Chapter Text
Soul Society
The landscape was rubble. Once grand buildings of both Sereitei and Wandenreich were nothing more but destroyed rubble underfoot. Peppering the landscape were the black cloaked members of the 13 Court Guard Courts, their swords clutched tightly in their hands. In tandem were the white and blue uniforms that were stained with blood of both allies and enemies alike, the soldiers of the Quincy lying dead and forgotten by their king. To state that the landscape was a massacre would be a disservice to the death both Shinigami and Quincy have inflicted upon one another.
And at the climax of this blood shed, by the cruel machinations of fate, was Ichigo Kurosaki. The seventeen year old stood tall against his near eldritch adversary, his black shukakkusho torn and ripped, his muscular frame coated in his own blood. His Bankai held firmly in his hands, coated by the same ceramic material that he couldn't help but feel similar to the mask that used to adorn his face. However, his face was bare and exposed, showcasing his frown on his face as he stared down the Emperor of Quincy. Brown eyes furrowed in determination, he would brush locks of his orange hair aside to stare down the man who would threaten his friends, family, and the world.
"Yhwach!" The teenager roared, his grip on his blade going from one hand to two.
The man would turn, his form less of the royal and elder form of the king of Quincy and more of a monster from Lovecraft. The only remnants of the man was the manic smile and his mustache, his skin poking out from the sea of black that covered his body. Glowing golden eyes would flicker and stare outwards at the young man, as the new Soul King would hold his hand outwards. Yhwach gave no reply, crouching down as he prepared to launch himself at the young man and tear down the traitor to his race.
A young man who would cut the very heavens to save his friends, against an ancient god-being who wished to dictate the fate of the world, and those very friends Ichigo sought to protect. A clash that would, if left uninterrupted, would be written in history or forgotten by it.
If left uninterrupted.
There was a third combatant in this scenario, one who had been lying in wait to land a disorienting blow against Yhwach. The quiet, black haired man with the white button-up and black slacks would launch himself from the rubble. His viper smile touching his face, holding aloft his sword as he would thrust towards the Quincy. The bookmark would flutter from the hilt of his sword, as Tsukishima would interject with his Book of the End to this equation.
Ichigo would swing back his sword, as his spiritual pressure would begin to rise. The golden Aura of his energy coalesced and compressed, as Ichigo would swing his blade.
"GETSUGA-"
Yhwach would close the gap, his hand outstretched as the black shroud would obey their god's command.
Tsukishima, his blade flashing forward, trying to help the Shinigami turned ally, an all out attack to save the future.
The power to break fate. The power to ensure it. And the power to manipulate the past. The collection of these three various powers and abilities of the triage of characters at this moment would mix and twist reality. A brief moment of reality audibly cracking, as space and time would fluctuate and bend.
Before everything was gone in a flash of white.
???
Ichigo Kurosaki would wake with a start and a blistering headache. His vision was blurry, as he tried to blink the sleep away as he sat up.
Ugh what the hell… why am I in… is this a bed?
His eyes would shoot wide awake, as his hand went to his back to grab at his sword.
"Wait I was in the middle of a-!?"
The teen would be grabbing at open air, his hands brushing against the collar of a shirt that he was not wearing before. He would pause, fully awake as he stared down at himself. He wasn't wearing his shukakkusho of his Bankai, nor was he covered with enough bandages to make a mummy blush. No, he was just wearing a basic red t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. Staring past his clothes, he would see that the blanket he was covered with wasn't one he was unfamiliar with.
It was his blanket. The blue sheet with the white cross (which now sat as a sour irony on his tongue, heritage considered), the window bordering his bed. He was in his room. He would kick the sheets off the bed and stand up, stumbling a bit and frowning. He felt… a bit shorter? Not by much, only by a few inches, but he could feel his body was different. Not poisoned or manipulated or hurt, just… weaker? Not as toned as he was used to. It didn't escape his mind that it was his human body and not his spiritual one.
Actually, for that fact, he couldn't feel any spiritual energy or pressure. No flicker of his friends and family, assuming this was Kurakara town proper, no flicker of the rogue hollows before they died. Hell, he didn't even feel his own spiritual pressure and energy. For a brief moment, fear clasped at his heart. The feeling of powerlessness, of not being able to save his friends and family, and whatever caused this, it felt like he was drowning. But before the depression could take a firm hold of his sensations, he would catch the calender on his desk… and frown.
29th of May, 2003.
"No freaking way… that's the same day-"
"IIIIIIIIIII-CHIIIIIIIII-GOOOOOOOOOO-"
His door would bust open, as a figure would be flying towards him. Ichigo would grab at the man's face, and roughly slam him to the ground. The close cut beard that was more stubble than beard, the spiked up and styled black hair, the stupid smile of pain and the pharmacist get up, only confirmed the assailant was none other than his dad, Isshin.
"YOU are so crueeeeel, doing this to your father!" The patriarch of the household whined, struggling under his son's grasp.
"Can it, geezer! What the hell, I thought you'd given up that shit?!"
"Whaddya mean Ichigo? Can't his old man love his son with displays of physical achieveme-"
In a fell swoop, Ichigo would push open his window with his leg, and angrily chuck his father out the window. His father would give out a "mournful" yell of curses about how Ichigo didn't love his old man and all the stuff he used to say…
And Ichigo Kurosaki would give a gaze to the street, where a glass vase was sitting on a pedestal, with a wilting white flower drinking in the water… and the ghostly visage of a young girl in pig tails and face covered in blood floating by it. The girl Ichigo would, later in the day, make thugs apologize to. The alley were, no doubt later this night-
Rukia Kuchiki would visit Ichigo Kurosaki and change his life forever.
And Ichigo would yell in defiance, in anger, and in confusion.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?"
Ichigo "Strawberry" Kurosaki
Age: 17 15
Hair: Orange
Eyes: Brown
Occupation: Soul Reaper Time Traveling High Schooler!?