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Chapter Text

The mask was odd. Bone white in color with asymmetrical red stripes going through it like a red hot scar. Most would see it and describe it as menacing.

Ichigo probably should be wary of it as well. Yet every time he held the mask, all Ichigo could feel was the subtle feeling of warmth and protection, like a weighted blanket had been lovingly draped on him. As if shielding him from the cold harshness of the present.

It reminded him of his mother’s embrace.

So Ichigo decided to keep it as a sort of good luck charm. Like an unorthodox reminder of his mother’s support that he hadn’t felt for quite some time.

Somewhere along the journey, Ichigo and his group ended up traversing the sewers. It was dark, damp, murky, smelly, and an overall a terrible experience that Ichigo wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. At some point, Ichigo unconsciously fidgeted with his mask to deal with some of his growing stress and apprehension.

“W-wha what is that thing??” Hanataro exclaimed. “I-it looks c-creepy-“

Ichigo glanced at Hanataro in slight confusion. Before realizing that he was referring to the mask he was currently holding.

“Oh this?” Ichigo gestured at the item. “It’s a mask that I found,” he said. “To be honest, not really sure where it came from. But hey, it looks pretty cool, might as well keep it for good luck.”

“A-are you sure?” Hanataro stammered nervously. “I-it looks like something that would b-bring the opposite instead..”

In all honesty, it does seem like it at first glance. And yet Ichigo can’t help but feel safe when he holds it, so it couldn’t be that bad, could it? Why was Hanataro so scared?

Suddenly, Hanataro went and grabbed the mask. Ichigo, slightly startled by the sudden action, kept holding on to it tightly.

“W-we should probably, no definitely , t-throw it away. B-before it c-curses us all or- or something.

Ichigo’s immediate impulse was to turn that suggestion the fuck down. Yet, Hanataro was genuinely terrified of the thing, and Ichigo did kinda get him involved in this whole mess without his consent. The least he could do was to make him feel comfortable right? No matter his sentiments, an empty mask was less important than his allies feelings.

“Alright- alright jeez, I’ll throw it away. No need to get your pants in a twist over it.”

For some reason, when he threw the mask away, Ichigo felt completely heartbroken. As if scared that a part of him were thrown away alongside it.

Briefly, Ichigo thought that maybe projecting his trauma and repressed emotions into a material object probably wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world.

“Your opponent, shall be yourself.”

Those were his zanpaktou’s words. He would have to fight his own, weird, oddly white reflection of himself.

In all honesty, Ichigo didn’t feel all that threatened by his own twisted doppelgänger. 

Motivated to kick his ass? Definitely. 

Actually being afraid of it hurting him? Not really.

It was irrational. By all accounts this thing was his enemy, and that should’ve been all there was to it. Swinging the cleaver like a mad man and the sadistic yet brutally effective sword style it used. Its very actions screamed villainy.

But somehow, Ichigo felt something more from it. An unexplained bond that chained him to the insane thing.

He didn’t get it until his blade crossed with his white counterpart. Only when they clashed and it’s feelings tangled with his did Ichigo understand.

It- no, He felt like his mask. A need to protect so strong that Ichigo knew no matter how bad things get, the pale clone will never truly hurt Ichigo.

In the end, the fight enlightened him to many things. His lack of knowledge in wielding Zangetsu. His lack of an actual relationship with his zanpaktou.

And his first meeting with the odd white spirit that also resided in his mind.

Wonder if he could ever enter his inner world without being in mortal peril. It would be nice to be able to know the both of them outside of times of crisis.

“Well now, seems like our little king has more of a brain than I thought.” The inner hollow sneered.

He glanced at the black clad imposter that took his name. “Looks like kingy is feeling a subconscious bond with me. Might want to watch your lie there old man.”

The hollow gave a twisted smile. “He might figure out your true nature faster than you think.” 

As the hollow faded away, he laughed. “He’s strong Zangetsu-san! Train him well, and stop holding him back for fucks sake.”

“Because one day, my power shall be his. And his power’s, mine.”

Old man Zangetsu could do nothing but glare at the fading spirit.

The old man sighed, all he wanted was to protect Ichigo. Suppressed his hollow and his powers in hopes of somehow, someway protecting him from Yhwach’s inevitable wrath. 

Was this not the right path to thread upon? It seems as if Ichigo was already on the verge of understanding himself beyond what he had told his wielder. What should he do?

The splintered soul of an all seeing man found himself lost and unsure of the coming future.

He glances at the twisted, sideways world that surrounded him.

It wasn’t raining, yet Old man Zangetsu still felt drenched either way. Melancholy and doubts seeping into his very being.

Oh, how he hated the rain.

-

The mask came back, shielded and protected him from a blow that would’ve otherwise been fatal. 

He stared at it, barely noticing Yoruichi speaking to him. And so didn’t tell Yoruichi on how he had chucked that thing in the sewers before this.

But the sudden reappearance of the mask and the introduction of the other person that was in his inner world. His skin the same shade of white as the enigmatic item…

Ichigo doubts it was just a coincidence. The mask and the doppelgänger were interlinked, and he’s itching to understand why.

Plucking the mask back from a slightly wary Yoruichi, Ichigo asked her, “Say, is there a way to enter your inner world consciously?”

Yoruichi blinked in confusion at the question that seemes to have come out of nowhere. “There is,” she replied. “It’s called jinzen. I’m sure Kisuke would be happy to teach you how to do it after all this is over.”

Ichigo hummed at Yoruichi’s answer. Something else to wrangle out of hat-and-clogs once he gets back home.

As Ichigo fell asleep, he missed the worried look that Yoruichi gave him.

Chapter Text

At some point during his bankai training Ichigo asked Zangetsu about the other pale spirit that was absent.

“Shouldn’t he be here as well?” Ichigo asked through panted breaths. A short break from his continuous grueling duel with his zanpaktou. “He was pretty helpful last time around.”

His sword spirit seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Though he is a part of your soul.” Zangetsu said, confirming that, indeed, the white clone was another aspect of Ichigo. “His powers does not have anything to do with the bankai you are currently training for. As such, his presence shall be a liability at best.”

‘Bankai you’re currently training for?’ Makes it sound like there could potentially be more. Were there other stages of bankai Ichigo wasn’t aware of or something?

He shuffled that musing into a long- long list of ‘Shit he was gonna squeeze out of Kisuke once this is all over and done with’.

Probably another common shinigami knowledge that his mentors ‘forgot’ to tell him about.

Theoretically, Ichigo could’ve asked Zangetsu right then and there for clarification. But his lovely black-clad spirit went straight to trying to kill him again before he was able to say anything else.

Well, back to training it was then.

(When Ichigo finally obtained bankai, the look on Old Man Zangetsu’s face was one of pure pride and joy. And for a moment all his doubts were washed away by his awe for his wielder.)

Maybe- just maybe- Ichigo should’ve immediately taken down Byakuya whilst he still had the element of surprise. Because now Ichigo was starting to get his ass handed to him and he could confidently say that it was 80% his own fault for wanting to flaunt a bit.

Because of course his bankai, which he already trained relentlessly for, was still too strong and too new for Ichigo to use for long periods of time.

Guess that’s what he got for speed running something that took most shinigami literal decades to achieve.

He was slowing down, he knew it. Ichigo was loosing speed whilst Byakuya kept his own steady. A testament to the difference in stamina and experience between the two. A chasm that even sheer raw power had difficulty in bridging.

“Is something the matter? You’re movements have become sluggish, Kurosaki Ichigo.”

But like fucking hell he was gonna give this smug, asshole excuse of an older brother the satisfaction of his defeat.

“Really?” Ichigo asked. All bravado and cockiness that was being held together by a string. “From my point of view, your sword’s still slow. Like it’s not moving at all!”

A sword through his feet and a byakurai through his shoulder cracked his facade down to dust.

He’s going to die here, Ichigo realized, if he just stood there. Everything he fought for would’ve been for nothing. Rukia would die, his friends stranded, and Byakuya would get away scot-free.

Nothing would’ve changed.

Nothing

move

Move

MOVE

HURRY UP AND MOVE DAMMIT

What’s the fucking point of just surviving, just living an inch from his own demise? If he wanted anything to change, he had to win.

He had to win. He wanted to win.

“Jeez king, told ya that if you died, I’d suffer too.”

It was that warmth again. That protective feeling that bordered on possessive at times. The same feeling that Ichigo felt from his mask and his white counterpart.

In his tired and battered state, Ichigo wanted nothing more than to fall into the embrace. Let them wrap him up and drag him into the comforting darkness where he wouldn’t be able to feel pain anymore.

He was so- so close to giving in, when suddenly Ichigo felt vague sensations of movement coursing through his body.

But, Ichigo wasn’t doing anything right now. So what’s going on?

It was at that moment Ichigo realized his body was moving on his own. Dancing and weaving deadly attacks that were similar to a certain mysterious white spirit’s own style.

Was- was his weird pale doppelgänger possessing his fucking body? He could do that?

Wait, not important. What was important was that he was doing it without Ichigo’s permission.

Vaguely, Ichigo felt betrayed and violated.

Oh, when he finally learned how to do that jinzen thingy, he was going to enter his inner world and he’s gonna have words with his other spirit. Because protecting him was fine and all, but taking literal control over his body was crossing a line they’re gonna have to address.

“Go away,” Ichigo commanded as he regained control over his left arm and started ripping the mask the had begun to form over his face.

His pale alter ego was shocked at the sudden intrusion. Confusion and a feeling of betrayal that mirrored Ichigo’s own ran through him.

“The hell?” he exclaimed. “D-damn it, let go king! Don’t get in my way!”

“We’re gonna talk later about boundaries and shit you asshole,” Ichigo retorted, patience running thin yet feeling slightly guilty for his counterpart’s distress. “Now, don’t get in the way! Leave!”

“You’re the one getting in the way!” his counterpart screamed. “Just let me keep fighting and we’ll win! I’ll help you, I’ll protect you! Don’t you see?”

“Damn it- damn it! You idiot!”

Ichigo ripped off his mask and took back full control over his body. He’d have to deal with the body snatcher at a later date.

Right now, it was time for him to have another round with the black-haired haughty ass motherfucker.

Stupid, stubborn, impulsive, reckless, borderline masochistic excuse of a wielder.

Why? Why did he interfere? All Ichigo had to do was sit tight and let Zangetsu (him, not that quincy imposter) fight for him. He would’ve tore down Byakuya to shreds! It would’ve been glorious.

Why did his wielder interfere? Ichigo understood right? Understood that Zangetsu would never let anything harm his king.

Why did Ichigo reject him then? He was the true Zangetsu, Ichigo’s real zanpaktou. He should be fighting alongside his king! Not- not being shoved away like this.

Did his king not want him? But, Ichigo did say that they’d talk later. So he hadn’t thrown Zangetsu away completely, had he?

Zangetsu’s musings were cut off by Aizen slicing Ichigo in half.

Zangetsu froze, horror slowly bleeding into his face as he saw his wielder falling over, his blood painting the grassy plains red.

The glasses wearing mastermind was still yapping about limitations and hybrids or some other nonsense, but Zangetsu hardly cared. His wielder was gonna die if he didn’t do something.

Dammit old man. Didn’t he promise to at least try and keep king safe?

What should he do? Try and take over again? That wouldn’t work when Ichigo was currently paralyzed from the waist down. Couldn’t get him to a safer location if he tried. Besides, every second wasted trying to retreat could prove fatal to Ichigo.

Running out of time, Zangetsu had no choice but to tap into his powers born from years of repressed and sealed instincts.

He just hopped his king wouldn’t hate him more after all this.

Orihime was healing Ichigo when he noticed something didn’t match up

Ichigo’s wounds were a lot less fatal than she had been expecting.

It was still a gruesome injury, one that would probably cause Ichigo problems down the line if he weren’t healed, such serious injuries tend to mess with your body long term like that. 

However, some- no, most of the injuries seemed to have already scabbed over, sealing it shut. 

As if something had already caused his body to start regenerating.

That’s interesting, did Ichigo have healing powers as well now? If so that was pretty cool!

After he’s stable, maybe she’ll talk to him about it. They could even compare abilities!

Everything was going to be alright. It had to.

She continued to ignore the pang of paranoia and fear deep within her heart as she continued to heal her friend.

Chapter Text

When Ichigo woke up in the fourth’s medical bed, exhausted and feeling as if he were just hit by a speeding truck, he realized the mask he had been carrying around was gone.

So the mask that formed while he was fighting Byakuya was probably the same one then. Or at least a variety of it. Wonder if him ripping it off for the second time finally made it disappear completely.

“Is there no way to break that boundary? Is there no way to grow and surpass your innate limitations?”

“There is, but there is only one way.”

“A shinigami-hollow hybrid.”

Ichigo clenched his fist as he remembered Aizen’s words from before.

That white spirit of his, the one that tried to usurp his body. Could he have been a hollow?

Surely that wasn’t the case? How the hell did a hollow even end up inside Ichigo’s inner world?

Unless, during the shattered shaft…

But Ichigo succeeded in regaining his shinigami powers. So there should’ve been no hollow residue.

Besides, the mask, the white spirit, for most of the time they weren’t antagonistic at all. On the contrary, he’d probably saved Ichigo on a couple occasions. So what’s going on here? What’s going on with himself?

All that answered Ichigo was the stinging silence of the medical barracks. At that moment, Ichigo felt so- so cold.

Thankfully all of Ichigo’s friends ended up being alright. Chad and Orihime all reported that the shinigami had been treating then well, and that overall, their experience while recuperating had been decent.

“Uryū has been on a roll making clothes for us all!!” Orihime exclaimed when Ichigo had asked on Ishida’s whereabouts. “He’s really good too! They’re such cute designs!! He even made one for Rukia!”

Oh, now wasn’t that last tidbit interesting. Ichigo could probably tease Ishida about it in the future if he ever goes on another ‘shinagami are my mortal enemies’ spiel.

“I’m glad you’re okay Ichigo.” Chad said. “Your confrontation with Aizen had us worried.”

“It’s alright man,” Ichigo answered with a smirk. “As if I’d let that stupid megalomaniac kill me off. Besides, we still got that promise to protect each other remember? Can’t do that if I’m dead.”

Chad gave a nod of affirmation in response.

“By the way, Ichigo!” Orihime spoke up again. “You never told me you had your own healing powers! It was so cool!”

Ichigo froze at that statement. Healing powers? Ichigo’s didn’t-

“Uh what are you talking about Orihime? I don’t have any healing abilities.”

The resident healer blinked for a bit before explaining. “When Aizen just uh- injured you, and I was about to heal you. Some of your wounds were already regenerating. Kinda like a salamander regrowing their tails ya know, fixing yourself and all that.”

Ichigo blinked in slight confusion, last time he checked he didn’t have the capability to spontaneously stitch wounds back together.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be able to do anything like that? Are you sure about this Orihime?”

Orihime frowned, face scrunched up in concentration for a bit before replying. “I-I think I’m pretty sure? Could I have been imagining it? I-I really wanted you to be safe Ichigo, maybe that’s why I thought the wound was less fatal than it was.”

The group was silent a bit after the conversation. Not having anymore info on the subject, the trio started talking about other things regarding their stay in the sereitei.

Ichigo shoved any feeling of apprehension regarding Orihime’s statement down into the deepest pits of denial.

When it came time for Ichigo and his friends to return to the world of the living, Captain Ukitake gave him an odd, slightly ominous looking badge.

“This is a Substitute Shinigami Badge,” Ukitake explained with a friendly smile. 

“Soul society has rules for substitute shinigamis.  If one appears and we acknowledge them as being beneficial towards soul society, then it is tradition for this badge to be given to them.”

Considering the fact that just a scant few days ago the entirety of the sereirtei were trying to kill them, Ichigo found that explanation slightly suspicious. But Ukitake was one of the captains that ended up helping them in the end, so maybe there was some validity to his statement.

Ichigo moved took the badge from Ukitake. However, once he had taken it, an ear splitting shriek rand through his ear.

“How dare he. How dare he! King don’t take the badge! It’s-“

“Quite now, denying the captain’s request  will only arouse more concern-“

“Kurosaki, are you alright? Do you need to spend more time in the fourth?”

Ichigo opened the eyes he hadn’t realized he’d shut tight to see everyone looking at him with varying degrees of worry.

“Ah, no, it’s alright Ukitake, sir. It’s probably just some leftover migraine. I’ll sleep it of once I get back home.”

Ukitake’s eyes narrowed slightly before conceding to Ichigo’s explanation and bidding the former ryokas farewell.

And if Ichigo noticed the odd looks his friends gave him while on the carpet ride to their respective residences, then that was neither here nor there.

“What the fucking hell old man? That thing was a damn tracker. Why’d you let king take it?”

“And what will rejecting the badge do? It will only cause the captain to be even more wary around Ichigo. Sometimes, the best strategy to an obvious trap is to feign ignorance.”

Zangetsu growled in frustration at the quincy spirit. “Yeah? And letting the stupid assholes in soul society monitor king is somehow safer? You trust the people who tried to execute that Kuchiki midget for doing her job?”

“Indeed it is a gamble,” the old man admitted. “However, considering that the badge was given by Captain Ukitake, I’m assuming that he, or at least his division, will be in charge of monitoring Ichigo. And considering he’s Rukia’s captain, who cares a great deal for her and tried to protect her. It’s possible that he would return the same courtesy towards Ichigo.”

Zangetsu scoffed, “So we’re hoping the ‘sweet captain’ is gonna protect king from the goodness of his heart?” He glared at the old man. “And I thought quincies were more distrustful to shinigami.”

“Watch your tongue hollow,” the quincy spirit snapped. “Keep your petty assertions to yourself.”

“You’re mad at me? ME? I’m king’s real zanpaktou! You’re the one who stole MY NAME for your own purposes. And yet you’re the angry one?”

“Your impulsiveness and recklessness would have done the opposite of protecting Ichigo,” the old man argued. “Need I remind you what happened during his fight with Byakuya?”

“That’s because you deliberately gutted king’s powers out of fear and made him weak! If you stopped holding him back he would’ve bodied that bastard to the ground! And I wouldn’t have to interfere!”

The two spirits glared at one another, neither willing to budge on the subject. Neither willing to admit that the other may have a point. Any signs of cooperation they showed during the soul society invasion ground to a shrieking halt.

Moments later, the world tilted sideways was enveloped in a drizzling rain.

“So, Yoruichi! How did our young heroes fare in soul society?”

Yoruichi (in her cat form) sipped on the milk that Kisuke had prepared for her. “Considering how green behind the ears all of them were, they held up quite well against the gotei 13’s ranks.”

She paused slightly before continuing, “Though how much of that is success was also due to the decline in quality of the shinigami themselves is unclear.”

Kisuke hummed behind his fan. Truly, the downturn of capable soldiers in the soul society due to Aizen’s machinations was a morbidly fascinating thing to witness.

“And how of our little berry? I hear he made quick work on some of the gotei 13’s upper echelons.”

Yoruichi furrowed her brows.

“The kid’s downright terrifying,” Yoruichi stated simply. “He progresses at a rate that should be impossible for any normal shinigami to achieve, picking up skills that take most years in the academy to barely understand.”

“Though there was something odd that happened before his bankai training,” Yoruichi continued. “I found remnants of a hollow mask on his person, most likely from his time in the shattered shaft.”

“He kept that thing?” Kisuke blinked in confusion. How odd, he didn’t remember Kurosaki picking it up after shoving it off his face.

“Seems like it,” Yoruichi answered. “He was quite attached to the thing as well. He immediately took it back after I showed him how it saved his life.”

“He also asked me whether there was a way to access his inner world deliberately after that,” Yoruichi replied, finally getting into the crux of the matter.

“The mask and his actions lead me to believe that his inner hollow has begun awakening. The question is, why does Ichigo seem so casual about it?”

“Kurosaki’s eagerness to enter the inner world also suggests he wishes to see his hollow again,” Kisuke muses. “There is a chance he just wants to visit his zanpaktou in the future, but context leads me to believe otherwise. Now, why would Kurosaki try and risk another meeting with it?”

Silence followed Kisuke’s question. “So what do we do then?” Yoruichi asked

Kisuke shifted his hat to cover his eyes.

“What else? It’s time to call in the visored.”

Chapter Text

Yuzu’s worried

Ichigo has been acting odd since the holidays. Sometimes, when he thought no one was looking. He would just- stare off into the distance with a haunted look in his eyes.

Her brother, her kind and impulsive brother, was spending so much more time lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes, in his own self-imposed silence, a flash of guilt would flitter across his face.

Ichigo was acting as if it were mom’s anniversary again. Where he would draw into himself and bear all his emotions on his own.

Yuzu hated seeing her brother like that. Hated seeing Ichigo try and put on a brave face when something was clearly bothering him.

What happened to make him like this? He was just fine a few days ago. 

Karin’s worried as well. But she’s so much like Ichigo when it comes to acknowledging her feelings. And by that, it means that she would shove down any emotional baggage and put on a mask of indifference.

Still, no mask can hide Karin’s troubled glances at big brother. Yuzu knew her twin enough that her concern was probably several times worse than what Karin’s showing.

“Is big brother ok dad?” Yuzu asked her father one night. When her anxiety finally peaked and she just needed a semblance of reassurance over her brother’s state.

“Of course, he is,” Isshin said. His normal dramatics were gone in favor of a more muted tone. “He’s just going through some changes, teenage things, that he’ll have to solve on his own. The best thing we can do right now is to support him however we can.”

As Yuzu finally fell asleep from her father's calming words. She missed the uncertain expression that was painted on dad’s face.

Tatsuki peered out of the school window. Once again looking at Ichigo’s retreating form.

She wondered how Ichigo managed to change out of the school uniform and into such an odd get-up so quickly. She also really wanted to know where Ichigo got that big fuck off sword from.

Tatsuki sighed, changing her attention from Ichigo to the rest of the members of his new friend group.

Ever since the holidays wrapped up and school returned. Uryū, Chad, Orihime, and Ichigo had somehow become inexplicably close friends. Whilst Ichigo and Chad aren’t a surprising duo, Orihime finally developing something more than a passing relationship with her crush was rather unexpected.

Uryū Ishida, number one student and one of the coldest person in the school joining their little merry band of oddities however, was so far from anyone’s imagination that she was sure half the class almost passed out from seeing the resident ice prince actually communicating and interacting with others. Much less with two known troublemakers and a hyper-imaginative girl.

In short, something drastic was happening here, and Tatsuki didn’t have a single clue about what it was.

That’s not the only thing that bothered Tatsuki though.

Orihime, Chad, and Uryū had been giving strange looks to Ichigo.

It’s odd, it feels like they were all worried for him. Worried that he would do… something.

Now, Tatsuki knew better than anyone else just exactly what an emotional train wreck Ichigo was. But he’s not some fragile porcelain figure that ran the risk of shattering into pieces if handled incorrectly. At least, not anymore.

Though she had to admit, Ichigo has been a lot more cagey these days. Even more so than before. But it’s not that bad. Especially compared to some of the episodes he had when he was younger.

Unless Ichigo had gotten that much better at hiding his feelings…

Fuck, when did their friendship become so strained? What the hell was going on around here?

Tatsuki looked back to the blackboard. She tried her hardest to concentrate back on the lesson.

Anything to distract her from her spiraling, unpleasant thoughts.

The Ishida family library was vast. Filled to the brim with literature and knowledge regarding many things. Ranging from medical texts, studies of various subjects, and catalogs of the various legends and historical events that happened throughout the years.

He also knew that there were at least some quincy texts archived somewhere. His grandfather mentioned it off-handedly a few times during Uryū’s training.

Uryū had little hope that his father hadn’t discarded them after his grandfather’s death. But he had to try, he owed his mentor at least that much.

He may not have any powers anymore. But that didn’t mean his kind’s history immediately lost all significance to him.

The confrontation with Mayuri only stoked the flames of Uryū’s curiosity. Now, he needed to know more about what exactly happened between the quincy and the shinigami all those years ago. And why it all ended in a bloody massacre. Maybe his grandfather was right, and all of it was just a matter of the balance of souls. But something in the back of Uryū’s head was telling him that there was more to it than that.

(And, if Uryū also stumbled upon the slightest possibility of getting his powers back whilst searching for information, then that was just a bonus to this whole endeavor.)

Uryū was halfway through perusing the library, halfway close to giving up, when his father suddenly stood in front of the entrance. The lights from the hallway shadowed his face.

“What are you doing Uryū?” Ryūken asked. He glared pointedly at the slight mess Uryū had made of the place.

“Nothing that concerns you, Ryūken,” Uryū said curtly. His father wouldn’t care anyway.

“I think it concerns me enough if this sudden interest in dusty tomes is the result of recent events,” he said, “involving a very reckless attempt to infiltrate the very afterlife itself.”

Uryū froze halfway from returning to his research. He looked back at his father in shock.

“How- how did you?”

“Did you think that I wouldn’t be keeping tabs on you? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not so inattentive to any potential dangers you put yourself in.”

Uryū held back a scream of frustration. His bastard father was always like this. Always dismissing him, always looking down on him, always acting as if he were nothing but an unruly child.

“If you have nothing else to say other than to gloat about your stalking habits, then please leave me alone,” Uryū growled in growing anger.

“Oh?” Ryūken asked. “Will you make me do so? You and what power?

Uryū stilled at that statement. 

That was it, that was the last straw.

“Get out.”

His absolute asshole of a demeaning father conceded, retreating to whatever mountain of work he had to return to. Before doing so, he finally said something that was actually useful.

“What you’re looking for is not here.”

“And then it turns out, the dead captain wasn’t dead! He was the mastermind of it all. It was something straight out of a period drama-“

Orihime’s excitement petered off as she remembered just how many victims Aizen’s betrayal had caused. “I just wish it weren’t real. So many people were hurt. And in the end, I don’t think I did much to help at all.”

Orihime knew his brother had moved on. She knew that talking to her brother’s shrine couldn’t have been more useless. Yet, Orihime couldn’t help it. For so long, she had talked to his brother about her daily activities and woes. Old coping habits die hard it seems.

“All I could do most of the time was heal. I barely got into any fights,” she said with downcast eyes. “I guess I did heal Ichigo, but he was already healing on his own.”

“I know you don’t like talking about Ichigo all that much,” Orihime said. “But I’m really worried about him.”

“He didn’t know where his healing powers came from. He’s been having more headaches recently, especially when he’s in shinigami mode. And he’s also been- not there recently. Like there’s something else in his mind that he has to deal with.”

Orihime fiddled her thumbs in unease. “I’m worried, but I also don’t want to push him too. The same goes for Uryū. I know he lost his powers. I know he needs someone to talk to as well. But I don’t know how.”

“What should I do?”

The drafty wind of her flat was all that answered her.

Ichigo stared at the roof of his room. Organizing his thoughts.

Despite what people may claim, Ichigo was an observant person in some capacity. If he bothered, he was able to read people pretty well.

Though to be fair, it wasn’t really hard to notice the concern directed at him from his friends and family. Which made Ichigo feel terrible for causing them so much grief.

All because he couldn’t deal with his own stupid problems.

The hollow was so close, his voice yammering about in the back of his consciousness. Ichigo can’t keep avoiding him forever. At some point, he was gonna have to confront his pale doppelganger.

Ichigo scratched his hair in frustration.

Fuck, when did his life get so complicated? It should’ve been a simple mission. Kick the stupid, ancient, denizens of the soul society in the ass. Rescue Rukia from her execution. Then, get the hell outta dodge.

Instead, they got roped into the unraveling of a centuries-old conspiracy. And now, he had awoken a possibly malicious entity in himself. 

Ichigo seriously didn’t sign up for any of this shit. Rukia probably didn’t predict that she would be signing him up to all this shit when she asked him to play shinigami and cover for her.

Alright, he had to stop that train of thought. He didn’t need to add the feeling of missing Rukia terribly onto the pile of emotions he had to sort out.

Goddamn that midget for worming her way into his heart so quickly. Soul society better be kissing the ground she walked on for all the bullshit they put her through.

Ichigo sat up on his bed and grabbed his substitute shinigami badge, fidgeting with it. 

Over the past few days mulling the events in soul society over, Ichigo realized he didn’t care much about what exactly the copy in his inner world was. The thing might be a hollow, an evil spirit, or whatever. But Ichigo didn’t give a fucking damn. He still saved Ichigo’s life a couple of times. And Ichigo wasn’t one to shrink on his debts.

However, there was still the fact that the white spirit was a hollow. Hollows by their nature consume souls to dull their never-ending pain. He couldn’t, in good conscience, simply trust the hollow to not harm the people he cared about.

It was a hollow that killed his mother. 

It was a hollow that attacked his family and started this whole mess. 

It was Sora, hollowfied, that attacked Orihime.

It was a hollow that trapped a young soul in a terrible game.

His hollow had possessed his body once before. Controlling his body and turning him into a deadly marionette. He couldn’t forgive himself if he allowed his twisted reflection to use him again like that.

If his inner hollow needed to consume other people to sustain himself, then Ichigo will stop him from ever laying a hand on those under Ichigo’s protection. He wasn’t going to let his white copy take over his body ever again, especially if he intended to hurt others.

Ichigo was done moping around. He was done running away from his troubles. He was sick of being a burden to the people who cared about him.

Retreat and you will age, hesitate and you will die.

He’ll visit Urahara tomorrow and ask him how to get into his inner world on his own. He had a certain someone wearing his own face to finally talk to.

The white noise of rain filled the skies of the tilted world. With its sprawling skyscrapers made of tinted glass reflecting the murky clouds.

It was a sight both denizens of the inner world were sadly accustomed to. As the horrible weather was a direct reflection of their wielder’s often somber emotional state.

The old man wrapped in shadows was perched on his usual pole, overlooking the lonely surroundings. His eyes scanned for anything amiss.

Suddenly, a pressure slammed down on him. Not enough to do actual damage, but enough to alert him about the arrival of the one who wields his (not his, never his, Zangetsu’s) power. 

“King’s back again,” the hollow that suddenly appeared beside him said. His face and tone were uncharacteristically serious for someone who was usually a violent trickster.

“Don’t interfere, old man,” he continued again, staring daggers at the quincy spirit. “This is between me and him.”

The black-clad man was quiet, before releasing a soft sigh. “Do not harm him, hollow.”

The inner hollow gave an angered glance at him for the moniker, “I ain’t gonna hold his hand and be all soft like you are. I’m gonna help him protect himself, without anyone interfering.”

The old man stared off into the distance. “And what of that isn’t enough? Progress doesn’t come in a day. The strength necessary for a life of endless battles even more so.”

The other spirit sneered. “Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t get hurt till he’s strong enough to be the king. Even if that means making him the horse for a while.”

He didn’t bother waiting for a reply before using sonido to approach the prone form of their master.

Ichigo opened his eyes to rain splattering across his face and his back against cold glass.

He looked at his surroundings only to realize that he was in his inner world again, the only difference from his previous visits was the pouring rain. Beating across his body in heavy, miserable, drops.

Well, it seemed that a visit to Urahara wasn’t necessary after all.

Ichigo got up and turned around, only to come face to face with his inner hollow. A cruel smirk plastered across his face.

“Welcome back, King. So, you figured me out, hm?”

He stuck his face close to Ichigo’s own. Boundaries be fucking damned.

“Tell me, King. Your instincts, what are they saying?”

The hollow’s smirk stretched into a maniacal grin. 

“Are you scared now?”

Chapter Text

The hollow smiled at him, utterly gleeful and unrepentant. His mouth curved upwards into something deranged, looking absolutely unnatural on a face so similar to Ichigo’s, and yet seemed uncomfortably fitting. As if Ichigo himself could also possess that same insanity if he truly wanted to.

So Ichigo did what any calm, rational, and totally not startled person would do in such a situation. He grabbed that bastard’s mug in a vicious grip before throwing him into a nearby building.

“What kind of entrance is that? Getting near me without any warning-” Ichigo shouted between short breaths. “You wanna know what my instincts are telling me? It’s telling me that you’re a goddamn creep!”

A growl accompanied by the sound of scraping metal ripped through the air. Ichigo was barely able to bring up his zanpaktou before a blade slammed right into it.

“Shit,” Ichigo muttered as his opponent yanked back the cleaver with its wrappings. His hollow promptly crawled out from the broken windows with a subdued, but ever present, grin.

“Now that’s not a very nice greeting either, King,” the white menace jeered. “Besides, we both know that’s not what I asked. Still in denial after all this time?”

The spirit suddenly appeared in front of Ichigo and swung his sword without restraint. Ichigo’s grip buckled as his blade met his hollow’s.

Unwilling to back down, Ichigo kneed the hollow in the stomach, causing him to stagger slightly. Ichigo used that moment of disorientation to push back his adversary’s sword and deliver a punishing slash to his side.

The hollow nimbly dodged Ichigo’s attack and slid backward. The strike didn’t connect, but that was fine. Ichigo just needed the other person to back off and stop trying to kill him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on others and disregard their personal space if you want a warmer welcome.” Ichigo huffed.

The hollow completely ignored Ichigo’s words and closed the gap once more. He stabbed his cleaver to the side and placed his right palm where Ichigo’s frantically beating heart should be.

“Stop stalling, King,” the spirit trilled. “Lemme ask you one more time-“

The hollow’s left hand cupped Ichigo’s face in a surprisingly gentle motion, tilting the teen’s head in a way that forced Ichigo to stare directly at his counterpart’s gold-on-black eyes.

“Are you scared of little old me? ”

Ichigo grabbed the pale man’s wrist and shoved it off him in an annoyed motion, eyes still locked onto the hollow before him with a determined gaze.

“So what if I am?” Ichigo shot back, swallowing down any lingering hesitation to get to the point. “Who wouldn’t be after that puppet act you pulled? But more than anything else, I just don’t get your fucking deal.”

The hollow’s smile widened, and a small flicker of hope flashed across his expression before settling into his usual madness.

“Oh yeah?” the spirit asked. “Whatever do ya mean by that?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Ichigo snarled. “You don’t make any sense. One minute you're doing tricks to save my ass, the next you’re possessing my body and running wild with it.”

Ichigo tightened his grip on his copy’s wrist. “Is that what you want? To keep my body all nice and in one piece so you can take over and cause a rampage?”

The hollow’s grin abruptly dropped as Ichigo continued with his inquiries. “Do you have an agenda or are you being genuine when you’re helping me? Are you going to use me to eat souls just like any other hollow?”

The atmosphere grew tense and heavy. An unsung melody of fury and confusion hung in the air, punctuated by the ever-steady drops of the rain.

“Tell me,“ Ichigo asked, desperation tinting his voice. “Who the fuck are you ?”

A painful silence stretched in the wake of Ichigo’s question. The rain grew into a torrential storm.

“Who am I ?” The hollow snapped. “ Who am I ?”

The white spirit pushed Ichigo into an adjacent rooftop. His features painted an emotion of devastating hurt and bottled-up pain. His inhuman eyes were alight with an indescribable misery and an achingly human loathing, one Ichigo had seen so many times before within his own mirror.

“I’m everything that you’ve repressed and pushed down throughout your life,” said the hollow as launched himself towards Ichigo, blades clashing once more. “I’m all the things that you hate about yourself!”

The spirit brought down his sword in a flurry of strikes.

“Your love for violence .”

Ichigo tried to knee him again, but this time his opponent caught the attack and used the momentum to fling Ichigo a few feet away and onto the floor

“Your thirst for retaliation .”

The hollow spun his cleaver around like it was a child’s toy, before using the added range from the hilt’s cloth to slice at Ichigo’s throat. The teen was forced to shunpo upwards to avoid the assault.

“Your hunger for absolute victory. ”

The doppelganger gathered his energy and shot a blast at Ichigo. Not enough to form a full getsuga, but enough to knock Ichigo on his ass if he hadn’t braced for the impact.

“I am your instinct that allows you to survive . To live through all those battles you keep getting involved with because of your stupid fucking hero complex.”

With a crackling sound, his hollow vanished from Ichigo’s view and appeared some distance away from him.

“I am your true power!” the hollow screamed as he shifted into a stance Ichigo recognized instantly.

It was Ichigo’s pre-bankai stance.

“ I AM ZANGETSU!”

A wave of reiatsu crushed down on Ichigo as his hollow accessed their bankai. Instinctively, Ichigo hurried to activate his own before things got messy.

“Ban- KAI!” Ichigo yelled, donning Tensa Zangetsu and readying himself.

Barely a second later, Ichigo noticed the hollow moving towards him. In response, Ichigo dashed head-on against the spirit, their swords singing as they met in the middle.

“What the hell are you on about?” shouted Ichigo. “And how can you use bankai? You weren’t there when I trained with the old man to get it.”

The hollow laughed incredulously at Ichigo’s expense. “Are you deaf? Or are ya just god. Damned. STUPID?” the pale figure gritted as he and Ichigo continued to exchange blows. 

“I’m a part of you, idiot” the spirit hissed. “You get stronger, I get stronger too.”

A possessive glee creeps into the hollow’s countenance. Deranged and joyful and oh so excruciatingly, unexplainably warm.

“We grow and evolve together, King.” 

Ichigo’s eyes widened as he flash-stepped away, launching a getsuga tenshou to stop the other person from pursuing him.

That tone… that chilling adoration that rolled off the hollow in waves after the spirit’s declaration.

… He’s felt it before.

He felt it when he was carrying around that mask in Soul Society.

He felt it during the fight with Byakuya, basking shamelessly in it for a while.

He felt it after he was cut down by Aizen, defeated and completely vulnerable.

Oh…

So that’s why he was never afraid of the hollow when he first met them.

How could he have forgotten that understanding he achieved when they sparred for the first time? How could he have allowed his fear and doubts to cloud his common sense?

Ichigo didn’t fully understand the other spirit yet. He didn’t get why the hollow was calling himself Zangetsu when the old man was his zanpaktou manifestation. But there is one thing Ichigo knew for certain.

Above all else, the White Spirit’s deepest desire was to protect Ichigo.

And Ichigo would be a damned fool if he didn’t notice that.

“Your goal.. it’s to protect me,” Ichigo stated breathlessly. “Isn’t it?”

The hollow froze at Ichigo’s epiphany, their entire body locked up in barely concealed disbelief. As if he never expected Ichigo to come to the proper conclusion so soon.

Well, Ichigo always had a habit of tearing through everyone’s expectations.

“You’re not like those other hollows. You’re different from the likes that killed Mom. That possession stunt, and the instant healing I know you pulled… Was it all just to save me?”

The hollow shrugged. “Gotta have some part of you that cares for yourself. Otherwise, you’d be dead in the ditch with all the self-sacrifice you do.”

His spirit looked down at the white weapon between his fingers. “I want you to be strong. I want you to reach your full potential so that no one will ever hurt you again. Everything else I do is for the sake of that goal”

Oh…

“ …Fucking hell.” Ichigo cursed as he lowered his blade. “I really am a dumbass.”

Ichigo Kurosaki was a protector. It’s in his name, his very purpose etched onto his soul from that dreaded day on the river banks.

It was his burden to shoulder. His duty to act upon. It was his job to protect others.

He never expected, nor experienced, being the one protected.

…No, that’s not true, is it?

His mother filled that void once. If there was anyone Ichigo would dub his protector, it would’ve been her.

And she died because of it. She died because he wasn’t enough, because he was too weak .

Now, someone else wished to protect him. Someone else was willing to fight for him and bleed for his sake

This emotion welling up in him, the fact that someone cared about him as fiercely as he cared about others…

“Oi- oi King.. What are you doing?”

Ichigo walked towards the pale piece of himself. Carefully, he grabbed the hollow sword by the blade.

And stabbed himself with it.

In that instant, the rain within his inner world dissipated. Ichigo’s tentative acceptance of the spirit before him reflected in the weather surrounding them. Somewhere, a small dash of sunlight could be seen through the still-cloudy sky.

“Next time,” Ichigo said with relief and happiness evident in his tone. “Tell me when you’re about to do weird shit with my body in case of an emergency. 

Ichigo looked into his partner’s still bewildered face and gave a small grin. “Half of this could’ve been avoided if you had just explained things to me.”

The smile that the hollow shot back at Ichigo’s words was one of pure maniacal joy.

“Maybe if you weren’t so pathetic I wouldn’t need to step in so much,” they cackled. “Call me again the next time you’re in your inner world. I’ll whip you up into shape. Don’t think that I’m gonna go soft just cause you finally got your head out of the sand.”

Ichigo’s vision grew blurry, a telltale sign that he was waking up in the real world.

“Will do, Shiro.”

“So you think Ichigo’s gonna try and get in contact with his hollow soon, assuming he hasn’t already?” Shinji asked, nonchalantly sipping his cup of tea. To an outsider, it might seem like the blonde wasn’t taking the matter seriously. However, a close look at his hardened eyes exposed just how concerned the visored truly was.

Shinji’s good at keeping up a mask, even in the face of potentially dire news. It's one of the many reasons Kisuke held such respect for his friend.

“Yoruichi and I strongly believe so.” Kisuke tilted his hat forward. “And between all of us, we know how dangerous an inner hollow can be.”

The former captain of the fifth scratched his chin in contemplation. “Lemme guess, you want me to start training the kid?”

Kisuke nodded, “I cannot, in good conscience, allow that kid to mess with his hollow unsupervised. He’ll need all the help he can get to control the  new… aspects of himself.”

“Are you sure our methods will work on the kid?” Shinji asked. “You never spilled the whole story, but the kid’s hollow wasn’t forced onto him like ours, was it?”

The shopkeeper hid his mouth behind his fan. “Well theoretically it should still be effective,” Kisuke piped up cheerfully. “Besides, even if things go haywire, I trust that you and your companions can handle the situation.”

Shinji leveled Kisuke an unimpressed glare, before sighing and leaning forward on the table.

“Fine, fine. I’ll mentor the brat,” Shinji grouched. “Honestly, the things I’m willing to put up for you.”

All the while, Kisuke continued to hide a smile that was drenched in an old and familiar guilt.

Zangetsu watched as his wielder faded away into a flurry of gold spark with a muted sense of happiness.

Feeling the approach of the other inhabitant of Ichigo’s soul, he whirled around to face the shadow-cloaked interloper.

“Hah, see? The King didn’t lock me away,” the white spirit gloated. His satisfaction depended at the troubled looks the quincy now sported.

He patted the old man on the shoulders as he passed by. “Parts of the cat’s outta the bag now. You can’t keep using King’s ignorance to suppress me. From now on I’m training him too, without needing your authority.”

The old man hummed noncommittally. “He still hasn’t acknowledged you as his true blade.”

Zangetsu’s hackles were raised at the quincy’s absolutely unneeded comment. “Yeah, and who’s fault is that ?”

The quincy spirit remained silent, stubbornly refusing to face Zangetsu. The pale spirit returned the gesture in kind, continuing to walk in the opposite direction.

“I’ll get to him eventually,” Zangetsu pledged. “He’ll see that I have so much more to offer him than your cowardice .”

He giggled maliciously at the quincy’s expense. “Who knows, maybe by the end of all this he’ll resent you enough for all the lies and throw you away instead.”

It was a cruel suggestion, and Zangetsu himself didn’t know if he truly meant it. Regardless, he was certainly furious enough about his current situation to not hesitate in throwing that taunt at the quincy.

“See ya later, Yhwach.”

Zangetsu chuckled at the way the quincy spirit fumed at that title. Stupid quincies and their stupid emperor, well at least it was an easy way to get under the imposter’s skin.

The sword spirit decided to forego his usual sonido, choosing to flash step from building to building while contemplating his wielder’s parting words.

It’s a shame that Ichigo still refused to call him by his true moniker. And yet, he had managed to piece things together so quickly. It made Zangetsu feel giddy, the fact that the old man’s schemes were being thwarted by their own wielder’s wits. Besides, that name Ichigo bestowed before he left…

“Jeez, King. You’re so uncreative at naming things,” the spirit mused in amusement.

Zangetsu supposed he didn’t mind being called Shiro, for now.