Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn’t often the Inner World shifted from daytime to nighttime, but Zan always gave it the awe and appreciation it deserved. The expanse of a dark sky stretched on for eternity, a crescent moon high above the clouds between the sprinkle of stars that dotted the ombre of midnight blue and almost pitch-black violet. He found the night sky just as beautiful as the daytime sky he was used to watching, and the peace that continued on throughout the Inner World made him thrum with joy.

He looked down at his feet and stared at the reflection that looked back upon him. Standing on the large lake that constituted the ‘center’ of the Inner World, he caught the mirrored image of the night sky on the surface of the water, briefly disturbed by a breeze that blew against him. It was only a moment later that a presence placed itself right next to him, the echo of a sonido following. He looked up from the lake and toward his partner.

Getsu looked the same as he usually did, although the scowl on his face and the glare of his gold eyes were a tad deeper than usual. Of course, Zan knew why Getsu was more upset than usual. It was easy to deduce even without any words between the two.

It was the anniversary of Masaki’s death.

“Surprised it ain’t pissin’ rain right now,” Getsu bit out, his head tilted up towards the sky.

Zan followed his gaze and watched the clouds inch their way across the sky, just as they would in the daytime. He supposed if the Inner World was to represent Ichigo’s emotions, nighttime would represent ‘darkness’. He was, at the very least, glad for the lack of rain. Getsu cocked his head as if he heard Zan’s thoughts, and scoffed.

“Don’t get yer hopes up.” He stretched his arms above his head and yawned, full sharp teeth on display. “Won’t be surprised when the clouds start ta get together.”

“Ichigo does deserve the right to cry, no matter how horrible it feels for us,” he retorted, but the words felt false on his tongue. Getsu scoffed once more.

“Least he can do is talk to us about it, or get us the hell out of this place. Still keeps on that damned ‘hero’ shit he’s on no matter how many times we tell him we’re here.” Zan, no matter how he might try to reason it, knew that Getsu was correct.

A gust of wind passed them, stronger than the last. The peaceful silence stretched on as they watched the sky, the clouds, as if to catch the first signs of a rain that would bring down their mood. Zan traced the moon with his eyes, content where he was in both place and time. But with the silence came the thoughts in his mind.

Years ago, he wouldn’t have felt so at peace and calm at Getsu’s side ( the Hollow’s side , as his past self would have remarked), wouldn’t have regarded the Zanpakutou as his partner ( Zangetsu, Zanpakutou, Quincy, who really are you? ). It left the taste of guilt and shame on his tongue whenever he thought of his past transgressions, but he reminded himself of how he had changed.

There was a phrase he told himself every time, a phrase he’d come to believe the more he reasoned through it: To look upon one’s past self in embarrassment and disgust was a sign of change and betterment. And as he looked back on his past, he knew that he was better than his past, that he had changed for the better through both time and his own steps towards that change.

“Yer thinkin’ too fuckin’ loud,” Getsu loudly remarked, an edge of irritation to his tone. Zan glanced at him and only barely managed to dodge the fist directed at his face.

“If ya can dodge my fist, ya can start talkin’ about yer feelin’s.” Getsu turned to look at him fully. Zan had no choice but to match him in turn. “I swear, we can’t be tellin’ Ichigo to talk to us when we can’t talk to each other.”

Zan sighed, but was not able to keep the satisfied smile off his face. “We really have matured, haven’t we?”

Getsu raised an eyebrow at him. “Are ya thinkin’ about how ya were in the past? ‘cause for the record, I wasn’t all that great either.”

“You weren’t as bad as me, however.” He dodged another fist. “I am not saying that in shame or guilt, I am saying that because it is a fact.”

“Good,” Getsu snarled. “I’m tired of you feelin’ shitty an’ then makin’ me feel shitty ‘cause I can feel all of yer shitty fuckin’ feelin’s.”

It was a testament to their close relationship that rather than telling Getsu off for his language, Zan instead tried to kick him through the nearest skyscraper. Of course, Getsu dodged it perfectly. He didn’t expect anything different from his partner. Getsu cackled, delighted at the violent response, and peered up at him with a sharp smile.

“Ya missed.” Getsu kicked at him in turn, to which he dodged. “We talked ‘bout this before. I forgive ya, ya were shitty in the past, I was shitty too, yadda yadda yah. The only reason why yer still thinkin’ ‘bout it is ‘cause yer an idiot.”

“I believe what you’re doing right now is ‘sending mixed signals’,” he retorted. “And I do know that you’ve forgiven me, just as I know that I have changed for the better. I am not the same person as I was before.”

Although, a reminder of those facts never hurt. As if Getsu read his thoughts, and perhaps he had felt the idea even if he had not heard it, he remarked, “Jeez, do I need to remind you every time ya get like this?”

Zan had no response. The question was rhetorical, but they both knew the real answer to the question. Which begged another question... “Should I give you a reminder that I find myself fond of you as well?”

“‘Find myself fond of you’, for fuck’s sake, just use regular words!” Getsu gave a wordless yell to the sky, but in the moonlight the blue blush on his face was clear as day. It gave way for some lighthearted teasing, most of which Zan would blame Getsu for. He fought back a smile.

“Ah, I suppose you’re correct. Should I take a page out of Ichigo’s book and say that I lo-”

“Nope! Uh-uh, we are done here, this conversation is over,” Getsu shouted, cutting off his sentence. He crossed his arms and turned away, the blue tips of his ears stark against the white of his hair. 

He felt rather proud he managed to topple Getsu’s emotional walls just a tad and was ready to continue, but decided to push back on the urge. Getsu could easily turn the situation on him, and leave him the one flustered at the end of the exchange. He was fine with where the conversation was at the moment.

“I never should’ve taught you a sense of personality,” Getsu grumbled, “ya piece of shit, fuckhead bastard.”

Zan let Getsu gather back his emotional walls before he spoke again. “Thank you for the reminder, Getsu. I’d like to believe I’ve forgiven myself as well. Sometimes, however, it’s difficult to believe. I know that you weren’t entirely serious earlier, but if you ever find the time... I will always appreciate a reminder. And I am perfectly content to respond in kind as well.”

More than content, perhaps, but when the blue of Getsu’s ears grew deeper in color he knew Getsu would likely keel over if he ever voiced the feeling out loud. Speaking of, Getsu pressed his hands over his ears and threw his head back in a groan.

“Man, fuck you. My ‘open’ meter has been entirely used up, I do not want to continue any more conversations about—” Getsu made an exaggerated gagging noise. “—feelings.”

A chuckle slipped past his lips against his own volition, but between the warmth in his chest and the lightness in the air he let it slide without a sliver of shame. Getsu jerked around to look at him, an edge of surprise on his face.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Should we go talk with Ichigo as well? Force him to have a conversation as you did with me?”

“As if I need to be subjected to more feelin’s. Just ‘cause I got a heart doesn't mean I wanna hear about emotions,” Getsu scoffed. “And I didn’t force you to do anythin’, ya were jus’ bein’ stupid and I made sure ya were less stupid.”

Despite Getsu’s seemingly harsh words and the irritated tone he held, it was obvious he didn’t mean harm by any of it. And for that, Zan felt the twitch of a smile at his lips. “I suppose we’ll save any talks for later. Although, if he does approach us, I assume you’ll be a part of it despite how much you grouse about ‘feelings’?”

“Ya already know the answer to that,” Getsu snapped. The echo of his emotions that came back to Zan told him more than his tone did. A hint of concern, mixed with confidence and trust. “If it ain’t rainin’ yet, he’ll be fine on his own.”

He nodded along to Getsu’s words. Ichigo, for all that’d he been through, was a more stable man than the boy he was years ago. As a whole, the time that spanned Ichigo’s first experience as a Soul Reaper to now wasn’t very long, but it was enough to allow Ichigo to grow, albeit in a more traumatizing and disturbing way.

Zan had full faith that if Ichigo needed them, he would reach out. And as the clouds continued to drift in the clear sky, not a hint of rain in them just yet, he had no reason to question his trust.

“Speaking of Ichigo, I wanted to ask ya something.” He glanced at Getsu, taken aback by the topic brought up and the serious expression on his partner’s face. “It’s about his mom’s death.”

That, to him, caught him off guard even more. “What of Masaki’s death?”

“It’s jus’... have ya ever thought that maybe ya, I don’t know, did exist durin’ that time?” Getsu threw out the question with a tone of uncertainty. And even with their connection to each other, Zan wasn’t able to distinguish what Getsu meant. Getsu growled in frustration.

“Like, after that moment, after Masaki’s death there’s this feelin’ like I know that I existed after that. After her death it was like I knew I existed. But before that? It’s a lot more hazy,” he elaborated. “My brain’s tellin’ me I existed before, but my soul is tellin’ me there was somethin’ more.”

“I... can’t say I’ve ever thought about it before.” Zan looked down at their reflections in the water. The sight of it made him tense . But why?

There was a strange stone in the bottom of his stomach. He couldn’t distinguish the emotion that came with it, but it left him uneasy, uncertain. There was something that was missing, and without that missing piece he couldn’t reason to a logical conclusion. And with what Getsu said...

“Now that you say that, I feel the same way. It’s as if my belief that I existed after Masaki’s death is more solidified, more real to me. But before that, I can’t say for certain my existence was a true fact. Which doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’!” Getsu rocked back on his feet and threw his arms out, frustration and confusion a strong echo back at him. “We’re a part of Ichigo. We had ta have existed since the moment Ichigo existed, so why aren’t we sure that we existed before Masaki’s death? What was it about Masaki’s death that made us more real ? Ever since I realized this I- I can’t stop fuckin’ thinking about it!”

Getsu’s yell reverberated throughout the Inner World like the boom of thunder in a storm. For a moment, he thought he saw a strike of blue, like lightning across his eyes. He grit his teeth and focused on Getsu, whose hands were gripped to his hair and his eyes were wide and wild, panicked. The echo of the emotion was strong, strong enough that it felt like his own.

They couldn’t afford to get so strongly affected by a revelation they hadn’t even grasped the full concept of. Soon, Ichigo would catch a whisper of the panic and would come to find out what was wrong. The result of his arrival may be even more consequential than the situation they were in at the moment.

“Getsu? Getsu, can you hear me?” He drew as close to Getsu as he felt comfortable with, careful to keep his hands off of Getsu. “Calm down. Panicking will only make things worse.”

“Astute observation Sherlock, got any more fun facts for me?” Despite Getsu’s whapish words, he started to breathe deeply, following a pattern Zan recognized from Ichigo. He followed suit with Getsu, both to help him and alleviate his own panic. After more than a minute, Getsu straightened up and brushed himself off.

Hair strewn about and eyes wide, Getsu looked about as harried and panicked as he felt inside. He pulled away from Getsu and gathered himself together. It took a moment before he spoke up. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Getsu took one last deep breath before he looked at him. “Ya good?”

“Yes. I am, however, deeply discomforted by what just happened and how fast panic managed to set in at our realization. There is certainly more to this situation than I thought, and I’d never once thought about this before now.” He ran a hand through his hair and let the peace of the Inner World settle around him. Even that was not enough to help the deep-seated unease that gripped him.

Getsu grimaced and shook his whole body, as if to physically rid himself of the panic that had gripped him earlier. “How ‘bout we forget I brought it up and just do somethin’ else? Preferably fight away whatever the hell just happened?”

“We’ll have to talk about it soon. We can’t just ignore this situation, just as we cannot ignore our emotions and feelings.” Getsu’s responding distaste echoed his own discontent surrounding a future conversation, but he knew it was one they had to have later. “However, I do agree. We should take a moment to fully pull ourselves together.”

The grin he got in return was feral, on the edge of desperate for a fight. But before Getsu could jump straight into it, Zan opened his arms and stared down at his partner. It was quite obvious what he wanted, but Getsu continued to stand and glare straight into his eyes.

“Really? Yer kiddin’ me,” Getsu deadpanned. It was quite obvious that he was, in fact, not kidding Getsu.

“I know that you reached your limit on ‘openness’ and emotions earlier and I have no problem with fighting you and the opportunity at catharsis. But I think this would help both of us.” He made a slight motion with his arms, as if to beckon Getsu forward. “Please. Humor me.”

And Getsu, in all his begrudging and annoyed behavior, took one last look at Zan’s open arms before he moved forward. There was an eye roll before they embraced each other, Getsu’s chin on his shoulder and his ivory hair soft against his cheek, Getsu’s familiar grumble near his ear, but it wasn’t enough to stifle the echo of contentment and satisfaction that pressed against him.

“Getsu-”

“If ya thank me again, I will stab ya in the gut,” was the snap-back.

In the embrace, Getsu’s arms wrapped tight around his torso, and he melted just as Getsu did. He felt warm despite the ever-present chill of Getsu’s body. In the midst of the teasing and the panic, it was as if the peace and calm from earlier was finally allowed to settle in him. The unease ebbed away. At that moment, it was just him and Getsu.

Together, as one.

Together.

To... ge... ther...

...ther.........

............

........

....

..

.

(Huh?)

Chapter Text

He opened his eyes to a clouded sky. It was dark, not even a hint of light shining through whatever gaps existed in the gray expanse that stretched out above him. It looked as if it was about to rain, and he scowled up at the sky. He hated rain. His stomach crawled at the mere thought of having to be in the rain again.

With the taste of a future rainfall on his tongue, he pushed himself off the ground. He looked down at the surface beneath his feet and paused. It was dark, not like the green grass he was used to, and he squinted down at it. Ah, that’s what it was. It was water, the large lake that he knew. But instead of being submerged, he stood on the surface with ease.

But how? How was it that he was standing on the surface of the lake? Surely he would have—

The tension beneath his feet fell away. Immediately, his entire body was in the lake. The cold water sent a chill up his spine, muffled his ears and made him breathless. He coughed out whatever breath was in his lungs and watched the bubbles float to the surface. For a moment his body flailed, but his mind reminded him he couldn’t drown. And

he had to get out. If he stayed in the water any longer he wouldn’t be able to leave. The Inner World would flood.  The storm would tear this beautiful world asunder. Ichigo needed him! He had to get out, he had to get out, 

get out, 

get out, 

get out now.

Gripped with the instinct to survive, he kicked his feet and swung his arms until his head was above the surface. He channeled the knowledge that he accrued from the first minute he had managed to stand on the water, that moment in time where his body knew what to do, and copied that moment. With a confidence he didn’t truly feel, he pulled himself onto the lake’s surface as if it were solid ground and laid atop the water.

Water spilled out of his mouth. In an instant his entire body was dry again, but he didn’t have time to think about that. He looked up to the sky, the gray clouds that reached on for an endless length towards the horizon, and then back down to the area that surrounded the lake.

It was just like he remembered. A far expanse of trees and lush flora that stretched on and on. Skyscrapers that stood high above the clouds. It was all untouched by the flood that he remembered, the storm that rocked this world and had him grasping for a moment of control in a time of helplessness and fear. He wondered if Ichigo was okay, if the storm that had wrought itself had gone away in its entirety. The clouds that spelled rain told him that was not yet the case.

He stood on shaky legs, a wave of exhaustion washing over him, and was at the edge of the lake in the matter of a Sonido. He collapsed to his knees like a stringless puppet, and almost laughed at the thought that overcame him. If you’re such a stringless puppet, just use Puppet Suit. Dumbass .

Ah, the wonders of his nature. He was sure no other Shinigami could boast as Ichigo would one day, of his own soul being the balance of Quincy, Hollow, and Zanpakutou. He couldn’t wait to meet the boy when it was time, to fight by his side and be able to see that bright orange hair and kind brown eyes in person, rather than a measly reflection on the surface of a lake.

Once he took a moment to catch his breath and pull himself together, he turned back to the lake and looked down on its surface. It was dark, so dark that he could barely catch a glimpse of himself. Although he couldn't feel or sense any lasting damage, he found it better to check out for himself how his physical image looked before he could say he was alright for certain.

He pulled on his Quincy powers and watched the veins beneath his skin glow blue, tracing themselves up from his hands and through his body. With the added illumination, he was able to see his reflection on the surface of the water. But when he did, he saw someone. Someone that wasn’t him. He jerked away from the lake, but it was too late. He had seen his eyes.

His eyes were no longer vivid green with the black sclera he was used to. Instead, his pupils were a gold yellow and bright blue, but it was together in a strange way; his left eye’s pupil was mostly blue, with a splatter of gold while his right eye’s pupil was opposite, mostly gold with a hint of blue. The colors didn’t mix together, and were independent of each other. And his sclera... On the left, the top part of the sclera was white and the bottom part was black. His right sclera was opposite, similar to how his eyes were opposites of each other.

It made no sense. Why did his eyes look like that? Had the storm done that to him? He looked down at his hands and blanched.

The skin of his hands were no longer the singular pale skin tone he had known. It was hard to tell whether the majority was the tanned skin or the Hollow white, but it was clear that he was now made of two skin tones. He stared down at his hands, parts scarred and other smooth, his fingernails an alternating pattern of black and blue. It was wrong . Whoever’s hands he was looking at, they were not his.

Above him, a streak of lightning flew across the clouds. Thunder rumbled only a second later. The smell of rain hit him, followed by the first drizzle of the shower. It spelt of a downpour. And yet, despite the lump in his throat and the deafening heartbeat in his ears, he was frozen to the ground. His eyes fell to the lake, rippling with each drop that fell upon its surface, and looked back to his reflection.

If there was something he could take solace in, it was the fact that his hair looked almost the same. It was still black and white, except rather than being black with streaks of white the colors had been swapped. It fell down to his jawline, an odd mix of sharp points and wavy strands. That was fine. He... he could work with that.

He traced the scars on his face, the places where the colors of his skin were separated, the differences and similarities he found the longer he stared. He didn’t know why he looked like this. He didn’t even know where the scars came from, why his fingernails were suddenly painted, why he seemed so... different from when he last remembered. He didn’t look like himself anymore. He looked like the amalgamation of two people, merged together but not fully together .

“This is me?”

And inside of him, below his reason and his instinct, his Hollow and his Quincy and his Zanpakutou was

Who is ‘me’?

He was... he was Ichigo’s Zanpakutou. He was a Hollow and a Quincy. His name was

Ichigo’s Zanpakutou? A Hollow? A Quincy? Who are you?

The skies thundered. The rain poured down onto him, chilled his skin with the sadness of his wielder, pressed a heavy weight onto his shoulders. He stared down at the person he saw on the surface of the lake. He looked up from the image of a man who wasn’t him and looked at the beloved world that spread on for eternity.

Looked and studied and saw.

When did the skyscrapers become so ruined? When did vines start to crawl up through broken windows and rusted metal? When did Ichigo’s sadness become so deep, so sharp, so heavy that it felt as if the weight of the world was in every drop that the skies cried down upon his Inner World? When, when, when?

The storm? The lightning? The flood? He looked back on his memories, which felt so long ago, so so so long ago, and remembered

It was raining in Ichigo’s outside world, but in the Inner World it was the same beautiful, sunny day that he loved. Warm and wonderful. The lake functioned like a window to the outside world, to what Ichigo saw through his own eyes. His mother, with her kind smile and her bright eyes. The overcast sky, the rain and the road ahead. The girl by the river.

He watched. He saw. He knew what the girl truly was, but Ichigo didn’t. And then

Blood-curdling scream. Blue lightning, bright and fast and pain . The heavens rained, the storm roared, the lake started to rise, above his feet and above his ankles and above his knees. The world tipped and tipped and tipped. He couldn’t save. He couldn’t protect. He couldn’t

couldn’t

couldn’t

“...mom?”

His scream echoed above the rainfall. But it couldn’t beat the thunder that rumbled through his now ruined world.

Chapter Text

Ichigo could be doing many things right now. What was it that he was doing? Lying in bed, depressed to all hell and nursing the ache of his dead mom like she’d died yesterday, instead of the many years she was taken away. Being alone in his apartment likely wasn’t doing good for him either.

He knew that he had friends. Hell, he had family, people he could call and just talk to about how he felt. But it was always so difficult to talk about today even after all the years he had to accept what had happened. He sighed for the umpteenth time, a feeling of helplessness and sadness he knew was misplaced and unfounded when he had people he could talk to .

Yet his family felt like a no-go. Despite the fact that they were probably the best ones to talk with about Mom’s death, it felt like a forbidden topic between them. There was no outright agreement about it, but after Mom had died they had never really talked about it outloud, too busy trying to grapple with the fact that they no longer had a mom to talk at length about it. Even now that feeling persisted in him.

And his friends... he loved his friends. But they usually had to pry words out of his mouth before he started to voluntarily talk about how he felt, so that probably wouldn’t work out. Damn. Now that he thought about it, his problem was more about him than about who he talked with.

With his options lowered, there were only two people he knew he could talk to. And if there was anyone he would talk to, it would be those two. Oh living and dead, it was probably pouring in his mindscape right now, wasn’t it? He hadn’t gotten any words of complaint from either of them but he chalked that up to the fact that it was his mom’s death. 

Still, he had promised to be better for them. ‘Being better’ staying in bed and pondering who to talk to about his feelings, especially not letting his feelings rain down on them. He sat up and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to relax. The first thing he should do was reach out to them and make sure they were alright.

Besides, he didn’t want to get drenched in his own sadness-induced rain.

Zan? Getsu? You guys there?

The response he got wasn’t... what he expected. Instead of a formed, coherent thought, it was like a push of emotions onto him in an uncontrolled way. Was it Getsu? Zan had never done anything like that before, and if it had to be anyone it would be Getsu. But that was the strangest thing; the presence the response came from was both familiar and unfamiliar.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat on the edge. He took another deep breath and relaxed his whole body, concentrating on materializing the presence right next to him. He reached out and gently pulled on the presence. In return, the presence latched on to the connection and, with what he could only describe as a tug, he pulled the presence onto the bed next to him.

But instead of the presence landing on the bed next to him, it tumbled off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud . He jumped away and held back the urge to start a fight. Whoever the presence was, it was obvious they were from his Inner World and didn’t mean any harm. Not when they were crumpled into a wet, cloak-covered pile on his bedroom floor.

Quiet on his bed, he allowed the person to gather themself together. After a moment of silence, the person rolled onto their elbows, rainwater dripping off of their hair. He studied the length and the color of it, strange but fitting to all the people he’d come to know over the course of his life.

With the added water to their hair, it fell in wavy strands with spiked ends, although it looked pretty long even if it went without water. It fell across their back, about halfway down their body. From what he could tell the hair was white with black streaks starting from the ends of the strands and fading out as it continued up the length. With how it curtained around their downturned face, he couldn’t see what they looked like.

He didn’t need to wait long to see, however, when the person pushed themself onto their feet and wiped the wet strands of hair from their face. At their full height, they were taller than him but not as tall as Zan. They turned to look at him, and he was met with a face that looked familiar yet was one he’d never seen in his life.

Their eyes were blue and gold, like heterochromia, except the top and bottom parts of the irises were switched between the eyes. Their sclera was similar to that state as well. It was as if one of their eyes had black sclera and the other had white sclera, and somewhere along the way the top and bottom halves had been switched along the way.

Just like their eyes and their hair, their skin tone also consisted of two colors. Some parts of their skin were tan while other parts were like the white of a bone, different enough for it to be supernatural. Or perhaps it was just vitiligo, but with his luck it wouldn’t be that simple. And their clothes...

Well, their clothes weren’t that strange in the grand scheme of things. Their top was a button up shirt with its sleeves torn at the sleeve ends, white and black in a chaotic pattern of sorts. The shirt was tucked into a pair of loose pants, equally black and white as the shirt, that was held up by a black cloth belt. They also wore a large black cloak with ripped ends that ended at their ankles. On the cloak itself, around the collar of their button up, was pristine white fur as if made for a king.

And when their eyes finally met, them dazed and him confused, he was finally forced to confront what he had realized the second he laid his eyes on the person in front of him. Every single piece of information their appearance gave him only further his revelation. The blue and gold eyes, the skin tones, the seeming obsession with the colors white and black, the cloak and the fur... it was as if this person was made from bits and pieces of Zan and Getsu.

They were also in his Inner World, which meant one thing: this person, whoever they were, was somehow connected to Zan and Getsu. How? He had absolutely no clue.

“Ichigo?” the person whispered, their voice a baritone that had an echo to it. It was just another point towards Zan and Getsu; it was as if Zan had Getsu’s hollow-like echo in his voice. “Are... are you okay? You’ve been staring at me for a while now.”

He shook his head of his thoughts. “Yeah- I’m okay. I should ask you that same question. You’re still covered in rainwater and you were on the floor for a while.”

They laughed, a strange thing to hear with their voice, and it was much more lighthearted than he’d heard Zan or Getsu be. At least as openly as this person was.

“I felt you reach out to me. And- well, I was a bit caught off guard by it but I immediately responded. When you pulled me into the outside world, I was so startled it took me a while to reason through it. On the floor, of course,” they said. “It was pouring inside of your Inner World and I hate rain, but I’m glad that you reached out to me! Not that, uh...”

Their sentence trailed off, eyes open and staring directly at him. Even though they had stared at each other for at least 5 minutes beforehand, the person still seemed off-put by his appearance. Their eyes wandered from his hair to his face and down his body. Then, their face started to blank out, slowly going devoid of any emotion. Even Zan’s neutral face didn’t hold a candle to the emptiness that their expression had.

“...not that yer supposed to be able to do that,” they finished, so quiet he almost didn’t hear.

“Not supposed to be able to do what?” He cocked his head.

“You weren’t supposed to know about me,” they whispered, “and you weren’t supposed to be able to materialize me.”

He crossed his arms and squinted up at them, confused and a bit suspicious. Not supposed to be able to materialize someone from his Inner World? That didn’t make any sense. He opened his mouth to ask more, but was cut off as the person continued, eyes unfocused on something that didn’t exist.

“Yer so much different than I remember. Yer taller, Yer older , but that doesn’t make sense. It couldn’t have been that long since... since what happened, could it have been?” They buried their face into their hands and started to hunch over, their breathing erratic and heavy. “No... no, that doesn’t make sense. But then why did the Inner World look different from what I remember? It was still raining after last time. But I look different too... then... what..?”

They swayed on the spot, a tremble in their hands, and he lurched forward to take hold of their arms. With the added support, they didn’t collapse like he thought they would. They leaned their weight onto him and peered out from between their fingers, a fearful sheen to their eyes. Even though they stared directly at them, it was like they could see him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he comforted, low and soft. “You gotta breathe, okay? Follow me.”

He took deep, slow breaths, easy and exaggerated for them to follow along. They stood for minutes in that position, going through the breathing exercise to lessen their panic and his own concern. It was the same sort of exercise he knew Zan and Getsu knew, and he wondered if this person also knew the breathing exercise.

So many mysteries and questions that he had to let unanswered until this person was steady enough to talk normally. Not to mention the questions that had cropped up with what they had said beforehand. Living and dead, he wished he could come to a solid conclusion on whatever was happening in front of him.

“You alright now?” He pushed their arms up, helping them straighten up.

They nodded. “Yes, I am back in a more composed state. Thank you for your help.”

“Now that you’re better, do you think you can ask some questions?” He stared up at them, noting that the rainwater was finally gone from their body. “I’m still lost on basically everything.”

“Well, I have to say that I am as well,” they laughed. “Ask away. I hope I’ll have the answers you need.”

“For starters, I want to know who you are.”

“Who I am? I can’t tell you my name, but I’m a part of you,” they answered, cryptic as all get out. “I’ve been with you from the very moment your soul existed.”

“You can’t tell me your name, can you?” He had a feeling he knew why, and that his next question might get them going.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s actually up to you to figure it out.”

Ah. That was the answer he was looking for.

“Next question: do you know Zan and Getsu?”

They squinted down at him and, with a low tone, asked, “Zan and Getsu? What... odd names.”

‘Odd names’ indeed. He shook his head and continued on from the question. Whatever answer he would be given would likely muddle his thoughts even further.

“Let’s, uh, skip that one for now. Can you tell me what you meant by ‘you’re older’? That means you knew me when I was younger, right?”

“Yeah,” they sighed, evidently wistful. “You were pretty young the last I can remember. I think you were nine.”

“The last time you remember me, I was nine?” Living and dead, now he was even more confused. “That’s... a pretty long time ago.”

“Is that so?” They cocked their head and squinted their eyes, that familiar blank look making its appearance again. He moved on to his next question as fast as he could.

“What else do you remember? If the last thing you remember is me being nine, there must be something else you’ve remembered,” he pushed.

They closed their eyes and cradled the side of their head with their head. Their face contorted into a pained, stressed expression as they tried to recall their past. He watched with apprehension, hands poised to take control if they were to lose themself again.

“There was... it was sunny in the Inner World, but it was raining in the outside world,” they started. At the mention of rain, his chest tightened. Unease pooled in his stomach. Was it what he thought it was?

He stayed quiet as they continued, “You were with your mother.” Oh no. “And you were so, so happy. But then there was... there was this girl, near the river.” Oh no, no no no. “You didn’t know what it was, but I recognized it for what it was. You... you approached it and then—”

“Stop.”

It was hard to listen to someone else’s point of view on his mom’s death day. But it wasn’t the sticking sadness in his heart that made him cut them off. The more they talked, the blanker their expression became, their pained face melting into something more horrific in its emptiness. He took hold of their arms and shook them, desperate to keep them in reality.

Too far gone to take notice of his futile attempts, they continued to talk.

“There was a scream, and lightning. The whole Inner World was raining, storming, it started to flood up and up and up. And I- I couldn’t do anything to help you, to protect you.” They were starting to hyperventilate, eyes wide and darting around his bedroom. “I blacked out. And then I woke up. I didn’t notice anything was wrong at first. I thought that it was going to rain because the storm hadn’t let up. But then I looked at myself and I- I looked wrong, it was all wrong. And the skyscrapers- they were destroyed. Did the storm do that? What had happened while I was blacked out? And then- and then-”

Their legs gave out under them. He followed them down to the floor, helping to soften the landing. The sudden change in position didn’t falter their rant at all, words continuing to tumble out of their mouth non-stop.

“And then you tugged me into the outside world and I saw you. You were so much older than I remembered. You weren’t the Ichigo I knew anymore, you had grown up.” They bowed their head and curled in on themself, eyes shadowed by their hair. Their rapid breathing ghosted against his face. “I... I wasn’t blacked out for a day, a week, not even a year, was I? I was out for years . And you grew up in that time... but then what happened to me? Why did I only wake up now? Who...”

He took his hands from their arms and brushed away the hair covering their face. And at that movement, tears started to stream from their eyes. Droplets fell from their jaw and landed onto their pant legs, a strangled sob breaking out from their mouth. They looked directly into his eyes, blue and gold familiar in every way.

“Ichigo... who am I?”

The name sat on the edge of his tongue, just like that day years ago, pressed for a name that belonged to his soul. Who am I? What is my name? He knew it, didn’t he? He knew it from the moment he laid eyes on his zanpakutou.

“You’re a part of me,” he whispered, “Zangetsu.”

And with that final word, Zangetsu fell forward into his lap, put unconscious by that single word from his lips. He didn’t know how Zan or Getsu had managed to get themselves into this mess, how Zangetsu the one being came to be in his Inner World, but he did know one thing:

The universe got drunk off of his misery.

Chapter Text

Zangetsu was, by all definition, fucked .

Waking up after many years of being asleep (or rather, not existing), only to be bombarded by confusion and trauma(?), was not what he expected of his life. Not to mention that he met face to face with Ichigo and then passed out in his lap. That was definitely not the impression he wanted to give his wielder the first time that he met him.

Although, it wasn’t the first time he’d met Ichigo, was it? Because from what he now remembered, he had in fact met Ichigo. Just not as Zangetsu, the single being. But as... well, as Zan and Getsu.

It was odd, to see things from two different perspectives that he knew were technically him(?) but also... wasn’t?... him, but if he reasoned through it he could come to a logical and swift conclusion. Not to mention that his instinct was already telling him this was not only true but right meant that he just needed to take the steps to figure out why that was.

So, he reasons like this: the last thing he, as Zangetsu, remembered was the day that Ichigo’s mother had died. He surmised that the sheer shock of it all had, in laymans terms, literally broke him the fuck apart and torn him in half. Not only that, but from what he could gather from the other memories that came to him, the entirety of Ichigo’s Inner World had turned sideways.

It was like that phrase: their whole world turned upside down. Except this time, the world had rather turned sideways. (Did that mean the effect of the situation only worked halfway? No, wait, focus.) And after that, he, as Zangetsu, no longer existed. Instead, it was Zan and Getsu that now existed as a result of his split.

Just as a flatworm is split in half (and hear him out here), he himself was split in half. It wasn’t smooth, certainly not and perhaps not even equal, but it still happened. Neither Zan or Getsu was the ‘original’; they were both a part of the original being that was Zangetsu. But with enough time, just like a flatworm, those two parts grow into their own bodies. They start being their own... well, beings .

Of course, they still retained parts of him—Zangetsu—in their personalities and behaviors, but without the context of being parts of a whole, they started to become whole themselves. They weren’t ZanGetsu, they were Zan and Getsu (ah wordplay, what a wonderful thing). And as a result of the fusion after so long of being themselves, it was why he looked so different from how he was before.

Green was made from blue and yellow ( gold , rather, but to keep on the point). A skin tone that stood in the middle ground between Zan’s tan skin and Getsu’s bone white skin. The black sclera he used to have- well, that he chalked up to the fact that physical Hollow characteristics were more dominant. Punnett squares and all that shit. Either way, each part of his previous physical appearance could be seen in Zan and Getsu. And as such, parts of their physical appearances could be seen in his current physical appearance.

There were still parts of his physical appearance that were similar enough to his previous one. His hair, for one, it was the same except the colors seemed swapped. And his clothes were practically the same, except the black and white was more orderly; one half of his top was fully white and the other half was black. The same could be said for his pants.

It was like he had thought when he had first seen his reflection in the Inner World. The amalgamation of two people, but instead of Zan and Getsu’s features being perfectly merged and arranged, the features hadn’t melded together. The blue and gold of his eyes not melding together to make green, his skin resembling that of vitiligo rather than a single color, his sclera being a mess . It was a testament to how Zan and Getsu had verged away from being parts and being themselves.

But there were also the parts that stayed relatively the same about his appearance. The things that showed how there were still parts of Zangetsu in them, just altered in the years that they had existed as themselves. The more he thought about it, though, the harder it became to really pull together a conclusion.

The only reason his previous physical appearance was practically perfect was because there was never a Zan or a Getsu to exist in the first place. He was just... himself. No two parts, no two perspectives, no memories from two different people in him. With the split from years before, he was gone from existence. He should have stayed gone. But he was back again, and with it came the heavy burden from the two parts of him.

He wasn’t just a fusion of Zan and Getsu. He was Zangetsu . He was his own being, but he was also two people. What was he supposed to do with that information? Was he supposed to do anything with it in the first place? And if he was supposed to do anything, what was that thing he was supposed to do?

Fucking hell. The moment he comes back to existence, everything just gets more complicated. And on Masaki’s death anniversary as well.

He looked back on the facts that he knew. He was Ichigo’s zanpakutou. He was Zangetsu. He was himself. He was two people in one. He was different, changed over the years, but he was still who he was. And... he still had no fucking clue what to do with all this information. Living and dead, why did things have to be this complicated? 

All the while he was thinking and reasoning in his brain, he was laid out on Ichigo’s bed and pretending to stay asleep under the covers. Ichigo was somewhere else in the apartment, likely in the kitchen or the living room. Was it late? It probably was. He should get up.

With great reluctance, he threw the covers off and pushed himself out of the bed. And immediately almost collapsed as vertigo took hold of him. He held onto the bedframe and stood for a moment, waiting until he felt well enough to stand on his own. Once the dizziness left him, he shook himself to full awareness and made his way to where Ichigo was.

Just as he guessed, Ichigo was in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table, the smell of coffee wafting from the steaming cup in his hands. Not the best decision at—he glanced at the clock—4:34 in the morning, but he would’ve liked a cup of coffee if the effects worked as well as it would for him as for actual humans. And besides, at least it wasn’t fucking vodka or something.

Ichigo, sensing his presence, looked up from the cup and made eye contact with him. From the exhausted twinge to his face and the bags already forming beneath his eyes, the Inner World was definitely drenched in rain at the moment. He cringed as the hatred of rain from himself, Zan, and Getsu all washed over him at that moment.

“You’re awake,” Ichigo stated, voice hoarse and rough.

Lacking a proper response, he nodded and made himself comfortable at one of the kitchen counters. There was a beat of silence between them as he gathered his thoughts. Ichigo spoke up once again.

“Are you better now?” He took a sip of the coffee in his hands.

“Yes. I’m feelin’ well again.” Zangetsu pulled the cloak tight around his body and took comfort in the warmth. “I’ve had time to think about everything, as well as time to remember what I’d forgotten.”

At that, Ichigo straightened up in his chair and looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He chalked it up to the fact that, before he passed out, neither of them knew fuck all what was going on.

“Before Zan and Getsu existed, I was yer zanpakutou. I was yer only zanpakutou. But after yer mother had... passed away, that had changed.” He took a deep breath and hoped that the storm in Ichigo’s mind hadn’t gotten worse. “I was split apart into two parts, the two beings you now know as Zan and Getsu. And yer Inner World, having once been the same orientation as it is now, was turned on its side as a result of the shock you had gone through that day.”

“So... you’re, like, my original zanpakutou? But after what happened to my mom, you were split apart and my world went all sideways?” Ichigo, despite the confused look on his face, took the information better than Zangetsu thought he would.

“Yer latter statement is correct,” he confirmed. “As for the first... well, you could say that. Technically, yes, I am yer original zanpakutou. But by the time I came back into existence, like I did a few hours ago, Zan and Getsu were already their own beings. Their own people. Back when I was whole, when I wasn’t split, I wasn’t as... well, split as I am now.”

“I was wondering about that. The way you looked was like you’d just taken parts of Zan and Getsu and then made yourself. Which, considering the circumstances, isn’t exactly wrong,” Ichigo observed. “But what happened to them?”

He sighed and made his way over to the seat placed across Ichigo. Up this close, the smell of coffee was even stronger. He didn’t know whether he liked it or not. Zan was okay with it, Getsu... liked it? The bitterness apparently wasn’t that big of a deal, not when it gave way to ‘as black and bitter as my heart’ jokes—stay focused Zangetsu.

“In the Inner World, Zan and Getsu were coming to the revelation that something was wrong about their existences before yer mother’s death. They, as themselves, did not exist. But I did. And so, being a part of me, they knew that they had to have existed in some way before I was split but they didn’t know how. And then they had fused together.” He traced a pattern on the wooden table, a swirl that circled down to a point. Twists and turns all to get to a single conclusion. How fitting. 

Continuing on. “As for me, I didn’t remember anything from them until I passed out and had time to rest. I remember their memories, as well as my own. I myself am my own person, not their minds existing in one body, but I gather that they exist somewhere in my subconscious to inform my actions.”

And wasn’t that a twist? Was what he was doing what Zangetsu would do, or what Zan and Getsu would do? He was himself, but was himself his own thoughts and actions and personalities, or was it now informed more by the two parts of himself that he had become? Before, Zangetsu was the one that influenced what Zan and Getsu did. Now, it almost felt the opposite.

“They aren’t like two voices inside of your head?”

A laugh startled straight out of him. “No, Ichigo, they don’t exist in my head like they do in your Inner World. My thoughts are my own, no peanut gallery in the background.”

Ichigo scowled up at him. “Lucky bastard.”

The atmosphere around them levied, making way for a more relaxed air that he was content to stay in. Ichigo shot him a smile and, despite the absolute fuck-shit that was Zan and Getsu’s relationship with emotions, he smiled back. There was a moment of silence, stolen in this serene mood between them, before Ichigo dropped back to seriousness.

“What’ll happen now that you’re fused?” Ichigo, for all he tried to hide it, looked concerned for the response that would answer his question. Unfortunately for Ichigo, he himself was not very happy with the answer he would have to give as well. 

“Either I split apart,” he said, “or I stay like this. Forever.”

Ichigo spluttered, “Forever?!”

“Yes. In fact, I would go further to presume that as I get more used to being Zangetsu and not Zan and Getsu, my physical appearance will resemble my original appearance.” At Ichigo’s deadpanned, blank look, he elaborated, “The longer I stay as myself, the more my features will merge together. My eyes will be green. My skin tone will be one color. My sclera will be one color. And, well...”

He paused. The words on the tip of his tongue, on all accounts, should be said. But he didn’t know if he wanted to say it. To confront such a terrifying reality... a reality that was possible, if he made a decision at some point in the future... it twisted at the insides of his guts. But when he looked up at Ichigo, sat at the edge of his seat and willing to listen to what he had to say, he knew he had to say it. No matter how much he didn’t want to.

“The longer I stay the way I am, fused as I am, it will likely stay permanent,” he finished. “That is why I said that I would stay like this forever. At some point in time, I will be like this forever.”

“You wouldn’t be able to split?”

“Considering the situation surrounding the event in which I did split, I would wager that something of that caliber would be required to split me apart again after I stay fused for a while,” he retorted, dry as can be.

At that Ichigo paled, obviously discomforted by the idea of going through an event on the same level of horrible as his mother’s death. He was not at all up for that notion either, which made staying fused like this even more terrifying in his mind.

“And what about now?” Ichigo continued. “Can you split right now?”

“I’d assume so. I’m myself but Zan and Getsu are still pretty, big?, in my existence right now. I don’t know how I’d go about it, but I’m sure that if I try hard enough I’ll be able to do it.”

“If you ‘try hard enough’?” Ichigo sounded as skeptical as he himself felt, but he couldn’t lay down and take the doubt that Ichigo shot him. He chalked it up to Getsu’s pride, and perhaps even Zan’s.

“That’s what ya do all the time, don’t ya? Can’t be gettin’ on my case for doin’ it as well,” he scoffed and wow , Getsu’s dialect really popped out right then didn’t it? Put that in the ‘I’m now technically two people’ column.

Of course, Ichigo took notice and shot him a smirk. Sensing a rather sharp turn away from their current conversation, Zangetsu continued, “I don’t know if I want to split or not.”

Ichigo stilled, and gave his response, “Do you want to stay fused?”

Well, wasn’t that the kicker? Did he, or did he not? To be, or not to be, that is the question. (Ichigo was such a nerd, holy shit.) Either he chose nonexistence, or he chose to exist forever. Even if he did stay fused until he felt there was no point of return, he’d still be faced with the decision he’d have to make. And what would he do then? What should he do? What did he want to do?

And... was it fair for Ichigo to go without Zan and Getsu who, while being the two parts of himself, he had known for longer than Zangetsu? Was it fair to Zan and Getsu to no longer exist, simply for his selfish desire to live the life he was supposed to live, that was stolen from him in a grievous event that happened years ago?

Was it fair for Zangetsu, to have to choose between his own existence and the existence of the people he had been split into as a result of a mother’s death for her son, to have to choose between his selfish desires and his selfless factoids?

He did want to exist. Didn’t he? Wasn’t he allowed to want to exist? That was what his instincts said, that was what his reason said. And yet, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be locked into an existence that he had lost so long ago. With his wants came the consequences, and he didn’t know if he was ready to confront it. And yet... and yet...

“Zangetsu?”

The thoughts in his mind shattered away at that one word. It was like earlier, as he was virtually crumpled in Ichigo’s lap, when he had asked who am i? and even now he still didn’t know the answer. He looked up to Ichigo, confronted with the same man who’d saved the world multiple times in his life, and was met with kind eyes and a determined frown.

He settled down into his seat, the strain in his shoulders melting away. Speaking to each other... yes, that was what he needed to do, wasn’t it? To talk about whatever it was that bothered them.

“Every single time I ask this, I feel like the answer gets more and more negative each time but I’ll ask it again: are you okay?” Each word enunciated against his skull in each beat of concern and care that Ichigo held, and he knew his answer.

“No.” He leaned forward onto the table, arms folded close to him. “I’m not okay.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Ichigo reached across the table and grabbed one of his hands. The warmth from the cup clung to the calloused palm that pressed against the back of his hand, or perhaps it was simply the warmth of Ichigo’s own hand. He focused on that warmth and gathered his thoughts together.

“I don’t know what I want, Ichigo. Do I want to exist? But that would mean Zan and Getsu would be no longer. Do I want to split? But that would mean that I would be no longer. And no matter if I stay like this until it becomes too much or if Zan and Getsu somehow fuse together again, I will be confronted with that choice once more.” 

He bowed his head, hoping to hide the sting of his eyes from Ichigo. A hand cupped his jaw and gently maneuvered it upwards. Through his blurred vision, he saw those kind eyes once more.

“Would it even be right for me to choose? My existence only spans the timeframe of 9 years and a few hours. I can’t choose Ichigo. I can’t decide what I want. How am I supposed to decide what I will be for the rest of my existence?”

The tears finally broke through the fragile hold they had against the surface of his eyes, slipping down his cheeks and falling to the table. Ichigo brushed away the tears on his cheeks but didn’t tell him to stop crying. He leaned into that hold and let his tears fall like the rain he hated so much. Twice now since he had come back to existence, he had cried in Ichigo’s hold.

He was a mess, wasn’t he?

“You don’t really have to choose right now, do you? I’m pretty sure the permanent effects of the fusion won’t make itself known until further down the line, so the decision making can wait,” Ichigo comforted. “If you don’t feel ready to make a choice, you can stay yourself for long enough until you can make a decision.”

“But what if I take too long to make a decision? What happens when I can’t decide?” The doubts fell from his mouth even as his mind tried to reason. His emotions were in too much turmoil for him to make a conclusion from his instincts. It all felt like too much.

“I dunno. Flip a coin?” Ichigo deadpanned, the twitch to his lips evident it was a joke. Despite the horrid timing, he smiled back. “But seriously, I’m sure you’ll be able to make a decision when the time comes.” 

“Do you really think so?”

“Well, yeah,” Ichigo cracked. “Zan and Getsu are pretty good at it, and you’re them so you’ll be able to do that as well. I mean, they had to have gotten it from you.”

Oh. He could not afford to waste this opportunity. “Yeah. They definitely didn’t get it from you.”

Ichigo scoffed and raised an eyebrow at him. “Does that mean you’re better now or...?”

He chuckled and pulled away from Ichigo, wiping away the tears from his face. Some still slipped through and his tongue was leaden from unease. But the talk did help to alleviate the stress in his heart. And although he still felt muddled and uncertain as to what the correct decision was, or even what it was that he wanted, he knew what his decision was.

Besides, he was tired of talking himself in a circle. Leaving this up to Zan and Getsu... that felt like a much more solid choice to him. If he couldn’t make a choice himself, he’d leave it up to the himself that existed in the two of them.

“I’ve made my decision,” he proclaimed, “I’m going to split apart, and leave the rest up to Zan and Getsu. This choice... it isn’t just mine to make, isn’t it? It’s not just what I want that matters when it comes to this. If they choose to let me exist once again, or to leave me in the darkness where I’ve been for years now, then that will be their choice.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Ichigo sighed in relief, took his coffee cup in hand, and downed the entire thing. And maybe he should’ve been more concerned about Ichigo’s state of mind, but he instead laughed. He was sure that, despite how Ichigo looked, the rain had finally started to let up. Ichigo’s smile, genuine and small, told him as much.

“Now all that’s left is for you to unfuse, huh?” Ichigo paused, as if struck with a sudden thought. “You still don’t know how to unfuse, do you?”

“No clue. I’ll figure it out. Although I do have a feeling that it might not be the most pleasant deal I’ll have to go through, and I have no idea what Zan and Getsu are gonna be like when I do,” he sighed.

“You can take my bed, if you’d like.” Ichigo rose from his chair and offered his hand to him, empty coffee cup left on the table. “I don’t think I’m gonna be using it anytime soon.”

He took Ichigo’s hand but spoke up about his uncertainty, “Ichigo, I feel as though I’ve spent enough time here. Today was your day to spend in regards to your mother’s death, not to deal with this whole issue.”

“You do realize that the reason I manifested you in the first place was so that I could talk with you?” Ichigo teased, in a good-natured way, “I mean, I would’ve appreciated it if you took my mind off my mom’s death in some other way, but this worked out too. Besides, I feel better now.”

With that last remark, Ichigo tugged him back to the bedroom. The bed was still messy from when he had thrown off the covers and walked out without a second thought, the windows dark in the dead of night. They managed to maneuver their way toward the bed even in the darkness, but before he laid down, he stood by Ichigo’s side for a moment.

Hands still clasped with each other, he wrapped his other arm around Ichigo’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. In the memories he saw of Zan and Getsu, he knew that the two ran as hot as a heater and as cold as a corpse respectively. He was sure that Ichigo was the normal temperature for a human, but in the embrace between them, he felt warm to his very soul.

“I’m glad I got to see you again, Ichigo.”

“I’m glad I got to meet you, Zangetsu.”

They pulled away from the hug and he peered down at Ichigo, the man he’d last seen as a boy, and felt grateful to see him at least one last time. If he’d ever see Ichigo ever again... well...

“Say hi to Zan and Getsu for me, will ya?”

Ichigo responded with a smirk, “I hope I’ll see you again.”

“Me too.”

He laid down into the bed and pulled the covers over his body, hand finally leaving Ichigo’s. With that last goodbye to Ichigo, he closed his eyes and let the darkness wash over him. He was glad, at least, that this time he would be the one to choose to leave rather than be taken away by a storm of rain and despair.

Zangetsu...

Zan... and Getsu...

Even when split apart, they’d always be together.

That, he was sure of.

Chapter Text

Getsu woke up very, very warm. And despite the fact that his eyes were closed, it was bright behind his eyelids, which was why he didn’t open his eyes. That was definitely the reason, and definitely had nothing to do with the fact that he could hear a steady heartbeat beneath his ear and the ‘bed’ he was laying on was as warm as a furnace. Definitely not.

The ‘bed’ beneath him shifted the tiniest bit but didn’t push him off. Rather, the arm curled around his back shifted him closer and a hand brushed through his hair. He most definitely did not purr in response. That would, in fact, be fucking weird, so he didn’t. Definitely not.

“Getsu, would it be too troublesome for you to simply enjoy the moment instead of denying yourself a moment of contentment?” the ‘bed’ asked. “It would help with your attitude when it gets out of hand.”

“Shut the fuck up. And my attitude ain’t bad, you fuckhead.” The insult might have worked better if his words weren’t muffled against the ‘bed’s’ dress shirt.

“I know what you’re thinking, Getsu. I don’t appreciate being called a bed,” was the retort. “Your attitude isn’t bad , but it gets out of hand rather easily when you’re in denial or worked up. Just allow yourself to relax.”

“My ‘open’ meter ain’t big enough for this,” he grumbled.

“It’s a new day. It’s certainly renewed by now.”

It was quiet for a moment. He took solace in the rhythmic breathing and the warm hand carding through his hair, letting his mind float to the edge of unconsciousness. What wasn’t a relief, however, was the fact that his partner was currently thinking way too fuckin’ hard about what happened last night. Which, yeah, was pretty big but honestly. It wasn’t that big of a deal right?

As if reading his own thoughts, the hand in his hair stilled, buried in the strands and pressed against the back of his head. He huffed and finally cracked his eyes open to the daylight that streamed in through the curtains. They were still in Ichigo’s bed, covers pulled up to his shoulders and the sound of birds right outside the window.

He blinked his eyes open and looked up to the bed’s other occupant. Zan was already looking down at him, blue eyes wide awake and glasses placed on the bedside table. His dark hair was tousled after the nap they’d taken, clothes crumpled and cloak somewhere else. Based on the soft cloth he felt at the back of his neck where the bed covers didn’t reach, he gathered where it went.

Zan’s mouth didn’t quite quirk into a smile, but the contentment in his eyes was clear enough. Yet even under the guise of relaxation and comfort that the sunny day and the warm bed gave, the concern in Zan’s soul was clear to him. And as much as he didn’t want to talk about it, he knew it was a talk they’d need to have.

“We never got to fight last night,” he started off, “which means that we’re definitely fighting once this shit is all over.”

There was silence for a moment before Zan spoke up. “May I ask your thoughts on the matter?”

“I think that we should stop talking and start fighting,” he immediately said.

“Humor me.”

“...” He sighed. “I remember everythin’ from last night. Fusing, the storm, the talk with Ichigo... Zangetsu. As a whole being, instead of being us.”

“Strange, isn’t it? That we existed long before, but not in the way that we do now.”

He lifted his hand, curled it into a fist, and aimed it directly at Zan’s face. It made a loud whap sound as it, unfortunately, connected with the pillow where Zan’s head used to be. Zan didn’t say a single word in response.

“Once ya start talkin’ about somethin’ that wasn’t already said or thought about yesterday, then I’ll start fuckin’ talking.” He scowled and dug his sharp nails into the bed. “I don’t got time for us to talk ourselves into a circle like Zangetsu did.”

Sure, there was probably more to be said now that they weren’t fused together, but he did not want to try and talk about it. That wasn’t his forte and it really wasn’t needed.

“...do you want to try and fuse again?” The hesitancy of the question made him want to punch Zan. For real this time.

“Right now? Fuck no. Sometime in the future? Maybe.” He thought back to last night and grimaced. “I’d rather not give ourselves a fucking crisis over making that choice though. Or rather, give Zangetsu a crisis.”

“There was much turmoil last night over such a thing. Now that we’re not fused as we were, I’d like to pose a question to you.”

Before Zan could actually ask him the question, he lifted himself and nudged Zan closer to one edge of the bed. When he had moved enough, Getsu laid down on the emptier side of the bed and laid on his side, wrapping Zan’s cloak around himself. Zan shifted his body so they faced each other as they talked.

“Give as sufficient an answer as you feel necessary.” Zan closed his eyes as he asked, “Would you rather Zangetsu stay split, or stay fused?”

“...I like bein’ myself. I like bein’ Getsu. But...” He looked down at his hand, the image of another hand that wasn’t his but also was overtop of it. “I liked bein’ Zangetsu too.”

“I concur,” Zan intoned. “Although it was a mix of emotions, most of it being stress and panic, I have to say that being Zangetsu was... well, I don’t suppose there’s a word I have that would properly describe the experience of last night.”

He closed his eyes and thought back to that time. The panic and the stress and all those shitty feelings were at the forefront of almost every moment Zangetsu was awake, but deeper than that was the contentment he still felt to be fused. He was Getsu, he knew that, but he was also Zangetsu, both in name and the one being that existed.

Maybe if the situation weren’t so fucked over when they had fused, being Zangetsu gone better than it did. But he couldn’t say he regretted what happened. Maybe one day they would fuse together again, to be Zangetsu as in the way they should have been. He looked at the quiet, focused expression on Zan’s face and knew that he was also thinking back to that time.

“Stayin’ split or stayin’ fused... I think one day, we’ll stay fused. Forever.” Zan opened his eyes and pinned him under an unreadable stare. He continued, “Not right now. I don’t think I want that right now. But we could try to be Zangetsu again. Have some fun beating the shit out of some people.”

“An interesting way to have fun, but I expected nothing less from you.” He gave Zan a smile full of teeth. “As long as you do not want to stay as Zangetsu until the end of our existence, we will stay as Zan and Getsu. And if you feel you want to do so, then we shall be Zangetsu, even if that time may never come.”

“Really? You’d really be okay with that?” It felt unnecessary to ask. He already knew what Zan’s answer was, but...

“I am perfectly fine with whatever you choose to do, Getsu. Whatever it is you want, I will follow along as long as I find no issue with what it is.” Zan placed a hand between them, palm up and open. “If you are willing to remind me of your forgiveness, I am as willing to remind you that I care for your wants.”

“Fuckin’ sap,” he scoffed. He took the open hand in his own and squeezed, the skin warm and calloused against his own. Was he hypocritic? Abso-fucking-lutely. 

He closed his eyes and allowed the sound of birds and the whisper Zan’s quiet satisfaction to course through him. Now that they’d finished the conversation, there was no reason to stay in Ichigo’s bed. But he never passed up an opportunity to steal all of Zan’s warmth and this certainly wasn’t an exception. He’d leave the bed when Zan decided he’d had enough.

That moment, of course, felt like it came too soon. Zan took his hand back and tugged at the cloak he had wrapped around himself, not hard enough to pull it off but enough to make his message clear. He grumbled out a few curses but took the cloak off and held it out to him. Once he knew Zan had left the bed, he opened his eyes and rolled off the bed.

The impact of his back onto the floor didn’t phase him in the slightest. He pushed himself to his feet and walked out through the door Zan had left open, making his way to the living room. Zan himself stood in front of the couch, his appearance back to peak perfection as always, his arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Should we wake him?” Zan asked. He looked over the back of the couch to Ichigo sprawled out across the cushions, clothes wrinkled and deep in sleep.

Without an ounce of care, he jumped over the couch back and planted his feet directly onto Ichigo’s gut. The responding shout and immediate jump to fight from Ichigo made him pleased to see. Zan, of course, looked as disappointed as Ichigo did when he had calmed down, but it was definitely worth it. He always had the best ideas.

“Getsu,” Ichigo growled, “what the hell was that for?”

He sneered at him. “Next time, don’t go drinking coffee at 4 in the morning.”

“You think jumping right on my stomach is gonna stop me from drinking coffee whenever I want to?!”

“If I do it enough times, then yeah,” he cackled. “‘course it’ll fuckin’ work.”

Zan spoke up, “Don’t be concerned, Ichigo. Violence is simply Getsu’s way of showing care—”

“Aaaand we’re done here.” Zan, instead of being miffed at the interruption, shot him a smug look.

Ichigo mumbled under his breath but got up from the couch and stretched out his back. He was definitely going to feel a bruise on his stomach if the way he winced was any sign. Getsu smirked at the irritated side-eye Ichigo gave him. Then Ichigo paused, as if surprised the brain cells in his mind started working.

“Wait.” Ichigo looked between the two of them. “You know I drank coffee. Does that mean...?”

“We remember what happened last night,” Zan said.

“Yeah. And—” He held a hand up before Ichigo could say a word. “—don’t ask any dumb, stupid questions. Got it?”

Ichigo scowled at him but asked anyway, “So, did you make a decision? About whatever it was Zangetsu was worked up about last night?”

“Yep.” He met eyes with Zan before he looked at Ichigo. “We’re gonna fuse again, one day. And we’re gonna split. But one day, well... when we fuse, it might be forever. It all depends.”

“Will you tell me when that day comes?”

He sent Ichigo the most unimpressed look he could. “Ichigo, you’d have to be even dumber than you are now to not notice us staying fused for longer than usual.”

“Wha- I am not dumb!” Ichigo spluttered.

“What’s that? ‘I’m the stupidest motherfucker to exist in the entire universe’? I never thought you’d be so self-aware,” he taunted. “Zangetsu must’ve changed your whole world view.”

Oh, Ichigo’s face was so red. Zan was fun to mess with, but he didn’t give as great of reactions as Ichigo did. Although, that kick last night? That was satisfying as fuck. Even if Zan wasn’t truly irritated when he did it, that kick would’ve put him through a skyscraper, and then they would be obligated to start a fight which was even fucking better.

Speaking of a fight...

“I believe it is time for us to take our leave,” Zan cut in, the tone of his voice barring no objections.

Would it be childish of him to whine or start a fight anyway? It definitely would be. Did he care that it was childish? Well...

Before he was able to do anything, Zan grabbed onto his shoulder. The grip definitely sent across the message of ‘don’t you dare’. Unfortunately, Ichigo’s face wasn’t as red as before and he looked less willing to get into a fight than Getsu was. Damnit.

“Thank you for last night. Even if it wasn’t you two like right now, Zangetsu... well, I finally got to meet a part of me that I never knew existed.” Ichigo gave them a soft smile which- ew. “And I look forward to seeing Zangetsu again.”

“He will be glad to see you as well.”

With that, the two of them went back to the Inner World. He blinked his eyes from the direct sunlight that hit him, looking up to a clear, sunny day. No rainy clouds, the perfect weather, a slight breeze to the wind. It was the picture-perfect happiness he was used to.

It was a bit of a letdown. If it was raining, then he’d actually have a reason to fist-fight Ichigo. Now he didn’t have anything.

“Don’t be so down, Getsu.” Zan let go of his shoulder and looked up to the sky. “There is no rain now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it you hate the rain and love the sun. Considering how you dress, you certainly don’t look like you would,” he mumbled.

He dodged the fist that came at him and pulled his lips into a sharp smile. “You want a fight, do ya?”

“I believe I do owe you one,” Zan responded, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Besides, a fight would do the both of us good, wouldn’t it?”

The fight hadn’t started yet, but he could taste the blood and violence on his tongue as his body mounted with adrenaline. He wondered how fighting as Zangetsu would work out, to be as close together as they possibly could. But there was one thing he did know.

Here and now, as Zan and Getsu, they were able to fight one another.

And that was something he’d always look forward to.