seen there. Nel had made certain to open a garganta directly within the walls of Las Noches after that first trip back.
 
Kurosaki continued, his voice noticeably steady. “It looks hellish, but it’s harmless...to

you

. If you want to be cautious, I wouldn’t go firing any ceros at it. I killed the Soul King, Alteza is ravenous to expand, and without the Soul King to pressure Hueco Mundo, its power is only growing, which is why you can see what I see.”
 
A blonde Espada boldly interrupted, but Kurosaki didn’t seem to mind. “You want us to ignore it? Are you insane?”
 
That question forced a bark of laughter from Kurosaki, the gleam in his eyes sharp enough that the Espada took a step back. “Yes. You’re all children of Alteza, it won’t cannibalize its own unless you’re dead. La sangre might be unpleasant to touch, but being a hollow has nothing to do with being

comfortable

.” He cocked his head at the blonde and asked a rhetorical question. “Does it?”
 
A creepy looking arrancar with green eyes and a flat expression spoke from the back corner of the room. “What happened to your fraccion?” So that was the question on everyone’s mind, his mask wasn’t normal.
 
The look Ichigo shot him was cold and murderous, but it didn’t match his tone of voice, he still sounded carefully calm. “He might look different, and his reiatsu might feel different, but-”
 
“I’m the fuckin’ same!” Grimmjow’s voice echoed in the space, making some of the weaker arrancar cringe back.
 
Kurosaki shot Grimmjow a look that was leagues different that the one he’d flashed the other arrancar. The exasperated and bemused look on his face was shocking to her. That was a look shared by family and close friends, not hollows and tyrants. It had taken until that moment to see him as a person with friends and a life and responsibility...not just a monster.
 
Kurosaki continued, “His mask is black because he’s been changed by la sangre, that’s really all you need to know.”
 
The green-eyed arrancar pressed harder. “Why?”
 
Kurosaki looked briefly annoyed, then his shoulders fell with a sharp sigh. “Is it easier to break one arrow, or two, or twelve?”
 
The blonde male blurted, “What?”
 
“It’s a metaphor, Yylfordt,” Apacci groaned.
 
“The fuck is a metaphor?”
 
“It means,” said Kurosaki, “that Grimmjow is holding up some of the weight, some of the pressure Alteza and die Konigin put on me. Doing so frees up my mind.” He didn’t explain what that meant, but Candice couldn’t help but remember how much more volatile he’d been before.
 
The creepy arrancar asked, “What is the cost for such an exchange?” He asked it like he knew, but how he knew, Candice couldn’t say.
 
Grimmjow answered instead. “A whole lot of dying.” His expression was twisted into a snarl just daring anyone to challenge him. Kurosaki looked at him, but his expression was very carefully blank.
 
The creepy arrancar said, “And how many do you intend to drag into your suicide pact?”
 
It was the first sign of real emotion Candice heard in his voice, thought she couldn’t put her finger on what emotion it could possibly be; Disgust, anger, judgement?
 
Kurosaki’s posture shifted, turning to face him more fully. “Only one,

Ulquiorra

.”
 
In a flurry of movement Candice could barely track, Ulquiorra and Kurosaki blurred into sonido. Kurosaki cancelled out a cero by grabbing Ulquiorra’s hand in his own, black reiatsu smothering green in a violent overflow of energy. Kurosaki whipped him around by his wrist and threw him bodily into the wall. It cratered under the impact, cracks painting a spiderweb in the wall. Instead of slouching to the ground, Kurosaki drove a sword straight through his chest. No, he drove it through his hollow hole, pinning him in place.
 
She realized it wasn’t Kurosaki’s sword, his were still on his back and at his side...she hadn’t even seen him take Ulquiorra’s. The Espada grasped the blade of his sword in his hand, trying to alleviate the pressure in his chest. Kurosaki pushed the sword in deeper, leaning closer. She couldn’t hear what he said, but Ulquiorra’s reaction was shock.
 
He grabbed the Espada by the mask on his face, claws digging in like he was testing its very endurance. His mask cracked, a sharp sound that made Candice’s guts clench, and he began to scream. A chill raced up her spine, taking a sharp step back, directly into Nel. She felt her drop a hand to her shoulder in reassurance, and glancing around, no one else seemed concerned by this. Kurosaki had overwhelmed an Espada with

his bare hands

, and now he’d done something to his very

soul

, she could feel it in the reishi around them.
 
Nel spoke softly. “Ulquiorra is always getting under his skin, this isn’t out of nowhere.”
 
“It sure seems like it,” hissed Candice.
 
“Ulquiorra attacked his father, I’m shocked he didn’t just kill him. This is more mercy than I expected him to show.” Candice struggled to see how this was mercy.
 
“What did he do to him?” asked Candice.
 
“I don’t know,” Nel admitted, “but Ulquiorra has been vying for his attention for some time, and Ichigo always has a reason.”
 
Kurosaki yanked the sword free and Ulquiorra would have fallen if he didn’t catch him by the jacket. He tossed him to the ground, several arrancar skipping out of the way. She could see now there was something dark gushing from the void in his chest and the crack in his mask. His screams were cut short when the dark burst from his throat, coating him in the stuff. It reminded her of watching a human turn into a hollow, it made her feel ill, and she didn’t think the arrancar around her would disagree.
 
She looked away, her eyes settling on Kurosaki instead. He spun the katana in his hand as he paced over to the writhing arrancar, then drove it into the ground beside him. He took a step back and drawled, “Does anyone else have any questions?”
 
From what Candice could gather, Kurosaki didn’t look altogether too pleased about what he’d done, he looked downright nauseated. Every arrancar present carefully ignored Ulquiorra, all except Grimmjow. He was glaring down at the Espada in what looked like pity...but that didn’t seem right.
 
Yylfordt bravely ventured, “Did ya kill ‘im?”
 
“No,” said Kurosaki.
 
Grimmjow growled, “He gave the sorry bastard exactly what he wanted.”
 
Kurosaki silenced Grimmjow with a look, but he raised his voice to address everyone present. “It stays between me and Ulquiorra.” He repeated, “Any more questions?”
 
A taller, stoic looking Espada asked, “What of Soul Society? If the Soul King is dead…”
 
“The same rules apply,” said Kurosaki. “We stay on our side of the fence, they stay on theirs. If they don’t, we make them. That goes for the living world. The second you set foot there, you become the Quincy’s problem. I might command them, but make no mistake, if you find yourself in their sights, you

do not

have my protection. Living world is their hunting ground.”
 
That surprised Candice, she thought for sure they were being punished, herded together just so they would be out of the way, so they would die in isolation. It sounded a lot like he intended for them to continue as they were. That didn’t feel entirely accurate… things had changed.
 
Candice felt a flicker of shame for what she’d done to hollows in the past. There was putting a hollow down, and then there was torture and toying with them until they were dead. Despite how much she

hated

hollows, she was starting to think they didn’t deserve all the things she’d done to them. She’d seen a fox hunt once...she wasn’t hunting foxes.
 
A few arrancar glanced her way and she folded her arms defensively. A female arrancar she recognized glared at her and asked, “What about

her

?” This was the arrancar that knew one of their captives, what was her name...Loly. Yes, she remembered Loly.
 
Kurosaki’s eyes locked on Candice, and while she expected to see hatred or disgust, she saw only understanding. She hated it. He mused over her name. “Candice...

Catnipp

.” There was a twist to the way he said it, like

he knew

.
 
He spoke in German, cutting his arrancar out of the loop.

“There’s nothing I could do to you that you haven’t already done to yourself. You aren’t my enemy, you’re my responsibility.”

She flushed, trying to convince herself he couldn’t know, but he looked straight into her like Adaliz had, and it tightened her heart in her chest to see the differences there. Adaliz judged her, made her earn her worth, but Kurosaki was different. The look in his eyes was unmistakable; I

see

you, you can’t hide from me. He didn’t want to change her or judge her, he was leaving her be.
 
Kurosaki’s eyes left her and she finally felt like she could breathe. He addressed all of them this time. “She’s still off limits. Like it or not, Quincy exist, they’re going to continue to exist, and there’s about to be a whole lot more of them. We’re all going to have to learn to share.”
 
Loly hissed, “You know what she did!”
 
His tone was harsh. “I’m not asking for forgiveness, I’m asking for tolerance. You don’t have to

like

each other, but I sure as shit don’t want you killing each other.”
 
She gestured broadly towards Ulquiorra and sneered, “You get

your

vengeance but we can’t have

ours

? Hypocrite!”
 
Candice fully expected Kurosaki to harm her after what he’d done to Ulquiorra, but he seemed unfazed by her words, he didn’t even look shocked to hear them. Grimmjow, on the other hand, took a step forward, snarling, “You little cunt!”
 
Kurosaki got a grip on his bicep, stopping Grimmjow in his tracks. He tried to jerk his arm free, but that wasn’t going to happen, Kurosaki’s grip was like steel.
 
Looking from Ulquiorra, to Loly, Kurosaki said, “This isn’t vengeance.”
 
“What else could it be?!” she shouted.
 
From the way they were speaking to each other, Candice got the feeling this was frequent, especially given the reaction of the arrancar around her; They took what she said with a grain of salt, and they all looked to Kurosaki for his answer.
 
He said, “I try not to drag your personal demons into the light but some of you make it really fucking difficult. For reasons I don’t expect, or want you to understand, this isn’t to punish Ulquiorra, it’s to help him.”
 
Candice’s eyes drifted back to the arrancar. He was still rigid with pain, every muscle in his body taut as a bowstring. If that was what “help” looked like, she didn’t want to see “punishment”.
 
Loly wasn’t sold. “Bullshit! He attacked your blood relative, didn’t he?”
 
Grimmjow glared at Kurosaki, and this time when he jerked his arm, Kurosaki let him go. He bared his teeth at Loly, looking for all the world like he wanted to tear her throat out, but he stayed put, held back by an invisible leash. “If Kurosaki wanted vengeance, he’d be king of nothing but corpses. Think that anger you’re feeling would just fuckin’

go away

if no one but you could even remember it happened?”
 
Loly grit her teeth, hunching forward in a desire to fight, held back by the simple fact she was weaker. Grimmjow snorted. “Yeah, I thought not. In another life you beat the ever loving shit out of his girl, I skewered his friend, don’t get me started on Szayel. He ain’t in it for vengeance. If he says they live,

they live,

an’ if you’ve got a problem with it, take it up with

me

.”
 
Loly stared him down, and when it became clear Grimmjow wasn’t going to back down, she spat a swear and spun on her heel, leaving. Grimmjow only made it one step before he was stopped by some unspoken sign from Kurosaki. When Grimmjow didn’t take his eyes off of her, Kurosaki warned, “Let her go.”
 
At first, Candice at thought it was her imagination, but she saw now that Kurosaki was watching Grimmjow with the same vigilance she’d seen from Grimmjow back in that church. He was looking for something, and he must have found it, because he reached out, casually laying a hand on the back of Grimmjow’s neck. The Espada stiffened, hands clenched at his sides in rage, but didn’t try to shrug him off. He glared at Loly’s back, then looked away, some of his tension uncoiling.
 
She hadn’t cared to know much about hollows, but she wasn’t blind to assertion of dominance. Kurosaki left his hand there, despite how uncomfortable it made the Espada, and that was probably the point. Kurosaki said, “Believe me or don’t, my orders still stand. Disregard them at your own risk.”
 
He let go of Grimmjow, taking a smooth step forward. “This desert and every god forsaken soul in it is

mine.”

He raised his hand, clenching it into a fist. Darkness surged around him, around them all. It parted around Candice, to her relief, but it passed directly through every hollow present as if they weren’t there. Their reactions were all the same; fear, discomfort, awe, but they didn’t run.
 
It fell away like a crashing wave, and Kurosaki said bluntly. “Try not to forget.” With little to no warning, he, Grimmjow and Ulquiorra disappeared in a swath of black power.
 
Nel let out a heavy breath along with most other arrancar in the room. For those that didn’t, it was still tangled in their throat.

That

was the man she had expected, the one she pretended didn’t scare her.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Grimmjow was pacing, muscles tight with rage. It was strange to be the one looking in. Seeing that blatant aggression made Ichigo wonder if it was a mistake to drop him in a crowd of arrancar. He did better than he expected, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t critiquing his own choices. He wasn’t entirely sure what la sangre had done to him yet, but all this did was solidify his choice not to bring him to Seireitei.
 
His eyes flicked over Starrk, debating waking him up, then came to rest on Ulquiorra. He hadn’t intended to draw him into la sangre at first, but the Espada was pushing so hard to get a rise out of him. Ulquiorra couldn’t kill him, so the next best choice was his own death. The Espada

thought

he wanted to die, but rather than grant him a few seconds of solace, the fear of creeping death would have to be enough.
 
Ulquiorra’s crisis worked out in Ichigo’s favor in the end, but it was far from vengeance, he was letting Ulquiorra get just a bit too close to his soul for comfort. This wasn’t the same as what Alteza had done to Grimmjow, but it was a close second. La sangre would chew away at his soul just the same. If he wanted to feel his mortality, it was actually an easy request to fulfill.
 
He crouched next to Starrk, reaching for his mask. He seemed to be doing fine, so he saw no reason to wake him yet, he still had Grimmjow to deal with. Without looking up, he said, “Relax, Grimmjow, ignore it. I know you can.”
 
He snapped, “And if I don’t want to?” Ichigo looked up, eyes tracking him as he crossed from Starrk to Ulquiorra and back. “You’re angry. You

should

be, you have every right to be.” Grimmjow stopped to face him, demanding, “Why don’t you

do

something about it?”
 
Ichigo deflected the question, well aware Grimmjow could feel the fury he had boxed up inside him. “La sangre is making your instincts louder,

try

to ignore it.”
 
“Answer me!”
 
Ichigo’s expression fell into a frown, and after sharing a look with his bored inner hollow, he stood. “Because I can’t afford to, do you really need to ask?” Grimmjow was seething, and not all of that anger was second hand. He wanted to feel it, and Ichigo had a good idea as to why that would be. Anger was easy.
 
Ichigo stepped over Starrk, and Grimmjow took a small step back, caught himself, and stayed still. His fraccion was deep enough in his instincts to be afraid, but not so much that he would cave to that fear. Always so stubborn. “Killing everyone that pissed me off would feel good in the moment, but where does that leave me?” He stopped within arm’s reach, and still Grimmjow hadn’t moved. “Alone.”
 
“But you already know that. I’m sorry you have to live with my frustrations, but they are

mine

.” He took another step forward, and Grimmjow tensed, ready for a fight. “Stop dwelling on

my

feelings and face your own.”
 
Grimmjow snapped into motion, closing the distance as he drew the sword. Ichigo caught his sword on the back of his wrist, looking to the blade. They both knew his attacks were useless, but it was still cathartic to try to cut  someone. He hadn’t grabbed the blade on purpose, and so Grimmjow tried again, faster, but still too slow.
 
Ichigo stepped into sonido, appearing just behind him. “You’re scared.” Grimmjow whirled, pure power sluicing off the blade. Ichigo was already gone, luring him away from Ulquiorra and Starrk. He reappeared at the far end of the room, slowly drawing the khyber blade. This side of the room was nearly obliterated thanks to Zangetsu, it made for something more interesting than a box to fight in.
 
Grimmjow crossed the room without a word, reiatsu flaring around his fist in a bala. Ichigo caught his punch in his palm, raising his sword to block a swipe for his ribs. Grimmjow’s reiatsu skittered over his hierro, slicing deep trenches in the stone behind him.
 
Ichigo stared back into fiery blue eyes, accepting every ounce of blame he found there. Ichigo leveled a fact at his Espada. “And you’re angry.” His claws tightened over Grimmjow’s fist, digging into the tendons on the back of his hand. “Can’t feel that, can you?”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened, looking caught. He ground his teeth together, pulling his fist free at the cost of his own hand. Blood splattered the ground and he swiped again, his blood mixing with the bala and doubling the power. Ichigo blocked with Zangetsu, raising his sword before him to cut through the wave of reiatsu with his own. Grimmjow shouted, “I won’t die like this!”
 
Those words scraped his heart, but he didn’t let them cut. He was responsible for this, Grimmjow was his arrancar, a wild thing he’d just gifted a slow, pathetic death.
 
Grimmjow swung wildly, but with plenty of skill to be deadly to anyone that wasn’t a hybrid monster. Ichigo carefully blocked and dodged his attacks, letting Grimmjow have the satisfaction of steel ringing against steel. He didn’t hold back too much, that would just be insulting. He caught Grimmjow by the jacket, throwing him bodily through and into a cluster of rubble.
 
The air was knocked clean out of his fraccion’s lungs, his knees hitting the ground hard when he slid from the stone. Before he could recover and find his legs, Ichigo was there, both swords drawn. He crossed the blades, sinking them into the stone in a deadly ‘X’ across Grimmjow’s throat. He leaned in, and Grimmjow was forced flat against the stone, the blades close enough to flesh to draw blood when he swallowed. Ichigo remarked, “Almost nostalgic, isn’t it?” The situation was familiar, but only in action, not in meaning.
 
Accusation smoldered in Grimmjow’s eyes, unwilling to voice them for fear of all the weaknesses it would lay bare. Ichigo said, “Your life has always been in my hands. Your pride and your loyalty means too much to me, I won’t let you die like that. If I fail, I’ll kill you myself. I won’t put you down,

you’re not a dog

. You’ll die with a sword in your hand and a smile on your face.”
 
Grimmjow stared as Ichigo leaned back, drawing his swords away along with that threat. Ichigo said, “Now hit me, swing at me, swear at me, do whatever you need to do to work it out. Gotta get used to your limits when you can’t feel pain anyways.”
 
Grimmjow stood, shaking out his mangled hand. He could still clench it into a loose fist, but his hand didn’t want to obey. He spun his sword in his uninjured hand, tilting his head to the side in thought. “Why do you have to fuckin’ speak sense. I want to beat your fucking face in.” He looked back at him, his eyes narrowed in anger, but it was far less severe. “You’re not supposed to agree with me, retard.”
 
Ichigo spread his arms apart, taking a few steps back. “I never do what’s best for me, you shouldn’t be surprised. I’ll even give you a free hit.”
 
“Asshole,” Grimmjow hissed. He swung wildly, and this time his sword connected with Ichigo’s chest, the blade stopping short on his armor.
 
Ichigo’s arms lowered a touch, a small smirk turning up his lips. “Is that it?”
 
Grimmjow swung again, and this time Ichigo dodged, crouching on a heavy block of rubble a few feet away. “Try a little harder.”
 
He did try, and no matter how many times he swung, he didn’t get any closer to doing damage or hitting him, and after over an hour of that, Grimmjow started to tire out. He was gasping for air, and Ichigo wasn’t even winded. It wasn’t a real fight, Grimmjow hadn’t even released his sword, and Ichigo still had Zangetsu manifest to watch Ulquiorra and Starrk.
 
Ichigo asked, “Feel better?”
 
Grimmjow was breathing too hard to respond, but he shot Ichigo a venom filled glare. There was no heart in it, Ichigo could see straight through him. Crossing over to his fraccion, Ichigo sheathed his swords, then held his hand out towards him. Grimmjow was leaning on his knees, looking at the offered hand in confusion. “What d’yu want?”
 
“Your hand.”
 
“I’m fine,” grit Grimmjow. He straightened, but the tremor in his hand was noticeable, even when he tried to hide it.
 
Ichigo repeated himself with more steel. “Your hand. You’re useless if you cripple yourself over your pride.”
 
The Espada reluctantly held out his hand, pointedly looking anywhere else while Ichigo did his best to heal the worst of it. Grimmjow asked, “If I can’t feel pain, how’s this going to go?”
 
Dying...he didn’t want that to happen, but the reality was still there. He nothing but a drowning man dragging down his would be rescuer. He ran his thumb over healed tendons, Grimmjow’s fingers twitching in his hand. His own body could handle the rest, he let him go and answered, “I don’t know, but I can guess. You saw what happened when I pushed myself too hard, I got slow, my body wouldn’t listen.”
 
Grimmjow sheathed his sword, brows scrunched in thought. He idly flexed his hand, realized he couldn’t feel it, and looked down at his hand, testing his mobility. He seemed satisfied, his eyes roaming back towards Starrk and Ulquiorra. They were far away, only Zangetsu’s silhouette was noticeable from where they stood.
 
Grimmjow asked, “Did you mean what you said?”
 
Ichigo chided, “Don’t ask stupid questions.” His voice fell, lost in a hiss. “When you die, you’ll fall to

my

sword. Your life is mine.”
 
“I don’t belong to you!” snapped Grimmjow.
 
Ichigo found his hand clenched tight over Grimmjow’s mouth. He blinked, startled by his own movement, but it was no less wanted. Grimmjow reached up to pry off his hand but Ichigo didn’t budge. He spoke softly. “Deny it if you want,

you’re mine

. If you didn’t want to be, you would have left months ago.”
 
Lifting his hand from his mouth, Ichigo saw his fingers left marks on his skin. He hadn’t thought he’d used that much force. Despite that, the look in Grimmjow’s eyes was the same. He would stay, he

wanted

to stay.
 
Dropping his eyes, Grimmjow

didn’t

deny it. He sank into a crouch, catching his breath, and for once tried deflecting attention away from himself. He growled quietly. “Fuck off, Kurosaki.”
 
He walked past him, lifting his hand to study his claws. Red, always red. He paused and ordered, “Watch Ulquiorra.”
 
“Where are you going?”
 
Ichigo shot Grimmjow a look that was enough for the arrancar to second guess any would-be argument. “Seireitei.” Without his fraccion, that much was obvious.
 
“You wore me out so I wouldn’t argue.” Grimmjow ground his teeth in annoyance, but he watched Kurosaki warily, as if that comment might incite violence.
 
“That was just a perk,” Ichigo admitted. He turned away from him, easing Grimmjow’s concerns the best he could. “Don’t leave his side unless he wakes, I’ll be back soon.”

--- xxx ---
 
Ichigo is fucked up. So what happened was I combined my idea for a sequel into this one because why not, it seemed to fit, and now this fic is loooong. Did anyone notice or care that Zommari basically doesn’t exist? He’s boorrrring.
 
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Standing in the outskirts of the Rukongai, Ichigo left Starrk with the same cloak Grimmjow had “borrowed” from Urahara. His reiatsu was still fluctuating, but even if it wasn’t, he’d rather Starrk be invisible than focusing on dampening his presence.
 
His orders were simple; watch, observe, and if they did manage to seal him, report back. Starrk seemed more than okay with this, he was happy to be given something to do at all.
 
Before he left, Starrk asked, “Why not Grimmjow?”
 
It seemed everyone had noticed his dependency on the arrancar, which probably wasn’t a good thing. Ichigo said, “You’re stronger, level-headed, and Grimmjow is still...adjusting.” That seemed to be the best word for it. He knew he’d taken a good deal of time to work out his frustrations over Alteza, he could only imagine how Grimmjow would handle it. In between waking him up and now, he was up to speed, even if he’d given the arrancar the shortened version.
 
Starrk nodded, laid back about the whole affair. He was surprisingly okay with being thrown into a kido induced sleep, although Ichigo didn’t think he would have been nearly as okay with it if someone else had tried it. Then again, Ichigo had made it exceedingly clear he went out of his way to protect his own, he wouldn’t let something happen on his watch, not even to Szayel.
 
Leaving Starrk to work out how he wanted to approach this, Ichigo stepped into sonido, crossing miles with a single step. In the seconds it took him to get there, he manifested his hollow, deciding he’d rather have him watching his back then adding to his power. He passed right through Seireitei’s barrier, feeling nothing more than gossamer thin resistance. It wanted to repel him, but he had within him Alteza and die Konigin, the barrier didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.
 
He stepped lightly on the sand somewhere in the middle of Seireitei, choosing someplace at random, someplace populated enough that they would take notice.
 
For a moment, no one did. He had no reiatsu to sense, and he was quiet. He hadn’t always been quiet, but after so long spent in the silence of night, he’d changed to reflect it. What felt quiet in the clamor of school, of civilization, was suddenly loud, and he’d had all the reason in the world to keep from drawing attention to himself.
 
He could be patient when he needed to be, but not even a minute passed before the first shinigami noticed him. They stopped, stared, then their eyes widened in fear and they raised a shout of alarm, one that rippled across Seireitei.
 
He waited, passively watching the chaos unfold around him. After a few moments, he stood alone, warning bells still echoing in the distance. His relative solitude didn’t last long, the captain's started to show, but not all of them were as fast as Byakuya, he had a feeling he would be waiting for awhile.
 
Given he had already taken strides to spring their traps, doubtless, they were ready for him to do it again. For some time they had been under the false impression they were dealing with an inexperienced child, albeit one with an ocean of reiryoku at his disposal. He didn’t think he would be able to count on their pride to underestimate him again.
 
He knew they would hit him with everything that they had, and Soul Society would be as prepared as he felt he was. He kept still, and he watched, his eyes roaming not for hidden captains or physical traps, but for any sort of Kido he might not be prepared for. It might have been a wasted effort, because given enough sekkiseki stone, he wouldn’t be able to see anything at all. Apparently, die Konigin’s sight was limited to everything the light touched, and Alteza just wasn’t suited for subtlety.  
 
The barrier sekkiseki made was easy to break, but getting around the stone itself was something of a challenge. He couldn’t see inside Shin'ōchikadaikangoku at all, it was a blank space in his vision, as was anything too close to the walls of Seireitei, or Senzaikyu. It was enough to make him wonder if this was something like the deserts of Hueco Mundo, something specific to the shinigami’s nameless god.
 
He was torn from his thoughts when Gin started getting a little too close. His eyes snapped to the taicho, and Gin froze, hands raised in surrender. “No need to panic.”
 
Gin took another step and Ichigo warned tightly. “That’s close enough.” The sand shifted around his feet, a gentle reminded that he might not have his sword drawn, but he was no less dangerous than if he did.
 
Grin stopped, reasoning away his proximity. “I don’t like to shout.”
 
“That’s too bad,” answered Ichigo, eyes still roaming. He wasn’t about to be caught off guard because of this snake in the grass.
 
Gin spoke in a casual, light voice. “See, somethin ya said got me thinkin’.”
 
He didn’t continue, so Ichigo sighed and played along. “About what?”
 
“‘Bout having Aizen in yer head.” Ichigo’s eyes snapped back to Gin, and the man smiled, tapping a finger against his temple. “Don’t deny it.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. “I dealt with it.”
 
“Did ya?” Gin smiled. “Ain’t anyone that spent more time with Aizen than I did. The

real

Aizen.” Ichigo didn’t like where this was headed. Gin wanted his attention, he had it. “If you look past the crazy-”
 
“

I’m not crazy

,” Ichigo snapped.
 
“Yeah, yeah.” Gin blew him off, but he was a touch wary, choosing his words more carefully. “It’s little things, in the way you talk, in the way you stand.”

“Ignore him, King.”

Easier said than done. The only person alive that would know was telling him to his face his fears were justified. He snarled, “I’m not like him.”
 
“You have his confidence, his distrust. I can see him in the way you hold your sword, the way you assess a situation.”
 
The sand around him writhed the deeper Gin dug. He growled, “Shut

up

.”
 
“See...I think ya spent a lot of time around Aizen. I think you weren’t just a pet project, I think you were his protégé.”
 
Ichigo moved, his hand suddenly tight around Gin’s throat. The shinigami seemed to expect that, his smile widening. He struggled to speak under his tightening grip, his voice raspy. “Just as angry, but more willing to get yer hands dirty. I bet he actually liked you.”
 
“Shut up!” Ichigo cut off his air and his voice, he was sick and tired of being trapped in Aizen’s shadow.

“King!”

His warning wasn’t fast enough. He felt a twist in his soul, his eyes snapping down to where Gin’s hand hovered just over the void in his chest.
 
Gin’s apologetic voice was the last thing he heard before he found himself thrown into a different dimension. “Sorry, kid.”
 
Zangetsu was painfully wrenched back into his soul, his hollow howling his rage in his inner world. He fell, surrounded by darkness. That was painfully disorienting. He caught himself on a platform of reishi, instinctively casting his senses out. The space wasn’t huge, and it existed between the worlds like the dangai and the valley of screams. It was someplace unknown.
 
He lifted his hand to the void in his chest, that rending feeling of disquiet still lingering in his soul. He growled, “Did he do what I think he did? The fuck is that thing called?”

“Caja Negación.”

Ossan supplied.
 
“FUCK!” His voice fell flat in the dark with nothing to echo off of, leaving him feeling unsatisfied.

“Calm, Ichigo. It was your anger that put you here to begin with.”

He knew that,

but it didn’t do anything to cool his rage.

Stupid

. Gin tore into an old wound on purpose, getting him close, distracting him. He felt stupid for falling for it, and angry at how easily he’d been drawn in.
 
He reached out for the rip between the worlds and found it out of reach. He flared his reiatsu for the first time in months, pushing against the walls of his own special pocket dimension. He couldn’t break free, not immediately, which was likely the whole reason he’d been sent here. It wasn’t a permanent solution, so why bother? What was their plan?

“Be cautious, Ichigo.”

The warning wasn’t lost on him, especially when he was fucking angry that he’d been manipulated. When he was angry he made mistakes, he knew that.
 
He pushed against the walls of his prison with a snarl, raising his reiatsu. It shuddered under the force, but only inched back under the pressure.
 
He was strapped for time, the longer he was stuck here, the more time they would have to spring their trap. Depending on where the fuck he’d been sent, time might may be off kilter in his little box, just like the dangai. An hour could be much more or less time in Soul Society, and even without that knowledge, keeping track of time with no light and nothing but his anger and the voices in his head wasn’t necessarily

exact

.
 
He drew both swords, reiatsu racing along the edge. He loosed a getsuga, his power rebounding off his prison and surging around him in an undertow of power. For a brief moment, the space was bathed in red light, but soon enough he was thrown back into darkness. Red was burned into his irises, but he blinked it back, charging up another.

“They know you will break free, your advantage has already been lost. Do not waste your energy so freely

.”
 
Ichigo shouted into the dark. “They can’t keep me here!”
 
“

Of course not. Calm down, Ichigo.”

Where normally Ossan was collected, there was an authoritative bite to his tone, and that he could hear the spirit at all was testament to how badly he wished to be heard. He should listen,

he should.

“Face what you truly feel, did you not tell your fraccion much the same?”

His hands tightened on the hilt of his swords. Ossan was right, he was always right. He wasn’t angry, he was ashamed. Ashamed Gin was right, that he let the shinigami get under his skin so easily.
 
His shoulders fell, glaring down at swords he couldn’t see with his eyes, but as the beacon of power he had come to rely on. Slowly, he let his attack dissipate, forcing his reiatsu to strain the cage that held him with a near normal output of power. He spoke aloud, his tone dry. “Zangetsu, you’re wasting your time.”

“You saw what he did! I’ll string his guts like fucking christmas lights.”

Ichigo snapped, “Destroying my inner world doesn’t solve anything, and listening to you scream when I can’t do anything about it isn’t helping!” To his credit, Zangetsu stopped, waiting to see if what he had to say was worth his time. “They planned to send me here, they’ve seen how angry I can get, Gin probably didn’t expect to live through that.”

“Why the fuck would he do it, then?”

Struggling to think past the words Gin had said, Ichigo tried to remember what was happening around him at the time. He’d been distracted, but expecting an attack outside of Gin, he hadn’t been unaware of what was happening.
 
He spoke his thoughts aloud. “The other captains didn’t move, they let him get close, they were planning on it. They didn’t move when I got my hand around his throat either, they didn’t even seem alarmed.”

“We never did discover what Soul Society intended to do with Gin.”

Ossan reminded.

“That shit he pulled never happened, why would he owe them?”

“I don’t know, we don’t even know if that’s what happened, but he’s right, he and I were the only ones that ever knew Aizen. The real Aizen. If they don’t have the brute strength to stop me, they would have little recourse than to attack my heart.” Something he’d shown far too much emotion over, even hollowfied. They knew how to hit him where it hurt, and Gin could do that. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter why he did it, he did.”
 
He’d been so angry, he’d almost forgotten. “Gin apologized...”

“So fucking what?”

“Why would he do that?” His spirits had no answer and he was no closer to getting to one on his own. It could have been about tricking him, but it could have also been sympathy for the deceived and the manipulated.
 
He couldn’t shake the fact that Gin was right. Fighting Aizen, he’d gotten better, he’d

learned

, whether he wanted to or not. He picked up things here and there, and near the end, Aizen hounded his steps, he barely let him sleep, he was his own personalized nightmare. So much time spent around the man, he shouldn’t be surprised if bits of him leaked through. That he resembled Aizen more than his own father twisted his guts into knots, but hating it made it no less true.
 
He let out a steadying breath, his reiatsu still vibrating with fury, but it was far more controlled than before. He focused on getting out, on preparing himself for defense rather than the offense he wanted so desperately to indulge.

“Nothing they create will be strong enough to hold us.”

“Don’t be arrogant. Sekkiseki is still strong enough to negate our reiatsu, and die Konigin and Alteza can’t affect it either.” That was noteworthy, but he wasn’t sure what to do with that information other than as a reminder to avoid sekkiseki whenever possible.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Ukitake
 
The moment the alarm was raised, he jumped into action, knowing without a doubt their fiery ryoka was to blame. From what he’d seen of Kurosaki’s decaying patience and short temper, he had a feeling Soul Society’s plan would be successful. With that being the case, he had a short window to act.
 
On the off chance Kurosaki managed to elude their trap, then their preparations wouldn’t be necessary, but if he didn’t, then it might be one of the few and fastest ways to free him.
 
“You make a poor thief, Ukitake.”
 
He spun to face an empty hallway, then looked up at the woman lazily sprawled over a rafter. “Yoruichi-san?” She idly kicked her foot, her hands laced over her stomach like she’d been napping. She rolled her head to the side to watch him with feline indifference. “I see Kyoraku came to the same conclusion we did.”
 
That statement caused him to turn back, eying the seal across the door. They appeared to be intact, but if he looked closely, he could see they were fresh. “You stole it.”
 
“Well...is it stealing if it was entrusted to the Shihōin clan to begin with?”
 
“How did you know?” She arched a brow at him, rolling from the beam to land in a graceful crouch. She straightened, and drawled, “

Please

. As boring as it is, as the former head of the Onmitsukidō, I know the laws inside and out, and a case like Kurosaki’s is pretty cut and dry. Execution, or imprisonment, and no one can kill him. Kisuke figured someone might make a move against Soul Society, that kid has a way of getting you to do what he wants by not asking for anything at all. Irritating, isn’t it?”
 
He gave her a sheepish smile, but anxiety still raced through his veins. “I wouldn’t call it irritating. Maybe inconvenient.” It would be easy to sit back and let events unfold as they would, but his conscience wouldn’t stand for it. He wasn’t sure if it was her intention to derail his thoughts, but it was working. He steered her back to the topic at hand. “If you’ve taken the Hōgu…do you intend to use it?”
 
Her eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “That isn’t my part to play.”
 
That was an interesting response, a calculated one. This wasn’t normally a game he played, but it seemed to him that she and Kisuke intended for those within Seiretei to commit high treason. They appeared to desire the same outcome, but the path to get there was being manipulated. That didn’t sit well with him, but that didn’t change his task at hand. Damn that man. He asked, ”Since you’ve acquired it, might I ask where it is?”
 
She raised her hand with the curl of her fingers in a lazy motion to beckon. “Come on, try to keep up.” She blurred into shunpo with little to no warning, and he struck as fast a pace as he could manage and he still lagged behind. She certainly lived up to her name, and he was no pushover when it came to speed.
 
He brief;y considered the wisdom of following a dangerous, unpredictable detractor. Knowing she was working alongside Kisuke, he had no doubt he was just a cog in his plans. Ukitake had never known Kisuke personally, but he’d never known him to be an idle man.
 
She took to the rooftops, carefully avoiding the area Kurosaki was reported to have been seen. Without needing the distraction of Kurosaki’s arrival to steal something precious, he’d come into some time. If Yoruichi had time to steal, reseal the shrine, and then hide the Hōgu, who knew when Kisuke had worked this out. For all he knew, it could have been days or even weeks.
 
The shinigami on the ground never even noticed them pass, too wrapped under in their own orders and division to consider looking up, especially when the very ground was on the brink of betraying their steps. The sand shifted like the churning surf after a wave, making it difficult to keep their footing.
 
When Yoruichi led them down to the sand-drowned path below, he got to experience it firsthand. He staggered, then caught himself, wondering how Yoruichi managed with so much ease. It felt like he was standing on something living,

breathing

, and the comparison made him feel a bit ill.
 
She brought down a kido barrier and led him into a small, empty room. The light cut through the dust and gloom, illuminating a wrapped bundle in the middle of the floor. She lifted it and carried it back to him, holding it out. He took it, and she tightened her grip on it, her voice tight. “Why?”
 
His brows furrowed. “Why are

you

involved?”
 
“That’s personal. You don’t know Kurosaki at all, so why involve yourself?” Her eyes narrowed, skeptical, and Ukitake was reminded of how very alone they were in that room.
 
He said, “There isn’t one reason.” He looked down at the sand still gently shifting beneath their feet. “But that’s a big one. Kurosaki is a player in a larger game, attempting to remove him from it is only a temporary solution. Kurosaki was right, he’s all we have, ignoring him won’t change that.”
 
She let go, accepting that answer. If he had given her a lie, he wondered if she would have killed him. Maybe he was being dramatic.
 
She gave him a mock salute and strolled outside. “Good luck. I’ll be watching you.” Ukitake didn’t think that was reassuring at all. There was the nearby sound of barked orders and she was gone.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
His prison didn’t fracture over time, when it broke, it shattered, and he found himself exactly where he’d been before he’d been forced into that separate dimension. His feet hit the sand, reality rippling around him, and several things happened at once.
 
Gravity seemed to press down on him from above, threatening to force him to his knees. Lances of glowing gold Kido impaled the sand around him from every direction, trapping him in a forest of spears clustered close enough to restrict his movement, but none had done more than graze his hierro.
 
He clenched his hand into a fist, la sangre spilling around him in a cyclone of defense. He made a cutting motion with his arm, shattering the spears of Kido within the relative safety of his bubble, but they didn’t dissolve, they lingered as shards hovering in the air. The thousands of shards shivered, oriented themselves and he had less than a second to realize his mistake.
 
The Kido struck his hierro like hail and instead of a thousand piercing blades, they clung to him like molten metal. They didn’t behave like a weapon, the Kido wasn’t an attack, but bakudo meant to trap his reiatsu. “Shit.” He felt it burn, his high speed regeneration struggling to keep up with his own reiatsu output.
 
Instinctively he reigned in his reiatsu, clamping down on it self defense. Attention torn, his grip on la sangre and the sand was broken, enough that someone found an opening, and they took it.
 
The bakudo hit him in the back, and his reiatsu was too low to break it. Black seals constricted around him, forcing his arms and legs together. He fell to his knees, trying to keep the panic from clawing it way up his throat. He was hit with more bakudo, too preoccupied with the first two to even wonder what it was. Zangetsu screeched for violence, but with his precarious control over his reiatsu, there was no way in hell he was going to be able to manifest his hollow.
 
He couldn’t see shit, but that was fine, he didn’t need his eyes to ‘see’ his surroundings. Stop panicking,

stop

. He knew this would happen. He pressed through the pain of his own reiatsu, struggling to steady his breathing, and focused.
 
He called on la sangre, tightening his defense with a tight sphere of darkness. It was far from steady, his connection to it was formed on instinct alone, and with bakudo straining his control, it reacted accordingly. La sangre was nothing but a chaotic storm around him, but it was probably intimidating enough to serve its purpose. They could seal him, but they sure as shit weren’t going to get close to him.
 
He sensed someone with massive reiryoku approach from his left. His head snapped towards them on instinct, no matter if the bakudo blocked his sight. He would recognize that reiatsu anywhere.

Yamamoto

.
 
His tight defense didn’t seem to worry Yamamoto, the soutaichou kept getting closer. In a surge of rage, the sand reacted, lashing out against the shinigami in a wave of spikes. His ‘vision’ was blinded by sudden light, assuming he’d drawn his sword to defend himself. The light still threatened to overload his senses, so he turned his head away. Yamamoto stopped advancing, and at the moment that was all he could ask for.
 
Perhaps if Aizen had ever attempted to fight him with anything other than Hado, he would have the practice he’d needed to know how to counter this. He could try to blame Aizen for that, but he couldn’t blame anyone other than himself. His only consolation was the fact that the seal was temporary.
 
He could already feel the press of Alteza in his mind, the whispers dragging over his brain like blades. Die Konigin was no better, those howls joining Alteza in their fervor.
 
He knew without a doubt they couldn’t hold him forever, but he couldn’t afford to be here wasting time. He could almost hear this hiss of the sand slipping through the hourglass. Grimmjow’s time was still slipping away, and every second trapped here was a second of his life lost, circling the drain.
 
That did more than make him angry, it made him desperate. His control over Alteza was loose, wound tightly around his instincts, and it reacted in kind.
 
The sand rushed from the nooks and crannies it had invaded directly towards him, reacting to his need in crude understanding. It rushed around him in a hurricane, tight enough that if his arms were unbound, he could reach out and touch it. It surged, then stiffened into stone, a massive sphere of spikes. Defense and offense, all in seconds. He had no doubt he’d killed someone with an action so massive and so abrupt, but at the moment, he didn’t care.
 
Was he safe? Could they get him? Gods it burned, the sharp ache of his pain wouldn’t fade, he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Just knowing how long this could persist sparked his panic, but Zangetsu’s voice cut through it like steel.

“Jinzen, King.”

He focused and the seconds crawled by. Keep his reiatsu down, breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t

move-NO-there was no blade to split his skin, there was no Szayel-breathe-breathe-breathe-

He opened his eyes with a gasp, suddenly in his inner world.
 
It was chaos. His world howled, a sandstorm buffeting a sunken city. Sharp grains of obsidian raked over his skin and he turned his back to it, taking in a red soaked landscape. Even in his mind, he could feel the ghostly press of pain, and he saw no one.
 
More panic, and then Zangetsu was before him, his hollow’s eyes ablaze in rage. Zangetsu fisted his hand in his kosode, yanking him away in a burst of sonido. He dropped him inside a building, the space empty except for growing piles of sand that had slipped through the cracks.
 
He’d never been inside any of the buildings before, they were dark and empty, with a maze of walls that didn’t seem to be based on any sort of logic. He sank to the ground, realizing he was still in a mild state of panic. His hands shook, his breath came too fast and shallow.
 
Zangetsu crouched before him, his hollow’s voice steely. “
Relax
.”
 
He was trying.

Trying

, but panic was a difficult seed to uproot. Zangetsu held his eyes, daring him to argue, and he stayed, he watched every second of his panic, just like he always did. “You can’t kill them for this.”

“Watch me,”

he snarled.
 
Ichigo didn’t say anything, but the look on his face must have pissed him off, because Zangetsu suddenly had his hands around his throat, pinning him to the floor. His hollow could make good on his threat, he could do everything he threatened to do and more, but Ichigo knew he wouldn’t. Again and again they found themselves here, disagreeing so resolutely on what was important. Zangetsu’s grip tightened, always so angry, so frustrated, that despite his best efforts, Ichigo kept pushing his luck.

“It never stops! How much more are you going to take before you

make

them stop!”

His hollow’s grip tightened, then eased, his hands still wrapped loosely around his neck. Ichigo realized his hollow’s hands were shaking too, but not from fear. Ichigo’s voice was resolute, in spite of his panic. “All of it. I scare them.” He let out a strained laugh, his voice bordering on disgust. “

Look at us

. A monster...psh, if they knew.”
 
One step forward, three steps back. Their monster was an illusion. He was scared, he was sick with it. Violence might sing to him, but it wasn’t what drove him, it never was. “They got us.”
 
Zangetsu’s grip tightened, the tremble in his hands noticeable, then shoved away, staring down at him in deep disapproval. He left a hand on either side of his head, pinning him with a look of judgement that only his hollow could snare him with. “

Fuck them.

”
 
Ichigo tried not to sigh. “I’m well aware of your opinion.” There was nothing he could do but keep himself alive and wait for the Gods to do something. It was a good plan, one that wouldn’t have worked on someone more familiar with Kido, more resolute in their defense.
 
Zangetsu curled his lips back from his teeth and growled, pushing himself off to sit beside him. “

Your stupid friends will do something.”

He frowned at his hollow. “How can you know that?”
 
“

You’re a fucking idiot sometimes, King.”

Zangetsu narrowed his eyes and begrudgingly continued. “

Do you really think they won’t help you?”

Ichigo stared at him, and Zangetsu’s expression twisted into an even more unpleasant scowl.

“When you’re asleep, unconscious, gone, you don’t see. I do. They’ll come for you.”

It looked like it physically hurt him to keep talking.

“Hope, King.”

--- xxx ---
 
Coyote Starrk
 
Kurosaki didn’t come back. He had no reiatsu to sense, but that the sand he’d brought into Seireitei still moved made Starrk believe he was alive. Hours had passed, and while quite a lot of shinigami seemed worked up about Kurosaki’s presence, he didn’t know what was going on, not unless he got closer. He’d been ordered not to, and he didn’t want to break that order.
 
He was about to give up when his instincts bristled in fear of something he couldn’t sense. He knew that feeling, he sensed it whenever Kurosaki was close, whenever la sangre was roused. That unsettling

noise

grew louder, and though those inhuman voices didn’t change in pitch, he felt a distinct anger within it.
 
There was a loud hiss of several tons of sand shifting, and spikes of it shot skyward, visible even above the wall. Starrk jumped into the air, climbing to a higher vantage point. As he ascended, it became clear what he was looking at.
 
A sizeable stone sphere stretched high over the roofs of Seireitei. The entire surface was littered with spikes, no rhyme or reason to the size or length. They didn’t stab straight out from the sphere, but twisted around upwards in a spiral, frozen in motion. Flickers of darkness were visible against white, the unmistakable mark of la sangre, yet nothing further happened. Starrk didn’t expect that was a good thing.
 
He watched and waited, cape tugging at his heels in the wind. The breeze shifted, and he caught the scent of blood. That didn’t bode well at all. He could sense someone of great power almost directly on top of that spiked fortress, but nothing came of it. Should he leave, or stay? Leave or stay…
 
Someone else decided for him. A shout of alarm went up, noticing him now that he wasn’t hidden in the trees. He might be confident he was strong, but he was only one arrancar. It was time to go.
 
Reluctantly, he opened a garganta, returning to Las Noches. He sought out Harribel, unsure what she could do, but she needed to know. Grimmjow was there, hovering in the knowledge he would return to her to report.
 
“I think Kurosaki was captured.”
 
“You

think

?!” accused Grimmjow. He looked fierce before, but now he looked absolutely feral. If he wanted to start a fight, Starrk wanted nothing to do with it.
 
“Enough,” said Harribel. She eyed Grimmjow and he looked away, conceding, for the moment.
 
Starrk continued, explaining what he knew in enough detail for Harribel to judge.
 
Folding her arms, she said, “There’s the chance he’s pinned down and not captured, but regardless, he doesn’t appear to be in a good position.” She spared a look for Grimmjow. “It would be wise to wait.”
 
“You want to leave him there?” growled Grimmjow.
 
“For now,” Harribel answered. “We can’t yet know how our actions might worsen the situation.”
 
Grimmjow growled under his breath and started to move, restless. “I can’t stay here.”
 
“You will stay here, Grimmjow.” She raised her voice enough to gain his attention, and the Espada’s hands tightened into fists, his posture shifting towards something far more aggressive.
 
Starrk interfered, by no means defending Harribel, but attacking her would be a massive waste of time. He took a step between them. “Grimmjow,

cease

.”
 
“You don’t feel it.” Harribel didn’t look surprised to hear this, she actually seemed prepared to hear more, which made Starrk wonder how long Grimmjow had been agitated.
 
Starrk asked, “Feel what?”
 
Grimmjow grit out. “That fucker is angry, or feels like it. It’s loud, won’t shut the

fuck up

.”
 
He started to turn in circles, and Harribel warned steeply. “

Grimmjow

.”
 
“I feel it,” Grimmjow insisted.
 
“Feel

what

?” Starrk repeated.
 
Grimmjow looked like he was loathe to tell the truth, and Starrk didn’t understand why until he spoke. “I feel Kurosaki. Panic...I feel a lot of panic, and rage.” If that was true, it was no wonder he was unwilling to share. Sharing Kurosaki’s fear wouldn’t be a comfortable thing to do.
 
Harribel said, “I can’t work with that, Grimmjow.”
 
Grimmjow lunged, but so did Starrk, catching his wrist and pulling it back between his shoulder blades to force him down. Grimmjow’s knees hit the ground with a grunt of pain, but he didn’t resist. That he’d caught him so easily was only a testament to how distracted the Espada was. “Relax, Grimmjow. We aren’t leaving him.”
 
Without letting Grimmjow rise, Starrk readjusted his grip, not about to let him up when he was still so volatile. Harribel said, “Without real information I-” She stopped, tilting her head, and it took Starrk a moment to realise she was listening to the communication device in her ear. No, upon closer inspection, there was nothing but a metal band on the ridge of her ear. An upgrade?
 
Her eyes snapped to Grimmjow’s. “Szayel has word on Kurosaki. Stay calm, and you may join us.”
 
Us? Starrk wasn’t expecting to be included, no matter how much he wanted to know what was going on.
 
Grimmjow growled shortly. “Fine.” Harribel gave Starrk a small nod, and he let the Espada go. Grimmjow straightened, avoiding eye contact with both of them. His pride was a little hurt, but he’d live, and he didn’t seem he would start a fight.
 
Grimmjow asked “How the fuck does Szayel know anything?”
 
That was a good question, and both of them looked to Harribel for the answer. “A shinigami told him.”
 
“Kisuke?” asked Grimmjow.
 
“No, a captain.” Harribel seemed just as surprised as they were.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Shin'ōchikadaikangoku: The Central Great Underground Prison

Hōgu: Treasured Tools
 
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow

Judging from the occasional skyward glances from Harribel and Starrk, the howling and whispering really had gotten louder. If not louder, different. It was distracting, but nothing compared to what he was feeling from Kurosaki. He was already angry, but feeling the shadow of pain and rage and panic was sickening. It made him want to act, but there was nothing to be done.
 
He stalked after them, hands in his pockets rather than someone’s throat. Starrk kept an eye on him, which pissed him off, no matter how justified it was. Kurosaki threw his anger in his face, he knew some of this was all him, but he’d let it slide.
 
Starrk asked, “What happened with Ulquiorra?”
 
“Woke up, fucked off.” Starrk looked expectant, but there was nothing more for him to say.
 
Szayel didn’t meet them at the door, he was leaned back against a dissection slab, a look of annoyance on his face for being forced to wait at all. On the screen before him was a white haired man chatting away with a dark skinned woman. She looked a little bored and the shinigami looked nervous, either uncomfortable in general or by what she said, but seeing as the last thing out of her mouth was rather crude, it could have been either.
 
Szayel noted their presence and sighed dramatically. “Finally.” He pushed away from the table and let them take over.
 
The white haired man sat up a little straighter. “Ah, I’m Ukitake, and this is Yoruichi-san.” His eyes lingered on Grimmjow, then snapped to Harribel. “I don’t believe we’ve met, but you must be Harribel?”
 
“I am. This is Starrk and Grimmjow.”
 
Ukitake’s eyes lingered on Grimmjow and the Espada snapped, “Got somethin’ to say to me?”
 
Ukitake held up held up his hands, the picture of innocence. “Apologies you simply...look different.” He couldn’t remember ever meeting him before, but then, he had spent a couple of hours captured, all of Seireitei could probably nail the exact shade of his eyes and hair.
 
The woman leaned over his shoulder and frowned. “What happened to your face?”
 
Grimmjow snarled, “Worry about your own face!”
 
“

Grimmjow

.” Harribel’s tone actually deviated for her usual nonchalance into exasperation. She muttered, “I don’t know how Kurosaki puts up with you.”
 
Ukitake spoke up. “Well, I didn’t make this call to start an argument, this is about Kurosaki.” Grimmjow felt his heart start to race, hoping this conversation went the way he hoped it would.
 
“I assumed as much,” said Harribel. “What does a taicho want with me? You showed no interest in speaking to me before.” There was an edge of spite in her voice, and Grimmjow couldn’t blame her for it, he hated being ignored too.
 
The shinigami’s expression grew guarded. “I’m acting of my own accord.”
 
“Kyoraku’s,” muttered Yoruichi.
 
Ukitake looked briefly irritated. “Kyoraku’s

and

mine.”
 
“Why should we trust anything you have to say?” asked Harribel.
 
For a moment he looked perplexed, then he sheepishly lifted a hand to his head, pushing his hair back from his face. “Ahhh, I don’t know, I hadn’t thought that far.”
 
Yoruichi rolled her eyes. “How the hell have you made it this long.” She asked Harribel. “How much do you know?”
 
Harribel gave Starrk the go ahead, and he explained, “I saw Kurosaki erect some sort of defense, but I didn’t try to get any closer, and I left shortly after.”
 
Grimmjow added, “I know he’s in pain.” That was news to Harribel, and the look she shot him wasn’t friendly, but he didn’t care. “He’s still panicking some, and he’s pissed off.”
 
Yoruichi didn’t ask how he knew that, she merely nodded and said, “With the type of kido they bound him with, I’m not surprised.”
 
Harribel asked, “How did they bind him?”
 
“Long story short, they’re using his own reiatsu against him. The only reason I bet it didn’t kill him is because of his regeneration. Kisuke is pretty sure the reason Kurosaki hasn’t just shattered it is because he’s got the control of a child, he’d crush Soul Society if he did that. That boy doesn’t know the meaning of the word restraint.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “What would

you

know? None of you have any idea how strong he really is.”
 
Yoruichi frowned. “No one can sense him.” Her eyes narrowed when Grimmjow said nothing. “

You

can?”
 
“It’s a recent perk. You think you know how powerful he is, but you don’t.” Grimmjow realized he had all of their attention, this was news to all of them, and they should fucking know. “He

pretends

to be weak. It’s a fucking act, and he got good at it. You bought it, didn’t you? He does more than pull his punches; if you had to step on an ant without killing it, could you?” He snorted. “The kid is restraint personified.”
 
Yoruichi looked surprised to hear that, but she adapted quickly enough. “Then Kisuke’s theory is even more solid. If this seal is intended to use his power against him, forcing it could be catastrophic, it’s no wonder he’s panicking, he never was the type for mass slaughter.”
 
Grimmjow wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not. Harribel asked, “Again, why contact us?”
 
Ukitake held up a bundle of silk tied with an expensive looking rope.”We have a way to free him, but we can’t use it.”
 
“Why not?” asked Starrk.
 
Ukitake said, “The sand barrier is unexpected. The soutaichou attempted to take it down, but every offensive attack he tries does little in the end. The parts that are destroyed are built back up. If he can’t get in, then there’s no way we could.”
 
Harribel said, “You think he might lower la barrera for an arrancar?”
 
“That was our hope,” said Ukitake.
 
“How,” asked Harribel, “do you expect us to get into the heart of Seireitei unchallenged? You expect us to simply trust you?”
 
Ukitake winced and said, “You have little reason to trust us, I understand. How do I prove I mean what I say?”
 
“You can’t,” said Harribel.
 
They weren’t getting anywhere like this. Grimmjow cursed and said, “I’ll do it. If it’s a trap, then fuck it, I’m dyin’ anyways. Got some sort of plan, shinigami, or is this just a big ole’ pile of suicide?”
 
Harribel spoke steeply, “I did not agree to anything, Grimmjow.”
 
“Fine, whatever. What’s the harm in hearing their plan?”
 
Harribel didn’t look amused, but she didn’t argue his point. She asked Ukitake. “Do you have a plan?”
 
“Yes and no. I’m not the only one opposed to sealing Kurosaki, you would have the help of three captains, and a couple of seated shinigami. If we could provide cover, could you get close enough to free him?”
 
“Yes.” said Grimmjow. Harribel shot him a look and he glared at her, repeating himself more resolutely. “

Yes

. I can do it.”
 
Harribel said, “You have to be sure.”
 
Grimmjow hissed, “I’m sure. He knows me.” It made him uncomfortable to say that out loud, it made it real and gave it weight. It was the truth; Kurosaki knew him inside and out, and he was quickly coming to understand Kurosaki in return. Even if he wasn’t hinging this plan on whether or not Kurosaki would recognize his presence, he had another thing going for him. “I’m connected to Alteza, he couldn’t ignore me if he tried.”
 
Harribel’s eyes fell to the jawbone on his face, and she nodded, returning her attention to the shinigami. “Fine. Where should I send Grimmjow?”
 
Ukitake looked startled by how quickly she had agreed. “Just like that?”
 
“Time is not a luxury we can afford, and this is not something we can do alone.” Harribel said. She glanced at Grimmjow again and said, “Besides, if anything were to happen to Kurosaki’s fraccion, there would be hell to pay. Keep that in mind, shinigami. If Grimmjow does not survive, neither will you.”
 
It wasn’t an idle threat, a fact which annoyed Grimmjow, but made it no less true. There were some things Kurosaki couldn’t forgive. For better or worse, the fucker gave a damn about him, and there was no going back.
 
Ukitake didn’t seem altogether bothered by this threat. He said, “I can meet you outside the West gate. You know...that Kurosaki inspires so much loyalty is a greater part of why we choose to help.”
 
“What does the loyalty of an arrancar mean to you?” Harribel asked. She wasn’t accusing him of anything, her question sounded genuine.
 
“A great deal more than I think you expect,” insisted Ukitake, “but it isn’t only you, it’s the loyalty of an officer of mine, and Kurosaki’s loyalty to her. He saved her life when we failed to, he chose to defend Seireitei from the Quincy. Those are only a few of my reasons, but the truth is the best consolation I can offer.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “What if I don’t buy the bleeding heart act?”
 
With a sigh, Ukitake continued, “If that isn’t enough for you, Soul Society still has my loyalty, and I don’t believe trapping the host of

Gods

in the middle of Seireitei will bring anything but disaster. Already nine are dead and those deaths were merely a consequence of Kurosaki’s bid for defense.” He shook his head. “As much as I’d like to believe we have the skill and power to contain a

ryoka boy

, we don’t. The sooner you take him back, the sooner the things

I

care about are safe.”
 
Settling back on his heels, Grimmjow shrugged. “I guess I buy that.”
 
“I’m glad,” Ukitake let out a nervous chuckle, “because that’s all I’ve got.”
 
Yoruichi leaned in, filling the screen and giving them all a good look at her cleavage. “West gate. Meet us there in ehhhh half an hour. See ya, Blue.” The transmission cut off.
 
Szayel spoke up from behind him. “Kurosaki’s phone went dead some time ago. If you’re going to go get him, take this.”
 
Grimmjow turned to face him and Szayel tossed the phone to him. He caught it before it could hit him in the face, ignoring the severe look of interest in Szayel’s eyes. He had no doubt the reason he kept Szayel distance at all was because they weren’t alone, but there was a hunger there that he recognized and pretended not to notice.
 
Harribel said, “I’m sending Starrk with you.” He studied the phone, wondering what the fuck was wrong with it, then realized he probably wasn’t smart enough to work it out. He slipped it into his pocket and looked to Harribel. To Starrk she said, “Should this be a trap, you leave them both behind and return.”
 
Stark nodded and Harribel looked to Grimmjow. She seemed to be expecting an answer, so he gave it to her. “I got it. If things turn south, I’m on my own.”
 
“Try not to be reckless.” Harribel’s expression grew serious. “You know the consequences.”
 
If he up and got himself killed, he knew now all too well what would become of it. He could feel Kurosaki’s capacity for vengeance, the delicate thread of his sanity, all wrapped around a very small group of people. Cut that thread, and everything would start to unravel. Grimmjow wouldn’t do that to Kurosaki.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Hunkering down in a small building just inside the outer wall, Grimmjow clenched his fists beneath his borrowed cloak. Starrk was about to be the least of their worries, so he was back to being invisible.
 
Since he’d stepped through that garganta, the weight of his responsibility pressed down like gravity. Failure meant Kurosaki got thrown into a cycle of revenge. He didn’t trust these strangers, hell, the only people he trusted were Kurosaki and himself. Kurosaki didn’t deserve this, and they needed him back.
 
Grimmjow frowned down at the bundle that was thrust into his arms. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”
 
Ukitake opened his mouth to speak, but Yoruichi cut him off. “Are you as dumb as you look or can you follow basic instructions?”
 
“

Bitch

,” growled Grimmjow, hand clasped around Pantera.
 
“Don’t forget why you’re here.” Ukitake spoke hurriedly. “There isn’t much you need to do, the Kido that created the Hōgu is just as strong now as when it was made. The legend says-”
 
“Excuse me,

legend

?” hissed Grimmjow.
 
Ukitake realized his mistake. “I assure you it’s quite reliab-”
 
“Fucking unbelievable,

whatever

. How does this shit work?” He pulled at the rope wrapped around it and uncovered what was inside. There was just a small unassuming dagger, the blade a curious matte white. “Is this thing even sharp?”
 
“No,” said Ukitake. “It isn’t for cutting souls, it drains Kido and absorbs reishi.” He reached for it, and Grimmjow let him have it. He stabbed the blade through his own hand with little to no resistance.
 
Grimmjow said, “I thought you said that thing wasn’t sharp?”
 
Ukitake withdrew it and showed him his palm. “It isn’t.” His palm was untouched, like he hadn’t just stabbed himself with a dagger.
 
Grimmjow snatched it from his hand, immediately stabbing it into his own arm. He couldn’t feel anything other than a small tingle, but that didn’t tell him much when he couldn’t feel pain. “What the fuck? How does this thing even work?”
 
Yoruichi groaned, “Stop playing with it and listen.”
 
He looked up at her, pulling it from his arm to flip it in his palm so he was comfortably holding the hilt with the blade resting against the underside of his wrist. He didn’t intend to put it down until he used it.
 
She spoke, driving her fist into the palm of her other hand. “You’re going to stab him with it. Preferably in the forehead. I’d say heart, but he’s most likely hollowfied.”
 
He looked back down at the unassuming blade. “And this thing will...do what?”
 
“Devour the kido.” said Ukitake. “But it doesn’t just vanish, that Kido will need to be redirected. If you stab someone else with it, there’s the chance the kido it devoured will be imposed on that person...or it could just blow up. The latter is more likely.”
 
Grimmjow snorted. “So you’re giving me a bomb. That’s cute.”
 
Yoruichi rolled her eyes. "If you're going to bitch we can take our irreplaceable dagger," she made a swooshing gesture with her hand, "and be on our merry way."
 
Taking a swift step back, Grimmjow scowled. “I ain’t pussying out.”
 
She crossed her arms. “Then let’s have a little talk about the plan.”
 
Grimmjow turned away, blowing her off. “I stab him with the knife. Got it.” To his surprise, Yoruichi was right there in front of him again. She was faster than he gave her credit for.
 
She said, “Don’t make a move until Yamamoto is occupied. Think you can do that?” From the way she said it, she didn’t think he could.
 
Grimmjow resisted the urge to try to hit her. She was fast and he would only embarrass himself. “Lady, do you think I’ve got a death wish?”
 
“The hair is a giveaway.” She said innocently.
 
He grit his teeth, then shouldered past her to the door. Ukitake called after him in a controlled hiss. “Grimmjow-san if you would please just wait-“
 
“Waiting for me?” A man in a...woman’s kimono blocked the exit before Grimmjow could leave, intentionally planting himself in The Espada’s path.
 
Ukitake sighed. “

Kyoraku

. You would be late to your own funeral.”
 
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Kyoraku. His eyes settled on Grimmjow. “I’d say I wished we were meeting under better circumstances, Grimmjow-san, but let’s face it, they won’t be gettin no better any time soon.”
 
Grimmjow looked for a way to squeeze around him, saw none that wouldn’t involve an uncomfortable amount of contact, and gave up. “That’s a little dark for a shinigami, ain’t it?”
 
“Speaking of, aren’t your eyes a little dark for an arrancar?”
 
“For fucks sake,” growled Grimmjow.
 
“Leave it,” said Yoruichi, “The princess is touchy about his looks.”
 
“Fuck off,” said Grimmjow. He turned on his heel, toying with the knife in his hand before he tried to stab someone with it. He didn’t know how Kurosaki looked so calm all the time, he could barely finish a conversation without wanting to tear someone’s throat out.
 
Ukitake spoke to everyone present. “

Try

not to piss off our only chance.”
 
Kyoraku said, “You know Kurosaki well, don’t you?”
 
Grimmjow paused, instantly on guard. He looked back at the shinigami, his silhouette a bit more imposing in the door frame. He’d written Kyoraku off as a fool, but that was a mistake. There was no room for mistakes, and he kept stumbling into them. He squeezed the knife in his hand, instincts urging him to get out of that room.
 
With a sigh, Kyoraku pushed off his hat and said, “It isn’t a trick question. We had you dead to rights, but Kurosaki came back for you, you matter to him.” Grimmjow took a step back, and Kyoraku looked up and let out an exasperated sigh. “That sounds like a threat, doesn’t it?”
 
“Well,” said Grimmjow, “

I am

stuck in a room with two captains and a bitch-”
 
“Asshole,” muttered Yoruichi.
 
“-you

have

me dead to rights.”
 
Kyoraku folded his arms in his sleeves and said, “Fair point.”
 
If the captain was trying to make him feel better by occupying his arms, Grimmjow had to begrudgingly admit it was working.
 
Kyoraku continued, “Why you? Is there no one else?” That simple question meant the shinigami had all come to the same conclusion Harribel and the rest of the arrancar had; if Grimmjow died, there would be hell to pay. It was no wonder the shinigami didn’t want to take that risk.
 
“I’m all you’ve got,” said Grimmjow. “I ain’t lying when I say there’s more than a handful of arrancar who would gladly be here instead, but I’m different. If he’s gone and holed up in this much pain, there’s no telling if he’s going to be able to sense reiatsu, he’s trash at it on a normal day. He

can’t

ignore me.”
 
Kyoraku’s eyes slipped to his mask in silent consideration, then he stepped into the room, freeing open the doorway. “I believe you. Go. Ukitake and I will handle Yama-jii.”
 
No one contested this, so Grimmjow slipped out the door and into sonido, hugging the walls as he snuck closer and closer to Kurosaki’s makeshift fortress.
 
The nearer he got, the larger he realized it was. He had to crane his neck to see the top, and the deep shadow it cast over Seireitei was more ominous than he thought it would be. Once he was within its shadow, it was almost as dark as las Noches, the temperature dropping a few degrees.
 
For a long time, he didn’t see anyone, but he sure as shit sensed someone. Several someone’s, all at what they deemed to be a safe distance from the pale tower of spikes, and none of them seemed to want to venture into the shade.
 
When he started to pay attention, he could see why. La sangre flickered along the deepest shadows like flames, and once he saw them, he wondered why he hadn’t noticed. Before it would have set him on edge, but now he found himself lingering closer, no longer repelled by its mere existence. He thought he understood now why Kurosaki tended to favor the dark, and why Alteza didn’t unnerve him the way it used to.
 
He crouched and pressed his shoulder to a wall, the chill soaking through the cloak so rapidly he had half a mind to believe it was unnatural. No one appeared to be brave enough to stand in the dark, he probably had no reason to hide, but he wouldn’t miss his chance on the hope no one was that stupid or brave.
 
So he waited, stretching his pesquisa to monitor the area closest to Kurosaki. He wasn’t worried he would fail so much as worried about what came next. Kurosaki was no less angry now than he had been before, something had gotten under his skin in a way he’d only seen him react to Szayel.
 
He looked down, watching la sangre gather around him like flurries drawn into a corner, and he tried to ignore it. He wasn’t sure if Alteza was feeding Kurosaki’s rage or vice versa, but it didn’t bode well either way.
 
He counted the seconds, time dragging, but it must have only been moments when he felt a surge of reiatsu, along with the weight of several more shinigami preparing themselves to fight. It was heavy, but nothing compared to Kurosaki.
 
He sprang into sonido, using the rooftops now that his distraction was well underway. He stopped arms reach from the sand, seeing now just how many spikes protruded from its surface. Some were as small as a finger, and all were needle sharp.
 
He reached out with his free hand, palm hovering over the surface. Nothing happened, and he started to sweat. He muttered, “Come on, Kurosaki,

come on

you angry fucker, let me in.

Let me in

. I know you see me.”
 
More time passed, too much, and he was startled from his determined muttering when fire raced along the surface of Kurosaki’s self made prison. He jumped back and away, blurring into sonido when the fire licked at his toes.
 
He reappeared on a rooftop a hundred yards away. The blaze was immense, heat scorching the sand along the surface into glass and a melted terrain and blunted spikes. As soon as the fire began to die, the glass dissolved like melting frost, ground back into stone by la sangre.
 
Once he was certain he wasn’t going to be burned alive, Grimmjow blurred back to where he stood before, this time pressing his palm directly onto uncomfortably hot stone. “

Kurosaki

!”
 
Darkness engulfed his vision, suddenly pulled into that sand. He tightened his grip on the dagger, but for some reason the sand and la sangre avoided it, cringing away.
 
It parted around him so abruptly he staggered, finding himself in total darkness. But not alone. It raced across his nerves and raised his hackles, he knew Kurosaki was there, his instincts warned him of it, despite the silence that rang in his ears.
 
The silence was so strong he couldn’t bring himself to shatter it, hoping his voice was steady as he hissed, “Always dragging me into your bullshit.” It wasn’t heartfelt, he just needed to say something.
 
A strained chuckle rumbled in Kurosaki’s chest, much closer than he anticipated. Now he had some idea where he was, reaching blindly into the dark. Even suppressed, getting an exact read on Kurosaki’s reiatsu was nearly as impossible as grasping fire.
 
His fingertips brushing against something hot but smooth, assuming that to be whatever Kido was binding him. he realized just where he was touching when his hand brushed a horn. He grabbed it, the edge cutting sharply into his palm. He said, “I hope you’re ready for this you sorry bastard.” Grimmjow wasn’t, but wasting time helped no one.
 
Grimmjow adjusted his grip on the dagger, feeling a flicker of doubt twist his gut. The dagger wasn’t supposed to hurt him, but he was still going to be driving a dagger into his brain, it felt wrong.
 
He forcibly ignored his fears, raising his arm and driving the dagger directly into Kurosaki’s head, straight through the Kido, straight through

Kurosaki

. Even though he was expecting it, the lack of resistance was startling.
 
After a brief second, the kido shattered, he felt it break through the hilt of the dagger, and saw the pale glow through a thousand splintered pieces, Kurosaki’s reiatsu washed over him like a tide, feeling it secondhand through Alteza.
 
He yanked backwards, finding there to be more resistance to that action than he would have expected. He heaved, the kido drawn with the motion into the blade. He heard Kurosaki gasp as it fell away in pieces, the glow dissipating in a burst of power that was sucked into the blade before his eyes could even begin to adjust.
 
He cautiously held the dagger away from him, the weapon literally vibrating with power. In the dark all he could hear was Kurosaki’s panting breaths. From how low the sound was, he still had to be on his knees. “Kurosaki.”
 
No response, only gasping breaths. He bent down, grabbing a handful of his shihakusho to hoist him up.

“Get. Up.”

For a moment, he was holding up a lot of his weight, but slowly he found his legs. Even without his sight, he sensed the sudden change in him, taking a swift step back.
 
“Koneko,” Zangetsu purred. There was a murderous edge to his voice, a pleased level of delight that sounded distinctly out of place with the rage he could still feel.
 
Grimmjow took another step back, his back hitting stone when he ran out of space. “Where’s Kurosaki?”
 
“Don’t want to see me?” His tone shifted into a savage hiss. “

I’m hurt

.”
 
“Zangetsu-”
 
The hollow whispered, “Shhhh,” his tone grew harsh, ”before I do something I’ll regret.” When he spoke again, there was a bit more distance between them. “King is busy.”
 
Grimmjow swallowed, and after a moment of silent debate, he took a risk in ignoring Zangetsu’s threat. “There are shinigami that helped me get to you, don’t do something stupid.”
 
Even in pitch dark, Grimmjow could feel Zangetsu’s eyes on him. The hollow mocked, “Stupid...stupid is letting King suffer. If King doesn’t have the balls to kill Yamamoto, I will.” The stone around them cracked, a sliver of light illuminating Zangetsu from above. The light caught his shoulder, the sharp edge of a horn.    
 
It wasn’t fixing itself anymore, Grimmjow found that strange, but he couldn’t afford to wonder why that might be. He protested, “That can’t be what Kurosaki wants.”
 
“Fuck what he wants.” Zangetsu looked up into the light, his pupils narrowing to pinpricks in the light. He reached for his sword, paused, then his gaze snapped to the weapon still held tightly in Grimmjow’s palm. “Give me the dagger.”
 
“What are you going to do with it?” Grimmjow asked.
 
Zangetsu was suddenly inches away, his voice lilting through mock cheer. “What goes around, comes around.” His hand was tight over Grimmjow’s own, taking the dagger from him whether he wanted to give it up or not. Zangetsu pulled the dagger from his grip with the ease he might have taken it from a child.
 
Grimmjow said, “You don’t even know what it does.”
 
The hollow turned the dagger over in his hand, studying it up close. The pale white of the blade was no longer dull, but glowing, power dripping from the edge like magma. “Do

you

? It devoured the kido, but do you know

why

?” Grimmjow hadn’t considered that, he hadn’t even cared until that single word; why?
 
Zangetsu drew his sword, musing over his words. “It was made by the Quincy and the shinigami, it burns with das licht. It unbalanced King, he’s dealing with it.” Black reiatsu swarmed over the surface of the Zanpakuto, continuing, “I’m going to turn it all back on Yamamoto, with interest. There’s a whole lot of Alteza in this dagger, a whole lot of power.”
 
Zangetsu hoisted his sword, preparing to loose a getsuga, and Grimmjow was struck with the reality that he was running out of time to talk him off of the edge. “And what happens after you get revenge? What next?” Grimmjow asked. It felt strange to him to be the voice of reason, but there was no one else there.
 
Zangetsu tilted his head as if considering his question, then said, “I don’t think I care.” He brought the sword down, his getsuga crashing into the stone, shattering the dome that trapped them both. If Zangetsu could have dismantled it without destroying it with brute force, Grimmjow thought he would have.
 
The hollow had stood between Grimmjow and his attack, protecting him from whatever backlash he’d created. If he thought to do that, then consequences weren’t lost on him, he was just angry and untethered, something Grimmjow didn’t think he’d seen often, and never like this.
 
Grimmjow blinked in the sudden light of day, realizing Zangetsu was gone. “Zangetsu!”

Shit, shit, shit.

Grimmjow chased after him in a buzz of sonido. He jumped up to a rooftop for a better vantage point, which consequently put him directly in the open. He grasped the hilt of his sword, but didn’t draw, getting a grasp on the situation.
 
Casting his senses out, he could sense Ukitake and Kyoraku a good distance away at the outer reaches of Seireitei, and Zangetsu was simply

there,

crossing that distance in an instant, even without Alteza. The hollow was too fast, catching up in time was nothing but a fever dream.
 
Between his goal and Grimmjow was another captain, that same angry one with the spiky hair, and the one that had captured him. Fuck their names, and fuck it if he couldn’t remember them, they were in the way.
 
He stepped into sonido, cutting a wide arc around anyone that might try to stop him. They noticed him, but since he was stupid enough to run straight at the soutaicho, they let him go with nothing but a curious, concerned glance.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Zangetsu
 
To say Kyoraku and Ukitake were surprised to see him was an understatement. He saw their confusion and wariness over the blatant shift in his personality, his body language. King had an unnerving smile, but it had nothing on his own. They didn’t know King, but they saw enough to know he wasn’t the same.
 
Immediately following that realization, their eyes settled in the dripping dagger in his hand. He didn’t know why that worried them, as if even alone he wasn’t enough to kill the soutaicho. Zangetsu loathed that shinigami, it was a hatred that spanned years and years, and now he finally had a chance to return all the pain he’d caused King, intentionally or not.
 
Yamamoto faced him fully, the confidence and derision in his eyes making Zangetsu want to gouge them out. Fire still raged around him, heavy with reiatsu, but this time things were different, this time King wasn’t here to hold them both back. The soutaicho said, “You are different.”
 
“Good, so you aren’t stupid.” He’d sheathed his sword, he didn’t want it. He wanted to feel his bones break, he wanted to dig his claws in, feel his blood hot and wet on his hands.
 
“A hollow can never hide its true nature,” said Yamamoto.
 
Zangetsu moved, too fast for Yamamoto to track, and instinct alone saved the shinigami from feeling his claws in his throat. In a quick exchange of blows, Zangetsu got the upper hand, throwing Yamamoto back and through a line of ruined buildings. He screamed, “What would you know?! You and your stupid laws are what dragged King into this shit in the first place. You think killing him or sealing him away undoes what you did?!”
 
Ukitake started, “You’re going to hold Soul Society responsible for what happened in another time?”
 
Zangetsu glanced back, but the taicho wasn’t of any concern, he was here for the soutaicho. “Soul Society is the gift that keeps on giving I don’t fucking like this flavor of Soul Society any more than the last.” He snarled, “I hate all of you.”
 
“Taimatsu!” roared Yamamoto. The fire of his shikai seared a line through the space between them, and even with half of Kurosaki’s strength, it parted around the dense layer of reiatsu he wrapped around himself and any damage that was done healed instantly.
 
Yamamoto swung again, but he wasn’t in the mood to play games, not with this fucker. He got in close, faster than Yamamoto was expecting, and sank the dagger into his chest, right into his heart. As far as effectiveness, it probably didn’t matter

where

he cut him, but fuck it if it didn’t

matter

to him. King lost everything, that pain didn’t just disappear overnight.
 
The explosion of pent up power was immense, the backlash hitting him almost as hard as Yamamoto, but he was used to taking a beating. Kurosaki lost and lost and failed and he was done letting it happen.
 
The golden wash of excess reishi filtered into the darkness of la sangre, and the power that left the dagger soaked through and into Kurosaki. Zangetsu jumped back, not wanting his window of opportunity to be taken from him because Kurosaki managed balance. Maybe that was selfish, but he deemed it was worth it.
 
The power stored in the dagger faded quickly, and to Zangetsu’s immense satisfaction, the soutaicho has been forced to take a knee. Blood poured from too many wounds to count, it did nothing to sate his bloodlust. He was breathing harder, he was tired, he was no Aizen.
 
Zangetsu sensed Kyoraku move, but instead of tearing his focus away and dealing with it, he let the shinigami get close. The cold steel of the taicho’s sword rested against the side of his neck, and without tearing his eyes away Zangetsu said, “Try, I don’t care. You can’t cut King.”
 
Zangetsu walked away, crossing to the soutaicho. He carelessly tossed the spent dagger. It bounced over broken roof tiles and ground to a halt, wedged between the rubble.
 
Kyoraku didn’t follow him, but he questioned, “Can I speak with Kurosaki?”
 
Zangetsu growled, “No.” He blurred into motion, grasping the soutaicho by the beard. He dragged him to his feet, catching his Zanpakuto when he swung it for his neck. It seared his palm, but their regeneration took care of it. “I’ve wanted to kill you for a long time.”
 
Yamamoto’s fire burned hotter, his voice rougher than he remembered, “Do you think that you can?”
 
Zangetsu leaned in and hissed, “Show me your bankai, jii-san.” He could kill him now, but what did it matter if he didn’t crush him when he was strong? He let him go only to kick him back. The shinigami blocked his kick, but it didn’t slow the force. Yamamoto slid back on his heels, pulling himself to his feet. He barely staggered, the sturdy fucker.
 
King was getting a hold over die Konigin, he was pushing back for control. Not yet, not when he was so close.
 
The soutaicho straightened, holding out his zanpakuto. “Bankai...Zanka no Tachi.” The flames around him compressed along with his reiatsu. Pure, searing power. Nothing but a fine trail of ash rose from his Zanpakuto. It scorched his throat and wrapped all of Seireitei in a blanket of dry heat.
 
He’d seen this before, it wasn’t new. An angry smile split Zangetsu’s face, a laugh bubbling up in his chest. “There was a time King

feared

you. He saw your power and thought of you as the sun.” No longer.
 
Yamamoto swung his sword, slow, slow slow slow. Zangetsu was running out of time, he drew his sword, the edge of the khyber throwing sparks off the edge of Zanka no Tachi. Then he pushed back with all the reiatsu he had at his disposal, black and red clashing with the sun.
 
It only took a second, and Zangetsu cleaved straight through Yamamoto’s bankai. The Zanpakuto fell in two, the gentle clatter of steel ringing among the ruins. It was so easy, it made him sick. Zangetsu didn’t wait to let out the breath he was holding, he was behind Yamamoto, his point of his sword resting between his shoulder blades.
 
There was the sound of shock from the pair of captains, but they were irrelevant. Zangetsu voice was low, this was for Yamamoto, not them. “If I had the time to spend with you, you would endure every agony you set on King. All of it. Aizen might have had his hand in making him, but you were never shy about using him.”
 
Zangetsu leaned forward, his sword cutting into the bone of his spine, and Yamamoto answered, glancing back at him with that same cold look of judgement he’d come to despise. “My only regret is that I failed to kill you.”
 
Grinding his teeth, Zangetsu’s rage doubled. One of the shinigami said something, but he wasn’t listening. He hissed, “I won’t make that mistake.”
 
“

Zangetsu

!”
 
Grimmjow’s voice always cut through and Kurosaki pushed back,

hard

. Not enough time.
 
All it took was an instant of force, there was barely any resistance at all, and Zangetsu cleaved through the soutaicho’s spine, his heart.
 
It did nothing to quell his anger, his helplessness.
 
Yamamoto’s knees hit the ground, he fell forward, his own weight dragging him off his sword. He fell, his reiatsu fading and leaving behind a void he hadn’t known he might miss.
 
Yamamoto was one of the last people King had felt any joy in fighting, and Zangetsu had stolen that from him. He felt no loss for Yamamoto himself, his hatred ran too deeply for that.
 
He still felt it wasn’t enough. Why was it never enough?
 
“You killed him…” He didn’t know who said it, but their disbelief stemmed from a whole different place than his own.
 
Zangetsu shuddered, then let King take back control. He pushed his consciousness down, and he knew the dread and regret he could already feel in King would only get worse.  
 
“

I did this, King. Don’t you dare take it from me.”

Forced into King’s inner world, Ossan watched him with silent disappointment. He didn’t need to say anything, Zangetsu knew how much he disapproved. He’d disapproved the first time, and any moment after where he’d taken over King’s will.
 
His only real regret was taking advantage of King’s weakness. Maybe Yamamoto wasn’t wrong, maybe hollows couldn’t help their true nature, but he didn’t care. King mattered, and there was one less shinigami to hurt him.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Hōgu: Treasured Tools ; Quincy and shinigami artifact
 
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
“

I did this, King. Don’t you dare take it from me.”

Even before he saw what Zangetsu had done, he knew. He caught his balance, staggering at the sudden shift in perspective, and stared down at Yamamoto’s body. He squeezed the hilt of his sword so tightly he shook, trying and failing to dissect his feelings over it.
 
Zangetsu’s memories started to bleed into his own, he could still feel the resistance in his sword as his hollow killed him. His hollow had savored that moment, it was so acute in his memory.
 
It was barely a fight at all, but it wasn’t an execution either. Zangetsu didn’t possess that kind of mercy, not for those he loathed.
 
He was startled from his thoughts by Kyoraku’s voice. “Kurosaki-san...What are you going to do?”
 
Ichigo blinked, then tore his eyes from Yamamoto’s corpse. Why ask at all? Then some of the surreal nature of the situation began to filter away into reality. He’d killed the soutaicho with ease, with only half of his power, and there wasn’t a mark on him. What could they do to stop him? Nothing. Kyoraku was asking because there was simply nothing the shinigami could do but react.
 
Ichigo realized he’d fostered a false sense of hope. He held back, too much, it was just a part of living. Why had he done that? For his own sake, or theirs? Fuck if he didn’t know anymore.
 
He looked down at his sword, the edge clean, Yamamoto’s blood destroyed by the sheer density of his reiatsu. It was like he hadn’t just killed him, like he wasn’t lying dead at his feet. The edge caught the light, Zangetsu’s bloodlust far from sated. Zangetsu was right; this wasn’t his own doing, but he was no less responsible for what came next.
 
Ichigo sheathed Zangetsu, feeling a deepening chasm of sadness. He hadn’t liked Yamamoto, not in the slightest, but he hadn’t realized just how much he might mourn for him. Of any shinigami left alive, he was the only one close to him in power. Others had potential, but that man had always been a symbol of something greater, as much as he disagreed with him. Now he was gone, just like that, and if not by his will, then his own hand.
 
Ichigo let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the pain of something lost, and looked back to Kyoraku. He looked deeply mournful, but composed, patiently awaiting an answer from the monster that killed his commander and a man that was something of a father.
 
Ichigo didn’t know how the shinigami managed to so calmly and quickly box up all his pain and carry on. It was more than admirable, it was humbling, and he didn’t understand how Kyoraku did it. Ichigo said, “I’m still thinking.”
 
Ukitake was watching him in a combination of upset, pity, and shock, and some distance behind him was Grimmjow. His fraccion stared at him in wide eyed concern, and once Ichigo met his eyes, the arrancar stepped into sonido to stand by his side. Grimmjow looked like he was struggling to decide if he’d made a mistake, if he should take responsibility for this.
 
It seemed like the rest of Soul Society had recovered enough from the shock to act. He could sense most of the captains shift their attention onto him, swiftly converging on his location. He was the threat; even if they couldn’t do anything when they got there, by sense of duty or otherwise, they had to go.
 
Looking back to Kyoraku, Ichigo admitted, “It’s strange...I’ve been in this moment before, but from the outside.”
 
To Ichigo’s surprise, Kyoraku humored his train of thought, questioning, “What did Yama-jii do to earn so much ire?”
 
For an instant, Ichigo was insulted, but he reminded himself his past hadn’t happened, not here. Kyoraku hadn’t even asked it like he’d invented his hatred, he sounded genuinely confused. Ichigo shook his head. “I went out of my way to protect Soul Society when it needed it, and that dedication was never returned. I didn’t expect much, but…” to be abandoned, monitored like a rabid dog...that still hurt.
 
Kyoraku sighed, then dropped out of shikai and slowly sheathed his weapons, his eyes lingering on Yamamoto. “If you have the ability to freely shift, why remain a hollow?”
 
No one had asked before, not a shinigami, and never with the intentions he saw in Kyoraku’s eyes. Ichigo swallowed his surprise and said, “There’s more than one reason.”
 
Grimmjow hissed, “It’s none of your fucking business.”
 
Ichigo looked at Grimmjow, he could see how uncomfortable that line of inquiry made the Espada. Grimmjow could feel what he did in the broadest sense, he knew better than anyone, and it was nice that he would try to protect him, but not necessary. “It’s fine,” Ichigo reassured him.
 
They were still only four, no one was close enough yet, and maybe Kyoraku deserved some kind of answer. Ichigo said, “The pain, the anger and the frustration is hard to ignore, especially now with die Konigin howling. If I have the option to carve out my heart, why wouldn’t I take it?” He felt he had to justify himself to Kyoraku, the man was watching him intently enough to be unnerving.
 
Kyoraku made a thoughtful sound. He crossed over to Ichigo without an ounce of fear, crouching down before Yamamoto. “I’m trying to understand you, Ichigo. I’m missing about a decade of context, but I think I’m starting to. Don’t take this as an insult,” Kyoraku looked up, “but you might be the loneliest person I’ve ever met.”
 
Ichigo took a step back in surprise, nearly backing into Grimmjow. His fraccion stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, but his hand lingered, grip tight. He knew Grimmjow felt that knife in his heart twist, he wasn’t used to being called out.
 
Ichigo asked, “What makes you say that?”
 
“You isolate yourself from your family, your friends, and it isn’t because of us. You...hated Yamamoto.” He struggled over the past tense. “Your hollow wouldn’t be so angry if that wasn’t how you felt. Why mourn him if you hated him?” Kyoraku’s question was genuine, and that he had been paying close enough attention at all wasn’t what Ichigo expected.
 
“You think I’m mourning him?” asked Ichigo.
 
“Am I wrong?”
 
He wasn’t. Ichigo took a step forward, away from Grimmjow’s hand, and crouched to be at Kyoraku’s level. “I did hate him. It never felt justified, but it felt good, so I did. I hated him.”  Ichigo looked over towards Yamamoto’s shattered bankai. “But...you know the feeling of drawing steel against an equal, against someone who could kill you. You know that feeling?”
 
Kyoraku said, “I do.”
 
Ichigo felt his composure crack. “He was one of the only people left that was strong enough to understand.” He let out a bitter bark of laughter. “It’s selfish, I’m not mourning for him, but for something

I

lost. It’s gone...

the challenge

is gone and now...no one can stop me.” That earned him a look from everyone, rightfully so. He hadn’t meant to be so ominous, but now it finally felt real, there was no one left outside of his own inner spirits.
 
Ichigo swiped a hand over his face. “It might have been Zangetsu that did it in the end, but I can’t lie to you and say that I regret it.”
 
Kyoraku said, “You’re very honest.”
 
“I haven’t lied to any of you,” Ichigo said. “Not intentionally.”
 
The rest of the captains and a smattering of lieutenants were getting close, too close to comfortably relax. The only ones noticeably absent were Soifon and Mayuri.
 
Lifting his hand, Ichigo clenched it into a fist as he straightened. La sangre swirled around his feet, including Grimmjow in his circle of defense. He had a feeling Soul Society had already hit him with everything they had, but he’d let his guard slip once already, it would be asinine to carelessly do so again.
 
Ichigo noticed Ukitake retrieve the white dagger that had both freed him and trapped him in a different kind of prison. He watched cautiously, not wanting to go through with that again. His soul was still uncomfortably canted towards die Konigin, and it took more than absorbing la sangre to fix it.
 
Ichigo didn’t need to look to sense Byakuya behind him. The captain demanded, “Yamamoto’s killer stands before you and you sheath your sword. Have you forgotten your vows so easily?”
 
Kyoraku stood, watching Byakuya impassively. “It’s because of them that I sheath my sword, to turn it on Kurosaki now would only result in more unnecessary bloodshed. I played my part in freeing Kurosaki. I take responsibility for this.”
 
Ichigo’s eyes widened, not expecting Kyoraku would be the one to draw the line in the sand. He could feel Zangetsu’s annoyance over Kyoraku’s insistence this was all his responsibility, but he wasn’t about to argue semantics. He reassured them all. “I don’t want to fight. I might not regret Yamamoto’s death, but I regret the rest. I didn’t mean to kill anyone.”
 
“Ah,” said Kyoraku, “You’ve shown more patience than one might expect.”
 
“Patience?” Toshiro spat the word incredulously. “You call

this

patience?”
 
Grimmjow finally cut in, shouting back at the taicho. “As if he hasn’t made every effort to work with you.

Unbelievable

.”
 
Ichigo ordered, “Drop it.” He meant it when he said he didn’t want to fight. He was exhausted, and he’d just swept the rug out from under Soul Society, they needed time too. He looked up, the last afternoon sun darkening the sky. The whispers and howls of the Gods were as omnipresent now as before, but the power creep was noticeable, at least to Ichigo it was. “I’ll give you a day, that’s the best I can do.”
 
“Or what?” asked Toshiro.
 
Ichigo finally turned to face him, teeth bared in a snarl. “Do you

want

an ultimatum?” He desperately didn’t want to give one. If he could go the rest of his afterlife without ever having to deal with Soul Society again he would be thrilled.
 
Most of the rest of the captains had made it there by then, and even without context he was the biggest threat; all swords were drawn but Kyoraku’s and Ukitake’s. Ichigo growled, “Take care of your dead, sort out your command, I’m going home.”
 
Toshiro said, “You kill the soutaichou and you expect us to fall in line?”
 
“You can work with me, or against me, those are your only options, and I don’t suggest the latter.” Ichigo didn’t care to wait for a response, he would deal with Zangetsu, but not with an audience.
 
Ichigo growled, “You have 24 hours.” La sangre swallowed both him and Grimmjow, and he didn’t care to take them to las Noches, he dropped them in the middle of nowhere.
 
Grimmjow muttered, “Y’know I don’t miss the nausea.”
 
A tired chuckle escaped Ichigo as he sat back heavily on the dunes. “What is it they say about silver linings?” He heard Grimmjow flip open a phone and tap away at the buttons, texting a message. He was glad that someone had thought ahead, because the only thing he was interested in was doing right then was nothing. If he did nothing, no one died, governments stayed intact, and Gods stayed asleep.
 
Ichigo could feel the question in the air before Grimmjow spoke it. The Espada fidgeted, then crouched beside him, asking, “What the fuck happened?”
 
He didn’t want to linger on it, but Grimmjow risked his life over it, he deserved the truth. He deserved it just for putting up with him. Getting a blurry read off of his pain and emotions didn’t really tell a story. Ichigo let out a mocking huff of laughter. “It’s Aizen, it’s

always

Aizen. He’s dead and he still has his teeth in me.” He could feel Grimmjow’s confusion just in the way he stared at him. “I don’t want to be like him, but I am. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?”
 
“Why does it matter?” Grimmjow asked the question carefully, fearfully.
 
It pissed Ichigo off to know Grimmjow was justified in his fear. Maybe he wasn’t a clone of Aizen, but he was only a stone’s throw away. He was well on his way to being just as fucking insane as Aizen was, and the reason he wasn’t was sitting two feet away from him, afraid a

question

would tempt violence. Ichigo knew he was fucked in an abstract way, but sometimes he was struck by a moment of clarity.
 
Tightening his hand into a fist, Ichigo repeated the question under his breath. “Why does it matter?” It shouldn’t, it really shouldn't. Aizen was just a ghost in his head, a memory, but fuck if that memory didn’t feel real. He could still hear his voice, feel the dull throb of failure. “Because I

hated

him.” That word alone tightened his throat and made his blood boil.
 
Ichigo soothed that rage with the memory of Aizen’s blood and the sound of his bones splintering under his hands. Pretending to be who he used to be was nothing but a lie. He loved to fight, he never stopped to wonder why. Aizen took that love and twisted it. Even silently acknowledging he could be just as sadistic as Aizen ached.
 
Ichigo laughed, his voice seeped in derision. “Fuck if it doesn’t make me

angry

that Aizen won. Anger is easy.” As if Grimmjow didn’t know that. He lifted his shoulder in a sheepish shrug. “I got caught because I’m stupid.”
 
Some or all of what he said annoyed Grimmjow, he didn’t need to look to sense the tension in the Espada. Grimmjow finally sat back on the sand and growled, “Is it true you sat there and let your reiatsu eat you alive so you wouldn’t kill anyone else?” Ichigo just looked at him, wondering who’d come to that conclusion. He wasn’t wrong, but he had to wonder how he knew.
 
Grimmjow carried on when he didn’t refute it. “I didn’t know the guy, but from the way you talk about the prick, he wouldn’t have given a shit about killing some or even all of the shinigami...or anyone really.”
 
Grimmjow paused, trying to reorganize his thoughts. He swiped a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable being privy to any of Ichigo’s emotions at all. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of self loathing for a guy who’s got more in common with

me

than Aizen, and ya don’t hate me, so...” The Espada shrugged, changing the subject before he could be questioned. “Which of us fucked you up to make you panic like that?”
 
Ichigo winced and skirted the question. “Does it matter?” It was bad enough to panic, but another entirely to know someone else had felt it, even if it was an abstracted by distance .
 
“Was it me?” Grimmjow asked.
 
Ichigo looked at Grimmjow in surprise. Did it really bother him that much? From the restless way the Espada shifted, it did.
 
Ichigo shook his head and said, “No…” He thought it went without saying that he didn’t like being restrained. Coupled with pain and darkness, it dredged up plenty of memories he would much rather forget. “No, that was all Szayel.”
 
That seemed to ease Grimmjow’s mind, and it prompted Ichigo to ask. ”What if it

was

you?”
 
Grimmjow shrugged and muttered, “I don’t know. Was just wondering if I was more of a dick than I thought I was.”
 
“You were never a sadist, Grimmjow. Maybe over enthusiastic.” Grimmjow was a hunter and a fighter, through and through. He might enjoy himself, but he wouldn’t say he ever had a penchant for playing with his food. Ichigo was different, he couldn’t in good faith say he didn’t enjoy every second of Szayel’s pain.
 
Rather than wallow in the helplessness Zangetsu had forced onto him, he held those memories close, enough to seize him with the desire to kill.
 
“Fucking hell, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow muttered, “When I feel like shit I don’t make myself feel better with murder.”
 
Of course Grimmjow would notice, it was an all consuming feeling, which was why Ichigo turned to it so frequently. He chuckled under his breath, noting Grimmjow’s fear, but like usual, he hadn’t run, and Ichigo didn’t think he would. Ichigo said dryly, “I could actually go kill something, but I’m exhausted and my soul hurts, leave me to my fantasies.”
 
“Oh,

believe me,

I would if I could,” growled Grimmjow. It was unfortunate that he had to feel that, but he was taking it better than Ichigo thought he would.
 
The silence stretched, not uncomfortably so, but Grimmjow was the one to break it. “That dagger pulled Alteza out of you, right? Isn’t that a good thing?”
 
His question only served to remind Ichigo of the futility of their joint situation. Alteza was pestilence, and die Konigin was wrath, and both of them were never meant to be contained by a soul, but it didn’t stop them from utterly owning him. Ichigo scoffed, “No more than losing all your blood is a good thing. Hurt like hell...it still hurts.”
 
Grimmjow snuck a glance at him, but Ichigo thought he caught the guilt in his eyes anyway. “I didn’t know.”
 
“It’s fine. Nothing’s free.” It wasn’t Grimmjow’s choice that cost him, but his own.
 
A good deal of pain still lingered in his soul, but that was less of a concern to him than Zangetsu. Now that he could call himself calm without feeling like a liar, he could deal with him. His trust in his hollow was still absolute, he knew everything Zangetsu did was for him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry.
 
He pulled on Zangetsu’s power, forcing his hollow to manifest. After being trapped in his inner world for hours, Ichigo wasn’t keen to go back so soon.
 
His hollow materialized before him, eyes narrowed in challenge. “I ain’t sorry.”
 
Grimmjow’s discomfort was palpable, he didn’t want to be caught in the middle, and Ichigo pitied him, but not enough to spare him it.
 
Ichigo glared back up at his hollow. “I know you’re not.”

Don’t do it again.

He didn’t need to say it out loud, it reverberated through his entire being.
 
Zangetsu moved, his inner spirit in far better shape than Ichigo was at the moment. He flattened Ichigo to his back on the sand, his hand fisted in the front of his kosode. Zangetsu shouted, “Don’t look at me like that! I did what I had to!”
 
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, but did nothing to defend himself. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard those words.”
 
“Shut up!” Zangetsu’s grip tightened, his other hand twitching towards the sword on his back, but he left it where it was.
 
Ichigo grabbed his hollow’s forearm tightly enough that he couldn’t escape. “I don’t think so.

You

did this, you don’t get to ignore me.” If Zangetsu wanted to go there, so help him, he would suffer the consequences.
 
Grimmjow wisely backed up, giving them both space.
 
Zangetsu pulled on his arm, trying to free himself, but Ichigo’s grip only tightened. Zangetsu reached for his sword, and Ichigo didn’t hesitate to let him go to draw the trench knife. Ichigo blocked his strike, sending it over his head, and rolled to the side, on his feet in a heartbeat.
 
Zangetsu attacked, throwing his anger into an offensive onslaught Ichigo was still too weak to oppose. Ichigo clenched his teeth through each angry strike, backing the blade with his other hand, but he was still forced back. He knew it pissed Zangetsu off even more that he chose to use his Quincy sword. Ichigo saw the rage on his face, but he felt the betrayal in his soul.
 
Zangetsu thrust the sword forward and Ichigo didn’t even try to block. He dropped his arms and the sword sank through his guts, his ribs, but there was no pain. Zangetsu looked as surprised as Grimmjow sounded. Ichigo took a step forward onto the sword, the resistance there, but he was unharmed. Ichigo flashed him both an understanding and bitter smile. “Did you really think I’d reject you?”
 
His hollow’s hand trembled, he could feel it through the sword. From the look on Zangetsu’s face, he had. Ichigo said, “You took away my choice, of course I’m angry.”
 
He took another step, impaling himself further onto that sword, fisting his hand in fabric to jerk his hollow closer. His voice was quiet, breaking. “Don’t take that from me.” He was one push away from snapping, denial was the glue holding him together. He didn’t want to beg, but he couldn’t handle any more of this, not from Zangetsu.
 
Zangetsu gave in, breaking eye contact. “Doesn’t feel like anger, King.”
 
That moniker was back again, and whatever rage Zangetsu had was crumbling under Ichigo’s distress. His hollow was right, it wasn’t really anger.
 
Zangetsu disappeared, leaving nothing but a strange fuzzy sensation where he’d been stabbed. His hollow stubbornly growled,

“I still ain’t sorry.”

Ichigo let out a heavy breath. “Ah...I know.” He sheathed his sword and sat again, which Grimmjow took to mean it was safe to wander back over.
 
The Espada was staring at him with such confusion, it took Ichigo a moment to realize why. He explained, “He’s my inner spirit, Grimmjow, he can’t hurt me if I don’t let him.”
 
Grimmjow spoke slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”
 
Ichigo leaned forward on his knees, hoping Grimmjow would relax if he did, and bit by bit he saw the tension drain out of the Espada. Ichigo said, “There’s a reason I use Zangetsu as a shield; we can’t hurt each other, it solves a lot of problems.”
 
“Sure waited a long time to tell me,” Grimmjow griped. He sat down again on his left, avoiding eye contact in away that wasn’t so deliberate.
 
Ichigo shrugged. “It just didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t know.”
 
“Of course I didn’t, do I look like a shinigami, dipshit?” Ichigo flopped to his back with an over exaggerated sigh in response and Grimmjow was sidetracked. “Hey, you’re going to sleep?”
 
“Try. That

was

the plan,” said Ichigo. “I wouldn’t have had a snowball’s chance in hell if I hadn’t dealt with my little domestic dispute.” And it was dealt with; he wasn’t happy about it, but he could live with it, he had to.
 
“Those two shinigami went out of their way to help you.”
 
“Kyoraku and Ukitake were always rather moderate, I’m not that surprised.” Ichigo looked over at Grimmjow. “That bothers you?”
 
“Why the fuck would they do that? You’re part hollow, they’re shinigami.” Grimmjow said it as if that explained everything.
 
Ichigo said, “For the same reason I helped Ishida.”
 
Grimmjow growled under his breath. “Prick doesn’t deserve

half

of the help you gave him.”
 
Ichigo let out a huff of disagreement. “I’m not saying he shouldn’t take responsibility, but he’s just a high schooler, and the Quincy used him like a two dollar whore, letting him die for it doesn’t solve anything.” That was neither here nor there, it was already dealt with, and the crux of this wasn’t Ishida, but the shinigami. “If they lock me up, they’ll still have problems, and the next guy might not be so nice.” He looked over at Grimmjow, well aware of his unease. “You don’t trust them, that’s fine. Neither do I.”
 
Grimmjow scoffed, like the idea of Ichigo trusting anyone was laughable. “So now what happens next?”
 
“The shinigami will have chosen a new soutaichou by the time I-” from the frown on Grimmjow’s face, he felt the need to remedy that statement. “

-we

return. But Yamamoto’s death might mean more problems. The only other shinigami old enough to know what the fuck I want to know, are clearly ignorant of the situation.”
 
“What situation,” Grimmjow asked. “The God situation?”
 
“Obviously,” said Ichigo.
 
“What makes you say that?”
 
“You saw the looks on their faces when I brought up the Gods,” Ichigo said, “they thought I was insane.”
 
“Ya kinda were, Kurosaki,” deadpanned Grimmjow. From the scowl Ichigo shot him, he didn’t linger on the subject. “Maybe they just have really good poker faces.”
 
“

Please

, I’ve played cards with all of them, they’re almost as bad at lying as I am.” Ichigo frowned at the sky, recalling Gin’s confusing apology. “Except for Gin, I never could figure him out, but Aizen killed him before I could really bother.”
 
Grimmjow stared at him, he could feel his eyes burning into the side of his head. Ichigo finally snapped, “

What

?”
 
The Espada asked, “How well did you know these shinigami?”
 
Ichigo thought about that, staring back up at the roiling sky. “I dunno...I always got the impression they weren’t being entirely forthcoming. Most shinigami kept their distance, but I never really knew if it was orders or personal preference. It was pretty rare to see or talk to anyone outside of a fight.”
 
“This was

while

you were fighting for their sorry asses?!”
 
Ichigo wasn’t expecting Grimmjow to get so angry about it, but then, he was still dealing with the anger from more than one person, and the Espada got heated about almost everything. “Yes,” he said.
 
“You know I can feel that,” said Grimmjow.
 
Acknowledging that fact made them both uncomfortable, but Grimmjow drew his attention to that sharp sting in his heart, no matter how far removed he was from it. Ichigo made a disgusted sound, turning his eyes back to the sky. “It doesn’t matter if they used me or not. Didn’t happen, remember?”
 
Rather than linger in the past, Ichigo ordered, “Go, fill in Harribel.” Grimmjow inhaled to argue and Ichigo steamrolled whatever argument he was about to make. “You’re coming with me, but watching me sleep is a waste of time.” Grimmjow shut his mouth, glowering at him. “And leave the phone.”
 
Grimmjow swore, getting to his feet and throwing the cell at him almost as hard as he could. Ichigo caught it without looking. Any harder and it would be in pieces in his hand. Ichigo looked over at him and said, “Thanks.” That was an overarching statement, he meant that in more ways than one.
 
Before Grimmjow could say anything else, he sent him through la sangre to Harribel, his sudden solitude both necessary and unwanted.
 
He might trust Grimmjow, but he still had his pride to consider.
 
Curling up on his side, Ichigo screamed, his claws digging into his sides. That pain was transient, his healing too fast for it to sink more than skin deep. Frustration didn’t even begin to describe it, he didn’t have the luxury of melting down, and going out of his way to kill anything he could get his claws in wouldn’t fix it.
 
His sword dug into his hip, his armor biting into his shoulder, and he preferred it that way. Pain was a distraction he could live with.

“King…”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” growled Ichigo. He had a handful of hours to get his shit together, and keep it that way, and he would do it his own way, even if that way was terrible.

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
Feet striking solid ground, Grimmjow staggered, his equilibrium settling as he took note that he was no longer in the desert, but Las Noches. “

Fucker

.” He didn’t feel like his existence was being rejected anymore, but the downside was that Kurosaki could send him wherever the fuck he wanted with no repercussions.
 
Kurosaki was a chaotic mix of emotions, and none of them were positive. It wasn’t that he thought the visored would do something stupid, but it was worrying when he knew how unpredictable it could make him.
 
“Grimmjow?”
 
Pulled from his thoughts by Harribel’s question, Grimmjow turned to look at her, noting that not only was Starrk present, but Neliel. Grimmjow answered her unasked questions as tersely as possible. “Yes, Yamamoto is dead. Yes, Kurosaki is fine.”
 
“Then where is he?” asked Nel.
 
Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets, doing everything in his power to ignore Kurosaki. He drawled, “Don’t get yer panties in a bunch, princess, he’ll live. You know what he’s like.”
 
She crossed her arms, her lips pulled into a tight frown, and resigned herself to frustrated silence. Harribel chided, “I need context, Grimmjow.”
 
“That dagger the shinigami gave us was made by the Quincy, it had das licht in it, so it fucked up Kurosaki’s soul and Zangetsu took control. Zangetsu was the one that killed Yamamoto.”
 
Grimmjow saw the surprise in Harribel’s eyes, and her question took him completely by surprise. “Was it intentional?” He stared at her and Harribel clarified, “Were the shinigami aware of the effect this dagger would have on Kurosaki?”
 
Grimmjow hadn’t thought of that, he hadn’t considered that that could have been their intention from the start. Starrk spoke up. “For what purpose? Surely they didn’t

intend

for Kurosaki to kill the soutaichou? Why shoot themselves in the foot?”
 
Harribel said, “That was merely a consequence of what the dagger actually did.” Her eyes flicked towards Grimmjow. “Explain to me in detail what happened.”
 
So he did. He tried his best not to leave out any details, but he wasn’t a fucking storyteller. Harribel asked a few probing questions, the look on her face unreadable. She said, “If the other shinigami, Kyoraku, was non-confrontational, we can’t rule out that this might have been intentional. I can’t say I can guess to what end they would do so. We should be cautious.”
 
Nel shifted, her arms crossed, and asked, “He’s going back in 24 hours, well, a bit less than that now, right? He isn’t going alone, is he?”
 
Before Grimmjow could answer, Harribel said definitively. “He isn’t.” That answered that, and Grimmjow knew Kurosaki would heed her wishes. Whatever arrangement they had, she was one of the few people he actually listened to.
 
Grimmjow turned on his heel and Nel called after him. “Where are you going?”
 
“I’m not gonna stand around waiting with you, but I’m going,” said Grimmjow.
 
No one stopped him, he was grateful for that. He could still feel the dredges of unpleasant feelings from Kurosaki, and he had his own bullshit to try to work out, so despite his initial reluctance, this was still in his favor. 21 hours, give or take. Should be plenty of time.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Urahara Kisuke
 
“Zangetsu killed him?” questioned Urahara.
 
“Ah,” said Yoruichi. “He didn’t have control for long, Kurosaki pushed him out.” She cocked her head at him. “You expected that?”
 
Kisuke dipped his head. “It was a possibility. He remained in hollow form?”
 
“He did,” she answered. She took a seat on the table he sat at so she could face him. “Is that relevant?”
 
“It is. Kurosaki’s soul is a smaller scale of what’s happening in the realms. That dagger was an artifact of a time when shinigami and Quincy still worked together, whatever made it, no longer exists. If it was purely das licht, he would have been forced out of his hollow state.”
 
Yoruichi frowned at him. “That’s important?”
 
“It is,” said Kisuke. “Who has the dagger now?”
 
“The shinigami.”
 
Kisuke nodded, already distracted. In the past, he wouldn’t have known what to look for, who knew what other artifacts from before Seireitei were made from actual source. If he couldn’t get his hands on any of them, they might as well not exist. “You say 24 hours until Kurosaki returns?”
 
“Ah.”
 
That left twenty three hours and about twenty minutes from when he’d brought Yoruichi back. He said, “Be there, observe, Kurosaki most likely won’t tell us everything.”
 
She leaned on her arm and reached for him, fingers ghosting across the stubble along his jaw. She guided his attention to rest on her, and not his thoughts. She asked, “Is there any reason we’re keeping this to ourselves?”
 
“Kurosaki-san is unpredictable. Until I can be certain how he’ll react, it stays between us,” Kisuke said. Kurosaki was an emotional person, even if he tended to lean towards rage. The wrong sort of push, and he really would become a monster. That dark sand only raised more questions than answers, and he wouldn’t have Kurosaki doing something rash without thinking it through.
 
She made a slightly annoyed sound and flicked his forehead before he had any hope to dodge. He winced and she said, “You reek. For God’s sake, shower and eat something. We have time.” She made to get up and she leaned back in again, remembering something. “And don’t you dare just jump into a gigai.”
 
Kisuke gave her a sheepish smile. “Yes, oku-sama.”
 
She rolled her eyes and pushed herself up. “I haven’t seen you this worked up about anything since the visored.”
 
It was a sore subject, but she was perhaps the only one who could speak to him about it casually, and he could appreciate that. He shrugged helplessly and said, “I’m not interested in watching the realms collapse on themselves.”
 
She gave him a knowing look, silently replacing ‘the realms’ with ‘Kurosaki’. She knew he took some level of personal responsibility for what Kurosaki was going through. He’d helped the boy for awhile, thinking that was only right when he might just go and get himself killed, especially with Rukia’s crash training. Somewhere along the line, he’d stepped over it. He’d effectively killed Isshin’s son. Killed him and let the world rip him apart.
 
Yoruichi walked past him, her hand sliding over his chest to the side of his neck before that lingering touch was gone. “Shower. Eat. Your impersonation of a homeless man is going a bit too far.”
 
He chuckled and pushed himself to his feet, his hand tight around Benihime. His desire to fix things was a problem, but one he wasn’t too interested in changing. “I know it isn’t in your nature to be early, but, be early.”
 
She brushed him off. “Yeah, yeah. You got me closer last time; District 60.”
 
He reiterated. “Early, Yoruichi-san.”
 
She made a disgusted noise, like he was underestimating her speed, and left the room. Well, he wouldn’t have it be said he didn’t try. He was still new to opening portals, especially in an area he’d never visited before. The root of the problem was that it wasn’t an exact science, which annoyed him beyond belief.
 
He found his thoughts drifting back to the shinigami and he latched onto Yoruichi’s order before it slipped his mind. “Shower…” He could do that.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Bit of a transition bit, but the next chapter will be involved so I didn’t want to cram them both together.
 
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Let’s make believe that things will stay this way

And that our hearts won’t break

Cause we’re not long for this place.”

~Les Friction, Make Believe
 
--- xxx ---

Shunsui Kyōraku
 
Kyoraku wasn’t certain why Kurosaki had given an absurdly unreasonable time limit. Was it based on necessity, annoyance, or ignorance? He could insist on the latter, but he didn’t think that was the case. It was barely time to arrange a funeral, let alone deal with whatever breaking of the law he and the others had attempted, on top of choosing a new soutaichou.
 
No one was certain what Kurosaki would do if they didn’t attempt to hold to his time limit, but Kyoraku was of the opinion the visored wouldn’t do anything too violent. That opinion was only shared by a few, and for good reason.
 
Having the knowledge that Kurosaki’s inner hollow had been the one to kill Yamamoto didn’t reassure anyone, all it did was call into question Kurosaki’s sanity.

Again

. More than a few captains believed it had something to do with the dagger used to dispel the Kido that bound him, and it was a solid guess, but still just a guess.
 
Kurosaki was more of a mystery than any of them wanted to admit. Those who might have been able to explain were too loyal to Kurosaki to spill, and Kurosaki himself barely trusted his own family. He was a tricky person to unravel, even if his motivations seemed straightforward enough.
 
While Kyoraku’s own crimes were being assessed, he was named acting commander. It was temporary, but with a looming threat, a little bit of treason suddenly didn’t seem so bad. He didn’t want the job, he thought it should go to Unohana, or even Ukitake, but he knew why they had been overlooked too well.
 
As it stood, he’d ordered all of the captains gathered in one place for the past hour, not wanting to have to deal with the scramble Kurosaki kept throwing them into. However he managed to do it, he was bypassing the shield around Seireitei like it was rice paper. They were fast, but going from one place to another in the blink of an eye? That was ludicrous, but no less real.
 
No one complained at having to wait, not that he would expect them too. Kurosaki was at the center of a hell of a lot of problems, ignoring him just wasn’t feasible.
 
The air in the captain’s meeting room was both tense and solemn, despite the informality of the gathering. Soifon, Byakuya, Komamura and Hitsugaya kept relatively to their post, but the rest were scattered to the walls or corners. Kyoraku still stood at the head of the room, where Yama-jii should be, but was now conspicuously absent. It was daunting to stand in his place, even temporarily, to know how many more lives counted on him, and how easy it would be to make a mistake.
 
He didn’t envy Kurosaki, even if the visored had willingly taken that responsibility onto himself in this timeline, from his understanding, in the past it was thrust onto him with little to no choice. Choice seemed to be a very sore subject for the visored, and Kyoraku couldn’t say he blamed him. They say a good king served his subjects, but Kurosaki himself had shown his will was not his own, he wasn’t shy about telling them that.
 
This meeting could go any number of ways, but it was clear to all of them that their old methods weren’t going to work. They were essentially inviting a potentially rabid wolf into their house. Inviting was a strong word, it was more like their rice paper house was easy to tear down.
 
Since the prevailing theory was that Kurosaki seemed to be able to choose exactly where to go, the hope was to contain him in the first division. By ‘contain’, they meant to give him no reason to leave the area. The closer you were to Kurosaki, the higher risk you were at to being killed.
 
The first division barracks had been cleared out besides the captains that now stood in the meeting room, and the Onmitsukido patrolling the perimeter.
 
There was a sudden shift in the air, one Kyoraku instantly recognized. It was like fingers trailing up his spine and ghosting through his soul.

Alteza

.
 
His instincts rallied against the feeling, desiring nothing more than to go the other way, but he crushed his fear, it wasn’t necessary. Every captain tensed, all pulled by the same strings. Some reached for their swords, others were deeply considering it.
 
Darkness lapped at the floor, swirling in a lazy circle, and everyone took a small, cautious step back. It surged like sparked gunpowder and fell away like surf to reveal Kurosaki, Harribel, and the arrancar that acted as his lieutenant, Grimmjow.
 
Both Kurosaki and Grimmjow seemed fine, but Harribel’s legs almost buckled under her. Kurosaki’s grip on her bicep and her own willpower kept her on her feet. Despite the seeming nonchalance in Kurosaki’s demeanor, her brief weakness had the visored on high alert. If Soul Society had anything left up their sleeve, playing that card now would be fatal. Kurosaki might take risks when it came to himself, but not those he considered his own.
 
Despite everything, Kyoraku found that trait to be admirable. Others might not have had the power to back up such devotion to their subjects, but Kurosaki proved again and again that he did.
 
Kyoraku shot Toshiro a look when the captain’s grip tightened on his sword, silently urging him to be still. He said, “Punctual. That’s almost exactly 24 hours.”
 
Kurosaki’s eyes kept wandering, never settling. “It’s more impressive given there’s nothing but a moon; it’s hard to keep track.” The visored wasn’t on edge to protect himself, not from the way he was standing. It was to protect the two with him. That just about said everything Kyoraku needed to know. Kurosaki’s eyes flicked back over to Kyoraku. “Given your role in freeing me, I take it Central 46 put your trial on hold in lieu of-” he made air quotes, “-the threat.”
 
Kyoraku’s brows shot up. “You’re well acquainted with Central 46?”
 
“Don’t pretend you didn’t already guess,” chided Kurosaki. His grip on Harribel’s arm loosened, slowly letting her take back her weight. “I spent a good amount of time on trial in Soul Society. Once I died, I was completely in your jurisdiction.” He muttered, “Although, that didn’t stop Soul Society when it came to the Quincy.”
 
“On trial for what?” questioned Soifon. Kurosaki turned to face her, and he looked like he was surprised she had the balls to talk to him at all. Kyoraku had to admit, he was impressed too.
 
Kurosaki counted off on his fingers. “Lots of things. Obtaining illegal hollow power, disruption of the living world, attacking another captain-”
 
Soifon sputtered, “You-you can’t mean

you

were a captain?”
 
Kurosaki talked right over her, but from the resolute look on his face, that was what he was saying. “Use of forbidden Kido, remaining in the human world, murder, yadda, yadda, it isn’t important. The point is that I know how the Central 46 work. I don’t want them involved.”
 
That was a long list of transgressions, if Kurosaki was telling the truth. It was no wonder he knew how their judicial system functioned. Without meaning to, Kyoraku felt a grim smile stretch his face as the pieces clicked. “The sand. You

were

assuring martial law.” Despite the unseated officers Kurosaki had killed on accident, the sand had been little more than a persistent nuisance.
 
Kurosaki’s smile mirrored his own. “Call those old men necessary all you want, being put on trial for doing your due diligence is a waste of time.”
 
Soifon had some choice words for that, but Kyoraku talked over her. “Pleasantries aside, what do you want from us?”
 
Harribel found her feet and her voice. “Kurosaki is here acting on behalf of the Gods. I am here solely for Hueco Mundo.”
 
Kyoraku’s eyes flicked to Grimmjow, and the Espada bared his teeth. “I’m here to stand around and look pretty.” Lies it was; Kyoraku got the feeling Grimmjow was more necessary than they let on.
 
Harribel continued, “As you know, Kurosaki has the full support of Las Noches…”
 
Kurosaki finished her statement. “And Las Noches has the full support of Alteza.”
 
“And the Quincy?” asked Byakuya.
 
Kurosaki answered smoothly. “Are mine. I clipped their wings. For now, they’re removed from the picture.”
 
Kyoraku wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but for Kurosaki to casually handle an invasion sized force was just a reminder that he was being exceedingly gentle with Seireitei. His eyes flicked to Harribel. “I imagine you want to negotiate terms and boundaries, but you,” his eyes landed on Kurosaki, “I’m sorry to say, I still don’t know what you want.”
 
Frustration flickered through Kurosaki’s posture and expression, but he had a better handle on it now than he had in the past. Kurosaki said, “Information. We don’t have hundreds of years left to figure this out. We have years.”
 
Toshiro said, “We?

You

killed the Soul King, that’s on you.”
 
Kurosaki looked back at him, his voice surprisingly level. “I didn’t have a choice, but it

is

my fault, I can concede that. If I could fix it on my own, I would. There’s only one of me, I can’t do this alone.”
 
Maybe it was the way he said it, but silence stretched in the wake of those words. Kurosaki wasn’t lying, Kyoraku didn’t expect that from him, but this was an honest truth Kurosaki didn’t want to admit. For someone used to doing everything alone, asking for help wasn’t easy.
 
Kyoraku said, “I’ll be honest, I don’t know anything.”
 
“Not you.” Kurosaki almost cut him off, turning to face Unohana. “You.”
 
Her eyes widened, beginning to protest. “Me? I don’t-”
 
Kyoraku blinked, and Kurosaki moved from one place to another in an instant, his hand tight over Unohana’s mouth. Every captain present reached for their sword, but froze on account that Kurosaki was essentially holding one of their own hostage.
 
Kurosaki struggled with his rage, Kyoraku could see it in the blood that dripped from his clenched fist. The visored hissed, “There’s no one left to lie for.

Do not

lie to me,

Kenpachi

.” He spat the name like an insult, a name he

should not

know.
 
Unohana narrowed her eyes, some of her mask crumbling. There was bloodlust in her eyes that Kyoraku hadn’t seen in a long time, there was no fear. With how strong Kurosaki was, Kyoraku was surprised this hadn’t happened sooner.
 
She lifted her hand to Kurosaki’s wrist, urging him to move his hand or risk starting a fight. If they fought now, she would die, and Kurosaki lost his chance.
 
The visored reluctantly let her go, clawed fingers uncurling from her face. Even though Kurosaki’s eyes were locked on Unohana, Kyoraku had the impression he was watching all of them

very

carefully.
 
It had become clear to Kyoraku that the visored wasn’t accustomed to dealing with multiple threats. If Kurosaki’s story was true, and he didn’t doubt that it was, his sole enemy for years had been Aizen. From the moment he’d made himself king of a ruined city, Kyoraku had seen the shift in his approach. To adapt so quickly and effectively to facing a

group

of hostiles was a bit frightening.
 
Kyoraku said, “If you would refrain from laying a hand on any of my captain’s, it would do wonders to ease our concerns.”
 
Kurosaki grit his teeth and growled, “Apologies.” It looked like the apology cost him to say, but it was still genuine. Despite the front he held up, it was very clear that the aggressive, dangerous visored they had all come to expect was only hidden, not gone.
 
Unohana said, “That is a grave accusation. What leads you to believe I would withhold information?” Unohana didn’t move, not cowed by Kurosaki’s threat, in fact, she looked a touch too eager.
 
“You were here when Seireitei was built,” Kurosaki said.
 
Unohana didn’t deny it, it was true. “Who told you this?”
 
Kurosaki’s lip curled in disgust. “Aizen.”
 
She accused, “You trusted Aizen to tell the truth?”
 
He countered, “Sometimes.” Kurosaki studied her expression, his own faltering into uncertainty. “Unless...you really don’t know.”
 
“Kurosaki,” started Kyoraku. He didn’t continue until he had the visored’s attention. “Assume we’re ignorant of everything. Until recently, I hadn’t ever heard of these Gods, now I can

hear

them, and I’m not sure what to make of it. What seems obvious to you, may not be to us.”
 
Kurosaki stared blankly, as if he hadn’t considered that before, his head tilted in thought. He shot a look to Harribel, something unspoken passing between them, and Kurosaki raised his hand, clenching it into a fist.
 
Suddenly, half of his captains had their swords half drawn. The only thing that kept their swords in their sheaths was Kurosaki’s apparent lack of aggression and Kyoraku’s insistence on keeping his own sheathed.
 
Darkness swirled around Kurosaki’s feet once again, sand filtering through with it, blown by an invisible wind.
 
Kurosaki said dryly, “You’ve all seen la sangre by now.”
 
“The sand?” questioned Mayuri. Of every captain present. Mayuri was the only one that seemed generally unaffected.
 
“No...the darkness. The sand isn’t really sand, it’s bone; the dust of death and decay.” The visored shot Grimmjow a look, holding the Espada’s eyes as he fell out of hollowfication. It was almost surreal. Kyoraku had gotten so used to seeing the streaks of black on his face, to see him look human only served to remind him that Kurosaki had been dragged into this as a human teenager.
 
Kurosaki lifted his hand again, strips of the ground around him peeling away into pure reishi, absorbed into him as if it were his own reiatsu. Kurosaki said, “Then there’s the other half of the spectrum. Die Konigin is life, reishi falls into its domain as much as light itself. Alteza commands the bones of the dead, die Konigin commands the blood of the living. On a smaller scale, blut vene and blut arterie. On the larger, life itself.”
 
Kurosaki gestured vaguely. “I don’t know much about Soul Society’s part in this, but I know that die Konigin and Alteza can’t affect sekkiseki. Only something created by or of the Gods can pull that off.”
 
Admitting that aloud seemed to make Kurosaki nervous, and Kyoraku couldn’t help but note that Kurosaki was taking a risk in trusting them with what might be his greatest weakness. Granted, they might have figured it out if they’d been given time to, but Kurosaki offered it willingly.
 
Mayuri said, “If that’s true, why are you unaffected by the barrier around Soul Society?”
 
“What gave you that idea?” Mayri scowled at him and Kurosaki pretended not to notice. “I still feel resistance. I think it has to do with my reiatsu,” he shrugged stiffly, “but that’s just a guess.”
 
Kyoraku wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but outside of his hollow form, Kurosaki seemed even more unstable than before. He held up a front of calm, but as before, it didn’t go much further than skin deep, He hadn’t forgotten what Kurosaki said about cutting out his own heart, and he wasn’t keen on dealing with a version of Kurosaki with years and years of unresolved rage simmering just beneath the surface.
 
It seemed Kurosaki knew his own nature well enough to slip back into his hollow form. The visored eased visibly, as did the arrancar with him, which was curious to note. That meant this was common enough to become routine.
 
Kurosaki said, “Sekkiseki is important in the same way as the sands in Hueco Mundo and the blood of the Quincy. You figured that out on your own and constructed walls out of it. Help me fill in the blanks; I never lived here, I don’t know Soul Society like you do.”
 
The captain’s exchanged thoughtful looks, no longer as concerned with Kurosaki being a threat as they were with this new problem.
 
Kyoraku mused, “Ano, Kurosaki-san?” The visored turned towards him and he continued, “The Hogu did more than consume the kido that bound you. Perhaps it’s in bad taste, but could you tell me what else it did?”
 
Confusion reigned over Kurosaki’s expression. “You didn’t know?” The resounding silence that followed was answer enough. Kurosaki answered carefully. “That dagger was made from both das licht, and something I don’t understand. I would be tempted to call it sekkiseki, but I think it was made from the source.” His eyes widened in realization. “Is that the only relic you have?”
 
Ukitake spoke up. “If you had these relics in hand, could you tell what made them?”
 
Kurosaki looked down and away, thoughtful. “Maybe. Sekkiseki rejects the Gods, so it’s possible if something similar played a part in creating them, I would take notice.”
 
Soifon protested, “You would let this tyrant have access to our most prized possessions?!”
 
“

Soifon

,” warned Kyoraku.
 
“Soutaichou…” Toshiro stumbled over the word, and for a shinigami that had grown up with Yamamoto as a legend in the backdrop, Kyoraku could understand his unease with the entire situation. “I agree with Soifon-san.”
 
Kyoraku felt the urge to sigh, but he smothered it. This is never what he’d wanted. Becoming a taicho was regrettable, but soutaichou? Others were looking to him now, he couldn’t laze his days away. He addressed his captains,  ignoring Kurosaki for the moment. “Regardless of the circumstances that put us here, Soul Society is breaking. We’ve done what we can, but this goes beyond the scope of a shinigami. I didn’t call you all here to smile and nod and accept my word as law. If you have a better idea, now is the time to share it.”
 
More shared and guilty glances, but no suggestions were given. Kyoraku looked to Komamura. “Komamura-san, if you would send a Jigokuchō to retrieve the Shihoin Shield.”
 
The captain stiffened, and even with his face covered, he looked seconds away from arguing. “Yes, soutaichou.” The giant captain turned to the door, briefly stepping out to deliver the message.
 
The shield might still be in shreds after it had been used to destroy the Sokyoku, but there was enough of it remaining to serve their purpose. Of any item to let Kurosaki get his hands on, that was the safest.
 
Mayuri took the lull in conversation to ask a question. “If you truly are from the future, why not go even further back than you have?”
 
A stricken look crossed over Kurosaki’s face, but this wasn’t a new concept being presented to him, this was clearly something he’d considered. “No.” It was a resounding no without room for argument. “No, I won’t do that again, I don’t even think I can.”
 
“Why not? According to you, you made it back 11 years.” From Mayuri’s tone, he was fishing for confirmation for something, but what that something was, Kyoraku could only guess. Mayuri had been showing just a bit too much interest in the visored, enough that Kyoraku had begun to wonder just how many laws he’d broken without Soul Society’s knowledge. He’d pushed to continue hollow research, and in lieu of the threat Kurosaki imposed and pure desperation for an edge, Central granted it to him.
 
Kurosaki offered up more information than Kyoraku expected he would give. “It cost me every ounce of reiryoku I could spare and I overwrote my own soul in the process. If I try to go back further, in a best case scenario, I’ll erase myself from existence, or use up all my reiryoku and die.”
 
Mayuri hummed, the sound a bit too interested to be thoughtful. “That does limit its uses, doesn’t it? You couldn’t send back someone else? Say...a captain?”
 
Kurosaki looked at him like he was insane. “

Eleven

years used up

all

of my reiryoku. I know you can’t feel it, and not to brag, but that’s

a lot

. If I tried to go any further, it would require an immense amount of energy I can’t just take from Alteza.”
 
Mayuri tilted his head too far to the side to look comfortable and suggested. “Say you had more energy at your disposal, what then?”
 
Harribel took enough interest to chime in. “What would that solve? You send back a captain and everything will change in ways you can’t possible anticipate.”
 
Mayuri lifted his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “The implications are immense, the possibilities endless, can you blame me for indulging in some innocent curiosity.”
 
Grimmjow snorted at the word ‘innocent’ while Kurosaki shut Mayuri down. “I went back in time on

accident

and things are arguably just as bad, if not worse than they were before.”
 
Toshiro asked coldly, “Then why come back in the first place?”
 
For a split second, grief clouded Kurosaki’s expression, but it was quickly stamped out with fury. Tone clipped, Kurosaki responded, “If Aizen managed to kill Hinamori, are you telling me you wouldn’t have done everything in your power to see her again?”
 
Toshiro blanched and countered, “I wouldn’t let my grief come before-”
 
“What a load of shit,” Kurosaki interrupted. He didn’t let Toshiro argue, his patience just about halved by that one question. “Time travel is out, forget it.” He dared anyone in the room to challenge him on it, and no one took the chance.
 
Gin broke the silence and asked, “Wha’ happened to the Hogyoku?”
 
Kurosaki froze, watching Gin with a look of bewilderment. Something about that question caught Kurosaki off guard.
 
When Kurosaki didn’t immediately answer, Kyoraku added, “I’m curious as well.” There was a lot of confusion over what had happened with it and why Kurosaki had wanted it in the first place. He’d gone out of his way to steal it, but it didn’t seem to any in Soul Society that he’d actually used it.
 
The visored looked between them, then answered slowly. “I gave it to Alteza.”
 
Byakuya asked, “How did you do this?”
 
Kurosaki looked down and to the side, focusing on something only he was privy to. He finally chose to respond, returning his attention to Byakuya. “Just like I said. I gave it back.” He held out his fist and pantomimed dropping something. “I let it go, and the darkness devoured it. I don’t know where it is.”
 
Soifon blurted, “How can you

not

know?”
 
“You might find it hard to believe,” said Kurosaki, “but Alteza and I don’t

talk

. I feel intent and coercion most of all, trying to talk to it gets me nowhere.”
 
“Don’t talk...” grumbled Toshiro. He gestured wildly around them, drawing everyone’s attention back to the whispering voices. “Then what’s all this? You’re telling me you don’t know what it’s saying?”
 
Kurosaki frowned, stepping carefully around his words. “If I focus on it...that isn’t the same as talking.”
 
“What does it say?” asked Mayuri.
 
Kurosaki answered, “Gibberish, mostly.” He paused. “Stories, memories, things I don’t care to know.”
 
No one got a chance to pursue that topic before the Shihoin Shield was brought in by two members of the Onmitsukidō. They set it down just a few feet inside and hastily retreated. The ropes to contain the Sokyoku were nothing but fibers scattered over Sokyoku Hill, but the shield was still intact. In fact, he could still feel the residual traces of both his and Ukitake’s reiatsu. Kyoraku gestured towards it. “Be my guest.”
 
Kurosaki gave the room a cautious look, then left Harribel’s side to crouch before the shield. He seemed loathe to put distance between himself and the arrancar, but not enough to stomp on their pride and keep them close. He reached for the shield, resting his hand on the wood, and the instant he closed his eyes, la sangre was visible near his feet, a visible reminder he was still on his guard. With a room full of testy shinigami, Kyoraku truly hoped no one tried to take advantage.
 
A long moment passed, and Kurosaki jerked his hand back, his expression one of sudden realization and horror. Kyoraku noticed Grimmjow tensed in a mirror of Kurosaki’s reaction. That was strange, given the two reacted simultaneously and Grimmjow was across the room. It didn’t exactly inspire confidence, whatever Kurosaki felt, it startled the visored enough that for a split second, he’d dropped his guard.
 
Kyoraku asked, “What is it?”
 
Standing stiffly, Kurosaki looked ready to lie, thought better of it, then said, “I need to go.”
 
Kyoraku said, “Kurosaki, if you want our help, you can’t leave us out of the loop.”
 
“You sensed something you recognize.” Mayuri pressed.
 
Kurosaki ignored them, his eyes snapping to Harribel’s. Again, no words were exchanged, but Kurosaki seemed to get the answer he wanted. He looked back to Kyoraku and promised, “I’ll be back.” He let out a heavy breath, not bothering to hide his distress. He asked, “What time is it in the living world?” He caught himself and corrected quickly. “Ahhhh, Karakura.”
 
“Excuse me?” voiced Soifon.
 
Mayuri answered, “About twenty hundred hours.”
 
Harribel announced, “Then while you’re gone I can take that time to discuss what needs to be discussed with the soutaichou.”
 
That was surprising to everyone present. Kurosaki couldn’t argue without undermining her authority, but Kyoraku saw the urge in the unsettled scowl that settled on his face.
 
“Unless you can’t accommodate a single arrancar.” Harribel added.
 
Kyoraku decided he liked her. She was bold, and to willingly choose to remain in enemy territory alone spoke to a brand of courage Kyoraku respected. He said, “I think we can manage.”
 
Everyone in that room knew she had Kurosaki’s protection. Her decision to remain cost her nothing but perhaps her own peace of mind, no one here would be stupid enough to harm her, let alone capture or kill her.
 
Kurosaki gave her a look filled with too many emotions to nail down and repeated, “I’ll be back.” Darkness flashed through the space where Kurosaki and Grimmjow stood, and they were gone.
 
If their sudden disappearance stressed Harribel, she didn’t let it show.
 
Kyoraku turned to the captains present and said, “I’d like it if all captains waited for Kurosaki.” He couldn’t make them do anything, but he could strongly suggest it.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Pacing in the air above Karakura, Kurosaki wasn’t sure what to feel. There was no one to be angry at, it was what it was, and once against the futility of his actions was driven home like a stake in his heart.
 
“Talk to me, Kurosaki,” growled Grimmjow. “The fuck was that?”
 
Ichigo ignored him, thoughts turned inwards. ‘

You had the dagger

in your hand.

How did you not notice?’

“I was a little preoccupied,”

Zangetsu snarked.

“Don’t panic, Ichigo, this could mean any number of things.”

“KURO-SAKI.”
 
Ichigo turned and shouted back. “WHAT?!”
 
Grimmjow snarled, “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on? The clown was right, you recognized something.”
 
Kurosaki felt the pull on his reiryoku, clamping down on it, but Zangetsu pushed back, the implication clear; force me down and I’ll take it as a personal insult. He let his hollow manifest, Zangetsu standing equal distance between him and Grimmjow. Kurosaki turned his ire onto him instead. “Don’t.”
 
Zangetsu narrowed his eyes, bypassing his wielder entirely to address Grimmjow. “It’s the princess.”
 
Grimmjow’s brows furrowed in confusion, not in the least bit put off being caught in the middle, not anymore. “What do you- You mean the girl? What’sername...”
 
Ichigo swore and turned away, pacing with more determination. He supplied, “Orihime.”
 
Grimmjow stared, still just as confused. “Maybe I’m just a dumbass, but I don’t get it.”
 
Ichigo wasn’t going to explain, so Zangetsu took over. “Remember what the princess’s power felt like when she healed you? Feels weird, doesn’t it? Different.” Grimmjow seemed to be following, if the thoughtful scowl on his face was any indication. Zangetsu said, “Cats and dogs are pretty much the same right?”
 
Grimmjow looked taken aback by the sudden shift. “

What

?”
 
“King smells like King to you, right? It ain’t reiatsu, but ya know it, don’ cha’?”
 
Narrowing his eyes, Grimmjow considered that. “Yeah, and?”
 
Kurosaki glared, his displeasure radiating off of him in waves. Zangetsu continued, ignoring his discontent as easily “That old hunk a’ wood felt just like her. I guess the closest comparison would be if ya weren’t smelling King, but a shirt he wore. We sensed a part of a whole. Get it, koneko?”
 
It seemed to slowly sink in, enough that Grimmjow turned his questions onto Ichigo. “I guess I get it, but why is that a problem?”
 
Ichigo felt his guts twist in unease before he even spoke. “I didn’t know what I was feeling,

I didn’t know

. Orihime’s power is drenched in energy most people can’t feel. No offense, but you just aren’t strong enough.” He paused, wetting his lips, stalling. “I didn’t know it until I felt it again in the Shihoin Shield. It isn’t reiatsu, it’s something you can only get from the Gods. It isn’t Alteza, it isn’t die Konigin, it’s something else.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened, then he shifted to be skeptical, his tone deeply incredulous. “Wait...a

human girl

with the reiatsu of a basic bitch shinigami has the power of a God? You’re joking.”
 
Zangetsu snorted. “Did you forget King is only a few years older?”
 
“But how the fuck?”
 
Ichigo rolled his eyes. “What makes you think I know? I know what I felt.”
 
“Sooo,” Grimmjow started. “We’re here to...do what? Talk to her? Get her?”
 
Zangetsu answered, “King is pussying out.” He moved, suddenly before Grimmjow with a fistful of his shirt. A flicker of real fear shone in Grimmjow’s eyes, but he squashed it before it could take root. “Don’t let him. He would die for any of you if he thought it would fucking help.”
 
“Zangetsu!” warned Ichigo.
 
“Am I fucking wrong?” Zangetsu called back. He pulled Grimmjow a hair closer and said, “Don’t let him try to protect her.”
 
Ichigo and Zangetsu both knew Ichigo had had enough of him, and his hollow was dragged back into his soul without protest.
 
Grimmjow stared into empty space for a second, then looked back at Ichigo. “You would let this slide? For what, her peace of mind?”
 “For her life!” Ichigo gestured down at Karakura in a sweeping motion. “She’s in school, she has friends, she’s got her whole life ahead of her.” Ichigo indicated all of himself with both hands. “She doesn’t deserve this.” 
“You don’t know it’ll go that far,” Grimmjow protested.
 
“Don’t pretend you don’t know how this will go. What have the Gods touched that hasn’t gone to

shit

.” Grimmjow stared back at him, his jaw tightening. “That’s what I thought.”
 
“She’s already a part of this,” said Grimmjow. “What are you buying? Time?”
 
Ichigo knew it was already done, there was almost no argument to be made; Grimmjow and Zangetsu were right. “I can’t do it.”
 
“I get it, Kurosaki, I do.”
 
Ichigo grit his teeth, turning into the wind when his hair was pulled into his face. That meant he had to face Grimmjow fully, and from the look on his face, it was clear that Grimmjow did get it.
 
Grimmjow kept going. “I’ve seen enough of her to know what she’s about. Zangetsu doesn’t call her princess for nothing, does he?” His tone shifted, almost disgusted as he drawled, “She’s a sweet girl with a bleeding heart and an innocent smile. Didn’t last in the future, did it?”
 
Ichigo glared at him, but he had nothing to say, Grimmjow was right. Somewhere along the way, Grimmjow had caught up, he’d become easier and easier to read, even without the arrancar’s connection to his heart.
 
“Yeah, I fuckin’ get it,” Grimmjow said, confident in his own words. “You don’t want to be like

him

, you don’t want to be the one to drag her down to your level. But yer right, the Gods bring nothing but trouble. You going to let her face it, or be trampled by it like the delicate little flower she is.”
 
Ichigo tensed, watching Grimmjow in silent anger. He hated that he was right, there was no argument to be made. Keeping this from Orihime when she was one of their last and only real clues was selfish.

Selfish, selfish, selfish

.
 
Settling into a crouch, Ichigo let out a steadying breath. “Give me a minute.” He wasn’t eager about throwing himself unwanted into Orihime’s life, nor was he eager to face his unfiltered pain.
 
The sky was a deepening indigo, streetlights already illuminating emptied streets. He didn’t even know what day it was. Had Orihime gone to school? Had she gone to leave bread with Chad and Ishida? Maybe she was with Tatsuki. He had no idea, and regardless of what she was doing, giving her five more minutes of normalcy probably didn’t matter in the end; he was still the one who was going to ruin her life.
 
Falling out of his hollow form, a chilly coastal wind was suddenly noticeable on the back of his neck, his wrists. He focused on that feeling, letting the breeze allay his fears. He straightened with a slow exhale, his nerves as settled as they could ever be, given the circumstances. “Okay, let’s go.”

--- xxx ---
 
To Kurosaki’s dismay, Orihime was at Ishida’s house. He was glad they were close, but he didn’t like the implications. Explaining this to Orihime might actually be easy, but with Ishida around, it threw a wrench into his plans.
 
He couldn’t do this as a hollow, not with the way she had reacted in the past and the future. He scared her, and she didn’t know him well enough not to be.
 
He didn’t need to knock, Grimmjow couldn’t completely stamp out his reiatsu, and his friends were overly sensitive to hollow reiatsu, Orihime got the door before Ishida could stop her. She looked somewhat confused to see them, possibly even afraid. He was the harbinger of bad news, he couldn’t blame her. “Kurosaki-kun? You’re here to see Ishida?”
 
Ichigo’s brows fell, his heart stinging at the knowledge that in this timeline, Orihime really was a stranger. “It wouldn’t hurt, but I actually came here to see

you

.”
 
Ishida appeared beside her in the doorway, bracing himself on the threshold with a grip tight enough to prove his strength wasn’t nearly as sapped as before. “Leave, Kurosaki.”
 
Ichigo sighed, looking out at the empty street behind him, then back. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” He didn’t mean to be so ominous, but if they both refused, he really would be the bad guy. “Please, I just want to talk.”
 
“

Leave

,” insisted Ishida. There was anger and enough fear in his eyes to make Ichigo start to second guess himself.
 
“Kurosaki,” warned Grimmjow.
 
Ishida pulled Orihime back into the house, shutting the door, but in a single step of shunpo, Ichigo caught it, holding it open with a wince. The fear in Ishida doubled, moving to put himself between Orihime and Ichigo. This wasn’t what he wanted. “Please, Ishida, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
 
“It’s not hard,” growled Ishida. He pushed the door, knowing how futile that would be, but it reinforced his point. “You can

get out

.” He kept his voice lowered to an aggressive hiss, not wanting any nosy neighbors involved anymore than Ichigo did. Having to explain why he was shouting at thin air might be difficult.
 
Orihime spoke up from over Ishida’s shoulder. “Ano...please don’t fight.

Ishida

.” She said his name in a firm plea, likely one carried over from many past conversations.
 
Ichigo didn’t let him respond, practically begging. “

Please

, Ishida.”
 
Grimmjow had wandered a few steps closer, addressing Ishida. “He doesn’t

want

to be here any more than you want him here.”
 
“That doesn’t change the fact that

I

want you to

leave

,” Ishida insisted.
 
Ichigo didn’t think he was going to change his mind. “What would help? Do you want me to leave my Zanpakuto elsewhere, do you want me to sit in the floor? Help me out here, Ishida, this isn’t a conversation I can avoid.”
 
Orihime spoke up again, standing more to Ishida’s side than behind him. “I know Kurosaki-kun won’t hurt us. You saved Ishida’s life.” She said it like an indisputable fact, and it only made Ichigo feel guilty.
 
He’d already hurt Ishida, and he’d unintentionally estranged himself from the teen in more ways than one, he didn’t blame him for thinking the opposite.
 
Ishida looked down at where Kurosaki’s foot was wedged in front of the door, then stepped back from the door with a scoff. “It isn’t like I can stop you.”
 
“Don’t be so dramatic,” growled Grimmjow.
 
Ishida made an irritated sound and stepped back from the door, sarcasm thick in his voice. “Fine, by all means make yourself at home.”
 
Ichigo hesitated, but Grimmjow’s hand on his shoulder pushed him over the threshold into Ishida’s house. The physical push helped when he wanted nothing more than to leave. He took a couple more steps inside without prompting, leaving Grimmjow enough room to shut the door behind them.
 
There was a lamp on in the corner, but the house was dark, quiet. Ichigo didn’t think he’d ever been to Ishida’s house before, it felt very...empty.
 
Instead of using das licht and prying, Ichigo asked Ishida. “How do you feel?”
 
Ishida crossed his arms, lifting his shoulders in a careless shrug. “Better.”
 
And that was all he was going to get. Fine, at least he got a response.
 
Grimmjow pressured him. “Stop stalling.”
 
Ichigo ran his hand through his hair and said, “Before I do anything, just in case I’m wrong...I want you to use Shun Shun Rikka on me.”
 
A frown settled on Orihime’s face along with a perplexed furrowing of her brow. “Are you hurt? I’m not sure I understand.”
 
“I want you to try to reject Alteza.”
 
She paled, fisting the edge of her skirt in her hands. “Kurosaki-kun...if I do that, I could really hurt you, I don’t think-”
 
“It’s fine,” said Ichigo. “The alternative means potentially hurting you, and I’m not going to do that.” He gave her a small, somewhat awkward smile. “I can handle a little pain.”
 
Orihime slowly lifted her hand to her hair clip, uncertain. She summoned Sōten Kisshun, the oval of light hovering just over Ichigo. This made him nervous, but he wasn’t going to tell Inoue that.
 
All of his fears were confirmed in a single instant. She concentrated and he felt her ability cut through his soul like a hot knife in butter.
 
He grit his teeth, feeling her ability indiscriminately shred through Alteza and die Konigin alike, as if the bond with his soul was held together with nothing but stitches. The pain was both more and and less of what he’d expected, but he couldn’t deny that it

hurt

. He fell to a knee, gasping for breath, and Inoue stopped immediately.
 
His soul was pulling itself back together like he’d been cleaved in half. It had only been a few seconds, but it was long enough for Ichigo to realize if she’d wanted to, she probably could have killed him.
 
Looking up, Ichigo could see that Orihime had reached for him, only to be stopped short with Grimmjow’s hand on her wrist. He was grateful for that, Grimmjow knew better than anyone not to touch him if he was in that much pain. In hindsight, Ichigo realized he probably should have warned her first.
 
Instead of trying to get up, Ichigo sat back, his back connecting solidly with the wall. The three of them were arguing, but it was hard to focus when Alteza and die Konigin were desperately retaking his soul, the noise more than double what he was used to.
 
He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he felt Grimmjow’s presence only inches from his face. Ichigo looked at him, struggling to understand what he was saying, so he read his lips instead. He made out something like, ‘Are you okay?’ Ichigo was still breathless. “Fuckers haaated that. I’ll live.” His vision still swam, so he closed his eyes, the back of his head resting against the wall. “Gimme a minute.” Or ten.

“That was stupid, King.”

‘I’ll live,’

he reiterated.

“Ya don’t shoot yourself in the head just to prove you’ve got instant regeneration.”

Zangetsu was making some sense, but putting himself at risk answered a lot of questions. How did she get the power of a God, if the shinigami’s God was missing? Why was a human girl connected to the shinigami at all?
 
He finally caught his breath, the agony inside him slowly curbed as the Gods settled back into his soul. He opened his eyes, noting that Grimmjow was almost touching him he was hovering so closely. He couldn’t read Ishida’s expression, but he seemed uncomfortable with the fact that Grimmjow felt the need to protect Ichigo, like he expected the Quincy to kick him when he was down.
 
Orihime asked timidly. “Kurosaki-kun...what happened?”
 
“You did it,” said Ichigo, tone bitter with disbelief. “You rejected the Gods.” He let his head fall back again, sighed, then leaned forward to push himself up. Grimmjow offered him a hand, letting his fraccion pull him to his feet. “Turns out you can’t isolate them from my soul enough for me to come out on the other side alive if you actually went through with it.”
 
Which would have taken more than a few seconds, it would have been an agonizing hour, and if Orihime were an enemy, she never would have made it through those three seconds alive.
 
Ishida caught on faster than Orihime, or she was too stricken by what she’d done to consider it. The Quincy took a step forward to stand beside her and said, “Inoue did something she shouldn’t be able to do. How? If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t be here.”
 
Ichigo stared at him, then shifted his gaze to Orihime, trying to decide how to break it to her. “I’m sure you’re aware at this point that there exist two Gods. One for the living world, die Konigin, and one for the dead, Alteza. That leaves the inbetween, the shinigami. You may not be aware of it, but when I fought Adaliz, if we used the power of the Gods to buff our attacks, we cut through each other like rice paper. That Sōten Kisshun could affect the Gods means that some part of your ability is connected to the Gods.”
 
Inoue stared at him with the same heartbreaking look of distress that she’d once leveled at him in a future that never was. Ishida put himself between them again. “You have to be wrong.”
 
“Inoue...I don’t know how, but you’re showing the signs of a host.”
 
“Fuck that!” shouted Ishida.
 
Grimmjow growled, “You can’t deny reality, glasses.”
 
Ichigo said, “We don’t even know the name of the God that’s missing, Inoue, you’re the only clue we have.”
 
Inoue took a step back into Ishida, a startled gasp slipping past her lips, and very deliberately kept still. “I don’t….I’m not really sure what that means, but I can help somehow...right?”
 
“I’ll admit,” said Ichigo. “I’m not the best to approach this.” Of anyone, he was the one that was biased. He hadn’t realized until now, but Orihime’s power hadn’t touched him in this timeline. In fact, she hadn’t physically come into contact with him at all, it was no wonder he hadn’t noticed. “Can I see your hairclips.” He added, “Please.”
 
She lifted a hand to her chest, still uncertain. “Why?”
 
Ichigo gave her a reassuring smile, or at least, he tried to. “Rather than put either of us through something like that again, I just need to touch something dense in your reiatsu.”
 
After a moment of uncertainty, she removed one and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed, and she jerked her hand back, her cheeks reddening in shame at her reaction. Ichigo wasn’t sure if it was fear or remnants of her crush, but he didn’t want to look too deeply into it. He took her hair clip, closing his fist around it and focused.
 
Her reiatsu was present, but Alteza and die Konigin reacted badly to the actual make of the hair clip. At its core, it reminded him of the Gods; it was crafted from something that should not exist.
 
Ichigo opened his eyes, uncurling his fingers. It looked like a basic metal hair clip, but his senses told him otherwise. He frowned at Inoue, asking, “Where did you get these?”
 
“My brother gave them to me...why?”
 
Her brother? He became a hollow and he’d been killed

by Ichigo himself

. Any hope for figuring out the origin of the hairclips might be lost.
 
Grimmjow looked between them, clearly confused. “Why don’t you ask him?”
 
Orihime tensed, and Ichigo saved her from having to respond. “He’s dead.”
 
“Oh.”
 
Yeah,

oh

. Ichigo handed her hair clip back, careful not to touch her this time, and asked, “Come with me to see Kisuke?” Gingerly, she took it, still uncertain. “He’s been looking into this more than anyone. If anyone would know anything, it’s him.”
 
Ishida said, “You can’t mean

now

?”
 
“I do,” said Ichigo. “ I’m not going to force you, but I won’t lie and say sooner isn’t better.”
 
Distress clouding her expression, she asked, “How bad is it? Something must be wrong, you really don’t want to be here at all.” Inoue wasn’t normally so perceptive, but sometimes she saw straight through him. She read his answer on his face and nodded, coming to a decision. “Okay, let’s go see Kisuke.” She turned to the front door, not allowing herself time to change her mind. They all watched her stiffly move past them to sit and pull on her shoes.
 
Ishida protested her choice. “You can’t be serious?”
 
“If something’s wrong, I want to help,” she repeated. Her tone was forcefully light, but Ichigo noticed the lack of grace behind her actions. Her hands were shaking; she was scared, but she was acting on her own anyway.
 
Ishida shot Ichigo a hostile look, then crouched beside Inoue, whispering something to her. Ichigo didn’t try to listen in, but he saw her shake her head. He did his best to ignore them, turning to Grimmjow instead.  
 
The arrancar was watching him too closely, and now that Ichigo really looked, there was fear present in the arrancar as well. Not fear

of

him, no, fear

for

him.
 
“

Three seconds was all it took to completely immobilize you, and you’re still in pain. I am not surprised he’s afraid

.”
 
‘

He knew this would happen.’

“It shakes people to see that the strong are mortal too.”

Ichigo thought he could understand that. If at all possible, this was staying between as few people as he could manage. It was bad enough that the shinigami knew sekkiseki was such a weakness to him.
 
Ichigo took a step, struggling to keep steady, and caught himself on the wall. That hit him harder than he wanted to admit, but despite the risk, there was no arguing with the results.
 
He considered his options, noting the look of concern on both Inoue and Grimmjow’s faces. He could pride himself on how well he could take a beating and hide pain, but at a certain point, it was too much to conceal. He told Inoue. “If you’re serious, I’ll see you there.”
 
He grabbed a fistful of Grimmjow’s jacket, pulling them both through la sangre to the outside of Kisuke’s house. Without that contact, he wasn’t sure he could have managed it, his grip on Altea was still slippery at best, and it aggravated his already wounded soul. Grimmjow got a handful of his kosode before he could fall, giving him a desperately needed moment to get his feet under him and keep them there. It was effort and a half to use la sangre when Alteza was still retaking his soul, but his pride wouldn’t stand for letting anyone help him more than a few feet.
 
Grimmjow ignored that momentary weakness and growled, “Why give her an out?”
 
“She’ll be here,” Ichigo insisted. Maybe this wasn’t mercy and he was just a manipulative bastard, but sometimes even the illusion of choice helped. He would know. He added, “Besides, there’s no telling how her soul would react to something like la sangre, I wasn’t about to bring her with me, and a child could outpace me right now.”
 
“Solid points,” muttered Grimmjow. He slowly let Ichigo go, still uncertain if he could hold his own weight.
 
Kisuke slid the door back, leaning on the threshold. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Kurosaki-san?” The shinigami was creepily observant, all it took was one look for the gears to start turning, Ichigo saw it in his eyes.
 
Ichigo took a small step away from Grimmjow, unsteady, but determined. “It’s Inoue.” Kisuke tilted his head, and he continued, “I never noticed because I never had any contact with her. She has all the signs of being a host, but…”
 
“She’s not a God,” finished Kisuke. “I see.” He looked down, thoughtful, then spun his cane, crossing over to him with concealed caution. He leaned in, studying him and mused, “You look minutes away from soul suicide.”
 
Ichigo let out a breathless laugh. “Close enough.”
 
“ What happened?” Kisuke asked.
 
“Dumbass had the princess try to reject Alteza,” said Grimmjow.
 
Kisuke’s eyes widened. “Ah...that explains that.” He asked curiously, “How did it go?”
 
“How do you think it went?” groused Ichigo. “She barely had to try, she tore through Alteza like it was wet paper.”
 
“I take it this had a negative effect on you as well,” said Kisuke.
 
“No shit,” said Grimmjow.
 
“Where is she now?” Kisuke asked.
 
“She’ll be here,” said Ichigo. He could still sense them across town, but he had faith she would be there, it’s just who she was.
 
Kisuke searched his pockets, came up empty, then turned for the shop. “Can you walk, or is that a bluff?” He called back.
 
Grimmjow gave the visored a look and Ichigo huffed, “A bluff.”
 
Grabbing his arm, Grimmjow half draped him over his shoulder to help him inside and muttered, “I should just leave you here, you masochistic shithead.”
 
Now that he had the support, it was clear how necessary it was. Ichigo snorted, but took the concern for what it was. “I wanted proof, I got it.”
 
Kisuke rummaged for something, distractedly chiding him. “Next time, Kurosaki-san, perhaps employ a touch more caution.”
 
Grimmjow dropped him against the wall without decorum, ignoring Ichigo’s complaints, and looked to Kisuke. “The fuck are you looking for?”
 
Kisuke let out a sound of revelation and turned to face them. “This!” He held up a small black candy, something that looked suspiciously like a mod soul.
 
“What is that?” asked Ichigo.
 
Kisuke came up to him, crouching before him to give him a closer look. “Given your peculiar predicament, I’ve been working on a solution.”
 
Grimmjow leaned in, frowning at it. “Candy?”
 
“A solution to what?” asked Ichigo.
 
“The imbalance in your soul. Orihime-san tore a rift in your soul.” Kisuke answered. He held up the black candy. “Compressed souls and reishi will mend that rift faster.”
 
Ichigo was skeptical of anything Kisuke had never tried before, the man was a risk taker. “That seems too simple,”
 
“So it is! It’s a bit more complicated than all that, but do you care enough for me to explain?”
 
Ichigo scowled, giving the candy a skeptical glare. “I’m not eating that.”
 
“If Kurosaki-san can afford to sit around, then I guess you really don’t need it.” He closed the candy up in his fist, holding it out of reach.
 
Ichigo grit his teeth, not intending to take the bait at first, but from Kisuke’s tone, he wasn’t going to stop harping about it, and the man was right. He snapped, “Fine, hand it over.”
 
Kisuke tossed it the short distance and Ichigo caught it, swallowing it before he could second guess himself.
 
For a split second there was nothing, then his soul lit up in agony, a mirror of what he’d felt only moments earlier. He doubled over in pain, sweat dripping to the wooden floor. His vision blurred and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear Grimmjow voicing his concerns to Kisuke in a flurry of swearing and what had to be bodily violence.
 
The sudden agony Ichigo felt in his soul was suddenly gone, his breath coming back to him in pants. He actually felt...pretty good, by comparison.
 
Ichigo tuned back into Grimmjow’s voice, it wasn’t like it was easy to ignore. “How the fuck is that

helping

?!” He let out a steadying breath, looking up at them both. Grimmjow had Kisuke by a fistful of fabric, but Kisuke looked far from concerned, hell, he looked ecstatic.
 
Ichigo pushed himself to his feet. “I second that? How?”
 
Grimmjow abruptly dropped Kisuke, interest lost, staring at Ichigo with considerable skepticism. “You’re okay?”
 
“I feel...pretty good,” said Ichigo.
 
Kisuke didn’t respond, letting him come to his own conclusions. Ichigo looked down at his hand, at the lines of reishi that flowed through his veins, and tried to pinpoint exactly what it was he was feeling. It was a jolt of power he remembered well. Even if it wasn’t his strong suit, he had a moment of clarity. “You fed Alteza and die Konigin.”
 
Kisuke smiled broadly, genuinely pleased with himself. “Bingo! Alteza craves the dead and die Konigin craves reishi, it wasn’t so difficult to make a condensed version.” He lifted a splayed hand, two more of the “candies” appearing between his middle, forefinger, and ring finger. “I only managed to make three, including the one you tested.”
 
Kisuke tossed the candies at Ichigo and he caught them, looking down at the black beads in his palm with a frown. Kisule said, “Do try not to lose them, they’re a hassle to make.”
 
Ichigo closed his fist around them and asked, “Why bother?”
 
Kisuke spoke breezily. “I can think of three occasions where they would have come in handy. You have high speed regeneration, but it’s limited to your hollow form, and even more limited in Vollstandig. Healing the core of a soul isn’t easy; might as well let the Gods do the heavy lifting.”
 
Ichigo considered that, wondering if the outcome would have been any different if this existed when he’d become die Konigin’s host. Maybe a bit, but Kisuke had casually offered him something that must have taken plenty of time and energy to figure out. He pocketed the candies and said, “Thanks, Kisuke.”
 
“Well, it seemed as good a time as any to test them. I take it the pain was from the rapid mending of your soul, and not the overload of reishi and souls itself?”
 
“I think so,” said Ichigo. It happened fast enough for him to be uncertain, but Kisuke’s guess seemed sound.
 
Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, asking, “Where did you get a buncha souls?”
 
Kisuke flipped open his fan, hiding a smirk. “Hollows, Grimmjow-san. Ururu and Ginta are skilled enough,” Kisuke shot Ichigo a look, gauging his reaction, “even without your sister’s help.”
 
That wasn’t a surprise. Ichigo knew she was taking down hollows; it was a distant brand of anxiety for her wellbeing that kept reminding him she was throwing herself into danger. That her efforts, in the end, helped him, was a different dynamic than he was used to. He wondered if she knew. If she did, he could only imagine it would be a source of pride.
 
He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face, and changed the subject. “So can you tell me how Orihime ended up with

hair clips

infused with the power of a

God

?”
 
Kisuke frowned. “Why do you think I would know?”
 
Raising his brows, Ichigo hinted at the obvious. “Isn’t it forbidden for shinigami to “mingle” with the living?”
 
Kisuke frowned. “Well...Kurosaki-san exists, so clearly that rule is only enforced if Soul Society knows about it.”
 
Grimmjow looked between them. “Wait, what? The girl is a shinigami? Isn’t she’s alive?” He worded it like a question now that his reality was challenged.
 
Ichigo sighed. “I was alive once too. Her potential is there, and it was drawn out by those hair clips.”
 
Kisuke asked, “They were made by a God?”
 
“By a host, at least,” Ichigo said. “It reminds me of the Hogu, in a way.”
 
Grimmjow said, “I don’t see

you

making stuff.”
 
“Las Noches counts,” Ichigo answered flatly, then expanded on that. “I’m not that creative, and I don’t see a reason to.”
 
Grimmjow ignored that and asked, “Could ya make a weapon?”
 
Ichigo frowned. Grimmjow sounded a little too excited. “Do I

look

like a blacksmith?”
 
Kisuke steered the conversation back. “Do you know where she got the hair clips?”
 
Ichigo ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Her brother.” Kisuke already knew he was dead, he’d been keeping tabs on him since he stumbled into his shinigami powers. “Assuming he didn’t make them, that leaves her parents. She doesn’t talk about them much, but I think her father is a drunk and her mother was a prostitute.”
 
Kisuke made a thoughtful sound bordering on disappointment. “I see.” This late in the game, finding Inoue’s real father was nothing but a fantasy. Kisuke was good, but finding a shinigami that didn’t want to be found was nearly impossible. If they were even alive to begin with.
 
Leaning up against the wall, Kisuke tapped his fan on his shoulder, thoughtful. That was fine with Ichigo, he let him think, blinking back an encroaching headache. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the rush that came from having das licht thrumming in his veins.
 
Grimmjow took advantage of the silence to ask, “Was it really okay to leave Harribel?”
 
Ichigo answered, “I know, I don’t trust them either, but I know Kyoraku enough to know he’ll avoid bloodshed when he can, and I don’t think he’s willing to tempt fate.” It would be a stupid move to try to capture her, he hadn’t removed any of the sands from Seireitei, though he was planning on it. Killing her would be even stupider, so at least he could try to relax on that front.
 
He could sense Inoue was still inches away from Ishida, and nearly to Kisuke’s, so Ishida must have finally failed in convincing her to keep away.
 
Once bitten, twice shy, didn’t seem to apply to the Gods. Where Orihime was concerned, he felt nothing but an eagerness to crush her. No, eager didn’t come close to describing it...the Gods were simply acting in their respective nature. If he wasn’t the only one around who could sense the Gods, he might have put distance between them. A lot of distance.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Inoue Orihime
 
Ishida trailed behind Orihime; close enough to offer support, but far enough to make it clear he wanted to turn back. They walked in silence, because each had said their part, and neither was happy about it. She held her hairclips in her hand, her questions stinging in her chest as much as the metal prongs against her palm.
 
Inoue hadn’t given her parents a second thought, not when she was small, and not when she was old enough to understand. Her brother had been enough.
 
She knew her and her brother looked different, people made sure

she knew

she looked different. She had grown to pride herself on the color of her hair, she’d stopped wondering why.

Now

, she wondered.
 
Approaching Kisuke’s shop, her steps faltered, her instincts warning of a danger she couldn’t see. She willed herself to move. Whispers...distant screams...things she told no one about. Not even Tatsuki, or Ishida.
 
She was scared of Kurosaki, and that feeling had quickly deepened into paranoia when his fingers brushed against hers. Sudden voices. Quiet, but

close

, whispered against the back of her mind. They clouded around Kurosaki like fog, and she couldn’t be sure if the voices were guiding her closer to him, or trying to scare her away.
 
She turned the corner, approaching the shop, and froze when she finally caught Kurosaki’s eyes. Her breath caught, her instincts urging her to run. Normally soft, brown eyes burned amber, his pupils blown black in predatorial interest.
 
That wasn’t the Kurosaki she knew, that was something

else

.
 
Her grip tightened on her hairclips, heart pounding in her chest. She opened her mouth, sucking in a sharp breath of cool night air, and before she could speak, Grimmjow cut off her line of sight, purposefully stepping between them.
 
She blinked at the back of his head, that murderous feeling cut short, and Kisuke appeared to her left. She let out a squeak of surprise, backing straight into Ishida. He caught her shoulders before her head could connect with his nose, as Kisuke apologized, “Maaaa, I didn’t mean to startle you, Orihime-san.”
 
Ishida took a step to stand between her and Kurosaki and asked, “What was that?”
 
“You mean Kurosaki-san? It seems the Gods are a good deal more interested in Orihime-san than we expected.”
 
“It felt an awful lot like he wanted to kill her,” hissed Ishida.
 
“And that’s why Grimmjow-san intervened,” explained Kisuke. He didn’t elaborate, and while she still couldn’t see Ichigo, her instincts told her the situation hadn’t changed.
 
Kisuke looked to Orihime and asked, “You must have noticed something?”
 
She had, and it was too late to lie. She still couldn’t see Kurosaki, but she still heard those voices, clinging, tarlike to her senses. “A bit ago, minutes ago, he touched my hand. And I…” she paused, unsure how to voice her concerns. “The voices noticed

me

...I think.”
 
“Voices?” said Ishida. She could feel his eyes on her, sense his concern, and she pretended not to notice. Disagreement or not, he reached for her hand, their fingers lacing together, her palm damp with fear against his.
 
She squeezed his hand, grateful for the support, and tried to explain. “I’ve been hearing them for awhile. Usually just when I was training with Shinji and the others. At first, I thought I was imagining it.”
 
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ishida’s anger had evaporated, leaving behind confusion and self-doubt.
 
Inoue wished he would shout, accuse her, but he just sounded heartbroken. A small, petty side of her reveled in it. He kept secrets from her, didn’t she deserve to do the same? But that wasn’t fair, and as soon as she thought it, she was ashamed of it.
 
Her grip on his hand tightened, her voice soft. “I thought you would try to talk me out of training again.” Maybe that was a really stupid decision, but she couldn’t help that urge to be selfish. She didn’t want to be powerless anymore, she didn’t want to be protected, or have people look at her like a liability.
 
Kisuke glanced towards Grimmjow, then turned back to her, his front of calm unraveling. “Orihime-san, I don’t mean to scare you, but I think we’re running out of time.”
 
“What does

that

mean?” Ishida demanded. The fear in his voice was buried, but she knew him, she could hear it.
 
“It means I miscalculated,” said Kisuke. “We don’t have time to test my theory anymore. The Gods see you as a threat because

you are

a threat.” Inoue’s eyes slipped past him to Kurosaki. Grimmjow had him up against a wall, and Kurosaki

let

him do it, his unblinking attention still on Inoue. Kisuke stepped between them, blocking her view. “Orihime-san, you

are

a host, you have just as much power as Kurosaki.”
 
That couldn’t be right. She swallowed and asked, “What do I do?”
 
“Your power isn’t limited to those hairclips. Use it.” There was an urgency in his tone she couldn’t recall ever hearing before. It only made the situation feel real. She could feel the hungry want of the voices in her mind; she was scared.

What do I do? Why me?

“How?” she asked.
 
Suddenly she wasn’t looking at Kisuke, she was staring into Kurosaki’s eyes. No, those weren't Kurosaki’s eyes; they were black, there was nothing there but pinpricks of light. Too close. She gasped, and then his hand was around her throat, tightening, crushing.
 
Those voices crawled over her skin, louder, louder,

louder

. She wanted them to stop.

Stop

. She couldn’t breathe.
 
Her hand tightened around her hair clips, her free hand reflexively trying to lift her weight off of her neck by his wrist. It hurt. The dark touched her soul and it ached. She didn’t want to hurt Kurosaki again, she just couldn’t do it. Even if it would save her. Not again.
 
She saw light in the dark of his eyes. It was so slight, it was like staring at a distant sun in the void of space.
 
Stop.
 
STOP
.

‘I reject…’

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
Whatever it was Alteza had done to remove him from its path, he was down for the count. He could barely move, it felt like his very soul was being torn apart. If this is what Kurosaki felt, he could see now why standing hadn’t been a priority.
 
They should have known better. Alteza protected its precious host, and Kurosaki had just revealed to it a major threat.
 
He blinked blearily at Kurosaki’s back, noticing the princess’s feet were no longer on the ground. Shit. She couldn’t die, he could already feel Kurosaki’s heart breaking.
 
He tried to get up, but he just couldn’t move. What could he do anyways? He’d already tried, and he’d failed. With Ishida’s reaction, the kid hadn’t recovered his power yet, and Kisuke wasn’t even trying to intervene. Too smart for his own good, the shinigami knew there was nothing to be done.
 
And then everything changed.
 
Grimmjow blinked, and it was day.
 
The sudden brightness made him squeeze his eyes shut in pain. That’s didn’t make sense, he wasn’t in agony anymore. But why?
 
He blinked against the glare, turning his head away. He raised his arm to block the sun, casting his senses out in paranoia when he heard raised voices. His hand shot towards Pantera, tightening around the hilt as he staggering to his feet.
 
Grimmjow sensed reiatsu, one foreign, and one belonging to Kurosaki. His vision was shot, so used to darkness, but he could make out Kurosaki’s silhouette, crouched with his hand on his sword. He called out. “Kurosaki!”
 
“Conscious,” was his only reply. Kurosaki sounded...pained, distracted, but he was present. He couldn’t ask for more.
 
That unfamiliar but powerful reiatsu began to close in. Grimmjow skipped the space between Kurosaki and himself with sonido, keeping his back to Kurosaki. “Can you move?” No response, but his vision was becoming clearer by the second. “

Kurosaki

.”
 
Forced into an answer, Kurosaki growled, “Yes.”
 
Grimmjow interpreted that to mean ‘maybe.’ He saw people backing away, scared of their sudden intrusion. The pair only had seconds before that unfamiliar shinigami was on top of them. “What the fuck happened? Where did you send us?”
 
“I didn’t do anything,” Kurosaki confessed.
 
That sent an uneasy flutter through his guts. Instead of focusing on why they were where they ended up, he focused the where. He took in their new surroundings now that he could see; Dirt road, wooden shacks and thatch roofs, dense reishi...Grimmjow asked, “Are we in Soul Society?”
 
The visored grappled with exhaustion, but managed to stand long enough to back straight into Grimmjow’s back. He stayed there, breathing sharp and fast. Ichigo answered, “Definitely.”
 
Grimmjow wanted to ask how, but they had more pressing matters.
 
Kurosaki announced, “The shinigami approaching us, I don’t recognize them.”
 
“Congratulations,” growled Grimmjow.
 
“You don’t understand,” Kurosaki hissed, “I know every shinigami above a captain. This guy is

way

above that, and I don’t know him.”
 
That was still sinking in when their shinigami friend showed up. He blurred out of sonido, hand resting on a sword strapped to his hip, a telltale white haori fluttering to a stop near his ankles. His voice was light, but tinged in attitude. “I don’t think we’ve ever met, how did you get here?”
 
Kurosaki’s grip tightened on Zangetsu, letting out a bark of breathy laughter. “How? If I knew, I’d probably tell you.”
 
The shinigami looked somewhat young; fair-skinned for the country, short, unruly red hair reminding him of Kurosaki. The hair was where the similarities stopped. While Kurosaki was all sharp angles and hard lines, this shinigami was all rounded edges and delicate curves.

The stranger shrugged, and drew his sword with casual nonchalance. “Mighty fine sword for a weakling. Where’d you get it?”
 
Grimmjow almost laughed. Even exhausted, Kurosaki could wipe the floor with this shinigami.
 
The visored ignored the jab and asked, “What district are we in?”
 
“District? You’re in Kiso. What happened?” he smirked and drawled, “Did you get so drunk you forgot you won a Zanpakuto right off a shinigami?”
 
Kurosaki stiffened, taking a swift step back. Grimmjow swayed on his feet when Kurosaki ran into him. The visored was genuinely scared, but why was still a mystery.
 
Kurosaki asked, “What’s your name?”
 
The shinigami’s smile broadened. “I don’t hand out my name to every wannabe swordsman in the streets. Maybe I’ll tell your hollow friend once I kill you.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes shot to Kurosaki. The visored’s brows were drawn in fear and thought. “I don’t know you,” said Kurosaki.
 
“Enough talk,” said the stranger.
 
He disappeared, Grimmjow’s eyes widening in shock at the unexpected speed. He couldn’t track him at all.
 
The shinigami’s sword was stopped just short of Kurosaki’s neck by the back of his wrist. Grimmjow flinched back at the sudden proximity, his depleted reiatsu flaring in reflexive defense.
 
“I still have questions,” Kurosaki said softly. His voice betrayed how frustrated he was, he wasn’t in a mood to play games.
 
The shinigami whistled. “A block like that deserves one answer.” He drew his sword back from his neck and spoke his name with some degree of grandeur. “Reizei Nakayama.”
 
A pause, then Kurosaki said, “Never heard of you.”
 
“Seriously?” He sounded surprised, but clearly unconcerned with whether or not Kurosaki was actually a threat.
 
Kurosaki ignored his shock and asked, “Are you a member of the Gotei 13?”
 
The smile returned, stretching languidly across his face. “Gotei? Never heard of them”
 
Kurosaki stiffened, and Grimmjow felt a flash of fear in the visored’s heart. Kurosaki demanded, “I want to speak to Yamamoto.”
 
Reizei shifted into a ready stance, ultimately ignoring Grimmjow. “Uh huh,

sure

. Beat me, gaki, and maybe

we’ll

talk.”
 
That implied Yamamoto was alive, but that was impossible; Grimmjow

knew

he was dead, he saw it. He glanced to Kurosaki, and saw the dread darkening Kurosaki’s expression. Kurosaki dropped his voice until it was barely above a whisper. “We shouldn't be here.”
 
“Soul Society?” Grimmjow ventured.
 
“There is no Gotei 13...not yet.” Kurosaki said.
 
Yet. Grimmjow stared at him, trying to work out what he meant, and hoping he was wrong.
 
Kurosaki drew the trench knife at his waist, his feet shifting apart into a low stance. His voice was low, careful to keep his words between the two of them. “This isn’t our time...this is the past.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Ichigo’s desire to protect people fucked him again. I gave Orihime’s current role a lot of thought for the past few chapters, and even if I don’t like her in the show, I’m doing my best to write her so I do like her, without changing her. Most of what held up this chapter was all my stresses over all the above, so let me know what you think.
 
I agonized over this, and I promise this isn’t a random 180, but out of the two paths I could take, this seems to serve the story best. Also, this isn’t a reset button, this isn’t permanent, to any that are nervous it is.
  
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---

Kurosaki Ichigo

“This isn’t our time...this is the past.”

Grimmjow’s expression flitted quickly from surprise, to disbelief, then confusion. Knowing Grimmjow, anger was on the heels of any one of those emotions. “I know your reiatsu is already low,” Ichigo said, “but hide it.”
 
For once, the Espada obeyed without complaint, but that seemed to spur a thought, concern flickering across his face. “Are you still, you know…”
 
A host? “Yes, which is why I need to keep a low profile. Who knows how far back this is?”
 
“Ya know,” said Reizei, “It’s rude to whisper.” He’d been observing until that point, but now the shinigami’s patience was up. He lifted his sword, point to the ground and said, “Reject,
Kūgeki.”
 
Starting with the blade, the sword began to disappear, until there was nothing left at all. Reizei quirked his head to the side, lifted the hand that had been holding the hilt, and snapped.
 
Semi-transparent shields appeared, sluggishly drifting around him in a clockwise motion. They were narrow rectangles that extended from a foot above his head, to a foot before the ground. Ichigo counted six, watching them slowly revolve around Reizei. They weren’t so close that the shinigami could extend his arm to touch them, but they were close enough to offer almost perfect defense.

“Oy, King.”

“Yeah.” The color might be different than Inoue’s shield, his were a deep red, but the technique was too similar. This was her father, there was no arguing around it.

“Guess that means we can’t kill him.”

‘Try to contain your disappointment,’

Ichigo growled back at his hollow.

‘We shouldn’t kill anyone anyways.’

“Can we play?”

Ichigo lazily twirled the trench knife in his hand, wondering if he should take the bait and attack from above, just to see what happened.

‘I

just said

we can’t kill him.’

Ossan spoke up.

‘This is far further in time than we went before. This”

Reizei interrupted that thought, asking Grimmjow, “Oy, is that a mask fragment? You wouldn’t happen to be an arrancar?”
 
Grimmjow snarled, “What of it?”
 
Scratching his head, Reizei shrugged. “Doesn’t look like any mask fragments I ever saw.”
 
“Not you too,” Grimmjow muttered.
 
Reizei moved, but both he and Grimmjow were on their guard. Reizei pushed his palm forward, a single shield rushing towards them in an attack, but it remained parallel with the ground. They both simply stepped into sonido, with Grimmjow moving left, and Ichigo to the right. Reizei’s shield went straight through a building, eradicating anything it came into contact with. It flickered out a few hundred feet away, like it never was.
 
The shields reoriented, a new one forming when the one he used to attack disintegrated. Ichigo started to move in a circle around him, assuming those shields were under his explicit control. Trying to show that his shields were limited in quantity had to be a purposefully misleading tactic. He wasn’t buying it, he knew Inoue’s technique, and this was her father, they wouldn’t be so different.
 
A thought occurred to Ichigo and he called over to Grimmjow. “Don’t kill anyone.”
 
Grimmjow was crouched on the roof of a shack, shouting back. “Then what the fuck are we fighting for?”
 
“Curiosity.” That was a bit of a lie; his instincts railed against Reizei’s very presence, and he was itching to know why.
 
Ichigo didn’t think it was coincidence that they’d been dropped back in time only feet away from this shinigami. Contrary to popular belief, strong shinigami were rare, and Reizei’s confidence wasn’t pulled out of his ass; he was strong.
 
Reizei must have been curious too, because he was going slow, observing. The shinigami raised his hand in a gesture, and the shields split in two, making them a square-like set of twelve.
 
So he could split them and manipulate them at will, that could be fun. It would boil down to speed, tactics and effectiveness.

“We are not here to fight, Ichigo.”

But the allure was strong, it had been awhile since he’d found a challenge.

‘I can be quick.’

“We have more pressing matters.”

If his own Zanpakuto was calling off a fight, it was probably smart to listen. Ichigo noticed Grimmjow edging around behind Reizei so he called out to him. “Stay out of this.”
 
“What? Why?!”
 
Ichigo stepped into shunpo and Grimmjow shouted, “Oy! Ku-”
 
Ossan materialized, hand over the Espada’s mouth, and warned, “No names.”
 
While that happened, Reizei easily oriented his shields to block Ichigo’s attack, his Zanpakuto kicking up sparks against the shield as if it were steel.
 
Before Ichigo could follow through, Reizei twisted his hand and the shields along with it so they were level with the ground. The two closest to Ichigo shot towards him, sharp as razors and as fast as any sword.
 
Ichigo twisted to dodge, then jumped. He took the shinigami’s bait and attacked from above, kicking off of reishi to launch himself straight down. Reizei didn’t even move, so confident in his defense. The shields converged on Ichigo like a six pronged guillotine.
 
Instead of backing off, Ichigo twisted, using the trench knife to deflect two, saw that it pushed the shields back instead of cutting through them, and he used his sheathed Khyber sword to guard his back. He cut through Reizei’s defense with speed that caught the other off guard.
 
Ichigo ended up behind him, the blade of the trench knife held lightly against his throat. “Does this count as winning?”
 
“You’re fast,“ Reizei complimented. His voice was tight with concentration, but there wasn’t an ounce of fear in him. Ichigo couldn’t be sure if his confidence was because the shinigami couldn’t feel his reiatsu, or for something else. He moved his hand, and the shields shifted, angling offensively towards Ichigo.
 
Without waiting to see what happened, Ichigo grabbed Reizei’s wrist, using brute force to hold him still. That didn’t go over well, the reaction was volatile, something unknown grating up against Alteza. Ichigo jerked back on reflex, skipping the distance through la sangre.
 
Ichigo was lucky Reizei was as startled as he was, because the sudden shock of touching la sangre might have been a death sentence. It was the difference between swimming in a pond, and the ocean. He was used to being the one making waves, and now it was already in motion, turbulent and deep. La sangre felt

alive

, it wasn’t the stagnant pool he was used to dipping into, and it made him nervous.
 
Ichigo appeared a good ten meters away, making a mental note to avoid la sangre if possible. Just by virtue of deciding that, Ichigo had a feeling he would need it.
 
Reizei’s confidence faltered then, pulling all his shields in close. The shinigami looked down at his wrist, pushing his sleeve back, but there was no mark Ichigo could see, just as there was no physical mark on his palm. The pain was a warning, a violent clashing of nature’s not meant to overlap.
 
Reizei spoke with confidence. “You’re a host. How?”
 
Ichigo’s eyes narrowed, taking a small step back. “Like I need to tell you.”
 
Reizei went on. “You’re not an arrancar. How is that possible?” After a moment’s silence, it became clear Ichigo wasn’t going to answer his questions. His eyes narrowed, bloodlust rolling off of him in waves; he was finally getting serious. “Whatever you are,
Sūnyata doesn’t like you, darkling.”
 
“Sūnyata?” Ichigo questioned.
 
“Don’t play stupid, I know what you are.” Reizei’s mouth turned up into a grim smile, parroting words at him. “There must

always

be a host, blah, blah, blah, but don’t think I won’t kill you.

Get out of my territory.

”
 
Reizei’s threat was followed up with a sudden, pressing awareness. It reminded Ichigo of die Konigin’s watchful eyes, pressuring in on his soul with nowhere to hide.
 
Ichigo took another step back, flashing into shunpo to stand beside Grimmjow. The shinigami’s God was

very

alive, and he was outmatched on a front he didn’t even understand, but he found his host; mission accomplished.
 
Instead of sticking around to fight a God he knew nothing about, he came to a decision. Ichigo sheathed his sword, and pulled Grimmjow and himself through la sangre into Hueco Mundo.
 
The second his feet touched sand, he hollowfied, feeling the whispers of Alteza to be sharper than usual, more focused. Ichigo sank into a low crouch, instantly on guard.
 
“Kurosaki?”
 
He’d already used la sangre twice, he would inevitably end up using it again. Ichigo sank his fingers into the sand, casting his senses out for an arrancar he knew was alive. Mictlan.
 
Ichigo knew how this went, he’d already lived it with the Hogyoku once. Eventually, the host would be on him like fire on dry grass, and he wasn’t willing to up and die for the Gods’ precious balance.
 
The sand twisted unnaturally around Ichigo’s hand and he sent out a ripple of power through la sangre.

Here I am, motherfucker

.
 
If he couldn’t run, or hide, Mictlan was the only host who might be on his side, and only if the other didn’t realize what he really was. If Mictlan discovered he was also the host of die Konigin, the arrancar might not be so forthcoming.
 
Ossan noted.

“In the future, Mictlan didn’t recognize us.”

‘Maybe he did and he lied, or maybe his brains were scrambled, who knows, but I can’t run from him.’

Ichigo warned, “Stay very close, Grimmjow.”
 
There was a nervous fringe in his fraccion’s voice. “Why? What did you do?”
 
Ichigo wasn’t often concerned about his own ability to do something, but the situation was different, he was at a massive disadvantage. “I just sent out an invitation.” If he tried to hide, he risked becoming even more of a target, and he couldn’t hope to win against every single host in their prime.
 
Grimmjow shifted even closer, until his arm was touching Ichigo’s, well aware that he was just a liability if he got in the way. “To whom?” To Grimmjow’s credit, Ichigo didn’t hear fear in his voice. The metaphorical rug had been ripped from under the Espada’s feet and he was still standing. Grimmjow was sturdy, Ichigo didn’t think his faith in him was misplaced.
 
La sangre shifted in a flurry in the air, and in an instant, Mictlan stood only feet away from them. The wind tugged dark hair over his shoulders, the moonlight catching the edges of a dark skull-like mask fragment over his face. Ichigo had only seen shadows, but to see him now in person, he was strong. Fighting him would be a pointless mistake.
 
Ichigo spoke first. “Mictlāntēcutli.” There were few names he remembered, but this one burned in his soul, he couldn’t forget if he tried.
 
Ichigo shifted a bit lower, his horns angled towards the ground, submitting as much as his pride could handle. He was making it crystal clear he didn’t come here to fight, no matter how pointless that might be.
 
Mictlan’s voice was flat, amber eyes burning in the dark. “You’re a host.” Redundant, but he was making it clear they were on the same page.
 
Mictlan took a casual step forward, and Ichigo held an arm back, pushing Grimmjow further behind him. Grimmjow didn’t argue, thank the powers that be.
 
Mictlan demanded, “How?”
 
Ichigo didn’t think he could afford to lie, he couldn’t think up anything convincing either. He conferred with Ossan for a moment, then said, “This is going to sound like bullshit...I’m from the future.”
 
Genuine surprise flitted across Mictlan’s face, then his face split into a smirk. He chuckled, low and deep. “That does sound like bullshit, but I can’t think of another way for this to have escaped my notice.” His smile faded. “You shouldn’t be here.”
 
Ichigo tried to decide how much of the truth to tell, then admitted. “Trust me, I don’t want to be.” Ichigo knew if

he

could feel it, Mictlan could feel Alteza’s agitation over his presence. The trick was convincing the arrancar that it wasn’t in his best interest to simply kill him. It wouldn’t be so simple, he’d put up a hell of a fight, but who knew how fucked the timeline would be after that.
 
Mictlan spoke impassively. “You want my help.”
 
“Yes and no,” said Ichigo. “All I need is asylum.”
 
Mictlan took another deliberate step forward and Ichigo hissed, “Stay where you are.”
 
Humoring the distance, Mictlan stopped, but remarked, “You betray your weakness.”
 
Was he being overprotective of Grimmjow? Absolutely. Ichigo snorted in disgust. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what he is.”
 
Despite actually giving a damn what happened to Grimmjow, he was also one of his few links to sanity, he couldn’t hide that connection from Mictlan. Both of them were a part of Alteza, and by extension, so was Grimmjow. Trying to would just be an embarrassing exercise in futility.
 
That left Mictlan to uncover the reason for Grimmjow’s necessity. The arrancar narrowed his eyes, head canted in thought. “You aren’t weak…” Ichigo supposed by virtue of being a host that much was assured, no matter how much he wanted to hide it. “Are you not full arrancar?”
 
Ichigo deflected. “That’s irrelevant.”
 
Mictlan hummed thoughtfully, pretending to think, but it seemed he’d already made up his mind. “And what do I get in return for such..” He purred, “...

generosity

?”
 
Ichigo knew this was a gamble, but that was a threat if he ever heard one. Reaching back for Grimmjow’s arm, Ichigo got a grip around the Espada’s wrist, not about to waste precious time keeping track of him. Mictlan reached for the sword at his waist, drawing it slowly, silvery moonlight catching the edge of the katana in a deadly gleam.
 
The wind dissipated, the silence resounding.
 
Mictlan whispered the word like a threat. “

Nothing

.”
 
Sensing Mictlan’s intentions through Alteza gave Ichigo as much warning as his instincts. He moved backwards, pulling Grimmjow through la sangre even as he drew his sword, parrying Mictlan’s slash for his throat on instinct alone.
 
Ichigo blocked three more strikes, each sending sand billowing back from the sheer reiatsu behind it. He was shielding Grimmjow from most of it with his body, but this was no way to fight. He skipped through la sangre again, and again, running while he struggled to come to a decision on what to do with Grimmjow.
 
Grimmjow finally got a lungful of air to comment. “The fuck are you doing? Ditch me!”
 
“Not yet!” Ichigo barely got the words out before Mictlan was slashing for Grimmjow’s back. Ichigo yanked the Espada through la sangre with him, avoiding that attack only to step headfirst into another.
 
Ichigo jumped again without thought, his only desire to be elsewhere. Grimmjow would be lucky to only have whiplash if they survived this.
 
He and Mictlan both skipped in and out of la sangre several times mid swing, each attempting to cleave through the others blind spot, only to be met with thin air.
 
Ichigo barely had time to think, Mictlan was

fast

, and he wasn’t wasting time playing games. Dodging one attack only to block three more, Ichigo shoved Grimmjow out of the way of another downward slash, straight into la sangre.
 
Ichigo materialized Zangetsu right where he dumped Grimmjow, his hollow catching the Espada around the shoulders before he could fall. He’d thrown him hard enough it would be a miracle if Grimmjow could breathe, but at least he was alive. Manifesting Zangetsu cut his power, but he couldn’t afford to leave Grimmjow unprotected.
 
Mictlan took the bait, chasing through la sangre after his potential hostage. Ichigo was ready for that, charging a cero at the end of his fingertips even before he chased after them.
 
Stepping through la sangre, Ichigo swapped places with Grimmjow and his hollow, sending them back to where he’d been, and met Mictlan head on. Ichigo saw the amber of his eyes and fired his cero point blank. Ichigo knew he hit him, but he felt the hollow run through la sangre. Shit.
 
Drawing both swords in the instant Mictlan took to recover, Ichigo swiftly moved into bankai, half of his attention focused on preparing to move Grimmjow and his hollow again. Grimmjow had taken Zangetsu’s “advice” and was in resurreccion, which greatly increased what Ichigo could safely accomplish without killing him by accident. He’d sent his Espada away, but not that far.
 
Ichigo chased after Mictlan, the other corazon catching his getsuga with what had to be his resurreccion. Long, black taloned fingers curled around his sword, taking his getsuga head on, the maniac. Ichigo yanked his sword, but Mictlan held fast, elongated claws scraping across the surface of his Zanpakuto.
 
Ichigo was close enough to watch Mictlan’s regeneration work, muscles coiling back over stripped bones while Ichigo’s own reiatsu dissipated around them both in savage waves of black and red. He saw Mictlan no longer had mask fragments, his already long hair was wilder, longer, his skin jet black.
 
Tissue formed back over the hollow’s jaw, flesh covering stark black teeth, cording over his throat, and Ichigo realized the rasping sound he heard was laughter. Mictlan’s regeneration allowed his lungs to fill with air, and the hollow collapsed into rolling laughter, low and deep.
 
Maybe it was insanity, but under the oppressive weight of Mictlan’s reiatsu, Ichigo felt his own laughter bubble up in his chest. It sounded somewhat foreign, but there was no doubt that sound came from him.
 
Mictlan’s other bladed hand shot forward, reaching for Ichigo’s throat with viper speed. Ichigo caught his wrist, claws like obsidian shards only inches from his throat. Ichigo could feel Miclan’s desire in the tremble of his arm, straining to kill. Ichigo’s own claws sank through Mictlan’s hierro to the satisfying crunch of bone.

YesyesYES

.
 
Ichigo could feel his smile stretch his face, baring his teeth with a hysterical chuckle. Ichigo dug his claws into tendon and flesh, blood pooling around his claws and dripping down his arm. Mictlan’s smile mirrored his own, a smile forged from the senseless desire for carnage and violence.
 
Ichigo let up the pressure on his downward swing, allowing Mictlan to force his sword back at him. He used Mictlan’s momentum, jerking the hollow forward by his crushed wrist. Mictlan dropped his grip on Ichigo’s sword, letting Ichigo pull him in close. The arrancar screamed, a cero forming just before his teeth.
 
It wasn’t logical, or smart, but Ichigo found himself gathering his own power in answer, a cero charging between his horns in a vortex of power. Mictlan gave him that second to do it, the hollow

wanted

him to, Ichigo felt it as clearly as his own heartbeat.
 
It was a challenge if he ever saw one. Who could take a bigger beating.

Yeah

, he got the fucking message.
 
For that granted moment, Ichigo pulled Zangetsu back into his soul, throwing all his power into that cero. Black and red painted the dunes in darkness, the wind rushing around them in the vacuum their power created.
 
They let it build, the force of it stealing the air from Ichigo’s lungs and charging his veins with fire. Before him stood an equal, and every instinct that sang in his blood wanted to tear that arrancar down to his knees.
 
Ichigo loosed his cero the instant his predecessor did. Their reiatsu clashed, vicious in their need to tear the other to shreds.
 
The backlash ripped through Ichigo’s hierro, his regeneration fighting to beat the constant swell of energy that threatened to grind him to dust. He screamed in rage and pain and frustration, struggling to keep his ground, even as bone and muscle regenerated.
 
The instant their reiatsu was spread thin enough to allow him enough time to heal, Ichigo threw Zangetsu out into a wide arc, cutting through a swath of black reiatsu. His swing was stopped short by Mictlan’s bladed hand, the tendons in the arrancar’s hands still bloody and bare.
 
Their reiatsu was dense, enough to severely dampen their regeneration, and that left their control over their own body equally tenuous. Ichigo’s grip was as weak as Mictlan’s looked, the arrancar’s body scrambling to rebuild itself, just as Ichigo’s was.
 
Ichigo ripped Zangetsu free from Mictlan’s claws, then abandoned his sword, his fingers reluctantly uncurling from the hilt. The flat of the blade hit the dunes with a heavy thud. He could keep it, Zangetsu wasn’t heavy, not to him, but he wanted to feel flesh rend under his claws.
 
Ichigo started to swipe with his claws, throwing his reiatsu into every attack. Mictlan returned the favor, swiping back with equal power and speed. Both still pointedly ignored calling on la sangre, testing their own unaided power. The arrancar’s reach was greater with those longer curving claws; he cut deeper, dealing just enough damage to cut muscle and forcibly slow Ichigo down.
 
Both only got faster as their regeneration healed them, slashing without any desire to block. They both leaned on sonido until each motion was a blur, reacting on instinct and reflex, there was no thought. Their bloody exchange continued until Ichigo saw an opening, flashing forward to take it.
 
Ichigo narrowly avoided getting a faceful of claws and lunged from a low crouch to throw Mictlan to his back. Ichigo caught one arm in his lunge, but the arrancar’s other hand found Ichigo’s throat just as the visored shoved his forearm down on Mictlan’s neck.
 
Ichigo threw his full weight behind pinning Mictlan, no matter if it only increased the pressure on his own throat. Neither of them could breathe, it was a stalemate until one of them caved.
 
Mictlan’s eyes burned with the fervor of a fight with an equal, one Ichigo felt reflected in his own soul. Darkness started to creep in on the edges of Ichigo’s vision, and he willed himself to stay conscious.

No

, not yet, not when he

had him

.
 
Mictlan smiled wide, baring his teeth, and forced an end to their stalemate.
 
La sangre swallowed the arrancar up and Ichigo was pitched forward into the sand. Ichigo didn’t even save time to inhale before he was on his feet, chasing Mictlan through la sangre.
 
Ichigo caught sight of Mictlan and engaged again, calling Zangetsu through la sangre even as he moved. The hilt struck his palm and he swung. Zangetsu cleaved nothing but air when Mictlan jumped through la sangre again.
 
All Mictlan did was put distance between them, he was only a hundred or so yards away. Mictlan could have continued their shifting game of cat and mouse, but he chose to stop, and for good reason. The arrancar called out. “I should have expected as much from my successor.”
 
“We could go at this for hours,” Ichigo called back. “And as fun as that sounds…”
 
Mictlan chuckled, silently agreeing with him. Neither

needed

to spare the glance skyward. If he didn’t think it would earn him a hand through the chest, Ichigo might have looked.
 
Alteza was taking notice, and not in the sleepy awareness Ichigo knew. It was with the fearful scrutiny and intelligence of something colossal, and it seemed even Mictlan wasn’t willing to draw its attention.
 
Raising his hands, Mictlan dropped out of resurreccion in mock surrender, casually slinging his sword back into the sheath at his hip. “Now what,

visored

?”
 
He figured it out, so what? Ichigo let out a slow, careful breath, regretfully letting the bloodlust go, and said. “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”
 
Mictlan chuckled, his smirk poorly concealing a wanton need for violence. “So it would seem.” They weren’t so different, and unsurprisingly, it pissed Ichigo off.
 
Slowly, Mictlan crossed the distance, lowering his arms to his sides. The wind was harsh, kicked up from the displacement of their power, and it tugged Mictlan’s hair into his face, obscuring his expression. Ichigo couldn’t be sure if the other meant to fight or not, regardless of Alteza’s impending interference.
 
Ichigo shifted into a low stance, wary, but that didn’t seem to concern Mictlan.
 
“

You’re

the outsider here,” the arrancar pointed out. “But I like you.”
 
Ichigo tensed, trying to read between the lines, then decided he couldn’t be fucked to figure it out. Ichigo asked, “What does that mean?”
 
“It means,” Mictlan started. “If you can skirt by beneath Alteza’s notice, I can tolerate your presence.” The arrancar was close, close enough to see the deadly backbone of his ultimatum. “If you can submit.”
 
For two prideful, violent things, Mictlan had to know he was asking a steep price. Continue fighting and risk everything, or cease, for the chance to take back what was his.
 
Ichigo let the tip of his sword touch the sand, baring his teeth in distaste. He was silently and reluctantly acquiescing.
 
Mictlan smirked, crossing the remaining distance with sonido, but it was nothing Ichigo couldn’t track, and so he remained still. Ichigo bent his knees, every instinct he had rebelling as he submitted to an arrancar he could potentially destroy.
 
The other host seemed to revel in Ichigo’s conflict, watching him with intense scrutiny. Mictlan reached for him, and Ichigo flinched back with a snarl. “Don’t touch me.”
 
Surprisingly, Mictlan heeded that line in the sand, but just barely. He dropped his hand, satisfied in standing above him.
 
The arrancar’s smirk hadn’t faded, if anything, it widened as he warned, “This is not your time,
corazón
de Alteza. Be swift, or I fear we will destroy each other.”
 
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking forward to it,” Ichigo said.
 
“And I would,” said Mictlan, “If I didn’t have responsibilities. Responsibilities you share.”
 
The arrancar was right; if this were a selfish battle, they wouldn’t have been stopped, not for armageddon. But both had obligations they couldn’t ignore.
 
Ichigo could sense Grimmjow in painful clarity, and now that he focused on the Espada, he was eager to return to his side. It wasn’t simply out of an altruistic desire to check on his well being, but because he was the only familiar thing in this time left to return to.
 
Ichigo asked, “Will you leave me be?”
 
“Within reason,” Mictlan answered. “I’ll be watching you, and if you earn Alteza’s consideration, well…” he shrugged carelessly, “You know what happens next.”
 
He did know, all too well. If Mictlan didn’t feel like a fight to the death was sensible, than Ichigo would be a damn fool to throw that in his face.
 
It cost him a huge chunk of peace of mind to do it, but Ichigo dropped out of bankai, smoothly sheathing his swords. He kept low, making a point to appeal to Mictlan’s instincts so the other would back off.
 
It worked as well as Ichigo could hope, the arrancar even going to far as to turn his back. “Tread carefully visored, and do not kill any of mine.”
 
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Ichigo said.
 
Mictlan accepted that answer with a tilt of his head and disappeared in a cloud of darkness. Ichigo didn’t wait around to see if he’d change his mind, he stepped through la sangre towards Grimmjow.
 
The Espada was deeply relieved to see him, it was painfully obvious, and it wasn’t just because at the moment Ichigo was needed. “Fucking

finally

,” Grimmjow growled. His Espada was still in resurreccion, sitting with his arm held tightly to his side.
 
Ichigo deduced what was wrong easily enough. “I dislocated your arm.”
 
“No shit,” snarled Grimmjow.
 
Well that explained why he hadn’t fixed it on his own; in a desert with nothing but sand, that was embarrassingly tricky. Ichigo crouched, taking Grimmjow’s injured arm in his hand by the wrist and earned himself a hiss of pain.
 
Ichigo gestured with a jerk of his chin. “Lie down.” Grimmjow consented without arguing, which was testament enough to the pain he was in.
 
The moment Grimmjow was on his back, Ichigo didn’t give him any warning before he snapped his arm back into place. Grimmjow grit his teeth through a shout of pain, and Ichigo let go, allowing the Espada to swear his pain away in relative peace.
 
Adrenaline still pumping, Ichigo couldn’t help but remain focused on their surroundings, on high alert for anything that might be a threat.
 
Grimmjow sat up after a moment, panting, arm still clutched to his side, and finally gave Ichigo a once over. “What happened?”
 
After the beating he’d walked right into, Ichigo knew he looked a little worse for wear. His shihakusho was putting itself back together, which was convenient, but it showed enough damage that Grimmjow would have to be blind not to notice. “We have some wiggle room now,” Ichigo said.
 
“He just

left?

” Grimmjow deadpanned.
 
Ichigo straightened, holding a hand out to Grimmjow to help him up. His fraccion pridefully ignored it, getting to his feet on his own as Ichigo answered, “For the most part. We had our fun, and he decided to leave me be.”
 
Grimmjow dropped out of resurreccion and rolled his shoulder with a grimace. He sheathed his sword and asked skeptically. “Just like that?”
 
For a moment, Ichigo considered lying, then decided to omit the details and gestured vaguely skyward. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Gods are awake in this time. Alteza was beginning to take notice.” He was more irritated by that than he had any right to be. “It was a mutual decision to stop.”
 
Grimmjow started to look up, then changed his mind. “I was starting to think I was crazy.”
 
“You feel it too, then.” Ichigo said. “Saves me some explaining.”
 
“So...what happens if Alteza notices us?” Grimmjow realized something, frowned, and amended. “Why hasn’t it? It’s awake, right?”
 
“Honestly?” Ichigo said, “I’m not sure what will happen, but it won’t be anything good. Remember the Hogyoku?” From the sour look on Grimmjow’s face, he remembered all too well. Ichigo couldn’t say he had fond memories of ‘sleepwalking.’ He’d rather pretend that’s what it was, it was better than the reality.
 
Ichigo continued, “As for why it hasn’t, I can hazard a guess: I don’t think Alteza perceives time the way we do, not to mention, reality. Eventually it’ll notice, but if Mictlan decides not to enforce what it wants just yet, we have some time.”
 
“How do you know that?” Grimmjow asked.
 
“I don’t,” said Ichigo. “It’s a guess based off of a feeling.”
 
“

A feeling.

” Grimmjow derided. “

Great

.”
 
Ichigo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ve spent enough time with this thing in my soul, and I still don’t know how to describe it. The Gods are...colossal, I don’t even know where it even begins or ends, but I know what it feels like. Does that make sense?”
 
“No, not at all,” said Grimmjow. Frustration lined his voice. “You’re shit at explaining anything.”
 
Ichigo scowled, because Grimmjow was right, it wasn’t like he had practice.
 
“So how do we get the fuck out of here?” Grimmjow asked. “Scratch that, I’ve got one better:

How

are

we

here? Emphasis on the ‘

we

’. I wasn’t anywhere near her, and I thought you said time travel was out?”
 
Ichigo scowled harder and said, “All I have are theories and guesses, but

I think

you got involved because of your connection to my soul through Alteza. Apparently, whatever Inoue did didn’t discriminate, and it was strong enough to pull you in too.”
 
“Okay, fine, let’s say I buy that. What about the rest? Are we fucking stuck here?”
 
Ichigo certainly hoped they weren’t stuck there, he would go absolutely insane if he had to sit on his hands and do nothing for over a century. He chose to believe they weren’t. “Inoue doesn’t fight to kill, she never has. With her life on the line, I think she panicked; she didn’t want to kill me, but she wanted to live, so she sent me

away

, she rejected me.”
 
Ichigo paused to listen when Ossan spoke. “

She sent you to her father. With all that happened, he must have been on her mind, not to mention her link with the Gods.”

Ichigo shared that and then some. “She sent us to another host. I can say from experience now that I can sense Mictlan, and he can sense me. There’s a link there I can’t shake.”
 
“That shinigami was her father though, wasn’t he? That seems like.”
 
Ichigo raised his brows. “I didn’t think you were paying attention, how did you know?”
 
“Not all of us are trash at sensing reiatsu, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow shrugged loosely, like he was a bit embarrassed to admit it. “Besides, he smelled similar to her,” Grimmjow tacked on, “and fuck you for thinking I don’t pay attention.”
 
Ichigo ignored that jab and continued his thought. “Inoue is tied to Reizei through Sunyata, and by blood. It stands to reason Reizei is our strongest tie to our time.”
 
Grimmjow stared at him, his expression flickering between anger and despair. His voice was flat. “The shinigami that

fucking hates you

is our only hope.”
 
“I didn’t say that,” Ichigo said. “I said strongest tie.”
 
Grimmjow snorted in derision, turning a full circle, eyes on the horizon as if he was taking in the desert for the first time. “That doesn’t inspire confidence.”
 
“

Koneko is freaking out, King.”

‘Yes,

I can see that.’

“I’ll figure it out,” Ichigo said stiffly.
 
Grimmjow parroted those words under his breath incredulously. “We’ve only been stuck here about an hour and you’ve already pissed off and alienated one host, gotten into a fight with another, and the clocks already ticking, isn’t it? How long until the Gods notice they’re plus one party favor? Who’s to say they’re feeling generous enough to send you back where you belong in one fucking piece?”
 
Ichigo had considered all that already, which was his entire reason for laying low...or attempting to. He struggled to keep his voice level. “Calm down.”
 
Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter, then shouted. “Fuck you!

I am

calm!”

Yeah

, okay. Ichigo had been in his place, once, and it was enough to know panic when he saw it. Grimmjow didn’t have a leisurely two years to get over it like he did.
 
Ichigo put himself into Grimmjow’s personal space, too close to ignore, and the Espada’s eyes stopped roaming to settle on Ichigo’s. Grimmjow took a couple of steps back, but Ichigo didn’t let him have his space, he matched every step the Espada took. He spoke slowly and deliberately. “Get a grip.”
 
Grimmjow looked taken aback, then angry, but it devolved into desperation. The question was written all over his face; How?
 
Maybe if Ichigo was alone, he’d allow himself some time to panic, but he couldn’t afford to do that. He was here, he might as well accomplish what he set out to do, and panicking wouldn’t fix anything. That didn’t mean the feelings weren’t there. “I get it, Grimmjow, I do. There’s that overwhelming sense that you don’t belong here, that everything is

wrong

. Doesn’t help that Alteza feels different too, does it? I fucking get it.

Ignore it

.”
 
A flash of uncertainty crossed Grimmjow’s eyes, like he thought for a moment Ichigo was mocking him. “Just like that...

Ignore it

?”
 
“What else can you do?” Ichigo asked.
 
Grimmjow shifted, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and turned away. The Espada lifted his hand to run through his hair, Ichigo had seen the other do it plenty, but he abandoned that action halfway with a pained grimace and a frustrated swear.
 
Ichigo reached out for his shoulder, and when Grimmjow tried to shrug him off, Ichigo tightened his grip until it hurt, proving his point. “This’ll take at least three days to heal on its own.” The reasoning was implied; neither of them could really afford to be off their A game. If Grimmjow couldn’t even lift his arm, that was too impaired to let it slide.
 
Begrudgingly, Grimmjow let Ichigo heal him. It was a sloppy use of Kido, he was always told he wasted too much reiatsu, but it wasn’t like he noticed the loss enough to need to correct himself, and it got the job done.
 
Letting him go, Ichigo watched Grimmjow gingerly test his range of motion, awkwardly unsure what to say when he found the pain was nearly gone. In the end, Grimmjow settled on a grumbled, “Thanks.”
 
Ichigo shrugged it off. “Technically, I caused that, stands to reason I should fix it.”
 
Grimmjow snorted. “I’d be in pieces if you hadn’t.” There was an edge of self-loathing in his voice that Ichigo understood all too well. He hated being protected too, regardless of the circumstances.
 
Ichigo froze and stared at Grimmjow, brows furrowed and started slowly, “You can feel pain...”
 
For a second, Grimmjow completely missed what that meant, then his eyes widened. “Wait, wait…what? I feel the same...sort of?” He added feebly. “I didn’t notice.”
 
It was no wonder Grimmjow didn’t notice. If he felt relatively normal, there was nothing out of the ordinary to notice, and he hadn’t been without pain long enough for either of them to get used to it.
 
“

King, you had

a lot

of fun.

”
 
It explained a lot, and he should have seen it coming. Ichigo let out a burst of bitter laughter. “Sure, why not? What’s one more problem?”
 
Grimmjow looked like he was at a loss. “I don’t get it. Am I dying for

no reason

?”
 
Thinking back on Mictlan’s reaction, Ichigo had to wonder if the asshole knew. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, it didn’t change reality.
 
Ichigo looked at Grimmjow, sorting through that tenuous connection. His sclera were still just as black as his mask fragments; physically, he was the same, it was their foundation that had changed. “At the moment...maybe.”
 
“How reassuring,” Grimmjow snapped.
 
Ichigo chose to ignore that. “It’s hard for me to gauge how crazy I may or may not be, I feel fine, but if you can feel pain, then that means it isn’t just

my

connection to Alteza that’s distant. The longer we’re here, the less effective I imagine you’ll be.” Ichigo added, “You know, at filtering all the bullshit.”

“How eloquent.”

‘You’re not helping.’

Unsurprisingly, Grimmjow didn’t look too thrilled to hear that. Ichigo waved it off, not intending to be so flippant about it, but there was nothing they could do about it that they didn’t already plan to do. “Look, nothing’s changed. We’re still under a time constraint, but now there’s a fire under both of our asses.”
 
That clearly didn’t reassure Grimmjow, but at least he was starting to drift from panic back towards anger. Ichigo knew how to deal with that, it was familiar.
 
Running his hand through his hair, this time unimpeded, Grimmjow said, “

Fine

. If you can’t tell how batshit you are, then

I’m

the gauge. You’re going to have to

listen

to me,” he jabbed his thumb at his own chest for emphasis, as if that wasn’t perfectly clear, “‘cause I sure as shit can’t

stop

you.”
 
That was reasonable, but Ichigo had to wonder how effective it would be. “Fair enough,” Ichigo agreed.
 
“Now explain to me why you felt the need to antagonize the one person that can send us back.” From the look on Grimmjow’s face, it didn’t look like he was expecting to get an answer, he just wanted Ichigo to know he thought it was stupid.
 
Folding his arms, Ichigo shrugged. “I wasn’t fucking with you, it was partially curiosity, and if I wanted to be sure he was a host, I had to touch him. I did that, mission accomplished.”
 
“Now what,

heika

?” Grimmjow snarked, throwing his arms out.
 
The sarcasm wasn’t helping, but it was better than panic. “Let me think,” growled Ichigo.
 
After a minute of watching him do that with no immediate results, Grimmjow turned and started to walk. Ichigo called after him. “Where are you going?”
 
“Who cares,” said Grimmjow. “If I’m moving it gives me the illusion I’m doing

something

.”
 
Fair enough. Ichigo trailed after him, making a mental map of who was alive and who wasn’t. Ossan was a huge help; his inner spirit was a typical Quincy, all calculating, no impulse.
 
Speaking of, he wanted to avoid them at all costs. Despite the risks, he held onto Alteza’s power as tightly as he could, which was much easier to do in Hueco Mundo than Soul Society, and he wasn’t about to step foot in the living world. He wasn’t sure if Adaliz was alive, but she sure as shit wouldn’t forget him if she met him.
 
After awhile Grimmjow growled, “We can’t kill

anything

?”
 
“Why?”
 
Grimmjow gestured at a couple of arrancar on the crest of a dune. They were too far away to make out who they were, and they were burying their reiatsu enough that Ichigo hadn’t noticed them at all. Ichigo sighed. “No. It’s a gamble under the best of circumstances, but if we do, our arrangement with Mictlan is void.”
 
“Okay,

genius

, then what the fuck are we supposed to eat?”
 
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” snapped Ichigo.
 
In an effort to be helpful, Grimmjow asked, “What about living world?”
 
“Quincies,” Ichigo hissed the word like a curse.
 
In a surge of annoyance, Grimmjow shouted at the arrancar. “Fuck off!” Unsurprisingly, they didn’t.
 
That annoyed Ichigo as much as it appeared to annoy Grimmjow. He couldn’t kill them, but he’d made no such agreement about scaring them. He dropped his reiatsu like a guillotine, probably too pleased with himself when their knees hit the sand.
 
They were over a mile away, but it only took a single step in sonido to put himself directly in their path. “Boo.” The pair were startled, but underneath that was terror. If they could move under the weight of his reiatsu, they would have run. Instinct was a powerful thing, and they were prey.
 
Grimmjow caught up to him, struggling to even breathe, but his voice didn’t hold an ounce of fear. It might have been problematic if he had. “For someone that just told me not to kill, you’ve got an awful lot of bloodlust.”
 
Did he? He leaned in, gently pushing one of them over until they fell flat on their back. They stared up at him in wide eyed fear, like a cornered animal. Ichigo’s tone was conversational. “I don’t like being gawked at.”
 
“

Dial it back, King. Koneko is right.”

Tilting his head, Ichigo hummed, thoughtful, but he was just going through the motions, he knew they were right. What was his plan? Scare them to death? Amusing, but counterproductive, and he really only wanted to spite Mictlan’s rules.
 
Ichigo turned away, raising his reiatsu back to a comfortable level. The two arrancar scrambled to their feet and disappeared in a burst of frantic sonido. He was almost disappointed to see them go.  
 
Grimmjow watched him, tense. “A little warning next time.”
 
Ichigo could see the Espada had more he wanted to say. “What?” Ichigo asked.
 
“You’re unpredictable.” From the look on Grimmjow’s face, it was a considerable source of stress. Given what they had just decided regarding his sanity, he could imagine why.
 
Ichigo turned to walk again, even if it put them nowhere. “Fine, I’ll try a little harder.”
 
Grimmjow followed this time, eventually asking, “You really feel fine?”
 
Ichigo looked back at him. “Yes.” He knew Grimmjow and basically any other sentient thing didn’t like being around him, but it was difficult to pinpoint why. He believed him, and that was going to have to be enough.
 
Turning back ahead, Ichigo noticed a few white jagged rocks spiking from the sand in the distance. “How’s this?” Ichigo started. “We get to those rocks, and if we don’t have a better plan, you’re going to Soul Society alone.”
 
Feeling Grimmjow’s eyes on him, Ichigo looked back at him again. The Espada looked surprised he’d send him alone. Ichigo said, “I won’t lie and say I like the idea, any host gunning for me would go for you first, but I can’t go back to Soul Society, not until I learn to hide a little better.”
 
“Okay…” Grimmjow said. “I’m going to steal food like a vagrant, what else?”
 
“I don’t like it either,” Ichigo growled. It didn’t sit right to hide and scavenge like a fucking mouse, but at the moment there was no helping it. He ran his hand through his hair and said, “A cloak,

something

, to hide my hair color. It’s pretty obvious. Yours too.”
 
A laugh snuck free from Grimmjow. “Dangerous things are bright colors.”
 
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Ichigo snorted. “

Sure

. What I said still stands.” He had a feeling it was going to be solely up to him to come up with another plan, Grimmjow looked eager to go. Who could blame him?
 
Ichigo was losing more and more motivation to think up something different the longer he thought about it. Strategically, it was stupid to split up, but they both probably needed the distance. Grimmjow was a decent liar, but just being near Ichigo was a source of stress.
 
They got to the base of the rocks, which were a good deal taller than Ichigo was expecting and waved him off. “Go, stick to the outer Rukongai, don’t engage anyone. As I say, not as I do.”
 
Grimmjow scoffed, blowing off his concerns. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be careful. Stay put, or I’ll never fucking find you.”
 
Throwing his back up against a rock, Ichigo slid down to sit, deciding he might as well take that opportunity to try to sleep. “Don’t take too long, I’ll assume you’re dead.” He wasn’t really kidding, he wasn’t going to wait

that

long.
 
“What a vote of confidence,” Grimmjow grumbled. He opened a garganta and called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”
 
He better, or consequences be damned, he was going after him. The garganta snapped shut, and Ichigo let out a long, heavy breath.
 
If he didn’t think about it too hard, this was frustratingly familiar territory. Skulking around Hueco Mundo wasn’t at the top of his list of things to revisit, but there was no helping it.
 
Manifesting Zangetsu just to be safe, Ichigo tried to forget for the moment how shit the situation really was, but he was either so deep in denial it was easy, or just as crazy as Grimmjow feared. He tried not to linger on that thought, folding his arms and letting his head fall back against the stone.
 
Zangetsu asked, “Am I waking you up, or dealing with it if I notice anything?”
 
His hollow sounded just a touch too hopeful. Ichigo answered dryly, “Use your judgement.” He could be angry about it after the fact, but he’d take the sleep before the opportunity was lost. He never did figure out if he needed less sleep, or he just wasn’t aware that he needed it, but he couldn’t deny he was exhausted.
 
Zangetsu flickered into sonido, setting up a very, very wide perimeter. It was an unspoken standard Aizen beat into them, but hell, it worked. Now, fingers crossed that Grimmjow didn’t do something stupid, or get tangled in a mess. His connection to Alteza was watered down enough that he shouldn’t garner any unwanted attention from Sunyata.

Shouldn’t

. Fingers crossed.
 
--- xxx ---

Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---

Grimmjow
 
Grimmjow was pretty sure he had a good mental gauge on what Kurosaki might consider to be a notable absence. A whole day might be pushing it, and he was torn on the matter anyway. On one hand, some distance from Kurosaki’s murderous ass was a relief, and on the other, he knew he was a liability the second he was out of Kurosaki’s sight.
 
He’d slowly started to get used to the tension he felt around Kurosaki, but it was still draining. As much as logic told him the visored wouldn’t hurt him, convincing his instincts to stop bristling every time the visored moved was hell.
 
He took his time in the garganta, almost meandering. He wasn’t in a huge rush, and he wanted a few minutes to calm the fuck down. Kurosaki was right, he could deal with it, or he couldn’t. He didn’t want it to be the latter, so he forced the former.

Focus on the task at hand: Food. Don’t get caught. Don’t draw attention. That was simple enough.
 
Grimmjow scowled, realizing he had that backwards. Don’t draw attention, then get food. Maybe not so simple.
 
Stepping from the garganta, Grimmjow turned a full circle, clearly alone. Well that was a good start, but he

saw

no signs of life anywhere, and now he had to find it. He sensed life in all directions, so he picked one at random.
 
Flickering into sonido, he skipped in and out of it until he could call his surroundings “heavily wooded.” Determining that to be cover enough, Grimmjow slowed to a walk. He’d stepped foot outside that garganta in the late afternoon, which was convenient. If he could find a village and wait until nightfall, he could take what he wanted.
 
A break in the trees nearly blinded him with golden light, and he raised his arm against it, eyes narrowed. Why did Soul Society get light? He’d never given it much thought, but jumping between the worlds so quickly, he’d started to think about it.
 
A squirrel darted across his path and his mood only soured. Shinigami at least had enough in their world that the foundation of it didn’t rely on cannibalism. He didn’t want to whine and call it unfair, but that’s what it felt like. Hollows got the short stick, and that was nothing new.
 
He came across a dirt path and decided there was no reason he shouldn’t use it when he would have plenty of time to step off of it and hide should anyone come close. Hiding like a goddamn adjuchas...he thought he was past all this.

Maybe he was grateful for the distance from Kurosaki, but that didn’t mean he didn’t loathe what he had to do. Stealing from

shinigami

. Just thinking about it set his teeth on edge and his pride snapping.
 
It didn’t take long at all before he ran across a village. He slinked from the path and circled the perimeter until the setting sun was at his back. He would wait until nightfall, but there was no reason he couldn’t observe and make a plan while he did.
 
It wasn’t quite a flourishing town, but it was a well rounded village, from the looks of it. Livestock, fields, houses that weren’t quite shacks. He couldn’t decide what was more embarrassing; stealing from someone already pitiful, or from someone that would barely notice.  
 
Sitting in the shadows of a the trees, Grimmjow waited for sunset, watching the routine of a sleepy, boring little village that probably didn’t have a single shinigami in it. He couldn’t be certain if that pissed him off more or less than the knowledge he wouldn’t be inconveniencing any shinigami.
 
Come nightfall, it was pathetically easy to sneak in, take a couple of long bits of fabric that just

had

to be useful, and be on his way back to the woods.
 
It

should

have been simple, they were

just souls

.
 
Without any conscious thought, Grimmjow side stepped a rock that had been well on its way to clocking him in the back of the head. That was all well and good, but what bothered him was that he’d failed to sense the hand that threw it. Trying not to betray the fact he’d been snuck up on, Grimmjow turned, surprised and disappointed to see a

kid

.
 
The boy hefted another rock, obviously making an effort to keep his voice from sounding shrill. “Give it back.”
 
He was a scrawny little thing, just about to reach ungainly teenage years, and there was a determined scowl on his face. “Give it!”
 
Grimmjow frowned when he shouted, still trying to make out how he didn’t notice him. He was pretty pathetic looking, maybe his subconscious classified him as a large raccoon and ignored him. Grimmjow answered as he turned his back. “No.”
 
That startled the boy, that didn’t seem to fit into his perception of how that should have gone. The boy hurried to catch up, but before he could get a handful of his hakama, Grimmjow stepped into sonido, snickering when the boy almost pitched onto his face, the target of his lunge suddenly gone.
 
Grimmjow turned away again and said, “Scram, kid.”
 
“That’s not yours.”
 
Grimmjow paused, annoyed, and looked back at him. “What the fuck are you going to do about-” The kid threw another rock, which was easy enough to dodge so he didn’t look like a dumbass getting a rock in the face, but it was annoying. “-Fuck-cut that out. Don’t you realize I can kill you?”
 
“You don’t look like any hollow I’ve ever seen.” The kid was perceptive.
 
The kid raised another rock, and he noticed a hint of reiatsu in him. Whadaya know, he was stealing from a shinigami after all. A miniature one. This time when he threw it, Grimmjow caught it and ground it into dust in his palm. He leaned in, emphasizing his words with a hiss. “

Beat it

.”
 
“No!”
 
“Shut up, ya brat!” He should just turn and leave, but even against a stupid kid, that felt like running from a fight. Fuckin’ asinine, but he wanted the kid to back down first.
 
“If I scream, more people will come,” the boy warned.
 
As if that would matter. Grimmjow growled, “It’s just a blanket, why the fuck do you care?” The kid looked insulted, then he thought he saw tears on the kids face. What the fuck?
 
The kid pointed to the one draped on top of the two he had bundled in his arm. The kid showed the first signs of uncertainty as he made to bargain. “I just want the blue one.”
 
Grimmjow glared at him for a long minute and the kid shifted, determined to stand his ground. Fucking idiot. “Fine!” He launched it at him hard enough to knock the kid to his back. “Take it!”
 
The kid bolted upright, blanket bundled up in his arms, scowling at him. The kid scrambled to his feet and cut his losses, running back to the village, creepily quiet as he ran through the underbrush. Probably why he hadn’t noticed him, the kid had a talent for hiding.
 
Grimmjow turned back to the woods, annoyed that now he had to find

another

village. He could have just left the kid, but it felt wrong. He was well on his way to another road when he heard the howl. It echoed through the night, just distant enough to be haunting.
 
It wasn’t a frightening sound, it hadn’t been in centuries. If anything, it was just another sucker advertising his location, begging to be devoured. What stopped Grimmjow cold was the direction the howl came from.
 
He turned towards it, hands clenched into fists. Why should he give a shit? One less shinigami in the world, right? They were

just souls

.
 
He started to sweat, muscles in his legs bunching to run. “Shit shit shit.” Morality aside, what were the fucking odds hollow’s show up the second he leaves? Pretty fucking slim.
 
Screams, shouts, more hollow cries. Throwing himself into a swift run, Grimmjow dropped the blanket and flitted between the trees, kicking skyward off a large one nearest the village to put himself above the treeline for a better view.

Three

adjuchas? Yeah,

not

a coincidence.
 
Drawing Pantera, Grimmjow didn’t give it a second thought before he shot to the ground between the fastest most problematic looking of the group, and its intended prey. It only took a single slash to bisect it, earning another grating scream from

someone

. Hells, he

hated

screaming.
 
Wait. He killed it. “SHIT.” It was too late to worry about that, if he let them live, they wouldn’t stop. Whirling on the next, Grimmjow hit the charging adjuchas with his charged left fist. His bala cut through and pulverized it, scattering guts and blood over the path. Messy as fuck, but damn if he wasn’t pissed off.
 
He spun, throwing Pantera to skewer the last through the brain before it could swallow a woman whole. It collapsed in a heap, jaws still gaping.
 
The whole “fight” hadn’t lasted more than a few seconds, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he’d been forced to kill, and he didn’t know

why

they were there.
 
The villagers looked rightfully confused. Were they saved, or at the mercy of something worse?
 
Growling, Grimmjow flicked the blood from Pantera and sheathed it. Guess he solved the food problem, but this raised all sorts of

new

problems.
 
“Are you a shinigami?” A villager bravely ventured.
 
Whirling to face the panicked villagers, they took a startled step back. It wasn’t as if he’d hidden his mask fragment, and he had a feeling his eyes looked less than human. “Do I

look

like a shinigami?”
 
Ignoring the villagers, Grimmjow moved for the smaller of the hollows, bending down to lift it by the mask. He could hear their frightened whispering and murmurs. Not even prey; sheep. He couldn’t care less about them.
 
He called back. “I’m not going to eat you, but I’ll take this.” He hefted the demon higher with one arm, and that scared them enough for them to back off.
 
Opening a garganta, Grimmjow turned to leave, but the voice of that fucking kid stopped him. “Wait!”
 
Grimmjow paused and whirled, snapping, “

What

?”
 
The kid ran forward, that stupid blanket still in his arms, then extended it out to him. Grimmjow stared at it, and the kid snapped back at him with equal ferocity. “Didn’t you want it? Take it, stupid!”
 
“Maybe I changed my mind!” Grimmjow answered. “Keep it.” The kid looked uncertain how to take that, but Grimmjow didn’t give him any more time to worry about it. He dragged the adjuchas into the garganta, shutting it behind him before he had to hear any more.
 
It was quiet...really quiet. Grimmjow carried on, dragged the dead hollow behind him, not looking forward to what came next.
 
When he tossed the dead hollow on the ground at Kurosaki’s feet, he got the expected welcome. “What did I fucking say about killing things?”
 
“Look,” Grimmjow growled. “The second I stopped at a village, it was attacked. Ask your new friend what’s up with that, but they didn’t give me much choice other than to kill them.”
 
Kurosaki stood, unsure yet if he should blame the arrancar or not, and demanded, “What happened?”
 
“Three adjuchas attacked the village, what do you think happened?”
 
Kurosaki folded his arms, frowning as he looked between the dead hollow and Grimmjow. “So you killed them...to save people?”
 
Grimmjow flushed, angry. “No! Yes? What was I supposed to do?” Now he felt defensive, and it only pissed him off that Kurosaki wasn’t angry. “You said not to kill anything. If they died and it was our fault, that counts right? Might as well kill the fucking hollows.”
 
Kurosaki seemed to accept that answer, or at the very least he didn’t have any commentary. He walked over, then crouched by the dead hollow, touching its mask.
 
“What? You don’t believe me?” Grimmjow growled.
 
Kurosaki made an annoyed sound. “Of course I believe you.” After a second, he muttered darkly, “Mictlan.” He drew his fingers back. “If he isn’t here, confronting me, he wasn’t setting us up to break his rules, but clearly he sent them to cause trouble.”
 
“Why?” Grimmjow asked.
 
“Beats the hell out of me,” said Kurosaki. “He didn’t tell these adjuchas anything.” It really seemed to bother the visored, his eyes focused somewhere on the horizon, probably Mictlan. Almost creepy, how far and clearly he could sense others, especially arrancar.
 
“Okay,” said Grimmjow. “I’m going to go get the rest. No sense leaving them there if tall, dark and gruesome isn’t going to kill us over it.”
 
“How many saw you?” asked Kurosaki.
 
“Everyone,” Grimmjow grit out.
 
“

Fine

...fine.” Kurosaki turned away and sighed, fisting his hands in his hair just to let it go. The visored glanced back at him like he’d forgotten something and after a moment he said, “You did good.”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes widened a fraction; he wasn’t expecting praise, it was no more comfortable to receive than it seemed it was comfortable for Kurosaki to give. The visored meant it, and that was were the awkwardness stemmed.
 
Turning away, Grimmjow opened a garganta. “I’ll be back.”
 
It was almost too late, but Kurosaki answered, “I’ll be waiting.”
 
The garganta shut, and he tried not to linger on any of it, focusing on the task at hand.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Scowling at the dead hollow, Kurosaki tried to unravel why Mictlan would do this. Why establish rules, only to put them in a position to break them? He wasn’t stupid enough to believe Mictlan was feeding them on the side like strays, although he could see the hollow enjoying that as a side effect.
 
He didn’t know the other very well, despite the timeshare his soul had become, and reading a hollow’s heart in combat was trickier than a shinigami’s.
 
In some ways, Mictlan reminded him of Aizen, only with a notable lack of narcissism and egoism. He was being used, he could feel it, but to what end?
 
If he engaged Mictlan again, he risked making Grimmjow a target, and earning Alteza’s notice. At the moment, he had nothing but guesses, and he could feel Mictlan watching him in the very sand beneath his feet.
 
He hated it, and his only solace was that he’d gotten much better at active denial of reality.
 
“

Fuck it, just kill him.”

‘

That’s a stupid idea. We’ve already fucked up just being here.’

“So what? I’m getting real sick an’ tired of walking on eggshells.”

‘Does it

feel

like

I

like it?’

A mental scoff was his hollow’s only response.
 
Ichigo could feel Ossan’s reluctance to broach the subject.

“Have you considered that we’ve already experienced the consequences of our actions?”

“Yes,” he growled. This had come up before, but it was less urgent in nature than this. ‘

But l‘m not going to throw caution to the wind.’

Ossan continued,

“And have you considered that Mictlan might have lied to us?”

“Yes,”

Ichigo hissed.
 
If he was going to be extra skeptical, he could assume that somewhere along the line, Mictlan had spun a lie.
 
Where had it started? The Gods? Soul Society? Some of it had been true, but how much?
 
Running his hand over his face, Ichigo sat back down against the stone. It wasn’t stone, but it might as well be. The splintered remains of bones of something so huge it still haunted his nightmares.
 
He’d seen Alteza asleep, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be there when he was awake. From his familiarity with that dark place inside eternity, Mictlan had known it well. He wasn’t sure yet what that meant.
 
Mictlan’s reluctance to involve Alteza meant one of two things: it would be a wrench in Mictlan’s plans because it directly impacted the arrancar, or because it would directly impact Ichigo.
 
Ichigo leaned a bit towards both. Mictlan seemed to more fully embrace being a host, so it was possible that his loss of control where the God was concerned wasn’t as big of a deal to the arrancar than it was for Ichigo. That or he’d been subject to it for so long he was cracked. Just from crossing swords and claws with him, Ichigo thought that might be the case.
 
He waited for Grimmjow to return, his thoughts spiraling around the same point with no progress. It settled down in his mind like a sunbathing cat and refused to leave him be.
 
Grimmjow stepped back through the garganta about an hour later, dropping a dead adjuchas and then throwing some combination of a blanket or scarf at his face. Ichigo caught the bundle of black fabric and noted Grimmjow kept the blue for himself. It sort of clashed with his hair, being a bit on the navy side, and he wondered what his deal was with the color blue.
 
Grimmjow derailed that thought when he asked, “If you’re trying to avoid Alteza, why are you hollowfied?”
 
It was an abrupt question, and it prompted Ichigo to ask. “How long has that been on your mind?”
 
“Since I left the first time. Answer.”
 
Grimmjow clearly trusted him, but that didn’t extend to his judgement, and he couldn’t really be angry about that, it just wasn’t fair when it was so justified. Ichigo answered, “A couple of reasons. I don’t want die Konigin to notice me

at all

. Keeping my soul even remotely balanced is difficult, let alone forcing die Konigin down. Being in Hueco Mundo helps, but only so much.”
 
“Fine, what’s the other reason?”
 
“I’m keeping an eye on Mictlan. If he decides to kill us, he might skip the good graces of allowing us to be prepared. I don’t want to be taken by surprise. If I didn’t have such a solid watch on la sangre, he might kill us because he can. I just don’t know.”
 
Grimmjow looked out at the desert, like he hadn’t really considered just how closely they were being watched. The Espada asked, “Do you really think that could happen?”
 
Ichigo recalled how Mictlan had used la sangre to break their stalemate.
 
“

That fucker is worse than Aizen.

”

Debatable, but Mictlan was far less interested in playing games than Aizen, so there was truth in that. Ichigo answered resolutely. “Yes.”
 
That unsettled Grimmjow as much as it did Ichigo, probably more given that the arrancar really was blind when it came to Alteza. He didn’t think the Espada could sense anything that concrete, he was worried about something he couldn’t even quantify.
 
Ichigo said flatly, “And that’s why I didn’t tell you.”
 
“I ain’t scared,” he snarled, defensive.
 
Ichigo could see the lie in his posture. If Grimmjow thought he was judging him for his fear, he was mistaken.
 
Brows furrowed, Ichigo said, “You should be.

I

am. The difference is that you can do little about it, so there wasn’t much reason for you to know.”
 
Ichigo raised a hand in a casual gesture, twirling his fingers, and all the sand for a mile shifted an inch clockwise in a gravely hiss. Grimmjow stiffened, not quite staggering when the ground shifted beneath his feet.
 
Ichigo backed his pointed demonstration with an explanation. “Which is why I’m being cautious. If Mictlan tries anything, I’ll know. From the way Reizei reacted to me, and the vibe I got from Sunyata when I touched him, he’s strong on his own turf. Mictlan won’t set foot in Soul Society himself unless he has no other choice.”
 
“I noticed,” Grimmjow grumbled. He glared out at the desert in distrust, but he didn’t seem all too concerned about the sand directly beneath him, and Ichigo couldn’t help but notice.
 
“If that’s the case,” Ichigo said, “you know why I’m here and not in Soul Society. What did it feel like to you?” He couldn’t help his curiosity, Grimmjow seemed to sense a good deal more than he expected him to.
 
“Felt...big,” Grimmjow said. It wasn’t very descriptive, or eloquent, but his tone was distraught, and betrayed everything he didn’t say. “I hate doing nothing.”
 
“I’m not a fan of it either,” Ichigo reminded him.
 
“So what’s the plan?” Grimmjow demanded. Ichigo really didn’t have an answer for him, but he couldn’t say nothing. He was conflicted enough that Grimmjow must have felt it. “You don’t have a plan then.”
 
Ichigo sighed and said, “Not necessarily. I’m pretty sure that regardless of our choices, we’ve already lived the consequences in the future...but that doesn’t mean we won’t still die in the past.” Grimmjow’s expression showed just how happy he was to hear that, but Ichigo didn’t think he should pull his punches. “Inaction could cause the future just as much as action.”
 
“Sitting on our ass probably won’t solve anything,” Grimmjow said.
 
“Probably not,” Ichigo said flatly. Done with the conversation, he ordered, “Eat. I’m going to try to contain Alteza in my soul, then we’ll go talk to Reizei.”
 
Grimmjow spoke slowly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “The shinigami host that wants you dead...” The Espada turned away with a grumble. “Whatever.”
 
That left Ichigo to sit and work out how he was going to shove Alteza to the side when he refused to go into Vollstandig.

--- xxx ---
 
“I sense a whole lotta nothing, okay?” Grimmjow snapped. He tugged at the fabric doubling as a hood. “I’m already hot. If the future is set in stone then who cares?”
 
Ichigo swatted his hand away. “Leave it alone.

I care

. On the off chance our actions affect a future we haven’t experienced yet, then I don’t want to fuck anything up because you were too uncomfortable to hide your stupid hair.”
 
“Fuck you,” Grimmjow bit back, but he left it alone.
 
“Thank you,

Grimmjow

.” His own hood was a bit thicker, Grimmjow had nothing to whine about, but then again, the man was a walking furnace, so maybe he did deserve to gripe. At least outside of resurreccion his hair was short...short

er

. Ichigo switched back to the subject at hand. “Be specific, what do you sense?”
 
Grimmjow’s eyes focused somewhere distant. “Lots of souls, not sure if there are any shinigami mixed in there, they’re pretty far away.”
 
“How far?”
 
“I dunno...a few miles at least.”
 
Ichigo gestured towards him. “After you, then.”
 
Grimmjow watched Ichigo skeptically and asked, “You really don’t sense

anything

?”
 
“Yes,

really

. It’s hard enough even when I’m not concentrating on being invisible. Ossan is doing what he can to help, but he can only do so much.”
 
Grimmjow asked, “And you can’t just...y’know, do your creepy host thing and find him?”
 
Ichigo sighed. “No. If I reach out for him that means leaning on la sangre, he’ll find me in seconds, especially if he’s looking.”
 
Confusion flashed across Grimmjow’s face. “But we want to find him, isn’t that ideal?”
 
Ichigo said, “No, I’m trying to catch him off guard. If he comes at me on his home turf and he’s good and ready, he’s actually a threat.” He gestured again, this time more dramatically. “So,

after you

.”
 
“I hate this shit,” Grimmjow muttered.
 
“

Noted

,” Ichigo growled. “If we get out of this place, I promise if I can help it, you’ll never have to scout again.”
 
“This is what fraccion are for,” Grimmjow muttered as he stepped into sonido. Ichigo easily followed behind, Grimmjow wasn’t really trying to go quickly, and he was considerate enough to circle around groups of people instead of racing straight through them.
 
Despite the carelessness in his tone, Ichigo was on edge. Forcing the balance in his soul to fall apart wasn’t good for him, he could feel it. His soul hurt, he knew he couldn’t hide that from Grimmjow, and the other respected him enough to leave it alone. He couldn’t keep this up and they both knew it, but finding Reizei was going to be a chore and a half, especially when the very aspect of the God the shinigami shared his soul with seemed to be absence.
 
Even now, knowing he was hiding well enough, Ichigo didn’t think the God noticed him. If it did, it didn’t care enough to alert its host to his presence. It was the difference between showing up to a party as one of the crowd or naked and covered in blood; It tended to illicit panic.
 
Grimmjow led him around the Rukongai for a good long while before he abruptly stopped, closing his eyes to focus. Ichigo waited, well aware of how tricky it could be to locate a shinigami that didn’t want to be found. Grimmjow had a lot of nuance in his skill set that he didn’t think many could appreciate. The Espada might crave raw strength, but he was remarkably well rounded.
 
Finding his target, Grimmjow took off again and said, “If it isn’t Reizei I’ve found. What do you want to do?”
 
“How strong are they?”
 
Grimmjow thought about it, then answered, “Maybe captain class?”
 
“You wouldn’t recognize Reizei’s reiatsu?”
 
Grimmjow shot him a look. “I don’t wanna hear shit from you about that. Maybe you didn’t notice, but that Reizei guy felt different. Kinda like Mictlan.”
 
Ichigo frowned in thought. “A host feels different to you?” He had to wonder if Grimmjow only noticed because of his connection to Alteza, or if it was something anyone could pick up on. He couldn’t be sure if they couldn’t test it.
 
Grimmjow said, “That Reizei guy was a lot like you, I couldn’t get a read on him.”
 
That was a lot of effort to say he didn’t think he could find Reizei in the first place. Ichigo said, “So this probably isn’t him.”
 
“It’s the best we’ve got, isn’t it? Shinigami are all goddamned pals, aren’t they? If we fight every bastard we find, eventually he’ll come to us.”
 
“Your logic is astounding,” Ichigo said blandly.
 
Grimmjow glared over at him. “Well, what’s

your

plan,

heika

?”
 
“The more people we interact with the more I’m convinced we’re going to fuck something up along the way,” Ichigo added, “I don’t have a better plan. Doesn’t mean I like yours.”
 
It was only another moment before Grimmjow slid to a stop, a feet away from a shinigami that was good and ready for them. This close, Ichigo’s eyes widened in recognition of who he saw, not necessarily from the reiatsu he sensed. He whispered his name under his breath. “Yamamoto?”
 
Grimmjow glanced to him. “You’re kidding.”
 
The shinigami had a topknot, a moustache, and that same intense stare Ichigo had become so used to seeing, no matter if he was young now or not. “Of all people, you bring us to

him

?”
 
Grimmjow grumbled, “His reiatsu is strong, what can I say? He stands out.”
 
Yamamoto wasn’t privy to their brief exchange, but from the way his eyes narrowed, he didn’t appreciate being talked about. He drew his Zanpakuto slowly, confidently. “You have business with me?”
 
Ichigo couldn’t be sure if Yamamoto and Reizei were on speaking terms or not. Just because they were a part of the same club didn’t mean they gossiped with each other like teenage girls. Ichigo said, “No. I’m looking for Reizei.”
 
Yamamoto’s narrowed eyes slipped to Grimmjow, ignoring him. “An arrancar?” His reiatsu spiked, starting for him. Grimmjow tensed, but didn’t reach for his sword. “I’ve gone to great lengths to kill any arrancar that dared come here. I must have missed one.”
 
Grimmjow clenched his hands into fists, but waited for some signal he was allowed to fight. Ichigo didn’t give it to him, not yet.
 
They should really be running, but Grimmjow couldn’t fully block his reiatsu, and unless they fled to Hueco Mundo, Yamamoto would simply chase them; this was a problem of their own making.
 
They could return to Hueco Mundo and try again later, but setting up such a precarious tipping of the scales in his soul was time consuming and dangerous and they didn’t have time to spare. Ichigo asked, “Where is he?”
 
“I have no answers to give to any shinigami that would associate with hollows,” Yamamoto said.

“Waste of time, King. Looks like he actually mellowed with age.”

Yamamoto was getting too close for comfort. Ichigo dipped his head in begrudging acquiescence, and Grimmjow drew Pantera with an eagerness Ichigo felt, but couldn’t act on without bringing everything down on their heads.
 
“Sending your trained dog to do what you cannot?” Yamamoto taunted.
 
No doubt making a jab at his supposed lack of reiatsu, but the insult to Grimmjow was what caught Ichigo’s attention. Grimmjow bared his teeth in a snarl, and Ichigo warned. “Don’t kill him.”
 
Yamamoto let out a huff of dark laughter. “You think that you can?”
 
It was Ichigo’s turn to laugh, a smile stretching his face. “Don’t underestimate my arrancar.”
 
He saw the shift in Grimmjow’s posture, the surprise in the other that Ichigo truly believed he was strong. Grimmjow had been training against him for years, and while he couldn’t win, and the divide between them was vast, that by no means meant he was

weak

.
 
Grimmjow launched himself at Yamamoto, a savage grin on his face. Yamamoto blocked his downward slash with a crossbody guard, a little taken aback by his speed, and from the way his arm bent under the blow, his power. Grimmjow dropped his reiatsu like an anvil, surprising Yamamoto again with its density and weight.
 
Ichigo felt a surge of pride in him, a bit of a weird feeling when he still had such vivid memories of the Espada wiping the floor with him. The weight of Grimmjow’s reiatsu was nothing but nostalgic, the arrancar had an edge of joy and bloodlust in his power that was an unmistakable staple of nearly every fight he engaged in.
 
Grimmjow pressured Yamamoto back, then they split apart, both flickering through a series of rapid attacks. They were both in shunpo and sonido for all of it, they wouldn’t be visible to anyone below captain class. Ichigo watched them critically with folded arms, both his arrancar and Yamamoto probing for weakness, and finding little.
 
Grimmjow hadn’t had much chance to truly fight and test his skill, but this was a decent opportunity.
 
Yamamoto was far from harmless, but Ichigo was confident Grimmjow could handle this younger, pre-Soutaicho version. It was a guess, but he didn’t believe Yamamoto had bankai yet. If that was the case, despite how much more ruthless and less prone to caution this version of the soutaicho was, he knew Grimmjow could match him.
 
Ichigo watched Grimmjow effortlessly dodge a swing for the back of his neck, dropping low and spinning with a kick that Yamamoto clearly wasn’t expecting. It hit the shinigami in the side, knocking him off balance enough for Grimmjow to take advantage with a punch.
 
Yamamoto took the hit in the cheek and was knocked back, lashing out with his sword in the opening Grimmjow left. Grimmjow caught the blade on the back of his wrist, too off balance to quickly raise his own sword in defense. Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter, both thrilled and surprised that blow hadn’t taken his hand off.
 
A smile tugged at Ichigo’s lips, remembering how jarring it had been to discover that while Grimmjow had a sword, it wasn’t his weapon of choice. Ichigo hadn’t spent so much time sneaking up on the Espada for nothing. Grimmjow’s instincts were already good, but now they were razor sharp. He’d had to fight

Ichigo

, and the visored had kept him frantic and on his toes for hours in a fight. A few minutes was probably nothing to the Espada now.
 
Grimmjow turned a ferocious flurry of kicks and punches against Yamamoto, and slowly, the shinigami started to reciprocate.
 
Ichigo noticed the differences between the soutaicho he knew and his younger self. He was more rigid in his technique, and in his anger, he wasted a lot of energy trying to hit as hard as he could. Not that Ichigo didn’t think he, personally, was guilty of the same flaw, but he knew it when he saw it.
 
Sliding back on his heels, Grimmjow left an opening. Yamamoto planted his feet and punched towards his gut with as much force as he was able, a whole bundle of power wrapped up in his attack.
 
Just to prove he could, Grimmjow caught his fist in his hand, reiatsu sluicing off of Yamamoto’s halted attack to slice Grimmjow’s arm up to the shoulder. Blood sprayed from the wounds, but Ichigo could see they weren’t so deep Grimmjow would be crippled and couldn’t continue.
 
Before Grimmjow could shove the shinigami away, Yamamoto swung to try to cut his arm off at the shoulder. The Espada backed off immediately, and they went at it full tilt again.
 
It seemed his hollow was right, Yamamoto had mellowed a little with age, and he was pretty damn vicious when Ichigo knew him. The Yamamoto Ichigo knew wouldn’t have even drawn his sword yet, the cocky bastard.
 
Yamamoto was used to being the best, which Ichigo found interesting. Reizei was the host in the past, not Yamamoto, which probably meant Reizei was older, and Ichigo could easily say Reizei was stronger. So where had he been all that time? It worried Ichigo enough that he doubted his plan.
 
Ichigo didn’t have to let Grimmjow fight, but he was hopeful it would draw Reizei out without giving away he was there. Grimmjow and Yamamoto were putting out a lot of reiatsu, they weren’t holding back, even if neither had released their sword yet.
 
Reizei had to notice eventually, but would he come if he didn’t sense Ichigo? Maybe, maybe not, but Ichigo was ready. It seemed to be a running trend that regardless of which God someone was a host for, they were deeply territorial. Ichigo hoped that the very presence of an arrancar would be enough.
 
While he watched and crossed his fingers for some host intervention, that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying close attention to the fight.
 
Yamamoto grathered reiatsu in his hands and shouted, “Hadō #91!” Spheres of fuschia light manifested in the air around him, rapidly gathering in strength.
 
Yamamoto continued, “Senjū Kō-”
 
Flashing into shunpo, Ichigo intervened, trench knife pricking the skin at the hollow of Yamamoto’s throat. “Don’t finish that Hado,” Ichigo warned.
 
Yamamoto stared back with wide eyes, but there was a burning need for violence reflected there. Ichigo’s speed took Yamamoto off guard, clearly having been written off as a nobody. Yamamoto was regretting that mistake now, not that it would have saved him even if he’d been aware of the difference in their power.
 
Grimmjow snapped, “You don’t have to protect me.”
 
“I don’t,” Ichigo agreed, his eyes eyes never leaving Yamamoto’s. “Except that level of Kido would have put you out of commission and I can’t have that.” He heard Grimmjow inhale to argue. “No matter if I ruin your good time.”
 
The colored spheres of power fizzled out. “You’re stronger than I thought, gaki,” Yamamoto said.
 
“Never grew out of that, did you?” Ichigo muttered, louder he continued, “If I let you go, are you going to attack again, or stop and talk?”
 
“I won’t negotiate with a fraud,” Yamamoto said. Again with the ‘not a real shinigami’ bullshit.

“Waste of fuckin’ time, King.”

“Perhaps it would be better to allow the pair to continue?”

Ossan barely got the words out before a handful of garganta split the air around them, the sudden, dark nature of hollow reiatsu clogging the air.
 
Grimmjow turned to face the hollows that spilled forth, while Ichigo pressed his sword against Yamamoto’s throat hard enough to draw blood. “Wait,” Ichigo ordered. These weren’t weak adjuchas and fodder, but rather arrancar.
 
“

It seems your friend is keeping a very, very close watch on you.”

That unsettled Ichigo simply because he didn’t

feel

eyes on him. Mictlan had a level of experience using la sangre that he just couldn’t match yet.
 
‘

This could be a mistake.’

“Do you have another plan?”

He didn’t, and he didn’t have time to sit on his ass and think of one. What he wouldn’t give to have Urahara there.
 
Ichigo didn’t look away from Yamamoto, confident he was stronger, but not about to be stupid when he was focusing so intently on dividing his soul. He sensed five arrancar, unsure of what he felt was through la sangre or reiatsu, it was nearly indistinguishable when they were so close.
 
Grimmjow put his back to Ichigo’s, but didn’t engage. “Oy, White.”
 
“I’m thinking!” Ichigo snapped. Yamamoto shifted his weight and Ichigo pressed the sword harder, blood welling along the blade. That discouraged further movement, but he still hadn’t come to a decision.
 
Swords drawn, these arrancar weren’t there to fuck around, but it appeared they were only there for Yamamoto. From their reluctance to attack, Ichigo could only assume they were sent on orders not to touch him or Grimmjow.
 
Ichigo drew the blade back a fraction and said, “You wanted arrancar, have at them.” He knew it was a trap, and he was sprinting right into it, but he couldn’t foresee this going any other way.

“Gettin’ real fuckin’ tired of bein’ played.”

Yamamoto whipped his Zanpakuto up to try to cut straight through both of them, and he and Grimmjow moved out of the way, letting the arrancar take over the fight. They skipped back off the path, watching the fight continue further into the canyon. Ichigo sheathed his sword and watched closely enough to be sure they weren’t about to get dragged into it. The arrancar weren’t interested in anyone outside of Yamamoto. Ichigo watched for Reizei.
 
The arrancar weren’t all that strong, Yamamoto was just barely struggling against them outside of shikai, but he

was

struggling. The arrancar were good at working together, a dynamic the shinigami wasn’t used to facing.
 
Ichigo crossed his fingers that Yamamoto was too prideful to release his Zanpakuto and end it, and for the moment, he didn’t. The fight moved, but Ichigo kept track, carefully tuning his senses towards the void, towards the same feeling of nothingness he felt when he gripped Reizei’s wrist.
 
There was sound of ringing steel, distant shouts, the hum of reiatsu in the air, then he felt it. Slicing through reality with the same intensity as la sangre, it went deeper, to a presence that hung over him like watchful eyes, rejecting his very being.
 
Ichigo moved without warning, his shunpo flawless and fast. Reizei didn’t even have time to draw breath before Ichigo hit him in the chest and got his arms around him, pushing him into la sangre. Ichigo felt Reizei stiffen, he felt the other host’s power as it slipped over his his skin like a cold gust of air, but not fast enough, and not strong enough to cut through the layer of la sangre that protected him.
 
Reizei’s back hit the sand in Hueco Mundo with a grunt, reaching for his sword, but Ichigo stopped him short, pinning his arms to the ground. Alteza rushed back into his soul, filling every hollow place it had been forced from. Uncomfortably close, Ichigo didn’t waste time putting distance between them, jumping back just far enough that he would have time to react should Reizei lash out, allowing la sangre to take up his hold on Reizei’s arms.
 
La sangre coiled around Reizei like bars of steel, snapping his arms tight to his sides. Reizei snarled, “How?! I should have sensed you!”
 
Ichigo asked, “Is this the first time you met Alteza’s host?”
 
Now Reizei looked uncertain, and Ichigo interpreted that to be a ‘yes.’ Ichigo was implying his immediate assumptions were wrong. Reizei asked, “Did you-Are we in Hueco Mundo?”
 
Figured no shinigami had been there yet, there wasn’t usually reason to go, most hollows remained there and never left. Ichigo answered simply. “Yes.”
 
Reizei flexed his power, swaths of la sangre simply gone, but there was an infinite amount to replace it. Trapped in Hueco Mundo, Reizei’s power was greatly diminished, Ichigo knew from experience, especially when each of the gods were equals here.
 
“

Cease

,” Ichigo warned. “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it, I want to talk.”
 
“About what?” Reizei asked. He looked more than a little concerned, but Ichigo supposed he didn’t spend too much time at someone else’s mercy.
 
Ichigo used the lull to bring Grimmjow to him, the Espada briefly surprised to be back in Hueco Mundo, but this was the plan to begin with, he got used to the sudden shift in scenery quick enough. Ichigo asked the Espada. “How’s Yama-jii?”
 
Grimmjow slapped at a smoldering sleeve, eyes locked on Reizei. “Managing. Stubborn fuck finally released his shikai.”
 
Ah, that explained the smell of singed fabric. Ichigo didn’t think Reizei and Yamamoto were friends, per se, but the knowledge he was okay seemed to settle some of Reizei’s nerves. Ichigo finally answered, “I need you to do me a favor.”
 
“I’m not in a habit of handing out favors, least of all to a hollow.”
 
Seemed his disguise and lack of noticeable reiatsu wasn’t doing him any favors when it came to Reizei. Ichigo said, “It really is in your best interest.”
 
“Is that a threat? What are you going to do, kill me?” Reizei scoffed, as if that was a far from motivating factor.
 
Ichigo took note of that and said, “Your daughter sent us here.”
 
Reizei let out a bark of laughter. “Jokes on you, I don’t have a daughter.”
 
Ichigo continued, “In the future, you do.”
 
Reizei stared at him, realization slowly dawning on him by the growing look of horror on his face. So perhaps it didn’t sound so far fetched to the host of the God that had done it. “You’re serious.”
 
“Do you really think he’d go to all this trouble just to fuck with you?” Grimmjow said. He stood close behind Ichigo, by request not choice, he wasn’t eager to get pulled in the middle.
 
Reizei mulled that over, then said, “You want to go back.”
 
“Yes.”
 
“That would mean trusting me.

I

wouldn’t trust me.” He glared up at Ichigo from the ground and asked, “Why did my daughter send you here?”
 
Ichigo couldn’t very well answer, ‘Because I was going to kill her.’ He settled on, “It’s complicated.”
 
Reizei let his head fall back, frowning up at the sky. “Yeah, I’m sure it is,” he muttered. “If I say no?”
 
“Would it make a difference if I said please?” Ichigo said.
 
Reizei questioned, “How do you know my daughter?”
 
“The less you know, the better,” Ichigo warned.
 
“How?”
 
Ichigo wondered which truth he should tell, so he settled for a vague combination of both. “We’re friends, although not as close as we once were.”
 
Reizei weighed the truth in his words, eyes narrowing, and Grimmjow supplied, “He’s a shit liar, can’t you hear it? He cares about her.”
 
On some level it bothered Ichigo how transparent his loyalties were. It screamed ‘weakness’, but it was nothing but the truth. He cared deeply for his friends.
 
Reizei tested his bonds again, then said, “You know, to try, I’d need to be in Soul Society, you would need to let Sunyata in.” He looked in up and down and asked, “How did it not kill you the first time?”
 
Ichigo shrugged. “Let’s just say it didn’t feel

good

.”
 
Reizei guessed, “You’re part shinigami?”
 
Seemed both Reizei and Mictlan were in on his secret, if it could even be called that. Ichigo sighed. “Yes, I’m half shinigami.”
 
“Then-” Reizei started.
 
Grimmjow growled, “It’s complicated.”
 
Reizei watched with wide eyes as Ichigo stepped into hollowfication. Ichigo’s eyes were on their surroundings, expending his senses into la sangre. He let out a slow breath, feeling his soul settle back into something much more familiar and comfortable. Ichigo’s eyes flicked back to Reizei. “I’m sure you’ve already guessed, there’s another host you have yet to meet, and one that I believe wants you dead. I don’t want that to happen, I just want to go back to my time.”
 
“You’re the heart of Alteza, why would you want me alive?”
 
“Many reasons. You’re my best bet to get back, and if you die, your daughter never was. Those are all somewhat selfish, but my other reason would be that you’re necessary.”
 
“I never thought a

hollow

would give a shit about balance,” Reizei muttered.
 
Grimmjow snapped, “What does a shinigami know? You failed, and you blame us for our nature?”
 
Ichigo caught his arm before Grimmjow could get even more confrontational, warning him. “Now isn’t the time.”
 
Shrugging him off, Grimmjow took an angry step back, heeding Ichigo’s warning with a baring of teeth.
 
Ichigo said, “I take it you’ve never spoken to a hollow before?”
 
“Why would I?” asked Reizei. Why indeed, most shinigami had no reason to extend an encounter with a hollow beyond a death sentence.
 
Ichigo said. “He’s right. You think you know hunger, but you don’t.”
 
A shift in la sangre made Ichigo freeze.
 
“Shinigami can’t understand.” Mictlan purred, continuing their conversation as if he’d been privy to all of it, and perhaps he had.
 
Ichigo freed Reizei, and the shinigami stood and immediately tried to flee with his power. Somehow his skill was shut down, and Ichigo wasn’t sure how Mictlan managed it.
 
Ichigo raised la sangre in la barrera, uncertain if it would work. It didn’t, Mictlan strolled straight through it like it was nothing but dark fog.
 
With no defense and two people to protect, Ichigo sent Grimmjow away in a swath of la sangre, before the other could argue. Thankfully, Mictlan paid Grimmjow no heed at all, not with the person he truly wanted within reach.
 
Ichigo put his back to Reizei no matter how his instincts screamed at him not to. He could take that risk to protect the future.
 
Mictlan continued, talking past Ichigo to Reizei. “Hollows devour, it’s what we do, it’s what we are.” His tone grew quieter, less conversational, punctuating each word with ever increasing anger. “Thanks to you. Why should we suffer for your failures?”
 
If Reizei had an answer, he didn’t speak it. There was nothing but heavy silence from the shinigami, and Ichigo wasn’t about to turn to look.
 
Every deliberate step put Mictlan closer, cutting down the seconds before Ichigo would be forced to act. The wolfish reflection of the moon in his eyes only served to remind Ichigo he could pull on die Konigin if he was really so desperate. Turning the dark on Mictlan wasn’t going to work.
 
Ichigo tried to bargain for reason, no matter how pointless it might be. “Killing him won’t fix your problems, it’ll only make them worse.”
 
Mictlan let out an irritated sound, as if Ichigo were nothing more than a disobedient child. “You would side against your own?” He shrugged loosely. “No matter, you’ve already dragged him here. Step aside, or I’ll move you.”
 
Ichigo reached back for Reizei, getting a handful of his shihakusho, and tried to jump to Soul Society with la sangre.
 
Nothing happened.
 
Mictlan chided. “

Niño

...you’re a guest in my time. The desert is

mine,

and I haven’t given you permission to leave.”
 
No matter how terrifying that should be, Ichigo ignored it and took a second to brief Reizei on where they stood. “Listen, I’m on your side, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to cripple me.”
 
Reizei asked, “You have a plan?”
 
Mictlan slowly drew his weapon, savoring cornering his prey. Ichigo answered, “Run, fight, you know, not die.”
 
Reizei made an unimpressed noise. “Can you get me out of here?”
 
“I just tried,” Ichigo admitted. He asked, “Can you make a shield?” He’d barely finished getting the words out when Reizei manifested his shields in a tight circle around them both, for whatever that was worth.
 
Ichigo took a small step back, considering his options. He could use la sangre within Hueco Mundo, but he couldn’t leave. Pulling Reizei along for the ride likely wouldn’t do anything more than put the shinigami host out of commission.
 
Mictlan crossed the remaining distance in sonido and swung his sword, a wave of la sangre crashing over them both. Reizei’s shield ate most of it, and Ichigo cleared out the rest, stopping Mictlan’s strike with Zangetsu.
 
The arrancar’s sword cut through Reizei’s shields like butter. La sangre dripped from the blade like tar, and getting a closer look at Mictlan, Ichigo could see why.
 
Mictlan didn’t just channel la sangre, it was a part of him, there was hardly any piece of him left. Ichigo realized he hadn’t noticed before because he only saw what Mictlan wanted him to see.
 
Now the arrancar wanted him to see the gulf between them. Ichigo was still standing on the surface looking in, and Mictlan was drowning.
 
The arrancar smiled. “You should speak to it, then you would understand.” Ichigo looked

through

Mictlan, to something vast, something dark. Quietly, with the unsettling terror of the blanket of a moonless night, he felt it.

Alteza

.
 
Suddenly, Mictlan was gone, Reizei’s hand was fisted in the back of his kosode, and Ichigo was staring out at an empty desert. Staggering, Ichigo caught himself on Zangetsu, breathing hard. His very soul cringed in denial of whatever it was Reizei did, his guts twisting in distaste. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything like that, but it made sense with an opposing host dragging him through whatever void Sunyata reigned over.
 
Reizei snapped, “Get your feet under you.”
 
Shaking off the sudden pain and disgust, Ichigo straightened. “It’s aware,” he said softly, the realization dragging him like an undertow.
 
Alteza knew he was there, its awareness seeping into his soul in stringent scrutiny. Even if Mictlan suddenly wasn’t interested, the host wouldn’t be able to ignore Ichigo now.
 
“Yes,” Reizei said stiffly, spinning Ichigo around to see him eye to eye, “which means you’re running out of time. There can only be one host; you have to kill him.”
 
Ichigo stared at Reizei, stricken. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, King. Fucking kill him.”

‘Save myself and fuck everything else? No.’

It wasn’t as if Zangetsu gave a damn about anyone outside of Ichigo, he wasn’t surprised his hollow didn’t give a damn about any ramifications.
 
Reizei judged Ichigo’s silence, then shoved him away with a loud swear when it became clear Ichigo wasn’t going to do as he wanted. The shinigami host tried to open another gate, but to no avail, his power skirting over the sand and fizzling out, cut off from its source.
 
Ichigo watched Reizei try and fail, realizing that even if Reizei somehow managed to send them back to their time, Reizei would die anyway, and this all would be for nothing.
 
Ichigo felt the tug on la sangre beneath his feet, in the air he breathed, and knew Mictlan was coming.
 
Time was running out, but the sudden shift in Mictlan’s behavior was to his advantage. He said, “You’re going to have a small window.”
 
He would be leaving Grimmjow behind, but if Reizei died now, he lost Orihime. He had to choose, and it was tearing him apart. There was a small chance Grimmjow’s tie with his soul was enough, but he couldn’t hinge his actions now on the fear that it wouldn’t be.

“Get a grip, King, that fucker will

kill you.

”

Mictlan stepped from la sangre, claws outstretched for Reizei, and Ichigo was ready. Loosing a getsuga directly into Mictlan’s face to temporarily blind him, he swung his sword around, and Mictlan made no effort to dodge. Ichigo impaled him just beneath the ribs, skewering him against the dunes.
 
That attack wouldn’t have worked if Mictlan wasn’t so dead set on killing Reizei in the first place. Ichigo watched Mictlan cough up blood, claws slipping on Zangetzu’s edge. Ichigo commented, “Can’t feel pain, can you?”
 
Mictlan smiled with bloody teeth, attempting to laugh, but his lungs were sliced through, and Ichigo wasn’t letting him heal. The arrancar tried to pull himself up by the sword, the gold in his eyes rimmed almost entirely by black. Crazy fucker was even more insane than Ichigo realized.
 
Ichigo leaned in and hissed, “You want me to understand?” He reached out for Mictlan, jamming his hand into his hollow hole to get a grip on him. He wrenched him up the blade, closer. “Show me.“
 
Ichigo reached out with la sangre for that place that felt like home when he knew it was nothing but nightmares. Mictlan only smiled wider, allowing Ichigo to drag them both away.
 
La sangre crawled over their skin, and Ichigo was suddenly in darkness so absolute, it felt like ashen hands pressed in on his throat, cold fingers dragging up his spine.
 
The ground beneath his feet pulsed in a slow, steady tempo, and Ichigo felt terror sing in his bones. Even without sight, Ichigo could feel the weight on his sword disappear, and he didn’t know where Mictlan had gone.
 
Without warning, the mental press of hands became all too real as they gripped the fabric of his shihakusho, fingers curling in the fabric and scraping against his skin. Too many hands, pulling him in every direction.
 
Ichigo suppressed a scream, squeezing his eyes shut, no matter that he was already in darkness. Either because he was forced, or from fear, he fell to his knees, his fingers still clenched in a deathgrip on Zangetsu.
 
The thumping, dull pound of a heart buzzed in his bones and made his teeth itch.
 
Words were whispered against the nape of his neck, painfully clear in the deafening silence. It was Mictlan’s voice, and it wasn’t, the words too deep, too sharp, too different.

Gof'n

n'ghft

The hands tightened, sinking deeper than flesh, they clawed into his soul, holding him still. Sand scraped against his skin as sharply as the words, his brain twisting itself into knots to understand.

Gof’n-oth shagg ‘Ai

Dreams...Ichigo knew that word, fighting for the words to respond. Alteza knew he was from the future, or at the very least, not the present, and it knew he came from a time the Gods slept.

“Why do you sleep?”

His words fell flat on the air with nothing to bounce off of, the language he spoke pulled not from memory or knowledge but from things better left unknown. Simply speaking it made his head ache.

Ya nafl

A flicker of frustration coursed through Ichigo’s veins. Of course it was awake

now

, and all this did was solidify Ichigo’s theory that time was different for the Gods. What happened in the future or past didn’t seem to change their approach to reality.
 
All too familiar words rang in his ears and his soul, no longer spoken through Mictlan.
 
YOU DO NOT BELONG
 
He was out of time, and he’d learned jack shit. He asked frantically.

“Why destroy Sunyata’s host?”

Ichigo was given no answer. Darkness surged around him in a rising tide, pressing in on him with a weight he knew could crush him, all it would take was a thought. He felt small, adrift in the darkness of space. He thought he might be dying, but he wasn’t sure, it was an all encompassing agony he could remember too well.
 
--- xxx ---

Sucking in a lungful of la sangre, Ichigo panicked, realizing he was seconds away from drowning in it. Orienting himself, he burst through the surface, coughing and hacking.
 
Dragging himself from what felt like a lake of viscous darkness, he heaved on the ‘shore’, throwing up dark reishi. “Gross,” he muttered, breathless. The reishi disappeared into the sand once he’d hacked it up, but it was just as uncomfortable as the first time. “That’s uncomfortably familiar.”
 
He coughed again, flopping onto his back to breathe. His entire body ached, he was running on fumes, his reiatsu was essentially gone. Also familiar.
 
He blinked up at a starless sky. “Zangetsu?”

“Here, King.”

‘Ossan?’

“You’re very, very hollow right now, King. I don’t sense him. Just that fucker Alteza.”

That was worrisome, but he was alive, he had an opportunity to deal with it.
 
He suddenly sat bolt upright, a glimmer of reiatsu prickling against his senses. He rolled forward onto his feet, throwing himself into the lake of la sangre he’d crawled from. He dove beneath the surface blind, following the trail of reiatsu he sensed. He reached out, snakking a fistful of jacket.
 
Dragging Grimmjow out of the dark toward the shore, he got his arms around his chest, struggling to pull dead weight across the sand. He dropped him heavily, noticing he wasn’t breathing, and the sudden panic he might really be dead settled in his stomach like iron.
 
He slapped the maskless side of his face, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up you bastard,” he growled. He hit him a little harder, shouting in his face, “HEY!”
 
Grimmjow coughed, then rolled to his side to throw up reishi, half on Ichigo, but it dissolved anyway, Ichigo didn’t care. Grimmjow caught his breath enough to pant. “I hear you,

you asshole

.” He shoved at Ichigo, which really just consisted of him touching his chest. “Back off.”
 
Ichigo pretended there was more force behind his hand than there really was, sitting back on the sand to pretend his hollow heart had very nearly stopped. Ichigo stopped himself from asking if Grimmjow was okay, he wasn’t, he could feel it through la sangre like a livewire. Grimmjow couldn’t feel pain, but his soul was almost completely taken by Alteza. He didn’t need to tell Grimmjow, he thought he might already feel it.
 
Grimmjow rolled to his back and asked, “What time is this?”
 
Ichigo had been a bit preoccupied, he hadn’t checked. Closing his eyes and casting his senses out over the desert, he noted things felt relatively the same as he expected. No Mictlan. He let out a sigh of relief, he couldn’t help it. “The present.”
 
Still breathless and tired, it took Grimmjow some time to get the words out, but he managed. “Did we accomplish

anything

on that little field trip?”
 
The dread that settled in Ichigo’s stomach only grew heavier. “Nothing good.”
 
“How do you know that?” Grimmjow asked.
 
“Call it a hunch.” It was a bit more than that, but his instincts were rarely wrong. Ichigo struggled to his feet, running his hand along the handle of the trench knife in concern, then extended it down to Grimmjow.
 
Grimmjow accepted his hand without much more than a tired scowl, asking, “What did we fuck up?”
 
Ichigo pulled him to his feet, giving their surroundings a once over. The lake of la sangre they were next to was more like a massive crater, and la sangre was slowly filtering back into the sand. Ichigo wasn’t sure how they were alive, but it seemed like a close thing. He said, “Let’s just go home.” He’d think about it later. It had been a very long, very disappointing day.
 
Hueco Mundo felt the same, it looked the same, but somehow it seemed

everything

had changed.

--- xxx ---
 
I feel like it’s blindingly obvious, but who guessed who the kid was? And now who can guess just what it was they fucked up? Hint: everything.

Gof'n

n'ghft : Child of darkness

Gof’n-oth shagg: child of the realm of dreams

Ai: Speak

Thanks for reading!
 
Past Gotei 13

1 - Yamamoto

2 - ???

3 - ???

4 - ???

5 - ???

6 - ???

7 - ???

8 - ???

9 - Reizei Nakayama

10 - ???

11 - Yachiru Unohana (Kenpachi)

12 - ???

13 - ???
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
It quickly became apparent that he and Grimmjow had only been absent from Las Noches for a couple of hours, meaning they had been dumped back in the desert a very short time after they had been sent back in the first place. Once within Las Noches, Ichigo checked that his phone worked.
 
Miraculously, it did, and he called Kisuke without preamble.
 
Grimmjow sat heavily near his feet to wait, which was unsettling given how out of character it was. Grimmjow looked as tired as Ichigo felt, and even without broadly advertising it, with next to no reiatsu to speak of, his fraccion was looking to him for protection, and offering some in return.
 
“Kurosaki-san?” Kisuke questioned.
 
“Ah, I’m alive.” Ichigo said with a sigh. He immediately asked, “How’s Inoue?”
 
“One moment.”
 
It was much less time than that, and he heard a sobbing Inoue in the background fumble with the phone. “Kurosaki-kun! I thought I

killed you

, You were gone-and what was I going to tell your family? I didn’t-“
 
“

Inoue

,” Kurosaki interrupted. Gently he added, “I’m fine.”
 
There was the sound of the phone changing hands again and a hissed, “

Ishida

, wait.”
 
“You almost

killed her

and the most you can muster is a

phone call?

” Ishida snarled.
 
Ichigo winced, hearing Inoue talking in the background, but he couldn’t make out what she said. “Ishida, if I thought I could apologize in person without Alteza trying to kill her again, I would. It’s safer if I stay away.”
 
“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
 
“Give me half a second, Ishida, and I’ll explain,” Ichigo snapped.
 
There was a few seconds of silence and Kisuke was back, sounding a touch exasperated. “You’re on speaker.”
 
Ichigo didn’t bother wasting any time. “The Gods react badly to the presence of another God, and for some reason, Alteza’s reaction was volatile. Inoue sent us away, back in time to her father.”
 
“How far back?” Kisuke interrupted.
 
Thinking, Ichigo bothered to try to categorize what he’d seen, he had no idea how far back they'd been thrown “Before the Gotei 13, before Seireitei had a notable presence.”
 
Kisuke provided, “That’s well over a thousand years.” He sounded a bit grim, and Ichigo heard Inoue ask why that sounded like such a bad thing.
 
Kisuke explained what Ichigo already feared. “You don’t sound panicked,” Kisuke told Ichigo. “So I doubt anything in the present is different from when you left. That most likely means that your actions in the past have already been experienced by us. Did you discover anything useful?”
 
“Notably?” Ichigo said, “Inoue’s father, Reizei, is the host for Sunyata.”
 
“Sunyata?” Kisuke mused.
 
“That's what he called it.” Ichigo said.
 
Kisuke mused, “That connection with Sunyata might explain how she was able to send you so far back. You’re certain he’s her father?” No doubt coming to the same conclusion Ichigo had.
 
Recalling how similar their abilities were, Ichigo assured him. “Inoue is definitely his daughter.” He threw his hand out in a wide gesture, even if they couldn’t see it. “So where is he?”
 
“You can’t sense him?” Ishida asked.
 
Ichigo was surprised he was paying that close of attention. “I couldn’t in the past, not if he didn’t want me to, and I doubt I could now.” It didn't sit right with him, something about that was deeply wrong.
 
“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled. The Espada stood, eyes cast down a dark hallway.
 
“Yeah, I feel it,” Ichigo muttered. “I’m going to have to call you back.” Before they could protest, Ichigo flipped the phone shut and slid it back into his pocket.
 
Grimmjow took a step forward and Ichigo stopped him short with a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t need to tell Grimmjow

why

he didn’t want him to fight, but he knew it was infuriating to the Espada to be held back so often. Frankly, this wasn’t his fight.
 
Ulquiorra stood in the dark, looking more like a ghost than an arrancar. The Espada already had his sword drawn, his appearance much more akin to his released state now that he was a conduit for Alteza; His sclera were black, as was his mask fragment, the same as Grimmjow.
 
To be here at all, the Espada must have sensed an opportunity with Ichigo’s low reiatsu. Ulquiorra’s timing was shit, comparatively, but Ichigo couldn’t think of a better time to deal with this; It wasn’t often he found himself so weak.
 
Against a tactician or a Kido user that relied on pure skill, like say, Kisuke, he would genuinely be at risk. But against a fighter like Ulquiorra that valued mostly pure power, he could handle himself.
 
Without a word, Ulquiorra buzzed into sonido, the tip of his sword angled directly for the hollow of Ichigo’s throat in a fencers jab. Ichigo stepped aside, the blade missing him by inches. Ulquiorra anticipated this, twisting his wrist and following that attack with a sweeping slash meant to behead him.
 
Drawing the trench knife, Ichigo stepped into sonido to dodge. He put himself directly behind Ulquiorra, his sword grazing the side of the Espada’s neck, deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to harm. “Dead.” Ulquiorra whirled, but Ichigo was already across the room, reishi settling around his feet in a cloud.
 
Grimmjow took advantage of the lull to get out of the way, watching from the outer edge of the room in silence.
 
Turning to face Ichigo, Ulquiorra stared, the beginnings of irritation drawing a crease between his brows. He seemed torn between disappointment and confusion.
 
Ichigo could end it now, or he could make an effort to resolve the situation. He prodded, “You know what I did. You feel it, don’t you?”
 
“You’ve condemned me to a slow death,” Ulquiorra answered flatly. His eyes flicked towards a Grimmjow. “Just like your pet.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “Fuck you,” but he didn’t move. Progress.
 
“Interesting choice of words, Ulquiorra,” Ichigo said. “It’s almost like you find it unappealing.” He didn’t think Ulquiorra himself had bothered to unravel his own feelings on the matter.
 
“You’re weak,” Ulquiorra stated, deflecting.
 
“Not weak enough for you to overthrow,” Ichigo answered. Reiatsu or not, he was confident about that. The gap in their reiatsu was almost nostalgic.
 
He spun the trench knife between his fingers. “Is it fear that’s driving you?” He caught the knife in his palm and continued, “Or would you blame it on instinct?”
 
Ulquiorra started to walk towards him, “I do not fear death. It’s only natural that the weak perish.”
 
Ichigo said, “You’re making excuses.”
 
The Espada flashed forward again, and rather than block his attacks, Ichigo used as minimal effort as he could to sidestep, tallying up the number of opportunities he had to kill him. Ulquiorra usually wasn't so sloppy, which led Ichigo to wonder if the arrancar wasn't serious, or if he was actually getting emotional.
 
He hit Ulquiorra in the lower back with a sharp chop, and the Espada involuntarily doubled over in pain. Ichigo reached around and pulled Ulquiorra upright by the dull edge of the blade against his throat, forcing him off balance. “You think you can kill me?” Ichigo asked. It was a taunt and a serious question.
 
Ulquiorra grasped the end of the sword to try to pull it away from his throat to no avail. His voice was strained with effort. “I can try.”
 
Ichigo moved his foot forward, around Ulquiorra’s shin and pulled back, forcing the arrancar to his knees. Ulquiorra flipped his sword in his hand to trying to reach back and stab the visored with it, but Ichigo caught his wrist before he could get close. Since Ulquiorra didn’t make any attempt toward using a cero, Ichigo had to wonder if he was even trying. There was a frantic edge to his actions that didn’t seem to be driven by bloodlust.
 
Tightening his grip, Ichigo reached into Ulquiorra’s soul, a bit unsettled by how much easier it was than he remembered. Either Ulquiorra's link to him through la sangre made that easier, or his own tie to Alteza was stronger. Rather than linger on why, Ichigo focused on the arrancar in his grasp.
 
The tight ball of emotions wound around Ulquiorra’s heart was coming undone, and they were a tangled mess. Ichigo wasn’t surprised Ulquiorra's actions appeared to be increasingly erratic, it was nothing but a reflection of the state of his heart.
 
Ulquiorra noticed the intrusion into his soul, demanding, “What are you doing?”
 
Ichigo let him go, putting some distance between them for his arrancar’s sake. Ulquiorra got to his feet and faced him again, eyes slightly narrowed, but now he was less impulsive.
 
It was, in a way, Ichigo’s fault for loosening the knot, even if it was Ulquiorra himself that was worrying frayed threads until they came undone. Ichigo had started it, and he had a responsibility to finish it, or at the very least deal with it. Ulquiorra wasn’t going to be able to ball those feelings back up, not when he kept indulging them out of desperation.
 
Ichigo answered, “You’re afraid, you can’t hide that from me. You despise it.”
 
Ulquiorra’s tone suggested there was no other way to confront his fear than to outright reject it. “Fear is a weakness, why would I desire to keep it?”
 
He wasn’t denying it, which was a start. Ichigo said, “Overcoming fear is what makes you stronger. Even

you

value strength, don’t you?”
 
Ulquiorra asked, “I should believe fear made

you

stronger?”
 
“It kept me alive. You wanted to know why people fight so hard to live; you have your answer, Ulquiorra. Fear can easily lead to despair, or anger, but that's on you. Killing me won't resolve what you're feeling.”
 
“You infected me with these irrational feelings. Why should I let that go?”
 
“Every hollow desires a heart, you’re no different, I only hastened the inevitable. Gaining your segunda etapa, you accepted your heart, but all you accepted was your despair, and you were left incomplete. Am I wrong?” No response, but Ichigo felt his heart, he knew he was right. ”Would you have preferred to feel nothing?”
 
“Perhaps I would,” Ulquiorra answered.
 
Ichigo hesitated, deciding on a course of action. He laid out his choices, and none were preferable, but ignoring Ulquiorra wasn’t a feasible solution. “I could kill you, if that’s what you want?”
 
Ulquiorra's brows creased, as if this outcome hadn't occurred to him.
 
“Does that scare you?” Ichigo asked, his eyes falling to Ulquiorra’s hand, to the way his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
 
Ulquiorra repeated, “I do not fear death.”
 
Ichigo moved too quickly for Ulquiorra to track, his sword angled to slash his chest. Ulquiorra blocked most of it at the last second on instinct alone, but Ichigo’s sword still shrieked off the end of the katana and cut deeply into his shoulder.
 
The Espada whirled, ignoring the pain to continue to attack, the slash healing as he did. Ichigo parried his strikes with ease, but that didn’t mean his onslaught wasn’t impressive. Once upon a time, Ulquiorra had nearly killed him.
 
Twisting out of the way of a downward slash, Ichigo cut him again, deeply through his side. It healed just as quickly, but it was an annoyance the Espada would eventually need to deal with. Ulquiorra had never been as fast as Grimmjow, not without the use of his wings, and the Espada’s strength still wasn’t enough to rival his own.
 
Keeping up that pattern, Ichigo quickly wore Ulquiorra down, until his clothes were more red than white. The more he bled, the more Ichigo noticed the arrancar’s attitude shifting. That desperation in his actions only increased, even if he didn’t react to the pain. Ichigo noticed he was getting faster, increasingly more invested in deflecting his attacks.
 
Sweeping his arm around his neck, Ichigo used his momentum to throw Ulquiorra into the ground. That earned him a quick second to stab through Ulquiorra’s shoulder and into the ground, disabling his right arm entirely. Ulquiorra’s eyes flashed with fury, which was a slight bit more than nothing. Ichigo leaned down and hissed, “Liar.”
 
Ichigo twisted the blade embedded in his arm, preventing it from healing and threatening to remove it entirely. Ulquiorra spoke, his voice edged with a growl. “Enclose, Murciélago. Segunda Etapa.”
 
Power erupted around them in a wave of heavy, dark green reiatsu. It was oppressive and heavy with bloodlust, but there was more than that, there was a spark of anger and a will to survive Ichigo hadn't ever felt before.  
 
If Ulquiorra was jumping straight into his second release, he was finally taking this seriously. Ichigo didn’t move, waiting for Ulquiorra to forcefully take back his life.
 
A black, taloned hand shot forward and grasped his face, straining to shove him back. Without the reiatsu to back his hierro, Ulquiorra’s claws sunk in deep.
 
Ichigo flickered back, watching as Ulquiorra pulled himself to his feet, his injuries healing even as he did. Spreading his arms, Ulquiorra formed a bright green javelin of power between his hands, then grasped it, energy crackling beneath his palm.
 
Mindful of Grimmjow’s position in the room behind him, Ichigo flashed forward and jumped, making himself a target above Ulquiorra. The Espada took the bait, launching his javelin. Ichigo held his hand out, a streak of la sangre hungrily devouring his attack. Surprise flashed across Ulquiorra’s face, but it didn’t last. Ulquiorra crouched, spreading his wings to fly.
 
Before Ulquiorra could act, Ichigo blurred out of Ulquiorra’s range of sight and reappeared behind him, still too fast for the arrancar to track. Ichigo looped an arm around his neck, getting him into a headlock. Ulquiorra’s tail whipped around to try to loop around Ichigo’s throat, but he stepped on it, pinning it in place. One hand tugged at Ichigo’s arm, and with the other the arrancar formed another javelin of power.
 
Ichigo asked a leading question. “You can't win, why resist?”
 
Ulquiorra froze, his actions coming to a grinding halt. “I do not know.”
 
Ichigo sensed Starrk close to Grimmjow. He shot him a look, urging them both not to intervene; his reiatsu might be abysmally low, but he was more than capable of handling a single arrancar. For the moment, Starrk observed, but from the level his reiatsu hovered at, he was prepared to act.
 
Ichigo could feel the tension in Ulquiorra. He didn't want to kill him, but if this confusion over his own existence persisted, he would. If it took extremes to get the arrancar to use his instincts and his heart, that’s what he would do.
 
Eyes on that javelin of energy crackling at his side, Ichigo tried to predict if Ulquiorra intended to use it. If the arrancar was feeling particularly nihilistic, he could just blow them

both

up, which Ichigo really hoped he wouldn’t do. Personally, his high speed regeneration would save him, but he wasn’t alone in las Noches, and containing an explosion of reiatsu within la sangre would be trickier than deflecting the javelin itself. Ichigo decided to appeal to his instincts. “You want to survive.”
 
The arrancar looked back at him in his peripheral, yellow eyes blazing with a fire Ichigo couldn’t recall ever seeing there before. “Yes. Why?”
 
It was fucking sad that Ulquiorra didn’t understand, and Ichigo wasn’t sure how to answer. “That’s what happens when you find a reason to live.”
 
“Is that what this is?”
 
“If having a heart wasn’t worth it,” Ichigo said, “you would have let me kill you.” He let Ulquiorra go, but was just as prepared to fight as before. “Most are driven to find a purpose, you're not unique in your desperation.”
 
Ulquiorra turned to face him. “You think I’m desperate?”
 
“You put your life on the line, I call that desperate.” His eyes slid to the javelin in his hand, then back. “Now that I’ve proven my point,” His voice carried a steel edge of warning. “Stand down.”
 
For a moment, Ulquiorra did nothing, and his expression betrayed nothing. Ichigo took a step forward, close enough that if he reached out, he could touch him. “I won’t ask again.” He couldn’t save everyone, but he wouldn’t sacrifice the many for the one. He couldn’t do it, not when he had a responsibility towards these arrancar.
 
Ulquiorra came to a decision, twisting his wrist and shattering the javelin in his hand, absorbing his reiatsu back. He fell out of resurreccion, sheathing his sword at his side, and Ichigo allowed himself to relax, just a touch.
 
Ichigo asked, “How do you feel?”
 
“Do you need to ask?”
 
“I try not to pry,” Ichigo answered. Unless he felt it was necessary, and he was trying his hardest not to slide down that slippery slope. It was hard enough sorting out his own emotions, he didn’t need to feel anyone else’s.
 
Either Ulquiorra didn’t give a damn about privacy, or he didn’t understand, but he answered the question. “If you’re asking if I’m feeling violent, I’m not.”
 
Deciphering that wasn’t a lie, Ichigo could live with that answer. He jerked his head to the side and ordered, “Then go.”
 
Ulquiorra leveled a look at Starrk, thoughtful, then left the way he came, in no particular rush. If Ichigo thought he would be able to relax around Ulquiorra, he wouldn’t have sent him away. Now more than before, he would rather keep an eye on the Espada.
 
Turning to the pair, Ichigo crossed over to Grimmjow and Starrk so they wouldn’t be shouting at each other. Starrk asked, “Where’s Harribel?”
 
After a moment to reacquaint himself with where he’d left off, Ichigo responded, “Still in Soul Society.”
 
Starrk frowned, “You left her behind? What happened?”
 
No doubt he was referring to how weak he was. It was one of the first times it had happened, at least in any way any arrancar would notice.
 
Ichigo wasn’t sure where to start, a frown drawing his lips down. He glanced at Grimmjow, and the Espada grimaced and growled, “Yer on your own, Kurosaki.”
 
“We got sent back in time,” Ichigo said. Starrk’s brows shot up in surprise. “Then sent back to the present. Let’s just say our presence was unwanted.” He stared intently at Starrk, and the Espada tensed. “I need you to go in my place to Soul Society.”
 
Starrk’s brows creased in confusion, glancing at Grimmjow. “But what about-”
 
“Not an option,” Ichigo cut him off. “Grimmjow’s power is as weak as mine, I’m not going to put either of us in that position. I promised I wouldn’t make you do anything, you can refuse if you wish, but there’s no one else I trust that’s strong enough.”
 
“I…” Stark started, then stopped, as if uncertain how to argue, or if he wanted to argue at all. “I don’t think I’m qualified for that.”
 
Grimmjow burst out laughing, a boisterous, mocking laugh Ichigo knew was directed at him. Ichigo let him laugh, scowling at him, and said, “I wouldn’t exactly call myself qualified either, and to be honest, you’ll probably do a much better job.”
 
Grimmjow caught his breath and snarked, “

Probably

? Definitely. I doubt Starrk will come back having destroyed half of Seireitei after killing the Soutaicho.”
 
“Yes, I fucked up, I remember,” growled Ichigo. To Starrk he said, “You’re collected, and I don’t expect Soul Society will try to kill or capture you, but if they try, you’re strong.”
 
Starrk listened, looking between the two, and said, “You want me to take Lilynette.”
 
“I do,” Ichigo confirmed.
 
A frown soured Starrk’s expression, looking in her direction. “What about Neliel?”
 
“You’re still the better choice. You’re stronger, and more level headed than Neiliel. I don’t trust her to be impartial.”
 
“Impartial?” Starrk questioned.
 
“She’s a pacifist at heart, but she’s always been fond of vengeance. The shinigami hurt someone very close to her heart. If I don’t need to put her in that position, I won’t.” She was close to Candice, enough so that Ichigo didn’t think facing the people involved in the Quincy genocide would be wise. Neliel might be able to handle it, but he didn’t want to be the one to ask her to.
 
Without breaking eye contact, Starrk said, “I’ll go.”
 
Taking a moment to be sure he meant that, Ichigo nodded and looked to Grimmjow. “Bring Lilynette.”
 
“Why am I always the fucking messenger?” Grimmjow grumbled, but he complained while he started off to do it.
 
“Because you’re here.” Ichigo answered. He remembered something and turned, calling after him. “And do me a favor and hang around Nel or your fraccion until you’re back up to speed.”
 
“Who the fuck do you think I am?!” Grimmjow shouted back. From his tone, Ichigo thought he would still do it, and he hoped he would, he knew Grimmjow still had his share of enemies in las Noches.
 
Turning to face Starrk, Ichigo said, “Sit. There’s a lot to catch you up to speed on.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Coyote Starrk
 
Starrk didn’t think any about of verbal warnings or mental preparations could prepare him for being pulled through la sangre. Ichigo did it so effortlessly, he made it look easy. Distress didn’t even being to cover it, it felt like his soul was being turned inside out, and on top of his anxiety over Lilynette, it wasn’t a pretty combination. He got a solid grip on Lilynette’s arm to keep her on her feet, but she still heaved like she was going to throw up.
 
Ichigo warned him he was going to be throwing him into a room full of captains, but it still wasn’t pleasant to find himself feeling twisted and sick in a room full of potential threats. He managed to keep up a front of composure, and supported Lilynette while she worked through hers.
 
Harribel caught his eyes from across the room, a flicker of concern hidden there. Starrk gave her a slight shake of his head, then locked eyes with the man he assumed was the soutaichou, Kyoraku. “Who might you be?” Kyoraku asked.
 
He didn’t sound overly concerned with the fact a bunch of darkness just dropped an Espada in his meeting room, so maybe it was just a relief to find he wasn’t facing Ichigo.
 
“My name is Starrk. This is Lilynette.”
 
“Is she okay?” A white haired man asked. Starrk searched for his name in his memory. Ukitake.
 
“She will be,” Starrk answered. A creep with warpaint that looked like a hollow muttered something about weaker hollows being more susceptible to la sangre. Starrk didn’t like being figured out, so he carried on. “Ichigo can’t be here, so I came in his place.”
 
Kyoraku said, “We can wait,”
 
“I believe this is somewhat urgent,” Starrk said. He asked, “Which of you is Unohana?”
 
A woman stepped forward, eyes narrowed in suspicion and a lack of patience. “You have business with me?”
 
“Just a question,” Starrk said. He set Lilynette on her feet and left a hand on her shoulder. She trembled under his touch, but he could sense her pain, she would live. While it was deeply unpleasant, much of it was mental, and it was slowly wearing off. Looking to Unohana, he relayed Ichigo’s question. “Where is Reizei?”
 
She blinked, “Excuse me?” Then she frowned, staring at him a long moment, as if working out if this was some sort of trap. “I don’t know anyone named Reizei, you must be mistaken.”
 
Starrk studied her, searching for a lie, and the longer the silence dragged, the more apparent it became that she was telling the truth.
 
Unohana said, “You think I would

lie

?”
 
“If you aren’t lying,” Starrk said, “That could be…” He recalled what Ichigo said, and decided to tone it down. “Very bad.” Ichigo hadn’t told him to lie about that, he wanted him to be as upfront as he thought he should be.
 
Kyoraku asked, “What does that mean?”
 
“It means your host is alive, but none of you remember him.”
 
Shock spread across the room in a variety of reactions, from sudden piqued interest, to a stiffening of their spines, Hearing that they might have a way to defend against Kurosaki couldn’t possibly come as bad new to them, but they were instantly suspicious. “What sort of proof do you have?” Soifon asked.
 
Starrk answered, “His daughter infiltrated Soul Society.”
 
For a moment, Kyoraku said nothing, scanning his memories, and then his eyes widened. “The human girl? Orihime-san?”
 
Mayuri chimed in. “Her powers were very...interesting,” To Starrk it sounded like he was begrudgingly admitting she was strong, but he didn’t have any idea of what her power could be.
 
“How do you know she's his daughter? She's human,” Kyoraku said.
 
Harribel looked unsettled by this new information, but didn't give away that it was. She drifted closer to Starrk, standing on Lilynette’s other side. Lilynette's eased considerably, not that she would admit it. She wasn’t a fighter, she was a weapon, and that was a big difference.
 
Starrk stole Ichigo’s euphemism and said, “Alteza isn't fond of her. She's connected in some way to Sunyata, likely in a way very similar to Grimmjow.”
 
“Sunyata?” Kyoraku frowned, searching his memory for something that probably wasn’t there. “That’s its name?”
 
It made sense that they wouldn’t know. Without a host as an intermediary like Ichigo, there was no way to even know they existed. Well, outside of collapse of the system. Starrk answered simply, “Apparently.”
 
It was so familiar, Starrk had tuned out the howling and whispers in the backdrop of Seireitei, but in the resulting silence, he noticed. It was even more haunting to hear them in a place they should not be.
 
Kyoraku started, “The girl…”
 
Starrk anticipated Kyoraku’s question and said, “If you want to speak with Orihime, right now she’s with Urahara Kisuke.” Starrk pulled out the phone Ichigo had given him, and while Ichigo had been reluctant to hand anything at all over to Mayuri, he hadn’t seen a way around it.
 
Starrk crossed over to the new soutaichou and handed it to him, saying, “They’re expecting a call, Kisuke wanted you to know its a receptor for...uh, a screen?”
 
Mayuri grumbled, “Of course it is.”
 
Kyoraku’s eyes catching the tattoo on his hand as he took the phone, conversationally asking, “What does the number mean?”
 
Starrk turned his hand and looked down at the one, having forgotten he wasn’t wearing gloves to cover it. He hadn’t been in some time. Kyoraku added, “Grimmjow had a six.”
 
Starrk answered, “Aizen gave us numbers according to our strength.” From the look on Kyoraku’s face, he must have been wondering why they hadn’t seen much of him if he was so strong. “They don’t mean anything anymore.” He still loathed his strength, despite having learned to curb it. He changed the subject before he was forced to linger on anything else that made him uneasy. “I was told to warn you to be aware this is new to her, she’s a bit shaken.”
 
Kyoraku asked, “What do you mean?”
 
“She didn’t know until about an hour ago,” Starrk said. He might not know this girl, but he pitied her, and she was important to Ichigo. He wasn’t sure when the hybrid’s wants became important to him, but they had.
 
After Kurosaki’s brief phone call explaining the situation to Orihime, he’d schooled her on omitting the truth. For one reason or another, Ichigo didn’t want the shinigami to know he had been to the past. At least at the moment.
 
Kyoraku handed the phone over to Mayuri, and the shinigami looked it over with a strange combination of disgust and fascination. Turning away, Mayuri leaned outside the door to the meeting room and barked orders to whoever was outside. Returning to the room, he began tapping away at the buttons, muttering away, lost in his thoughts.
 
Before the silence could stretch too long, Soifon said, “Does Kurosaki care so little, that he won't show himself?” Kyoraku shot her a disapproving look, but she wasn't cowed. Starrk knew now why Kurosaki had labeled her the petite bitch. It seemed the hatred was mutual.
 
Starrk answered, “Perhaps you

don't

know how he is. He does everything himself, he despises relying on others.” Harribel shot him a look, not too keen on revealing any more of that weakness, but it was a fairly broad statement, and he wasn’t dumb enough to go into detail.
 
“I noticed,” Kyoraku said. “I have full confidence that if he could be here, he would.” From the look on his face, Starrk could see the shinigami trying to fill in the blanks. If Kurosaki wasn’t present, something must have been keeping him away, and nothing short of disaster could keep Kurosaki from doing what he wanted.
 
Kyoraku continued, his eyes shifting to Harribel. “Maybe one day we’ll have a foundation of trust.” It seemed he was implying that he knew they would have their lies and their secrets, and at the moment, he didn't expect anything less.
 
Harribel answered coldly. “One day.” But not today, and everyone present seemed to expect it.
 
The air of this meeting was largely informal, with captains scattered at random in the room. Hell, one big looking guy with an eyepatch was even

asleep

against the wall. In the lull while they waited, some captains exchanged words, and for the most part, seemed a touch bored, but that didn’t mean the tension wasn’t thick enough to cut through.
 
Starrk loathed it. It reminded him of Aizen, of ranks and wars and things he could care less about. He couldn't imagine a time when it wouldn't be like this, it wasn’t a gap easily bridged. Shinigami and hollows might not be so different, but there was an animosity in the air Starrk could nearly taste. If he didn’t need to be there, he wouldn’t be.
 
While they waited, Harribel looked to him and asked, “¿Dónde está Kurosaki?” Starrk assumed the Spanish was just to offer at least some veil of privacy. Nothing she asked would be particularly revealing, but even in an empty room, Starrk assumed they would have eyes and ears on them.
 
Starrk answered, “En las Noches. Está cansado y frustrado,” he lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, “pero está bien.”
 
That answer seemed to satisfy her, so he turned his attention back to Lilynette. He put his hand on her head. “¿Te sientes mejor?”
 
She swat at his hand and huffed, “Vete a tomar por culo, estoy bien.” A smile tugged at his lips, pleased she was feeling well enough to show some attitude.
 
The scientist looked up from the phone and commented dryly, “I wasn’t aware there were child arrancar.”
 
“I’m not a child!” Lilynette snarled.
 
Mayuri quipped back sarcastically, “My mistake.”
 
A captain near the back wall spoke up. “Your reiatsu is similar; you blur together.”
 
Starrk stared at him, surprised he noticed, but then again, it made sense to him that someone blind would have sharp insight into reiatsu. He saw no reason to hide it, despite the shame he now carried along with that fact. “Lilynette and I were originally one soul.”
 
Mayuri’s brows shot up in interest. “Are you? How did that come to occur?”
 
Starrk deemed that to be far too much interest, and Lilynette had the same idea, but a different approach. She snapped, “None of your fucking business, clown.”
 
A fox-like shinigami near the door sniggered and Starrk tried not to roll his eyes. Package deal, but hell if she was just as diplomatic as Grimmjow. Some of the tension was undercut by her attitude, so Starrk didn’t feel too much regret for anything that might leave her mouth.
 
Harribel bit back a sigh as she covered for Lilynette. “I’ll apologize in advance for anything she says.”
 
A sharp blush dusted Lilynette’s otherwise pale face. She was slowly getting some color back, but la sangre had sucked a lot of the life out of her,
 
Mayuri grumbled, “She has the

insults

of a child.”
 
“How about you come over here and say that to my-” Starrk clasped a hand over her mouth and chastised, “Puedes sostener tu lengua por

diez minutos, por favor

.”
 
He let her go and Lilynette folded her arms with a soft growl. “El comenzó.”
 
No one got to continue their bickering, the doors opened and a handful of shinigami brought in a screen, and an assortment of technology Starrk could only remember seeing around Szayel.
 
They set it up without so much as a second glance to those present, with the arrancar moving to the right, and the shinigami giving them their space.
 
Kyoraku asked, “This will work?”
 
Mayuri reluctantly admitted, “If that man is anything like I remember, it would be laughable to suggest it wouldn’t.” Kyoraku ended his questioning there, and once Mayuri had the phone hooked up via wires, he dialed it.
 
There was static for a moment, and then it flickered into clarity. A man in green sat cross-legged in front of two younger people, a cat draped over his shoulders. He toyed with a fan and flashed a fake looking smile. “Ah Mayuri-san! I knew you would figure it out. Although, that took a bit longer than I expected.”
 
Mayuri muttered, “I was hoping I’d never see you again.”
 
A girl sat on her knees to Kisuke’s left, shoulders tight, hands bunched in her skirt, beside the Quincy, Ishida. Starrk remembered him well enough, but he’d never seen nor heard of the girl before. Kurosaki was very protective of his friends, so to never have seen her, she must be something special.
 
Urahara shifted and gestured to the girl. “You wished to speak with Orihime-san?”
 
The girl looked nervous, her eyes red and her cheeks flushed like she’d recently been in tears, but she sat up straight and held herself with a stubborn sort of confidence.
 
Kyoraku stood closest, dipping in a semi-formal bow. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Orihime-kun, I don’t believe we ever met. My name is Kyoraku. You met my predecessor, Yamamoto soutaichou.”
 
Orihime returned the greeting with a dip over her head and said, “I don’t think we ever did. I heard about him this morning. You have my condolences.”
 
Despite feeling neutral on the subject, Starrk didn’t think he could have managed any sort of sympathy for the man. Kyoraku accepted her polite words with a small bit of surprise, either not expecting her to know, or care. Orihime continued, “What can I do for you?”
 
“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t want to tangle you in our affairs, but it seems we’re past that,” Kyoraku said. “It’s been brought to my attention that you’re the daughter of a shinigami, a man who is the host for the God of Soul Society.”
 
She stiffened, but nodded in agreement. “That’s what they tell me.”
 
“Might I ask

how

you discovered this?”
 
She immediately shot a look to Ishida and he took her hand, something unspoken passing between them. “I touched Kurosaki-kun’s hand.” She worried her lip and said, “I could hear the whispers, that-that howling, and no one else could. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was

wrong

. The more I used my power, the louder it became. I didn’t tell anyone, I’m sorry...Touching Kurosaki made it so much worse.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, but her words still carried. “it feels like they can

see

me...”
 
There was a ripple of unease among all of them, and Starrk knew it must be his imagination, but it felt like the whispers in the air grew louder. Tears gathered in her eyes again, and Kyoraku’s tone took a softer edge. “It’s okay, this isn’t something I would expect any human to ever deal with. Can you elaborate?”
 
She shifted, uncomfortable with the subject, and said, “Kurosaki-san left the living world and the feeling faded, but it hasn’t gone away.”
 
Kisuke explained further, “Alteza and die Konigin have her marked as a threat, but with their host out of arm’s length, the Gods can’t harm her.”
 
She chose her next words very carefully. “There’s something else, it’s

silent

, it’s so different from the voices. It’s something just out of sight, something that feels like it’s standing right behind me, but I can never see. It feels like it’s looking back at them.

Through

me.” She tightened her fingers in his skirt, a shudder in her shoulders.
 
Starrk hadn’t ever heard Kurosaki describe the Gods, but after seconds being in contact with la sangre, and hearing this girl talk about them, he never wanted to be the focus of their attention.
 
She bit back the threat of tears and held up something in her hands, something turquesa and flowerlike. “It started with these.”
 
Kyoraku asked, “What are they?”
 
“Hair clips. My brother gave them to me years ago,” she shook her head, “but I don’t know where he got them. I’ve been told they’re a lot like a shinigami’s Zanpakuto.” She let out a small, humorless laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. “I guess they’re from my father.”
 
Even without knowing her, the despair in her voice sounded unnatural.
 
Giving her a moment to gather herself, Kisuke explained why Ichigo was absent in more detail. “Kurosaki is currently in Hueco Mundo; his connection with Alteza is stronger than his connection to die Konigin, but even stepping foot in the living world would be a risk to Orihime-san. Soul Society would be the world where the Gods are weakest.”
 
“I see.” Kyoraku paused,reaching up to run his fingers along the stubble of his jaw in thought. He looked back to the screen and asked Orihime. “Would you be willing to come to Soul Society again?”
 
Ishida’s hand noticeably tightened on hers enough that she winced, shooting him a placating look. The Quincy still looked far from happy, his eyes lingering on Mayuri in particular in extreme disapproval.
 
Kyoraku added, “As a guest. We won’t force you, and I wouldn’t ask you to come alone, but it appears to be the safest place for you. You would have the protection of the entirety of the Gotei 13.”
 
“I’ll go.” Orihime said without preamble.
 
Ishida openly argued, “You think they won’t just use you to find your-”
 
“

I’m going

,” she snapped, startling Ishida enough that he stopped. She continued more gently. “I’ve caused a lot of problems for people. If I can help, it’s only right that I should.” To Kyoraku she asked, “When?”
 
Kyoraku said, “I would tell you as soon as possible, but we need time to prepare, and it’s late, you should get some rest. Tomorrow we can organize how and where.”
 
Urahara interjected. “I can send Orihime-san. Tell me where and when.” For some reason, that information seemed to raise tension on the side of the shinigami. Urahara scoffed, “Don’t be so surprised. I’m exiled, not idle. Where can you meet her?”
 
Kyoraku got over his shock and answered, “The West gate. I’ll leave when up to you. We’ll be waiting.”
 
Urahara ended the call there, and Starrk immediately wanted to leave. Harribel voiced that concern before he got a chance. “You’re right, it’s late, and it would be much appreciated if you would escort us out so we can circumvent having to use la sangre.”
 
Mayuri hummed. “Yes, it does seem unpleasant. You would think it wouldn’t be, given you’re hollow.”
 
Lilynette growled, “Feels worse for shinigami. I’d like to see

you

try it without puking.”
 
Starrk let that slide and reached out to take the phone from Mayuri. The shinigami seemed unwilling to part with it, but Ichigo made sure to emphasize not letting the creep keep it. Starrk took it and pocketed it while Kyoraku said, “Soifon will see you out.”
 
A fact Soifon seemed she was both looking forward to, and upset about. She frowned, but did her duty without complaint, leaving Starrk to count the seconds until they were gone. He actually missed the reiatsu thick calm of Hueco Mundo, and while he didn’t regret coming here in Ichigo’s place, he’d rather not be there at all.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
The moment he sent Starrk off with Lilynette, he sat and dropped into his inner world. Grimmjow decided to stick around, and Neliel felt obligated, so he felt guarded enough to turn his focus inward.
 
He wouldn’t call it chaos in his inner world, but it was...different. It felt like he was seeing his inner world before die Konigin. The dark sand still roiled dangerously, rising and falling, weathering the edges of the buildings in his mind, but the buildings had sunk much deeper, or the sank had risen higher. Even the howling was distant, overwhelmed by whispers. Ichigo wondered if it should disturb him that he didn’t find it altogether unpleasant.
 
Zangetsu spoke from just behind his shoulder. “Well, ya ain’t dead.”
 
“What did Alteza do?” Ichigo asked. He felt relatively good, but that didn’t mean much of a damn anymore, and his inner spirits had more insight into this than he did.
 
There was a weariness in his hollow’s voice Ichigo wasn’t sure he understood, or could ever understand. “Sapped all our power, flushed das licht right outta you, and left even more of that fucker behind.” Disgust crept into his tone. “There’s less an’ less of you in here every day.”
 
“Don’t remind me.”
 
“I got nothin’

but

reminders!” Zangetsu roared.
 
Ichigo turned to face him, brows drawn tight. What could he say? They both saw what happened to Aizen...Mictlan. They knew what waited for them at the end of this road. It might be a long road, if they were lucky, but there would be an end.
 
Ichigo said, “Aren't you always the one that stresses to live in the present? Whatever happened to that?”
 
“That changed when a couple of monsters started eating your soul.”
 
“And what would you have me do about it?” Ichigo asked.
 
Zangetsu took a step closer and snarled, “I wouldn't have you

give up

.”
 
“I haven’t.” He didn’t think he had, but where did he start? There was nothing to fight. “Not gonna lie, Zangetsu, this doesn't look good…” He looked up, or was it down? The sky was dark in his world again, the burnt sunlight die Konigin cast through his forgotten city was suspiciously absent. “But it

feels

good.”
 
Zangetsu begrudgingly admitted, “We can't feel what you can, we wouldn't know.”
 
“You do, you know what it’s like to be self assured in your own power. And that's the trap, isn't it?” His memories of Mictlan were visceral and fresh. He didn’t want to become that, he wouldn’t trade his sanity for power.
 
He shuddered, pointedly turning away from the sand, but it was everywhere. The memory of those hands sinking into his very soul, his mind, was too sharp, shredding his thoughts like knives. All he wanted was to forget.
 
His hand closed around the hilt of his sword before he realized he’d reached for it. It was a heavy comfort, even in his mind, and he knew it was the only comfort Zangetsu ever got; that he was needed, necessary, and wanted.
 
Ichigo let out a breath, forcing those fears aside and focused on more pressing ones. He said, “Something changed when I touched Orihime, Alteza and die Konigin both want her gone.

Badly

.”
 
“How do you know this isn’t always what happens when a host gets too close? I don’t remember good things happening when you touched Reizei.”
 
His hollow wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t feel right either. Ichigo frowned, thoughtful. “It was a bit different in the past, Alteza was distant, misplaced. I don’t think Alteza reacted like this around die Konigin. If anything, it was an uncomfortable mix of being repelled from it and wanting to devour it.”
 
Obsidian sand crept up the edge of the building, getting close enough to Zangetsu’s feet that he took a few subconscious steps back. His hollow said, “The only time you were in contact with her you both wanted to rip each others throat out. Would you even be able to tell the difference?”
 
Ichigo thought about that, looking back at the churning dark, and decided. “Yes. This is different. It feels...desperate, and that doesn’t add up.”
 
“What makes you say that?” Zangetsu asked.
 
“Alteza reacted to protect me from die Konigin in the past. It wouldn’t even let me near Mictlan’s grave until there was a greater threat from Adaliz. In the face of a God with greater strength, it chose to defend.”
 
“So it makes sense it would go for the throat of the weaker God…” Zangetsu trailed off at Ichigo’s expression and demanded, “Why doesn’t that make sense?”
 
“The Gods aren’t reacting as if Sunyata is weaker, they’re not going for the throat, they’re lashing out as if they’re in their death throes. The last time Alteza took control, it was to remove that piece of its core, the Hogyoku, from this time. Orihime caused a lot of damage in a relatively short window, and once Alteza and die Konigin have a target, they do everything in their power to destroy it.”
 
A fact he was trying his hardest to ignore. He remembered the nightmares, the loss of control all too sharply. Instead this time, the sword wasn’t angled towards his own heart, but that of a friend. Ichigo continued, “That speaks to an advantage on Sunyata’s part, not weakness.”
 
“But their God is

gone

, how is that possible?”
 
“I don’t know,” Ichigo stressed. “If Reizei can completely disappear from my senses...maybe Sunyata isn’t gone.”
 
“Why would they disappear, what advantage is there if Sunyata is

winning

?”
 
Ichigo frowned. “It wouldn’t have always been that way.” He gestured at his soul. “What enemy is there to fight in here? Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

I just sit here and watch it happen. If Sunyata

isn’t there

, how do the Gods stop it?”
 
Zangetsu bared his teeth, scowling out at his mind. “Well shit.”

--- xxx ---
 
Coyote Starrk
 
Regurgitating everything Ichigo had told him to Harribel while they were in the garganta, they parted ways they were in Hueco Mundo. She went off to call a meeting with the arrancar, and he left to find Ichigo. She would have preferred Ichigo do it, or at the very least speak to him first, but the more time passed with arrancar wondering why their King had basically no reiatsu left, the more antsy the group would become.
 
He returned to find the visored sitting on the ground, legs crossed and not quite meditating. Grimmjow leaned against the wall a few feet away, talking, or arguing with Neliel; it was so difficult to tell the difference.
 
Once he was close enough, Starrk said, “That shinigami, Reizei? No one remembered him.”
 
Ichigo frowned. “No one? You’re sure?”
 
Starrk tossed Ichigo the phone back and said, “I’d like to think I can sniff out a liar, and I don’t think they were lying. Could he have maybe gone by a different name?”
 
“I don’t think so,” Ichigo said. He looked unsettled, asking, “What about Orihime?”
 
“Kisuke is going to send her tomorrow, like you said.” Starrk couldn’t say he felt bad for manipulating the shinigami, they’d done it plenty to them, it only felt just. He didn’t think that was why Ichigo was doing it, but Starrk certainly didn’t feel the need to complain.
 
Ichigo toyed with the phone in his hand, eyes cast someplace distant. He caught his thoughts drifting and looked back at Starrk. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”
 
Starrk answered, “Your King, isn’t that what Kings do? Give orders?”
 
“It wasn’t an order.”
 
“It could have been. I almost refused.” That wasn’t true, but he could pretend.
 
Ichigo snorted. “And if I have to force you to act on threat of death than I’d be a shitty King.”
 
Starrk smirked. “Bragging?”
 
Ichigo scoffed. “Hardly.”
 
And that was true. Ichigo had earned his loyalty.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
Starrk decided to stay as a deterrent to any frisky arrancar looking to make their way up in the world. He was better at hiding his reiatsu, but it still hovered around him in a heavy cloak, suffocating lesser hollows. It was as good as shutting and locking the door as any other level of security. Arrancar knew to avoid Starrk.
 
Grimmjow was still trying to ignore Neliel and her questions, but ultimately kept arguing with her, and Stark laid back to nap when Lilynette joined into the argument, tuning them out. It was nice to see the two together again, even if it resulted in the surrounding area becoming two decibels louder.
 
Ichigo stepped far enough away from his huddled group of arrancar that he wouldn’t be competing for auditory input and pulled up Kisuke’s number. He dialed, and this time when the shinigami picked up, it sounded like he was alone.
 
Kisuke spoke first, confirmed Ichigo’s thoughts. “I moved to my lab, Inoue is reasonably distressed. I’m not sure if you heard, but she’s been hearing Alteza and die Konigin for some time now.”
 
That was news, Ichigo hadn’t know that, at all. “

Shit

. Why didn’t she tell anyone?” He realized that was a stupid question even as he asked it. “You know what,” He let out a slow exhale, feeling the crushing weight of guilt If he hadn’t distanced himself so much...no regrets. “Nevermind.”
 
Kisuke gave him a moment to rearrange his thoughts, then he asked, “Would you mind continuing where you left off?”
 
Ichigo walled off his heart to that news, jumping back into the thick of it. “First of all, none of the shinigami remember Inoue’s father, but they

should

, he was a member of the Gotei 13. I saw it.”
 
There was a long pause as Kisuke worked out the implications of that statement. “You think he altered their memory?”
 
Ichigo said, “Sunyata rejects, as if it never was. How hard would it be to reject a

memory

?”
 
“Is that a genuine question?” Kisuke asked. When Ichigo didn’t answer, Kisuke carried on. “Completely erasing memories in a shinigami is very hard...but...with the aid of a God...yes, it's possible.”
 
”I don't know if Reizei ever got around to wiping Mictlan’s memory, but at the moment when I was sent back, Reizei wasn't strong enough to face him, he was actively running away. If he tried to go after Mictlan, it would have just ended in his death.”
 
“They fought?” Kisuke asked, perplexed.
 
“Uh…” Ichigo realized he had a lot he hadn’t explained. “Let me start at the beginning.”
 
An hour later and Ichigo had vomited everything of importance he could think of. Kisuke was silent through most of it, only occasionally asking probing questions. At the end of it he asked, “Can you explain to me your connection to Grimmjow?”
 
He hadn’t expected that question, shooting a glance over at the arrancar. Grimmjow noticed the attention, but was too far away to listen in, so it just resulted in an annoyed scowl. “He's like a filter; I pulled his soul into mine through Alteza. Inside Alteza is the impression of every host before me, of every hollow I turn into an arrancar. He's a hollow, he's naturally suited to forcing other souls down to stay dominant, so his soul prevents those vestiges from reaching my soul. I’m not a natural hollow, I can't do it unconsciously.”
 
“Ah,” Kisuke said, “That explains the psychopathic tendencies.”
 
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
 
“You were,” Kisuke said flatly.
 
Ichigo carried on, deciding maybe Grimmjow’s tension around him was very, very justified. “At the same time, he slows down the erosion of my soul by Alteza. His very presence in my soul helps by sharing the burden.” He added bitterly, “After that time jump, we’re both years ahead of where we should be.”
 
“How much time do you think you have left?”
 
It was a depressing question, and one Ichigo wasn’t so sure he could answer. “I’m not sure. That depends on how my soul equalizes once die Konigin recovers. Grimmjow though…” He glanced at the arrancar again, well aware the arrancar could feel his numbed heart twist. He was responsible for that, he was running out of time. Grimmjow knew he was a source of stress, and from the look on his face as he glared back at him, he despised it.
 
Kisuke said, “If I had known beforehand-”
 
“None of this is on you, Kisuke.” There was no sense lingering on it. There was no changing it, not at the moment.
 
Granting Ichigo an out, Kisuke attempted to summarize instead. “Alteza sent you back to the present, and the resulting volume of power it needed took a toll.”
 
“It did, our reiatsu was just high enough to keep us alive. Alteza sucked a big chunk of power out of the desert too. Our reiatsu is coming back, but slowly.”
 
“That sounds unpleasant.” Kisuke said.
 
“I don't recommend it,” Ichigo said dryly.
 
Kisuke asked, “Can Grimmjow use la sangre, or draw on the God's power in any way?”
 
“No,” Ichigo answered. “Why?”
 
Kisuke asked the question so Ichigo could come to the same conclusion he had. “Why could Orihime-san?”
 
That was a good question, one he already should have asked himself. Ichigo slapped a hand over his face in exasperated annoyance. “Fuck, it's so obvious, why didn't I notice?”
 
Kisuke chided, “It's hard to notice things when you're too close, and that's without mentioning getting your soul ripped up.”
 
Ichigo didn't take that to be much consolation, but he answered Kisuke’s question. “Inoue would be able to use Sunyata’s power

if

her father put a piece of his soul

in her

.”
 
Kisuke made a sharp sound of realization and filled in the blanks in a flat voice. “Her hair clips.”
 
“Yeah, her hair clips.” Ichigo agreed.
 
“What would that do to the integrity of her soul? What purpose does that serve to do that to her?” Kisuke didn’t ask in sympathy, but from the cold distance of the scientist he was.
 
“I'm not sure, I've never done it, or felt the need,” Ichigo said, his voice slipping into sarcasm, “but I don't think he did it out of the kindness of his heart.”
 
There was a pause, then Kisuke asked, “Is it too late to take her hair clips from her?”
 
Ichigo felt his stomach sink in realization. “If she can hear Alteza and die Konigin, there's no point, it's too late.”
 
“Wouldn't it make it worse to leave them in her possession?” Ichigo didn't answer, and after a moment, Kisuke guessed why. “You want to use her as bait.”

--- xxx ---

Kisuke called him the moment Orihime stepped into his handmade senkaimon. Ichigo wasn’t sure he trusted how stable that was, but Kisuke was sending Orihime with Ishida and Yoruichi, she wasn’t going to be alone.
 
With Orihime safely out of Alteza’s reach, he stepped through la sangre into Kisuke’s sitting room.
 
He knew the shinigami was expecting him, but he could still see the sudden tension in his shoulders, the wariness in his eyes. Ichigo tried not to sigh. “If I could turn it off, I would. You know I won’t hurt you.”
 
Kisuke looked caught, then shrugged stiffly. “Instinct is a powerful thing, Kurosaki-san. Where’s your shadow?”
 
“Grimmjow? In las Noches, his reiatsu is still too low.” Ichigo tensed, head snapping towards the front of the shop. “You

didn’t

.” They weren’t alone.
 
“I didn’t,” Kisuke emphasised. “Your sisters

insisted

, and your father is chaperoning.”
 
“Only

you

could have told them I’d be here,” Ichigo accused.
 
“True,” Kisuke said. “They pressed, and I didn’t lie.”
 
Ichigo felt a flicker of panic, gesturing to his chest, as if it wasn’t already clear he looked like a hollow. “They can’t see me like this,” he hissed.
 
“A word of advice?” Kisuke started, and he didn’t pause to let Ichigo answer his rhetorical question. “They can, and they want to. Karin stops by every day. She doesn’t always come in, sometimes she just walks straight by, but she never misses a day.”
 
He didn’t know that, how would he? He wasn’t there.
 
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Kisuke said. “But they’re right there. There’s no sense hiding this part of you from them, not now.”
 
“I scare

you

,” Ichigo pointed out.
 
“Yes, because I’m not family.”
 
Ichigo frowned. “Close enough, Kisuke.” The man stared at him a moment, trying to judge if he meant that, but must have given up with how hard it was to gauge emotion when he was hollowfied.
 
Kisuke was no more comfortable than Ichigo was when it came to divulging real emotion. He shrugged it off, toying with the cane in his hand. “Did you really want to miss out on this chance?”
 
The silence stretched while Kisuke waited for a real answer. Ichigo didn’t want to give him one, but he was being confronted with a choice, one he needed his heart to make, and it was just barely within his grasp. His family was within arms reach, but if he refused to see them, they wouldn’t.
 
“

Fine

,” Ichigo finally muttered, making sure Kisuke knew how irritated he was about it. He sat, because if he didn’t, he was going to run. His only consolation was that his hollow didn’t call him a coward out loud.
 
Very few things had ever scared him so much as judgement from the people he loved. He still remembered the look of abject fear on Orihime’s face when she'd seen him like this. She thought he was a monster, and she hadn’t been wrong.
 
Knowing he was a monster was one thing, seeing proof was another.
 
Kisuke left briefly to get his family, and Ichigo wasn’t sure he managed to keep breathing.
 
Either Kisuke briefed his sisters before they walked in, or he gave them some kind of warning, because they weren’t overly shocked to see that he looked different. Karin stood just in front of Yuzu, fear in their eyes, but that was more than that. This wasn’t the abject terror he’d seen in Inoue, this was just shock and unease that they would be stupid to ignore. He was family, but their instincts were good, they recognized he was a predator.
 
Ichigo met Isshin’s eyes just for a heartbeat, unsure exactly what emotion he was seeing there, but his father clearly wasn’t pleased.
 
Karin, unsurprisingly, broached the space between them first. She played it off like she wasn't scared, but it was almost impossible to hide that from his instincts. Ichigo stayed at his place on the floor, legs crossed, deciding he was less frightening when he wasn't looming over them. While Karin crossed the room he started lamely, “I know I haven't-”
 
“Isn't this a bit much?” Karin cut him off, poking the end of a horn.
 
Ichigo blinked in surprise at the sudden question, then made a face. “It's not like I got to choose.”
 
Yuzu was right behind her, leaning around her with a gasp, reaching out with a finger for the chasm in his chest. “Is that real? Doesn't that hurt?” He caught her hand before she got too close, but she was already preoccupied with his hair, squealing in delight. “Your hair is so

long

! Like mom’s, I’m so jealous.”
 
Ichigo protested, “I’m not a girl.” He was just glad he couldn't blush, this was more embarrassing than stressful. He suddenly wondered what he was worried about to begin with, he could practically feel the smugness radiating off of Kisuke.
 
Yuzu had circled around behind him, something he noted had his father tensing. He was acting like he’d let a couple of kittens into a cage with a wolf. To Isshin’s credit, he wasn’t far off, but Ichigo was keeping himself in check. He shot his father a look he hoped was reassuring, but what distracted when he felt Yuzu’s hands in his hair. He looked over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
 
“Braiding it,” she answered, her voice steely with focus. He didn’t have the heart to tell her not to, so he sat there and took it.
 
Karin was still preoccupied with his horns, asking, “What are they for?”
 
Ichigo snarked, “I dunno, what are horns usually for?”
 
She ignored him, thoughtful. “So you're part bull? Makes sense.”
 
“What the hell does that mean?” Ichigo snapped.
 
Kisuke answered her, the smug bastard not quite able to bite back a smirk. “Horns sometimes help focus a cero.”
 
“Oh,” Karin nodded like she understood, but it was clear that she didn’t. Without warning, she lifted up a foot to kick him in the face. He saw it coming a mile away, but he wasn’t sure

why

she was kicking him, so he let her do it. He winced when her foot connected even if it didn’t hurt, it was still a foot in the face.
 
“What did I say

not

to do,” Isshin snapped.
 
“And I said you were

wrong

!” Karin shouted over her shoulder.
 
Yuzu sunk a little lower behind Ichigo’s shoulders and said, “Please don’t fight.”
 
Clearly he was involved in an ongoing argument

about

him but not including him, and it was getting annoying. Karin hadn’t removed her foot either, so he removed it for her, taking her foot in his hand and shoving her just off balance enough that when he let her go she had to hop. Even then she still fell on her ass, shouting in annoyance, “

Ow

!”
 
“Says the girl that just

kicked me in the face

. What the fuck was that for?” Ichigo demanded.
 
Karin lurched to her feet, pointing at Isshin, but she kept shouting at Ichigo. “He won’t shut up about how you could hurt us, and I say he’s wrong.” She whirled to face their father and shouted, “Nothing happened!”
 
Well, that explained that. Ichigo wasn’t surprised, even if it stung to know his father just about

expected

him to be violent.
 
Isshin finally got a word in edgewise. “The first thing you do is tempt fate. You’re human and he’s-”
 
“Ichigo!” Karin finished. “He wouldn’t hurt us.” Her shoulders were squared like she wanted to fight, and Ichigo felt a stab of guilt. How many arguments had he been the center of without even realizing it? There was a weary feeling of repetition in their words, like they’d done this time and time again.
 
Yuzu added meekly, “He’s still Ichigo.”
 
Kisuke had put himself in the hall, but he stayed close because he had to; Ichigo was there to do business, not socialize, this was just a perk.
 
In the resulting silence, Ichigo sighed, too overdramatically to be fully serious. He turned his eyes on his father, leaning forward on his knees. “There’s nothing to fight about. If it’s on my terms, there’s nothing that could make me hurt them.”
 
“And if it isn’t on your terms?” Isshin felt the need to remind him. “Your life isn’t yours anymore.”
 
Ouch. Ichigo conceded that with a tilt of his head. “It isn’t, for many reasons, but Yuzu and Karin come first.

Always

. I wouldn’t let them this close if I wasn’t in control.”
 
“And how do you know for sure?” Isshin watched him with narrowed eyes. Ichigo couldn't imagine how skeptical Isshin would have been if he'd seen him at his worst.
 
Karin ground out. “It isn't up to you.”
 
Ichigo wasn't going to argue it one way for the other. He asked, “So what was it?” What line did he cross, what did his father deem to be too dangerous?
 
Isshin didn't answer. If his father wasn't going to, then he was still trying to protect his sister's image of the brother they remembered, and Ichigo couldn't say if it was for the sake of all his children, or just Yuzu and Karin. Instead, he said, “You can't even drop out of hollowfication.”
 
That was mostly true, and Ichigo could see what point he was trying to make. He was forced to concede. “I can't. Not currently.”
 
Isshin steeled his heart, Ichigo saw the distance in his eyes as he answered, “I trust

my son

, not whatever it is in you.”
 
Karin protested, “Oyaji!”
 
“That's fair,” Ichigo said. He couldn't blame his father. It

felt

unfair, but it was the only compromise Isshin’s heart could take.
 
“How is that fair?” Karin demanded, hands balled into fists.
 
It was Ichigo’s turn not to answer. He slowly got to his feet, mostly for Isshin’s benefit, and twisted to look down at Yuzu. He held a hand out and didn’t just help her up, he lifted her by her hand and set her on her feet.
 
Isshin asked, “So why are you here?” His eyes sild to Kisuke, and the ex-captain looked away, tugging on the brim of his hat. “Kisuke didn’t tell you we’d be here, and that isn’t like him.”
 
Ichigo could have sighed. Figured the man would throw him into the deep end and leave him to struggle, and figured his father would know. Glancing to Yuzu and Karin, he decided not to fully censor his answer. “He didn’t. He thought I should see you, in case this goes south.”
 
His family tensed, taking that to be very bad news.
 
Isshin asked, “In case

what

goes south?”
 
“I’m waiting. I can’t sense Inoue in the dangai, but Kisuke can tell me when she’s in Soul Society.”
 
Isshin asked, “You can’t wait in Soul Society? Nothing’s stopped you from going before.”
 
Ichigo glanced to Karin again, realizing this was just about the nail in the coffin. He sighed and said, “I can’t risk getting close to her.”
 
“

Why?

” Isshin pressed.
 
“I…” He paused, deciding that was wrong. “Alteza tried to kill her.”
 
His father's eyes widened “And you want me to trust you with your

sisters

?”
 
Ichigo expected as much, he tried not to let that sting, but it still hurt. He said, “The circumstances are different.”
 
“

How

?” Isshin argued, “She's a human girl, just like your sisters.”
 
Ichigo winced, pushing his hair back from his face. His hand caught on the loose braid Yuzu started and he stopped, leaving it be. He avoided looking at his sister's now, but he could feel their eyes on him, hanging on his every word. If anything changed their opinion if him, this would be it. “She isn't. Her soul contains a sizeable portion of Sunyata, the shinigami God.”
 
That stopped Isshin short, eyes wide. “You found it?”
 
“Yes and no. Her father is a shinigami, it's host, and he's clearly still alive. I sent Orihime to Soul Society in the hopes of both protecting her and drawing him out. She was a passive participant before, and now she isn’t. I can’t imagine Reizei will ignore her any more. If he needs her, the threat is too high.” If not...he could be putting her life on the line for nothing.
 
Karin asked quietly, “You used her as bait?”
 
Ichigo closed his eyes through a sigh. “Yes.”
 
“Does she know?” Karin asked.
 
Ichigo hesitated, then said, “Not really.” That answer unsettled her, and he knew it would. He tried not to let it get to him. Sometimes he had to do things he didn’t want to do, but he couldn’t think of a better way, especially with Ishida around.
 
Isshin ignored that and said, “Draw him out for what?” From his tone, his father was already connecting the dots, but he wanted to know for sure.
 
Glancing to Kisuke, then back, Ichigo said, “That depends...we have a theory.” Once he’d spilled everything to Kisuke, they both came to the same conclusion. Ichigo’s fears were slowly confirmed, piece by piece, and the truth settled in his stomach about as well as lye. “I’ve seen what happens when a host gets greedy, when they take too much power. It destroys them from the inside out, until they're nothing but a shadow.”
 
Karin asked, “Why does there need to be a host at all?”
 
Ichigo could hear the frustration in her voice, her anger at the thing that stole her brother away. He reached out and ruffled her hair, earning him an embarrassed flush as she duked to escape his hand. He hated it too, but he didn’t want her to worry for him or see him as nothing but a victim of circumstance.
 
He answered, “The Gods can’t act directly in the world without a host. They can indirectly influence their given world, but they can’t influence another God’s territory at all, not without a host.”
 
Kisuke added, “Their existence is complicated. The Gods are in a place between and outside of our worlds, but we’re still contained within theirs.”
 
Yuzu fidgeted and said, “I’m not sure I understand, but the Gods are why you don’t come see us anymore, right?”
 
Ichigo tried not to wince. “That’s the long and short of it.”
 
Tears gathered in her eyes. “You hate it.”
 
Ichigo felt his heart, no matter how distance, falter at the sight of those tears. Yuzu was always perceptive, she only feigned ignorance to try to keep everyone happy, and it was failing her. He crouched before her and said, “Hey, don’t cry, not for me.” He forced a smile, but it wasn’t a false one. “You’re right, I hate it,” he admitted, “but it’s necessary, and it keeps you safe.”
 
Yuzu sniffed, then fell into his chest in a tight embrace. He could feel Isshin’s conflict in his silence, but he said nothing to stop her. He let her cry, no less happy about it than before, but he knew she needed it. He held her and kept talking, aware he was losing time. “The amount of power I siphon from Alteza or die Konigin is directly dependent on how quickly and how much power I can handle. Mictlan and Adaliz both circumvented this by giving up more and more of their soul in exchange for containing more power in their body on reserve.”
 
Isshin came to the same conclusion Ichigo had. “You think this host did the same thing? Wouldn't that kill him?”
 
“Not right away, it isn't like flipping a switch, it's gradual. The same thing is happening to me, but in a passive way, because I’m not facilitating it. No one outside of a host can sense the Gods, so it's hard to judge

when

Sunyata disappeared. It probably didn't happen all at once, but the creation of the Soul King is a notable marker.”
 
“The Soul King...that you destroyed,” Isshin pointed out.
 
Ichigo loosened his grip on Yuzu when she leaned back, wiping the tears from her face. He dismissed Isshin’s comment and said, “It needed to be, there would be no more Quincy if I didn’t.” He carried on, “When I met Reizei, he acted like the other hosts, desperate to protect their world. He's letting Soul Society fall to ruin, he has been for decades. I don't understand his motivation, and that makes him unpredictable. The one thing we have over him is his daughter.”
 
Isshin questioned, “You met him? When?”
 
Ichigo shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, and it’s a long story, but the point of this is to kill him.”
 
Isshin asked, “Why?”
 
Ichigo dodged the question. “Because I think the alternative is that he kills me.”
 
Isshin narrowed his eyes. “Your reiatsu is abysmal, why take this risk?”
 
“I don’t think I have a choice,” Ichigo stressed. He glanced back over to Kisuke, and the shinigami shook his head. He looked back at his father and said, “I’m running out of time, but it was nice to see you.”
 
“

Nice

,” Karin hissed, finally breaking her silence. “It’s

nice

?! You could die!”
 
Yuzu pushed away just so she could look him in the eye. She said, “Why do you have to go?”
 
He straightened, steeling his resolve. “I might be using Inoue as bait, but I’m also doing this to try to save her. She’s a target for Alteza and die Konigin now, Reizei won’t ignore that.” He was hoping he wouldn’t, and hoping he would, but there was no sense voicing those insecurities. There might not be a better chance to lure him out.
 
Even if Alteza didn’t take control, and even if somehow Alteza wouldn’t drag Ichigo into the Living World, eventually die Konigin would equalize in his soul, and the same problem would present itself. He remembered all too well what it was like to lose control to the Gods and frankly, he was terrified, for her and for himself. He’d made a point not to sleep, just in case Alteza took control.

Just in case

.
 
Maybe he was a coward for that, but if Yuzu could pick up on that, then he wasn’t hiding it as well as he hoped.
 
At the same time, he was objectively weak, and he thought Reizei would know that. This could just be a trap to lure him into Soul Society. Two birds with one stone, or in this case, hosts. Reizei had been there all this time. Maybe he had hoped Adaliz and Mictlan would destroy themselves, but now Ichigo had taken both of their place. Of everyone alive in the present, Reizei knew the timeline best. It was entirely possible he was waiting for the moment Orihime sent him back, fingers crossed Ichigo died in the past. That not being the case, now he was weak, and trapped between a rock and a hard place.
 
If it turned out to be a trap, then what else was he good for than running straight into those traps and demolishing them?

“Shitty logic, King.”

‘As if we’ve ever had the upper hand.’

Ichigo saw the first sign of real fear in his fathers eyes, and he wished he hadn’t. Isshin said, “Son, this is suicide.” If there was more time, Ichigo knew his father wouldn’t have dared say that in front Yuzu and Karin, but there was no time left for tact.
 
This was why he hated shit like this. There was guilt and pain and regret, and even dulled by the distance from his heart, it was still unpleasant. Ichigo forced a smile. “That doesn’t sound like you, oyaji.”
 
“

Ichigo

,” Isshin insisted.
 
Ichigo’s smile faltered at the waver in his father's voice. He knew this was Isshin's nightmare, watching his son put himself closer and closer to death, and he hated that he had to do it to him. “There's no one else, I'm sorry.”
 
“Ichigo,” Kisuke spoke urgently from the corner.
 
Karin grabbed his arm, saying nothing, but the tears in her eyes showed all that she couldn't say. It hit him like a punch in the gut. He smiled at her and said, “Be brave. I'll win.”
 
“I don't care about that,” Karin cried, “promise to come back!”
 
That was one thing he couldn't promise. He gave her a sad smile and pulled her into a hug. She didn't resist, she melted against him with a muffled sob. He felt Yuzu wrap her arms around him from behind, and he let them have that moment. He refused to believe this was goodbye, but if it was...he wouldn’t take this from them.
 
Ichigo met Isshin’s eyes, unprepared for the naked fear and pain he saw reflected there. In that moment he wasn’t a shinigami, or a doctor, he was just his father.
 
This time when Ichigo smiled, it was real, and skewed by sadness. “Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.”
 
Without another word, he pulled himself through la sangre to Soul Society. He didn’t think his heart would be able to take it.

--- xxx ---
 
Orihime Inoue
 
Every step Inoue took in the dangai felt stiff and heavy. This was for the best, wasn’t? So why did she feel nothing but dread? It wasn’t that she was missing school, or that she was leaving Tatsuki and Chad and her friends behind, but that she was going closer to the thing haunting her soul. Even Yoruichi was quiet, sneaking glances at her from the corner of her eye.
 
The way everyone looked at her, it was like she was a bomb with a hidden timer. There was less fear, but it was similar to the way people looked at Kurosaki. Now she understood why he looked so lonely.
 
She tried to explain it to Ishida. The creeping terror, the fear that her soul wasn’t her own anymore. He didn’t understand, he was having a hard enough time coming to terms with the fact she was also a shinigami. He’d tried to cut himself off from all of that, and now he was pulled back into it again.
 
They stepped foot outside of the dangai onto a paved path just before the gate surrounding Seireitei. The whispers and howls were suddenly louder, and Inoue found her hand tightening on Ishida’s. “Can you hear that?”
 
He squeezed her hand back and assured her. “Yes.”
 
There were five shinigami before the gate waiting for them. Two were captains, and the other three were lieutenants. She knew Renji and Byakuya, but she only knew Soifon by name, and her lieutenant by sight.
 
A chill raced up Inoue’s spine and she lurched back from Ishida, snapping, “Don’t touch me!” She didn’t

see anything

, but every nerve in her body screamed ‘danger.’
 
Yoruichi took ahold of Ishida’s shoulder and demanded answers. “

Inoue

.”
 
A slow, impressed whistle just behind her made Inoue stiffen, eyes widening in fear. “Impressive, musume. That should have severed his arm.”
 
She slowly turned, and saw nothing but a ripple in space, a distortion of something that should not be.
 
“Inoue!” Ishida shouted. His voice was close, loud, so why did it feel so far away?
 
“Stay back,” she said. She sucked in a sharp breath as it slowly shimmered into a tighter form, something more resembling a person. His eyes stared into her, and

through

her, making her take a small step back. He sighed. “Tsk, be still, or you might lose some fingers.”
 
The captains moved to attack, she could hear them shout their sword release, and without looking he raised his hand.
 
She spun and screamed, “No!”
 
She heard him snap, and Soifon was

gone

. Just...gone, like she never was.
 
Inoue gasped, tears gathering in her eyes, and her father spoke to the shinigami without fear. “Stay where you are.” They stopped short, but held their swords ready, the shock on their face visible even from where she stood.
 
Inoue asked, voice trembling, “What do you want?”
 
Darkness swirled in her vision, and Ichigo was suddenly before her. Inoue had never seen that look in his eyes before. There was violence and murder there, something she thought, for a moment, was directed at her. She hadn’t ever seen that look in his eyes before, but once she realized he was looking just over her shoulder, it filled her with a small sense of hope.
 
She heard real joy in his voice, lingering on every syllable as if he could taste them. “It’s been a while, Kurosaki Ichigo.”
 
Kurosaki answered blithely, “Feels like it was only yesterday.”
 
Her father grabbed her arm, startling a sob out of her. That emptiness she felt was suddenly magnified, and she couldn’t do anything but tremble in the presence of something colossal, and within it a silence so immense, she would have screamed to break it, if her voice had any strength left to scream. Her legs buckled, but his grip on her arm was like iron.
 
Her father laughed and said, “Nothing forces a soul to evolve faster than the fear of termination. I can thank you for that, Kurosaki. Or should I thank

God

?” He laughed, like such a thing was unthinkable.
 
He took the hair clips from her hair, and it cascaded down into her face, obscuring her vision. He crushed them in his hand, turning them into dust.
 
“Give Inoue to me,” Kurosaki snarled.
 
“Or what?” Reizei drawled. “Or what, Kurosaki, OR WHAT?!” His scream made Inoue flinch, her eyes locked on Kurosaki’s. “Or what?” he said it again, this time much softer.
 
HELP ME. She screamed the words in her heart, words she was too terrified to say. How was that fair to beg for help from a problem she was at the center of? The one thing she had, that she wanted to use to drag herself up from being such a burden, and it wasn’t hers.
 
Ichigo drew both swords, and Reizei let him. The visored held them out before him and said simply. “Bankai.” His reiatsu flooded the area, heavy and dark, but it wasn’t enough. Inoue felt the monster inside her father, awake in his soul, in hers.

It wasn’t enough

.
 
Reizei mused, “I never got to thank you for saving my life. Where do you want to die, Kurosaki? I can grant you that.”
 
Ichigo ignored him and said, “I thought by now your brains would be nothing but mush, you’re surprisingly coherent.”
 
Inoue could practically hear Reizei’s smile. “Thank you for noticing, but you can thank my daughter for that. Her mind is so

painfully normal

, it brought back all sorts of emotions and motivation.”
 
One of the captains acted, flower petals surging in her vision. They stopped short of Reizei, on a shield none of them could see. Inoue felt it, it was there, a gap in space, just as she felt the energy surge up Byakuya’s arm, denying his wrist, his bones, his flesh.
 
She threw her hand out, past the shield Reizei had erected, and screamed, “I REJECT!”
 
Her shield clashed with Reizei’s, fighting to undo the reality Reizei wanted. Byakuya was left standing whole, but only just.
 
Reizei let her have that victory, she felt it in the lack of resistance. His tone was eerily devoid of emotion. “It doesn’t matter.”
 
Her father let her go, and while she was unsure why, she didn’t waste the opportunity. She staggered, then threw herself at Ishida, collapsing into his arms. Reizei said, “They say death is the great equalizer…”
 
Ichigo disappeared from her line of sight, and a sudden shockwave of power sent her and Ishida sliding back into Yoruichi’s shins. She squeezed her eyes shut, sensing the clash behind her, but the monster in her soul didn’t waver.
 
“We both know that’s a load of shit!” Reizei shouted.
 
Suddenly space tore, and she and Ishida were thrown down into sand. Darkness enveloped her vision, so pure and definite she thought for an instant she’d gone blind. All she could hear was the desperate gasp of her breath, shallow and fast like a hunted thing. It didn’t sound like her at all, it couldn’t be her, she sounded so small.
 
Ishida held her, his breath clashing against hers in quick pants. She pushed herself upright off what felt like broken glass against her palms, but hissed like sand.
 
Reizei’s voice fell flat in the dark. “Really, Kurosaki?

I am Sunyata,

it makes no difference

where

we are, within the dreams of Gods or outside of them, I will annihilate you.”
 
In her soul, Sunyata felt almost...eager. She gagged, twisting in Ishida’s arms to throw up. It kept getting worse, it spread like ice, an ache that crept into her soul, a violation of a place no one was meant to go, and it pulled her towards oblivion with the disregard of a force of nature.
 
“Inoue?” Ishida ventured softly.
 
Reizei chuckled, and purred, “Take heart, in the void, there is no such thing as

fair, or good, or evil

. The one cold truth is entropy. It’s a long, painful road, our universe has only just gotten started.”
 
Inoue heard her father’s feet slide against sand, moving closer to Kurosaki. There was a need present in his voice that shook Inoue to her core. “I can end it.”
 
Inoue reached up for Ishida’s face, her fingers sliding up over his jaw to his cheek. She whispered, “Ishida, he’s using me, he

needs

me.”
 
Kurosaki’s voice was cold and distant. “I’ll wake them up.”
 
Reizei’s tone was flippant. “Do it, it doesn’t matter.”
 
Ishida reached up for her face, his hand pressing her hair to her cheek. It tickled her skin, she was surprised she noticed when her soul was in such agony. Ishida murmured, “No, no, no, Inoue, don’t ask, please don’t ask.”
 
“Shhh, listen.” She reached up around to the back of his head, his skin damp with sweat. “Ishida, he needs my soul, he’s using it for that thing, that monster. He needs me for my

mind

, I have a

living

soul.”
 
“No, no, no, Kurosaki will kill him.” The desperation weighing down his voice broke her heart, tears streaking down her face.
 
Her father was right, none of this was fair.
 
“He won’t.” Her voice broke even as she said it. “I know Kurosaki can feel it too, Sunyata is

here

, its

in

me, Ishida, and I’m

not going to be me

. Do you understand?”
 
She could feel the ripple of power as Ichigo defended against Reizei, but she tuned it out. Ishida whispered, “Inoue...I can’t.”
 
“You can,” she promised gently, her voice losing strength as her tears fell. She nodded, convincing both of them. “You can.”
 
Her hands trembled as she took his hand in hers. Ichigo couldn’t win without help, he couldn’t do it if Reizei had another soul to take the damage for him.
 
She lifted Ishida’s hand to her heart, forcing an edge of resolve into her voice. She was terrified, but she kept it from her voice. “Please, Ishida.”
 
His hand shook, cold against her skin. What she was asking of him wasn’t fair, but she felt her opportunity slipping away. Ishida was only there by chance, Reizei was occupied with Ichigo. There wouldn’t be another chance. She tasted salt when she spoke. “Do it.”
 
--- xxx ---
 
Translations
:

¿Dónde está kurosaki? : Where is Kurosaki?

En las Noches. Está cansado y frustrado, pero está bien. : In las Noches. He’s tired and frustrated, but he’s fine.

¿Te sientes mejor? : Feeling better?

Vete a tomar por culo, estoy bien : Fuck off, I’m fine

Puedes sostener tu lengua por

diez minutos, por favor

: can you hold your tongue for ten minutes, please.

El comenzó : He started it
 
Oyaji: old man

Musume: daughter
 
I forgot about Tousen lololol An Orihime almost accidently is a character now oooooops
 
Because I like things to make sense, the reason Ichigo can cut through Ulquiorra’s hierro with low reiatsu is because he might have less of it, but his reiatsu is still inherently denser. Therefore Ichigo can still cut Ulquiorra, and Ulquiorra would have a shot at cutting Ichigo so long as Ichigo’s reiatsu is that low. Also fairly certain his high speed regen is only for his final release, the same way Ichigo wouldn’t have high speed regen just with a mask.
 
Who else remembered that Mictlan’s mask fragment was black? *le gasp* foreshadowing or some shit i tried.
 
Thanks for reading!
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- xxx ---

She lifted Ishida’s hand to her heart, forcing an edge of resolve into her voice. She was terrified, but she kept it from her voice. “Please, Ishida.”

His hand shook, cold against her skin. What she was asking of him wasn’t fair, but she felt her opportunity slipping away. Ishida was only there by chance, Reizei was occupied with Ichigo. There wouldn’t be another chance. She tasted salt when she spoke. “Do it.”

Uryuu Ishida
 
Inoue was asking too much of him, this was a line he couldn’t cross...but he had to. He could hear her pain in her voice, it tightened his chest and made it hard to breath. He gathered reishi from the air, his reiatsu searing along the familiar but now unused paths in his body. It was a pain that could very easily not exist had Ichigo not helped heal him. For what? To kill the only person he loved?
 
A blue glow danced over his fingertips, dusting Inoue’s wet cheeks in cool light. She slowly let his hand go, a wobbly smile on her lips. “Ishida…” Her voice sounded so small, vulnerable, and he was gathering power in his hand to

hurt

her. Kill her…
 
His stomach flipped, his insides twisting in disgust. He couldn’t do this, he

couldn’t

. She was everything to him.
 
He drew his arm back, that tiny bloom of light surging as he drew back his bow, an arrow leveled at her heart. His vision blurred and he clenched his teeth through a sob. He memorized the lines of her face, but was distracted by the gleam of blue in her eyes. It shouldn’t be this way.
 
The tip of his reishi arrow trembling under the strain. He whispered, “I love you.” She smiled, she didn’t need to repeat the words, he saw it in her eyes. He saw her love, her fear, her sympathy, her pain.
 
He let his arrow go.
 
They both gasped, that moment of finality sinking into both of their hearts. His arrow streaked across the sand, cutting straight through her heart into the dark. The light from his reiatsu faded from her eyes, her smile falling slack on her face. She fell forward against his chest, and he caught her in his arms, agony tightening his heart.
 
He was left in the dark, her blood hot and wet on his chest, his hands. He held her tight and screamed and screamed.
 
It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she wasn’t supposed to die.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 
He saw the streak of blue first, then he heard Ishida’s scream, not immediately comprehending what had happened. That was a scream he recognized, one of anguish and despair. It had been years since he’d heard anything like it, and it grated against his heart in alarm.
 
No, no, no, he didn’t...
 
Reizei abruptly stopped moving, giving Ichigo a crucial moment to get his bearings. He sensed only one life beyond Reizei...Ishida. Oh God...Ishida.
 
He stared in the Quincy’s direction, eyes wide. She couldn’t be gone, she couldn’t be...yet...her reiatsu faded like a snuffed candle, all he could feel was the echo of her life. She was

gone

.

“King, don’t panic.”

She’s dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead-

“

KING! She did it for you!

”
 
His hollow was right. He was losing this fight, he was desperate, and he couldn't waste the opportunity she'd given him.
 
He couldn’t see Reizei, but he could sense him clearly enough that he didn’t need to. He stepped into sonido, crossing the space between him and his target in an instant, and the other host didn’t even try to avoid his attack. His Zanpakuto slammed through Reizei’s chest. It felt like striking through a gossamer sheet only to find he’d struck a mountain.
 
It was the first attack that had struck home, and despite the darkness coating his sword, Reizei’s very being clashed against la sangre, his reiatsu. Even with a sword through his core, he was rejecting his own death, and his Zanpakuto along with it.
 
He questioned, nervous.

‘Zangetsu?’

“I can take it. Keep using la sangre.”

He twisted Zangetsu, letting la sangre surge through him in a torrent into Reizei. It touched Reizei’s soul and was no more, it barely left a dent. Ichigo wasn’t even sure if he could call Reizei a real soul. He was a God incarnate; he was an abyss. All Ichigo saw when he looked into his soul was Sunyata.

Nothing

waited for him there.
 
Any inflection that had been present in Reizei’s voice was gone now, his tone flat in a whisper that sounded more like the ghost of a memory than spoken words. “It doesn’t matter...doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t-”
 
“Shut up!” That did nothing, the host kept muttering to himself, lost in a loop in the fragments of his mind. Without Inoue’s mind to ground him, his reason was lost.
 
Ichigo had his chance, but it wasn’t enough to kill him. He was

so close to failure

. Time was a fickle thing for the Gods, but eventually Sunyata would move. Reizei’s salvaged personality was no longer strong enough to hold it back, but it was present enough to drive it.
 
Sunyata would follow its nature and Reizei’s twisted desires and everything would disappear.
 
Feeling the pull of abyss on his own soul, though the agony of Alteza struggling against Sunyata, Ichigo saw what it really was. It was the Beginning and the End and Everything. It was the Balance Alteza and die Konigin wouldn’t shut up about, it was the Balance they had needed, but Reizei had been blinded by the End.
 
Sunyata on its own wasn’t a threat, but twisted by Reizei’s heart, it was. He could feel it, and he could feel the tattered echo of something else in the chasm he’d ripped through Reizei’s soul. It was a spark of potential in that void of nothing, the realization that the only place to go from nothing, was something. It felt like hope.
 
Tears stung his eyes when he realized what he was sensing. “Inoue…” A reflection of her heart was there, buying him even more time, time he couldn’t afford to waste.
 
He reached out his senses for Ishida and the hum of Inoue’s spent life and sent them both away. Neither would have been there if it wasn’t for Reizei, but now they were both in the living world, away from all of this, where they should have stayed. Reizei wasn't the only one to blame here, killing Adaliz made the living world his as much as Hueco Mundo. He’d already failed Inoue, he couldn’t fail everyone else. He couldn’t afford to lose.
 
Alteza slumbered all around him, its presence hung in the air like humidity before a storm. It tasted of instinct, darkness, rage and regret.
 
He’d threatened to wake up the Gods, but now he had to follow through with it. He hadn’t been sure that he could, but standing here now with Alteza running strong in his soul, having already been in the grip of waking God, he knew that he could.
 
Sinking his awareness into the sand at his feet, Ichigo closed his eyes, focusing on the sands in his inner world. Both were so similar, the feeling was hard to distinguish. The sand in this world was of another, different realm; something dense and real.
 
The only thing anchoring him to the reality he stood within was his grip on Zangetsu’s hilt, and the pain of the void tearing at his soul, so eager to deny his existence.
 
The sand shifted slightly beneath his feet and he felt it respond in his mind in tandem. He felt a solid, steady heartbeat like distant thunder ring through his bones and his soul.

Wake up you sonovabitch

Wake up

WAKE

UP

Whispers started in the silence, sharp enough to make him wince. It wasn’t sound he heard, the words resounded in his soul, in the air he breathed, if it was air at all. They slowly grew in volume, overwhelming Reizei’s monotone repetitions.
 
He called.
 
Alteza answered.

--- xxx ---
 
Abarai Renji
 
He'd spent his whole life aspiring to be a captain, to finally stand at the top and be strong, respected. Distantly, he knew those two things weren't mutually exclusive, but what he saw in Kuchiki Byakuya had always made him envious.
 
His taicho was the pinnacle of something he could never have, it just wasn't who Renji was. He was a stray given a sword and a purpose. He knew he fought like hellfire, but he wasn't a leader.
 
Soifon was gone in an instant, and then that bastard went after Byakuya. He felt so painfully helpless as he stood there and watched his taicho torn undone with nothing but a thought. It shook his foundation in a way that didn’t seem rational. This was the thing that scared him? Out of all of this horseshit, it was

this

.
 
That human girl, Orihime, just barely saved him, and only because that monster lost interest.  
 
He knew Kurosaki was stronger than all of them, he was scary as all hell, but now Renji truly understood the difference between someone who had power and someone who

used

it.
 
This thing was standing against Kurosaki without fear. He wasn't even sure that thing could understand fear, he talked like an absolute madman. By comparison, Kurosaki could be considered docile.
 
The shock from Kurosaki's attack sent him sliding back on his heels, and when he regained his balance, the four abruptly disappeared in a twist of darkness and space, taken someplace none of them could follow.
 
What followed was sudden, deafening stillness, broken up only by the panting of his own breath. The whispers and howling were silenced, and that abomination left behind a scar in his wake, a warped twist of nothingness his eyes couldn’t quite focus on.
 
Renji got a grip and ran to Byakuya’s side, his stomach clenching in sympathy when he saw the mangled mess that was left of Byakuya’s arm. He was whole, he was alive, but he could see ribbons of muscle beneath flesh that had been stripped away. “Taicho…”
 
“I am fine,” Byakuya grit out. He trembled in pain, but he was still standing, and Renji had no doubt he would be until he physically couldn’t any longer.
 
Renji followed Byakuya's glare to the space the host had occupied. That nothingness began to spread, crawling through the air and the ground like sluggish lightning. It reached white sand, curdled against it, then encroached on it until that too was gone.
 
Byakuya shifted his feet, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. He called over to the woman. “Yoruichi. You're fastest, spread word to evacuate Seireitei.”
 
Renji saw that shock had drained the color from her face, but she had a better grip than he or Byakuya did. In a burst of shunpo he couldn't even track, she was gone, reishi swirling in the space she used to occupy.
 
Byakuya was left to stagger back a step, his eyes locked warily on the anomaly in space. His bankai shattered, returning to a sealed zanpakuto, and Renji finally saw the extent of the damage. His sword stopped less than midway to the tip, the petals of his bankai simply obliterated by whatever this creeping void was.
 
Byakuya sheathed his broken sword, cutting off his view of it, and he realized there was nothing left to fight. Renji dropped out of shikai and sheathed his own sword, feeling decidedly like he’d failed. There was losing, and then there was showing up only to be completely useless.
 
“Where is she?” Omaeda sounded like he was in denial, his tone confused.
 
Renji took a step closer to Byakuya in concern, calling back. “She’s dead...dumbass.” His voice cracked, a waver there that made it hard for him to believe that was his voice.
 
Alarm bells sounded in Seireitei, ringing eerily in the silence. A shiver crawled over his arms and shoulders, that nothingness uncomfortably closer, and it was moving faster. “Taicho, we need to go.”
 
“I am aware,” Byakuya said, his tone clipped in pain. He turned, and Renji only noticed the blood that had pooled around his foot when he stepped out of it. Before he could ask how he was, Byakuya had blurred into shunpo.
 
Renji spun, catching the tail end of his captain staggering to catch himself against the West gate. He stepped into shunpo himself, stopping directly before Omaeda. “We have to go, fukutaicho.”
 
Omaeda was still staring into the empty space where Soifon had been. There was nothing left behind, no proof she’d even existed. Omaeda muttered, “She can’t be-”
 
“She’s gone!” Renji shouted. There was no time to mourn or panic. “Go! Or did you forget your duty already?” That stopped Omaeda’s thoughts short, his eyes finally turning towards Renji. He shouted again, “Go, you big idiot, or you’ll die!”
 
That finally got him moving, and he turned and ran towards the gate. Renji followed after in shunpo, and once he'd caught up to Byakuya, his taicho turned to move again, his right side sluggish from the damage. That he was managing such flawless shunpo with only one functioning leg was impressive, but Renji wasn't fooled. “Kuchiki-taicho, you need to see the fourth.”
 
“By the time I cross Seireitei, they should have been evacuated, it's a waste of time.” Byakuya looked back outside the gates and said, “It appears to be spreading indiscriminately. Get ahead of it in the Rukongai and spread word.”
 
Renji hadn’t forgotten, but it hadn’t occurred to him somehow that a problem faced by Seireitei could have such devastating effects on Soul Society as a whole. He barked at Omaeda, “

Try

to keep up with him.” The bigger man took offense to that, but it was only a fact that Byakuya would outpace him, even injured.
 
He turned and ran, giving the void a wide berth. He saw what it did to Byakuya, to Soifon...he didn’t want to see anyone else fall to it.
 
He ran into the Rukongai, the people there having scattered further away once they’d stepped outside the gates earlier. That was coming in handy now as he shouted in warning, banging on doors to get them to come out. It didn’t fucking help that they were scared of shinigami, a fact he found a bit of shame in, but the alarm in his voice and the sudden change in atmosphere was enough to incite enough panic that people started to run.
 
He grabbed a kid like a sack of rice and kept bellowing his warning. He could feel that nothingness creeping up on him, feeling a twist of pain when he noticed there were older people here, people that couldn’t run.
 
He ignored the squirming in his stomach and kept running, focused on his task, but there was only one of him, and this was nothing but a desperate gesture. He didn’t know what happened to a soul that was annihilated by this void, but he wanted to live, and he wanted to save as many people as he could.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Urahara Kisuke
 
He didn't regret forcing Ichigo into an unpleasant situation. The visored hated sharing his burdens and problems, especially with those he loved. Normally he tried to respect people’s boundaries, but he couldn’t help meddling in people’s lives when he saw a problem that needed fixing. He could usually leave people to their own devices, but Ichigo was sorely lacking in perspective. Either by denial or design he chose not to believe this could be the end of the line.
 
Honestly, Kisuke hoped it wasn’t. Right now Ichigo was running hot on Alteza’s side of the fence, which was both a blessing and a curse. His best bet would be to draw him into Alteza’s reality, to fight on his own turf.
 
The sand he tested led to...interesting results. It was entirely different from the sand in Hueco Mundo. It wasn’t sand either, but it was decidedly different. In the way that DNA could be both similar and different.The sands in Hueco Mundo were ancient, millenia old, and yet seemed to be organic. The same thing could be said for the black sands, although this was untouched by time. Pure. For all he knew, it

did

exist outside time as they knew it.
 
He'd never asked Ichigo if he'd ever managed to find die Konigin’s reality, but Kisuke assumed that knowledge was buried in the visored’s soul alongside the knowledge that had helped him to heal Uryuu.
 
With Ichigo gone, he opened a laptop and sat, ignoring the family drama going on in his sitting room. He was monitoring the dimensions, and sadly he only had sensors in Karakura, Hokkaido, from a disappointing vacation, and the locations Neliel had frequented in Europe.
 
He noticed Isshin hanging over his shoulder, and he doubted the shinigami had any real idea what he was looking at. He counted down the seconds in his head until Isshin asked, “What are you doing?”
 
“I'm looking for fallout.” Or some sign Kurosaki was losing. Facing a corporeal God was the worst case scenario, especially when he was running at under 50% capacity. That was a guess, but an educated one. Kisuke wasn’t sure if it was a well executed plan on behalf of Sunyata’s host, or simply coincidence that led them to this point.
 
Kisuke tapped a finger on the laptop, fairly certain that that bloom of black on his geological map would show, and that it was only a matter of time. He still held on to some false hope that Kurosaki might get ahead of this thing, but it was a fool’s hope. He’d considered taking his sisters to hide in the dangai, but with a clash on this scale, it might simply cease to exist.
 
His stomach sank when he saw the black begin to spread from a pinprick on the map, coordinates on his screen rapidly accelerating through numbers. Isshin spoke, but he was stuck in his own head, thinking.
 
He shut the screen and abruptly stood, not allowing himself to fear for Yoruichi’s safety. She would be fine, she could take care of herself.
 
It served a dual purpose to gather Kurosaki’s family up. Isshin was overprotective as all hell, but now he was somewhat prepared, and he had Kisuke as a guide. He didn’t even think Ichigo expected as much fallout as Kisuke believed they would get.
 
Locking eyes with Isshin, he glanced down at Yuzu. He had his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. She was terrified, more than she should be. Her sense for such things was

very

acute, if she could pick up on the fear he’d tried so hard to bottle. He looked back up to Isshin’s eyes and said, “Karakura has always been a hot spot for reishi. We need to go.”
 
Kisuke pulled out a phone and called Ryuken, giving him only the briefest and most basic of instruction when he picked up. “Leave.” Ryuken had more brains than sense, he would know what to do with that.
 
Flipping the phone shut, he made for the front of the shop, and Isshin followed, Yuzu and Karin close behind him. His friend ventured, “Kisuke?”
 
Kisuke wasn’t sure what he could tell his friend without scaring the girls anymore than they already were. . “Sunyata is a balancer, but also the God of the void. Intentionally or otherwise, this host is eroding reality.”
 
Once they were in the courtyard, Kisuke turned and glanced up at the sky. Tendrils like lightning distorted the sky, sinking into the building beside his, and reaching down for the roof of his tiny shop. Figured, it would start in areas of such dense reishi. Tessai, Ginta, and Ururu were waiting near the front for instruction, and for once, the fiery redhead had very little to say. “We have to go.”
 
Karin asked, “What is that?”
 
“Nothing good,” Kisuke answered. He turned to leave and Isshin called after him. “You’re just

leaving

?”
 
Kisuke paused and looked back, watching a creeping tendril sink into the roof of his house, and that part of it simply vanished. Tessai put a hand on Isshin’s shoulder as he passed him, from one old colleague to another, reassuring him this was the best course of action.
 
Kisuke said, “I’m certainly not going to stay and then die.” He kept walking, and this time they all kept pace. He took out his phone, checking his sensors again and focused on what he could do, not on what he couldn’t.
 
He heard Ururu cry, and Ginta’s half-hearted attempt to cheer her up, which consisted of some awkward insults and boasting; such was the repertoire of young boys. Yuzu, of all people gave her some words of encouragement. Isshin might have his doubts about being a parent, but he raised some pretty good kids.
 
By comparison, Kisuke thought he’d done a terrible job. His orphans weren’t

worse

off, but weren’t much better. He wasn’t a father figure by any stretch of the imagination; he was a scientist, a warden, a captain, a showman at times, but never nurturing. Ururu was still unbelievably shy, Ginta was still insufferable, but they both had a good heart.
 
Maybe he hadn’t failed, if the pair were broken up about the house at all. In all reality, it was the closest thing to a home they’d ever had, so perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised they were upset.
 
Isshin stood a bit closer behind him, asking, “Ichigo is fighting

this

? It doesn’t feel like anything.”
 
“That’s because it

is

nothing,” Kisuke said. He lowered his voice and said, “If your son fails...nothing will be left.”

--- xxx ---
 
Grimmjow
 
“Now what’s happening?” Neliel asked.
 
“I dunno, he’s still upset,” Grimmjow said.
 
“So…” Neliel started. “He’s sad?”
 
Grimmjow blew her off. “

Sure

, he’s sad.”
 
Doubling as a play by play announcer wasn’t his idea of a good time. Especially when Kurosaki’s emotions were often distant and amorphous. Sensing Alteza was much easier and straight forward, but his perception of it was about as useful as pointing at the ocean and proclaiming there was indeed an ocean.
 
He also wasn’t thrilled about being left behind. He knew why Kurosaki did it. At the moment he was about as useful as a damp rag. His reiatsu wasn’t fully recovered, even after hours spent doing nothing but waiting. Something about having the reiatsu sucked out of him by a monster made it take a hell of a long time coming back.
 
Even if he’d been on his A game, Grimmjow had a feeling Kurosaki would have left him behind anyway. The visored was always like that when it came to God business. Unless he had absolutely no choice on the matter. Calling him on his bullshit was about as effective as trying to punch him; it only worked if the visored felt inclined for it to work.
 
Grimmjow’s stress lay in the finality of Kurosaki's feelings, and Neliel had picked up on that. There was a stubborn sort of resolve in Kurosaki that he didn't know how to decipher. Something important was happening, and that asshole was keeping them all out of the loop.
 
Somewhere between Neliel leaving her behind and now, Candice had showed up for some kind of strange moral support for Neliel. Grimmjow wasn’t exactly sure if it counted as support when all the Quincy did was question why they were all concerned in the first place.
 
Candice shifted her weight said, “Kurosaki's basically a God, I don't know what you're concerned about.”
 
Lilynette grumbled, “An unhinged, vengeful God.”
 
Grimmjow just scowled, uncertain if he should mention that any host would be more than enough to keep Kurosaki on his toes. It wasn't a weakness anyone could reliably capitalize on, but the reality that Kurosaki was just as mortal as the rest of them didn't bring him the satisfaction he thought it would.
 
He could shrug it off, he wasn’t some pussy to buckle under some hardship, but being in the thick of it and being nothing more than a liability felt… shit. It was all Kurosaki could do to protect him. The visored wouldn’t forget something like that. It wasn’t a fear that would dissipate with time, Grimmjow knew Kurosaki saw it as a mistake on his part.
 
“You’re concerned,” Nel ventured. She bent over to look at him, her hair spilling over his shoulder once she was about eye level with where he sat. She pushed it out of her face and asked, “Is he okay?”
 
He growled, frustrated by the constant stream of questions. “What the fuck are we going to do if he’s not, huh? A cero from one of us might as well be sparklers. We do

nothing

, that’s what we do.”
 
Neliel’s brows drew together in concern, her eyes flicking back over to Candice. Grimmjow could feel Starrk’s eyes on him when the other Espada spoke. “Ichigo seemed calm when he left, is there really anything to worry about?"
 
Without meaning to, Grimmjow scoffed, and then he realized he needed to provide an answer when he noticed all eyes were on him. “Kurosaki is hardly ever calm.” He was a bundle of anxieties, rage, and violence. “He’s only this focused when he’d got his mind set on something.”
 
“Like…?” Candice asked, hoping for some sort of elaboration.
 
“Something stupid.” Grimmjow said. It was a childish response, but he still felt it was justified. Kurosaki kept all sorts of secrets. He was privy to more of them than most, but that didn’t make it any less annoying when he stumbled onto one that he wasn’t.
 
Through Alteza, Grimmjow felt a sudden surge of panic and rage, but more notably,

fear

.
 
Lurching to his feet, he almost knocked heads with Neliel. The other fraccion jerked back and Candice barked, “What the fuck?”
 
Grimmjow’s attention was focused inward. Fear was infectious, and for good reason. When Kurosaki was afraid, it was a good sign they all should be. Grimmjow was a creature of instinct, and when the strongest person he knew of was scared, his instincts knew to run.
 
Neliel questioned, “Grimmjow?”
 
Heart racing, Grimmjow tightened his hands into fists, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on his tenuous connection with Kurosaki. “Give me a second,” he snapped.
 
“It's silent,” Starting noted.
 
He was right. That ever present whispering was gone, replaced with a silence that was so resounding his ears rang. This wasn't the normal calm of death that lingered in the air of Hueco Mundo, this was pressed up against his instincts, his soul.
 
Lilynette whispered, “Why did it stop?” It felt like breaking that silence would do nothing but draw the attention of whatever caused this. Grimmjow recognized this feeling, this crushing fear that his existence was so small, he might as well not exist. This was a God.
 
His guts twisted in distaste if something that simply didn't belong there. He wasn't sure if he was sensing Kurosaki's reaction, Alteza’s, or his own. Something

not

, an absence of space and presence and reishi, lingered at the edges of his senses. Grimmjow warned, “We can't stay here.”
 
No one questioned why. He took a step back, and the arrancar with him shifted back in a wave, looking to him for guidance. He couldn’t remember why he’d ever wanted to be in charge of anything. He wanted to be King, but he’d never stopped to consider what that meant. Or maybe he hadn’t given a shit until now.
 
He blurred into sonido, skipping back a few hundred yards, and the arrancar with him kept pace. He abruptly stopped, and Starrk stopped beside him, Lilynette folded over an arm like an unruly cat. Now he could see it, a distortion in space that crept outward with no discretion or reason, obliterating whatever it touched. It spread like sluggish lighting in all directions, striking out like veins.
 
“What

is

that?” Candice asked.
 
“Sunyata.” Grimmjow growled. He turned and went a different way, but he had the sinking feeling eventually they would be boxed in. Like blood bleeding through cloth,it was going to spread until Hueco Mundo was saturated with it.
 
“Isn’t Kurosaki supposed to deal with this?” Candice shouted at him.
 
“He is!” Grimmjow answered.
 
“So where the fuck is he?” Candice shouted back.
 
Grimmjow had no idea. He could be anywhere from Soul Society to the living world or anywhere in between. He wasn’t sure if he was outside of their world or not, but he knew he was fighting. And from the look of Hueco Mundo...he was losing?
 
A reverberating pulse shattered Grimmjow’s peace of mind. He staggered through his sonido, sliding to a stop in a crouch. It took him a second to realize the feeling wasn't external. He felt it again, but the others didn't react. Then again. It felt like...a heartbeat, and it echoed through his entire soul.
 
The feeling persisted, and the all encompassing fear of being watched hovered like a knife’s edge against his spine. He noticed Nel’s hand reach a little too far into his personal space. He flinched back with a low snarl, “Back off.”
 
She froze, sensing his hostility wasn’t baseless, but confusion drew her brows together when she searched for a reason. If he could prevent Kurosaki's precious friends from getting involved with this shit, he would. It was the least he could do.
 
She wasn’t disappointed, and neither was he. Tar-like hands made of la sangre uncurled from the ground, clawing into his fabric and sinking into his soul, anchoring him in place. He started to panic, he felt it was justified. He hated being trapped and it was terrifying actually seeing that fucker dig its claws into him.
 
“What

the fuck

is that?” Lilynette squeaked.
 
“What’s it look like, genius?” Grimmjow snapped.
 
Starrk finished his sentence for him. “It’s Alteza.”
 
Grimmjow caught himself on a splayed hand before he got too comfortable with the floor. He noticed darkness creeping over his fingertips up his hands. His fingertips sharpened into claws and he realized what Alteza was doing. “Well, shit,” he muttered. If he could still feel pain, he had a feeling this would be agony. Being forced into his segunda etapa could only be bad news in the end, and he wasn't positive if it was because Kurosaki went and woke the fucker up or not.
 
Candice shifted from foot to foot, anxious to leave as she muttered, “I hate this place.”
 
Starrk spoke up, his tone edged in concern Grimmjow wasn’t used to hearing. “It’s getting closer.”

It

being Sunyata. Grimmjow panted, his body under stress he just couldn’t feel. He looked up at Nel and growled, “What are you standing around for?”
 
She looked torn, watching him with a mixture of concern and distress. Nel said, “I won’t leave you here.”
 
Grimmjow flashed her a condescending smirk. “That’s cute, but I already got a babysitter.”
 
“

Ichigo

wouldn’t leave you here,” she protested.
 
“Nah, he wouldn’t, but you’re not backed up with enough reistsu to intimidate the sun. Get the fuck out of here, I’ll be fine.” Would he? He didn’t really know. He was started to understand how Kurosaki felt. Lying all the time, but never for himself. Stupid fucker, and he was just as stupid.
 
Nel took a single step backwards and stopped, expression pained. Candice hooked her hand under her arm, dragging her back another few steps and urged. “We have to go.”
 
Grimmjow wasn’t sure if it was because Candice was the physical reminder that someone was relying on her, but Nel turned to go and said, “Don’t die, kitty.”
 
Grimmjow growled, “Fuck you.”
 
She smiled and the small group of arrancar blurred into sonido, leaving him alone.
 
That hurt more than he thought it would, and in the silence left behind, he felt a pang of loneliness. He didn’t regret sending them away, not in the slightest, but if he really was going to die, alone, in the literal hands of a monster, wasn’t at the top of his list.
 
Well, he realized that wasn’t completely true. In the backdrop of his mind, and in the confines of his soul, he could still feel Kurosaki. Not alone, not really.
 
One of those inky hands grasped the sheath of Pantera, then another, squeezing until it shattered, blade and all. That catapulted him into full resurreccion, he could feels his claws and teeth lengthen, his tail curling close in fear of that creeping void.
 
La sangre swirled around the floor, only inches from thin, reaching fingers of nothingness. It touched la sangre, and that bit of the dark strengthened, surging back against the void. Shockingly, it held it back, keeping those tendrils from getting any closer. So it was protecting him, that was...nice. Alteza was using him, but he didn’t understand to what end.
 
The darkness grew thicker, tightening around him until he could see nothing. More of those hands clawed into him, and he wasn’t sure if it was the hands, la sangre pressing in on him, or his own body failing him, but he could move less and less.
 
Whatever Kurosaki was doing, he hoped he did it fast.

--- xxx ---
 
Kurosaki Ichigo

Darkness pressed in all around him, smothering and cold as the grip of death. Alteza’s hands crawled up and over his back, sinking through him, into him, but not tearing him apart in the way the primal, fearful part of his brain expected. Alteza embodied the aggressive embrace of violence, the whispering fear and pain of regret, and the tug of something viscerally familiar.
 
His reiatsu climbed, the reishi present in la sangre slowly, and then rapidly replacing what had been lost. He felt the anthem of power that grew around him threaten to consume him. He was just one soul...but there was another option left.
 
He reached for Grimmjow’s soul, for Ulquiorra’s, and consequently, to all of the souls held within their being.
 
The bond he shared with Ulquiorra was thin, but present, he could use it all the same. He reached out for the darkness within them, the base of their existence, and pulled hard. He forced them into segunda etapa, hoping that was enough to keep them alive in the torrent of la sangre and his own reiatsu. He used them as a buffer for all the weight of a God he couldn’t bear alone.
 
For all the thousands of souls held within their being, it was using them up fast, which meant both their time and his own was limited.
 
His demand to Alteza was concise.

MORE

Sunyata pushed back on his sword through its host, protecting its vessel, but now Ichigo was holding his own. The void stopped gaining ground. The dark no longer felt dark to him, and now he felt the vast depth of it on the fringes of his consciousness. Alteza was

awake

, and its presence resurged in a torrent against Sunyata.
 
This wasn’t the slumbering monolith from his dreams, this was something beyond his comprehension, something he’d just invited into his soul with open arms. Alteza didn’t speak in any words or ideas that made sense to him, but its attention was focused entirely on Sunyata now, and he couldn’t have asked for more.
 
Sunyata finally moved, acknowledging Alteza and gripping his sword by the edge, slowly pushing it from its host’s chest. Ichigo jumped back when it reached for him and his sword slid free with the resistance of being trapped in stone, despite knowing how vacant the space should be.
 
He’d given up his meager advantage, but he wasn’t about to test Alteza’s defense of him using his face. The gap in Reizei’s chest remained, unable to fix itself with la sangre clogging the wound.
 
He realized the whispering was back, but this was different. Instead of many voices all piled over each other in a cacophonous mess, each voice recited the same words, varying in pitch and speed and volume. The words were in a language he both knew, and could never understand. The words twisted through his brain on a level of reality just barely crossed over with his own.
 
He let his reiatsu coat the blade of his sword, and without conscious thought or effort, la sangre mixed within it. It was becoming increasingly easy to do, and whatever changes Alteza had needed to make to send them back to their own time without killing them had a noticeable effect.

Make it count

He had no idea if Alteza could even hear him, but it seemed to comprehend what he wanted. He felt the weight of its presence in his mind and in his body, numbing his arms so much he want sure he was even holding Zangetsu until his sword reaffirmed that he was.
 
Zangetsu warned,

“You aren't feeling the pain. Alteza lifted your limiters; Any more stress on your body and you really will die, King.”

'And I'll die if I don't. So will everyone else.’

And

that

, he just couldn’t abide.
 
He felt the gap in his awareness shift. It was difficult to sense details when Alteza surrounded him like the vastness of space, but this God was foreign to him. Reizei...no, Sunyata, began to move closer.
 
He spoke, his voice just barely louder than Alteza’s sharp mutterings. “Getsuga Tensho.” He brought Zangetsu down and hit the host with everything he had, and

he didn’t stop

.
 
Power coalesced around him so dense it was tangible, drawn directly from the source, then given direction and meaning through his soul, his Zanpakuto. Millions of shards of sand moved with his attack, piling on Sunyata and pulling him down into what he hoped was an early grave.
 
Ichigo screamed, a wordless, desperate sound. All the power he could physically muster flowed straight through and into the void.
 
Like water wearing down a sandcastle, Sunyata was still there, weathered, but whole and standing and dangerous. Ichigo felt his and Alteza’s power fizzling out against his form like water on pavement, hissing and bubbling
 
Ichigo felt the gnawing edge of despair cloud his resolve. His power was simply

gone

, devoured by the void. Sunyata was simply stronger; he’d found the better monster.

“Don't you dare give up, King.”

'I can barely stand, what am I supposed to do? That was all I had.’

“That was all

Alteza

had.”

Ichigo staggered, breathing heavily, and realized what Zangetsu meant. The emphasis his hollow put on ‘Alteza’ was clear, and it was a last resort he hadn’t wanted to turn to.
 
He spoke aloud, breathless as Sunyata advanced, slowly but as steadily as the tide. “I don't know how to find die Konigin.”

“Excuses,”

Zangetsu mocked.
“You do.

Use your instincts, the memories that cunt left behind in your soul.”

His hollow wasn’t wrong, some of her memories lingered, despite Grimmjow’s addition to his soulscape. “This will probably kill me,” Ichigo reminded him. Die Konigin could potentially counter some of the damage that had been done, but not all of it, not when it was caused by its pure antithesis.
 
“

Fuck if we won't go down fighting

,” Zangetsu snarled.
 
He stabbed Zangetsu into the ground at his feet and focused on the spark of life in his soul. Die Konigin was there, stirred into wakefulness by Alteza, but it needed a kick in the face to wake up.
 
Time slowed, only the rush of his blood and the heavy gasp of his breath audible to his ears. He knew what he needed to do, but he wasn’t sure that he could. Balance was a touchy subject for his soul and the scales were tipped ludicrously towards Alteza.
 
He needed to call on both sides of his heritage. All three, if it was even possible.
 
Ichigo could hear the hiss of Sunyata’s feet in the sand, almost close enough to touch. Waiting for the opportune moment, his hand shot out to grasp Sunyata by the throat. Merely touching the host must have been painful, he couldn’t even feel his hand or his arm, but he knew he tightened his grip.
 
The God didn’t react, it just kept moving, walking steadily closer. Before it could reach him, Ichigo wrapped la sangre around him and pulled them both into a place held in memory, a place he’d never been but knew as clearly as his own childhood bedroom.
 
La sangre burned away and he staggered, splashing backwards in something thick and wet. It was someplace very different, someplace bright. He squeezed his eyes shut, and still, Sunyata advanced. Ichigo slid back, knee deep in

something

. He sucked in a breath, the smell and acrid taste of iron hanging heavy in the air. The lizard part of his brain supplied the answer he didn’t want to hear. Blood.
 
It sloshed up against his thighs when he lost ground, sticky and warm. He resisted the urge to vomit and yanked on die Konigin’s presence in his soul.
 
WAKE
 
UP
 
“

No fear, King. Mean it!”

No fear, no fear, no fear.

It wasn't death he feared, but that he would end up like Reizei, that he would lose who he was...that he would lose Zangetsu.
 
The God reached for his heart and this time Ichigo didn't back away. Reizei's hand sunk into the void in his chest, sluggish with resistance from his own soul. His heart

ached

for what this God offered, some deep part of himself was seduced by the End. Ichigo wasn’t expecting to feel it, but he did.  No more pain, no more struggle.
 
But he wasn't fighting for himself.
 
WAKE UP
 
WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP
 
The spark of its awareness ignited into a brushfire in his mind and he gasped, his veins lighting with pain that disappeared as quickly as it hit him. The space around him was suddenly scorching, yet it didn't burn him in the way he thought it should, the pitched, howling in the atmosphere around him almost unbearably loud.
 
He let go of Reizei’s throat, no longer concerned about keeping him at bay. He felt the raw power in his body clashing up against Alteza, turbulent and sickening in its ferocity. The blood around him surged, violent, and Ichigo finally opened his eyes. Everything was blindingly bright, but he could

see everythin

g.
 
He could see Reizei through Sunyata's distortion. His mangled soul, the well of his power, all of it.
 
With his hand still through his torso, Ichigo could vaguely sense Sunyata trying to purge him from within, but he had two Gods in his soul to keep it from succeeding, and both were the closest thing to vengeful he’d ever felt.
 
Reizei’s mind was still recovering from the recoil of Inoue’s death, otherwise he didn’t think he would have gotten the time to succeed. The Gods simply didn’t comprehend time in the way they did. Sunyata was reacting, but strangely, and slowly. It gave him time to try something fucking stupid.
 
Pulling on his Quincy blood, on the power his mother left him, he forced a delicate balance, one he didn’t think should be possible. He kept his grip on resurreccion, and he forced the change into Vollstandig. The result of that was...interesting. He was still a hollow, but he could sense his blut crawling over his skin, and the white edge of his sword flared with power.
 
Even with Alteza’s massive boost in real estate in his soul due to their little aside in the past, die Konigin was gaining rapidly now that it was awake. Ichigo let das licht take control, ignoring the panic in his instincts for even considering it. It surged through his body and forced him to stay on his feet, no matter how close he was to collapsing.
 
Die Konigin was vengeance, but leaning on das licht also quieted his instincts and allowed him to think. The Quincy side of him wondered just what kind of damage he was causing by waking the Gods while calmly considering how much longer he had left to live. It also reminded him he had a handful of living Quincy to draw strength from.
 
He reached for the thin, tenuous link to the Quincy. Adaliz had already changed them, they were a part of das licht, despite whatever power he might had granted or taken away. He used their lives as a buffer for the sheer volume of power die Konigin was generating. He hadn’t forgotten the number of years Adaliz had taken to gather that power. She had thought it was enough to destroy Soul Society...she was wrong, it was going to take both of the Gods. Her corruption and need for vengeance had ruined her chance.
 
Die Kongin acted off of his will, and he took an unsteady step forward, and the blood at his feet was siphoned away into a veritable vortex, so he stood on dry ground. He didn’t really look at it, he wasn’t sure what it was he stood on, but it was just as blinding as the sky around him.
 
Hefting his sword, Ichigo gathered his power, both sides of it, into a Getsuga. Alteza and die Konigin both poured energy through Ichigo, directly into his gathered attack.
 
Despite having a say in it, relinquishing control of his body felt

wrong

. It scared him as much as when Alteza did it over two years ago, and as much as when Zangetsu did it.
 
Sunyata held out a hand, reaching in a gesture that felt almost pitiful, desperate. The void extended out towards him in soft exhale, something so far removed from violence, it seemed harmless.
 
Alteza and die Konigin both held it back, spurred into action by Ichigo’s will as das licht and la sangre formed a haphazard shield between him and the void.
 
Reizei spoke, his tone as devoid of emotion as before, but this wasn’t ramblings, this held the focus of what was left of his soul. “Why?”
 
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Ichigo growled.
 
“I can end it all,” Reizei said, his voice quiet, but carrying in a way that didn’t seem logical. “The universe creeps towards entropy, it’s the inevitable end. Why fight it? Why struggle for peace? As if such a thing can ever exist.”
 
Ichigo didn’t want to linger on the hopelessness in his own soul, the ever present fear that this was all for nothing.
 
Reizei took a step closer, buffeted by the blood around them enough to pause. “The world exists to grind us into dust.”
 
Power spiraled fiercely around them both in a hurricane, but both were relatively untouched. Ichigo needed all that both die Konigin and Alteza could give. His arms trembled in exertion, but he held Zangetsu’s hilt in a death grip.

“Nearly there, King, keep him talking.”

Ichigo asked, “What happened to you? In the past, you protected Soul Society. What changed?”
 
The shinigami host sighed, and Ichigo wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look so tired. It was a visual contradiction to the sheer level of power contained in one vessel. Reizei said, “I was confronted with my failures, you brought me to the King of the hollows, the host of Alteza.”
 
Ichigo felt dread settle into his gut, heavy and sickening, as Reizei continued, “It planted a seed of doubt, and an idea. I created the Soul King, but it was a failure.” He muttered, distracted by his own thoughts. “I even fed it die Konigin’s precious children.”
 
Reizei kept talking, attempting another step forward. “So I took the example el
corazón set, and I became Sunyata, I disappeared
.” His hand was still extended towards Ichigo, a pleading thing that made it feel wrong to respond in violence. “Let it all disappear. Aren’t you tired of it?”

“He’s bargaining,”

Zangetsu mocked.

“He knows he’s going to lose.”

Ichigo wasn’t sure if that was true, but he felt compelled to respond, even if he was arguing with a shadow. “I wouldn’t ever let my nihilism destroy everything. You’re insane.”
 
“How would I know?” Reizei asked. There was a wistful edge in his voice, but lined in finality as he repeated his earlier sentiments. “It doesn’t matter.”
 
Ichigo didn’t have any parting words for Reizei, he wasn’t even sure if the host was fully cognizant of what he was doing. Reizei moved closer, within the range of his sword. He didn’t have any more time to amass power, he leaned on the memories Adaliz had left behind and bent das licht, his blut, to will his body into action.
 
He swung Zangetsu, his voice hoarse as he shouted, voice nearly lost among the howls of the wind. “Getsuga Tensho!”

--- xxx ---
 
Didn’t mean to cliffhanger, but it was originally supposed to all be a part of the last chapter, but it was getting quite long. Sorry it took foreveeerrrr, I’ve been so tiiiired.
 
Guest from chapter 32:
I completely forgot about Hooleer, he was so plot devicey and boring I literally forgot he existed, because he honestly might as well not have lol
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck
 
Minutes after Grimmjow was overtaken by Alteza, Candice fell to die Konigin. She wasn’t willing to abandon Candice to the Kūgeki. Maybe das licht would have protected her, and maybe it wouldn’t have. With the Quincy out of her element, smack in the middle of Hueco Mundo, Nel hadn’t been willing to risk it.
 
Despite the damage it did to her, she dragged Candice away from the tireless creep of the Kūgeki. When it finally stopped, much of Las Noches had simply ceased to exist. Nel remained smack in the thick of the damage since Candice was unconscious and she couldn’t pick her up again without causing needless harm to herself. Nel was still recovering from the damage she’d taken from das licht the first time around, Pesche wouldn’t shut up about it. She loved him like family, but he was agonizing over it. He didn’t want to leave her side, but he wanted to get someone to heal her as well.
 
Starrk gave in and left to find Szayel, taking Lilynette with him. That left the three of them alone, Candice obscured by light. She couldn’t even look at her without burning her irises, it was like staring into the sun. So Nel sat with her shoulder to her, staring at the floor beside her. Nel could still sense her reiatsu, sluggish and low. She wasn’t dead, but she felt close to it.
 
Pesche pulled her arm out a bit straighter and she clenched her jaw against the pain. Pesche apologized and she answered absently. “It's fine. I'm fine.” It hurt, but it paled in comparison to the tight anxiety in her chest. She couldn’t lose her. Not Candice.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Abarai Renji

Soul Society // 5 days later

Seeing the sheer distress on his friend’s face kept drawing reassurances from him that he wasn’t sure how to give. “I’m sure he’s okay, Rukia, you’ve seen how-”
 
“No one has heard anything?” Rukia had heard it all before, interrupting to ask

him

something he’d heard before too.
 
“...No.” Renji reluctantly answered. It wasn’t an answer he wanted to give her, and she didn’t want to hear it, but she kept asking all the same. She hadn’t been there, she hadn’t seen it, so he was her go-to for information he just didn’t have.
 
It was frustrating, not being able to help. Her eyes were planted firmly on the back of Kurosaki Ichigo. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed he was always going to be in his shadow.
 
They stood on the fringes of where Seireitei used to be. It was strange, being homeless again. Awkward pieces and slivers of architecture and pathways remained, so it seemed simply that some complicated structure was blocking his view, and he only needed to step to the side to see past it. That wasn’t the case; Seireitei was gone, as were huge swaths of Rukongai.
 
No one had any idea what happened to the souls that got trapped in the Kūgeki, only that the senkaimon was destroyed and they had no way of knowing if things were better or worse in the other realms. No hollows appeared, the whispers and howls were gone, everything had simply ceased to move forward.
 
When the Kūgeki finally stopped advancing, Kyoraku eventually gathered the heads of each division together and sent groups out to categorize the damage, and help any that needed it.
 
Byakuya was still resting with strict orders to take it easy from the fourth division. His arm was intact, but whatever had caused that level of damage was apparently very difficult to heal. It was possible, but it was slow going. That left Renji in charge of any field operations in their division, and with every division essentially homeless, most of the rules were up in the air and Renji was floundering.
 
Feeding everyone was a concern as much as moving enough water around. It felt like the missions they’d been sent on to human world, back before he was a fukutaicho. The difference being they were trying to organize and manage an army with zero preparation.
 
Having no experience in this at all, Byakuya was doing what he could from camp and Renji had basically been sent off to be useful. Rukia partnered up with him on the first day and no one said anything about it, they seemed to expect it.
 
Walking through the ruins of Seireitei, most of the ground itself was gone, but there was no real destruction. It was creepy, especially given how quiet it was. They walked in silence, having nothing more to say to each other as they picked their way through the ruins looking for anything useful.
 
Rukia suddenly let out a strangled gasp, and Renji whirled, expecting to see that she was falling, but she stood stock still, staring.
 
He followed her line of sight and his eyes widened when they came to rest on Ichigo’s silhouette. He couldn’t forget horns like that, or a sword so massive the tip almost brushed the ground even when it was sheathed on his back.
 
Rukia gathered her breath and screamed, “Ichigo!” Her voice cut through the silence like a blade, falling flat with nothing to bounce off of.
 
The figure turned to them, and Renji saw that it wasn’t Ichigo, not really. The man looked so similar, but was clearly different. He held himself different, straighter, with less of the hunted caution he remembered seeing in Ichigo’s shoulders. Renji questioned, “His hollow?”
 
“It has to be,” said Rukia. She carried on, her voice tense. “That means he’s alive, he has to be close.” She started forward, and in the span it took to blink, Ichigo’s inner spirit was directly before her, fingertips resting on her sternum to stop her short.
 
Rukia yelped in surprise, stumbling back into Renji. With her nerves pulled so tight, he didn’t blame her; if he wasn’t so tired, he might have taken a step back off a cliff.
 
Ichigo spirit watched them with narrowed eyes and said, “You need to stay back.”
 
Rukia straightened, making up for her height in sheer volume of her voice. “He’s alive, where is he?!”
 
“Alive,” his spirit confirmed. “For now.”
 
Renji asked, “What does that mean?”
 
“His soul is under immense strain, he must remain in resurreccion, in bankai, or his soul may very well burn out.”
 
Rukia said, “We can help!”
 
“You can stay away,” the spirit said.
 
Rukia bit her lip and insisted, “We can help him.” Sharp, hollow eyes narrowed. “Look at this place, you can barely help yourselves.”
 
Renji felt a flash of anger and growled, “No thanks to the Gods.”
 
The inner spirit’s eyes hardened, and Renji wondered how many lines he’d hopped over to earn a look like that. “If my wielder didn’t care for you…” He stopped himself midthreat. “Perhaps Ichigo is partially to blame for your ignorance, but it is

ignorance

.” He bared his teeth through that word then shifted, eyes locked somewhere they couldn’t see.
 
Now that Renji was looking, he saw that the spirit wasn't fully corporeal. Pieces of him were translucent, the wind tugging pieces of him away.
 
Ichigo’s spirit hissed, “He does this all

for you.

He’s weak and he wastes his strength to manifest me to keep

you

safe.”
 
Renji sensed the hatred in the inner spirit, he heard it in his voice. It wasn’t unusual for an inner spirit to be possessive of their wielder, but this case was above and beyond what most shinigami ever dealt with.
 
“So let us help him,” Rukia pleaded.
 
The spirit looked back at her, eyes cold and unyielding. “You can help him by staying away. His reiatsu is weak, but the Gods are at odds in his soul. If you come close, you could die by mere proximity. I warned you because Ichigo is fond of you, but I won’t do anyone else the courtesy.”
 
Rukia’s thoughts were stranded on Ichigo, but something occurred to Renji as he asked, “Why Seireitei? Can’t you move him somewhere else?”
 
The inner spirit’s expression soured. “

No

. Sunyata’s presence is strongest

here

. This is the only place he might live.”
 
Renji asked. “What’s Sunyata got to do with it?”
 
“Ichigo was the closest viable host when he killed Reizei,” the spirit answered.
 
Oh. By then, plenty of rumors had spread, but the facts had been passed around enough that everyone knew Sunyata’s name, and most had heard of Reizei.
 
“Ichigo is the host for all of the Gods?” Rukia asked.
 
Ichigo’s spirit answered simply. “Yes.”
 
He turned, taking a single step away before the word tumbled from Rukia’s mouth. “Wait.” To Renji’s shock, he did, pausing to look back at her. Rukia asked, “There has to be

something

we can do.”
 
“Perhaps if he was conscious,” the spirit answered, then turned away again. “There is nothing you can do, shinigami, but wait.”
 
Renji asked, “Does that apply to the Soutaichou?” There was a sarcastic edge to his question, but he realized he was still deferring to Ichigo’s authority and he wasn’t even conscious.
 
“I do not care,” the spirit answered. His eyes lingered on Rukia, whose hands were balled into fists, every part of herself drawn tight in helplessness.
 
The spirit’s tone softened just a touch, and he said, “I understand, shinigami.” Renji saw pain and sadness in the spirit’s eyes so profound he looked away, feeling he was witnessing something private that the spirit had only let slip out of pure exhaustion.
 
Zabimaru surprisingly had something to say about that.

“A sword desires to cut, to fight. Watching your wielder die a slow death outside of battle would be agony.”

“Will he live?” Rukia asked.
 
“There is nothing I desire more,” the spirit said, and then he was gone, returning to wherever Ichigo was.
 
There was a look of stubborn determination on Rukia's face, her voice strained. “

Idiot

...”
 
“He'll make it,” Renji said, surprised to find he actually believed that. “If he’s still alive after

all this..

.” Renji had seen the casual ease at which Reizei had nearly destroyed Byakuya, and Ichigo faced that on his own. He felt a stab of shame for putting any of the blame on Ichigo at all, he hadn’t really thought about it. His spirit was right to hate them.  
 
“He didn't deserve

any

of this,” Rukia said.
 
“You're right, he didn't,” Renji agreed. She twisted to look at him, clearly not expecting him to agree with her. “Fuck what Kurosaki wants. Maybe we’re standing in ruins, but we’re standing here at all. What the hell have we done to repay him for saving our asses again and again and fucking again. Jack shit.”
 
Rukia’s eyes widened, and Renji carried on, feeling that helplessness claw a void in his chest. “So

fuck

what Kurosaki wants. We’ll tell Kyoraku we found him, and we’ll try our damndest to keep him alive.”
 
They might have been on duty, but standing there alone in the fractured remains of what might have been the 6th division barracks, it didn’t really feel like it. He was just a shinigami, he had a duty and it wasn’t to Seireitei.
 
Rukia gave him a shaky smile, but it was the most honest smile he’d gotten out of her in months. “Okay.”

--- xxx ---
 
Ryūken Ishida
 
His son had come back to him in one piece in all practicality, but Uryuu’s heart was in pieces. Ryūken thought he was a mess before, but this had been devastating. He felt Uryuu’s pain through his reiatsu, he found him on his knees in the street in tears. If he hadn’t found him, the Kūgeki might have taken him. The Kurosaki boy might have healed his son’s destroyed reiryoku paths but Ishida had torn them wide open, he was surprised he’d found him when he was still conscious.
 
He carried him, he saved his son from dying, but he didn’t know how to handle

this

. His son was so much like his wife in his grief; honest.
 
For days he had felt something sapping the edges of his power, like tadpoles sucking algae from rocks. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. He wondered if Ishida felt it too. He would ask, but his son hadn’t said anything in days.
 
Karakura was halfway to destroyed, including their house, so he had them staying in a high end hotel with two separate bedrooms. He couldn’t take too much time from work, not with all the injuries the Kūgeki had caused by simply bringing buildings down. With every day that passed, his son looked worse, and he wondered if his presence would make things better or worse.
 
He came home in the middle of the night most days expecting to find Ishida asleep, but he never was. That night he returned to find him with a long since cold cup of tea, sitting in the dark. His glasses were lost, and without them he looked so much like her.
 
The girl...Inoue...she hadn’t come back.
 
He knew something had happened to her, but Ishida wouldn’t talk. Healing so much physical and mental trauma took time and patience, but it had been days with no improvement. Luckily, Ishida saw no reason to call on his reiatsu. Doing so might have been enough to knock him out.  For now. it hummed at a level below normal, sluggish in his anguish.
 
He set down his keys and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving his shoes at the door. He crossed over to Ishida and left a small bag on the coffee table. “Please eat.”
 
This time when he didn’t respond, Ryūken didn’t leave him be. “Uryuu.”
 
Ishida glanced at him, then to the food he’d brought him, and tears gathered in his eyes. He dropped his head in his hands, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. For a brief instant, Ryūken wondered what had prompted such a reaction. Realization hit him when he gave the paper bag another look; this was the bakery Inoue had worked at.
 
He should have known.
 
He sighed, tentatively reaching for his son. He rested his hand on his head, earning a gasp of genuine shock from Uryuu. He shifted the bag over and sat in front of him, leaving his hand on the back of his neck. The gesture was there, but his tone was still level. “I’m sorry, Uryuu. You need to eat something.”
 
Uryuu had had nothing but water and leftovers, he hadn’t even slept. Some unseen pain was eating his son alive and he could do nothing to stop it. He tried again, his tone slipping in his own exhaustion. “Please eat.”
 
Uryuu finally looked at him for the first time in days, the motion leaving his hand on the side of his face. His son looked tired, too old, too weathered by pain for someone so young. The guilt and pain on his son’s face twisted his chest. He might have drawn his hand back a couple days ago, but now, it lingered.
 
Tears made his eyes glassy as they streaked down his cheeks, wetting his palm. “Otōsan...I killed her, she’s de-” His throat tightened, unable to finish the word, and Ryūken finally understood his son’s pain. The self loathing in his voice scared him, it reminded him so much of himself...of what he did to Katagiri. He got her killed, and not a day passed him by that he wasn’t reminded of it.
 
Pulling Uryuu forward by the back of his neck, he tugged his son into an awkward hug. He hadn’t hugged him since before his mother died, and he wondered why he’d been that way. Why had he been so distant, so callous? Looking at Uryuu now; his son embodied all the traits about himself he never wanted him to have.
 
His words to him were simple. “You aren’t the monster you think you are.”
 
“How can you say that?” Uryuu hissed.
 
He wanted to say it was because he knew him, but did he really? They hardly saw each other, let alone spoke. “I might not know the circumstances, but you loved her.”
 
Uryuu visibly shuddered at the past tense. “How can that forgive what I did?”
 
“Tell me what happened,” he insisted. Uryuu rubbed his hands over his face, slowly pulling away from his touch. He wouldn't make eye contact with him, but he started to quietly talk, devoid of inflection.
 
The longer he spoke the less rational his words became, the more he began to grow dependant on unimportant details. When he absently reached for glasses that were no longer there, Ryuken noticed how his hands shook. There was a limit to the things someone could endure, and he was struck by the reality that he’d done next to nothing to help him.
 
Uryuu really was his son, he went into immense detail about the quality of reiatsu he felt, the voices, the silence, and it allowed Ryuken to paint a vivid picture of what had happened.
 
Either by virtue of reliving that experience, or speaking for so long at all, but Uryuu was exhausted when he was done, and he had no more tears left to shed.
 
The two of them sat in mutual silence until Uryuu finally passed out on the floor. Ryuken draped a blanket over his shoulders and took out a phone, calling Kisuke. The shinigami needed to know why Orihime had to die, because the odds were high that the same insanity that plagued Kurosaki’s predecessor was going to plague him as well.

--- xxx ---

Urahara Kisuke
 
Living with a grieving Yoruichi, a pack of visored, four children, two shinigami, and one human, was a recipe for nightmares. The human world wasn’t necessarily in ruins, but his house was mostly gone, Isshin’s clinic was in poor enough shape that it was unliveable, and Chad’s entire apartment complex was gone.
 
By some debt to Kisuke, or Ichigo, or Orihime, or all of the above, the visored wouldn’t let them pay for a hotel. That left a literal warehouse to house them all.
 
Granted, they’d made the rooms halfway to decent, but it was still a

warehouse,

and they were a ragtag group of heathens, unused to living with others. The visored were just

a joy

to live with. Lisa was leaving porn out where

children

could read it, Isshin was an ass when he was worried, and Mashiro kept trying to fearlessly hug and pet Yoruichi both out of pity and because she was a cat. Then she would end up bloody and Kisuke would have a pissed off cat on his shoulders for the next hour. It wasn’t what he would call a good working environment.
 
The only sane one seemed to be Karin. She sat and stewed in silence, waiting for his verdict, going for days without so much as a question. She was a lot like her brother. Both of them were violent and loud if it called for it, but quiet and reserved on their own time. He didn't see much of Yuzu, she spent her time mingling and cleaning and attempting to cook in their sad excuse for a kitchen; anything to distract herself.

Kisuke was doing what he could to find Isshin’s son, but with no lab and nothing but his intellect, a laptop, and whatever scraps the visored had hoarded, it was slow going. He had primitive sensors to work off of, but those he had left in Soul Society were mostly destroyed. So much time was spent simply hijacking the signals of nearby human tech to do his bidding, he cursed the loss of his lab and the lack of resources to have a backup.
 
When he got a ping back to his laptop, he lurched forward so fast Yoruichi fell off, scrambling for purchase and leaving her fluffy and irritated and him hissing in pain and bleeding.
 
Karin finally spoke up. “What is it?”
 
He looked from the screen, back to her. “I think I found your brother.”
 
That stopped all conversation in the room entirely. They all knew what he’d been up to. They knew why the lazy slither of an extension cord kept tripping anyone unfortunate enough to forget about it, or why the glow of his laptop had Karin sleeping with her pillow over her face. And it had paid off.
 
Isshin broke the sudden silence, asking, “He’s alive?”
 
Kisuke was afraid to say yes. These sensors were too primitive, all he got back was a positive or negative ping. He answered cautiously. “That’s my hope.”
 
“Where?” Isshin demanded.
 
Kisuke only hesitated because he knew the risk involved. “Soul Society.”
 
Shinji looked between them, hands shoved in his pockets and narrowed his eyes. “Can you even

get

there?”
 
Kisuke made a small, thoughtful sound, and sat back, tenderly rubbing the back of his neck where Yoruichi’s claw marks swelled in irritation. “Yes,” he decided. “I can open a Senkaimon…”
 
“What’s the catch?” Isshin asked, hearing the twist in his tone.
 
Kisuke paused to organize his thoughts, looking from the floor, back to Isshin. “The space between worlds is likely very unstable. Time moves differently in the dangai, sure, but it’s only been a few days.”
 
“The dangai is

always

unstable, what does that mean? Isshin asked.
 
“

It means

,” said Kisuke, “that individual’s attempt to pass through the dangai will be at the mercy of the Kōryū. Time

will

be distorted, your soul will be under intense stress.”
 
Isshin asked, “Are you trying to convince me not to go?”
 
“I'm informing you of the risks.” Kisuke didn't mean anything by it, but his eyes slipped to Karin.
 
Indecision suddenly clouded Isshin's expression, unintentionally reminded that he couldn't abandon his

living

daughters for the sake of his son.
 
It would have left a long, awkward silence, if Karin hadn’t spoken up. Her voice was surprisingly level. “It's okay, Oyaji. Go get him, you have to.”
 
Kisuke tugged on the brim of his hat and bit back what he wanted to say, and Isshin noticed. “What?”
 
“If…” that word drew a frown from Isshin. “If your son is alive, he’s going to be the host for Sunyata.”
 
Shinji asked, “How do you know for sure he’s the new host? Isn’t it possible it’s someone else?”
 
Kisuke answered confidently. “Because he’s the strongest, and if the Kugeki stopped expanding, that means Ichigo killed the previous host, and physical proximity matters.” No one contested that point, and he didn’t expect them to. Kisuke continued, “You saw what happened when he became the host for die Konigin…”
 
Besides nearly dying, Ichigo had been different, far less sane. Isshin crossed his arms, clearly defensive. “Spit it out, Kisuke, what are you saying?”
 
Recalling what Ryuken had told him, Kisuke tried to be terse when he broke the news to them. “I’m telling you that your son is going to have an even harder time with this God then the others. Sunyata became immensely powerful in the physical realm. Not only is he fighting for his soul, but he’s fighting for his sanity. Any number of things could go wrong.”
 
Now that Kisuke had Isshin’s attention and his concern, he kept going. “I’m sure you noticed your son was far more lucid when you spoke with him last?”
 
From the look on Isshin’s face, he had, and the inconsistency had been bothering him. Kisuke said, “I’m not positive how things have changed now that the Gods are awake, but one thing that has remained a constant in the past is the need to share the burden. From what your son tells me, he can make that choice on his own, or the Gods may make it for him.”
 
Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Isshin struggled to keep up. “You’re going to need to elaborate, Urahara.”
 
“Grimmjow is one such conduit. Since arrancar are comprised of thousands of souls, he’s enough. If your son is alive,” Isshin didn’t appreciate his choice of words, but Kisuke was a realist, “to ease the burden Sunyata puts on his soul, he’s going to need to rely on

many

shinigami to get the same effect.” He was certain it was the same for the Quincy, but so far die Konigin hadn’t seemed to be as much of an issue. Kisuke had a feeling it was because Ichigo was already linked to the living Quincy, it was possible he even inherited the connection from his predecessor.
 
Moments passed in silence, all of the visored looking to Isshin for an answer. He might be a father now, he might be a couple decades out of practice, but he was a captain once too, he wasn’t made uncomfortable by a room full of people looking to him for answers.
 
Sparing his daughters one last look, he finally answered, “Send me through, Urahara.”
 
Kisuke didn’t bother asking if he was sure, Isshin wasn’t the type to change his mind. He warned, “My method is unstable to begin with,” which might be made better with practice, but he hadn’t had many opportunities, “the Kōryū will need to be held back with Kaikyō Kotei, or I don’t think you’ll stand a chance.”
 
Shinji said, “The only ones in this room capable of Kido like that are you, me, Isshin, and…” he made a thoughtful sound. “Probably Yoruichi, if she felt like it.” She hadn’t changed out of her cat form in days, so Kisuke highly doubted it.
 
“I can do it,” Kisuke said.
 
“No,” Isshin said. “You’re too valuable, and you have to keep the senkaimon open. I’m not saying you can’t do both at the same time, but you can’t do each of them

well

.”
 
Kisuke muttered, “Fair point.”
 
Isshin turned to Shinji and asked, “Are you opposed?”
 
“...No.”
 
“What’s the hesitation for?” Isshin asked. Kisuke knew Isshin wouldn’t let Shinji go if his heart wasn’t in it, that’s just the way he was.
 
Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, Shinji made an annoyed sound. “It’s just been awhile, it’s not like Soul Society’s been waiting with baited breath for us to come back.”
 
Karin spoke up, channeling every ounce of teenage sass she could muster. “So the big, bad visored is a pussy?”
 
Shinji snapped back. “Says the girl with no hollow.”
 
“Can you

not

argue with my daughter,” Isshin growled.
 
“She started it,” Shinji said.
 
“Very mature,” Kensei muttered.
 
Karin carried on. “Having a hollow didn’t stop my brother, did it?”
 
Shinji scowled at her and made a growling sound of disapproval, but Karin was relentless. “I don’t recall Soul Society ever liking him much either.”
 
Shinji snapped, “

Fine

, yes, I'll do it.”
 
Kisuke had a feeling Shinji would have gotten to that answer on his own, but Karin certainly sped that process up. He said, “Well, now that that's settled.” He took out a mod soul from a pocket, not having been willing to leave them behind. He tossed it to Isshin who caught it, and he seemed well aware of what it was. He should, after spying on his son for months after he first got his power from Rukia.
 
Chad raised a hand, not having said a word in days. “Is it possible for me to go as well?”
 
Kisuke thought about it, then answered, “You’re still a living soul, I wouldn’t risk it.” The giant of a man looked disappointed, but didn’t argue with him.
 
Isshin asked, “How long can you keep the senkaimon open?”
 
“I won't know until I try,” Kisuke admitted.
 
“Then try,” Isshin said, “As soon as you can hold a steady enough window, I’m leaving.”
 
Kisuke pretended that wasn’t an order and said, “You should start practicing your recruitment speech. You’re going to need more than a few powerful shinigami willing to tie their life to your son’s.”
 
Isshin’s expression darkened. “I’m not looking forward to it.”
 
Kisuke couldn’t believe he was about to hand out a pep talk. “Have a little more faith in them. Your son has more than a few friends in Soul Society.” Despite how crass and violent he was, for some reason Kurosaki inspired loyalty.

--- xxx ---
 
Shunsui Kyoraku

18 hours later // Rukongai

With half of the Gotei 13 starving, he had his hands full just trying to feed them. Seireitei was destroyed, he half expected more chaos and disorder among the divisions, but that wasn't necessarily the case. Everyone was running on a short fuse, but fights were scattered and brief. Above all else, the divisions seemed somewhat demoralized, and he didn’t blame them. Starting over from scratch was daunting.
 
With so many smaller problems haunting his every waking hour, he should have expected an all new problem to emerge. When Rukia returned to tell him Ichigo was alive, he wouldn’t say he was shocked; the boy was powerful, and seemed to survive things he had no right to. What stopped him short was that the hybrid could be dying.
 
This wasn’t any shinigami, this was the host for all three Gods, the only person he knew of with a foot in each world, and a heart torn so many different way it was a miracle he’d made it this far. Ichigo was a monster, he was a thing bred for war and he excelled at it. But he was also a person, and something of a protector. Letting him die felt wrong.
 
He’d been struggling over how to help at all when he found himself face to face with Ichigo’s father. Surprise didn’t even begin to cover it.
 
He called out. “Isshin-san! How did you get here?”
 
The shinigami that were attempting to block his path gave up at the greeting, and Isshin gave him a wry smile. “With help.” The ex-captain shot a pointed look back at Shinji, who he was even more startled to see; He really hadn’t expected to ever see Shinji back in Soul Society, at least not so soon. Then again, circumstances had been extreme.
 
Isshin said dryly, “Can’t say I love what you’ve done with the place.”
 
“Can’t say I like it either,” Kyoraku said, but he managed to hide the undue stress it was causing him.
 
“Why are-” Kyoraku started.
 
“I’m here to help my son. Why else would I use a bootleg senkaimon to get my ass in Soul Society?”
 
That explained why they looked a little worse for wear, and why Shinji’s reiatsu seemed to be suffering. Kyoraku’s thought finally caught up to what that meant and he asked, “Back up, you were able to open a senkaimon? How?”
 
“Urahara. Does it matter?” Isshin bit back.
 
“I suppose not,” Kyoraku admitted. Not with every other problem on their plate. “If you want to help Kurosaki-san, I’m not sure why you’ve come to

me

. I’ve been at a loss on how to do that for as long as I’ve known where he was.”
 
Isshin’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really mean that? Do you actually want to help?”
 
Kyoraku frowned. “You doubt my intentions?” He and Isshin had never been friends, he didn’t expect the other to know him, but he was more than a stone’s throw from Yamamoto’s ideals.
 
“I’m only questioning how far that conviction goes,” Isshin said. “I’m not asking you out for a drink, I’m asking you to give up your soul.”
 
Kyoraku’s eyes widened in realization. “You know how to help?”
 
Isshin went on to explain in much more detail that Kyoraku expected to get. If Ichigo was going to survive, it would take sacrifice, and it sounded far from pleasant. Apparently, if Kurosaki was the monster Reizei was, a living family member would be enough, but everyone was aware that was out of the question. That left a need for shinigami to help relieve some of the stress the Gods forced onto a single soul.
 
Kyoraku chuckled, and Isshin looked to him, confused. “I was just thinking how brave your son is. Even the prospect of enduring such a thing is frightening, and I’m a thousand years his senior. It’s kind of pathetic.”
 
“It isn’t pathetic,” Isshin reassured him. “My son is a madman.” He spoke the words fondly, and with a bit of regret.
 
Kyoraku had a feeling he knew where that sentiment was born. He’d seen Kurosaki more than once in a position he should feel nothing but terror, but he’d defaulted to rage and denial, and he really didn’t blame the boy, he wasn’t sure he could have fared much better, but the miracle was that he’d dealt with it at all. If he was a little mad by the end of it all, that wasn’t the worst that could happen.
 
That said, he was about to put his money where his mouth was. Kyoraku said, “His Zanpakuto is manifested and keeping guard, will he let me pass?”
 
Isshin made a sharp sound of disapproval. “

Ichigo

. Won’t even let people help you,” he growled. To Kyoraku he said, “Zangetsu will blatantly disregard what Ichigo wants to protect him. You’re on his side; I’ve never heard of a more overprotective spirit. Appeal to that side of him and he’ll let you through.”
 
“You’ve spoken with his Zanpakuto before?”
 
Isshin’s expression darkened and he looked away. “Plenty.” He changed the subject before Kyoraku could look deeper. “So am I going to be arrested for treason.”
 
Kyoraku’s thoughts were so far off base, he stared at him, confused. “Treason?”
 
“Yes,

treason

,” Isshin stressed. “The

treason

that you’re about to go tie your soul to.”
 
After a second to catch up, Kyoraku burst into laughter. “Arresting the father of a hero would look rather bad, wouldn’t it?” Isshin looked surprised, and Kyoraku thought it might have been from his choice of words. He much preferred to refer to Ichigo as a hero, than a martyr, or a monster, despite how true it might be. “And I don’t think I want to get on your son’s bad side. I’ve been there, and I’m not interested in repeating the experience.”
 
Isshin smiled, and it was a touch grim. “My son is pretty strong, isn’t he?”
 
“You’re being modest,” Kyoraku teased. Things had been too dour to not try to make light of it. There was nothing pleasant about losing their home, but perhaps now they could do things right. If there was even such a thing as doing things right.
 
Looking past Isshin to their haphazard camp, Kyoraku said, “Now I’m going to be irresponsible and manipulative and let you recruit my captains.”
 
Isshin scoffed. “Manipulative...I’m not the grieving father just yet.”
 
The quiet rage in his voice was so similar to what he’d once heard in Kurosaki’s voice; there was no doubting they were related. Kyoraku agreed, and tried to be positive. “And you won’t be, but regardless of circumstances, I’d find myself hard pressed to turn down a father asking me to help his son.”
 
“Solid point,” Isshin agreed. He joked, “Anyone you wouldn’t mind losing?”
 
“I don’t think I’m allowed to answer that,” Kyoraku said, although distantly he wouldn’t be terribly bothered if Kurotsuchi or Kenpachi volunteered. “Go, do your worst. I’ll give you an hour.” It had been days, the sooner they went through with this, the better.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Tensa Zangetsu
 
They knew this would happen, he should have expected the utter helplessness and pain he felt watching his wielder struggle like this. There was no more enemies left to kill to ease this suffering, there was no barrier between Ichigo's soul and the God's.
 
Like an open wound, his reiatsu fled him, his soul in severe distress. Ichigo was beyond soul suicide, Tensa Zangetsu couldn't believe he was still alive after all the power that had ripped through his soul.
 
Days had passed with no improvement. Ichigo laid still, ripples of power skirting over the ground around him, dark, light and void, all writhing, twisting for dominance when such a thing wasn’t possible. The Gods would either find balance, or Ichigo would die.
 
He was right to send Ichigo's friends away. To even come close to him now would be akin to grabbing a live wire. The only reason he had any protection at all was because he was an inseparable part of Ichigo, and Ichigo was strong.
 
There was the chance that the Gods would take steps to keep their host alive, and that could end with sacrifices, much like Grimmjow. He knew Ichigo would rather die than condemn his friends to the same fate. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
 
Seeing physical proof of his failure to protect his wielder ached. Ichigo's last bid effort to use Alteza alone had changed him, and it was all for nothing, in the end he was still forced to wash away the remnants of what made him mortal.
 
The slashes of estigma across his face and chest were wider and longer, no longer so angular, but rougher, jagged. His horns were pure black, as were his forearms. He looked more like Mictlan now than himself, it was more than worrying. Alteza had sunk so deep into his soul, there was no going back.
 
He’d sensed shinigami in his peripheral for days, they generally stayed away from the more heavily damaged areas, so he paid them no mind. When he sensed a shinigami heading directly towards him, he couldn’t ignore that. This wasn’t any shinigami, this was the soutaichou. He warned them, so why?
 
Tearing away from Ichigo’s side, he blurred into sonido, finding himself face to face with Kyoraku. The soutaichou seemed to be expecting him, he didn't seem surprised at all.
 
“What do you want?” Zangetsu asked.
 
Kyoraku gave him something of a pitying look. “I want to help Ichigo, same as you.”
 
He studied the shinigami, realizing he did seem to know what he was asking for. “And what would compel the soutaichou himself to offer up his own soul?”
 
“Is there a better person?” Kyoraku asked. “Kurosaki is the host for our God, and beyond that, he saved Soul Society. I have my own duty to fulfill, and a debt I can't possibly repay. Let me help him, Zangetsu.”
 
Eyes narrowing, Zangetsu had little issue with this, but would Ichigo? He didn't know, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd gone against his personal desires to save his life.
 
Kyoraku saw the indecision on his face and said, “I don't want to fight you, I'm not your enemy.”
 
Zangetsu only broke eye contact to look back in Ichigo's direction, then down at his own hand. He was barely held together, he would most likely lose a fight if Kyoraku asserted himself. He grit his teeth, looking back. “You are not enough, shinigami.”
 
“I'm not the only one,” Kyoraku said. “I'm just the first.”
 
The shinigami didn’t appear to be lying, but Zangetsu was still uncertain. “Is the soutaichou so ready to throw away his life?” If Kyoraku was making a mistake out of duty, Ichigo would be shattered. If he lived at all.
 
Kyoraku took a small step closer. “I'm not one to waste a life on honor, but I can't deny that this feels fitting. If I was strong enough to take his place, I would, but I'm not. Allow me this, Zanpakuto.”
 
The shinigami was serious, and Tensa Zangetsu didn't have the will to deny him. He sighed, and took a small step back, relenting. “Come with me.” He turned away in a small burst of sonido, moving in a way that Kyoraku could follow. He stopped a few yards away, checking to see the effect it had on Kyoraku.
 
The shinigami had stopped short, stepping to the side when a flicker of das licht sparked too close for comfort. He didn’t seem particularly comfortable being this close, and from the way he clenched his jaw, he might be in pain. If

that

put him off, he was in for a ride.
 
“What do I need to do?” Kyoraku asked. His eyes raked over his unconscious wielder, likely searching for some physical sign they he was dying. He wouldn’t find one, Ichigo’s high speed regeneration was too good for that, but his problems went beyond skin deep.
 
Zangetsu said, “Touch him. That should be enough.” It still pained him to see Ichigo so weak, the Gods couldn’t even force him to move, he’d watched them try, and the damage it did had them stop before they broke their precious host. The Gods were ravenous inside his wielder. They couldn’t act through Ichigo without killing him, but to drag someone else in to keep Ichigo from drowning would be effortless.
 
Kyoraku stepped around him towards Ichigo, wincing when it was no longer possible to avoid the reaching tendrils of dark and light. Sunyata was there, it filled most of the area, but Kyoraku hadn’t noticed, or couldn’t notice. If Sunyata hadn’t killed him the second he got close, then it was going out of its way to let Kyoraku live for the sake of itself and its host.
 
Kyoraku stood just beside Ichigo, crouching next to him, but he hesitated before he touched him. Tensa Zangetsu said, “For the sake of my wielder, I hope you’re strong enough.”
 
The shinigami smiled ruefully. “For

my

sake, I hope I am.” So he said, but he didn’t know Ichigo, he wasn’t there for his wielder, he was there for everyone else. Like Ichigo, he suffered from the same plague of self-sacrifice. This time it was in his favor, so he couldn’t fault the shinigami for it.
 
Kyoraku closed the distance to Ichigo’s bare shoulder, and the instant he made contact, power surged into the shinigami and he would have collapsed had Zangetsu not caught him.
 
Dragging the shinigami away, the vestiges of power around the shinigami cut straight through him. He dropped him only a couple of feet away from Ichigo, the shinigami literally slipping through his grip. As it was with Grimmjow, Sunyata began to carve a place for itself in Kyoraku’s soul.
 
This went far, far faster than with the Espada. Sunyata overcame Kyoraku’s soul like a brushfire, and already sought more. Ichigo’s body moved of its own volition, unnatural and perverse in the way the Gods compelled his body to action.
 
Ichigo jerkily stood, and walked straight through him.
 
Zangetsu opened his eyes in Ichigo’s inner world, once again sidelined into being a bystander.
 
Ichigo’s inner world was completely silent, and it didn’t bring the peace he hoped it would; he hated it. He stood in the red glare of a frozen eclipse, the sands roiling around his sinking city, and Ichigo wasn’t there.
 
There was nothing more Zangetsu could do, Ichigo’s fate was in the hands of the people he’d killed himself to protect.
 
--- xxx ---
 
Next chapter should be out real soon tho. I don’t want to say

later

, but definitely soon. I had a bunch more in this chapter, but decided to cut it off here, it felt more fitting.
 
Kūgeki: Void
 
Current Espada Ranking

King Strawberry

Fraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel
 
0 - Harribel

1 - Ulquiorra

2 - Starrk & Lilynette

3 - Grimmjow

4 - Zommari

5 - Szayelaporro Granz

6 - Shawlong

7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)

8 - Yylfordt Granz

9 - Edrad Liones

10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kuchiki Rukia

Flashback
 There was no question in her mind that she was going to go through with this. She was helping Ichigo. She wasn’t sure if she could pin down the emotion that compelled her to act, it was too many things to label. She didn’t feel right calling it love. Love took different forms, but this felt like something else. She might have known Ichigo once, but she didn’t know this Ichigo. She wasn’t sure what to call it, but his pure and honest desire to protect people inspired a loyalty to him that she couldn’t just pretend didn’t exist. She stood apart from the others with her brother. His arm was still bandaged and in a sling, but he was healing, he would likely be completely back to normal in another two weeks or so. Being injured didn’t lessen the oppressive glare of his disapproval. “Nii-san, nothing you can say to me will change my mind.” He let out a quiet exhale, looking to Ichigo’s father. “I’m aware.” He sounded disappointed, an edge of defeat in his voice. Rukia steeled her heart against it, looking away in a flash of guilt. Her brother hid his emotions well, but not from her. She knew how much her decision pained him. She was sorry, but she wasn’t going to change her mind. She was surprised when Byakuya reached for her, fingertips not quite touching her face to draw her attention back to him. His hand fell once he had it, and when he spoke, he surprised her. “Which is why I’m volunteering.” “But, nii-sama, you-” “Rukia.” He turned to face her fully, his expression softening. “Just as you have decided, so have I. If the choice is mine, I won’t allow you to go through this alone.” The words he chose were deliberate, and they stuck in her heart in a painful reminder that in his quiet, reserved way, he loved her. She managed a smile. “Thank you, nii-sama.” Seireitei might be gone, but her brother wasn’t going to lose the poise and grace of the noble he very much was. He said, “You’ve become strong, Rukia. You have just as much of a chance to survive this as any captain.” It wasn’t often her brother praised her, and it filled her with a deep sense of pride to finally receive the acknowledgement she craved. She smiled wider, and her brother seemed uncertain how to continue, so she saved him the stress and returned to Isshin, who was busy arguing with Kurotsuchi. “Can you really afford to refuse?” the scientist asked. Shinji threw his head back and groaned, “Give it up, he said no.” Isshin folded his arms. “You’re a criminal.” He said it like this wasn’t the first time those words had left his mouth. Kurotsuchi smiled. “ Was . It isn’t like the visored is some kind of saint.” “He’s my son, he gets a pass. No.” Raising her hand, Rukia interjected. “I’ll do it.” Isshin turned to look at her, slightly skeptical. “Not to be rude, but…” Byakuya spoke up from behind her. “Rukia has acquired bankai, she’s strong enough.” Renji’s eyes widened, looking at her in shock. She felt a blush on her cheeks and she shrugged, “You didn’t think I’d let you be the only one to get bankai, did you?” Isshin looked at her, surprised, and maybe a bit confused. It was hard to connect the bumbling dad to the captain standing in front of her. Clearly Isshin had been well aware of what she and his son and been up to for the time she’d stayed there. Rukia huffed, feeling defensive. “If Urahara hadn’t stuck me in a power leeching gigai I wouldn’t have needed Ichigo’s help.” Shinji leaned in, tilting his head at an uncomfortable looking angle. “He stuck you in a depowered gigai? Why?” So much had happened, Rukia actually had to pause to remember. “To destroy the Hogyoku.” “Huh,” Shinji said. His tone was dripping in sarcasm. “That went well.” Her brother spoke up. “I also volunteer.” Renji finally put his hand up. “I also volunteer.” “Let me guess,” Isshin said, “You also have bankai.” Renji’s smile was outright savage. Isshin huffed, “Do they just hand bankai out at the door these days? That’s what...three shinigami that aren’t a captain?” Kyoraku laughed. ‘What can I say? We have a lot of talented youth.” “How many does that make?” Rukia asked. Isshin said, “You, pretty boy, Shinji, redhead, Kyoraku, shorty, the angry guy, baldy-” “WHAT?!” Ikkaku screeched. “And Gin,” Isshin finished. Rukia decided Ichigo inherited his luck with names from his father. “Angry guy,” she said slowly. Zaraki’s face split into a crazy smile. “Can’t beat the shit out of someone that’s dead.” Well that explained that one, and given the look of pure ice Hitsugaya shot Isshin when he said 'shorty’, for once someone wasn't talking about her. Mayuri complained, “You let the mass murderer do it, but not me? I’m hurt. ” Isshin bit back. “My son hates you. No .” He rubbed his temple and growled, “I feel like I’m arranging a marriage.” Shinji chuckled. “A weird, polygamous marriage.” “This is not how I imagined this would go. God, my son is going to hate me.” Isshin sighed, looking across at the captains. “Anyone else?” Komamura looked to Tousen, who still hadn’t moved from beneath a tree some distance away, then took a concise step forward. “I volunteer.” Rukia wasn’t too surprised, although for the same reasons she thought Komamura volunteered, she thought that Tousen chose not to. It seemed like both had very conflicting ideas on what was right and wrong. Rukia was just glad there was no talk of failure. This would work, it would be enough. Ukitake caught Rukia’s eye, looking deeply apologetic. “If I could help.” Kyoraku put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “I won’t let you kill yourself. Besides, someone has to stay behind and take charge.” In case anything went wrong. Rukia could only hope that wasn’t the case. According to Urahara, this practice used to be quite common, expected even. That didn’t make it safe, but it wasn’t so unknown. The soutaicho looked to Isshin and asked, “Is this enough?” Isshin’s expression darkened and he answered, “It’s going to have to be.” --- xxx --- 
Kurosaki Ichigo
Ichigo woke up. He blinked up at a shockingly blue sky, and was put off by how non violent that was. His life wasn’t at risk and...should it be? The whispers and howls of the Gods were quieter, distant. He realized he was staring directly at the sun. Even children knew not to stare at the sun, but it didn’t hurt, so he hadn’t considered he shouldn’t. He closed his fingers into a fist, feeling cool blades of grass and claws. He was in resurreccion? It didn’t feel like it. 
“King?”
 There were a few scattered clouds overhead, cottony wisps tugged by the wind that made him oddly nostalgic for home, yet the reishi in the air betrayed where he was. Everything was so bright, so sharp, like an autumn day. “I feel weird.” 
“You mean you feel normal.”
 “Let’s go with that.” He noticed the horns in his peripheral; they were dark, he hadn’t considered they were his until he tilted his head back to look and he had no better luck seeing them. What the fuck happened? He didn’t remember, everything was a blur. He rolled to his side and pushed himself to sit up, shockingly stiff. “Ow.” He lifted his hand, pushing his hair out of his face. Was that his hair? It was black, and that didn't make sense. Trying to push his hair out of his face only helped until his fingers ran up against his utterly inconvenient horns. “Zangetsu?” “What do you remember?” It was a probing question, and one that alluded to Zangetsu knowing more than he was letting on. Sitting down, he rubbed his hand over his face and looked around. It gave him no hints; it was gently wooded, calm, and he seemed to be alone. He cast his senses out like a drag net over all of Soul Society, sensing something was amiss. He lurched to his feet in surprise. It all came flooding back at once. Ishida, Inoue…   “It’s been over a month, King.” His hollow didn’t sound overly concerned, but Ichigo still feared he had reason enough to panic. A month was a huge amount of time to just nap through. “I remember killing Reizei, but nothing after. What the fuck happened?” 
“Look deeper, Ichigo.”
 Ichigo did what Ossan told him, and was surprised to find his circle of conduits had grown exponentially. “I don’t understand...Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, Kenpachi, Kyoraku, Shinji…” and there were more, just about every shinigami taicho he knew was a conduit to his soul. He realized it was every shinigami with bankai, and then some . “What is this?” 
“You were dying, Ichigo.”
 Alarm kicked up his pulse. “You let them do this?!”  “Do you disparage their choice?” Ossan’s voice was gentle. “They knew the risks, and they acted anyway.”  Ichigo let out a long, slow breath, his panic smoothing over into rationality. If they were conduits, they could feel what he felt, to an extent, including crippling guilt. Ossan was right; What’s done was done. Guilting himself over it only lessened what they’d done, and he had nothing but respect for these shinigami. Forcing those thoughts aside, he asked, “My family?” 
“Kisuke was looking out for them, and they were looking out for you.”
 A tight bundle of stress nwound at that knowledge, but Ossan’s wording raised questions. “What do you mean?”  “You father went to great deal of effort to be sure the shinigami knew how to help you.” Ichigo wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard an edge of amusement in his voice. It figured his father would act; if not simply for his sake, then for his sisters. Even hearing it second hand made his chest tight. He knew his father gave a damn, but he had a feeling ‘a great deal’ probably entailed a whole bunch of shit he wasn’t aware of. Nothing was ever that easy. Ichigo finally looked around. “So where the fuck am I?” 
“You were unconscious while Sunyata dissipated. The God...infected the shinigami it needed, and made you sleep.”
 
“The plants are new. We thought it had something to do with Sunyata. Fucker needed an outlet for all that excess power, and instead of undoing everything, we think you willed it into bringin’ all the plants back.”
 Ichigo looked around at the grass, the trees. They were the green that came after spring rain, and every tree and leaf was nearly unmarked, perfect. “ I did this?” 
“If not you, then Sunyata, by contact alone.”
 
“The shinigami knew to keep their distance. Seireitei is gone, they’re all clustered to the North. You should go to them, they’ve been waiting.”
 Seireitei was gone? He narrowed his focus and realized that his mental map of Soul Society was different. He couldn’t sense walls, not really, but nothing was where he expected it be. Ichigo broke that information down further and wondered how Zangetsu knew that. “You’ve been manifesting?” 
“Yes. A few days after you fell unconscious we found that we could. We kept curious souls from getting too close. A forest springing up from nowhere garnered a lot of unwanted attention.”
 Ichigo didn’t bother thanking them for that, he knew they could feel his relief and gratitude. He looked down at his hair and frowned; he looked like Mictlan. He’d always been proud to have his mother’s hair, and now Alteza had taken that from him too. He felt the reaction from his spirits and he demanded, “What else?” 
“Your eyes are different.”
 “How do you know that?” Ichigo asked. 
“A passing comment. We reflect you, Ichigo. Your irises resemble Adaliz’s.”
 “Great, so I’m more of a freak than before.” Everything about his mother that he shared was gone. 
“You have her heart, Ichigo.”
 “Do I?” he answered blithely. His chest was tight with all sorts of emotions he didn’t even know where to begin to address. It shouldn’t bother him so much, but it did. 
“It’s the part of you we hate the most, Ichigo. Your desire to protect.”
 Ichigo stopped the spiral of his thoughts and focused instead on everyone else. He was still alive, thanks to the shinigami. He killed Yama-jii, he’d been on their top hit list, and they saved him? “What a weird feeling,” he said. He blinked his vision blurred, and realized he was crying. He let out a haggard laugh. “The fuck do I have to cry about?” 
“You’re alive, and ya really don’t have any right to be.”
 He really didn’t. He couldn’t face anyone like this, it was a relief in and of itself to find that things weren’t falling apart, that the universe wasn’t one jenga block away from annihilation. It felt like all the permission he’d needed to unravel. He cried like a bitch, sitting back down on the grass to just enjoy the fact that he wasn’t currently in pain or dying, and neither was anyone else. He closed his eyes and searched his soul for the people he’d used. He sensed Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, the Quincy, even Ishida. All alive, and by the skin of their teeth. He let out a long, slow breath and laid back down again on cool grass. He could thank them in a bit, but for now, he just wanted to breathe. He’d been gone a month, they could wait another hour for him to pull himself back together. --- xxx --- Ichigo felt strange showing up at the shinigami’s camp. Mostly because he wasn’t there to threaten anyone, fight for his life, or steal anything. He showed up at quite a distance, the unseated shinigami scattering like pigeons in a park. Ichigo wasn’t sure if he was flattered or insulted, so he settled for a combination of both. Hovering around the edge of the camp was every shinigami currently holding a timeshare in his soul. The captains were expecting him, it seemed. They’d had a month to get used to cozying up to his soul, it’s no wonder they knew he was coming. He didn’t like that that was the case, but he also didn’t like being dead. He caught sight of Rukia, and she had absolutely no qualms using shunpo to throw herself into a crushing hug. “Ichigo!” She had quite the grip for a little thing. Any hesitation she had in the past had evaporated, although she was cheating now that she knew for certain he wasn’t going to hurt her. “I thought you’d never wake up!”  “That lying bitch,” Zangetsu muttered, “We came back three times to tell her you were going to be just fine.”  Ichigo couldn’t help but smile, and it still felt foreign on his face. He awkwardly hugged her back, unsure where to put his hands, and it really shouldn’t have stressed him as much as it did. “Well I did, and I got enough sleep to last me another year. You won’t believe how achy I am.” He wasn’t hungry either, which he chalked up to die Konigin and his Quincy side. She pushed back and looked down at the hole in his chest. “Is this permanent?” “Maybe, I’m not sure yet.” He honestly hoped it wasn’t. Kyoraku broke off from the rest to walk over to him, calling out. “How do you feel?” Rukia took a step to the side, shifting to be somewhat more formal, but the stupid grin on her face ruined the effect. Ichigo answered honestly. “Pretty good, actually.” He didn’t feel like his soul was being pulled through a meat grinder for once. He started to bend into a bow of gratitude, but Kyoraku stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Ichigo gave him a confused look as Kyoraku spoke. “No, Kurosaki-sama.” Sama? “I hate honorifics,” Ichigo said mechanically. Kyoraku smiled. “Then bear with it just this once.” He bent into a low bow, one Ichigo didn’t feel nearly comfortable enough receiving. “Thank you, Kurosaki-sama.” Ichigo felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Hey, hey, I don’t deserve that, I came here to thank you , now you’re making me feel really stupid.” Kyoraku straightened and chuckled, replacing his hat. “It needed to be done, and as the soutaichou, that’s my duty, just as you have yours.” Ichigo hadn’t ever considered it that way before. Kyoraku wasn’t talking about his position in Hueco Mundo, he meant as a host. He’d considered himself an outlier for being one, let alone the host for all three, but this was relatively new to him. “I can still thank you for saving my life.” Kyoraku smiled. “It’s one of the few big decisions in my life I don’t regret, Kurosaki. Especially now that I know I was right about you.” Ichigo didn’t think it was possible to blush harder, but he did. It was very weird to have his soul be an open book to so many people. Kyoraku added. “I imagine that isn’t the most comfortable breach of privacy. We all already agreed to keep whatever we feel to ourselves. Your secrets are safe with us, Kurosaki.” Even if that was to be assumed, it was a relief to hear. Ichigo started, “I...I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what to say.” Rukia gave his arm a light punch. “You say thanks and we all move on.” Ichigo took her advice. “I mean...thank you. Ahh, speaking of that. Seireitei is…” He didn’t know the polite way to end that statement, or if there even was one. Kyoraku finished it for him. “Gone. Yes. And we’re making do.” He gave him a smile that betrayed some of his exhaustion. He could have hidden that, but Ichigo was glad he didn’t. It felt...fair. Ichigo looked down at his own, clawed hand, thoughtful. “Once I understand just what it is Sunyata can do, maybe I can help.” “Help will always be accepted,” Kyoraku said, “but know that we don’t expect it. Don’t push yourself.” Ichigo gave him a half smile, parroting his words back at him. “You have your duty, and I have mine.” They both seemed content to leave it at that, so Rukia changed the subject. “Are you going to stay?” Ichigo shot her a guilty look. “I wanted to thank you, but I have no idea what’s going on in Hueco Mundo, I should go.” And he wasn’t too fond of groups, especially groups where he was the focus. He would go to the living world first, but Zangetsu caught him up to speed on what he’d missed, his family was just fine, and the only grey area in his life was Hueco Mundo. Kyoraku said, “Don’t be shy coming back. You’re welcome here.” Brows furrowing, Ichigo admitted, “I feel like I don’t deserve that.” And he had a laundry list of reasons why. A look of understanding took over Kyoraku’s expression. “If you can forgive us for what we’ve done, the least I can do is take steps to do the same. Spite gets us nowhere, and it appears that we need each other.” Ichigo’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. He wanted to deny that claim, but Kyoraku could quite literally feel that it was true. He finally spoke. “I need to go, before I say something else that’s stupid.” Laughing, Rukia, gave his arm a friendly slap. “Come back soon, Ichigo.” “Yeah...yeah I will.” It was surreal to be involved in such a normal conversation, it was almost giving him anxiety with how safe it was. He gave the other shinigami a final look, and gave Kyoraku a small mock salute. “See you around.” La sangre swallowed him up, setting him down in what should have been the heart of Las Noches. He knew it would be bad, but it was worse than he’d hoped. He sighed, looking over the ruins, and then looked up, noting that the sky wasn’t moving, it was only dark, and none of the whispers that plagued Hueco Mundo seemed to be present outside of his own head. That was some of the best news he’d gotten since discovering he was alive. 
‘I’m ruined, I can’t even have a simple conversation anymore.’
 
“Calm down, it wasn’t that bad.”
 
‘It was, I was blushing like a virgin. I couldn’t even face the rest of them.’
  “You are a vrigin.”  
‘Yeah, so I would know.’
 
“You’re a weird loner, get over it.”
 
‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’
 
“No.”
  “Asshole,” Ichigo muttered. He pinpointed Grimmjow’s location, then jumped straight to him, aware of how hazardous that might be. Blazing blue eyes fixed on his in utter shock, and then the Espada punched him straight in the face. “MOTHERFUCKER!” Grimmjow screamed. Ichigo could have dodged, but he thought it might be more cathartic if Grimmjow actually hit him. His fist hit him square in the nose, which didn’t hurt thanks to his hierro, but Ichigo got the message. He growled, “You know I hate that word!” “Fine,” Grimmjow growled, accenting each word with a punch Ichigo decided to block. “LYING, FUCKING PRICK! Is that better?” “THANK YOU!” Ichigo shouted back. “Why are you hitting me?!” Starrk was only a few feet behind Grimmjow, asking dryly, “Why are you both shouting?” “I don’t know!” Ichigo shouted back, angry in his confusion. Grimmjow answered, “You left me here with no plan, no nothing. You knew you were going to go fight that asshole and you said jack shit about it. I had to read your emotions like some kind of low rent fuckin’ psychic to know what the fuck was going on at all.” “Do you want an apology?” Ichigo asked. Grimmjow’s eyes widened like that was the last thing he expected and he defaulted back to insults. “Fuck you!” “I’m sorry,” Ichigo said. He was still raising his voice, but he didn’t think it could be called shouting. He didn’t think Grimmjow gave that much of a shit about him, but apparently he did. His fraccion growled at him, hackles still raised. “Left me here to use me up like a goddamned battery. Fuck you!” Ichigo sighed, defeated much more quickly than usual. Grimmjow wanted to fight, but for once, Ichigo didn’t feel like it. “Grimmjow, I’m sorry.” He knew the Espada enough to know how similar they were. Anger was often a mask for something else. In this case, Ichigo thought it might be fear. Grimmjow just glared at him and Ichigo said, “Look, I’m just happy you’re alive. You wanna pick a fight, talk to Zangetsu.” “I don’t want to talk to yer fuckin’ hollow.” He blinked, like he was seeing him for the first time. “What happened to your hair?” It was such a left field question, Ichigo blinked back at him, caught off guard. “My hair…” He looked down at it, and Grimmjow amended his statement. “You look different.” Ichigo agreed bitterly, “Yes, I look different. Bit off more than I could chew.” “This is Alteza’s fault?” Grimmjow asked. “All of them, I think, but I fucked up using la sangre first. I didn’t want to lose ground to all the Gods, but that’s exactly what ended up happening.” Grimmjow started, “You look a lot like-” “Don’t say it,” Ichigo interrupted, a bit harsher than he intended, but he was feeling a little testy about his appearance. Starrk took that opportunity to shift the conversation, “We didn’t hear from you, we thought you were dead.” “You did?” Ichigo said. That was news to him, but from what he understood, no one had been in contact with Hueco Mundo for the entirety of his extended nap. “What were we supposed to think?” Grimmjow asked. Ichigo focused his attention on his fraccion and asked, “ You thought I was dead?” Grimmjow crossed his arms, defensive in his anger. “I knew you were alive, but I guess it explains why there was nothing to feel.” He growled under his breath. “We don’t hear from you for a month , can’t even use a garganta to leave.” Ichigo questioned, “You can’t leave?” “No,” Starrk answered. “The space between worlds is highly unstable, no one wants to risk it. The phone that survived doesn’t work either.” That must have been frustrating. Ichigo’s brows furrowed, swiping a hand over his face. “I was unconscious up until uhhh, an hour ago? I didn’t know.” Grimmjow’s expression had shifted as he spoke from anger to something more akin to distress. “How are you even alive?” The Espada asked. “You fought a God. You seem...surprisingly okay.” “ I seem okay,” Ichigo snorted, “ You seem okay.” Ichigo’s doubt seemed to unsettle Grimmjow, the Espada’s brows drawing together. When it became clear Grimmjow had no intention of elaborating, Starrk answered for him. “He wasn’t okay. You’ve been gone over a month, he just got back up on his feet about a week ago.” Grimmjow shot Starrk a venomous look, looking betrayed. Starrk shrugged and said, “He was going to find out eventually, I don’t see why you’re so upset.” Starrk kept going since Grimmjow didn’t get violent. “Candice was unconscious too, but she recovered much quicker. We assumed it was because she’s still a living soul.” Starrk shrugged again, “But who the fuck knows. I’m glad you’re back, Grimmjow’s been a real asshole.” “Fuck you too, Starrk,” Grimmjow growled. Ichigo looked between the two of them, confused, and Starrk said, “He’s picking fights with everyone . I’m not hanging around because we’re friends , Harribel made me the babysitter.” Ichigo frowned at Grimmjow as the Espada snarled, “Don’t talk like I’m not here!” “Why you?” Ichigo asked. “Because I’m the only arrancar with the patience of a saint,” Starrk answered, “and Nel’s busy with Candice.” If Grimmjow ground his teeth any harder, Ichigo thought they might shatter. “So now that you’re back, he’s your responsibility again.” Starrk turned to go, and when Grimmjow reached for him, Ichigo caught his wrist in an iron grip. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” Grimmjow’s eyes widened in outrage, whirling on him with his free arm, despite how awkward the position was. Ichigo caught his other arm and held him still. “ Relax ,” he stressed. Starrk took his chance to leave, clearly eager to be rid of the other Espada. Wrenching his arms in his grip, Grimmjow abandoned that course of action and leaned in, baring his teeth like a wildcat. “ Relax?! ” Ichigo ignored his tone and took him seriously. “Yes, Grimmjow. Please .” Some of his exhaustion leaked into his tone. ”For once, just relax.” Maybe it was a mistake, but he let the Espada go. His fraccion seemed unsure what to do with his sudden freedom, so he settled on stepping back out of arm’s reach, If that made him feel better, fine, Ichigo could leave him his space. Ichigo asked, “What am I apologizing for?” The Espada narrowed his eyes like Ichigo was trying to trap him. “Using you? Leaving you behind? Lying to you?” “Doesn’t an apology lose it’s meaning if you have to ask what it’s for?” Grimmjow asked. “I’m asking, because I’m trying to apologize for all of these things.” “Why are you apologizing at all?!” Grimmjow asked. Something wasn’t lining up for the Espada, enough to annoy him enough to make him violent. Ichigo had a feeling it had absolutely nothing to do with an apology. He might have tamed Grimmjow somewhat from what he used to be, but Ichigo was under no false delusions that the Espada wasn’t every bit the wild thing he was when they first met. “You were my last resort. You thought I left you behind because you’re weak ?” Those words in particular seemed to knock the fight right out of Grimmjow, the Espada’s eyes widening in shock. So that was it, this same song and dance that Grimmjow didn’t seem to understand. “I’d be dead without you, and it isn’t just because you’re an arrancar. You’re strong, Grimmjow.” “Doesn’t feel like it,” the Espada injected. “Perspective,” Ichigo said. “How do you think I feel? I can barely look directly at the Gods without feeling like I’m losing my mind. I get it, it’s scary.” “I ain’t scared,” Grimmjow lied. Ichigo did him the courtesy of not rolling his eyes. He said it often enough, they both knew it was a lie. Ichigo reminded him. “Fear doesn’t make you weak.” Grimmjow humored him. “Let’s say that it doesn’t. It’s still a reminder that I’m weak.” Ichigo realized it wasn’t that Grimmjow expected to be able to physically beat down his fears, it was that it was a battle he couldn’t win. Starrk’s irritation spoke volumes, Grimmjow got violent when he found a problem he couldn’t unravel. “So what is it really, Grimmjow?” The Espada narrowed his eyes, and Ichigo thought he was going to get blown off, but to his surprise, Grimmjow actually answered, “Everything.” He hissed in disgust, “ Dying alone . I always thought that was a load of shit. Of course everyone dies alone, it’s a one man game.” Ichigo was figuring it out in bits and pieces, it didn’t help that it didn’t even seem like Grimmjow knew entirely what the problem was. Ichigo took a cautious step forward, and when Grimmjow didn’t back away, he reached out for his mask. The Espada could be flighty, he proved a much when he jerked back at the last second. Ichigo paused and said, “Two way street.” Grimmjow could sense his soul, and he knew him well enough to uncover what most of it meant. If it was going to be fair, Grimmjow would have to share. He didn’t have to, but the reminder was enough to compel the Espada to stay still. His fingertips rested on cool bone, making only as much contact as he needed to. Grimmjow glared at him, as if challenging Ichigo to question his heart. Grimmjow was a wreck, and Ichigo was shocked to find he was at the center of it. It was strange to Ichigo to feel undeniable proof that he’d made enough waves in someone’s life that his absence had mattered . Grimmjow grew increasingly uncomfortable the longer Ichigo was silent. The Espada finally leaned back out of reach and growled, baring his teeth in aggression. “Now you can’t ever say I ain’t fair .” Despite the challenge in his voice, Grimmjow broke eye contact first. “Grimmjow-” “You think I don't know how close you got to dying? Hell, you were dying. I felt it. And my ass was stuck here, dyin’ too.” He ran his hands through his hair and turned away, irritation masking his stress. “Fuck!” “I didn't know...” Ichigo paused at the glare Grimmjow shot him, and he considered his words more carefully. “I didn’t know you cared that much.” Grimmjow bared his teeth in what looked to be pained disgust. “ Yeah , I give a shit. I had a lot of time to think. I fucking hate that.” “Clearly,” Ichigo commented dryly. “Realized if I ended up dead, I wasn't dying alone. You've got people relying on you. You'd let me die in a heartbeat if it would save them.” “Grimmj-” “SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME FINISH!” Grimmjow was breathing hard, eyes burning with something he’d only seen in his eyes when he was ready to kill something. If this is the point Grimmjow had been at since he woke up, he had to wonder who was dead, or close to it, for Harribel to have Starrk dog his steps. He thought Grimmjow was working himself up for very little payoff, but this clearly meant a great deal to the Espada. Grimmjow kept talking, pacing and avoiding eye contact. “That means I die first. Every scenario I could think of, I die first. I'm weaker, I die first , it isn't fucking complicated.” He was starting to rant, Ichigo didn't think it was all Grimmjow, some of it had to be Alteza. His argument was still sound, but it was cranking his instincts to the extreme. Ichigo felt this was his fault; his actions had consequences, and Alteza had sunk just as deeply into Grimmjow soul as his own. Grimmjow carried on, oblivious to that sliver of regret. The Espada ran a hand through his hair as he turned, fixing him with a glare. “But you would. How fucking fair is that?” “I have Zangetsu…” Ichigo ventured. Scoffing, Grimmjow blew him off. “Just because you can literally kiss your ass goodbye doesn't mean you're not alone. Zangetsu is you .” Ichigo frowned. If Grimmjow was so certain of that, he knew him much better than he expected. The Espada might not be eloquent, but he wasn't stupid. Ichigo asked slowly. “How did you know I was alone?” “You think I can’t feel it when you’re lonely? Took me awhile to figure it out because you’re a tricky bastard; you’re always lonely. That isn’t it though, you feel different when you’re alone.” Grimmjow suddenly faced him and his words burned him like a brand. “You wanted to die.” Ichigo paled, taking a small step back at the accusation, because it was true, and the shame sank into his heart like a cold blade. Grimmjow didn’t let up. “I felt it,” Grimmjow advanced on him, gripping the front of his kosode in his fists. “You’re held together by obligation and sacrifice and ghosts. You’re living for everyone else.” His voice was rougher than he thought Grimmjow meant it to be. “Just stop.” Throwing him backward, Ichigo stumbled, his back hitting a wall. Grimmjow trapped him there with a hand on the wall and snarled, “I hate the guilt. Stop tearing yourself up because we’re all fucking weak. Stop!” “I can’t do that,” Ichigo answered stiffly. Grimmjow slapped his hand into the wall by his face. “YOU CAN!” The Espada leaned in, something blazing so darkly in his eyes, Ichigo wondered if it was hate. “You can.” Ichigo stared at him, “Why now? What changed?” Grimmjow smiled, the look far from friendly. “Perspective.” He pushed back from the wall, calmer now that he could vent. He continued, “I think I always knew, but I didn’t really understand.” “Understand what?” Ichigo asked. The Espada shot him a look that was a confusingly fond and spiteful. “You’re crazy, Kurosaki. Most things have some sense of self preservation.” He snorted. “Not you.” Ichigo pushed away from the wall, watching the Espada cautiously. Grimmjow might not be able to hurt him, but words could cut deep. “I can’t just change, Grimmjow.” The Espada let out a bitter bark of laughter. “Why do you think I’m so angry? Fuck you, Kurosaki. Try .” Without his notice, Grimmjow had come to see him as something more, and Ichigo had either shattered his expectations, or hadn’t lived up to the reality. Ichigo had any number of things he could ask, but he settled on the simplest. “Why?” “Because I’m a selfish prick!” Grimmjow shouted. “I have nothing !” His eyes widened, shocked by his own admission, but he couldn’t take it back, and from the look on his face, he believed it was true. He let his words lie, turning it on Ichigo instead. “You have family, you’ve still got friends, they all give a damn about you, and it still isn’t enough.” Ichigo wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say. He fought for them, he loved them, but it wasn’t for himself, it was born out of a desperate desire. One Grimmjow had finally dragged into the light, and it was just as unpleasant as he feared it would be. Ichigo said quietly. “You’ve got me.” It felt fucking stupid to say aloud, especially when Grimmjow didn’t believe it. “Liar,” Grimmjow snarled. “I’m the thing that keeps you alive so you can save all the people you give a damn about.” “You know that’s not true,” Ichigo said. “Isn’t it?” Anger boiled in him and he moved faster than he intended, suddenly before him, his claws gripping Grimmjow’s mask fragment to drag him in close. “You think a moment of weakness defines me?” Grimmjow stared at him with wide eyes, but he wasn’t afraid. That was new. Ichigo emphasized, “You. Have. Me .” Claws scraping against bone, Ichigo could feel Grimmjow’s doubt, his confusion, but buried in there was hope. He let him go, and Grimmjow didn’t move back. “It isn’t a one way street.” Grimmjow just stared at him, so he kept going. “This is going to sound fucked, but I’ve bled you, hurt you, and damn near killed you more than once, but I don’t keep putting you back together again for kicks.” It was about the closest he was going to get to outright saying he liked him. Grimmjow was a violent, loud, asshole, but he was also more determined than a food-driven cat. His negatives looked like positives to Ichigo. Seeing him agonize over this felt wrong. Ichigo said, “I already lived in a world without you once, and it felt a hell of a lot smaller, and I barely knew you.” Tearing his eyes away, Grimmjow scoffed, “What's there to know?” A laugh snuck out of Ichigo and he said, “That's what I thought.” He stared at the Espada, realizing he didn't know what he was to him. He wasn't a punching bag, a rival, or simply a subordinate, he was...Grimmjow. He wasn't even sure he'd call him a friend. “You don't like feeling my despair. That's fair.” “I hate it,” Grimmjow growled. Ichigo let out a soft sound of agreement. “That's fair.” He let the silence stretch too long, and it was hard to break. “I didn't want to die.” Grimmjow looked at him. “I just had a moment where it was tempting to...stop. Maybe I didn't keep at it for myself, but I'm working on it.” Grimmjow repeated flatly. “Keep at it…” He shot him a look of disgust. “Kurosaki, it's called living.” “Fuck off, I'm in a weird mood.” Ichigo circled back to what Grimmjow said before. He said he had nothing, but it was implied in all that Grimmjow hadn't said that he put a lot of weight on Ichigo's presence. He could see where the stress was born from, Grimmjow had been to hell and back for him. If Ichigo thought being able to read someone's heart made it easier to untangle them, he was sorely mistaken. He didn't know what to say, or if there was even anything he could say to change it. Grimmjow shifted his weight, shoving his hands in his pockets and said, “I'm glad you aren't dead.” “Regardless of what you think, me too, Grimmjow.” He hadn't completely botched that, Grimmjow actually looked like he felt better, even if Ichigo didn't know why. “You good?” Grimmjow scowled and bit back. “Are you ?” “Better than I was. A lot better.” Ichigo saw the skepticism on the arrancar. “You don’t believe me.” Lifting a shoulder in a sheepish shrug, Grimmjow said, “You are what you eat.” His tone turned incredulous. “Pardon me for worrying about the consequences.” “I’m still figuring out what’s different,” Ichigo said. “Did you look in a mirror ?” “You know what I mean!” Ichigo tried not to sound so annoyed, but he couldn’t bite back all of it. He turned the subject away from himself before it turned into another argument. “I should probably fix all this.” Grimmjow gave him another skeptical look. “You up for that?” Ichigo pinned him with a mock hurt look. “I was dying. Past tense . I’m not crippled.” “You should talk to Harribel first,” Grimmjow said. Ichigo winced, and the Espada didn’t miss the opportunity to tease. “Scared?” “Are you saying you wouldn’t be?” Ichigo asked. He paused when he realized he was responsible for whatever his fraccion might have done with he was unconscious. “What did you do?” “Why are you assuming I did something?” “So Harribel paired you with another Espada for no good reason.” Grimmjow scowled. “Didn’t say that.” Ichigo looked at him expectantly, and Grimmjow conceded. “Fine. I beat the ever loving shit out of Szayel. Mila tried to break it up, but I beat her up too and went back for Szayel, but the brat stepped in and stopped me.” Not a storyteller, but it explained why Harribel felt the need to give him a babysitter. Ichigo asked, “The brat...Nel?” Grimmjow made a face. “Yeah, the brat.” “What the fuck did Szayel do?” Grimmjow shrugged like a caught child. “Didn’t do anything, it’s what he said.” Ichigo didn’t need to know, he could guess. “You know he says shit to get a rise, why did you take the bait?” “How did you know it was bait?” Grimmjow asked. “Because he’s done it to me,” Ichigo said. “So, why?” The Espada shrugged again. “I wanted to fight someone, he was a good target.” Ichigo frowned at him. “And did it make you feel any better?” “ No ,” Grimmjow snarled. “Fucker was laughing at me.” Yeah, that sounded like Szayel. Ichigo tried not to sigh, at least aware of the circumstances. He asked, “Are you coming with me?” Grimmjow stared at him. “What?” “You usually don’t ask,” Grimmjow said. “I’m in a weird mood,” Ichigo repeated. “Is that a yes or no?” Grimmjow gave him a look Ichigo interpreted to be a ‘yes’. He pulled them through la sangre to Harribel, finding the action to be as easy as breathing. Word clearly hadn’t reached Harribel yet, because her eyes widened in surprise when she found herself face to face with Ichigo. “You’re alive.” Grimmjow growled, “I kept tellin’ you he was.” She reached for his hair, running her fingers through it. “This is...different.” Again with the appearance. Ichigo let out a heavy sigh. “Not my choice.” Letting his hair fall from her fingers, Harribel folded her arms and answered grimly, “It seems most things aren’t.” “It does, doesn’t it?” Ichigo said wryly. Her eyes narrowed in a smile. “It’s good to see you.” Ichigo hadn’t expected that at all. 
“You’re worth more than your strength, Ichigo.”
 That was the deepest compliment anyone could give him, so he made light of it. “Miss cleaning up all my messes? I wouldn’t.” Humor shone in her eyes, mixed with something like relief. “Maybe I did, Ichigo.” Her eyes flicked back to Grimmjow. “Your fraccion almost replicated the experience.” Grimmjow took that as a challenge. “ Almost?”  “Well, no one's dead,” she said. It took Ichigo a minute to realize she was joking. If she could poke fun, she must be in a good mood. She asked, “What happened, Ichigo?” Ichigo let out a heavy exhale, not quite a sigh. He could feel Grimmjow’s burning curiosity stabbing into his back. “It’s a long story.” “I have nowhere to be,” Harribel said. She tilted her head and asked, “Is there a reason you don’t want anyone to know you’re here?” A frown tugged at Ichigo’s lips, feeling caught. “I hear you thought I was dead. An absence like that warrants a little more than a knock on the proverbial door. I’d rather know what I’ve missed first.” “Very well. And you pretend you can’t think ahead,” she teased. “You were missed.” Ichigo scoffed. “No one around to hide from?” Harribel answered seriously. “You prefer to live life as a spectre, but do not assume that means your presence passes by unnoticed.” She emphasized. “You were missed.” Ichigo didn’t have anything smart to say about that, he just couldn’t know. Harribel walked over to a section of floor that opened up into a twenty story drop and sat on the edge, gesturing for him to sit. “Now tell me how this happened.” Ichigo sat beside her, and Grimmjow leaned up against the wall behind him to listen. He started as far back as he thought was helpful, realizing he had to start with the one person he hadn’t wanted to think about. Inoue. She was supposed to live. Harribel listened to him talk in respectful silence, not even Grimmjow interjected. It was a bit easier to to get through once he had nothing but his own experiences and fact to draw on. She waited until he was finished to say, “I don’t suppose now would be the best time to share this news with you, but it is the reality.” Ichigo’s shoulders sagged, and he asked, “What now?” “The space between worlds is still too dangerous to pass through.” Distantly, Ichigo had realized that was bad the first time he heard it, but now it was starting to sink in. His eyes widened in realization. No shinigami could get to human world, no pluses could get to the spirit world, and no hollows could leave Hueco Mundo. “Uh oh.” Grimmjow snorted. “Yeah, uh oh .” Now that Ichigo was on the same page, Harribel explained, “This doesn’t affect an adjuchas, but those hollows that still hunger for human souls are no longer mindlessly wandering, they’ve become needlessly violent.” She looked at him. “Just so you’re aware.” Ichigo groaned and flopped to his back. “Just once, I’d like to fix something without it blowing up in my face.” “That’s half your charm,” Grimmjow said. Ichigo tilted his head back to look at him. “And what’s the other half?” “It’s definitely not your sense of humor,” Grimmjow said. Ichigo frowned, watching as the Espada pushed off from the wall and walked over to him, crouching to look down at him. “Your madness.” “I’m not crazy,” Ichigo said flatly. Grimmjow didn’t sound convinced. “Uh huh.” Ichigo put a hand on his face to push him back and sat up. Grimmjow growled, “Fucker.” Ichigo ignored that insult and said, “Well now that we’re all caught up, time to be alive again.” He’d kind of liked the anonymity of ‘death’, but responsibility was never too far away. He stood, and Harribel stood with him. He looked down at the damage and said, “This probably isn’t too conducive for travel, is it?” Harribel said, “It’s more than an inconvenience to the weaker arrancar.” “I imagine,” Ichigo said. He pushed his hair from his face, idly scratching his head in thought. He had a feeling he could fix it without too much hassle, he would just have to be careful not to smush anyone. That meant going slower than he probably had to. Extending his arm in front of Grimmjow, Ichigo eased him back with a firm hand on his chest. “You don’t want to stand there.” Harribel took the hint and backed away from the edge. Ichigo closed his eyes and raised his hands, drawing la sangre from the desert. It had been easy to call on for some time, but this easy? It might as well have been his own reiatsu. The dark climbed like nightmarish ivy over the bare walls of las Noches, dragging the desert with it. He couldn’t just reshape the walls from what was left behind, he needed to take the sands and remake it. Whatever Sunyata had done with what it had eaten, it wasn’t giving it back. Clenching his hands into fists, the sand Ichigo drew out with la sangre began to reform the walls, filling in the spaces much too quickly, flooding into the empty space like water. It wanted to move at the speed of his thoughts, which was faster than Ichigo realized. He stopped it short, holding it back, then slowly loosened the reins on his control, and Las Noches was rebuilt at the speed of singed paper, creeping outwards until every gap was solid once more. Ichigo reluctantly let la sangre go with a heavy exhale, dropping his arms along with his control. La sangre flickered out, returning to the sands and the walls, no longer needed. The whole process only took a few minutes total, and Ichigo was pretty sure he hadn’t accidently killed anyone. So that was one thing gone right. Turning to face the two arrancar, Ichigo said, “Well at the very least I make a half decent contractor.” Harribel admired his handiwork. “Very nice. That was quicker than I expected.” “Fast is easy,” Ichigo said. “Slow is difficult.” Grimmjow said, “You and the lady said it, not me.” Ichigo couldn’t help but smirk. “The lady likes it.” Harribel made a disgusted sound. “Don’t get too full of yourself.” Ichigo couldn’t quite bury the smile that was on his face as he warned, “Brace yourselves.” He could be polite if he felt like it. He dropped his reiatsu, probably scaring the hell out of most of his arrancar, but at least he’d given them some warning with his impromptu construction job. He was pretty positive there was no one else alive that could do something like that, and every arrancar in Hueco Mundo knew it. --- xxx --- 
Grimmjow
 Seeing Kurosaki again was a shock, especially when he looked so different, but feeling his reiatsu was the kick in the teeth he’d needed to really wrap his mind around the fact that he was alive. Nothing else he’d ever experienced could feel so oppressive, and Ichigo didn’t even have to try . The suffocating weight of it dragged a savage smile out of him; he’d missed this. Kurosaki looked at him, once brown eyes blazing like an eclipse. Looking at the hybrid for too long burned the sight into his irises, but it was hard not to look. Grimmjow wasn’t sure if the hybrid even noticed, but he’d barely blinked at all in the entire time he’d been back. Kurosaki was never one for wasted movement. His actions were always purposeful, deliberate, graceful even. Now he moved even less. It went beyond creepy, it was simply inhuman, unsettling. That Kurosaki could still smile and banter didn’t lessen the effect. He was just as terrifying now as before, if not more so. And somehow Grimmjow still couldn’t bring himself to even feel a healthy amount of fear. “Only you would enjoy this,” Kurosaki said. Grimmjow let out a strained laugh. “Once you’ve seen the ocean, everything else is just a puddle.” Kurosaki didn’t seem to know what to do with that, watching him with an intensity Grimmjow had come to expect. Like most hollows, he was drawn to power, but Grimmjow would like to think he had more refined taste. He wasn’t interested in something strong, he wanted to sink his teeth into the best, and Kurosaki was something forever out of reach. For something like Grimmjow, Kurosaki felt every bit as vast as the Gods he was a slave to. When it was the difference between an ocean and a bigger ocean, Grimmjow couldn’t feel the difference between them. There was a very small handful of people that knew just how strong Kurosaki really was, and he knew the hybrid despised his own power as much as he reveled in it. Satisfied he’d announced his presence, Kurosaki let up on his reiatsu, the sudden disappearance of it almost disappointing Grimmjow. He could still sense his power through Kurosaki himself, but it was the difference between seeing it and experiencing it. With nothing to do but wait, Kurosaki waved a hand almost dismissively, and the walls moved back, making the space larger. He gestured again, making a low wall just so he didn’t have to sit on the floor. Watching Kurosaki sit, Grimmjow stared long enough for Kurosaki to demand, “What?” “Nothing,” Grimmjow lied. Sometimes Kurosaki came off as every bit the demigod he didn’t want to be. But for as easy as it was for him to do pretty much anything, that came with a steep price Grimmjow didn’t think he’d be willing to pay. Ignoring the looks Kurosaki was giving him, Grimmjow laid back on the wall he’d made to nap. Truth be told, he was fucking exhausted. Kurosaki might have gotten some well deserved sleep, but Grimmjow had been a restless wreck for days. Finally confronting his problem left him mentally drained, but he didn’t think Kurosaki would appreciate if he slept through his little meeting. Truth be told, Grimmjow didn’t think that he could. Kurosaki demanded attention, and Grimmjow couldn’t put his finger on why. Looking at him now, he seemed relaxed, but Kurosaki had an intensity that he couldn’t shake. It was the same vibe that compelled every arrancar that showed up to keep their distance, everyone but the Espada. Neliel showed up with Candice, who was still looking a little worse for wear. The blonde looked haggard, sick even, but she was alive, so Nel was calm. Ichigo mouthed the words “we’ll talk” to her and Nel nodded, hanging back. She wasn’t upset with Kurosaki, not that Grimmjow was aware, but Candice wanted little to do with him, and Nel went where Candice went those days. Once Kurosaki was satisfied he’d gathered all the arrancar that could be bothered to even show up, he stood, and Grimmjow watched every arrancar present stop . They listened with an attentiveness even Aizen had never managed. Fear tended to invoke fight or flight, Aizen had never inspired loyalty. It was a sticky trap, and Grimmjow hadn’t even realized he’d been caught until there was no escape. On the outside, Kurosaki looked calm, but through Alteza, Grimmjow sensed a thread of anxiety and doubt. The visored hid it well, and when he projected his voice, there wasn’t a trace of it. “Just to clarify, I’m not dead, and I ain’t a ghost.” Grimmjow bit back a snort. As if anyone could dispute reiatsu like that belonged to anyone but Kurosaki himself. “I might be alive,” he continued, “But I can see that some of you are not.” Grimmjow hadn’t realized Kurosaki paid such close attention, but he should have known, especially when so many of these arrancar he turned himself. Kurosaki said, “That shouldn’t have happened. The hosts are my business, not yours.” The possessiveness in his tone was too similar to a hollow to debate he was anything less. “I killed him. I tore his God from him and devoured it.” His voice echoed in the silence, and Grimmjow felt a chill settle over his shoulders. He thought Kurosaki had been relaxed, but the monster he knew was still there, just beneath the surface. “You should know that my loyalties are divided. I won’t call myself King, and you shouldn’t treat me as such. Harribel is queen, and I'll defer to her judgment. So should you.” Grimmjow stared at Kurosaki with wide eyes, and a ripple of surprise rocked through everyone present, including Harribel. If Harribel enjoyed being surprised, she wouldn’t be digging trenches into her palms with her nails.His voice fell in volume, but it still carried, and Grimmjow couldn’t be certain why or how. “I might not call myself a King, but Hueco Mundo is mine nonetheless, as are all of you. You may be subject to my whims, but you’re also entitled to my protection, that hasn’t changed.” Grimmjow thought he saw some level of relief in the arrancar present. Kurosaki might be a scary fucker, but he hadn’t lied to them. Kurosaki’s voice was light and surprisingly genuine. “Any questions?” No shocker, but only an Espada was brave enough to pose one. A fucking crazy Espada. Szayel asked, “Does this mean we don’t have to obey?” Fucker looked completely untouched, and Grimmjow wasn’t sure it was entirely healthy to want to beat him up all over again. Kurosaki teased, “Did the title really mean that much to you?” The hybrid had a point, he’d never insisted anyone obey his every whim, not much had changed. Kurosaki answered anyway, even if Szayel’s question was only posed to stir up the water. “It isn’t often that I’ll ask anything of you, but when I do, disregard me at your own risk.” It was the most honest answer Kurosaki could give, but it was also pretty generous. More so than anything most hollows would offer. Szayel looked put out, and no other arrancar was either willing to make their concerns known to every arrancar in Las Noches, or they were too scared to speak up. Kurosaki took the following silence to mean he could continue. He gestured vaguely. “With the Gods in chaos, the dangai is turbulent, but it will settle, so don’t feed yourself to it trying to cross it. You shouldn’t be going anywhere anyway.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Now scram.” No one moved until Kurosaki turned away, either out of respect or fear, Grimmjow couldn’t be sure. A scattered few lingered, like minnows in a reef, clinging to the walls to avoid garnering unwanted attention, but were too curious to leave. Harribel stepped up to Kurosaki, an air of violence in her aura, despite how relaxed she appeared. Grimmjow kept cautiously distant from both of them, unsure if this level of tension warranted actual violence or not. There wasn't an ounce of forgiveness in Kurosaki's expression, and Grimmjow couldn't remember an instance where the hybrid had ever forced his authority over her so blatantly. He might have been giving her power, but he'd only denounced being King to stand even higher, and that much was clear to everyone present. Kurosaki dared her to act with a steady, unblinking stare. They weren’t standing toe to toe as friends, or as rulers, but two very powerful predators. Harribel might be a shark, but she was swimming in Kurosaki’s ocean. Harribel spoke evenly, but there was an undercurrent of anger in her voice. “I don't appreciate being uninformed.” “You would have objected,” Kurosaki said. It was just an excuse, from his posture, he’d blatantly taken steps to assert who was actually dominant, but why he’d done it was still in question. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to explain or back down, her eyes narrowed, breaking eye contact first. “You are an insufferable man sometimes, Ichigo.” Kurosaki smiled, a slow, dangerous thing. “And I pity that you’re the one to deal with me.” She shot him a halfhearted glare, and let him be, clearly annoyed enough with him to break off the confrontation entirely. Kurosaki watched her back as she walked away, then turned to Candice. She paled and took a small step backwards.. Grimmjow had almost forgotten about her, but clearly Kurosaki hadn’t. It seemed he was conscious of the effect he had on people, so he sat and waited to see if she would come to him. Shockingly, she did. With Nel hovering a foot behind her, she walked up to Kurosaki, feeling a bit bolder now that she was looking down at him. She said, “I want to go home.” Kurosaki answered, “That’s fair. Before I do that, will you let me fix you?” “The fuck does that mean?” Candice asked tiredly. “It means that when I borrowed your soul to channel das licht, you weren’t in the proper environment to recover. And for that, I apologize.” The Quincy scoffed. “If you hadn’t done it to save everyone from dying I might find an apology inadequate.” It was probably the closest thing to ‘apology accepted’, that Kurosaki was going to get. Lips quirking up into a small grin, Kurosaki looked from Candice to Nel. “You’re going with her?” Nel’s brows furrowed, and Kurosaki continued, “I was expecting you to, you don’t need to feel guilty.” Nel let out a heavy exhale, all of her tension leaving her at once. “Why do you make things so easy, and so difficult, all at the same time?” Grimmjow interjected. “It’s his charm.” Candice muttered, “It’s only charming if you’re cute.” Kurosaki grinned, sharklike. “What, I’m not cute?” Definitely not the word Grimmjow would use to describe the hybrid. “You’re scary, you asshole, now send me home,” Candice growled. Standing, Kurosaki warned, “Brace yourself.” Grimmjow half expected to be left behind, but Kurosaki dragged him along through la sangre, setting them down in what seemed to be Karakura. Grimmjow caught the tail end of light curling around Candice, and Nel didn’t immediately double over and throw up, which raised questions from all three. Candice spoke with some measure of confusion and awe. “That was das licht. You used la sangre and das licht?” “I did,” Kurosaki agreed. “I might look like a hollow, but don’t forget I’m the host for all of the Gods.” “But you used them at the same time,” Candice said. Kurosaki arched a brow and asked, “How do you think I stopped Sunyata?” Nel asked, “The shinigami’s God?” “Yeah,” Kurosaki said, gesturing to his appearance. “ This might not have happened if I’d just used them both to begin with.” Grimmjow snorted. “Yeah, as if the potential for instant death wasn’t a deterrent.” “No need to make it so dramatic,” Kurosaki muttered. The hybrid was vastly underselling the problem, but that was old news. Nel said, “La sangre didn’t feel as… unsettling, as before.” Kurosaki answered in a slight brush off. “I got better.” Since that seemed to be all Kurosaki was willing to explain, Candice took a look around. “So where are we?” “Near my hometown,” Kurosaki answered. He looked to Nel and said, “Figured you’d need a gigai, and I need to see my family.”  Need , not want. Grimmjow couldn’t help but notice. That creepy grinning visored materialized to their immediate right and everyone short of Kurosaki took a startled step back. Shinji stood there, hands in his pockets looking unduly pleased with himself and said, “Were you going to stand out front all day?” “Didn’t want to startle anyone,” Kurosaki said. “Plus, it’s kinda rude, and I have guests.” “Where the fuck did you come from?” Grimmjow said. “We prefer our privacy,” Shinji said. Which wasn’t really an answer, but to be fair, he didn’t really care, he just didn’t like to be startled. To Kurosaki he said, “Your sisters are at school. Figures it was the one building left intact.” “I’ll wait,” Kurosaki said. “Can we come in?” “Sure, what’s three more people,” Shinji said wryly. --- xxx --- 
Kurosaki Ichigo
 Turned out his father wasn’t back either, which left Ichigo plenty of time to fix Candice after he deflected a handful of questions he was getting tired of answering. Harassment dealt with, he could finally give Candice his attention. Rose was kind enough to let them borrow his room, seemed he was fond of Nel. “Okay,” Ichigo said, “you want me to help, I need to touch you.” Candice wrinkled her nose and he tried not to roll his eyes, holding his hand out towards her. “Relax, minimal contact is fine.” She reached for his hand, then hesitated. “Is this going to hurt?” she asked. Ichigo gave her a mildly guilty look. “I really don’t know, but with my track record...probably.” “Great,” she said dryly. She glanced to Nel and said, “Don’t let me fall on my face, my nose is my favorite feature.” Nel looked aghast. “You think I’d let you ruin your beautiful face?” The Quincy flashed a confident smirk, “Sweetheart, you-” “ Ladies .” Ichigo sighed and couldn’t extend his hand hard enough. At the very least Candice didn’t look terrified of him anymore. Candice gave him an unamused look and grasped his hand without hesitation. Ichigo reached for das licht, and realized she was nervous. Very nervous. She hid it as well as he did, which was impressive. He reached for das licht and flooded her body with it, and she reacted as he expected. Candice seized up in pain and Nel caught her from behind, holding the Quincy to her chest in distress. Adaliz had already made Candice a conduit, and the sudden lack of das licht was only making her sick. With nothing but reishi to sustain her, it just wasn’t enough, especially after the hell he’d put her soul through to kill Reizei. Das licht had spread even further into her soul, and was only less visual to those that didn’t know what to look for. Candice might not age at all anymore, her blood was simply different, she was inexorably tied to die Konigin, and that came with both power, and a cost. It didn't take long to replace das licht in her blood, but Candice was down for the count. Ichigo let go of her hand and smiled at Nel, trying to reassure her. “She’ll be fine, if not really hungry. Reishi probably isn’t the most appetizing meal.” Nel sat with her on the ground with her head in her lap and gave him a worried smile in return. “Thanks, Ichigo.” “I'm sorry she was in that position to begin with.” He meant that. Every conduit was his responsibility, it didn’t feel right to use them. If they were supporting him, the least he could do was support them in return, whether he liked them or not. He fully intended to leave them be, but Nel lunged for him, grabbing his shihakusho. With Candice in her lap, her mobility was limited, but she didn’t seem to concerned with looking desperate to stop him. Ichigo paused and looked back at her, and Nel said, “Candice told me what she is, that she’s sort of like Grimmjow...will she really be okay?” Ichigo watched her carefully, then said, “Candice should know…” ”She’ll be angry you told me, but I need to know.” Nel begged, and it twisted his heart. “Please tell me. She can be angry with me .” Ichigo crouched down to her level, already having made up his mind. “Candice is actually more like Ulquiorra. She’s not a tangent part of my soul, but she is a part of die Konigin. She isn’t going to age like a human, I’m not even sure how old she is.” Nel listened, and asked, “And the rest?” “Grimmjow is dying because Alteza is death. Candice will live...until her soul is too much for her body. The Gods all grant some measure of power, but there’s always a cost.” “Die Konigin is killing her,” Nel repeated flatly. “Eventually,” Ichigo corrected. He tried his hardest to reassure her, but even being in the same position gave him few words to share. “You have a long time yet, Neliel.” Nel looked down at Candice, tense in her sleep, and she stroked her fingers through her hair. “She didn’t want pity.” “So don’t pity her,” Ichigo said. “You’re both strong, and Candice will only become stronger. The world needs the Quincy.” Her life would burn strong, but it was uncertain how brief it would be until her life had been spent. Die Konigin raged like the sun, and a soul might be strong, but in the face of such power, it might be used up like a match. “Enjoy the time you have.” Nel bit her lip, then stood, hoisting Candice into her arms. She laid Candice on the bed and shot Ichigo a glassy-eyed smile. “Thank you for telling me.” Ichigo stood, and left them alone, not happy that he had to be the bearer of bad news. For Nel, and now for everyone who loved Inoue. 
“You don’t have to tell them...”
 
‘And live with the guilt and leave them with false hope?’
 
“What’s more merciful, King?”
 Ichigo just didn’t know.  He left them alone, passing by Grimmjow in a heated debate with Hiyori about how far someone could shove someone’s foot up someone else’s ass, and found Kisuke. He grabbed him by the back of his kosode to drag him out of the room. “Kurosaki-san I really-” “We need to talk,” Ichigo said, “Can it-” “No.” Ichigo dragged him as far away from the others as possible, only letting Kisuke go when he proved he’d go along with him on his own. Ichigo brought him far into the underground training grounds, far enough that Grimmjow and Hiyori’s “conversation” was barely audible. Kisuke finally asked, “What’s this about?” “I need advice,” Ichigo said, hating the desperation in his voice. Kisuke was emotionally detached from most things, he could think of no one better to ask. When Kisuke said nothing, Ichigo carried on, swiping his hand through his hair. “When Ishida killed Inoue...he shot her outside Soul Society, living world, even the dangai…” Kisuke filled in the blanks. “Her soul is gone.” He looked away, twisting Benihime in his hands. “I guessed… Ryuken might have also guessed, based on his son’s story. The others don’t know. You want to know if you should tell them?” “Yes,” Ichigo said, his voice lined in a sigh. “Was there...was there a funeral?” “She was counted as just another one of the victims of the Kūgeki. Many people went missing, it wasn’t strange for there to be no body to bury.” Even hearing those words twisted Ichigo’s stomach. When he’d sent them away he’d hoped that at the very least her body would be sent back, but it seemed fate wasn’t so kind. “Ryuken paid for a funeral while you were asleep, he thought Ishida needed it. Everyone went, even Yoruichi…” Kisuke tugged at the brim of his hat. “I’m sorry you couldn’t be there.” “Me too,”Ichigo said softly. “Her schoolmates were there too, but I don’t believe they know what happened. Ishida hasn’t talked with them, and Chad has been quieter than usual.” God, Tatsuki. She didn’t know. Careful of his claws, Ichigo rubbed his eyes. “How can I tell them that she’s gone forever?” “You’re not here to ask what to do, are you? You’re telling me you don’t have faith that you can lie.” “To their faces, about her?” Ichigo admitted, “No… I can’t.” “You have your answer,” Kisuke said. The shinigami watched him intently, his expression betraying very little, and Ichigo shifted. “It doesn’t feel fair, I understand, and I don’t need to tell you about unfairness. It wasn’t your fault, or Ishida’s, and no one blames you but yourselves.” “How can we not?” Ichigo asked, “We were there.” Kisuke made a chiding sound. “It was an impossible situation orchestrated by moral-less Gods. Some things are simply out of your hands, Ichigo, you can’t control everything.” He wished that he could, but the more power he gained, the more complicated things became. Despite how uncomfortable it was to look at him, Ichigo didn’t shy away from it. “Thank you, Kisuke.” “For what?” Kisuke asked innocently. “You did all the work.” Ichigo let out a huff of disagreement. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.” “I’m just a humble shopkeeper,” Kisuke said. “I’m tryin’ to be serious,” Ichigo grumbled. “And so am I.” Kisuke said. “Maybe you didn’t save everyone , but you came close.” Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he wanted to be. Ichigo looked back in Grimmjow’s direction, and Kisuke did him a favor and changed the conversation. “How are you? You look alright.” “I feel...,” Ichigo decided on a word. “Stable. Sunyata stagnated the creep of the Gods in my soul. For now.” “What effect has it had on you,” Kisuke asked. He sounded curious more than concerned about that last one. Ichigo tried not to shrug, but he hadn't sensed any outright negatives. “Without the shinigami as conduits, I'd be as crazy as Reizei, wouldn't I?” “That is the theory,” Kisuke answered. “A case like yours has never existed before.” He gave him a pointed look up and down. “This is permanent?” Ichigo didn't answer, but the look on his face must have been answer enough. “I see.” Ichigo changed the subject. “How are Yuzu and Karin?” Kisuke tilted his head. “You're going to see them soon enough, do you really need me to tell you?” With a gentle snort, Ichigo said, “You know my family, they hide things from me.” “Yes, and the apple didn't fall far from the tree,” Kisuke said dryly. “Your father braved the dangai along with Shinji. Twice. Your sisters were worried, but they had faith in him.” Ichigo's brows fell. “He did that for me?” “Of course he did, you're his son.” Kisuke's tone turn chiding. “A child isn't supposed to die before a parent.” Ichigo felt the heart he shouldn't have, ache. “I’m just glad he didn't get himself killed.” Kisuke smiled. “Give your father some credit.” Both of then tensed at the wave of reiatsu that fled from Grimmjow. This was the intent to kill, and he'd gone out of his way to make Grimmjow strong. Ichigo's brows furrowed. “Hold that thought.” Stepping into la sangre, Ichigo stepped out directly before Grimmjow, stopping him short with a hand on his throat. Ichigo didn't know what set the arrancar off, but it didn't really matter. Grimmjow's eyes blazed, Pantera drawn and he snarled, eyes locking on Hiyori. “Fucking bitch .” Ichigo tightened his grip, cutting off his air, and Grimmjow finally looked at him. Ichigo warned gently. “Relax.” “Careful, I think your dog is rabid,” Hiyori spat. Ichigo sighed. That explained it. “Do me a favor, Hiyori, and don't call him that.” “What, he's a PMSing girl?” He knew her well enough to sense some level of fear in her voice. That was justified, and every visored present had their hands on their sword. Grimmjow bared his teeth in distaste, reaching for Ichigo’s wrist. Ichigo didn’t let up, giving him an apologetic look. “Sure, let's go with that, except instead of hormones he's fighting the will of a God.”  “He fucking started it!” She snarled. “Control your arrancar, Kurosaki.” Shinji warned. Ichigo kept his tone calm, trying to diffuse their tension. “I’m working on it.” Now that he’d gotten his hands on him, Grimmjow was essentially harmless. He knew the arrancar was furious at him for interrupting, and all Ichigo could feel about it was guilt. He knew Grimmjow and Shinji could feel it, and that didn’t make things any better. Grimmjow fought in his grip, his instincts starting to take over out of sheer desire to breathe. Ichigo finally let him go, and Grimmjow collapsed, coughing and gasping, and when he could finally breathe, he snarled up at Ichigo. “Don’t talk like you own me.” Ichigo crouched down so he wasn’t talking down at him and dropped his voice, intending what he said to be for Grimmjow alone. “In a way, I do, Grimmjow. You’re mine. ” He didn’t mean it in the sense of property, and Ichigo knew that by now Grimmjow was well aware of that. Tone shifting into something more understanding, he stood and offered Grimmjow a hand. “Don’t try to kill anyone, this isn’t your territory.” Ichigo didn’t do this to humiliate him, Grimmjow was simply strong, and taking half measures wouldn’t ensure the Espada couldn’t still carry out his intentions. Glaring at his hand, Grimmjow finally accepted it, and the agreement to leave everyone else alone along with it. Ichigo gave him a warning look to behave as the Espada walked past him to the underground training ground. If he needed an outlet, that was fine, but he wouldn’t tolerate an attack on his friends or allies. Ichigo supposed it might be proper etiquette to bow when your subordinate tried to kill your hosts’, but he couldn’t find it in him to bow to anyone. Maybe it was arrogance, he honestly didn’t care enough to figure it out. Turning to face Hiyori, Ichigo apologized, “I’m sorry my fraccion tried to kill you.” Shinji put a hand on Hiyori’s head, prompting her to keep her mouth shut, and said, “You said he was fighting the will of a God.” “Alteza amplifies instincts, and Grimmjow’s instinct has always been to fight. Try to forgive him, it isn’t easy.” He spoke from experience. He wouldn’t coddle Grimmjow, but he still understood the reason. Shinji took a step forward, putting his hands in his pockets, and studied him for a moment. “Not to sound unempathetic, but what does that mean for me ?” Ichigo felt a frown tug at the corners of his lips. He didn’t like letting people down. “I don’t know, Shinji, I’m not even sure what it means for me. When I do, you’ll know.” “I don’t feel any different,” Shinji said. “Actually, that’s a lie. My hollow got quieter, but I suppose that makes sense.” Ichigo tilted his head. “So you do understand. I’m still sorry about Grimmjow, I won’t be here long.” Shinji made an annoyed sound. “This doesn’t change anything, idiot, I knew what you were when I invited you inside, I’m not going to boot you to the curb. Nothing happened. You should have seen how short our tempers were when we first became visored, this is almost nostalgic.” Despite Shinji’s flippant tone, Ichigo thought he eased a bit when he offered to leave at all. Knowing you could do nothing to stop someone probably didn’t ease anyone’s nerves. Kensei snorted. “I’m surprised no one’s dead.” Isshin spoke up from behind him. “What did I miss?” Ichigo hadn’t even noticed him come in, he was criminally good at hiding his reiatsu. Mashiro said, “Grimmy tried to kill Hiyori.” Isshin tossed his jacket onto the couch and raised his brows. “So it’s Wednesday.” “Hey!” snapped Hiyori. “He had it coming!” “I’m sure he did,” Isshin said dryly. He flashed a wide smile at Ichigo, and it was one of the happiest expressions he’d ever seen on his father’s face. “It’s good to see you.” Ichigo found he couldn’t help but smile in return. “Likewise, Oyaji.” “So…” Isshin gestured to him and Ichigo let out an annoyed sigh. “Yes, it’s permanent.” “Ah, that’s unfortunate, but you’re alive.” Ichigo huffed, flicking his own horn for emphasis. “Do you have any idea how annoying this is?” Isshin was still smiling, too pleased to see him to focus on the negatives. “A shame you weren’t a less spikey hollow.” “A crying shame,” Ichigo griped, “You have-” He stopped short when his father pulled him into a hug, startled and unsure how to react. It wasn’t that his father wasn’t an obnoxious, touchy feely kind of guy, but he wasn’t usually serious . It was an awkward, brief hug with a chunk of his chest missing and horns, but Isshin made it work. He pulled back before Ichigo could figure out how to react, his hands on his shoulders. His father couldn’t stop smiling, and after his reaction the last few times Ichigo had seen him, it was a startling difference. “I’m proud of you.” Of all the things he’d expected Isshin to say, that wasn’t it. Ichigo’s eyes widened, unsure what to do with that information. Hiyori gagged, clearly allergic to affection, and Shinji smirked and said, “If you want to be modest, you can say you saved the world.” Ichigo blushed, flustered, “I didn’t!” Isshin gave his shoulder a hearty slap. “Don’t be so modest, son, you saved the world s .” Blush deepening, Ichigo floundered for words, “Are you making fun of me?” Isshin laughed. “Just your reaction. I knew you’d hate that.” Hate was a soft word for what he was feeling. “This is why I don’t tell you anything.” Lisa chimed in from over her book. “I thought you were building mystique.” Shooting her a venomous look, Ichigo parroted her incredulously. “ Mystique ?” Mashiro was leaning on Kensei’s shoulders, pushing him down in her excitement. She gasped, “He’s embarrassed!” Ichigo swiped a hand over his face. “ Thank you, Mashiro.” This is why he hated having an audience. Isshin pulled him into a half hug, squishing him against his side. He might have grown up, but his father was a giant next to him, he definitely took after his mother. Isshin said, “If you can still blush like that, you’re not so different.” He said it so casually, but it sunk deep, and it meant a lot to hear it, especially from his father. Isshin had mercy on him and let him go. “Your sisters will be back soon, did they catch you up to speed?” “Nah,” he paused, “Things came up.” Hiyori snapped, “That’s code for his arrancar tried to kill me !” Isshin blew her off like she was overreacting. “Completely unprovoked, I’m sure.” She spluttered an insult and Shinji dragged her away before she could start another fight. “Come on, we’re going to the store,” he growled. The rest of the visored went their own way now that there was no drama, and Isshin sat with him to tell him what was going on with the clinic, the home insurance; blessedly boring life, and Ichigo listening with rapt interest to all of it. He thought it was funny how interesting even the most mundane things became when he couldn’t have them. Isshin was telling him about his new job at the hospital working under Ryuken, which sounded like absolute suffering, The two of them couldn’t be more different, but he could see why there was little alternative if he wanted to reopen his clinic. He was recounting some over exaggerated tale when his sisters came back. They showed up with Chad, and he realized with some bit of warmth in his chest that his friend had been walking them home. It meant the world to him that Chad would watch their back, his friend was strong, but he was also stable, he kept people calm. Chad said nothing, he only smiled and Yuzu dropped her things and ran to him, flinging herself into a hug. “Ichi-nii!” Karin came up behind the couch, grabbing a horn and pulling his head back so he was looking at her upside down. She grinned down at him. “Well, at least you look cool.” “Thank you?” Ichigo said, uncertain how to respond. Yuzu was still blathering about how she should have made curry or something, he couldn’t tell through her tears, but she was certainly happy. Ichigo hadn’t noticed Grimmjow was back until he heard him talk from the back wall. “Not as cool as my resurreccion.” Ichigo let his head fall back on the couch and made a face at the arrancar. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware it was a competition.” “Yeah, cause I’d win.” Grimmjow smirked with nothing but confidence. At least the arrancar had calmed down. “I’ve never seen it,” said Karin blithely, lifting her shoulder in a dismissive shrug, “but I bet you’re lying.” Grimmjow didn’t take it personally, scoffing, “ I’ve got a tail. And fangs.” Ichigo squinted at him. “What does that have to do with anything?” Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “That’s clearly superior to horns .” “A tail?” Karin folded her arms. “What even are you?” Zangetsu cackled in his head, and for once Ichigo shared the sentiment, smirking. “Koneko.” Grimmjow’s eyes flashed, livid. “Bastard.” “ Girls , please,” Isshin said. “Are you and the punk staying for dinner?” Ichigo dropped his chin to look at him, surprised by that question. He glanced over at Grimmjow who did nothing but offer an unhelpful shrug and Ichigo realized he had nothing pressing to do. He said, “If that’s okay…” Yuzu got up off him so fast she almost fell on her face. Ichigo lunged forward, catching her, and she carried on almost oblivious to the support. “It’s already late, I have to start prepping...” Ichigo started, “Yuzu, I can help.” She whirled on him, pointing. “ NO ! You sit !” Ichigo froze halfway between getting up, and Yuzu didn’t let up until he slowly sat back down, hands up defensively. Only then was she all smiles as she turned back for the kitchen. “Thank you nii-saaaan!” Grimmjow stared and asked, “The fuck is with your sister?” Karin huffed. “She takes cooking very seriously.” Materializing by the kitchen, Rōjūrō seemed all too willing to help, and Yuzu seemed all too willing to accept his help. Watching his sister with wide eyes, Ichigo asked, “She cooks for everyone?” Isshin shrugged helplessly. “She likes it. She only lets Rōjūrō help, and that took a lot of coaxing.” Chad silently joined them, sitting and enjoying their company while they talked the night away. The more time passed, the more of the visored showed up to talk. Eventually, even Kisuke wandered over, and then Candice woke up to fearlessly nag Yuzu in the kitchen. It was surprisingly relaxed, and Ichigo found he enjoyed it more than he expected. Especially since he wasn’t the center of attention. With absolutely nowhere to sit, eating was even less formal. Ichigo was pretty sure he was eating curry out of a rice cooker, but the food was no less good for it. Yuzu clearly poured her heart into, she even went out of her way to make his favorite, not even removing her apron to sit across from him to be sure he enjoyed it. The longer the night carried on, the less heart he had to tell any of them the truth about Orihime. He just couldn’t do it, they were so happy, and even if it might be a shred of evil to allow that ignorance to carry on, he would take responsibility for it. He caught Kisuke’s eye more than once when he lapsed into silence, and he knew the shinigami wasn’t judging him for it. It grew late enough into the night that Yuzu and Karin both fell asleep on the couch, and he no longer felt guilty leaving. It wasn’t forever, he didn’t think a goodbye was necessary, but he knew they would still be upset he didn’t wake them up. Ichigo untangled Yuzu’s arms from his and stood. Isshin asked, “So now what?” Ichigo looked at him, and Isshin expanded on that question. “Not to talk business, but what are you going to do?” Ichigo looked down at Yuzu and Karin, and said, “What I think I should. I don’t think I’m compelled to act only because of the Gods, it feels like it’s something I should do.” Grimmjow wandered up behind him and asked, “What is?” “Cleaning up the Gods’ messes. It isn’t like anyone else can do it.” Isshin frowned. “I’d like to think I’m not completely wasted as a doctor.” Ichigo laughed under his breath. “You’re a good doctor, Oyaji. You can sweep up the debris, but you can’t even feel the problem.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing world ending, but it is work .” “You’ll be back?” Isshin asked. Ichigo looked back at him, sensing a bit of worry in his voice. He smiled, trying to reassure him. “Yeah, Oyaji, I’ll be back.” He chuckled softly, glancing down at his sleeping sisters and said, “On a Friday, next time.” He added sarcastically, “If I could have risen from the dead on a weekend , I’d have done it.” That knocked a barely muffled laugh out of his father. “I’ll let them know. Good luck, Ichigo.” “Thanks, Oyaji.” Ichigo couldn’t stand long goodbyes, so without dragging it out, he pulled both him and Grimmjow through la sangre, to the edge of Hueco Mundo. The Espada bitched, “Aren’t even going to ask if I feel like following you around while you do chores ?” Ichigo shot him an innocent look. “I asked if you wanted to come with me earlier, are you rescinding that invitation?” “Nothing else interesting going on in this desert,” Grimmjow grumbled. “It would be nice to have company,” Ichigo said honestly. “It’s real quiet out here.” He missed Grimmjow’s company before he could drag him in and out of la sangre. Now he was a little spoiled by it. The Espada could be a real piece of work, but he was amusing. Deflecting that flicker of honesty, Grimmjow asked, “So what do I do? Stand around looking pretty?” “Actually, you might be able to help,” Ichigo said. “That last round of ‘I hope the Gods don’t kill us all’ changed you enough that you might be able to use la sangre. At least in some form.” “Oh good,” Grimmjow drawled, “now I get roped into a slow death, and chores.” If his tone wasn’t so dry, Ichigo might have thought Grimmjow was still upset about being a conduit. “There are perks,” Ichigo said, tilting his head. “We can spar just about whenever you feel like it.” Grimmjow arched a brow. “Just about.” “If you had it your way, we would do nothing but fight,” Ichigo reminded him. Grimmjow’s face split into a savage smile and Ichigo snorted. “ Yeah , that’s what I thought. While I’d welcome any chance to improve my healing Kido, and whatever it is Sunyata can do, that can’t be good for you.” At one point, Grimmjow might have gotten angry at the implication he was going to get his ass handed to him, but now it only made him laugh. “Alright,” Grimmjow said, “Bring on the demigod chores.” --- xxx --- Ended this story with some slice of life-y shenanigans, but poor Ichigo needed a break. Don’t kill me for making his hair black, it had to happen. I can ruin Ichigo’s life and not bat an eye, but changing his hair color? Blasphemy. I agonized over it and then mourned it for days. Rip ginger Ichigo, at least as long as Alteza is dominant. That's it, Zenith is done, and it feels weird yo! I don't wanna go off on some speech, but damn, thanks guys. Hearing from you was always a joy, and it's a miracle you stuck with my story. Don’t think I didn’t remember every one of your username’s, even if I missed a reply here or there, I wanted to get your guys more story. Thanks for all the help and support guys, especially you bilingual angels, thank you! Now that I can go in and finally edit, if you see any language that can be fixed, I will certainly go in and fix it.  Sequels??? I know there’s still lots of smaller loose ends in Zenith, but I decided to resolve those in little in-universe oneshots or shorts, since the overarching plot of Zenith is over with.  Summaries??? If anyone wants to help with summaries, let me know. I'm an artist full-time, all I can offer in return is some free arts. Only requirement is knowing English and having some writing skill, so others will know what you’re on about lol Also, Ink and Blade’s summaries are funny, I recommend reading them even if you have the memory of a supercomputer, they’re entertaining. (The boring, factual ones are mine sry) Thanks again guys, it’s been fun! Kūgeki: Void 
Current Espada Ranking
King StrawberryFraccion: Grimmjow, Nelliel 0 - Harribel1 - Ulquiorra2 - Starrk & Lilynette3 - Grimmjow4 - Zommari5 - Szayelaporro Granz6 - Shawlong7 - Cyan, Mila Rose, Apacci (Quimera Parca: Ayon)8 - Yylfordt Granz9 - Edrad Liones10 - Pesche

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

--- Chapter Summaries WIP ---

Prelude

Ichigo stands in the aftermath of
Aizen’s defeat
and, realizing that the Hogyoku has finally rejected Aizen and now accepts him as its master,
Ichigo wishes to see his friends and loved ones alive and happy once more
as he touches the stone in Aizen’s corpse.
 
Chapter 1: Ghosts

Ichigo soul travels back approx
11 years
, overwriting his soul in that timeline, the day after he was stabbed by Byakuya. He stays with Kisuke, nearly all of his reiatsu is depleted.
 
Chapter 2: Nakama

Come morning
, Ichigo leaves the shoten and reveals himself to his father
, both in soul form above Karakura. Ichigo tells him an abridged version of his past timeline and reveals that
he hadn’t used Mugetsu
during the Deicide arc. Isshin tells him not to dwell on it and enjoy his new present and tells him to come home before leaving.

Ichigo nexts visits Ishida
, drawing him out of school. He is met with disbelief but the quincy becomes reluctantly accepting of Ichigo’s explanation and
reaffirms his decision to aid Ichigo
in the invasion of Soul Society.

Next stop: Orihime and Chad during their training with Yoruichi.
Not many words are exchanged, but they’re enough for Chad. (Nobody cares about Orihime)

Ichigo returns to Urahara, who has at this point made him a
reiatsu suppressor
. It works, still allowing Ichigo to raise his reiatsu enough to floor Urahara without breaking. Afterwards, they settle into a zanjutsu match in an effort to teach Ichigo to be more efficient with his power via practice. The next ten days are spent practicing and attempting to get comfortable with his body before the crew assembles for their trip.

They go through, Ichigo trashes Jidanbo.
Everything proceeds as canon
and the chapter ends with Orihime healing Jidanbo’s missing arm.
 
Chapter 3: Nightmares

Ganju happens according to canon and
Yoruichi gains a new appreciation of Ichigo’s Hollow
when she realizes he allows him to rest. There are no significant divergences from canon up until Yoruichi and Ichigo arrive in Urahara’s hideout, where Yoruichi urges him to go to sleep while she stands guard, only for him to attempt to strangle her while going through
a nightmare related to Szayel
. Zangetsu intervenes and saves Yoruichi and Ichigo breaks down into tears when he wakes up, ending up in a long embrace with Yoruichi as he calms down. Ichigo goes to sleep again, revealing through conversation with Zangetsu that he has a
fragmented memory of what Szayel did to him
, but promises to have revenge.
 
Chapter 4: Child of Darkness

Having rested, Ichigo leads Renji to the hideout by loosening his hold on his reiatsu.
He reveals his nature as a visored to Renji
in a show of strength, flooring him with his hollow natured reiatsu alone, then has Zangetsu cow Renji into leaving after Yoruichi confirms Ichigo’s from the future. After this, Ichigo slips into jinzen and
practices calling forth only his mask
for his ensuing fight with Byakuya rather than slipping into full resurreccion. After several hours of practice and a test run with Yoruichi hiding his reiatsu, he manages.
Ichigo disregards the Seireitei barrier and walks on air unaided. The rest proceeds without major deviation and ends with Byakuya and Ichigo clashing swords.

Chapter 5: Black and White

Ichigo fights Kuchiki Byakuya.
Byakuya’s insistence that he will execute Rukia himself triggers a flashback to Yuzu’s death which serves to anger Ichigo, but the fight itself proceeds as per usual until Byakuya releases his Bankai. Byakuya proves incapable of following Ichigo’s movement in shikai and Ichigo has him at his mercy for a moment before backing away. Ichigo dons his mask and proceeds to curbstomp the captain, allowing him to retreat.
 
Chapter 6: Stand on the Sky
Ichigo’s friends arrive on Sokyoku Hill to check on him to find him no worse for wear. He then asks them to retreat so they would not be in the way of his coming battle with Aizen. Moments later, Aizen’s treachery is announced and Ichigo flexes his power into its unrestrained state, dissolving his reiatsu suppressor. Gin and Aizen appear and Ichigo immediately steals Kyoka Suigetsu from Aizen, showing vastly superior speed and strength. Ichigo then enters resurreccion and curbstomps Aizen to death. Yoruichi restrains Tousen with a sword?
Yamamoto approaches Ichigo for an explanation and
Ichigo reveals he used to be a captain
. He placates Yamamoto that he hadn’t told anyone about the King’s Key and tells him about the arrancar army in Hueco Mundo and his plan to recruit the visored to aid against them, followed by an
explanation of the visored’s innocence
.
 
After Yamamoto tells him to deliver a full report,
Ichigo goes over to his friends offering to help them all get as strong as they got in his future
, but he’s sleepy so he’ll answer their questions the next day. He’s very grumpy about his sleeping habits though, so he needs his own room in the 11th Divison to “sleep alone”.
 
Chapter 7: Gemischt

Ichigo wakes up to the sound of the 11th sparring in their dojo and, after some basic exercise, wiped the floor with a third of the division at once, then started beating up Ikkaku before Kenpachi intervened with a surprise attack with his zanpakuto. Ichigo is having none of it and refuses to fight, flashstepping away. He comes across Ishida outside the barracks and then proceeds to carry him over to a more intimate setting. Away from prying eyes,
Ichigo explains his heritage to Ishida
and then brags about how awesome he is at killing people. Immediately after, Ishida proves his genius intellect by calling Ichigo a monster after Ichigo reveals the existence of the Vandenreich and calls them monsters. In a completely smooth change of subject, Ishida then asks Ichigo how to get his powers back.
In the end, Ishida agrees to accept Ichigo’s help to get stronger and promises to teach him how to use blut arterie and reishi gathering in return since Ichigo only knew blut vene.
 
Ichigo carries Ishida back to the 11th’s barracks and goes on a stroll, so lost in his thoughts that he accidentally attacked Ukitake on reflex when he approached from behind. Ukitake doesn’t mind and invites Ichigo to his office.
Ichigo reveals he’s a Shiba
after Ukitake remarks on his similarity to Kaien. Ukitake sees right through Ichigo and pins down his feelings of guilt and hate and reveals that Ichigo’s sclera had been black when he’d pinned him in the street.
Ichigo reveals his hate for Szayel and that he had been captured by the arrancar after a fight with Nnoitra and that he wishes him dead in this timeline
. Ukitake provides words of comfort and a promise of an open ear in the future, then Ichigo leaves.
 
Chapter 8: Unmovable Pivot

Ichigo is called via hell butterfly to meet the soutaicho at the prison to clarify
Gin’s situation
. Ichigio affirms Gin’s innocence and reveals to Gin what happened to him and Rangiku in the original timeline. The soutaicho then requests Ichigo’s presence in his office that evening and leaves. Ichigo returns to the 11th and
manifests Zangetsu to fight Kenpachi
in his stead while he approaches his friends. They make small talk and Ichigo suggests to Orihime that she take Rukia in because he won’t be staying at his own home anymore and Rukia therefore can’t freeload in his closet.
 
Ichigo arrives at the soutaicho’s office on time and starts explaining the chain of events that should have been the immediate future, revealing Orihime’s healing ability, but refusing to reveal that the visored are in Karakura.
After an exhaustive explanation of the arrancar, Ichigo leaves the barracks to find Rukia waiting for him. Ichigo attempts to apologize for not saving her, but she interrupts him and tells him she’d been worried and reaffirms that
she still considers him a friend despite the change
.
She tells him that she and Renji are there to help
in whatever he decides to do next and Ichigo walks her to the Kuchiki mansion. He returns to his room and, feeling that he knows what he has to do, lets Zangetsu take over so he can sleep.
 
Chapter 9: Visored

Next morning, Ichigo is standing outside the 12th, needing Mayuri to contact Urahara because of Yamamoto’s order. Nemu leads him inside, asking about Ishida’s health. Ichigo tells Urahara to prepare for Rukia’s hogyoku removal that night and goes to leave, but Mayuri is being a creepy enough fuck to provoke a hollowfied voice warning from Ichigo and a show of reiatsu.
Ichigo then meets his friends and goes back to Karakura with them in short order, Rukia coming separately under guard of Byakuya and Renji for security purposes.
Ichigo leaves almost immediately, not planning to be around for the extraction, but not before
Urahara gives him a cellphone
to use. Ichigo decides to place his trust in Urahara despite knowing it was probably bugged and leaves.
 
Ichigo comes to the visored hideout and draws out Shinji.
Shinji doesn’t believe Aizen’s dead and attacks Ichigo, only to have his blade caught barehanded. Ichigo dials Urahara and has Shinji talk to him for confirmation. Ichigo ends up blabbing a lot of details he has no business knowing (I can relate to this) until Shinji decides to let him in and tell his story to everyone.
Ichigo shows them his hollow mask and tells them Aizen’s dead
, being met with disbelief. Ichigo decides to prove a point by merging with Zangetsu right in front of them into a maskless resurreccion then leaves for Hueco Mundo to kick ass.
 
Chapter 10: King

Ichigo
kills Nnoitra
, meets
Harribel and makes her Queen of Las Noches, using White as his pseudonym
. He then
approaches Ulquiorra
and reveals that he knows about his segunda etapa and leaves him with a choice to join him or stay away. He then intercepts the incoming Grimmjow and uses him as a battering ram until they reach the outside.
Grimmjow and Ichigo fight
. After a good thrashing, Ichigo tells Grimmjow not to be a little bitch and then takes his caja negacion to banish Yammy for a while. Grimmjow kinda agrees to submit to Ichigo and then it’s off to finding Starrk. Tesra gets sad that Nnoitra dies, but no one gives a shit.
 
Chapter 11: Wolves
Lillynette is acting like the comic relief that she is while Starrk is giving no fucks about anything and accepts Ichigo as his Lord and Savior right off the bat. Ichigo moves on, pondering his similarity to Aizen, but Ossan assures him he’s more than just his shared traits with Aizen. Yammy is kill. Tesra is kill. Barragan is kill. Ichigo proclaims himself King in front of the remaining arrancar and sets down two rules: no invading the human world, no attacking the Shinigami. He then sets off back to the world of the living and is met by Urahara. He learns he’d been away for three days and talks to Rukia for a bit, showing Zangetsu to her, before going to sleep. 
Chapter 12: Splintered

Ichigo wakes up and with Urahara’s help manages to get into his body without killing it, though it is very uncomfortable. Urahara also makes note that
the second Hogyoku is nowhere to be found
. Ichigo daydreams about killing Szayel while Zangetsu encourages him. Urahara warns him about the dangers of revenge and Ichigo sees that he’s blaming himself for Ichigo’s troubles and so he tells the scientist he doesn’t blame him.
 
Ichigo’s friends are there and have been worrying about him.
Ichigo takes Chad outside for a heart to heart and promises to make him stronger and take him to Hueco Mundo as soon as feasible
. They come back to the shop to find Renji all worked up. Ichigo calms everyone down and they have lunch.
Kyoraku, Ukitake and Byakuya arrive
to question him Ichigo about his venture to Hueco Mundo he meets them in his human body in an abandoned lot.
Ichigo sets down an ultimatum that any shinigami in Hueco Mundo will end up dead, but that the hollows under his command wouldn’t attack humans or shinigami
. They tell him Yamamoto will have an answer by midday and leave, Rukia and Renji staying behind.
Zangetsu decides to reveal how bad things were in the previous timeline
to them and tells them not to be asses by doubting Ichigo and be his friends, or else. Ichigo steps back into control and expresses that Karakura no longer feels like home,
Rukia and Renji express their acceptance and support
, and once they leave Ichigo’s feelings get to him and he starts the trek home.
 
Chapter 13: Mask
Ichigo comes home and Isshin is the only one home. He tells him what he’s done and reveals that he will be staying in Hueco Mundo for the most part. He has another breakdown speaking about what happened in Hueco Mundo in his own timeline and then he leaves via garganta. He assembles the Espada and starts piecing together what happened in his absence. Aaroniero killed Cirucci. Szayel killed Nakeem. Espada rankings are set up. Ichigo explains how hollow powers work and tells them to train themselves and their fraccion. Ichigo wants Grimmjow as his fraccion and Grimmjow attacks him for it, requiring a medic at the end. 
Chapter 14: Apart

Ichigo teaches Starrk how to control his reiatsu.
He then interrogates Szayel about what he’s doing and if he found anything Aizen left behind. Tells him to monitor interdimensional travel. Ichigo moves on to Aizen’s quarters and find Loly and Menoly in there. Loly ineffectively tries to beat Ichigo with her fists, then they’re told to leave. Ulquiorra makes a cameo after Ichigo finds nothing in Aizen’s room, then Ichigo goes to find a room of his own. Falls asleep, then is woken up by Grimmjow doing a kool-aid man into the room.
Zangetsu takes over, Grimmjow notices and is beaten up. Ichigo then returns to Karakura and sees Hitsugaya, Byakuya, Ukitake, Kyoraku, Kenpachi and Gin had been sent with “bad news”
.
 
Chapter 15: Guerra
Ichigo fights Hitsugaya, Byakuya, Ukitake, Kyoraku, Kenpachi and Gin. Ichigo grabs Gin and takes him far away, Gin gives him Aizen’s Hogyoku. Urahara and Ichigo meet up (near a desert?) and Ichigo gives the Hogyoku to Urahara. Ichigo goes back to Hueco Mundo and senses something that disturbs him, but he can’t tell what. He meets Harribel, informs her of what happened and tells her to inform him of anything strange going on, while Ossan suggests it could be another being at their level of power. 
Chapter 16: Darkness

Two week timeskip
. Ichigo is beating up Grimmjow as training. Grimmjow sees a bunch of scars on Ichigo while they wash up, then they go hunting for the weird feeling. Ichigo realizes it’s probably the sky and carries Grimmjow up. He feels something when he raises his reiatsu in challenge.
They meet the Hands of Alteza.
Szayel reports
a massive tear in the world
. Ichigo calls Urahara and tells him about what he found, Urahara, as well as Soul Society, also found a massive tear in the world.
Ichigo then holds a meeting with the Espada telling them about the quincy and his time travel
. Ichigo and Grimmjow have a little heart to heart, then Ichigo and Zangetsu tag team him in a spar.
Ichigo goes to sleep only to be spooked by Alteza
.
 
Chapter 17: El Sueño
Ichigo sleepwalked into a random spot in the desert and Zangetsu was totally cut off from control. Ichigo is spooked. He kills an adjuchas to feel better and returns to Las Noches bloodsoaked. He goes to clean up and comes across Grimmjow. He asks Grimmjow to watch him sleep (kinky). Zangetsu and Ichigo slug a little to tire him out and he goes to sleep. Zangetsu gets cut off again and Grimmjow follows Ichigo as he returns to the spot in the desert. Ichigo stares into the sky and a massive sinkhole opens beneath him. Grimmjow decides to take drastic measures and tries to wake Ichigo up with a Gran Rey Cero to the face. It works, but it gets him impaled through the chest for his troubles. 
Chapter 18: La Sangre
Ichigo snaps out of it, tears open a garganta and makes for Orihime with Grimmjow in tow. Orihime heals Grimmjow. Zangetsu fights the captains in Karakura to stall. Grimmjow learns Ichigo’s name. Ichigo and Grimmjow go to Urahara’s. Grimmjow meets Yoruichi as cat. Urahara reveals that he didn’t truly create the Hogyoku, only discovered it. Ichigo believes his own timeline’s Hogyoku got fused with his soul. One of the timelines’ Hogyoku needs to go. Ichigo and Grimmjow skadoodle back into Hueco Mundo near the endless pit and Ichigo thinks it might be the place where he killed Aizen. Ichigo goes and picks up his sword in Las Noches then they go to the visored hideout. The visored learn Ichigo is king of Hueco Mundo. Shinji puts Ichigo to sleep. 
Chapter 19: Destrozar
Grimmjow and the visored talk a little then Ichigo gets up possessed by Alteza. Shinji summons his mask and uses his shikai on Ichigo. Zangetsu manifests when the possession passes and makes everyone back off. Ichigo ends up feeling like total shit and needs to head back to Hueco Mundo to recover. The plan now is to physically immobilize himself. Ichigo forces Grimmjow to fight him to exhaust himself. Zangetsu then manifests and makes Grimmjow go grab Orihime. Grimmjow finds Orihime with Ishida and he’s not willing to let Orihime go, so he goes with her. Orihime heals Grimmjow again while they wait for Ichigo to get enough of a nap. Grimmjow explains Alteza to Ishida. ORIHIME USES HER HEALING ON ICHIGO! Orihime defends herself, Ishida and Grimmjow from a nightmares!Ichigo cero. Ichigo slept well. 
Chapter 20: Susurrar
It is revealed through a flashback that Ichigo had been hearing Alteza’s voice while sleeping. There are mentions of Cthulhu and Azathoth in the alien words. Ichigo declares he needs to invade Soul Society again to get the other Hogyoku and Ishida volunteers to help. They take Inoue home and return to Las Noches. Ichigo feels Alteza’s presence throughout Hueco Mundo and in his own soul since waking up. Ichigo calls an Espada meeting and on the way there, he asks Ishida to spar with the Espada. Ishida’s and Orihime’s relationship is blooming at this point. Ichigo splits the Espada into those who will invade Soul Society and those who will keep watch over Las Noches. Yylfordt and Ishida fight and Ishida wins. Grimmjow and Zangetsu notice Ichigo is acting weird and the berry reveals to Zangetsu that his condition is permanent. Urahara calls and sends some blueprints. 
Chapter 21: Invasión

Ichigo starts sorting people for the invasion: Mila Rose, Apacci and Sung-Sun remain, Grimmjow is part of the distraction with Shawlong and Edrad, Ulquiorra is sent to the Rukongai to look for the Quincy, Ishida and Yylfordt pair up. They invade and Ichigo sneaks into the Onmitsukido, but is ambushed by Soifon. Ichigo absolutely embarasses her by being too strong to be harmed and just keeps on walking. He takes the Hogyoku, the voices get way worse and
he karate chops Soifon
.
 Meanwhile, Ishida and Yylfordt had been fighting Renji; Shawlong and Edrad against Komamura; Grimmjow versus Byakuya. Ichigo tells his units to scram and Yamamoto arrives ready to throw down. Yamamoto attacks while Ichigo is trying to get away. The voices get real bad, he can’t listen to people anymore. Ichigo lets Zangetsu fight for him. Zangetsu gets cut in half as Ichigo barely makes it out. He makes it to Hueco Mundo and ends up at the hole he sleepwalks to. Alteza tells him he is the heart and “fixes” him up with la sangre. Ichigo now fully became the host and Alteza tells him to bring balance to the Force. Nel finds Ichigo after he has slept for three days and is adorable. He convinces her and her fraccion to come to Las Noches with him and they set off. 
Chapter 22: Muerte

Ichigo sonidos over to Grimmjow and drops his passengers off. He learns Ishida went home and Ulquiorra found something. He leaves Grimmjow to babysit, lets everyone feel his presence so they know he’s back and finds Ulquiorra.
Ulquiorra tells him he found something in the reishi that stretched for miles that he couldn’t access
.

“I went to the outer reaches of the Rukongai. I found unusual traces of reishi, but it wasn’t of a type I could manipulate...It clung to the shadows and the places I could not see. When I reached for it, it was beyond my reach. That’s all I can tell you.”

Ichigo leaves for the World of the Living and pops over to Urahara’s shop without hiding himself. Rukia is there and hurt about how he’s acting, Toshiro is a pest. Ichigo is there to see his body die, he can feel Alteza killing his link to it. Urahara welcomes him in, Ichigo can’t feel anything from his body and Urahara tells him he no longer feels like a human soul. Ichigo no longer has a saketsu, but has a hakusui. Toshiro figures out Ichigo is fused with the Hogyoku. Yoruichi comes and speaks in his defense when Rukia asks Ichigo if he even cares and shoos her and Toshiro away. Ichigo asks Urahara to call his family but the shopkeeper says he’s a friend and he’ll go personally (what a bro). Isshin arrives and Zangetsu of all people calms him down by telling him not to add oil to the fire and telling him what happened. Yuzu and Karin come in and they have a touching moment. They leave and Kisuke keeps being a bro about Ichigo killing his body. Ichigo uses la sangre for the first time to summon the last Hogyoku from Urahara. He leaves with it after Chad, who had been around, tells him he’s there for him when needed. Ichigo drops the Hogyoku in the chasm and Alteza is pleased. He comes back to Las Noches, Nel and the others are with Starrk, he starts picking on Grimmjow, but Grimmjow refuses to fight cause Ichigo is not the right state of mind, and neither will Zangetsu. Ichigo tells Grimmjow Alteza is there and can make him do whatever. He makes his first attempt at summoning la sange and Grimmjow suggests he learn how to control that shit. Ichigo tells Grimmjow to fight Ulquiorra and goes away into the desert to meditate. 
Chapter 23: Tiempo Después del Tiempo

Grimmjow spars with Ulquiorra and loses; Ichigo intervenes.
Ichigo tells Grimmjow he can’t feel pain because of Alteza
, and that it’s been that way since he killed his body.
 
Chapter 24: La Alma

4 months
later. Ichigo spars with Tensa Zangetsu, who’s getting pissed Ichigo isn’t paying attention and calls it off. Alteza isn’t letting Ichigo investigate a portion of the desert and it’s becoming a distraction. Loly and Menoly were watching and Ichigo confronts them.
Ichigo tasks Loly with recruiting adjuchas
with the promise of protection from regression (turning them into an arrancar) and power.
Ichigo takes up Ryūken as a blackmarket doctor
to figure out why he can’t feel pain. (Confirmed: Zangetsu and Ossan don’t feel pain either) Ichigo has some PTSD courtesy of Szayel while Ryūken siphons some of Ichigo’s reiryoku. The Quincy discovers Ichigo’s Quincy blood is in overdrive trying to fight off Altea like a virus, and he advises him to fix it by getting a grip on his Quincy powers. Once Ryūken tells him to get some sleep, Ichigo leaves to go to Chad’s apartment. After some pussyfooting, Ichigo awkwardly asks Chad to Hueco Mundo, Chad reaffirms he isn’t disappointed in him, and
they leave to spar in Hueco Mundo
. Chad gets a buff for being in the homeland, and
Chad and Ichigo spar
.
 
Chapter 25: La Insensatez

2 weeks
later. Ichigo is mediating with Starrk with Nel being an adorable brat with Lilynette when he notices Dondochakka and Pesche are missing. He confirms they’re with Szayel and storms off on the warpath.
Ichigo tortures Szayel for awhile
, Harribel intervenes, and Ichigo concedes that they need him and lets Szayel use his resurrection to heal himself. Ichigo and Zangetsu talk, Ichigo reaffirms he has no regrets, and notes how sluggish he is. Concerned,
Ichigo takes off to Living World to speak with Ryūken
again. Once there, he can barely move since using la sangre aggravates his paralysis. Ryūken is upset that he’s  bothered him at his job and covered in Szayel’s blood, then gets a read on his reiryoku to see what the fucks he’s done.

“Whatever you were doing pushed your quincy power aside, then it rushed back too quickly, injuring yourself. You don’t use your quincy power much; I wouldn’t say it’s atrophied, but you’re forcing your body to do too much too quickly. It might not kill you, but you could cause irreparable damage. Don’t do it again.”

Ryūken notes Ichigo looks like a serial killer and that the shinigami are right to fear him, and Ichigo is stuck waiting for his body to work so he can leave.
 
Chapter 34: Simulacrum
Talks to Mictlan face to face through the mirrors. 
Chapter 36: Kreuzung

Ishida meets Bazz-B
, is scouted by the Sternritter and given a cross emblem. Ishida doesn't know what to do about this, so he consults his father, and after an awkward conversation he’s told that the sternritter were responsible for his mother’s death. Meanwhile in Hueco Mundo, Ichigo breaks up a
confrontation between Grimmjow and Ulquiorra
and then
Ichigo fights Ulquiorra
.
 
Chapter 51: La Cólera

Ichigo talks to Szayel about his research on hollows, and asks about the possibility of rejoining a split soul; Starrk. Szayel admits he would need to experiment on several living hollows, and Ichigo agrees to bring them to him, with the addendum that he can draw on Alteza’s ability to shape souls if he needs it. He tells Szayel to keep it between the two of them.
 
Chapter 53: La Ceniza

Ukitake, Kyoraku, Yoruichi, and Grimmjow use the

Hogu

, a shinigami/Quincy made artifact to free Kurosaki. Grimmjow stabs him with the Hogu and it absorbs both the Kido and a sizeable chunk of Alteza. Zangetsu takes that opportunity and
kills Yamamoto
before Kurosaki regains control. SS has

24 hours

before Kurosaki returns.