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Chapter Text

(Saturday the 21^st of October, 2006)

'Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!'

Ichigo froze mid-step through the doorway at the sudden greeting, his head snapping to where the voice had come from. The breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding at the scare escaping past his lips once he saw Kisuke standing in the corner of the store, facing the shelves.

'The fuck are you doing over there?' Ichigo asked, stepping over the threshold.

Kisuke threw him one of his signature smiles over his shoulder, angling his body so that Ichigo could catch a glimpse of what he was holding in his hands, a clipboard. 'My job, of course'.

With a healthy amount of scepticism (this was Urahara Kisuke, after all), Ichigo walked over to the man. One look at the paper on the clipboard was enough for Ichigo to understand what the man was doing. 'You're doing inventory'.

'I am indeed', Kisuke confirmed, turning back towards the shelves. 'I cannot sell candy that is past its expiration date to innocent children in good conscious now, can I?'

'I bet ya can and would sleep even better because of it', Ichigo said before he even realised he had spoken.

Kisuke put the hand in which he held his pen over his heart, giving Ichigo the most convincingly fake look of betrayal the adolescent had ever seen. 'Maa, Kurosaki-kun. Those hard words shatter my delicate heart. How can you condone your Zanpakutō to speak such slander?'

'It isn't slander if it's true', Ichigo dismissed as he eyed the "shopkeeper" carefully. 'Is Tessai keeping your coffee hostage of something?'

'Whatever makes you believe that, Kurosaki-kun? Is it that hard to believe I take my day job as a shopkeeper seriously?'

'Yes', Ichigo answered without missing a beat. 'Normally you delegate things like this to Ururu'.

Kisuke heaved a sigh, 'It is true that I generally leave the task of running the store to her but I can't do so with taking inventory'. He scribbled down some numbers. 'While she is very accurate, she is a rather slow worker. It would take her multiple days to do the whole store on her own. Jinta, on the other hand, is fast but doesn't bother to count half of the time. It is simply more efficient for me to do the counting myself'.

'What about the re-count?' Ichigo questioned. He had some experience with taking inventory; his sister and he helped Isshin on occasion whenever the man decided to take stock of his equipment. It was an important thing to do, deceptively difficult for something so simple, and oh-so mind-numbingly boring.

'Tessai will do that tomorrow'. Kisuke glanced at the adolescent, catching his surprise. 'Contrary to what you may believe, I do not think myself infallible'.

'You sure act like it, though', Ichigo said before adding, 'Zangetsu's words, not mine'.

'Let's just say I have learned to not let my confidence blind me to my faults', Kisuke said, clicking his pen. 'So, I take it you are here to spar again?'

'Yeah, are you done with those renovations yet?'

'Almost. I am still waiting on that last delivery of Seki-Seki so I can finish those reinforcements'.

'So, no bankai today?'

'No bankai', Kisuke confirmed. 'And try to not hit the back wall too much'.

Ichigo pursed his lips in disappointment. It had been a few weeks since he had last been able to release bankai and he was itching to let loose again, a sentiment he knew was shared by his Zanpakutō. Guess we will focus on dual-wielding again. 'We'll try'.

'Thank you'.

With a nod, Ichigo turned and began to walk towards the door in the back that would lead to the residential area of the building.

'Oh, Kurosaki-kun!'

Ichigo paused at the doorway, leaning back to look at Kisuke, 'Yeah?'

Kisuke held up his hand, shaking the packaging of an unspecified candy bar between his fingers. 'Want some?'

'That…depends—' Ichigo eyed him suspicion— 'What is it and how long has it been expired for?'

'Chocolate. A month'.

'Hmmm…' Ichigo took a moment to consider it. 'Sure'.

Kisuke tossed him the bar in an underhand throw, the high arc making it easy to snatch out of the air.

'Cool. Thanks, Urahara'.

'You're welcome, Kurosaki-kun!'

Armed with a bar of chocolate, Ichigo walked down the narrow hallway to the trapdoor that led to the "secret" basement below the building. Unlocking the latch with his foot, Ichigo knelt down and opened the reinforced hatch with inhuman strength. The half-mile drop caused excitement to bubble in his chest.

Standing to his full height, Ichigo put his hands in his pockets, retrieving a small, yellow marble with his right that he popped into his mouth. The second he swallowed his soul was ejected from his body to make room for another.

Kon yelped as he tilted forward, flailing with his arms to move his centre of balance away from the deadly drop at his toes.

'Relax'.

The neckline of the shirt he wore rode up and dug into his throat, pulling his whole body back till he sat on the floor. Kon coughed a bit, craning his neck to give Ichigo a glare. 'Just a reminder, this is your body'.

'I know', Ichigo waved off as he stepped around Kon and onto the opening in the floor. 'Check the left pocket'.

Kon raised a brow but did as told, retrieving a bar of chocolate.

'What's this?'

'That's for you. If you want more, Urahara might appreciate some help with taking inventory', Ichigo said before letting gravity take hold of him, closing the trapdoor as he went down. After making sure it was properly closed, Ichigo put one foot against the wall, turned to face the rest of the room, and pushed off.

'Are you ready, Zangetsu?' Ichigo asked his spirit aloud, enjoying the way the air rushed passed him and messed with his hair and uniform.

Tch, like ya even have ta ask, Zangetsu responded, pretending the excitement with which his King had spoken their name didn't affect him at all. Lemme out already!

Ichigo's grin matched the one he could hear in Zangetsu's voice. His feet hit the ground, a cloud of dust sprouting up into the air while bright golden energy separated from him. It crossed the stone ground; the farther the energy went the darker the colour became, changing from gold to a deep red with black. It collided with an invisible wall ten meters away, the energy gathering and growing into a humanoid shape.

Drawing his zanpakutō, Ichigo watched the energy become a silhouette, with lines as sharp as his shadow. The red and black colour drained away, the shape becoming more pale and defined until it was Zangetsu staring back at him, weapon already in shikai.

'Ya wanna skip the foreplay and go straight to the good stuff?' Zangetsu asked, spinning the blade at their right side by the cloth wrapped around the hilt.

'If you mean bankai, we can't'.

Zangetsu's blade struck the earth. 'Still?! How long does it take that shady asshole ta fix a basement that's already fucking built?!'

Ichigo shrugged, 'I dunno but it's gonna take longer if we trash it'.

'Tch, fine—' Zangetsu crossed his arms with a huff, eyes going to their king—'Yer dual-wielding needs work still, anyway'.

'I've gotten better!'

'Then why haven't ya stabbed me with it yet?'

'I did last month!'

'Pfft, that paper cut? Nah, that doesn't count', Zangetsu dismissed. He uncrossed his arms and tugged on the cloth, yanking the blade free and returning it to his hand. 'I ain't satisfied till yer cross-guard leaves a mark on me'.

Ichigo raised a brow, 'Do you have any idea how hard I have to thrust to even get the tip to—' Ichigo shut his mouth, face rapidly gaining colour. Judging by Zangetsu's expression, this had been on purpose.

'Hm? "to get the tip to" what, King?' Zangetsu asked as innocently as he was capable of. 'To penetrate me?'

The red reached the tip of his ears, 'Y--You're the worst-- And don't call me that!'

Zangetsu's grin only widened, 'Whatever do ya mean? All I asked was fer ya ta run me through from end ta end with yer—'

'Shut up!' Ichigo lunged forward with his blade still sealed. Zangetsu cackled as he dodged. Ichigo quickly released his shikai before following the spirit with shunpo. It didn't take long for their fight to gain another dimension. Their feet left the ground as they flicked through the air with bursts of sonīdo and steps of shunpo.

A swing to the side had Ichigo draw the smaller blade. White steel met black and Ichigo redirected the edge rather than blocking it completely. He side-stepped the follow-up with shunpo, eying the survival knife. He loosed his grip on the hilt, changing his grip to be more gentle and nearly dropped it when Zangetsu punched a bala at him. His left sleeve did not survive the attack.

'Eyes on me, King!' Zangetsu warned.

'Don't call me that!' Was Ichigo's knee-jerk response. 'And it isn't my fault you're so damn bright it hurts my eyes!'

'Then start doing some damage!'

Ichigo grinned as he ducked under a kick and planted a fist into the spirit's stomach, releasing a bala that sent him flying. Ichigo followed. He sheathed the survival knife, adding his left to the hilt of his main blade. Upon hearing the sound of impact, Ichigo swung the blade, silently releasing the Getsuga Tenshō he had been charging. The arc of red cut through the cloud of dust, leaving a straight line carved into the blue-stained stone behind (as well as a leg).

Where did he--oh, fuck! Ichigo ducked. The shine of metal a flash above him. Had he been a moment later, Zangetsu would have cut his head clean off.

Ichigo felt the pride in Zangetsu's blade when they crossed swords again. The spirit's eyes had turned gold, their lips stretched into a wide grin that would make one question Zangetsu's sanity. A quick glance down revealed the spirit's right pant leg had been cut short. Blue stained the bare skin in a straight line around, just above the knee, with a handful of lines drawn down his shin and calf to his clawed foot.

To see Zangetsu so deeply invested in the fight was immensely satisfying and Ichigo grinned as they exchanged a series of rapid blows, showering the air around them with sparks birthed from their clashing blades.

'Bakudo #1, Sho'.

Ichigo's eyes widened as an invisible force planted into his abdomen and pushed him away. He had to swallow back his lunch before it reached his mouth a second time. Should have used hierro.

'Up here!' Zangetsu shouted and Ichigo (like the absolute idiot that he is) looked up only to be elbowed hard in his back. He recovered in time to avoid being skewered.

'Yer too naïve, King!' Zangetsu scolded as he fired a silent Getsuga Tenshō.

Ichigo noticed it a second too late and had no choice but to take the hit. His clothes and skin burned under the fierce energy, his hierro not strong or stable enough to protect him completely. At least, not while his attention was divided.

'I told you not to call me that!'

'Make me!'

Sensing Zangetsu advance, Ichigo struck. Pointing at the spirit, he released a fully charged cero at point blank. It wouldn't be enough to take Zangetsu down but it would buy Ichigo the time he needed to get his shit together. Or, that had been the plan. Zangetsu was a lot more proficient with hierro and high-speed regeneration, after all. He was back in Ichigo's face before he could take a breath.

S--Shit!

Out of reflex, Ichigo drew his secondary blade once more to black the swing to his chest. The two edges met, and one started to crack—

So Ichigo let go.

The knife clattered to the ground below them, cracks having spread out from the place the larger blade had hit it to cover the whole surface. A second later, a left arm joined the knife.

Ichigo hissed at the rush of pain radiating from his elbow. A shiver ran through his body as the coldness of the blade now stuck in his ribcage. Yep, that hurts. That de-fi-nite-ly hurts. Fuck!

'M--My bad', Ichigo said with a pained and bashful smile. 'I didn't have a good grip on it'.

Zangetsu didn't move for a second, almost as if he were frozen in time before his face morphed into fury. With a snarl did he yank his blade free (leaving no trace of an injury) and grabbed Ichigo by the throat with his left.

'Don't ya fucking dare cover for his ass'.

Ichigo gasped for air as his air pipe was squeezed shut, too surprised and confused to try and free himself. When his vision started to blur, Ichigo was let go. His feet hit the ground, his knees buckled, and he found himself on all fours coughing and heaving for air next to his dismembered arm (hadn't they been higher up?).

Zangetsu stood beside him and kicked the cracked blade as hard as he could. Using the momentum of the kick, the spirit settled in a familiar stance and threw his arm forward, pointing their blade at the one that skidded over the stone and screeched with rage,

'BAN-KAI!'

#

TO BE CONTINUED

BLEACH – Tite Kubo

Chapter Text

The released reiatsu literally blew Ichigo away. Thinking quick, he struck his main blade deep into the ground to anchor himself. Once the initial burst of energy settled, Ichigo looked up. The dust had yet to clear but, if he squinted his eyes a little, he could make out the silhouette of his Zanpakutō. The fuck is he doing?

His answer came not even a second later, when the air became thick and heavy with Hollow reiatsu and another voice rang through the air.

'W--what on Earth did you do that—?!'

An explosion of sonīdo swallowed the rest of the sentence and changed it into a pained gasp. The soundwave cleared the cloud of dust, revealing the scene that had played behind the curtain of pulverised stone.

For a reason unknown, Zangetsu had Hollowfied. The large blade of their bankai had been dismissed now their hands had turned into weapons themselves. The right claw had wrapped around a slender neck, nails digging into skin as it forced its prey up and against the back wall.

Ichigo need not to see more. Abandoning the blade, he crossed the distance with a leap of sonīdo. He grabbed the wrist of the hand wrapped around Zangetsu's victim (what had Tensa even done to deserve this?) and stared at the spirit as he demanded, 'Let him go'.

Zangetsu's grip weakened at the order, golden irises glancing at the pair of brown. Before he could make a decision, he felt the other's reiatsu  (and the emotions contained within) brush against his own and his rage returned full force. With a roar did Zangetsu tighten his grip and slammed the other into the back wall again, this time with enough force to leave an imprint.

Tensa didn't deign the abuse worth more than a hiss through clenched teeth. His feet searched for a foothold to relieve his neck of the weight of his body, reishi flickering beneath his boots to create support but dispersing whenever the pressure on his throat increased. With blunt nails did he clawed at the hand to pry himself free, eyes glaring unblinking at the other with hatred and spite.

Not wanting to find out what happened to Zanpakutō when they were killed by someone other than their wielder, Ichigo let his own mask form. He increased switched from Zangetsu's wrist to the front of his uniform, forcing him to look him in the eye. 'I said: Let. Him. Go'.

Tensa dropped to the ground, gasping for the air he had been deprived of only to choke on it when he inhaled too greedily. With his main concern resolved, Ichigo let go of Zangetsu, who sneered back at him in defiance even though he took a step back. Ichigo kept staring his Zanpakutō down until he looked away and only then did Ichigo dismiss his mask and turn his attention to his other spirit.

Tensa wasn't looking at them, bend over as he coughed up the air he was trying to inhale. Ichigo noticed a blue glow near the spirit's neck but it faded too fast for him to see what it had been. His failed investigation did reveal something else that Ichigo found much more worrying.

Spread across Tensa's skin in a spiderweb-like pattern were thin lines that looked similar to a crack in double-paned glass. Ichigo frowned, casting a glance at Zangetsu's blade and the one still stuck in the ground. Maybe not a crack in glass but in steel.

Ichigo shook his head. He could ponder about weird Zanpakutō biology—or whatever the fuck this shit falls under—after the tension had been resolved. Putting his hands together, Ichigo focused on a kaidō as he knelt down at Tensa's left. 'Here, let me—'

'Don't!'

Ichigo blinked, the kaidō flickering and vanishing, as he was levelled with the same intense glare Tensa had given Zangetsu a moment prior.

Tensa heaved one breath after another, his glare switching between Ichigo and Zangetsu. 'Don't…touch… me'.

Zangetsu screeched at Tensa in offence (more on Ichigo's behalf than his own) and took a step forward with the intention of resuming where he had left off. Ichigo was quicker, though, and put himself between them.

'Oh, no. You stay right there'. Ichigo put his right hand against Zangetsu's chest when the spirit didn't immediately listen and was relieved when he didn't try to steamroll him. It didn't stop Zangetsu from glaring and growling, though; their reiatsu lashing out in aggregation and barely restrained fury. 'Alright, who of you two is gonna tell me what is going on?' Ichigo asked, glancing between the two.

Tensa looked away at the question. 'That's none…of your…concern', he breathed out, prompting Zangetsu to voice their objection with a shriek.

The loud and shrill noise had Ichigo flinch, bringing his hands to his ears to protect his eardrums. He gave Zangetsu a look, 'Stop screeching and use your words, damnit'.

Zangetsu huffed, grumbling something illegible (which Ichigo knew to be expletives) as he reached for his mask with his right hand. The claws curled around the edge on the left side of his face and by the time Ichigo realised what the spirit was planning on doing, Zangetsu tore the mask from his face. Ichigo lunged forward to catch it but couldn't get around his Zanpakutō in time. It clattered to the ground and Ichigo didn't miss the way Zangetsu winced when a piece broke off.

'The fuck did you do that for?! That's your heart, you idiot! You need to be more careful with—'

Zangetsu interrupted him with a snarl, taking a step to the side so they could point at the other spirit while they shouted accusations. Well, Ichigo guessed that was the intent. The words that came out of the spirit's mouth were neither loud nor quick, let alone many or clear.

'He—! He's at…at fault!'

It came out so soft and hoarse, black mist passing their lips with every syllable they managed to get out. He would growl loud and clear in between words, some barely recognisable as a language spoken by humans.

It was odd. Zangetsu never had trouble speaking before. In fact, his Zanpakutō Spirit made being loud and obnoxious a character trait (his best even, in Zangetsu's own opinion). To see them struggle to string a single sentence together did nothing to ease Ichigo's growing concern.

Wow, wait a sec. Didn’t this happen back then, too? Ichigo thought back, way back, to the last time the two of them had fought before his soul was torn asunder. Yeah, he hadn't spoken then either. At least, not after he had donned their—

'Drop out of your Hollowfication', Ichigo ordered.

Zangetsu shook his head, pointing their finger at Tensa and making gestures along with their growls in the hope of getting their point across. Ichigo turned his attention to his other spirit with a frown, hoping he could shed some light in one way or another.

Tensa had recovered his breathing by now and had decided to manifest his inner "teenager" to match his appearance. He sat on the ground, one knee raised to his chest, and glaring at Zangetsu as if they were responsible for all that is wrong in the world.

Yeah…Ichigo understood Zangetsu's concern.

Ichigo caught his attention with a small wave of his hand. The fierce glare Tensa had been shooting at Zangetsu softened when his eyes moved to their wielder. 'Promise me you won't try to pull a vanishing act if they drop their Hollowfication'.

The request garnered a response from both spirits, one with an accusing look and the other with a shrill noise that embodied offence and exasperation.

Tensa scowled (he had been making a lot of those faces today) at the other two, his eyes narrowing as he weighed his options. After a moment of consideration, he heaved a sigh. 'You have my word'.

Satisfied, Ichigo offered a nod in acceptance and appreciation before turning back to Zangetsu. 'He promised. Now drop it'.

Zangetsu glared at both Ichigo and Tensa, a low growl rumbling in his throat to voice both his scepticism of the other keeping his word, as well as his annoyance that Ichigo took those words at face value. Crossing their arms with a rough huff, Zangetsu did as he was told. The discarded and broken mask destabilised, melting into a non-descript black ooze that surged towards the spirit's chest. The black lines that covered his skin retraced their path back to the hole his heart had left behind. It filled back up completely, leaving nothing but white and scarred skin behind.

'And? Can you speak now?' Ichigo asked.

Zangetsu's lip twitched, exposing his overtly sharp teeth. 'Tch, course I can'. Black mist passed his lips as he spoke, voice still hoarse but words legible.

'Well then, what did you try to tell me?'

The reminder of why he had to remove his mask in the first place reignited Zangetsu's previous fury. With a sneer and golden glare did the spirit point at Tensa, 'Cuz that little shit over there thinks he ain't yer Zanpakuto!'

Before Ichigo could even raise a brow in confusion at the accusation, Tensa spoke up.

'Because I'm not!'

The snarl is what tipped Ichigo off. He quickly moved in front of Zangetsu, who had stepped forward. Placing his hand on his chest once more, he kept the spirit back to prevent a fight from breaking out.

'That is no reason to attack him like that', Ichigo scolded.

'No reason--his denial is what made yer blade weak, King!'

'First of all: don't call me that; we have been over this', Ichigo said, giving Zangetsu a look. 'Second: we were sparring. There is no need to—'

'We're fucking lucky we were sparring!' Zangetsu shouted, face gaining colour as his temper rose. 'What if that shit happened during patrol?'

'But to drag him out by force and attack him isn't—'

'Then when am I supposed ta do it then, huh? When yer on the ground bleeding ta death?'

'Hey, it was just my arm. There is no need to—'

Zangetsu snatched the before-mentioned arm by the wrist, raising and shaking it for emphasis as he hissed through gritted teeth, 'THIS time it was just yer arm. Next time, it could be yer leg—' He kicked Ichigo's shin— 'or ya chest—' He jabbed his nail into his sternum— 'or even yer damn head that comes off!' They grabbed a fistful of orange hair, forcing Ichigo to look at them. 'Do ya remember what high-speed regeneration can't fix, King? Vital organs, like that brain yer never using!'

Ichigo pulled his wrist free, grabbing Zangetsu's in return and tightening his grip until the spirit let go of his hair. Zangetsu didn't back down and Ichigo's own eyes shifted to gold as he stared the other down.

'You could have told me', Ichigo countered. 'We could have talked this shit out without—'

Zangetsu grabbed the front of Ichigo's uniform, 'How can you be so damn calm about this?!' he shrieked, abandoning the fabric he had taken hostage to point at Tensa once more. 'He's literally jeopardising yer life and—'

'I am not!'

'Yes, ya are!' Zangetsu pushed Ichigo aside. 'That weren't mah blade he were blocking with!'

'Nor was it mine!' Tensa yelled back, rising to his feet. 'I am not a—'

'Stop lying to yerself! Ya've got yer own damn bankai  fer crying out loud; what more proof do ya need?!'

'That is not a bankai. It's an imita—'

Zangetsu lunged forward with a roar of rage, claws aimed at the bruised throat to finish the job if it meant shutting the other up before he could finish that sentence. Tensa was quick. He evaded the claws with hirenkyaku, blue gathering at his fingertips as he summoned a bow in his left.

Both Zangetsu and Ichigo stared at Tensa. While they had known the other represented Ichigo's Quincy heritage, while they had known the other was just as much an archer as he was a swordsman, to see him wield a bow drove the fact home as an indisputable truth.

Ichigo was the first one to take his eyes away, aiming them at Zangetsu instead. The spirit was seething, reiatsu wound up tight like a spring ready to uncoil. He reached out with his right, wanting to keep Zangetsu from starting a fight but his fingers were smacked away by the hand he was trying to grab. With a snarl, Zangetsu leapt forward with sonīdo; the backlash of the sonic boom throwing Ichigo against the other wall, rupturing his eardrums.

#

TO BE CONTINUED

BLEACH – Tite Kubo

Chapter Text

Dozens, if not hundreds, of arrows, sang their song of promised pain as they were released into the world, born with the sole purpose of stopping the advancing Hollow before it could come close enough to taint the air Tensa breathed.

Zangetsu side-stepped between the hail of deadly reishi with quick steps of shunpo, ignoring the few that pierced his sleeves and grazed his hierro. Knowing he couldn't win with just his claws, Zangetsu outstretched his right hand and called upon his blade. His reiatsu spiked, red flaring up in the pitch maelstrom his power had become. It gathered in his palm and Zangetsu swung it before even resembled anything like a sword. The power snapped into shape, blade sharp and defined by the time he had finished his swing, having released a silent Getsuga Tenshō.

The red arc hit the ground, a hair shy of Tensa's feet (why hadn't he moved?). A cloud of dust, dirt, and pulverised stone sprung up into the air and swallowed the spirit whole.

With his target blinded visually, Zangetsu pulled his reiatsu in as close to his core as he could and jumped up high. Locking on to the sole silhouette in the dust cloud, he grabbed the hilt of his blade with both hands. With two somersaults to build up momentum, he brought his blade down as he entered the cloud. Soul-tempered steel sunk deep into stone and Zangetsu hissed out a curse. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. (He would have been severely disappointed in his other half if it had been.)

Landing behind his blade, Zangetsu pulled the blade free and twisted. A small barrage of arrows hit the steel instead of his back.

'Such cheap trick won't work on me', Tensa told, voice cold as he pulled the string of his bow taut once more.

'Ya sure 'bout that, Brat?!'

A single finger was pointed over the blade in his direction, a small red orb of light glowing at the tip it the nail. Tensa abandoned the string, jumping up and fleeing into the sky to avoid getting hit by a fully charged cero. The smell of burned fabric told him he hadn't succeeded. He wasn't allowed to mourn the singed end of his coat when Zangetsu appeared in his face a heartbeat later.

'What's your problem?!' Tensa demanded as they clashed, steel meeting reishi over and over.

'You are! With yer lying and denying--Do you have no pride at all?!'

The bow vanished and steel cut air. Zangetsu braced his side with his arm. A heeled boot connected with his elbow.

'Of course, I have my pride!' Tensa brandished his bow once more and fired. 'That of the Quincy!'

Meanwhile, Ichigo had only just recovered from having his hearing and balance torn asunder. With a shake of his head to shed himself from his lingering disorientation (and reminding himself that he did, indeed, still have a headache), he moved to get his sword. If he wanted a chance at overpowering and subduing his spirits, he had to take it up a notch, Kisuke's basement be damned.

He never reached his sword. His arms locked behind his back and glowing rods of light impaled him from all sides to keep him from moving. He was trapped.

Both Tensa and Zangetsu had their free hand outstretched to him, faces contorted with rage as they shouted in perfect harmony: 'STAY OUT OF IT!'

Their moment of unison had them turn their attention back to one another.

'A "Quincy", my ass. Ya just used a kidō!'

'So what if I did? That doesn't prove anything!'

'It proves yer not a Quincy; Quincy can't use kidō!'

'And neither can Hollows yet you just did!'

'I never claimed ta be just a Hollow now, did I?!' Zangetsu countered. 'Unlike you, I know who and what I am and I'm damn proud of—!'

'SH--SHUT UP!'

The reiatsu that Tensa had kept under control exploded from his core and out into the open, pushing Zangetsu away and keeping him there lets he wanted to risk burning off his hierro.

Both Ichigo and Zangetsu found themselves staring at the other spirit for a second time that day as he displayed another technique of the Quincy—this one, neither of them had seen before. Silver-blue ribbons of reishi streamed towards Tensa, fuelling his power and weaving the most beautiful angelic-like wings they had ever seen.

(Fuck, did Zangetsu want to fight the other like this. He wanted to find out if those wings were attached to him or not, if he could rip them from his back or if he couldn't even touch them. Could he change the way they looked? Were they purely defensive or could they be used for offensive as well?)

Captivated as he was, Zangetsu didn't see the fist coming. It connected with his jaw, knocking out a few teeth. A kick followed suit, the heel digging deep enough to break ribs. This time, Zangetsu didn't even hit the ground. His flight came to an end when he ran out of space to fly through.

(Maybe he should fantasize about fighting his other half later—read: after Tensa had come to his senses.)

The stone wall succumbed to the force like glass did at the swing of a baseball bat. Zangetsu spit out a stray tooth and a mouthful of blood as he leaned out of the crater his body had made in the wall, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. He didn't know what trick the other was using but oh-boy did it pack a punch. (Why had he never told him about this? The brat has been holding out on him--no, focus!) His hierro had stood no chance and Zangetsu had to wait for his high-speed regeneration to fix the worst of his injuries.

He needed to step it up. If bankai alone wasn't enough then his resurrección should do the trick, if only to even the playing field. Zangetsu brought up his hand, calling upon the darker parts of his core so he could sacrifice his heart (and humanity) once more.

'You don't know anything about me!' Tensa shouted with wings tense and bow drawn. 'Don't you dare presume otherwise!'

The reiatsu dissipated from Zangetsu's fingertips.

'I ain't the one pretending ta be something I ain't!' Zangetsu shot back, pushing himself out of the crater. 'And what for? I know ya don't mean half the shit of what yer saying anyway!'

Zangetsu had felt it when they were clashing, it was so clear in his reiatsu. For how fierce his attacks were and how intent the other was on denying it, Zangetsu knew his other half was conflicted. (And that conflict didn't feel like his other half.)

'Don't ya want ta be King's Zanpakutō?!'

Tensa's eyes flashed and the string was released. Where there had been hundreds before, there were now thousands. Zangetsu cursed and started dodging, biting his tongue as a few pierced his hierro and grazed his skin (fuck, did those things burn! And not in a good way). Black smoke rose from his wounds, healing them as fast as the arrows that made them.

Switching his grip from the hilt to the chain, Zangetsu began to spin the blade while continuing to dodge. When Tensa drew the string back in preparation for releasing another barrage, Zangetsu let his sword fly. It was deflected, not by an arm but by a wing. It curved around Tensa, taking the hit and flicking the weapon away as it flicked open; arrows following the chain back to his attacker.

Zangetsu was prepared. Having charged another cero, he let it loose while recalling his blade with a pull on the chain. The arrows that got consumed by the cero were disintegrated but that still left quite a few Zangetsu had to evade. He danced around the remaining projectiles but failed to notice where they landed. The chain pulled taut and slipped from his hands, leaving him sans weapon.

'Give it up', Tensa told. 'You're no match for me like you are now'.

'Fuck you!' Zangetsu snarled, throwing out his left to recall his blade that way. The chain snapped, freeing the pinned blade to return to the spirit's hand. 'I won't stop until you admit—'

It happened when he blinked, Zangetsu was sure. A single arrow lodged itself into his shoulder, shattering bone and blocking movement. The shaft burned all it touched, black smoke rising while blue stained fabric. Two more joined the party. One finds a home in his wrist and the other nestles in his elbow, rendering his left arm completely useless.

He couldn't win without using resurrección; he had to use it, his voice be damned. He could shout and curse all he wanted after he had set the other's head straight.

Bringing his free hand to his face, pain flared up in his wrist and shoulder. An arrow had pierced both, pinning them together. He hadn't even seen Tensa fire.

Well…shit.

His knees were targeted next. Zangetsu sunk to the ground with a hiss. For the first time, he cursed his instinctive use of high-speed regeneration. It kept on trying to heal his wounds but as long as the arrows were still lodged inside his body, the holes couldn't be closed. Instead, it kept on healing tissue (and nerves) that continued to be burned.

…d--double shit.

Blindingly bright blue flooded his vision, the large wings spread out in an impressive display of intimidation for someone who was a head shorter than him. Now, however, with Zangetsu down on his knees, the other towered over him. Still, Zangetsu snarled up at him in defiance. He would not stand down. He would not give up. He would continue till the other came to his senses and—

—his hair was grabbed.

"Ah, ah, ah~ That wasn't very nice of you."

Zangetsu's eyes widened at the voice echoing through his head, one that struck the fear of God in him even though he couldn't remember why.

"I wouldn't have to hurt you if you just obeyed."

Images accompanied the voice this time. Flashes so sharp and vivid as if they were happening right this moment, yet forgotten as fast as they had appeared, leaving only the fear of the moment behind.

Tensa fisted a handful of the shorter white in his left hand and pulled, forcing Zangetsu's head back and up till their faces were inches apart. He didn't hold back with his power, letting it all free and pressing down on the Hollow in his grasp.

'I. AM. A. Quincy', he hissed, voice low and eyes glowing with anger. 'Just as Ichigo was supposed to be. It is your fault that he is, and forever will be, an anomaly in every society in the three worlds! All because you couldn't just die like you were supposed to. Because you tried to kill his mother, he was made part of a world he has no business being it!'

"It looks like another failure, I'm afraid."

A dark laboratory. Cold water. Body hurts.

"Behave. You don't have the luxury of being disobedient."

Tiled floor. Hair pulled. Body hurts.

"It would take less effort to dispose of it and try again."

Shackled arms. Broken bones. Body hurts.

Tensa raised the Hollow higher, lifting his knees from the ground till he was on eye height. 'Without your interfering, he would never have been made to tear himself asunder! Would never have an abomination such like yourself trying to play the part of a Zanpakutō!’

"May I examine it?"

Pink hair. Collared neck. Body hurts.

"Let's see what. makes. you. tick."

Hard table. Opened up torso. Body hurts.

"Ugh, so loud. I hate it when they're still alive."

Veins on fire. Hand inside chest. Body hurts.

'You're a freak of nature, you shouldn't even exist! Meister would be better off without you!'

"White."

*Clatter*

#

TO BE CONTINUED

BLEACH – Tite Kubo

Chapter Text

…Wait.

His body moved without his input. It evaded attacks with hirenkyaku; it spoke lies with his voice; and it channelled reishi as easily as it used his lungs to breathe, moulding the energy into ammunition it used to unleash attacks of its own.

This…this doesn't feel right.

While, yes, the other had forced him to separate when he had no desire to, and…yes, they had immediately started to strangle him instead of trying to resolve the issue with words like a civilised being (not that it wouldn't have ended in a fight if they had tried, but still); however, considering what is at stake—who is at stake—he couldn't say he blamed them. Just like one cannot blame a predator for eating prey.

W--what? No! That's not what I—!

We shouldn't let ourselves be fooled by its human-like appearance, for it is still a Hollow underneath .

Well, yes--uhm, maybe…but we can at least try to communicate—

What use does it have to attempt to reason with a being that lets instinct guide its actions; that acts upon whatever whim that strikes it with no regard for others; whose very nature is defined by aggression and destruction? The answer is none. Beings that have no rationale cannot be reasoned with, and we shouldn't waste time trying to.

It had been like this for months.

From the day their master (our charge) had appeared in the mindscape, for the first time since his powers had been restored after having torn his soul asunder, and accepted (been deceived by) his counterpart (that thing) for what they truly are (a parasite); his thoughts had grown more and more…conflicted (clearer to the truth).

During the war, while the parasite fought with Ichigo, he had come to accept (been tricked into believing) that the two of them were the same being, that they both shared the same goal of keeping Ichigo safe—that they were two halves of a whole. But once it became the dominant power and he was left with nothing more than echoes of the outside and his own thoughts, that previous belief got picked apart piece by piece.

We share a body.

Because there is only one source of power to be represented.

I can use powers that are exclusive to Shinigami, just as he can.

The soul of our charge is a unique mix of powers, it is only logical that we—and it—can use techniques we shouldn't be able to harness normally.

We both care about Ichigo.

It only cares about our charge staying alive for if he perishes, so does it.

But to see Ichigo grow stronger, see him defeat his opponents, brings us both so much joy and pride.

We are a Quincy. Hollows are our natural enemies, Shinigami our vowed nemesis. Why wouldn't seeing him slay Hollows and defeat Shinigami fill us with pride and joy?

But…but we are a Zanpakutō, as well as a Quincy. Just as they are as much of a Hollow as they are a Zanpakutō. We have to be for Ichigo to even exist. That's what Urahara Kisuke—

The powers we hold do not determine what we are, our actions and choices do. And we are no Zanpakutō, we have only played the part to protect our charge from dying at the hands of our vowed nemesis and enemy. We will do anything to keep him alive so he can one day return to the light.

But what about them? Haven't they also—

It has done nothing but harm him, if not with a blade, it has done so with its words or actions. It is no Zanpakutō, merely a Hollow that charades as one.

A…Hollow.

That's right.

They…they are a Hollow.

Exactly.

And we are--we are a Quincy.

We are indeed.

We're not a Zanpakutō. We have just played the part. We are a Quincy.

Very good.

Yes, that's right. He…he was a Quincy, just like his mei—his charge. How could he have ever been lead to believe he was anything else? His eyes have finally been opened to the truth and his duty had never been more clear: to guide his charge through the darkness he had been pulled in and towards the light he was destined for.

But to successfully free his charge from the web of lies (but they weren't lies) the Hollow had entangled him in, he had to act as swiftly as he had to be cautious. The Hollow has had time to sink its claws deep into his charge's heart and mind. He would have to find ways to limit their interactions, to prevent the Hollow from solidifying its influence even more, without drawing suspicion from either of them.

(If this was truly the right thing to do, then why did it leave such a foul taste in his mouth?)

That is just the lingering confusion speaking. It will fade once we have eradicated the Hollow.

It hadn't. It had only grown stronger with every accusation the Hollow (his counterpart) had thrown at him.

"His denial is what made yer blade weak."

"He's literally jeopardising yer life."

I'm not a Zanpakutō. Ergo, the blade fracturing has nothing to do with me. (Then why had it hurt? Why had his skin fractured if he wasn't connected to that blade? Why, if he truly was not responsible, did he feel such shame and guilt?)

"I ain't the one pretending ta be something I ain't!"

It is you who pretends to be something it isn't. I am a Quincy, nothing more and nothing less. (Then why did that label feel incomplete? Like the puzzle that was his identity was missing pieces?)

"Don't ya want ta be King's Zanpakutō?!"

There is nothing that I want more than to erase you from existence!

His anger at the accusation, at the other for even suggesting such a thing, was all that was needed for the control to be taken from his hands. His body began to act on its own, releasing a power he had never used before but knew he had always possessed. It increased his power tenfold, the thrum of power pulsing through his veins like the buzz of alcohol, as intoxicating as it was liberating.

Yet he had never felt as powerless as he did when watching the other get hit in their joints.

We want to protect him, do we not? Protect him from harm he does not need to suffer.

First the left shoulder, then the wrist and elbow. The right arm was next, with a single shot the wrist was pinned to the shoulder. The knees were last.

Please, stop hurting them!

Do not worry. We will finish it quickly. No need to prolong its suffering, after all.

W--what?

Remember, that thing tried to kill his mother; it drove him into fearing himself; it is responsible for him being pulled into a scheme that did nothing but hurt him. It would behove us to get rid of it before it—

NO!

The clattering of steel upon stone struck through the darkness he had been kept in. Tensa blinked, finding himself in control of himself once more. His eyes flicked down to where the source of the sound had originated from, finding a snow-white blade stained with blue lying abandoned on the ground. (Why was it on the ground? The other never let go of their sword.)

A droplet of midnight splattered upon the hilt, drawing Tensa's gaze higher to discover the limp fingertips from which it had fallen. Dark blue marbles painted the paths of least resistance on pale skin, from the pierced wrist from where the blood flowed down to the black nails where they dripped to the ground.

The tail end of a wisp of smoke drew his eyes up to the arrow that had shattered the other's elbow. The sleeve, soaked blue with blood, showed signs of burning around the arrow's shaft.

Another arrow, this one in the shoulder, brought his gaze up higher. Tensa caught a glance of the other's face and his breath hitched, his blood running cold at the sight.

No…

Golden irises, which have always glowed with resolve and bloodlust, had turned dull and empty. They stared straight ahead, unfocused and unseeing of the world around them. The (quivering) pinpricks their pupils had become allowing no light to penetrate the abyss their mind had been thrown in.

No, no no-nononononononono—

Tensa pulled back, the white strands he had been gripping slipping from his fingers like silk. The other sunk to the ground, knees splayed and bleeding as the arrows tore the skin open further. Blue liquid spilt from the wounds, staining the hakama and forming puddles on the ground.

There was no reaction. No snarl or growl or hiss or twitch that would betray the other was aware that their knees were gushing blood. They just sat there, head hanging forward and eyes still unseeing and unblinking.

The wings, as well as his stamina, evaporated in a burst of reishi. Tensa dropped to the ground with a breathless gasp, stumbling a few steps backwards before regaining his balance—never taking his eyes off his counterpart. He grabbed his left wrist and held it to his chest, afraid that if he didn't, it would reach for the other again. (He was so sorry.)

Why don't they move? Why don't they shout? Why aren't they healing?!

He blinked. Then blinked again and again, digging his nails into the skin of his wrist until he drew blood in the hope the scene before him would reveal itself for the nightmare that it was but it didn't. And that made it hurt all the more.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

'Zangetsu!'

Ichigo appeared between them, having finally, finally broken free of the kidō that had kept him bound. He didn't spare Tensa a glance, turning him his back (which carried his blade) and kneeling down before the motionless spirit. His hands were frantic with worry, reaching this and that way but never touching out of concern it would not be well received.

'Hey, are you alright? What's the matter? Are you hurt? Come on, talk to me'. Ichigo prodded the other as gently as he could as if his voice alone held the strength to shatter them to pieces. He waved a hand in their line of sight, called out to them by name, and brushed their skin with his reiatsu but the result stayed the same.

Tensa's guilt increased with every failed attempt, his own worry and concern growing higher than he had ever experienced them. It made his hands tighten their grip on his arms, pulling the fabric of his coat so tight around his biceps it cut off blood flow. His legs felt unstable, his body cold, and his eyes burned.

'What have you done?'

The words were spoken in an even tone, betraying none of the emotions the speaker was feeling. Yet, the question struck Tensa as if it had been shouted in his ear. His body stiffened in surprise, eyes blinking thrice in rapid succession with moisture lining his lashes.

'W--what?'

Ichigo turned his head, looking over his right shoulder and levelling Tensa with golden eyes burning as bright as the sun as he demanded through gritted teeth, 'What the fuck have you done to him?!'

Tensa took a step back at the glare and anger-hurt-betrayal in Ichigo's reiatsu. He shook his head, eyes avoiding those of his meister (he is not our master) as he forced out a reply, 'I--I…I don't know'.

Ichigo reached back, fingers curling around the hilt of the blade he carried and Tensa immediately took another step back.

It was that small step and the blatant guilt on Tensa's face that had Ichigo pause. He closed his eyes, fingers slipping from the hilt again, as he took a handful of deep breaths to manifest the patience he needed to handle this situation. He had to stay calm. If he truly needed to, he could always ask Kisuke to fight him later. The man wouldn't want to miss the chance to beat his ass in compensation for the damage they had done to his basement.

'…Alright'. Ichigo nodded his head slowly as he opened his eyes. 'Do you know how to help him?'

Tensa shook his head. 'N--no. I…I have never seen—' (that thing, him, it)—'them like this before'.

Ichigo closed his eyes again, hands becoming fists. 'Okay… then I think it's best if you wait over there. We will talk about this—'

'There is nothing to talk about'.

It had been but a murmur, a whisper of thought escaping the safe confines of one's mind. Like when a teenager objects or corrects a caregiver during a scolding, thinking they wouldn't be heard over the lecture. And, just like the caregivers always would, Ichigo heard it loud and clear.

'So you did this for fun, then?!' Ichigo snapped. 'I sure fucking hope not, Tensa!'

The name hit him like a wrecking ball, one made of rage, disbelief, and betrayal. It struck Tensa square in his core, which wailed in anguish at being the source of such emotion in his meister. He wrapped his arms around himself tighter as his body began to tremble, taking another step back.

I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry—

Ichigo sighed. While he felt bad about causing Tensa even more distress, Ichigo had more pressing issues to fix at the moment. 'I--sorry. We will talk later whether or not there is something to talk about. Just…just stay there for a bit, alright?' Only when the spirit offered a nod in silent agreement did Ichigo turn his complete attention back to Zangetsu.

'Remove the arrows'.

Without question or objection, the arrows broke apart and blood started to pour from the holes left behind—which. Still. Didn't. Heal.

'Sh--shit'. Knowing he didn't have the skill in kaidō needed to stop the bleeding, Ichigo put his hands on Zangetsu's shoulders, hoping to shake the spirit from wherever his mind had gone to so he could start fixing himself before he bled out. (Could Zanpakutō even bleed out? No, doesn't matter, Ichigo didn't want to find out.)

Zangetsu flinched away at the touch, wide and glowing eyes flicking up to meet brown. A noise, one as foreign to their ears as alien to hear came from Zangetsu's throat, struck both Ichigo and Tensa square in their core.

Ichigo held his hands up where the spirit could see them, 'It's okay, it's okay--easy now'.

He waited for some sign of recognition to show on the spirit's face, not daring to move until he was sure Zangetsu was at least somewhat aware of his surroundings. 'It's just me, okay? It's just me. No one is gonna hurt you, I promise'.

Ichigo continued to speak, keeping his voice soft as he murmured assurances and promises. The rapid breaths became less frantic, the haze that clouded Zangetsu's eyes lifting though the shine didn't return.

'That's it. It's okay. It's just me, Zangetsu. It's just me'.

Small pupils flicked to Ichigo and focussed. The panic and fright lessened and life started to return. Black smoke rose from the various wounds, healing them all in seconds. Blue tinted lips moved minutely and Zangetsu swallowed before he spoke, 'K…King?'

Ichigo slowly lowered his hands, 'I'll let that one slide this time'.

Zangetsu looked at Ichigo with confusion, eyes flicking about briefly. 'I don't--what happened?'

'You don't remember?'

'Remember…' Zangetsu brought up his right to his head, nursing his temple and forehead. 'I know I got my ass kicked to kingdom come, gave me a fucking headache—didn't even know I could have one'.

'Would kaidō help?' Ichigo offered. 'Or should Urahara—'

Zangetsu silenced the suggestion with a look, one that held a little bit of the fire that had been vacant. His eyes flicked to the side, taking note of his other half standing a few ways behind his king. They looked conflicted and guilt-ridden, the complete opposite of the expression they had worn when they had—

'Imma go back to yer mindscape…sleep this shit off'. Zangetsu kept his eyes on Tensa as he said this before looking at his king. 'You go talk some sense into him, will ya?'

Ichigo opened his mouth to protest. He could sense Zangetsu wasn't feeling well and wanted to help them sort themselves out. But he also knew there was a time and place for everything and right now was not the moment to argue with his Hollow Zanpakutō.

'Alright', Ichigo relented with a sigh. 'I’ll check up on you later, then’.

‘Fucking mothering hen--I’m fine, Aibō’.

His king didn’t say anything in response, just gave him a look (worried-loving-insisting) that had warmth replace the coldness of his core. He averted his eyes with a huff, ‘…fine’.

Ichigo smiled, ‘Take it easy, yeah?’

‘Whatever’.

#

TO BE CONTINUED

BLEACH – Tite Kubo

Chapter Text

Even after having seen it happen over five dozen times, watching his Zanpakutō return to his mindscape still caused Ichigo a sense of unease. To bear witness to a being (a person)—with whom you have been speaking and fighting only moments ago—becoming energy before your very eyes came awfully close to a scene you might find in some sort of horror movie. It isn’t gruesome, by any means; there is no blood, gore, or any of those nausea-inducing sights involved. Nevertheless, seeing someone’s body lose definition and shape in the blink of an eye had something unsettling to it that Ichigo doubted he would ever get used to.

With one of his two spirits back where they belong, Ichigo permitted himself to heave a small sigh of relief. (While manifesting his spirits had no adverse side-effects, rapid energy consumption notwithstanding, he always felt more at ease once Zangetsu returned to him.) Now that he didn’t need to worry about another fight breaking out and with Zangetsu safe and sound in his mindscape, Ichigo could set his attention on the other half of his Zanpakutō.

Tensa—(wait, should he still call him that?)—The spirit had his head angled down and away, his mess of dark brown waves shielding most of his face. Still, Ichigo could see the lack of focus in his gaze, betraying how far down in the woods of his own thoughts the spirit wandered. His posture lacked his usual confidence and poise, with his arms still wrapped around himself, back bent and shoulders hunched, the spirit looked every bit a child as his appearance would suggest he is.

(Odd.)

Not wanting to startle the other too much, Ichigo ground the little rocks under his waraji as he turned in the hope the noise would alert the spirit, which it did; only, it worked a little bit too well. The spirit shot to attention, eyes wide and body frozen; the image of a deer in headlights and a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar came to mind.

‘Alright, now it’s our turn to talk’.

Upon hearing the word “talk” the spirit shook his head, eyes flicking back to the safety of the ground to avoid Ichigo entirely. ‘T—there is nothing that I wish to talk about’.

‘That’s too bad—‘

Two hands planted themselves firmly on the spirit’s shoulders, sending a tremor down his spine that locked up every joint down to his toes. His head snapped up, meeting the determined eyes of his meister (that boy is not our master)—he hadn’t noticed him move!

‘—because I do’.

The pressure those hands exerted on him increased, becoming a strong suggestion to sit down. Ichigo wasn’t using his full strength, he knew—it wouldn’t even force Yuzu to the ground. The spirit could stay standing if he wanted to and could take a step back if he so wished. The contact did nothing more than silently convey what Ichigo wanted him to do. (Not forced; not ordered).

‘So we are going to have a talk—‘ Ichigo continued as the spirit let himself be guided to his knees—‘ because I do not want a repeat of what happened today’. Once the spirit was on the ground, Ichigo sat down across from him in a seiza. ‘And I know you don’t want that, either’.

(We do not have to justify ourselves.)

(We wouldn’t have needed a repeat if we had not let ourselves be distracted.)

(How dare he order us around like we are but a child. We are over fifty times his age!)

Ignoring the objections that wanted to be vocalised, the spirit swallowed the harsh words back and nodded in agreement. He had taken no joy from seeing the other so beaten down, had regretted his actions the moment he committed them. The mere memory of feeling (second-handed) satisfaction at seeing genuine fear in their eyes made him feel dirty in a way that couldn’t be cleansed with a mere shower.

(I…I should never have hurt them.)

Shifting his weight off his knees and brushing them off with a quick swipe of his hand (vacating the rocks that were trying to dig themselves a home in them), the spirit brought one knee up to his chest.

‘So…’ Ichigo started, sounding a lot more uncertain than he had when declaring they needed to talk. ‘I heard you shout a lot of things…heard Zangetsu shout a lot of things. I didn’t catch everything but I think it all boiled down to you…to you not seeing yourself as my Zanpakutō and Zangetsu not being happy about that for various reasons’. Ichigo paused, eyes flicking away for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. ‘I think the first question I need to ask is: what’s the name you want to be called by?’

Tensa Yhwach Zangetsu.

The spirit tightened his embrace around his knee, ‘I—I’m afraid that…that is where the problem lies’.

Do not say another word. I don't want to keep secrets. He doesn't understand. All the more reason to explain it! He is but a child. He's still my meister! That boy is not our master.

The spirit pinched his eyes shut as the voices returned with renewed vigour. Loud and demanding did they plead their case, trying to counter each other’s words with contradicting facts and reason. He pressed his forehead against his knee hard enough to bruise if he had been a human, wishing he could squish the proverbial devil and angel on his shoulders into silence.

He didn’t want to listen to endless arguments. He’s sick of hearing the voice of his shikai claim Quincy supremacy, and tired of hearing the voice of his bankai try to mediate and defend the other’s personhood. The spirit just wanted to think for himself without their influence, make decisions and form opinions based on his own experiences and emotions and not be coerced into—

‘Hey…’

A hand on his right shoulder silenced the voices like a king’s decree. The spirit looked up, meeting the pair of brown he loved more than anything in the world. (The only thing both voices even remotely agreed upon.)

Behind those brown eyes, however, was a brain working overtime trying to find the words needed to traverse the situation. While Ichigo had gotten better at opening up, about talking with others about his (and their) feelings, in no way could he be considered fluent in the subject. The various self-help books he had gotten from Yuzu certainly helped but they didn’t magically fix the various types of trauma he had collected like they were trading cards.

Nevertheless, this was the situation he now found himself in. Ichigo couldn’t ask the spirit to wait so he could call Yuzu for help; he couldn’t postpone the conversation so he could read up on various tactics and risk the spirit falling deeper than he already had. It was sink or swim, do or die, hit or miss--you get the point. So Ichigo opened his mouth and started talking, hoping his luck kicked in and it would end up okay.

‘I am not gonna ask if you’re alright or doing okay because we both know something is bothering and upsetting you. And I want to remind you that I—No, that…even when I’m upset with something you have done—hate something you have done…you are a part of me and I will never hate you’.

Internally, Ichigo cringed at the words coming from his mouth. (Why did I say it like that! Kami, that sounded so—Uhg! Fuck! Damnit—No. Let it go. Let it go. I’ve said it, I can’t take it back. Just—Just roll with it and try not to die from embarrassment.)

‘So…if something is bothering or upsetting or troubling you, something you need to get off your chest, know that I will listen and—‘ His brain finally provided him with the information he needed, one he wished he had remembered before adding a cringe-worthy memory that would haunt him for the rest of his life whenever he would try to sleep—‘What I’m trying to say is…Please, tell me what’s on your mind’.

The genuine concern in Ichigo’s eyes; the uncertainty in which he had bumbled through his sincere assurances; the care-worry-upset-curiosity in his reiatsu; each chipped away at the wall around the spirit’s core, breaking it down brick-by-brick to free the self that had been restrained for so long.

‘I—I’m sorry’. The confession escaped him in a whisper amidst an uneven exhale. His chest grew tighter with every breath, each more shallow and quick than the one before. ‘I didn’t—I didn’t mean to, I—I’m…I thought that…that I knew but I didn’t and then—and then—‘

An inhale, one as sudden as it were unexpected, exchanged the rest of his sentence for a watery gasp. The burning in his eyes became too much to bear, he pinched them shut, feeling something warm and wet roll down his cheeks.

He was crying.

He shook his head, trying to wipe his face dry with his sleeves but the sobs wrecking his frame messed with his coordination.

By the gods, he must look like such a child. Wasn't he a soul over the age of a millennium? To get upset over something so trivial was an embarrassment—

Rough fingers found their way up the back of his neck, burying in the mess of brown strands to press his head against a clothed shoulder. An arm around his waist secured him in place, giving him space to shift but not move.

‘It’s okay’.

It wasn't until he felt a hand on his back move in slow circles that his brain caught up with what happened. He immediately tried to push away, to separate himself from the beacon of warmth he so desperately craved but Ichigo only held him more firmly.

'Not until you got it out of your system'.

The spirit wanted to object. He wanted to shout in indignation but the words struck too hard and too close to home. Whatever wall had been left standing crumbled at the sincerity of them, releasing the tidal wave of emotions he had suppressed for almost a year now.

Happiness at being reunited with his meister after being torn apart so viciously,

Shame at his own complacency at being considered a Zanpakutō,

Jealousy at the other for getting to spend so much time with their master,

Regret for hurting them both,

And pain at being feared by the one person he was (supposed to be) closest to.

It overwhelmed him in its intensity, pushing everything else aside. Tears flowed like waterfalls down his face which he hid in the crook of Ichigo's neck, hoping to muffle his wails of anguish.

And Ichigo let him. Ichigo kept his gaze aimed ahead, his main concern being preventing his own emotions from leaking into his reiatsu, not wanting the spirit picked up on it. He kept his hold firm and continued to breathe in steady intervals as the other clung to him. Ichigo had been the one in the spirit's position once, having cried himself to sleep on Yuzu's lap after uncapping the bottle he had been filling since he was nine.

But unlike Yuzu (bless her soul), Ichigo had one more thing to deal with aside from the tears, sobs, and blubbering from another on his shoulder…

(ShameI'mSoSoSorryGriefILoveYouSoMuchRegretIShouldn'tHaveIWantToTakeItBackIDon'tDeserveForgiveness.)

And that was being exposed to the spirit’s emotions that were leaking into his reiatsu, which, due to his current breakdown, were a lot more potent than what Ichigo had experienced before.

As consumed in his own thoughts as he was, Ichigo lost his grip on time. The spirit's sobs lessened, becoming the occasional hiccup and sniffle. How long it had taken for him to calm down, Ichigo didn't know. What he did know, is that it had taken a while since he started to feel tired from keeping him manifested.

‘Are you feeling better now?’

The spirit shook his head as he wiped his face dry. While he did feel marginally better after that…undignified display, the guilt and shame he had previously been suppressing made him feel much, much worse.

‘Too bad, we’re still going to talk’.

It seemed Ichigo would not allow him any more compassion than he already was—which was much more than he deserved.

‘Now, let’s circle back to the question you haven’t answered yet: tell me what’s on your mind’.

'It's... it's something asinine', the spirit tried to dismiss out of habit (one he definitely inherited from Ichigo and not the soul he once was a thousand years ago). Judging from the eyes he felt on him, he hadn't been successful in his feeble attempt at persuasion. He shifted back to his previous position, with his right knee pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around it.

 'I--Urahara has told you, hasn't he? About how special your soul is; how you are the "perfect hybrid" of the four main races'. Ichigo nodded. 'That is where the--I don't want to say "issue" but my... my confusion, stems from.

'You might have already surmised but the Quincy, unlike Shinigami, do not have a mindscape; they don't have a sentient representation of their powers that can teach them how to wield a bow, or how to perform a technique that is unique to them'. He turned his right wrist, opening up his palm to look at his hand. 'Yet, here I am: a representation of your Quincy heritage and power with a form and mind of my own'.

Clenching his hand into a fist for a moment, the spirit lowered it to play with the folds of his boot. He angled his head, cheek now resting on his knee, so he could look at Ichigo—his meister—who listened to him attentively. 'Do you know how the Quincy came to be?'

'Oh, uhm...No, I don't think anyone told me'.

The spirit hummed. 'Once upon a time, over a thousand years ago, a child was born', he began. 'This child could not see or hear, had no voice to speak with nor the strength to move. However, they could share a piece of their soul with others, who would gain the power to fight against the demons that terrorised their people.

'In return, once those people died—may it have been from illness, age, or violence—their piece of borrowed soul and power would return to the child, gifting him with the skills and strength of the one who had passed'. The spirit eyed Ichigo, 'And if those who were gifted were to give birth in their lifetime, that soul piece would split and pass on to the child'.

Ichigo blinked as he processed the information, 'You mean that... every Quincy has a piece of that child's soul in them?'

The spirit nodded, 'That is correct. It is supposed to merely exist within a Quincy as their source of power but—'

'—that's for a Quincy', Ichigo finished. 'And I'm not just--Are you saying that you are that soul piece?'

The spirit looked away, tightening his hold on his leg.

'But then you aren't--No, that can't be true, Urahara told us that—oh...' Ichigo's eyes widened with realisation, 'That's…that's the problem, isn't it?'

He hummed, 'I... I do remember who I was part of originally; I remember the kind of person I was, my morals, my values, and my goals. Centuries of memories from over a thousand years ago and they are as vivid to me as my short time with you'. A fragile smile dared to appear, 'So you would think that I--that I would know who I am. That I am merely a piece of him, passed over to you, given form due to the unique soul you have'. An empty chuckle full of self-loathing fell off his lips, 'And I was so certain of it that I never even questioned it'.

'But then they claimed I was wrong, that I don't know myself. They made me pull things I thought I knew as fact into question and... well...' The spirit trailed off, drawing senseless shapes in the dirt as a frown formed on his face. 'Bankai... bankai makes it different. I feel more—I don't know... at ease? More certain? No, I... I feel less bothered by the knowledge of what I am'. Their fingers ceased its senseless drawing, digging into the ground as the frown deepened.

They cut through their drawing with a deep, clean line.

'But how can I trust myself when my view changes so easily? How do I know which view is mine—truly, mine—and not a mere result of the other factors at play?' He looked up, finding Ichigo's eyes. 'How do I know who I am?'

'You know that is not a question I can answer for you'.

The spirit let their eyes fall down again, wrapping their arms around their knee once more. 'I wish it were'.

And if that weren't a mood Ichigo recognised himself in. He had asked himself that same question, had asked Yuzu but she had given him the same answer as Ichigo would give the spirit.

'You will need to find the answer yourself'.

'How? How am I supposed to know who I am when my view of myself changes so easily?'

'Does it, though?'

The spirit blinked, taken aback by the question.

'I mean, shikai and bankai...they are just a power-boost in the end, aren't they? It might change how we look and what we can do but they don’t...they don't change who we are', Ichigo tried to explain. 'It’s kinda like…my mask, I guess. When I use that, I get more impulsive and I know I get more ruthless in battle. I will do things I normally wouldn't do because it—I don't know... amplifies things, some of which I don't particularly like about myself'. Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, hoping Zangetsu didn’t take offence to his words if he was listening. 'But it is still me, you know? The mask amplifies things in me but doesn't change who I am; do you get what I’m saying?'

'It—It does, I... I hadn't thought about it like that'.

'Then, maybe, you should take some time and think about it a lot', Ichigo suggested.

The spirit nodded, eyes wandering across the floor as he started to fidget with the cuffs of his sleeves again. 'And what about... what about them?' he asked softly-careful-hesitant; as if afraid he wasn't allowed to be concerned after having caused them such grief.

'I'll go talk with him tonight; don't you worry about it. I want you to focus on figuring yourself out, okay? You can apologise to him later’, Ichigo assured. ‘And if you feel like you need help, like a second opinion, or someone to vent to, or heck, a fight to get your frustrations out, you can always come to me--no matter the time'.

'But what if you—'

'No matter. The. Time', Ichigo repeated sternly. 'I will make time for you—and don't think you will be a burden or something stupid like that. I care about you and I don't mind spending time to help you, you got that?' When the spirit's only response was a belated nod, Ichigo scowled. He knew exactly what was going on in his head and Ichigo was going to take a page from Yuzu's book. 'Repeat what I said back to me'.

That garnered a response. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Repeat what I said back to me'.

'Is that really necessary?'

'Yes, it is'.

Exasperation flickered across the spirit’s features. He crossed his arms, a facsimile of a pout forming on his face—a contained but clear indication that he wasn’t quite happy about this sudden turn of events. Still, he released a sigh as he relented to the request. 'If I need help I can come to you; no matter what, you will make time for me'.

'And?' Ichigo pressed.

'You don't mind spending your time to help me'.

'Because?'

The spirit looked away, fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeve. 'Because you care—' blue flicked to brown and he continued— 'about me and I'm not a...a burden'.

Ichigo's scowl eased, 'Exactly, and don't you forget that'.

'C—Can I leave now?'

Ichigo nodded and allowed the spirit to return. He didn't leave immediately, eying Ichigo for a moment as if contemplating speaking but then looked away, form changing into energy that joined Ichigo's golden aura.

He waited. Waited till he was sure both his spirits had settled before shutting them off from his thoughts. Heaving a deep breath—

'Fuck!'

Hitting his forehead with both palms, Ichigo let himself fall backwards. The ground was unforgiving, small and sharp rocks digging into his spine and scalp. He paid the pain no mind, continuing to abuse himself by hitting his head over and over again in self-reprimand.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!'

Ichigo thought he had learned from his past mistakes; that his year and a half without powers had given him insight; that fighting in a war had matured him. He had thought that, by doing everything over, by taking it slow and doing it the "right" way, he wouldn't make any more missteps at the cost of his Zanpakutō.

Ichigo really is an idiot; he made the same mistake twice.

#

End / To Be Continued

(might add another chapter, not sure yet)

(The character act will be continued in a separate piece…eventually)