Chapter Text
Urahara watched with shadowed eyes as Ichigo lay limply on the hospital bed. His human body was badly damaged, and the soul reaper had insisted he die with it. That’s how the small group found themselves surrounding his bedside, watching his heartrate grow slower on the module. They of course knew that this wasn’t the end for Ichigo, but it was the end of his life in the human world, and that was something to mourn. Isshin stood close to his son’s bedside, his face sad as he tried to comfort the twins. They didn’t cry, both knowing they would still be able to see their older brother, but they were distraught that his life ended so abruptly either way.
Kisuke sighed mentally, knowing that there was no other way Ichigo would have gone. Pushing a child out of the way of a speeding truck. It was ironic that he had taken far greater damage in his soul form and came out unscathed, but unfortunately his human body wasn’t so durable.
The beeping of the monitor permeated the silent room, and with a stutter it flatlined. The nurse that had stood quietly in the corner of the small white room went to turn the device off, not bothering to try to resuscitate the young man. If she found it odd that none of them were in tears, she didn’t mention it. She nodded to Isshin and stepped out of the room, giving the small gathering their silence.
A moment passed as they waited for Ichigo to sit up, but Urahara was already uneasy. As soon as his body passed, Ichigo should have already been with them in his soul form. Isshin must have felt the same because he gave the scientist a weary look, his grip tightening on the shoulders of his young girls.
Kisuke met his eyes and he didn’t bother to hide the troubled look he also held. He slipped his hand into his haori and put on his gokon glove. He moved passed them and shoved his hand against Ichigo’s torso.
Nothing happened.
He heard Isshin’s breath hitch, mirrored by his own as he tried again.
Nothing.
Kisuke swallowed back the lump that was forming in his throat, for once his mind unable to come up with a logical conclusion.
“Urahara, what-“
Isshin stepped forwards and shook his son’s body, his breaths coming in sharp.
“Why isn’t he here!?” Isshin’s dark eyes turned to him in a vicious sort of protectiveness, but they faltered when he saw the equally mournful look on the shopkeeper’s face.
“I don’t know.”
The occupants of the room had been following the exchange and once he answered, Orihime burst into tears behind him. All at once everyone began shouting, their devastation at the unknown plain in their words. Kisuke didn’t have an answer for them, not even a single guess. He just shoved his hat further down on his face to hide his stinging eyes.
Ichigo woke with a gasp, his chest heaving as he coughed. He rolled onto his side, his arms bracing his weight as he tried to grab his bearings. His head was hurting, the type of pounding that usually came from a blow that he didn’t manage to dodge. He swiped at his face and flinched at the sting it brought to his head.
Ichigo!
Zangetsu’s voice was frantic, and Ichigo forced himself to open his eyes and look around because that was not a tone he was used to hearing from either of his spirits. He was on a white, smooth floor. There was no light from anywhere and the shadows threatened to press in around him. He calmed his breathing and looked around at the nothingness, at the way the place seemed so familiar. His head pounded again, his eyes closing against the wave of nausea that threatened to take over.
“Zangetsu?” He spoke aloud and his voice fell flat, having nothing to bounce off of. He felt a tug at his power and allowed his Zanpakuto spirits to materialize.
Ossan stood before him, his black cloak eerily still. Ichigo realized then, that he had never seen it lay so limply. His hollow was to Ossan’s left, his face blank as gold eyes stared down at him. As he looked at them, they seemed to wait for him, almost holding their breath.
A gasp left Ichigo as a rush of memories poured in, his eyes widening at the density and feel of them. And just as suddenly as the memories filled him, they stopped, and he lifted his gaze back to his zanpakuto and remembered.
A smile split across both the faces of his zanpakuto, his white counterpart even tilting his head back and letting out a roar of laughter.
“Yes! Yes!” He seemed so carefree and wild, Ichigo couldn’t help but smile back. He was rushed at by both, their arms wrapping around him tight, and he grinned into their embrace.
“Thank you, thank you both so much.” Because now Ichigo could remember their sacrifice. They had been with him millennia ago, even longer maybe. His familiars, his guardians. They had watched as he was betrayed and had shattered their very souls in order to be able to stay with him. Both of them, giving up almost their entire identity to make sure they could stay with him during the endless cycles of reincarnation that he was thrust into.
It was an act so full of devotion that Ichigo couldn’t help but cry, clinging closer to them as he sobbed into their chests. They had always remembered who he was, and cycle after cycle they brought him here to wait and see if he would remember. If his power had recovered enough for him to take up the mantles of his responsibilities once more. Some memories were still far away, but he knew for certain he could trust these two with his life.
“Do you remember your names?” Ichigo asked as he looked at them, a hand on each of their faces and stroking gently. They both shook their head.
“No, it has been too many cycles without you, Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto.” Zangetsu’ ossan’s voice was quiet but held no regret, and still as proper as ever. A rush of breath left Ichigo as he met pale blue eyes, they still swirled with the same intensity he had known so long ago.
A sad smile tugged at his lips, “Yet you remember mine?”
Ossan and Shiro looked at each other, something passing between the two. They turned to face him and spoke as one.
“Always.”
Ichigo felt his heart clench at their loyalty. They were the companions he had with him when the world and he was young. He let out a shuddering breath and turned to each.
“You’re both a part of my soul now, you’re both my precious Zangetsu.” He pretended not to notice to flush of pink that flooded the hollow’s cheeks. It made him curious, how they were still the beings of the mortal realm, but he shook his head of the thoughts for later.
“Ossan,” he nodded his head to the elder looking man. Then he moved his eyes to his doppelganger. “Shiro.”
Shiro snorted in amusement. “You’re still shit at names, king.”
Ichigo chuckled and agreed before pausing and staring at Shiro intently. “Ah, is that why you called me king?” The grumbling denial was his answer.
Ichigo swallowed back a laugh and shook his head in amusement, his orange hair swaying.
“Okay,” he breathed. “I’m ready to learn again. What have I missed?”
Urahara was sitting at the low table in his living room, the teacup that he held in his hands cold. His thoughts were racing, multiple possibilities being made before being swiftly discarded. The room was dark, the sun having dipped long ago, but he hardly noticed. It had been a week since Ichigo died, truly died it seemed. They could not track his soul nor could Kisuke come up with a logical conclusion as to where it was. He was still at a loss, and it frustrated him to no end.
As if someone had heard his frustrations, the door to the quiet room slid open and Kisuke didn’t even bother to look up, knowing Tessai wouldn’t judge him in his haggard state. He idly felt the new occupant sit across from him and Kisuke sighed, ready to ask what his longtime friend needed as he looked up and promptly froze.
There, in front of him was Ichigo. His orange hair was down his back, tied in a simple tail. His bangs covered his face, a face he could not mistake, yet his eyes were a pure silver. Amusement danced in them as the man in front of him tilted his head down in greeting.
“You’re usually more observant geta-boshi, did you miss me so much?” The voice that came out was Ichigo’s, yet it held a ring of something deeper, something more. Urahara was over the table in an instant, Benihime at Ichigo’s throat in the next. His eyes were hard as he stared at the man with Ichigo’s face, his rage surging underneath. Benihime who usually screamed for blood, was oddly quiet, and that alone made him pause.
“Ah, thanks for recognizing me, Benihime.” The imposter spoke without worry in his voice or strain, his silver eyes trailing down Urahara’s sword with a sort of fondness he didn’t expect.
Kisuke’s eyes widened as Ichigo lay a tender hand on his sword, a radiant smile forming on the orange haired man’s face.
Inside his head, Kisuke could hear Benihime purr in contentment and he swiftly removed him blade from Ichigo, staggering back in shock. Benihime never lied to him, and he trusted his zanpakuto with his life. No, more than that.
Urahara removed his hat, unobscurring his view of Ichigo and taking in his appearance once more. Silver earrings dangled from his lobes, they shined with light, as if the stars themselves had allowed him to hang them there. A silver haori and hakama draped his form, shimmering like the moon itself were focused on illuminating it. Urahara noticed then, that the clothes weren’t reflecting the light of the moon, but the glow off of Ichigo’s skin.
His breath left him in a sharp exhale, and he found himself falling to his knees, unable to fight the overwhelming shock. He looked up to meet the silver eyes of his pupil and was pinned under the unwavering stare. His eyes were so similar yet so different, held with an air of confidence and boundless wisdom that Kisuke knew his student hadn’t had.
“Ichigo- what.” His mind was racing, his heart hammering in his chest even as Benihime snag in joy in his mind. Something he had never heard. She was whispering to him, giving him hints and clues, telling him where to look. His zanpakuto had always been one for riddles and it unnerved him that she spoke to him so plainly now.
“Ah, if you don’t get it I’ll be disappointed. You’re the smartest one here after all.” Another smile played across Ichigo’s face, and he stepped forward again, his smile turning teasing as he fixed the overturned table back.
Kisuke calmed himself and took in his appearance yet again, reaching out with his reiatsu to twine it around Ichigo and-
He seized, feeling the pure power that Ichigo was made of. His eyes widened at the flavor of the reiatsu, the density, the feeling of the fabric of the universe.
A choked off cry left his lips at the revelation. No one but gods could have possibly felt similar, he had the right to be surprised, and yet Ichigo had the audacity to laugh. The sound was musical in a way that reminded Kisuke of the base of a guitar and the hum of a saxophone.
“All this time?” Kisuke dove right in, his mind reeling with possibilities even as he moved to sit when gestured. Ichigo shook his head at him.
“No, I didn’t know until recently. My familiars, now my zanpakuto, had always known though. They were waiting for me to wake up. To remember.” As Ichigo spoke, his zanpakuto materialized, and Kisuke noted that they seemed far less broody. The older one in a cloak stood and walked around, coming back minutes later with tea. His movements were smooth and practiced, as if he had done this for thousands of lifetimes. He offered Ichigo a cup with such reverence that Kisuke almost felt as if he were witnessing something more. A cup was given to him also, replacing his cold and spilled one. He quickly took a sip to help calm his racing mind.
“So,” he began, slightly hesitant. He wasn’t sure how much of Ichigo was well, still Ichigo, but he also didn’t want to anger a god with his questions.
“I’m still Ichigo, geta-boshi.”
Kisuke jerked and wondered if Ichigo could read his mind. He looked up and saw the knowing glint in silver eyes and felt is eyes widen for the hundredth time that night. Looks like that was a yes.
“God of what? Actually, what’s your name?” He had so many questions and blurted out the first two that he could manage. He didn’t want to overwhelm his once pupil, but it wasn’t every day that something of this magnitude happened.
Ichigo leaned back and the white doppelganger that Kisuke knew to be his hollow offered himself as a rest for Ichigo to lean on. He couldn’t hide how his eyebrows rose but he picked up his fan and covered his face to the best of his abilities, his sharp grey eyes taking everything in. Either Ichigo didn’t notice their devotion, or the return of his memories didn’t make him question their closeness.
Orange locks parted as Ichigo looked up to study the ceiling, his face contemplative. “Long ago, when the worlds were new, I had no name.”
Kisuke held his breath, the knowledge of Ichigo’s true age already a huge indication.
“The first name given to me was Tsukuyomi.”
Tea went up his nose and he choked, pounding on his chest to free his lungs of the liquid. His fan had fallen with a ‘clack’ on the floor as he heaved. That wasn’t what he had been expecting. Kisuke looked up shakily, just missing the rolling of silver eyes.
“Ichigo is fine now though. This latest cycle, this life. I enjoyed it.” Ichigo leaned back to burrow his head into the crook of the hollow’s neck, and he sighed, body relaxing. Suddenly he jerked, as if remembering something, and cast his wide eyes on Kisuke.
“Urahara! My sisters!”
A soft smile tugged at Kisuke’s lips as he nodded, gathering his fan and hat. “Right,” he stood in one swift movement, Ichigo following, his spirits dematerializing. “Let’s go see them then?” That was a return of normalcy that he could deal with.
Kisuke watched with a soft smile as Karin and Yuzu hugged their brother tightly, silent tears streaming down their faces through clenched eyes. Isshin was staring, wide eyed as he took in the sight of his son. Urahara saw when the man recoiled after feeling the reiatsu that now made up Ichigo. Brown eyes locked onto him but Kisuke shook his head, tilting his hat back to meet Isshin’s gaze before he nodded over to Ichigo. His message was clear.
It's ok.
Later, he left with the kami, leaving behind the family that was content in knowing nothing could possibly harm the reawakened god.
Ichigo padded through the halls of the first division in slight annoyance. Urahara was walking with him, a bounce in his step as he trailed behind him. The grey eyed man had insisted Ichigo tell the soutaichou who he was, even if Ichigo didn’t want anyone else but his family to know. But the man was insistent and convincing, managing to give him scenarios of how Ichigo’s life would be made so much easier if the head captain knew. Eventually Ichigo had relented, god he may be, but he wasn’t all knowing. Kisuke seemed to pick up on that.
He scowled fiercely, following behind the lieutenant of the first. To the shop keeper’s credit, he had done a good job at acting mostly the same at Ichigo’s request, but there were some things that the green clad man had insisted upon for the sake of showing his respect. Like never walking in front of him for one. Ichigo wasn’t sure why, but that one annoyed him the most. Maybe it was because he felt like each time he spoke he was talking to himself. He never had these issues before in his past life, before his betrayal.
Then again, he had never really interacted with anyone besides his familiars. This was a new setting for him and he was constantly reminded that he could no longer remain the same. He let out a heavy sigh as he stepped though the threshold into the office. Sasakibe gave a polite bow to the soutaichou before turning and leaving. When the door closed with a click, a strong barrier engulfed the room, the soutaichou’s fiery reiatsu backing up the ward. Ichigo was impressed, he had suppressed his reiatsu so thoroughly he was sure none could sense it or what he was. Perhaps though, the soutaichou listened to his instincts as well. Slowly, Ichigo uncoiled the tight cocoon of his reiatsu and let it flow freely, not oppressing, but simply there.
The ancient man stood from his seat behind the desk, his eyes wide open and pinned on Ichigo. It was then that he knew it would have been a stupid idea to keep his newfound identify from the soutaichou, the man was smarter than he let on.
Neither said a word as the soutaichou came around his desk, his meek old man façade gone as he stood tall and proud. Once he was in front of Ichigo, refusing to look him in the eye, he sunk to his knees and bowed low. Ichigo held in a sigh, knowing the man would rather kill himself than be rid of the formalities. He gestured with his hand for the man to stand and the soutaichou obeyed without question.
It didn’t necessarily feel wrong to have power over the ancient looking man, because in reality Ichigo was far older than even Yamamoto’s most distant ancestor. If anything, it just reminded him of why he had stayed away from the mortal plane. He longed to leave, but now he had attachments here that pulled at him, and he’d rather die and have his power scattered again than abandon his family.
Once the old man righted himself again, they stared at each other, and Ichigo realized he was waiting for him to speak.
“Ah, I see you know who I am by now. Or at least, know what I am.” He scratched the back of his head and forcefully made himself not read Yamamoto’s thoughts. Kisuke had mentioned that it was unnerving, and he did want to give people their privacy. His stay in the mortal realm had taught him much about being a youth, though it was hard to replace thousands of years of old ideals.
Yamamoto nodded at him but remained quiet. Ichigo’s frown deepened and he sighed again, knowing the man would not talk unless given permission.
“Speak freely, I care little for formalities jii-san” He hoped that by adding the old title the man would relax. It seemed to work somewhat when the captain huffed slightly.
“I take it this is a new development?” Fiery eyes roved over him, taking in his whole appearance with the grace of hundreds of years of nobility.
The question was plain but Ichigo could read under the lines. Were you pretending? He nodded, his longer bangs falling in front of his eyes.
“Yeah, I didn’t know, didn’t remember.” Ichigo looked away towards the small garden that was dyed in the blue light of the moon. “My essence was scattered millennia ago, my familiars found a way to bind themselves to me through my reincarnations. When my power returned, so did my memories. They helped me piece my life back together. I owe them much.” Ichigo closed his eyes, feeling their presences in his soul, smiling at their absolute faith in him.
“Remember, what we wanted to protect, was you Ichigo.”
He let out a shuddering sigh and opened his eyes, meeting the contemplative look of the soutaichou. His large brows were drawn down and the grip on his cane was white-knuckled. It seemed he hadn’t missed what Ichigo had implied.
“Your essence scattered,” the soutaichou repeated, staring at him. Ichigo gave him a tentative nod. The man slumped wearily against his cane, all the years crashing down around him.
“You were betrayed.”
It was a fact, no one could harm Ichigo unless he let his guard down. Ichigo looked back towards the garden, his fists clenching. Even now, his familiars roared with rage inside him, the millennia old wound still raw.
“I was. And while I was away, he made himself a false god with the power he stole from me.” Ichigo didn’t let bitterness enter his tone, but he couldn’t hold back the sorrow. Thousands had died for that goal.
Yamamoto jerked at his words, words that sounded far too similar to what Aizen had wanted. Smoldering eyes met silver and Ichigo shook his head in denial, knowing what the man was thinking.
“No, Aizen was trying to fix it. Aizen truly thought the Shinigami the enemy for what they did to me.” The realization weighed heavy on the soutaichou, he could see it in the way his brows crinkled and the lines in his forehead deepened. The man closed his eyes in understanding, the next words sounding sour.
“He is not the enemy then.” The man continued without opening his eyes and Ichigo didn’t answer, knowing his silence was enough.
Yamamoto opened his eyes, now looking like dull coals, and made his way to the garden door, sitting on the hard wood as he looked for any sense of tranquility. Ichigo followed him after a moment, Urahara, ever quiet, padding behind him.
Ichigo sat down and looked up at the moon, a small smile slipping onto his face as he watched it climb across the sky. The silence between them was heavy, even the calming breeze doing nothing to alleviate the tension.
“Who is your enemy? Our enemy?” Yamamoto didn’t look at him, but his resolve was clear in the tang of his voice.
Ichigo dipped his head in gratitude at the trust. God he may be, but they weren’t exactly inclined to believe him any more than any other being. He slid his gaze back to the old man and got the distinct feeling that he knew who it was already. The tension on his shoulders was mounting and Ichigo almost didn’t have it in him to tell the man his whole life had been a lie.
“The one person Aizen wanted to kill the most,” he began, watching Yamamoto carefully. He could feel Kisuke tense behind him and knew this would also be a revelation for him. Well, it would have been if Kisuke’s sharp intake of breath hadn’t clued him in that he already figured it out.
“The soul king.”
Yamamoto once more closed his eyes, the heat of his reiatsu smoldering around him as his long-kept vow shattered like glass.
“You didn’t know.” Ichigo murmured, resting a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “You protected the Seireitei above all, your sacrifices made this place great and cultivated it for a thousand years.” Slowly, he felt the tension ease from the man as he accepted Ichigo’s words with a nod.
Ichigo turned back to Urahara who was as pale as stone, his grey eyes focused on the sky where the soul palace would be. The man blinked and focused on Ichigo, the anger smoldering deep in his eyes.
“Ichigo, I hate Aizen with every ounce of my being but,” Urahara swallowed, and he had to force the next words out. “But if he knew this, knew why. Then…I can understand his own hatred.” Kisuke brought his hat down, covering his eyes. The sharp frown on his face was not so easily hidden though.
Ichigo smiled at him, a gesture the shopkeeper could not see, and grabbed the young being by his chin, causing him jolt in surprise. Ichigo made Kisuke meet his gaze and the blonde man did not fight him.
“You’re a better person than you think, Kisuke.” Grey eyes widened and Ichigo smiled at him as he let go, turning back to the garden and letting the man figure out his feelings. A part of him still saw the man as his sensei, but as days passed the memories seemed more vague, less impactful. Still, Ichigo’s feelings for him were strong, and he would not abandon those who he held dear, even if his memories insisted that he, Ichigo, was the one who should be the mentor.
“Aizen was fighting for what he thought was right, Kisuke. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have found a better way of doing it. Acceptance is not forgiveness.” He spoke as he settled himself back into a more comfortable spot, knowing the man was wise enough to already know his words and their meaning.
Yamamoto’s quiet voice broke him out of his thoughts.
“What should I call you?”
Another loaded question. Ichigo hummed and tilted his head, wondering if the man would take this revelation better than Urahara had. “In this reincarnation, I am Ichigo.”
Yamamoto remained silent and Ichigo gave him a huff before continuing. “In my past, my first name was Tsukuyomi.”
Ichigo heard Urahara fall face first into the floor before he felt the smoldering heat of Yamamoto’s surprised flare of reiatsu. He absently surrounded the shop keeper with his own power so he would not be harmed by the flickering flames that licked out from the soutaichou. He heard Urahara take in shaky puffs of air and almost laughed as the ancient Shinigami tried to rein in his power. If anything, his reaction was far worse than Kisuke’s.
Once the air settled they remained quiet. The burned edges of wood the only evidence that anything had happened.
“People don’t know who you are.” Yamamoto was staring at him and the clothes he wore as well as his glowing skin.
Ichigo shook his head in a no. “They see what they want to see, young eyes are easily fooled. You were not.”
Yamamoto nodded in acceptance. “Tsukuyomi-sama, what shall you do now?”
Ichigo frowned at the formalities but resigned himself to this fate. “Talk to Aizen maybe, help him see the error of doing things as he did. But,” Ichigo paused, noting that the room had gone completely quiet. “I think he will stay in Muken until he can prove himself to be trustworthy to those around him.” Because truly, even if Ichigo could read the man’s heart, he couldn’t expect everyone else to simply accept the man just because he said so. Either way, he was sure Aizen would understand. Though, he might make his stay in the cell more comfortable.
Cool air fluttered past him and into the office open to the garden. Leaves shook on old branches and Ichigo inhaled deeply, taking in all the scents of the night. His gaze trailed up to the crescent moon, not minding that his companions were lost in their own thoughts. A frown marred his face as he looked closer at the glowing orb in the sky, his head tilting in thought.
“Something wrong?” Urahara scooted closer to sit on his right, opposite of the soutaichou. Grey eyes peered at him with unhidden curiosity and Ichigo nodded his head.
“I’m unsure how long I’ve been gone” he started, pausing when his familiars, now zanpakuto, whispered to him in his mind. His eyes widened.
“Ichigo?”
His attention snapped back to Kisuke who was now looking at him with furrowed brows and a frown.
“Sorry,” he muttered, glancing back at the moon. “They just told me. It’s been about 5,000 years.” Ichigo pursed his lips, his frown deepening as he stared at the sky.
“Does the moon look small to you?” He asked suddenly, vaguely gesturing with his hand. Urahara looked startled by the question but shook his head.
“No, it’s the same as it has always been. As far as I’m concerned in our written history, it has not changed.”
Ichigo hummed and stood, stepping into the cool grass of the garden and past the tree that rustled. He ignored Yamamoto and Urahara as they followed behind, their souls practically screaming in curiosity. Ichigo lifted his right hand towards the moon, feeling the distortion of reality, looking for the strings that guided his domain in its path. As an afterthought he spoke over his shoulder, his gaze never leaving the glowing orb. “Brace yourselves.”
A kido barrier went up around them. Satisfied, Ichigo tugged at the strings of the universe, his fingers finding purchase in well worn groves. His reiatsu unfurled around him and he brought his other hand to his right, pulling the rope taunt. To his eyes, it shone a brilliant hue, the power being fed into it was his own. He pulled, bringing the lengths of the rope closer and wrapping it around his forearm, watching as the moon began to grow larger in the sky with each tug. In his absence it had drifted away, only held weakly by the tie it held to his soul. The roar of his power blocked all sound from him as he fed more reiatsu into the rope, strengthening the bond once more. Once he was satisfied, he lowered his hands and the rope disappeared from sight. The moon was larger in the sky, its glow brighter and casting more light onto the land, drenching everything in a cool, white hue that was tinged with blue.
Ichigo turned back to face the silent men and raised a brow when he saw Urahara panting for air on his hands and knees. Yamamoto had faired better, the elder was on one knee and his grip was white knuckled on his cane as he leaned on it heavily for support. He moved forward to help them stand, gently raising each and giving them a once over. He hadn’t meant to hurt them, in fact he had thought he held back quite well. Zangetsu whispered in his mind, telling him he had held back, but that there was only so much he could do when influencing his domain. Ichigo made sure to thank them mentally for the information, they were more used to the mortal realm than he, so they would know the effects his powers would have on it the best.
“Sorry” he murmured once they had caught their breaths and breathed easier. “I thought I held back enough.”
Kisuke coughed and gave him a weary smile. “My, my, seems it wouldn’t take any effort at all for you to accidentally kills us.” His tone was light and there was a goofy smile on his face, but Kisuke couldn’t hide how his soul shivered away from him.
He didn’t mention it, just smiled weakly and nodded, changing the topic. “Do you think they’ll notice?” He gestured towards the sky.
“No doubt.” It was the soutaichou who answered him this time, his eyes open and looking up at the moon. “It is significantly larger.”
Ichigo pursed his lips but was unwilling to be sorry about what he had done. “We’ll figure something out.” He shrugged easily. “Since we are about done here, I’ll go talk to Aizen. I’ll be seeing you.” The fabric of reality pulled towards Ichigo, distorting his figure before he was suddenly gone.
Urahara raised his brows in surprise, looking at the empty space Ichigo had once occupied. He glanced at Yamamoto from the corner of his eyes and saw the man shake his head.
“We will speak later, Urahara Kisuke.” The ancient man dismissed him and walked back into his office, sealing the door with a snap.
Aizen was startled when a soft voice spoke in greeting. He tensed, his senses screaming. He hadn’t even heard the heavy metal door open to announce a visitor into his cell. How then was it possible that someone was in there with him? He narrowed his eyes behind the black visor he wore and strained his ears.
“Can’t be comfortable sitting like that.” The voice called closer this time.
Aizen felt his brows raise in surprise as Ichigo’s voice flooded the room. He felt the wrap around his mouth melt away and he wondered how the boy had managed it. He tried to speak, but a rough cough ripped its way though his throat from disuse. He nearly growled in frustration but was surprised when a gentle hand cupped his chin and water was brought to his mouth. This could be another attempt to kill him no matter how in vain it may be.
As if reading his thoughts, Ichigo answered with humor in his voice. “Its just water. Drink enough, we need to speak.”
Aizen obeyed, not because he was assured or told to, but because he had his own burning questions.
“Better?”
“Quite.” His voice still came out rough, but he was satisfied that he was able to speak.
“Now, why have you chosen to come here after all this time, Kurosaki?” Aizen didn’t really care for the answer, he could hazard a few guesses that were more than likely spot on. He heard the hybrid humm, the sound richer than he remembered.
“I figured out why you were fighting, Sosuke.”
Aizen stilled further than he thought possible, even with the bindings holding him. This was one possibility he had not envisioned. He wondered if they boy would turn to his side then, and help him bring justice onto those who had betrayed their god. After all, it was the same reason Tosen had chosen to follow him in his rightful path. Once the blind man had heard of the treachery, he could no longer stand for what the goeti-13 had represented. Aizen chastised himself, knowing that couldn’t possibly be the case. The boy was far too young and naive to trust the ancient texts they had stumbled upon. With his lack of control, he was sure the Kurosaki boy hadn’t been able to feel the divinity within them.
Aizen was ripped from his thoughts when another binding was loosened from his face. He blinked, his eyes having to adjust to the meager light that was in his cell. An orange blur was all he saw before his vision focused and he locked his brown eyes with silver. He paused, sure that Kurosaki had brown eyes the color of honey. He had been up close and personal with them after all, behind his edge of his blade.
To his bafflement, a smile graced his features even as silver eyes grew heavy with sorrow.
“Oh Sosuke, I appreciate what you have done for me. Truly. But you were also misguided by incomplete truths.” The teen spoke softly, but somehow the words cut deep.
Aizen narrowed his eyes, unsure as to why he was being sympathized with and angry that the Kurosaki boy thought his cause misled.
“And what do you know of my intentions, boy? You’re far too young to know of what you speak, and even if it were to be in front of you, no understanding would come. You follow those Shinigami blindly and trust in their cause, but have you ever questioned it?” His condescending tone was harsh, and he hoped to rile the young man up, but was disappointed when he got another sad smile. As if Kurosaki knew more than him. He also didn’t fail to notice that the boy was using his first name, as if trying to grow closer to him by doing so. The thought itself was preposterous because he couldn’t figure out his motives, but Aizen was sure that was exactly what was going on.
“Ah, I see. You’re much too young to lift the veil of illusions by yourself.”
Aizen bristled, his anger flaring. He was the master of illusions, a near god in their weave. To be spoken to about them as if he couldn’t comprehend them had him raging. He was also far older than the boy, it should be he who should be talking in such a way. Ichigo seemed to pick up on his as he paused and gripped his chin tightly. He tried to recoil away, but the bindings held.
“Let me show you then, Sosuke.”
There was a certain finality in his voice and Aizen felt his eyes widen at Ichigo’s next words.
“Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu”
His zanpakuto, who he had abandoned and had sealed away, who had grown quiet and angry at his dismissal, sung in his mind. Aizen jolted, his muscles straining as his zanpakuto laughed in merriment, her being spreading though him once more. Kyoka was once more a strong presence in his mind, a prideful woman with no equal. Yet, he felt her very will submit to the boy in front of him.
“What-” he couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Ichigo had somehow brought her back from the depths of her seal. Had called to her in a way that only ever worked for him, and even more, she had responded more eagerly to Kurosaki than she ever did him.
A whisper of words filled his mind, each punctuated by laughter that sung of a lightness he hadn’t felt since he was a boy.
“Look at him, truly look at him, what do you see?”
Aizen blinked and brought his focus back to the material world. Ichigo was staring at him with silver eyes that seemed to pierce his soul. Aizen looked, his mind taking in the tiny details. Ichigo was far too still, he had no wasted movements and his presence was untraceable. Earrings hung from his lobes and Aizen could see they themselves were made of reiatsu. He focused harder when he heard Kyoka Suigetsu mock his abilities.
“Do you see me yet, Sosuke?”
The air escaped his lungs unwillingly, his surprise ripping it from his being. His eyes widened from their narrowed, focused look and he brought his trailing gaze back up to meet the silver eyes of the god. He choked, his heart pounding loudly. This was no imitation, not like the soul king. The being in front of him was woven from the fabric of the universe and felt far older than even the sereti itself. Aizen was arrogant, prideful, and narcissistic, but he was far from a fool. Even he knew his place. He bowed his head as much as he could, an inch or two, and close his eyes, hoping he conveyed as much respect as he could.
His mind was reeling, unsure how Kurosaki had become a god, or why a god was impersonating him. Those were the only two options, but he heavily leaned towards the first.
“Look at me, Sosuke.”
And so he did, knowing that this had been his life’s work. The god in front of him could help him seek his vengeance against one of his brethren. He was surprised when Ichigo tilted his head back and laughed, his voice rich and full like the lull of a wave.
“You’ve finally figured part of it out!”
This man sounded like the Kurosaki that he knew yet some of his mannerisms threw Aizen off. He knew the teen wasn’t one for such free expression, so he came to the only logical conclusion.
“Why do you impersonate Kurosaki Ichigo?” Was it because the god knew Aizen had a deep fascination with the young man? The god tilted his head to the side and frowned, his orange hair lulling to the side with the tug of gravity.
“You think I’m an imposter? Huh, I didn’t plan for that.” Ichigo moved away and Aizen found himself suddenly missing the warmth that the god had blessed his being in. He couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted in himself though, it was simply the nature of the true gods.
“Then you’re saying you are truly Kurosaki Ichigo?”
The ‘imposter’ nodded, his frown lightening. “In this cycle of my reincarnation I was born as Ichigo. I have finally regained my powers upon my death and with it, my memory. Thank you, Sosuke” Ichigo’s silver gaze bore into him and he felt as if his very soul was lain bare to his eyes.
“You could feel the truth of the words, the wrongness in the world, power stolen.”
Aizen held his breath, his mind racing as the pieces began to fit together. It couldn’t be.
“I wouldn’t say you went about it the best way, but your sympathy for me was absolute. I cannot fault such dedication.”
He stilled impossibly more. Any words that had wanted to come out were caught in his throat, choked before they could even form. It felt as if his very heart had stuttered to a stop at the simple declaration. This was Aizen’s god. The god that Kyoka Suigetsu reflected in his very soul, the moon rippling along the koi pond. He could hardly get the words out in his disbelief.
“Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto”
The blinding smile that the god gave him seemed wrong on the teen’s face, but he couldn’t argue at its radiance. The god he had so long fought to avenge stood before him, whole and returned to his former glory in his latest reincarnation. A reincarnation that he had experimented on, toyed with, and finally attempted to kill. Aizen thought he was going to be ill.
“None of that now, none of us knew. I hold nothing against you.” Ichigo paused. “Okay well maybe some- a lot of people didn’t to deserve to die, but I can understand being blinded by grief.” Ichigo frowned and began to tug away the rest of his bindings. “Though it doesn’t mean I can condone it.”
Aizen flexed his limbs and stood once the god in front of him melted his bindings away, his awe at the being in front of him growing.
“Give me the Hogyoku, Sosuke.”
Aizen knew an order when he heard one. Long ago he had vowed to never be under the rule of anyone, but that was only when he had figured out the soul king was a false god. This was different and Kyoka Suigetsu agreed with him. Even his own embodiment of pride willingly bowed to the greatness of the man before him.
“As you wish it.” And he reached into his chest and pulled the cursed babble out, knowing he was giving away his immortality with it, making himself vulnerable to the punishment of Central 46.
Ichigo took the pale marble from his fingers and at his touch, it disintegrated into ash.
“The souls you trapped inside are not lost, they will return to the cycle of reincarnation as they should have upon their death. He swallowed and nodded, bowing his head and pursing his lips. A hand on his shoulder made his gaze snap up just as Ichigo began to speak.
“From now on, you shall be my servant.”
In another time, Aizen would have bristled, but he knew this was an honor that wasn’t bestowed upon many. It showed a trust, a sense of vulnerability to the god. The so called soul king had once been a servant and it made Aizen furious to think such a betrayal could have occurred. “From now on you are mind to command, and mind to punish. Alone.”
His eyes widened in understanding. Central 46 nor the Gotei would be able to touch him, least they wish to be on the bad side of a god.
“I’m not saying what you did was right, but I can understand it. Yet, others must also be appeased with this action. Show your loyalty to me publicly Aizen, and they may believe your cause just.” Ichigo spoke with a finality and a sense of resignation. Aizen understood the words left unsaid. To abandon his pride and serve the man who he had done everything for, and maybe the others would also come to understand his actions. It was well thought, knowing that Aizen was prideful above all. This certainly wasn’t the action of a teenager, and as Aizen stared into silver eyes he could see the millennia of years behind them. He nodded, understanding his role. Ichigo smiled at him.
“Good. Now begins your repentance, stay here and wait. I will return when you are needed.”
Aizen blinked and found himself alone in the cell once more. The light that had illuminated also disappeared and with a start, he realized that it was Ichigo who had been the source. He sat back on his chair heavily, his mind racing at the new revelations.