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Zenith	By : Shapooda Category: Bleach > General Views: 3686 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Ghosts

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His dreams were awash in agony, both in his heart and in his veins. He felt like he was being torn apart, and 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, grabbing the person 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. “Tessai?”

“Kurosaki-kun?” The man sounded confused, voice strained from the creaking tension Ichigo had on his shoulder.

He let go abruptly, 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, and paled when it wasn’t there. His weakened reiatsu shot up in fear, still struggling to come to grips with his sudden change in scenery.

“Oy, King! Relax! We’re here, you’re jus’ in yer body.” His body? His body died years ago...

He slowly reeled his dampened power back in, noticing how Tessai was on his knees, sweat beading on his face under the force of it.

The shoji screen was thrown open, his eyes snapping to the face of a man he hadn’t seen in years. His eyes widened in shock. “Ura-Urahara…” He thought he recognized the room, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. It was a room he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

“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, he also saw confusion, something he might have missed if he hadn’t known him so well. As well as anyone could know Kisuke. He shouldn’t have been able to overpower Tessai, not as he was, and he knew secondhand that his reiatsu felt decidedly dark and oppressive.

He finally looked down at himself, the bandages striping his chest. He felt shorter, he looked younger. What the hell? Why did he feel 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. He had Benihime 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 dead, 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 kill you.”

'I know, ossan.'

Ichigo chose his next words carefully. “Because I used it. This is going to sound...impossible. 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 skeptical, but lowered the sword. He didn’t sheath it, the flux of reiatsu drawing Yoruichi to the doorway to investigate.

He felt the same, it was his body that felt off, he knew his theory was right before he opened his mouth. He gestured tiredly at the cane. “I can prove it. 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, he 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, and shoved.

Ichigo’s soul was pushed free of his body, catching himself under the arms before he hit the ground. He laid himself down gently, surprisingly unprepared to see his body from the outside again, especially when he was so young.

He straightened slowly and looked back up at Kisuke, knowing what’s 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 the 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 fooled 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.

He recalled the last time he’d seen him, his arms around Yoruichi, the dead 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 to the 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. He 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 16 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, breaks 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 knew she’d been following him for weeks.

“This is my inner hollow. He’s also my Zanpakutou.” He saw the look on their faces. 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.

The bite in his hollow’s voice wasn’t quite as sharp as it usually was. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

He could see the genius running through the ramifications of this, and he let him, waiting for the question. “Kurosaki….how far into the future are you from? Why did you come back?”

Ichigo let out a slow breath. “11 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. 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. “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. “To keep events predictable, you’re going to have to act the same as you did before. Do you remember?”

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.”

She 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 as he posed his question. “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 supressor.

Kisuke didn’t even pause. “Of course Kurosaki.”

“Also..this.” Ichigo gestured 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.

He got up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, and Zangetsu disappeared. “Thanks, Urahara-san.” He looked him up and down, still surprised to see him alive. “I’ll be back.” He knew how unstable his reiatsu must feel, and he knew that to Urahara, he was a wild card, but there was one thing that wouldn’t have changed over all those years: he kept his word.

He strode past them both, eager to be outside, and 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 nosier than he ought to be.

The first thing he did was run to the school, circling the building until he found his sisters. First Yuzu, then Karin. His heart caught in his throat, keeping his distance just in case they could sense him.

He wanted to run straight to them, hug them and cry, but he knew that would only worry them. He didn’t act like that, especially not in the past. He‘d almost forgotten how distant he’d been with them.

Satisfied, he ran 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, he really was a monster…

He stood there for hours, letting 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. “You can rely on us, Kurosaki.”

He stared at him, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the depth of that statement. He let out a breath and finally stepped inside. “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 spiralling thoughts, swallowing and following after Kisuke. He was surprised to see Yoruichi in human form, 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 all her paperwork. Damn right I won.”

“Hoo! That’s some big talk Ichigo!” Yoruichi poured another, half crawling onto the table. “Care to 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. “Tag!” She smirked, stepping on the table and knocking over their glasses with the force of it. ‘I’ll even go easy on you and let you try to catch me, 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. “Whenever you’re ready, boy!”

Ichigo smirked, 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, but he could still track her movement, she wasn’t invisible. He laughed, chasing after her, the pair ricocheting 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 flicker 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 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, Ichigo, 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 got bested by strawberry-chan.”

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.

His tone grew to be serious. “Kurosaki-san. If you know the future...”

He started to kneel, but Ichigo caught his shoulder to stop him, remembering where this was going. Now he understood his 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. He let his hand drop, aware of Yoruichi’s presence behind him.

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 put his hands on his hips and huffed. “Good to know you’re the same as I remember.” He voiced his question. “You know, I wanted to know 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 2 now...not 3. That’s good.”

Yoruichi asked, “What happened to the other Hogyoku?”

Ichigo looked up in thought, then answered, “Aizen merged both Urahara’s and his Hogyoku to complete them, from what I’ve been told. That shouldn’t have happened yet.” The ex-captain looked away in thought, but Ichigo recognized the look on his face. Regret. “Oy, Urahara, how about you show me some kidou?”

Urahara seemed surprised by the 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 smirked. “Like 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, show me.”

“Give me a second.” Ichigo sighed and spoke aloud. “Oy, hollow!”

“What do you want?”

You know what I want. Let’s spar.

“You mean use me for target practice.”

He smirked. I didn’t know you were such a wuss.

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 between him and his Zanpakutou, 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 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. “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 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, and one they played often.

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.”

He put his hands on his hip, waving his sword around. “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! You missed your chance!”

“You!” Ichigo 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, crossed 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 black energy clashed with the Hadou, red and black energy exploding, then spiralling into itself, cancelling 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, proving his point better than with words. “Just level thirty-one? Bo-oring.”

“Shut it, hollow.” 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, and if he 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 abruptly disappeared.

He looked at Kisuke, a little sheepish, and the look on Kisuke’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.

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 Zangetsu-no-ossan is doing most of the work in my subconscious-”

“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 effect 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 in the same now, he accepted them both, and that had never changed.

Yoruichi looked between the three. “How?”

Ichigo let Zangetsu-no-ossan fade away, letting him take back up the arduous task of holding back the well of his power. Zangetsu was 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. “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?”

This, Ichigo could answer. “Because my hollow powers manifested when I was young, I didn’t have a hollow crammed inside me like the other Visoreds.”

“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.

He laid down, aware of Zangetsu-no-ossan’s presence nearby. He napped, the best he could in his own head. It wasn’t true sleep, not when he wasn’t driving, but Zangetsu was sleeping, so it made him restful.

He woke haunted by with nightmares, even in his own head. The peace was interrupted by a howling wind, wrapping through skyscrapers stretching from a colorless desert. It died down when he woke, the hollow use 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 his own weakness.

Ichigo noticed his hollow never mocked him for it, and he was grateful he helped him sleep. It didn’t really rain anymore, the city in his mind was already too reminiscent of Hueco Mundo. His hollow and his quincy side almost seemed to miss it.

--- xxx ---

Copying and pasting from Google docs is destroying my styling, and its hard to have the mental fortitude to scroll through and reapply it to 300k+ words. So forgive any mistakes.
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