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Summary
One moment Ichigo's fighting Yhwach, and the next he's in a whole other universe entirely, one governed by different rules. He couldn't care less what an "omega" is, or the fact that he apparently is one now. He's not about to let it stop him from getting the drop on his enemies for once.
“Tell me, Just Ichigo, what can I, a humble but handsome shopkeeper, possibly help you with?”
Ichigo snorted. He swept past Kisuke and stooped over, recovering the shattered pieces of the teacup. That was something of a curiosity to Kisuke, but he had no time to process it, because in his next breath he came to a startling realisation: the man before him was not an alpha, as his brash attitude suggested, but an omega. An omega who smelled of tart neroli and fresh rain on hot asphalt; of lightning storms and tangy iron—no, of blood. His immense spiritual pressure had masked it until now, but up close, there was no mistaking it. It prickled over Kisuke like static; he yanked his own scent inward with an iron fist.
“Man, this was my favourite cup,” complained Ichigo as he gathered all the pieces together on the counter. “Couldn’t you have broken a different one?”
Series
- Part 1 of bleaching the universe