Chapter Text
“/I am not actually your zanpakuto./” - Zanpakuto talking outside.
:But I’m still a better father than Isshin.: - Zanpakuto talking inside.
It was still dark when Ichigo returned home, his sisters in his arms. He said brief goodbyes to his friends, told them to go home and sleep. We’ll catch up tomorrow, he said. Ichigo goes through all the motions automatically. Wake the girls briefly to change into pajamas, soothe their confused and panicked reactions and tuck them all beneath the covers. He brushes a kiss over their foreheads and heads to his own room.
The moon is shining through his window. The world lives again. His vision grays out and sounds fade until all he hears is the faint ringing of bells.
Ichigo is sitting on his bedroom floor, shaking uncontrollably at the familiar soothing voice of Zangetsu echoing in the no longer empty abyss of his soul. His eyes were wet and with a flare of reiatsu he had given up hope would ever be returned (it was though, it was) Ossan manifested by his side in a rustle of constantly shifting fabric. The noise he made wasn’t quite a sob, more of a sound of overwhelming relief as thin arms wrapped about his shoulders and drew him into Zangetsu’s darkly red cloak.
“/ Ichigo./”
His hands were fisted in the flowing material, his face buried in the hollow of Ossan’s shoulder and he could do nothing but tremble and gasp for breath, unable to even voice the complicated surges of emotion he felt.
After a moment or two of Zangetsu holding onto him just as tightly as he was, Ichigo managed to speak around the lump in his throat.
“I’m sorry. Zangetsu, I’m so sorry.” His voice was hoarse and faint, but apparently loud enough for his zanpakuto to hear.
The arms around him clenched briefly, before a hand slid into his hair and lightly tugged. Ichigo resisted for a moment, drawing a deep breath, before lifting his gaze to meet the equally wet eyes of Zangetsu.
“/All I wanted, Ichigo, was to protect you,/” Ossan says, like it hurts, as amber eyes slide shut and the zanpakuto leans forward to rest his forehead against his wielder. “/I failed you, Ichigo, I failed to protect you./”
Ichigo tries to say something, anything along the lines of ‘my choice, my decision’ but the words won’t come even as more tears slip over his cheeks. Zangetsu is crying, silently and with barely a hitch in his breath, but he’s crying all the same. Emotion bleeds into the air, saturated by his newly restored reiatsu. He can feel-
It’s too much. It’s all too much. It’s as if someone is exerting an enormous amount of reiatsu around him because it’s getting harder to breathe. All of this- it’s too much.
Zangetsu pulls him as close as he physically can get, half crouched over him as if to physically shield his wielder from anything that would threaten him, even as the sounds of desperate, wheezing gaps of air fill the room. Ichigo is pressed farther into the warmth of his soul, into the comfort that Ossan provides without hesitation. His thoughts run in circles, the crimson of blood, the blue of the blade that skewered his chest, the green of a Fullbringer’s power- memories front and center in his mind even as he slips into a fitful sleep.
Seventeen months in which goat-face ignored every hint of something other than their normal lives, pretending so thoroughly of a normal life that sometimes Ichigo wondered if he’d just imagined everything. If maybe he was still only dreaming, If maybe Aizen had won and this was simply Kyoka Suigetsu.
Time was broken up into distinct sections- ones where it felt as if it was just his body moving without conscious input, just him in a world of shadows, and the rest when people remembered he existed again and things were almost okay again. The very obvious divide in which his friends altered between sticking close, making sure he wasn’t alone, only to disappear for weeks on end before slowly returning to his side, had never stopped feeling as if a knife was scraping over the raw edges of his mind.
Seventeen months in which not a single Shinigami could find a simple gigai to drop by for a visit. Not Urahara-san, not Rukia or Renji, not Shinji- no one at all.
It feels like everyone else is playing some understood game, with rules and instructions and Ichigo is left floundering- but then again, what does he know? When has Ichigo ever been deserving of the truth in all it’s unmasked glory?
Then suddenly, between one day and the next, there’s Ginjo and Xcution, Chad with his secrets, the world coming into sharp focus as danger loomed once more in their midst and Ishida- Uryuu was cut down and Ichigo couldn’t do anything. In the end, when he had hope again, when he had finally been given a purpose, faith and people again- well.
He should have seen it. He should have known. It was all a trap, for someone else to take one more thing from him and then-
And then-
Tsukishima.
The manipulation of almost everyone’s memories. Chad. Tatsuki. Inoue, Yuzu, Karin. Replacing him, as if he needed confirmation that if it had been anyone other than Ichigo, their loyalty would not have been so fickle in times of peace. Ichigo, it seems, was only fit for war.
Then, he had realized in that one awful instant with the sword in his chest and goat-face and Urahara-san standing by, that how he had felt about his friends, his comrades, was under no obligation to be returned. It was his own mistake for assuming he had meant anything to anyone at all.
Getaboushi wouldn’t meet his eyes. He recognized the guilt on his face, in the way he stood and how his hat cast shadows over his eyes. Urahara knew the depth and measure of his soul, his motivations and his resolve- Urahara, despite their differences, regardless of the secrets, Ichigo would have never doubted him, even with his absence. He realized his misunderstanding in that single glance- it wasn’t that Urahara hadn’t known, hadn’t understood, it was simply that Ichigo wasn’t necessary any more.
When he looked to goat-face, the way that face so much like his own had stared at him, an expression as serious as it had only ever been that fateful day when he lost more than he would have ever thought would be possible. He was clad in a shihakusho, a captain’s haori on his shoulders, a Shinigami, like he had any right to be there, like he belonged there. Another betrayal, more lies, omissions and secrets no one thinks necessary to share.
That’s when something within him breaks, quietly and so easily it barely registers as something else that hurts among all the other betrayals. At that point he might not have even cared if he died right then, broken body left in the grass as the rain continued to fall.
But then the air shimmered, from nothingness into familiar violet eyes, a mess of dark hair framing a pale, gently smiling face. His heart stuttered in his chest even as Rukia speaks and the world lights up around him. Colors had bled back into his world and already Zangetsu was as he was- a strong, steady thrum of presence, whispering of pride, relief, joy- Ichigo, Ichigo- filling the corners of his soul once more.
It ended as it always did. Some came, all left, and even Urahara only lingered momentarily before he vanished into the darkness. It’s easy to remind himself, in the midst of everything, to see Getaboushi as soon as he can. Getaboushi might play the fool well enough, but Ichigo knows exactly how that man wears guilt. There was familiarity between them- Isshin and Urahara-san. More of goat-face’s secrets that he hasn’t bothered to tell.
Ichigo knows damn well most of those secrets, if not all, are about him, concerning him. But then, he doesn’t expect much. Goat-face was the type to pretend nothing was wrong rather than admit danger was coming and information needed to be shared so his children didn’t all die.
(Like Mom, like Inoue’s brother, like the Hollow that began all of this, like everything that almost killed Yuzu and Karin-)
He goes to the river, when he wakes up. He doesn’t bother with breakfast or school and just wakes earlier than usual, before Isshin will be up and slips out of the house like a ghost finally leaving the place they’ve been haunting. He goes and sits down on the banks and lets the hours pass as he thinks to himself. The haze has cleared, the raw edges of desperation and despair have gone with the rain and he lets himself breathe.
He’s never asked if the reason why his friends oscillate between there and not there is because goat-face tells them to stay away. He remembers that Ishida never told them in so many words what happened during their invasion of Soul Society, remembers how he tried to distance himself from their group. He’s never let himself think about how they didn’t let him vanish into the background as he tried so hard to. When it was Ichigo, he didn’t have to vanish. He stayed, sitting at the same desk, walking the same roads and yet. Well, he didn’t have to do anything, the others shut him out in a way he never even thought to consider when he swung his sword that final time.
It hurts, but he endured it because he knows that even though he’ll barely speak to him, Ishida goes out of his way just to pass by his house for absolutely no reason other than to see all is well. A month will pass, before Chad will move into his shadow and stay, sometimes carefully discussing the recent Hollows that appear and how Soul Society is keeping their distance. He’ll be gone soon after, but then it’s Inoue who will blow into his personal space, Tatsuki on her heels, a cheerful whirlwind, shoving a bento in his hands and chatting a mile a minute.
They’re all gone within the week.
Keigo and Mizuiro seem to be the only ones holding up their friendship as if nothing has changed, even if Ichigo notices the tension that lingers between them and the others. Thinking back on it now, he can easily see that they were both upset at the way Ishida, Chad and Inoue seemed to be ignoring Ichigo. They’ve never asked about what went down in Fake Karakura, at least from him, but regardless of what they knew or didn’t, they remained his only two friends who seemed determined to return Ichigo’s own loyalty those seventeen months.
It was the little things that he held on to, bits of Ishida, of Chad, Inoue and Tatsuki. If he needed them, truly needed them, he knew they’d be there. He’s never doubted that. He was proved correct, in the instant that Ishida was attacked, they all came together again as if they’d never broken apart.
A part of him insisted, if he really needed it, if he asked, if he broke down so obviously, they would have come back to him. Perhaps it was his fault he couldn’t bring himself to beg for their care, couldn’t bring himself to hear the careful way they would speak to him, as if he would shatter the moment they pressed their fingers too hard into his skin.
Ichigo stands up, eventually, as time regains its grip on him, when he looks up to gaze at the moon reflected in the water and does not allow himself to shake at the sight. He turns his back and heads home, ignoring the way the barest touch of dread settles in his chest. He doesn’t want to look at Isshin. He’s tired of the games and his fists, the loudness of his voice as he says nothing at all.
He thinks he can hide his presence now. Being empty is a feeling he doesn’t think he’ll forget his entire life. It feels like attempting to pour a waterfall through a funnel, but as he draws nearer to the clinic, he thinks he manages it more successfully than he ever has before.
Slipping into his room through the window, Ichigo goes through the motions of taking a shower, brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas while ignoring the ever rising burn in his eyes and the lump that won’t leave in his throat. He crawls into bed and lays there, feeling fragile and unsteady.
Ossan comes without being asked, as he’s always done, his physical manifestation heralded by the deepening of the shadows in his room, by the dip of additional weight in his bed and the comforting pressure as he doesn’t hesitate to touch. There’s no hesitation.
(-he didn’t know where his Hollow is. There was no answer to his increasingly desperate calls.)
Eventually, the tension seeps out of his frame and Ichigo’s eyes began to flutter. He’s exhausted. Old man Zangetsu is a warm and steady presence curled around him and he can feel his sisters in their rooms just across the hall. Goat-face isn’t in the house and Ichigo doesn’t care to exert the effort it would take to search for him. It’s not like he’s familiar with the man’s reiatsu anyway.
A deep breath, a slow exhale and as Ossan’s arms loosen their grip, Ichigo looks up into eyes that, for once, aren’t obscured by sunglasses. His mouth opens, but once again the words stick in his throat. Old man Zangetsu shifts, and he cannot help the instinctual tightening of his grasp on his spirit’s body. But then, the comforter is tugged off his bed and tucked around their bodies and his zanpakuto is leaning back to settle into a more sleep friendly position.
“/Do not worry, Ichigo. I will not leave you. Sleep./”
He stares for a moment longer, at those words so easily spoken. Slowly, he tucks his head in the hollow of old man Zangetsu’s shoulder as the spirit spreads and layers his reiatsu into the space they occupy. A breath, two, three-
Sleep comes far more easily than it has in a long, long time.
When Ichigo wakes, Zangetsu is still there and goat-face’s reiatsu is still absent. But his sisters are up and moving, so he uncurls from Zangetsu’s embrace and gets to his feet. His body shifts and stretches, working out the kinks from sore muscles as Ossan gathers himself and stands. There’s a moment of silence before his lips quirk.
“/You’ve grown taller, Ichigo./”
The very visible pride and affection in Ossan’s gaze made his cheeks burn and a flare of pleasure curl in his chest. Still, he smiles and lets his own feelings color his tone.
“Do you think I’ll be as tall as you someday, Ossan?”
“/Perhaps./”
In a swirl of reds and blacks, Zangetsu returns to Ichigo’s inner world and he leaves his room to greet his sisters. Goat-face would probably be out for some time yet, hopefully. Then, he could go visit his friends. He could feel their reiatsu already, each one bright and blooming in the distance, excitement and happiness fluttering on his senses and that in turn brings an involuntary smile to his face. There is nothing as honest as one’s own soul.
He had no idea how much emotion, meaning and depth he projected and gleaned from other’s reiatsu until he faded away bit by bit. Judging by the odd expressions his friends made during their hovering phases, they were just unaware of such a thing before it smacked them in their faces. God knows all of them were basically self taught, beyond a week or two of actual instruction. What few things they learned from others, didn’t go into depth about their powers.
Ichigo had only trained with Getaboushi for ten days after all. There was very little talking during that, mostly it consisted of Ichigo fighting for his life. His time with Yoruichi was even shorter, at only three days.
Regardless, as he sat down to eat breakfast with his sisters, he couldn’t help the small but genuine smile that lifted his lips. Karin and Yuzu definitely noticed his lightened mood as the latter beamed back and even the former smirked in satisfaction at how much better their Ichi-nii looked. The events of yesterday were more like a bad dream than anything else.
When he finished, there was a swirl of familiar Hollow-tinged reiatsu just outside the front door. He hurried to put his dishes away, pausing long enough to drop a hand on both Yuzu and Karin’s heads and stepped quickly out the door, calling out behind him, “Itterasshai!”
Chad stands on the street, a smile on his face as Ichigo comes out to meet him, his own reiatsu rising to acknowledge the way they both curl and brush against his own presence. In this moment, as they stare at each other, it feels like the past seventeen months were nothing but a nightmare. They don’t say anything as they fall in step, heading towards school, and even though he bites back the bitterness that still sits behind his teeth in favor of the joy he can feel from Chad, Ichigo thinks he knows the other can sense it.
He does his best to bury it deeper and focuses harder on how, for once, everything might just be okay.
Everyone was waiting for him, after all.
Beyond the walk to school, in which both Ichigo and Chad were perfectly fine communicating only through reiatsu, there wasn’t any time to spend with anyone. They all sat through class, somehow managing to keep most of their attention on the teacher. Even if Inoue turned to randomly beam at everyone every time she felt a spike or a flutter in Ichigo’s reiatsu.
When lunch rolled around, everyone in their in-the-know group headed straight for the roof. Ichigo was the last to come, with both Keigo and Mizuiro flanking him, uncharacteristically quiet as they climbed the steps and opened the door to the bright sunlight. Everyone else was already there, turning to look as Ichigo took a second to bask in the reiatsu filling the space in front of him.
He had missed this. Missed this so much.
Even as he walks closer, raising a hand in greeting, he can see the tense silence hanging over them. Clearly, the events of last night were still fresh in their minds and everyone seemed reluctant to break the heavy silence that fell with Ichigo’s appearance.
He knows that the past seventeen months have been hard on all of them. All those things they were supposed to talk about. How Ishida regained his powers, how Inoue was doing after Hueco Mundo, after what he had done to Ulquiorra on the top of Las Noches and the aftermath. He knows even if any of them had issues like his, the nightmares, the insomnia and a hundred other small things that all made life difficult, it wasn’t like there was a therapist they could talk to. He knows they suffered in their own way and for all his own bitterness and sense of betrayal, he knows they never owed him anything.
Even with Tsukishima screwing with all their memories and the apparent betrayal of his friends and family had stressed and almost fully broken the frayed bonds between them, he knows he doesn’t hold their actions against him, Even though the anger and the despair still lingers, even though things weren’t quite back to normal, Ichigo still reveals in the presence of Ishida, of Inoue, Chad, Tatsuki and of Keigo and Mizuiro. He can feel them and even if nothing changes in their interaction, just being able to know they were there was comforting.
Ichigo still heaves a sigh and reaches a hand up to the back of his head, as the silence continues and the emotions in the air build towards something painful and choking.
“Honestly, you guys, if you have a problem, you can at least say it- ”
“No!”
Ichigo jerks back, a shot of adrenaline jolting down his spine, eyes wide at the word shouted in unison from everyone. He glances quickly at his side, at Keigo’s uncharacteristic silence and Mizuiro’s cold eyes. There’s something like shame in Chad’s face. Ishida’s presence withdraws tightly into himself as he roughly pushes up his glasses while Inoue’s eyes drop to the ground, fingers twisting together against her stomach. Tatsuki stands on her feet, wavering between anger and some other emotion Ichigo doesn’t want to even acknowledge.
There is something like shame and regret in all their faces. He doesn’t know if he can stand their apologies for what Tsukishima’s actions caused them to do. He can feel as his face softens from it’s usual scowl and his tone is quiet as he speaks.
“You guys, it’s not your fault-”
“How can you say that? ”
Ishida burst out, voice uncharacteristically loud, frustration and anger stark in his voice. He takes a sharp step forward, gesturing violently towards nothing in particular as his expression scrunches up. His mouth opens and closes and there is something in him that looks almost fragile to Ichigo.
“Ishida-kun,” Inoue steps forward, hand lifting, before she drops it. Between the two of them, there was a terrible, solemn understanding that Ichigo did not like at all.
Ishida seems to gain the push to speak from that single exchange and steps forward, close enough to touch as he speaks, his words full of venom.
“They manipulated you to fight for them! Then and now! They were monitoring you, making sure you were kept in line and when you did your best and solved their problems and fixed their messes and gave up your reiatsu, they threw you away!”
Chad raises his arm, speaking loudly enough to be heard clearly, even if it was only a quick warning.
“Ishida-”
The Quincy slashes his hand through the air, a spark of blue reiatsu following in its wake.
“No, it was all of us! Kurosaki-sensei told us to stay away, to give Kurosaki space and we did and whenever we decided that enough was enough, we tried to fit back in and he always came back to tell us again, to stay away from Ichigo. All of us saw he was miserable! Yet, why did we listen to him?!”
Ichigo grit his teeth as the rage surges so thickly in his chest as his heartbeat ticks up. He takes a breath, sharp and shuddering. He’s long suspected that goat-face had something to do with his friend’s weird behavior. He didn’t have any proof, just a suspicion that he didn’t want to believe. Didn’t want to even think about it. To hear it confirmed…
What right did goat-face even have to insert himself into situations where he was neither wanted nor needed? What right did Isshin have in deciding anything on Ichigo’s behalf?
Ishida was still speaking though, partially snarling and spitting as he worked himself up.
“Urahara-san, the Visored, Shinigami- us! Everyone stayed away! Without asking you, without even doing you the courtesy of checking if that was what you wanted! You-”
“Ishida, enough.”
Ishida’s breath stuttered, eyes wide at Ichigo’s calm interruption. He made a distinctly irritated noise, pushing up his glasses almost petulantly.
“He’s right, Kurosaki-kun,” Inoue interjected, quietly, but firmly as her troubled gaze rose to meet Ichigo’s eyes. “I ran into Kurosaki-sensei at the grocery store a couple days before your reiatsu completely disappeared. He told me not to bother you with Hollows, or Shinigami or the like after- after. He insisted that you had enough of the Spirit World and wanted nothing to do with it. Wanted nothing more than to recover and forget about the whole war and everything…”
Her voice trailed off as Ichigo’s face grew dark. His gaze cut across to Chad, Tatsuki, to Keigo and Mizuiro.
“Did all of you mysteriously run into goat-face and get the same speech?”
He didn’t need the verbal confirmation, as he could already see the looks on their face and feel the way their reiatsu curled in between them.
Well. That would explain things. It would mean that they hadn’t left him willingly. That they tried.
“That bastard had no right to interfere,” he bites out viciously, instead of doing something embarrassing like start crying, “Honestly, who does he think he is?”
“To be honest, we all saw him as a Shinigami so we figured he was like you. That he lost his powers and that he really did know best and he was trying to help by relaying your wishes without the awkward conversation,” Tatsuki explained, before she brought up her fists. “We all wanted to make things easier for you. In any way we could. If we- if I, specifically, had known differently, I would have broken his jaw. Sorry.”
Chad made a sound of agreement, the noise rumbling in his chest in tune with the thickening of his reiatsu, distinctly Hollow and cutting. Ishida said nothing, but he already knew he had nothing more to say.
Ichigo sighed, his posture loosening as something that had been tightly squeezing a fist around his heart for seventeen months, finally loosened it’s unforgiven grip. All he wanted was a simple explanation. A single conversation where those he cared about, cared enough in return to just tell him the truth.
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s in the past. Just, if there’s a next time, maybe remember to ask me things concerning me, next time.”
“I’m sorry, Kurosaki-kun,” Inoue says, eyes wet. “I wanted to believe the best in others without thinking of how stupid it was to not just ask you.”
“It’s as Inoue-san says. We made a mistake we won’t be repeating, Kurosaki,” Ishida agrees, the tension in his own shoulders easing.
Ichigo huffs, a smile lightening his features as he feels something broken and cracked for far too long, settled back into place with an ease that did nothing but make him happier than he'd been in months.
“Can we sit down and eat lunch now?” he asks, a note of teasing in his voice. “I forgot how much more you had to eat when you used reiatsu and I’m only on the second day.”
The atmosphere settled into something light and comfortable with such a discussion now over and done with, as Keigo and Miziuro left his side to take a seat in the makeshift circle. Chad slid in to sit at his side and Inoue wiggled in on the other, only to stick her tongue out at Ishda, which he pretended not to care, even as the red that flushed his face betrayed him. Ichigo couldn’t help the laugh that left him, even as he let himself be drawn into the familiar paths of topics he hadn’t heard in over a year.
Inoue proudly proclaimed her abilities had greatly improved, as both Ishida and Chad confirmed the same, saying without so many words that they had all been training and refining their skills, just in case Ichigo or their friends ever needed them. There was an ease in their interactions that had been missing for the past seventeen months and clearly Ichigo wasn’t the only one who felt relieved that all it took was a single conversation to have this comradery again.
In the middle of coaxing a smile out of Ishida- successfully, in fact- Ichigo paused as a familiar presence brushed up against the edges of his senses. Noticing the stutter in his motions, Chad tilted his head over in curiosity.
“Kurosaki-kun?”
“Ah. Nothing," he reassured Inoue, waving a hand dismissively at the rest of them with their sharp gazes.
Ichigo gazed out into the distance, as the wind ruffled his hair.
"I just remembered I needed to talk with Getaboushi about something.”
Inoue pouted before reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.
“You should call me Orihime,” she said, serious enough that he took a moment just to stare at her. “I would like it if you called me ‘Orihime’, I-Ichigo-kun.”
Oh.
He felt a wide smile spread over his face.
“Yeah. Sure, Orihime.”
Her whole face brightened even as a blush bloomed high on her cheeks.
“And Uryuu-kun!”
Ishida sputtered and his mouth dropped open in shock, matching red on his skin.
“W-what? Kurosaki’s not going to call me Uryuu-kun!”
“Yeah, I don’t think he deserves the ‘kun’ to be honest,” Ichigo says as solemnly as he can manage. “I mean we’ve only invaded Seireitei and Hueco Mundo together. Committed treason to an organization we’re not a part of- several times- with officers of said organization. Not to mention that time he almost killed us all before that by wearing a cape. All the while he can’t even acknowledge us as friends, let alone use ‘Ichigo’. Too scared, I gue-”
“You should have asked, politely or offered if it meant that much to you, Kurosaki! You lack all sense of manners and propriety and can’t be bothered to correct yourself!”
“See you say that, Uryuu,” he says as the Quincy looks for all the world the very image of offence, disgruntled at the presumption, even as his reiatsu gives him away with how pleased he actually is, “But then the happy faces you make when I ignore propriety in front of certain people gives you away.”
“If you want to be rude to Shinigami, you have my full approval as always.”
“If you say so,” he says more softly then he intends and then puts himself to finishing his meal.
He is as hungry as he implied, but hopefully his hair will hide his burning ears. Besides, the reminder of ‘being rude to Shinigami’ has returned to his attention that there was another person he wanted to speak to.
There was a conversation he and jii-san needed to have. Soon.