Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Kisuke woke to the feel of daggers dragging down his skin. He hissed and swatted a fluffy appendage away, his eyes tracing the annoyed flick of a tail. Golden eyes bore into him, claws kneading on his stomach as Yoruichi spoke, wasting no time.

“Why did I have to hear from a secondhand source that my dearest” her claws tightened, drawing a thin line of blood. “Friend had come to soul society to speak with the soutaichou?”

Kisuke gulped, wishing he had his fan near him as he stared down at his long time friend who was looking at him with bristling black fur.

“Ah Yoruichi-san!” He plastered on his goofy smile, ignoring how her claws flexed. “It was quite last minute you see, I was caught off guard.”

Golden eyes narrowed but he felt her claws retreat into the pads of her toes.

“Oh? Do tell.”

Kisuke hesitated for less than a moment, but Yoruichi had been with him far too long to know all of his subtle tics. She frowned, knowing he wouldn’t hide things from her unless necessary.

“What is it Kisuke?” She moved off his stomach and made herself comfortable next to his side, her gaze now curious.

Kisuke sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, his false smile falling away. He glanced out the window and noted that it was still dark out, he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep. He debated on telling her, his loyalty to his friend was strong but he was also unwilling to displease a god. Thankfully, Yoruichi didn’t pester him, knowing that he needed to sort his brain out.

Ultimately, he came to the conclusion that if Ichigo didn’t want him to tell Yoruichi, he would have told him as much. Ichigo knew Kisuke and Yoruichi were a package deal, both having gone through too much with each other to not be able to confide in heavy secrets.

“I met a god” he stated simply, knowing it was best to just get it out in the open. He was too tired to give riddles and banter. He glanced at her and saw she was looking at him with wide eyes, her pupils blown open and tail thrashing.

Kisuke continued once it seemed she processed the information just enough. “He is an old god, his essence was scattered until now.” Kisuke waited as Yoruichi opened and closed her mouth several times, her little fangs peeking through. With a blink, she had composed herself and wore a from on her face to cover her confusion.

“But how did you come to meet him? Why you? Why would a god, in his weakened state no doubt, go to you?”

It was an honest question and Kisuke couldn’t fault Yoruichi for thinking it. He would have also been the last choice. This was different though.

“He knows us Yoruichi, we know him.”

The black cat stood and began pacing around the room, her ears drawn back. She paused and turned from the floor and back to him, her forehead furrowed. “Why now?”

Kisuke blinked, surprised that she hadn’t demanded his identity but shrugged it off and plowed on. “Like I said, he got his powers back. With them came his memory.”

She nodded at him as if accepting the answer and sat back down again, her eyes focused on the floor. Kisuke felt his brows furrow as he watched her, noting the tension held in her tiny form and the way her fur was ruffled and on end.

“You’re not going to ask who?” She didn’t respond. Kisuke folded his legs, patiently waiting.

Her voice was uncharacteristically low when she did speak. “Is it weird, that I’m almost scared to find out?”

He shook his head immediately. “No, I understand what you mean.”

Yoruichi nodded and gazed up at him, her body going lax, as if accepting the situation with as much grace as she could muster. “Okay, who?”

Kisuke pursed his lips and wished he had his camera on him. “Ichigo”

A choked off yowl filled the air and Kisuke had to try very hard to hold back the bubbling laughter. Her fur was bristled, back arched, and Kisuke wondered if he could ger her to pose like that for him on Halloween.

“You have to be joking!” She was pacing again, her breathing coming in fast. “I- HOW!”

Kisuke shrugged helplessly. “It hasn’t been long, I don’t have all the answers yet.”  The room descended into quiet once more and the blonde yawned, flopping back down on his futon and dragging his covers up. He would let Yoruichi deal with the rest, he was too tired to care. He jerked when a paw swatted at his face and he grumbled under his breath. Grey eyes opened reluctantly, and he gave her a halfhearted glare.

“You said he was an old god,” she paused, hesitating. “What is he the god of?”

Kisuke debated on waiting to tell her. He really wanted his camera. She swatted at him again and this time let her claws graze across his face, just enough to warn.

He yawned and stubbornly tucked the sheets under his chin, staring at her lazily. “Tsukuyomi.”

A golden eye twitched. Yoruichi pointedly turned away and hopped onto the windowsill, her tail a thrashing blur behind her. “Sleep Kisuke.”

He obeyed without complaint.

Ichigo hummed as he padded down the halls of the 13^th division, his gaze flickering from the sprawling gardens to the small training grounds that separated them. Men yelled in unison as they performed their exercises, some groups clearly more advanced than the others. He knew where the captain’s quarters were located, but he wasn’t here to ask about Rukia. Not today anyways. He absently wondered if the two older Shinigami would be able to tell if something was off about him. They were old yes, but still far younger than Yamamoto. Ichigo supposed that the only way to find out was to go talk to them. It would make what he was about to do easier if they could tell by themselves.

Ichigo knocked on the shoji door that he came upon and waited patiently, hearing Shunsui’s loud snores even from outside.

“Come in,” Ukitake’s naturally kind voice filtered through, and Ichigo stepped in, nodding to him in greeting.

“Hey, Ukitake-san.”

The white haired man looked up at the sound of his voice and froze momentarily, his eyes crinkling at the edges. It was not the welcome Ichigo had expected but it was something. He waited patiently as the man assessed him and saw a rare frown mar his face.

“Ichigo?” His voice was questioning but there was a hard edge to it that would have made him nervous before. As if sensing the change in the air, Shunsui snapped his eyes open and immediately locked onto him. He stiffened and sat up, his eyes narrowed even as he wore a cautious smile on his face.

“Ma, ma Kurosaki-san, what brings you here?” Shunsui placed his straw hat back on his head but Ichigo didn’t miss how his eyes never left him.

“Ah, you notice a difference I presume?” Ichigo internally winced, knowing he wasn’t exactly speaking like the teenager he had been. It didn’t go unnoticed either if Ukitake’s tight smile was anything to go by.

“A difference,” Shunsui hummed. “You could say that. If you wanted to impersonate someone though, you should at least make the reiatsu closer to the original.” Brown eyes bore into him, assessing.

Ichigo bit his lip, slowly raising his hands up in surrender and trying to tell them he meant no harm. “I already spoke to Yama-jii, if you want you can ask him yourself. I can wait.”

The two exchanged a quick look before Ukitake brought a butterfly to his face, whispering a message and watching as it fluttered off. Ichigo nodded to him in thanks and plopped down on the floor where he stood, watching the stack of paperwork on Ukitake’s desk warily.

“What brings you here.” Shunsui spoke, his gaze searching.

Ichigo was fine with that, he knew the two captains didn’t exactly trust him yet, thinking he was someone else. It only made sense for him to try to gather his motives just in case his story didn’t line up.

“I’m here to talk to Ukitake actually,” as he spoke another butterfly fluttered in and a smile split the white-haired man’s face as he finished listening to the message.

“Sorry Ichigo,” he started. “You just felt…off.” Ukitake gave him a kind smile, prompting Kyoraku to relax.

Ichigo gave him a small smile back, nodding in understanding. “I know, its fine.”

The tension drained away from the room and Shunsui patted the seat next to him. “Come, the floor can’t be that comfortable.”

Once they were resettled, Ichigo ran a hand though his hair and let out a sigh, deciding that he would have to be truthful with them if he wanted to help.

“I need you two to listen, Yamamoto is already informed about this,” Ichigo gestured to himself. “Can you put up a barrier?”

Shunsui furrowed his brows but obliged, muttering the spell under his breath. Once Ichigo felt it encase the room he began again.

“I-“ he paused, debating, before deciding to just dive in. He blamed his most recent life for his impatience. “I have been through the cycle of reincarnation for several millennia, regathering my strength. My memories have come back recently.”

They both stared at him with dumbfounded and almost disbelieving expressions. They exchanged another silent look and motioned for him to continue. He took that as a good sign.

“My familiars waited for me at the end of each life, seeing if I would be able to remember before they helped me back to my true self.” Ichigo pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side, his orange hair feathering across his face. He looked towards the window, admiring the early morning light that shone through before turning to Ukitake, carefully avoiding his gaze.

“In short, I have always been a god, but I had no memory of it. My soul was too weak and my powers took too long to regather because of the nature of my domain.” He silently nodded to himself and his familiars spoke words of encouragement in his mind. He pretended not to notice the look Ukitake and Shunsui both exchanged once more, the silent conversation they seemed to have.

“Yama-jii knows?” The gentle captain asked almost hesitantly. Ichigo nodded in confirmation. The man sighed and a weary smile stretched across his face. “I believe it then, far stranger has happened to me after all.” Shunsui nodded his agreement at the statement.

A frown twisted at Ichigo’s lips and he decided that was the opening he needed. “That’s actually what I’m here to talk about. Mimihagi.” He ignored how they both stiffened at the name and continued. “The thing inside you is no god, it’s a parasite that needed your reiatsu to survive. I want to take it out.”

Shunsui was on his feet in an instant, his gaze hard. “Ichigo, do you understand what you’re saying!?”

He nodded, having expected the anger. “A god doesn’t need an exchange, that is no god.” He moved his gaze from the bristling Shunsui to the pale Ukitake. “I don’t need such an exchange. Not for you. I’ll kill Mimihagi and you’ll live fully, healthily.” His voice was firm in this, he would not let Ukitake refuse him because one way or another, the piece of the false god had to die. It just happened to be a bonus that Ukitake would also be cured from it.

Brown eyes looked at him hesitantly, as if he wanted to believe Ichigo but still held reservations. “Ichigo, can-“ the captain of the 13^th paused, as if realizing what he was asking. “Can you prove it to us first? Forgive me for questioning you but-“

Ichigo waved him off and nodded, standing from the couch and pausing beside a disbelieving Shunsui. Ichigo couldn’t blame him, the man cared for his friend more than his own life. He stilled momentarily and scratched the back of his head, a light dust of pink on his cheeks.

“Ah, actually I don’t know what I should do?” He let out a half laugh, shifting on his feet now that he had to present himself to them fully.

“Something easy?” Shunsui suggested and took a step back from him, giving him space.

Zangetsu fluttered an idea through his head and he almost smacked himself. Without warning, he brought his hands up in front of him and tugged at the fabric of the universe. The air grew heavy with his power and he absently noticed Shunsui fall to his knees. Ukitake was hunched over his desk and they were both breathing heavily.

“Watch,” Ichigo commanded, his voice distorted. Reality rippled in front of them, and Ichigo manipulated the room, making the floorboards turn sideways, the very grain in them moving to his will. The couch he had just sat upon slowly lost its earthly color, turning white and the threads puffing back out into the cotton they had been made from. Strips of wood began to peel and curl off the walls, the roof groaning under the strain.

Enough, Ichigo.

He stilled, the voice of his familiar was unrelenting, and he blinked away his haze of power, calling it back into himself. He looked towards the two men and realized why he was told to stop. Without his real knowing, he had begun to unwind what made them. He could see it in how their clothes had begun to fray and shift, but thankfully their bodies were intact. It had been too long since he was forced to deal with mortals, and with the full knowledge of who he was, their fragility was already a fleeting thought in his mind. It was a disturbing realization.

Shunsui stood on shaky legs, glancing at his black uniform and where it was unstitched to the curled walls  and rearranged wood of the floor. His gaze previously disbelieving now held hope as he took in a shuddering breath. A wide smile was on Ukitake’s lips as he gazed at Ichigo, standing stiffly to walk to his side.

“Amazing,” brown eyes looked at him reverently and Ichigo scowled.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He forced his gaze away, frown deepening when Ukitake seemed bewildered. “Come on lets get this over with.” He sat on the floor where he stood and gestured for the white-haired man to do the same. Shunsui sat close to his best friend and placed his large hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“This might hurt.” Ichigo spoke even as he reached forward, glad that the man didn’t flinch away. He lay his hand flat against Ukitake’s chest, furrowing his brows as he felt the false god nibble away at his lifeforce. He sneered, his eyes darkening in anger. In his mindscape, his familiars boiled with rage, their howling voices begging for vengeance. Ichigo took in a calming breath and plunged his hand into Jushiro’s soul, the man going ridged, every muscle tense as he grit his teeth in pain. He absently noticed Shunsui grip his friend tightly by the shoulders, helping him stay upright even as he watched on in horror.

Ichigo didn’t let it deter him, knowing the man would be better off once he was done. Minihagi was clutching to the fraying edges of the reality he had seeped himself into, trying to hide further in the man’s soul. Unfortunately for him, Ichigo was one of the elder gods and very few could ever hope to run from his wrath. He gripped the slimy appendage and let his power burst at his palm, scorching the thing from the inside and healing the damage done. A flash of light burst forth from Jushiro’s chest and he screamed in agony, his body convulsing.

Not a moment later did he hear the door slam open and frantic voices wafted in. He heard his name called but ignored it, making his presence heavy and blocking anyone but Shunsui and Jushiro from approaching him. A few agonizing seconds later and Jushiro slumped forward, breathing hard. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat and Ichigo removed his hand from his chest, making sure he put more of his power into the man’s lungs to help them heal faster.

Shunsui shot him a worried look but he smiled in reassurance. “He’s fine. He should feel better than ever in a few moments.”

This was a win-win, Jushiro was free from his illness and Ichigo got the first taste of his vengeance. Minihagi’s spirit had burned black under his righteous fury, his touch scorching. But unfortunately, he no longer had the element of surprise, the spirit king no doubt felt that part of him burned away. It didn’t matter either way, the false god would die, but not by his hands.

Ichigo stood and turned, facing the startled third seats and a wide-eyed Rukia. “He’s going to be fine. Sorry but I can’t stay.” He nodded at them and brushed passed, glancing over his shoulder to see Ukitake give him a weak smile in thanks.

He left the thirteenth division, wondering how much of his plan he should inform the soutaichou of. He pursed his lips, his thoughts trailing towards those he knew that were loyal to him. It would be difficult to inform the ancient man, even more so than what he had told him of already. Ichigo groaned and slammed his palm against his face, dragging it down in exasperation.

“Maa Kurosaki-san. You seem frustrated.”

Ichigo snorted and turned to meet Kisuke’s gaze. The man was still a ways off and had his fan hiding his face. The shadows his hat cast were enough to cover his eyes and Ichigo rolled his own as he met up with him in some random street of Seireitei.

“Yeah yeah. Shit’s complicated.” He frowned and wondered if Kisuke could help him by being impartial. “Hey, if I wanted to introduce a long time enemy of soul society as one of my followers, how well do you think the old man would take it?” Ichigo watched as Urahara’s brows rose high on his head, a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“I’d say,” the blonde stepped forward, flapping his fan absently as he looked up towards the clear sky, grey eyes alight with mirth. “That he would kill you for even suggesting it, however, considering your new status, that thought no longer applies.” Kisuke flicked his eyes back towards him and the shadows of his hat covered his gaze when he tilted his head down. “In fact, I am quite positive he will shove aside any matters of his opinions and do as you say. After all, as strange as it feels to say this, you are the elder and therefore must be wiser. In his mind anyways.” His fan snapped shut and he tucked his arms into the sleeves of his haori, bending forward and into his personal space. Ichigo didn’t move away.

“Now why would you ask?”

Ichigo could see the intense curiosity in the man and he was almost impressed at how calm he sounded. He pursed his lips, debating on whether or not to tell him before deciding against it. He turned around and motioned for him to follow, still hating how Kisuke insisted on walking a step behind him.

“I suppose you’ll find out, but not yet, not here.”

There was silence between them for a few moments, only the whistle of the wind and ruffling of leaves audible.

“Is it about Aizen?”

Ichigo purposefully didn’t look back, but he smirked at his teacher’s inability to hold back his curiosity, knowing his answer would only make the man more curious than he already was.

“No.”

Yamamoto leaned heavily against his cane, watching through slitted eyes as his captains and lieutenants  filtered in through the great double doors. He had called a meeting via hell butterfly after confirming with the new god that he was fine being introduced. Yamamoto would hand over his zanpakuto to the keepers of hell before he let any of his men and woman disrespect the god. Unfortunately, in order for a such to happen the man would have to be paraded around, something he was distinctly aware Kurosaki Ichigo would have hated. Now though, he was unsure, but some ingrained fatherly instinct in him told him that the man would remain mostly the same in that aspect.

He let his gaze slide over to Shunsui and Jushiro, raising a silent brow at their beaming expressions and the delighted face Unohana had on as well. Clearly something big had happened, and judging from their faces, it was in the form of a lifted weight off their shoulders. Yamamoto flicked his eyes away and noted that everyone was now present, so he raised his cane and slammed it down with a bang, immediately silencing those in the room.

“We shall now commence this meeting!” He noted that his men stood straighter, their postures stiff with pride and eyes curious. It had been on short notice after all. He had briefly wondered if he should have waited for the god, but decided that if he wasn’t here yet, then he obviously had something planned. After all, the man could apparently warp through reality itself.

“There has been a discovery made yesterday that will echo through the annals of the Seireitei for millennia to come” he pointedly looked at captain Kuchiki, the clan head whose job it was to ensure the law and order be followed. Byakuya didn’t disappoint, he swiftly withdrew parchment from within his haori and kneeled at his spot, quill at the ready and eyes slightly widened, the only sign of his surprise. The last time such things had occurred had been during the time of his grandfather when the zero squad had come from the royal realm and laid down new laws.  

Satisfied with the young captain’s response, he grunted and continued, meeting the gaze of each captain so they knew the seriousness of the situation. He truly didn’t know how to break the news, how could he? Never in his lifetime had something like this occurred, and he bitterly knew why now. His hand tightened around his cane minutely and a flash of fire coursed through his bones at the mountain of deceit his society now laid upon. No, he couldn’t think of it that way. He took a deep breath and several eyebrows rose at his obvious mood, now slightly worried about what they were going to hear.

He let the breath out and in that same moment, broke the tension. “A god has graced us with his presence.” He noted how Byakuya jerked from his spot on the ground as well as heard the captains’ collective gasp. Now, absolute silence reigned as they all stared at him with large eyes and mouths agape. The only ones who didn’t seem to be as surprised were Jushiro and Shunsui.

When no one could even come up with a question or even a response, he plowed on, unwilling to talk through the chaos that was sure to erupt soon. “This meeting has been called to inform everyone to mind their tongue,” he didn’t think most of them needed it, but his gaze slipped to the frowning Kenpachi and he decided it would be better to warn them all regardless. He flared his reiatsu, making sure his sincerity and aggression were present in its swell, barring down on everyone in the room. “If I hear a rumor of disrespect towards him, I will have you before central 46 before you can finish your sentence.” He opened his eyes fully, standing to his full height and bringing his reiatsu to crushing levels, ignoring how the lieutenants started to fall and how the captains quaked under the weight. He let up abruptly, but he could see his message was clear.

Earlier

Urahara observed as Ichigo walked with his head tilted back towards the sun, a slight smile on his face and hands tucked in his silver haori. The streets of the Seireitei were quiet and mostly deserted, and it seemed like whoever they passed did not recognize Ichigo for what he was. He wondered how he did that. He walked just a step behind him, so Kisuke was able to see the hell butterfly that came and fluttered in the breeze, patiently waiting for Ichigo to listen. A hand was lifted and the silver haori was pulled back to allow Ichigo’s fingers to show in a graceful movement. Kisuke watched with open curiosity and raised brows as Ichigo’s face twisted into a frown, his brows drawn down and jaw clenched. After a tense second, Ichigo released a breath as if resigning himself to something and tilted his head towards the butterfly, whispering his message.

Kisuke didn’t realize it, but he had leaned forward into the orange haired man’s space to try to hear, and when Ichigo turned to look at him, their eyes met instantly. They were close, too close. He froze, staring at molten silver, seeing his eyes for what they really were now that he was so near. The deeper her looked, the more it seemed like fabric twisting and sliding along in gentle crests, smaller lights becoming visible. The closest he could describe it as was an infinity mirror, but filled with silver metal and randomly spewed stars. Kisuke leaned in further, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw the glowing silver pools were in fact depthless.

A hand was suddenly over his eyes and Kisuke blinked behind it, clearing his vision and staggering, losing his balance if it were not for Ichigo’s other hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath he hadn’t realized he needed and a claw of anxiety gripped him from nowhere.

“Shh, just breath.” Ichigo’s voice was soft and close, and Kisuke nodded shakily. He absently noticed his limbs trembling and he took in another uneasy breath. After a few minutes Ichigo removed his hand, his own eyes were closed, and he backed away a foot or two before opening them again. This time when Kisuke briefly met his gaze his eyes seemed normal besides the unusual color.

“What-” Kisuke cut himself off, unsure how to word his question.

Ichigo looked away from him, a frown twisting on his lips as he tucked his hands back in his haori. He spoke low and carefully, as if trying to not give too much away. “Mortals…” Ichigo trailed off briefly. “Should not look where their minds cannot handle.”

Kisuke swallowed hard, seeing Ichigo in a new light. A part of him now realized that Ichigo was in fact far beyond them. He tried not to linger on how his limbs felt heavy or how his heart was still erratic, instead he forced his scientific mind to the forefront, chewing his lip over possibilities. “And what,” he hesitated, suddenly unsure if he wanted the answer. A trait so unlike him that he was surprised at his own thought.

Ichigo seemed to pick up on how hard it was for him to talk because he looked back at him, purposefully keeping his gaze on his shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. “You most likely would have gone insane or died. Whichever comes first.”

Silence reigned between them, and he wondered how such a thing could be possible.

“I’m sorry,” Ichigo’s quiet murmur was barely above the volume of a passing breeze, and he had to strain to hear it. “I forget myself.” There seemed to be more that he wanted to say but Ichigo kept his lips tightly shut.

Kisuke raised a hand to his head, gripping the brim of his hat and nodded. “It’s ok, Yoruichi always said I was too curious for my own good.” He put on his teasing voice, trying to lift Ichigo’s spirits but it seemed like it made him feel worse.

Silver clad shoulders slumped and Ichigo turned to walk away, pausing before speaking but refusing to look back at him. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I have to go back to visit someone sooner than I thought.”

Ichigo was giving him an out, but Urahara was no coward. Even as he found himself moving to follow, he wondered why the man seemed so distraught. The silence between them stretched for several long moments as they walked along the bleached white streets of the seiretti, and by then, his limbs were back to normal and his heart steady. “Ichigo?” he murmured, continuing when he saw a nod of acknowledgment.

“I have faced death on numerous occasions, this was nothing new. You have nothing to feel bad about. It was an accident.” Kisuke gripped his fan tight but didn’t move to raise it. In his mind, Benihimie was humming in a hollow tone that brought a chill down his spine. He had never heard her sound like that before.

“I know.” Ichigo nodded his head in agreement and Kisuke blinked, confused.

“Then why?” Kisuke’s heart clenched oddly, his brows furrowing as he stared at the side of Ichigo’s face that he could see. Silver eyes stared ahead resolutely, a grimace crossing his features. Loose locks of orange hair shifted in the next breeze and Ichigo paused, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Your essence reaches for me, but it tries to hide itself away just as vigorously.” Ichigo pinned him with silver eyes briefly, and Kisuke understood what he meant. Now that he had seen it, he felt existential dread well up inside of him when their eyes had locked. It was as if his very soul could feel the prospect of eternal nothingness.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ichigo turned back and continued walking. Kisuke hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided to keep going. He hadn’t wanted to think of Ichigo too differently, but it seemed that had been a tall order. Still, he resolved himself to try.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

It didn’t take a genius like him to realize why they were in Muken. Even a toddler could have fit the pieces together. A part of him was weary, wondering if Ichigo was right about Aizen, but it was hard to argue the fact. After all, if Ichigo could  feel his essence, he could probably detect any lie told to him. It was a nice quirk, but also terribly bothersome at the same time.

As they walked along the darkened halls, Kisuke wondered if he would be given the chance to speak with the traitor. Though, was he really a traitor now, or someone who had known the full truth? Kisuke sighed, letting out the heavy breath as they turned another corner. Just as they approached a solid metal door on the far side, Ichigo paused and gripped him on the shoulder before walking straight through it, forcing him along. Grey eyes widened as he phased through, unable to hide his surprise at the blatant manipulation of reality.

Now he stood in the cell, eyes flickering from Ichigo to the heavy iron door, trying to wrap his mind around the power. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready for this.

Ichigo’s groan of annoyance made him turn and Kisuke nearly stumbled at the scene. Aizen was unbound, the dark wrappings of Muken nowhere to be found. He still wore the white clothes that he had fought with, edges tattered and collar loose. Seeing an unbound Aizen still in Muken was enough of a shock, seeing him kneeling before Ichigo just put the cherry on the cake.

“You know when I said show your dedication, I didn’t’ mean it like this.” Ichigo was scowling as he lifted Aizen up off the floor with a tug on his hand.

“Nonsense, I have always done as I pleased, and I will not waver in this.” Even from the floor and kneeling to another, Aizen managed to look arrogant. Ichigo’s eye twitched and he ran a hand through his bright hair, distinctly ignoring his last statement.

Kisuke on the other hand, was too stunned to speak. Dark brown eyes flicked over to him, and he narrowed his grey ones in response, gripping Benihime tightly.

“Urahara” Aizen drawled out his name, his voice condescending, as if he knew more. That wasn’t entirely inaccurate, and it rubbed Urahara the wrong way. He was used to being the one with all the secrets.

“Aizen,” Kisuke nodded to him, bringing his fan up to his face and watching under the brim of his hat. A twisted smile carved itself onto Aizen’s face as he tilted his head back, looking down his nose at him.

“And now you know the truth.” His voice was haughty, “I warned you, didn’t I? That thing on the throne disgusts me.” Aizen spat out the words with a seething hatred that make Kisuke jolt. The brunet’s mouth formed into a sneer as he took a step towards the blonde. “Genius,” Aizen’s tone tuned mocking, his eyes narrowed into slits. “What a foolish word to be associated with you.”

Urahara bristled momentarily but forced himself to relax, this was Aizen. This was his way of getting under people’s skin. A heavy sigh made them look from each other and towards Ichigo who ran an exasperated hand down his face. “I said, you’re going to have to try and convince them you were trying to help me, not just call everyone an idiot for not seeing what you did.” Ichigo’s voice was bland as he frowned at Aizen, briefly giving Kisuke an apologetic look.

Aizen sniffed, looking away from the god and staring at the dark wall. “All others are beneath me if they could not see such obvious clues, your word is all I care for.”

To have the god wannabe speaking to someone as a superior made Kisuke uncomfortable, it was so far out of what he knew of the man.

“Well try, otherwise this captain’s meeting is going to blow the top off the first division.” Kisuke’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, his eyes snapping to Ichigo. Now he understood why they had come here after the hell butterfly had been sent. Oh, this was going to go terribly. He couldn’t wait.

Ichigo sent him a knowing look, “yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking. But if I gotta explain the whole soul king thing I at least have to explain why Sosuke isn’t as insane as everyone thought he was. Besides, I don’t quite know all the details of how he managed to figure it out so this way he won’t have to explain twice.” Ichigo shrugged, ignoring how Aizen frowned at the word insane.

Of everything Ichigo said one thing grabbed his attention the most. “Sosuke?” He put emphasis on Aizen’s name, tilting his hat back to uncover his eyes and frowning at Ichigo.

“Yeah? I call you Kisuke?” Ichigo blinked at him like it was no big deal and for a moment Urahara wondered if he was the odd one.

Aizen scoffed and moved to stand by Ichigo’s side, crossing his arms as his lips twisted into a half smirk, dark eyes narrowing on him once more. “Do you expect a god to follow our normalities? Foolish, when they are who our souls are born from.” Aizen tilted his head back and to the side, not bothering to hide his hatred.

Kisuke begrudgingly admitted he had a point but refused to say it. Instead, he completely ignored Aizen, ignored how just his very being abhorred him and faced Ichigo, who he noted was still careful not to look him directly in the eyes.

“We’re taking him with us?”

Ichigo shook his head. “No, just warning him about a change of plans. You and I will go together but I wanted to make sure he was clear on what was happening.” Ichigo paused and looked Aizen over, a frown forming on his face as he trailed a finger along the center of Aizen’s chest. The delicate way Ichigo did it make Kisuke shudder before he realized something was missing. Kisuke’s eyes widened when he saw that the Hogyoku was no longer with Aizen. In fact, he couldn’t sense it anywhere in the room. He didn’t know how he had overlooked such a large detail, but he wasn’t quite willing to blame it all on the chaos Ichigo wrought wherever he went.

Aizen sneered at him, noticing where his gaze lingered, yet Kisuke could see the slight weariness in his eyes. Aizen still had no zanpakuto, and now he was quite killable.

“No,” Ichigo’s voice cut through his thoughts and he blinked, frowning at the lack of privacy he was given, even in his own mind. “Sorry but no. Aizen is mine to deal with Kisuke.” Ichigo’s tone was unwavering, as if he expected him to argue.

Kisuke’s fingers tightened around Benihime briefly before letting his anger go, unwilling to fight with his former pupil over a man he wanted nothing to do with even now. Ichigo relaxed, turning back to Aizen and pressing his palm firmly against the traitor’s chest. Power flared briefly and Kisuke blinked away the blinding light. When his vision cleared, he saw Aizen’s chest had been healed and his clothes were no longer rags hanging off him. The brown haired man once again wore his outfit from Hueco Mundo, looking every bit the arrogant asshole Kisuke knew he was.

Aizen nodded towards Ichigo, a small tilt of his lips forming into the first genuine smile Kisuke thought he had ever seen on the man. “Thank you. It is appreciated.”

Kisuke was going to get whiplash from Aizen’s mood swings.

A grin blossomed on Ichigo’s face and he nodded to them, “right, I’ll call you to me when we’re ready.”

Kisuke walked behind Ichigo in silence as they made their way to the captain’s meeting. The sun was high in the sky now and the white buildings and walls were nearly blinding. He contemplated on the meeting they had just left, on the decisions Ichigo seemed to be able to make with a rational head and well thought out ideas as he filled Kisuke and Aizen in. Grey eyes trailed over silver clothes and Kisuke held back a weary sigh, it was hard to remind himself that the Ichigo of now was a millennia old god that was probably a lot wiser than he was. And that he had relented to the soutaichou’s idea so easily earlier had been the nail in the coffin for Kisuke, because clearly Ichigo could see the reason for what it was, opportunity.

“You’re brooding,” Ichigo’s humming voice cut through him and he spluttered.

He put on his best annoying voice and brought his fan up to hide his face. “Ah, Kurosaki-san!” He quickly found out that calling him Ichigo-sama had induced a cold glare the day before, so he chose to address him the same as always. “My wonderful pupil is so observant!”

Ichigo snorted and looked over his shoulder at him, catching Kisuke off guard with the large smile that was on his face. “Don’t change, Kisuke.”

There was such warmth and fondness in that statement that he couldn’t help the surprise that fluttered across his face, his hand dropping away with his fan. It was only when Ichigo turned back around to look at him that he realized he had stopped walking as well. “Oi, pick your jaw up off the floor, we’re late!”

A genuine smile tilted at the corners of his lips, and he tilted his head down, shadowing his eyes from view as he nodded. “Of course.”

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Now that they were at the entrance of the meeting hall Kisuke was vibrating in excitement. As someone who lived off drama and lavish reveals, he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces. Especially Byakuya and Soifon. And this time, he had brought a camera. A weight landed on his shoulder and he turned to his right, smiling down at Yoruichi with the broadest grin he could muster. She was looking at him with such mirth in her eyes that he knew she wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Her whiskers were practically quivering in excitement and her paws were kneading into the fabric of his dark green haori.

Ichigo glanced back and gave her a smile, making Yoruichi stiffen. It seemed he wasn’t the only one unused to this iteration of Ichigo. It had always been a rare thing when he smiled, and to see him more open now was only slightly unsettling. Yoruichi nodded at Ichigo, and Urahara idly wondered how she would act towards him now.

The orange haired god turned back towards the double doors and gave them a casual shove, flinging them open and walking into the meeting hall, disregarding the shouts of outrage that came from inside. Urahara was giddy and practically skipped in behind him, camera at the ready and completely unfazed by Yamamoto’s harsh reiatsu and slam of his cane. When the doors closed behind them and they were cast in shadows and the soutaichou leveled everyone in the room with a heavy glare, besides Ichigo of course. Kisuke wasn’t sure what they had been discussing prior to them entering, but judging by the Kuchiki head’s position on the floor with parchment lined in his clan seal, it was quite important. He was glad that they seemed to come just in time then, since it didn’t seem like they knew who the new god was. Just that he was around.

Subtly, he lifted his camera and snapped their angry expressions, wanting comparisons for before and after. No one seemed to notice him though because at the same time, Yamamoto sank to his knees, placing his zanpakuto disguised as a cane horizontally in front of him, and bowed with his forehead to the floor in front of a scowling Ichigo. Kisuke snapped a series of photos, capturing the widening of eyes and hanging of jaws as twelve pairs of eyes snapped from Yamamoto to Ichigo. Jushiro and Shunsui were the next to move, easily mimicking their mentor and bowing with a smile on their face. Soifon was next, stiffly lowering herself, her face pained and mouth twisted like she sucked on a lemon. Oh, that was perfect.

The rest of the captains followed, some with more grace than others, but Kenpachi was the only one with a savage grin. He made a mental note to talk to the visored later, their acceptance of the situation seemed far too easy, and he wondered if they were just used to Ichigo’s antics by now, always expecting the unexpected. Surprisingly enough, the last to gather enough bearings to get themselves onto the floor were Rukia and Renji, their mouths opening and closing in unison. Rukia’s violet eyes met Renji’s  brown, and they nodded to each other before swiftly following the example of their captains. Once everyone was on the floor Ichigo opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when Yoruichi jumped in front of him, right off Urahara’s shoulder. She flicked her tail and stared up at him, giving him a quick bow on the front of her paws before curling around his leg and demanding to be pet.

Kisuke blinked, not quite expecting that. He let his eyes trail up and he shook his head with a smile at the large grin Ichigo had on his face. Ichigo picked her up, settling her in his arms and Kisuke could see immediately that she turned into liquid under his ministrations.

“Stand, and don’t feel the need to do this every time. I’m sure it would be a killer on the legs.” Ichigo broke the silence in the only way he knew how and Kisuke heard more than one chuckle. Almost as one, they all sat up on their knees, still sitting but staring up at him with mirrored expressions of bewilderment. Kisuke could practically hear the questions ringing out of their mind and apparently so could Ichigo because he sighed and adjusted Yoruichi so she could hold onto him herself. He saw Soifon’s eye twitch and he snapped another photo.

Now with free hands, Ichigo started counting things off on his fingers in a way that reminded Kisuke of the annoyed teenager that he had been.

“One, no I didn’t know until recently. Two, it’s form getting my memories back,” He paused, staring up at the ceiling hard enough to burn a hole in it. “Three, I prefer Ichigo, but I was called Tsukuyomi.” Said man continued on with bullheaded stubbornness, completely ignoring the choked off cries of disbelief and the clicking of his camera. “Now let me make it clear that I am happy for the society you have built and protected over millennia,” Ichigo looked down from where he had been staring at the ceiling and met several pairs of eyes looking at him warily.

Kisuke had already heard what was to come, and truly it had been a sobering realization. He always knew about the flaws the Gotei 13 held, but never did he imagine that it ran further than bone deep. The very foundations based off corruption, albeit unknowingly. He let his gaze slide to Soifon, knowing full well she would be the most against this and awaiting her reaction.

“Your wills are strong and your beliefs just,” Ichigo paused, as if he were unwilling to truly sweep the rug from under them. He saw when silver eyes hardened, and he tensed in preparation for the out of control reiatsu that was to come.

“But unfortunately, Aizen was right about the soul king.”

That…was possibly the worst way that it could have been put. There was a brief silence that followed Ichigo’s voice before the blonde was physically jolted by the surge in reiatsu from everyone in the room. Minus the soutaichou, and Kisuke had to thank the gods for small mercies.

The outcry was unanimous, and he didn’t blame them. Soifon was up in arms, as expected, her voice rough and loud, grating against his nerves in a way only she could manage.

“That traitor is against everything we believe in! How dare you-” her voice was cut off sharply and she crumpled to the ground under the overbearing weight of the soutaichou’s reiatsu. Kisuke leaned on Benihime, his grip white knuckled as he flared his own power to try to stay standing. So much for small mercies. The majority of it wasn’t even directed at him, and he still had a hard time remaining upright.

Yamamoto’s glare was heavy when it landed on a gasping Soifon, rage swelling in eyes that burned like coals. To the credit of the small captain, she managed to nod her head in understanding, taking in a deep breath when the pressure was let up.

Silence reigned, the tension in the air heavy as everyone tried to come to terms with what they just witnessed. To see the soutaichou show such support of Ichigo, was bewildering, but it only further proved that he was who he said he claimed to be. They had been convinced already, the soutaichou bowed to no man, yet it seemed some of the other captains were quick to let it slip when the new god wore such a familiar face.

Kisuke looked away from the cowed Soifon, eyes briefly passing over a miffed Yoruichi before landing on Ichigo again. The young man was the only one who seemed completely unaffected by the reiatsu that had nearly suffocated all of them.

“I know it’s difficult to accept, but what I say is true. The one who calls himself god is nothing more than a traitor.”

Kisuke felt his brows raise at the anger that twisted in Ichigo’s words, wearily eyeing the distortion of space in his immediate surroundings. Kisuke took a step away from the seething god and swallowed.

“He holds false power and has spun a web of lies for millennia. I have already killed off a part of him and I do not intend to stop.” Ichigo’s silver eyes were raging with a blazing fury, his fists clenched at his sides. Two figures materialized next to Ichigo and Kisuke saw when his familiars rested their hands on his shoulders in silent support, one on each side. If anyone was surprised at their appearance, they didn’t show it, and maybe it was because they didn’t have any more surprise to give.

Ichigo took in a calming breath and the distorted air around him straightened and returned to normal. When he spoke again his voice was more calm, but still tinged with bitterness. “Aizen Sosuke knew the truth of the soul king. He was under the impression that the soul society also knew and ignored the truth.” The silence was deafening, and Kisuke could see the beginning of anger in several pairs of eyes. If Ichigo saw it, he ignored it.

“For trying to help me, Aizen Sosuke is now under my command. And while I can appreciate his…enthusiasm I do not condone his methods, and he will be delt with accordingly.” Ichigo’s voice was unwavering, his eyes set on the soutaichou the entire time. The scratching of a quill on parchment was the only sound as Byakuya Kuchiki worked furiously from his spot on the floor. His movements were steady but his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Kisuke took another picture.

After a long, tense silence, Yamamoto relented with a nod of his head. “It is as you say, Tsukuyomi-sama” his rumbling voice filled the air and Kisuke could see Soifon reinflate with anger, practically steaming in her seated position. The room grew distinctly colder, and several pairs of eyes glanced at Toshiro who was stone faced. His hands were clenched in a white knuckled grip in his lap but otherwise, he gave no indication of his displeasure.

The spirits of Ichigo’s powers removed their hands from his shoulders and took a step back from him as one, watching his back with varying expressions. Their movement brought attention back to them and some only gave them brief glances, but Kisuke noticed how Yamamoto’s eyes seemed to bore into the elder of Ichigo’s sprits. Ichigo waved Yamamoto off in a distinct gesture to talk later, and the old captain narrowed his eyes but seemed unwilling to argue in front of the others.

“Now then, I still have my own questions that only Sosuke can answer, and I’d rather not have to repeat myself.” Ichigo waved a hand and the air in front of him rippled like water in a lake. Kisuke stepped back further, his gaze never leaving the ripple as he watched Aizen step though the distorted reality, an arrogant smirk on his face as usual.

Parts of the floor froze over in a flash freeze and several pairs of eyes glared hotly at the man. Shinji, who had been a fuming, silent observer up to this point, lunged towards the man, his fury evident on his face. In one smooth motion he had his zanpakuto out and slicing towards Aizen, who reached out in an attempt to catch the sword with his hand. None of the captains moved to intervene, and honestly Kisuke didn’t blame them.

There was a clash of steel and Shiro stood between Aizen and a furious Shinji, blocking the blow. Shinji growled, his mask forming on his face in his rage, but the familiar was not cowed. The air grew dark, heavy, and Shinji who stood the closest to the source, fell to a knee, stubbornly keeping his sword raised even as his arms trembled. His glare moved from Ichigo’s white doppelganger to the orange haired man, and he spoke through a clenched jaw.

“I can accept a lot of shit, Ichigo. But not this, not him!” Shinji’s voice grew in volume, unrelenting even as the air grew heavier and heavier, forcing the captain down further and making Kisuke tremble from the weight. “You know what he did! How can you just turn your backs on us!”

If Shinji’s words had any effect on Ichigo, he didn’t show it. Ichigo stood tall and still, his hands in his silver haori and his eyes staring ahead resolutely. However, his familiars had different reactions altogether.

Shinji’s head snapped to the left, the backhand he received from the white familiar splattering blood along the floor. Kisuke took a step forward, worried for his friend but froze when golden eyes were pinned on him briefly.

It was then that Kisuke realized that Ichigo was beyond lenient with them. Perhaps due to the familiarity he had with them or the mutual respect, either way, he understood now that Ichigo never actually used his power. His familiars on the other hand had no such qualms.

“Shut yer mouth you fucking mortal.” The doppelganger’s voice was twisted, angry, and distorted. Not in the way a hollow’s was, but as if hundreds of others were speaking with him. Shinji, who had recovered and was about to retort, quailed. Shiro’s golden eyes were glowing bright, illuminating the skin on his cheeks and swirling with anger. His grip on the overly large blade was white knuckled and no one dared to breath. The air around the familiar shifted, not like how Ichigo had made it, but they could still see the wood begin to erode under his heavy presence.

“Shiro,” Ichigo’s quiet voice cut though and Shiro immediately took a step away, sheathing his sword on his back without a word and spinning around, not sparing a glance back at the crumpled blond.

Ichigo didn’t look towards Shinji as he spoke, but Kisuke could see the hard set of his jaw. “If you’re done now, we must continue.” His voice was even, firm, but it held a sort of heavy melody that hadn’t been present before.

Kisuke’s heart clenched at the sight Ichigo made. He had shut himself off, perfectly posed and had an air of indifference to him. He took a hesitant step towards Ichigo but was stopped by the seething glare Aizen sent him and the others. The white clad man stood with his hands at ease on his side but there was a tightness to his razer sharp smile that made Kisuke aware that he was anything but calm.

Aizen looked down his nose at Shinji, his head held high as he scoffed. “Such imprudence, it is no wonder that you were all so foolishly blind.”

The blonde’s shoulder’s tensed but he said nothing as he stiffly stood and sent a hateful glare towards the traitor. “I don’t care what you think you knew-“

A slam from the front of the room cut him off and Yamamoto’s gruff voice bellowed out in outrage. “Enough! You have sullied your rank as is! Return to the line!”

Shinji hesitated but ultimately obeyed, sending one last withering glare at Aizen before resolutely burning a hole in the far wall with his eyes.

Kisuke let out the breath he had been holding as did many others. The quiet scraping of Byakuya’s quill picked up once more and Ichigo rubbed a hand down his face in frustration.

“Now, no more interruptions. Hold your questions or else this is going to take fucking days.” Ichigo turned to face Aizen and jerked his head, motioning for him to come closer. Aizen moved without hesitation, giving Ichigo a swift bow, ignoring the surprise on the others faces as he did so.

“How did you find out about me?” Ichigo tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

“Simple. The archives hold scrolls from before the founding of the gotei, I of course read them. When you read in between the lines, they simply cannot be referring to the soul king.” Aizen gestured, waving a hand towards the sky. “The texts claimed to be infused with the power of the god that made them, but when I investigated, the reiatsu that holds up the palace does not resonate with the power in the scroll. Of course, that could only mean that the person is not the same.” Aizen paused, turning with a raised brow towards him and motioning him forward. Kisuke let his feet guide him, too curious as to what was being revealed.

“Tell me Urahara, what holds up the soul king’s palace?”

He recited from memory, “the reiatsu from the king on the throne.”

Aizen nodded, “now, if you were to hold a holy artifact you’d immediately know, yes?”

Kisuke nodded in confirmation, knowing that Aizen was only talking to him so he could show the plausibility of his story. That manipulative-

“And they cannot be falsified?”

Kisuke nodded again, tapping his fan against his thigh.

Aizen turned back to Ichigo, completely content in ignoring everyone else in the room.  “The scroll itself was an artifact, and when I noticed the differences in the reiatsu, I searched more.” Aizen’s gaze slid to Ichigo’s familiars as he continued. “I do believe your familiars can explain the rest.”

There was silence for a moment as Ichigo raised a brow and twisted his neck to look over his shoulder at Ossan. Shiro was still fuming on his other side but Zangetsu nodded in understanding.

“You found my writings, then.”

Zangetsu Ossan stepped forward, his cloak billowing around him in an invisible wind as he bowed his head towards Ichigo before continuing. “Endless lifetimes, my kami, Shiro and I could not be the only ones to know. We wrote that scroll centuries ago, in a time before the gotei, in hopes that someone would understand.” Zangetsu slid his pale blue eyes towards Aizen and gave the brown haired man a leveling look.

“It is unfortunate only one soul was capable, but we are grateful nonetheless.” Zangetsu tilted his head ever so slightly to the other.

Kisuke expected condensation from Aizen, anything that stroked his superiority complex really. He was partially correct. Aizen nodded back towards the spirit, his back still turned to the captains as he made a point to continue to only address Ichigo.

“It is unfortunate that I was not around earlier, since I see age does not bring intellect after all.” Kisuke felt several captains bristle and he tilted his hat down, clenching his eyes shut. He had forgotten just how tiring it was to talk to Aizen.

Ichigo hummed, tilting his head back and exposing his throat as he gazed at nothing. Only the faint scowl on his face gave any indication that he was deep in thought. Ichigo rolled his shoulders and brought his gaze back to Aizen, motioning for the man to stand beside him.

Again, Aizen moved without complaint, putting himself to Ichigo’s right, one step behind and next to Zangetsu ossan.

“Che, lap dog already.”

Kisuke didn’t catch who said it, but Aizen’s dark chuckle didn’t bode well. Before the room could once again erupt in chaos Kisuke stepped forward towards Ichigo, ignoring the scowl Aizen sent him.

“Ah Kurosaki-san, what will happen now?”

Ichigo smiled viciously, his reiatsu licking across his skin. “We go to the palace of course.”

The occupants of the table were silent, each eyeing their cooling tea with varying expressions. Shinji clenched his jaw, his hand straining not to shatter the cup in his hand. He just couldn’t get over it, couldn’t understand why Ichigo would side with that bastard.

“Shinji,” Rose’s voice was soft, and he and Kensei turned to look at the blonde. His face was impassive but there was an air of finality around him.

“I still trust Ichigo.”

His frown deepened and Kensei threw his cup against the wall, flinging tea and glass in all directions. They didn’t say anything, but Rose wasn’t deterred. Next to him, Lisa nodded her head in a sharp movement and took a sip of tea before speaking.

“Rose is right. Ichigo knows what he’s doing. I doubt his will to protect those he cares about has changed.” She crossed her arms, the white captain’s haori caught under them and straining, revealing her smooth legs.

“Che,” Shinji leaned back, ignoring Kensei when the man stormed out of the room. “I doubt he knows what he’s doing. Aizen is a manipulative-”

“Shut up Shinji. Do you think a god is wrong here?” Lisa’s voice cut him off and he snapped his mouth shut. That had been another thing that was terribly hard to believe, he hadn’t even had a chance to let it simmer yet. Aizen’s appearance had drained away any rational thought, but now he could see the beginnings of their reasoning. He turned to glare at her, meeting her eyes behind her glasses but eventually turning away from the ferociousness he saw there. When had she and Ichigo grown so close?

He slumped in his seat, taking a sip of his cold tea to distract himself. Because when he really put all the pieces together, it wasn’t hard to believe what Ichigo was doing was right. The harder pill to swallow was something else entirely, and he realized that may have been what was clouding his judgment the first time around.

“He looks the same,” he murmured, eyeing the far wall and watching as the shadows grew longer.

Lisa let out a sigh and she leaned back against her chair heavily. “Yeah, I know Shinji. He’s still got that young face and same fire in his eyes,” she paused and he turned to look at her with raised brows.

“He still looks like a kid, our kin. But really… was he ever?” The question wasn’t whether or not Ichigo was family, the question was if they had ever had a right to call him that.

Shinji looked away and briefly locked eyes with Rose.

They didn’t know.

Chapter Text

Heavy doors opened with a shallow groan, the light of the hall penetrating the large throne room. Haschwalth’s form was shadowed by the backdrop of light as he entered, steps measured and even as Yhwach studied his approach. The doors closed behind him and the light that had come in vanished abruptly, leaving both of them draped in shadows. Yhwach watched impassively as Haschwalth knelt before him, his head low and blonde hair falling over his shoulder.

“Your majesty,” his voice was soft but managed to carry in the silence of the room, the white marble doing well to amplify the echo. Yhwach turned away from him and towards the ceiling, watching the candles flicker on the chandeliers and cast strange shadows on the walls.

“Open the curtains,” the order wasn’t for Haschwalth but to the servants that hung around the edges of the room. They moved soundlessly, drawing back the thick drapes on either side of the rectangular room long curtains still blocking the sight. Standing, he motioned for Haschwalth to follow as he moved behind his throne and to the lone balcony that remained open. His breath came out hot as he stepped outside, the chill in the air sharp against his face. When he looked up, he froze, dark eyes widening at the sight of the moon.

“Haschwalth,” he began, gaze never leaving the illuminated orb. “Tell me, does the moon look larger to you?” He heard his second in command shift before answering.

“Your Majesty, it does. That was why I came to you so late; I just saw it a few minutes ago also.” A breeze shifted past them and Yhwach let a sharp smile pull at his lips.

“This is a cause for celebration!” His voice grew louder, and his head tilted back as he let out a long laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes closing as he soaked up the brilliant light of the larger and brighter moon. “Tell me Haschwalth!” He spun away from the sky and locked eyes with the blonde. “Do you know why?” Before Haschwalth could finish shaking his head in the negative he cut in. “Because the true god has returned!”

He saw the moment realization hit when blue eyes widened in shock. Glancing to the moon and then back at him. “I-” Haschwalth cut himself off before continuing with a bowed head. “Please enlighten me further your majesty, I believe I understand but some of your history is blurry at times.”

Yhwach waved off his excuse and turned back to face the moon, raising his hands up as if to grasp at its greatness. “The soul king,” he began, twisted hatred in his voice. “Took everything from everyone, even if you don’t know it yet. The fear of the dark in the hearts of man came from his existence, and I loathe him for it!” He lowered his voice, trying to control the anger bubbling in his chest. “The false god,” he spat, “the one who dared to steal the power of our true creator.” He leaned forward and gripped the white railing, the marble splintering under his hands.

“Your majesty, if I may be so bold, are you not our creator?” Haschwalth stepped forward, his brows furrowed in confusion as he laid a hand against his heart. “I feel my power from you, my lord. That I am certain of.”

“Haschwalth, even I came from somewhere.” He slid his eyes over to the younger man, watching the various emotions that fluttered across his expression. “I was born from the false god, my soul finding his because of the power that he stole and held inside him. But, the power that keeps me alive is not his, and it never was. It was given to me in another lifetime, a life where I served my god dutifully and with full devotion.” Yhwach raised a hand over Haschwalth’s heart and urged the power he felt there to come forward. “When my god was killed, the piece of his soul inside me died as well, but it did not leave. I was thrown from his domain and killed.” He paused and took a deep breath, burying the emotions that threatened to surface. His hands had been slick with blood, trembling and fearful as he saw the god dim and waste away. The last thing he had seen from that dimension was the despairing face of the familiars that threw him from the heavens to save his soul.

Movement caught his attention and he saw Haschwalth bow his head, his mind trying to piece the information together. “But- then how?”

“We are all reincarnated, my soul latched onto the stolen power, and I was born once more, but to the being I hated above all. Yet, it was through the mercy of my true god that my memories did not die, it was through his mercy that I could live once more and seek my revenge. The power I share with you all is his, blazing white and pure.” Yhwach glanced back to the moon, reverence in his gaze. “I am unsure how, but he is back, and I will once again devote myself to his every whim.” Yhwach tilted his head down and let out a slow breath. “The name of our god, Haschwalt, is Tsukuyomi, for he casts away the darkness and brings forth purity even when it threatens to encroach our hearts. He is the only light in the dark.”

Aizen kept his posture relaxed as he sipped his tea. Every movement was slow and deliberate, giving the effect of utter calm. Across from him, Urahara was swirling his own cup while his grey eyes studied him under the brim of his hat. Aizen knew the former captain would do everything to keep him in his sight, especially when Aizen had made it abundantly clear that he was going to follow Ichigo no matter where he went. He shifted his gaze to the god sprawled out on the floor, watching as his chest rose and fell in an even pattern, his head cushioned by the white spirit of his (former?) hollow counterpart. There were a lot of questions there, but he was unsure if he would be satisfied with the answers. The older version of Ichigo’s blade was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed and legs outstretched, seemingly content with having his master’s legs draped over his. He was the only one of the three that was awake, his reiatsu a calming presence for the inverted twins.

Aizen may have felt insulted at some point in his life from the lack of decorum, but now he found himself holding back a smirk at the image they made. He frowned a moment later, remembering why the older spirit was awake. He doubted that Ichigo’s familiars would ever be comfortable around anyone ever again. Especially after the betrayal of someone who was supposed to be so closely tied to them. He didn’t blame them, he still had his own secondhand anger to deal with, even centuries after he realized their tragic tale. It hit him especially hard since his zanpakuto had a foot firmly planted in the god’s domain. Kyoka Suigetsu reflected the moon after all.

“You seem quite focused on something Aizen-san” Kisuke’s voice broke through his thoughts and he tore his eyes away from the slumbering god, putting on his most pleasant smile.

“Oh? My apologies. I seem to have found something better to occupy my time with.” Aizen kept his smile perfectly even as he watched Kisuke snap his fan open at the underhanded insult.

“I suppose there’s not much you can be doing right now other than watching someone sleep. Must be terribly hard to be hated by everyone you encounter.” The green and white fan flapped as Urahara’s chirper voice filled the air.

Amusement filled him as he took another sip of his tea, purposefully letting his gaze trail back to the sleeping orange head. “Quite nice of you to worry, but I fear it is unfounded. Even before his godhood, Kurosaki-kun never hated me, and quite frankly, that is all I need.”

If Kisuke was surprised by his statement then he didn’t show it, and when he didn’t reply Aizen knew he had hit a nerve.

“Such a loving soul he was, and now we are aware why. It is no wonder that his progress and power drew me in. I must say, being able to help cultivate that has given me a pleasure I didn’t know I could achieve.” Aizen let his smile slip into a smirk as he felt the tension in the air begin to rise. “And now I am to stay by his side for however long he wills it, this has turned out to be the more favorable circumstance.” He was truly relaxed now as he leaned back in his chair, legs crossed at the ankle and hand holding the cup up in a mocking gesture of camaraderie. Urahara was silent across from him, his eyes shadowed by his hat and fan gripped just a tad tighter.

“Che, you two remind me of a married couple.”

They both turned to see Ichigo’s bleached doppelganger lazily open his eyes and raising a brow in their direction.

“Surely not!” Urahara’s voice was high and his fan was back up in an instant, the fluttering vigorous. The sound of Ichigo’s laugh caught them both off guard once more and Aizen managed to hold back his surprise at the sound. The soft, low melody reminded him of a base cello with a tune that could fit into the ambience of any high class theater. The moment was shattered by Urahara’s grating voice wailing about the ‘lack of respect a sensei should have’ and Aizen considered permanently silencing the man by ripping out his tongue. It would have been a favor for everyone in the vicinity.

“Oi, Sosuke. Those aren’t nice thoughts!” Ichigo scolded him and he grimaced slightly, forgetting his mind was an open book to the god.

“My apologies,” he tilted his head towards Ichigo and attempted to ignore the loud shopkeeper, gritting his teeth in annoyance when an especially loud cackle pierced his ears.

“Kisuke, you too! Knock it off!” Ichigo ran a hand through his orange locks, the hair trailing through his long fingers before being swept back. “Worse than married couples,” he muttered under his breath and Aizen was only slightly offended. He was about to turn away from him and go back to harassing Urahara but something caught his gaze. Aizen watched as Ichigo absently rubbed at his chest, a grimace of pain fluttering across his features briefly. If he had blinked, he would have missed it. What was more noticeable however was the flash of concern that situated itself on his familiar’s faces. Their brows were drawn and frowns tilted at their mouths as they watched Ichigo ever so closely.

“Are you well?” He made to stand but was waved off by Zangetsu who narrowed his eyes at him, untrusting.

“Ichigo?” Urahara’s voice was low, serious in a way that was rare and Aizen felt smug when he was also told off.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” Ichigo stood from his spot on the floor and stretched, his back popping and his silver kimono gaping slightly at the chest. Aizen drew his attention back to Urahara just as the blonde did the same. A crease marred his brow, signifying his concern, which meant more considering it was visible to Aizen himself. He understood then, that in that moment they had a truce. If they combined their efforts, then it shouldn’t take long to uncover what the god was hiding.

Kisuke watched with rapt attention as Ichigo approached Ukitake. His silver eyes were focused on the man’s chest, seemingly looking past the flesh and into his being. He shifted, moving to get a better view even if it meant coming a step closer to Aizen. The man was equally as curious, it would have been near impossible to get him to move. After a moment of silence Ichigo stood straight again, giving Kyoraku and Ukitake a nod and smile.

“Ah, looks like you’re free for sure Jushiro.” Ichigo gave the old captain an easy smile and ruffled his white locks like he was a child exhibiting good behavior. Urahara blinked and held back a snort, though Kyoraku gave a full bellied laugh at the look on his best friend’s face. Ichigo seemed to realize what he did and his cheeks turned slightly pink, quickly drawing his hand away.

“Sorry”

Jushiro gave him a gentle smile, head tilting to the side “It’s quite alright, Ichigo.” Jushiro’s smile fell off then, brows drawing down in concern at a sudden realization. Kisuke leaned forward, ignoring how Aizen mimicked him as they both saw the signs of a question lingering on the white-haired captain’s tongue.

“Ichigo,” Jushiro began, almost hesitant even as Urahara tried to seem uninterested. “Did you have experience with children?” His voice trailed off in uncertainty and the query made Urahara’s brows raise to his hairline. That had not been something he had been expecting, and by the look an Kyoraku’s face it hadn’t been something he anticipated either. Though, Aizen looked expectant and Kisuke wondered if he had managed to guess such a thing. It would be something he would file away and ask about later.

“In a way, I suppose. I guess what gave it away was that gesture, huh?” Ichigo answered with his back to them, head craning towards the ceiling as he fell silent, nearly becoming lost in his thoughts. Here, Kisuke was unsure. He was never one to meddle in people’s affairs in such a way, familial ties and friendships being more on the side of foreign to him than familiar. He used people, but to him that fell in an entirely different aspect of life.

“Are they well?” Aizen’s voice broke the silence that had settled over them, and the former captain moved forward gracefully to stand at Ichigo’s back. His face had twisted in worry, and if Kisuke had been a betting man he would have called it a bluff. But in this instance he knew he would have lost. As much as Urahara knew about Aizen, a large majority of those sentiments were lost when it pertained to Ichigo, the former tyrant’s personality shifting too drastically for Urahara to determine whether what he said was true.

Ichigo’s smiled gently, a soft crease to his eyes as his hand was brought up to his chest, once again rubbing at his heart. “The last time I saw him, he was thrown from my domain. If he lived a full life, I cannot say.”

The silence was thick around them, the tiny room dense with the tension. Kisuke shifted, wondering how he could ask without being insensitive, but once again was beaten to the punch by Aizen who clearly had more skill in handling situations where people were concerned.

“You tried to save him?” Aizen pressed, eyes narrowing as he look a step closer to Ichigo. Kisuke frowned at the lack of distance between them and decided to come up to Ichigo’s other side, the gesture not lost on Aizen who sent him a sharp glare.

“In his first life, yes I tried. He has been reincarnated since then, so in a way I suppose he was saved. But,  he has become as misguided as you, Aizen.” Ichigo looked away from the spot on the ceiling, silver eyes glowing as his pupils dilated, gaze landing on the brunette.

“Yhwach has spoken to you, yes?”

A choked off cough was the only sound in the room, Jushio’s gasping breath rattling his lungs as he stared at Ichigo in abject terror, the first sign of distrust the captain had ever given the newly named god. Any thoughts that Jushiro had must have annoyed Ichigo, because he swung on him, scowl fierce and eyes narrowing as his lips thinned.

“He wasn’t all wrong, the genocide of the quincy is a sin that soul society will bear until the foundations come to ruin and the sekkiseki stone turns to dust-” Ichigo cut himself off, grimacing and nearly flinching back at the shadowed eyes the captains before him held. Kyoraku brought a hand up to his straw hat, tilting it down until his eyes were no longer visible.

“Sorry,” Ichigo muttered as he blinked, a furrow forming between his brows. “You don’t deserve that.” Ichigo let out a sigh and Kisuke idly noted the way he held himself. The slight slouching of his shoulders and the anxious gesture of rubbing the skin of his fingers together. It reminded him of a younger Ichigo, one that had hidden behind his mother’s skirt and refused to drift far from her when approached by strangers. It was reassuring just as it was fascinating, watching how his personalities fought against one another, one a teenager in the modern world and the other a god. Each trying to sift through feelings that had been brought by different life experiences.

“Regarding your question, he has.” Aizen’s voice cut in, completely uncaring of the delicate predicament the captains in front of him were in. His tone was unbothered, smooth and without a hint of remorse as he carried on like nothing had happened. “I denied him of course, his intentions were unclear to me at the time. Though I must admit, had I known...” Aizen trailed off, eyes narrowing in thought. “It doesn’t matter now, how he wishes to find salvation is of no concern to me.” Aizen paused, eyes flicking back towards the captains. “Nor his vengeance.”

Kisuke hummed, taking his words at face value. If it came down to it, Aizen would not defend the soul society, his home, against any attack if the quincy were to strike. It bothered Urahara that the man was no longer as easy to read, his motivations had shifted so drastically that it would take time for him to once more determine his moves without a shadow of a doubt. But, then again...

Urahara brought his fan up higher, gaze lingering on Aizen, taking in the set of his jaw, the half-lidded gaze that rested entirely on Ichigo. Aizen’s eyes followed Ichigo as he moved around the room with a reverence that nearly made Kisuke uncomfortable. And if Ichigo noticed it he didn’t say, or perhaps he had grown used to people looking at him in such a way? Kisuke fluttered his fan, realizing that while Aizen had shifted priorities, he could still be predicted with few certainties. One, he was sure, would be to ensure that Ichigo had any support he could offer.

Kisuke let his shoulders relax as he snapped his fan shut. Ichigo may have changed as well, but Kisuke could see the selfless desire to help people still embedded deep into his soul. And that fact alone would more than likely deter Aizen from causing any mass casualties or undue harm upon another.

The lighting in the room changed and brought Kisuke out of his thoughts. He looked up from where his attention had fallen onto the floor and stilled. Ichigo stood in front of the window, the orange light of the sun lighting up his front, highlighting the curve of his cheek and setting his hair into a blaze. His silver haori and hakama were overtaken by the harsh shafts of light, making it seem as if he were on fire from head to toe. In contrast his back was cast into a deep shadow, the luminescence of his clothes more visible in their unnatural shine. A darkness was cast into the rest of the room, and it emphasized the glowing visage of the god, as if nature itself had acknowledged him and set him apart from the rest.

Ichigo shifted and it broke the image, the shadows of the room being chased away as he moved from the window once more. The sudden light made Kisuke blink as it flooded over them and he squinted against the setting sun, wondering if he would be less distracted if he closed the window. When Aizen moved to do so he could only frown, hating that he had such similar thoughts to the other genius.

“If I may ask,” Kyoraku’s voice was low, deep. “I understand that we are to destroy the current soul king,” Kyoraku paused, the shadows on his face growing darker as the window was finally closed, only flickering candles allowing Kisuke to see the scrunching of skin near his eyes. “How does Yhwach fit into all of this?”

Ichigo gave a casual shrug, smile forming on his face and catching them all off guard. “I don’t know, that’s why I need to go to the Wandenreich, preferably now.” He looked back towards Jushiro who had remained silent, but the captain seemed less reluctant to hear Ichigo out. “I just came to make sure Jushiro was still alright.” Ichigo scratched the back of his head, musing the low ponytail he kept his hair in and making Kisuke’s eyes catch the gleaming earrings that hung off his lobes like stars.

“The Wardenreich?” Kyoraku echoed, brows furrowing as he tilted his hat back up to show his face.

“It is where the quincy reside,” Aizen answered Kyoraku’s question but didn’t give the man a chance to dwell on it as he continued. “Should you let me go with you I can inform you of everything I know, or be of use if their technologies are something you wish to delve into.” Aizen paused briefly, lips tightening into a thin line. “It would be detestable to see you venture into such an accursed place. The quincy king is of ill ilk.”

Kisuke couldn’t help the scoff that left his mouth, though he was hardly sorry about it and did nothing to hide the action. “Ah yes, I’m sure you would be best suited to recognize those with less than stellar intentions then?” The blonde smiled cheerily, a gust of air blowing his bangs as he fluttered his fan.

“Hn,” Aizen hummed, his expression curving to fit his now razer sharp smile as his eyes narrowed. “Quite right, after all that’s how I knew you to be cable of so much.”

Kisuke tightened his jaw ever so slightly, fan still swaying easily and giving nothing away. A heavy sigh form Kyoraku interrupted them and the larger man went to step between them, scratching at the back of his head and nearly causing his hat to teeter off.

“Maa, maa, you two really are a handful together, I really don’t envy you, Ichigo, Do they ever stop?” Ichigo’s eyes widened in surprise before amusement overtook him, Jushiro coughing suspiciously into his hands behind him.

Kisuke paused in his fanning, for once unwilling to go with the act of cheerfulness as he brought his gaze back to Ichigo, ignoring how Kyoraku’s form nearly blocked him away completely. Something had been nagging at him, and it was beginning to plow a sinking feeling into his stomach.

“Ichigo,” he began slowly, hand falling and fan dropping to his side. His lips straightened, eyes going half mast as they were cast in shadow. “As strong as you are, do you believe it is wise to wander so deeply into enemy territory yourself?”

Ichigo looked away from him, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze as he crossed his arms and idly tapped a long finger against his forearm. “What indication did I give that he is my enemy?” Ichigo finally turned to look back at them, silver eyes glowing now that the sun had almost completely set. The shimmer of his hakama drew the image of scattered stars falling as he moved and Kisuke had to remind himself not to be distracted.

“Oh?” Aizen’s voice interjected, less surprised than he ought to have been. “How interesting, I should know better by now, than to doubt one such as you.”

If Kisuke hadn’t already been thrown off by Aizen’s attitude earlier he would have openly gaped. As it was, it was only Kyoraku and Jushiro that nearly flinched back at the emotion in his voice- the near devotion. He saw the shiver and goosebumps run up Jushiro’s arms as the man fumbled for words at the declarations happening before his eyes. Kisuke decided to have mercy, knowing that such things would be quite time consuming to comprehend for a simpler mind. And that was time that they no longer had.

Jushiro dared a look towards him, silver eyebrows furrowing and face contorting in weary apprehension at the scene before them. If Ichigo or Aizen noticed they said nothing, the later choosing to follow closely behind the god as he waved his goodbyes.

“We’ll come back later, make sure to meet up with us soon, Kisuke.” Ichigo threw a smile over his shoulder at the threshold of the door as he looked between the occupants left with a knowing sadness. The shoji screen was slid shut and the light from the hall was cut away with it, leaving Kisuke and the two captains in the dim, apprehensive atmosphere.

Kyoraku moved first, his tall frame shifting in the near dark as he rubbed his chin. “Is it just me, or did Ichi leaving make it darker in here?”

Jushiro blinked rapidly, a soft laugh escaping his as he hesitantly glanced around. “It seems that way, doesn’t it?”

“Well,” Kisuke interjected, putting his fan away and looking towards the window, the barely orange glow of the sun hardly visible. “To me it always looked like he was under a full moon, no matter where he went. It’s quite beautiful really, to see even reality twist to the whims of a god. Or maybe its an unconscious effort, or, he was simply made that way.” Kisuke smiled and shrugged, eyes sharpening as he looked back at the other two captains. “But that wasn’t why you wanted to talk to me, was it?”

Jushiro, the more expressive of the two, grimaced. “Do you think Ichigo noticed that too?”

“Well,” Kyoraku huffed out, a teasing tilt to his voice. “I don’t think he would have given such precise orders if he hadn’t. All is well though, at least he has the courtesy to let us talk things through.” Kyoraku stifled a yawn and stretched, his body straining before he went limp on a nearby chair.

It was silent for a moment, no one else moving until Jushiro let out a hefty sigh. “Do you think it’s okay?”

Kisuke hummed, knowing the question could be taken in many different ways, but he was nearly certain of the particular path their own minds had wandered.

“I was worried about it too,” Kisuke began, slow and slightly unwilling to voice his own concerns. “But in the end, Aizen had only been loyal to Ichigo, and if my memory serves me right, then it is the best outcome.”

Jushiro rubbed the bridge of his nose, brows furrowing and eyes closing as he let out a sigh. “I trust Ichigo’s judgement, and as much as I support him and what he’s doing-” Jushiro cut himself off, blinking his eyes open and frowning. “I worry that such devotion could turn to something more…sinister. Aizen had always wanted godhood, no that’s no longer right to say.” Jushiro bit his lip, the gears almost visible in his mind as they turned. “He detested the spirit king for reasons we only know of now, and with such dedication to the cause that he was willing to have the world burn for it. I only fear that in the future, such attentions and dedication to Ichigo would become harmful to him.”

It was a possibility that Kisuke had already thought about, how obsessive the mind could be, especially one of Aizen’s caliber. Or his own even.

“I doubt Ichigo would ever trust anyone so thoroughly anymore. None other than his familiars at least. Those serving him will always be held at arm’s length, something I am sure Aizen is aware of, regardless of his own staunch devotion.” Kisuke turned his gaze back to the shoji screen, amused as he called out.

“What do you think, Shinji? I would say that you are also quite familiar with your former lieutenant.”

Jushiro and Kyoraku jolted in surprise, their heads snapping to the doorway that slid open. The blonde captain was cast in a backlight, his features dark and unreadable as he took a swift step inside. The door closed just as fast as it opened and the difference in light left them all blinking to adjust.

“Che, I think someone needs to turn on a damn light in here.” Shinji’s lax words were a contrast to his tensed shoulders and strained hands. Even so he moved easily, flipping the switch on the wall and frowning when only a lone lamp turned on.

Jushiro gave him a sheepish smile, “Sorry, I don’t keep much light in here. Kyoraku doesn’t nap as well when there’s too much of it.”

Shinji’s deadpan expression was met with Kyoraku’s goofy grin. “Maa, so nice of Juu to treat me so well isn’t it?”

“Whatever,” Shinji rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back against the front of the desk and huffing out a breath. “Aizen’s a freak of nature.” Shinji scowled and got straight to the point, unashamed of his eavesdropping. “Meticulous, calculating, conniving, scheming….” The blonde counted off on his fingers, lips curling back into a snarl of disapproval as he reluctantly continued. “….loyal.”

Shinji looked pained to speak the word, physically ill even, but Kisuke was impressed with his decision to try to be neutral. “Change of heart, Shinji?” Kisuke pressed, curious as to why the man seemed more open to the idea of Aizen being anything but a traitor.

Shinji’s scowl was fierce, eyes narrowing in anger. “Hardly, but even I can see it’s not a front. I know what his acting is like, had years of up close and personal experience.” Shinji paused, lips tightening and hands gripping at the elbows of his crossed arms. It ain’t a front. And quite frankly, it makes it more creepy.”

Kyoraku barked out a laugh, shoulder shaking in mirth even as Shinji rounded on him. “It’s not a joke ya dumbass!”

The elder captain waved him off, eyes crested in his joy as he gripped at his side. “I know, I know! Sorry,” Kyoraku’s laugh faded away into a chuckle, amusement lining his brown eyes as he stood up.

“Then in that case, I’ll try not to worry about it anymore!” Kyoraku held up a peace sign with a grin and Jushiro sighed in exasperation.

Kisuke beamed in amusement, holding out his own peace sign and waving it frantically in unision with Kyoraku. “Perfect! In that case-”

“You’re a bunch of idiots!” Shinji yelled out, hand running through his hair and making the golden strands fall in a wave. “Honestly, Ukitake, how did we ever deal with these two morons!?”

Ukitake paused from where he was giving Kyoraku a piece of candy, his brown eyes widening before becoming sheepish at being caught.

“Never mind.” Shinji turned abruptly and made to leave but Kyoraku’s voice made him still.

“Shinji,” the elder captain’s voice had gone back to a low timber, cutting though the air with a heaviness that settled on everyone’s shoulder. “Why did you come here?”

Shinji walked forward again, steps quiet as he reached a hand out for the shoji screen. “The rest of the gang and I wanted to talk to Ichi, I’ll just do it later.” With that, Shinji left as quickly as he came, leaving the three in the room alone once more.

“He seems troubled,” Kyoraku murmured, tilting his head with a frown. “Captain Hitsugaya isn’t taking this well either, and he has less of a reason to be close to Ichigo.”

Kisuke’s grey eyes sharpened on the comment, face becoming impassive at the possible outcomes of an emotionally unstable captain. Soifon was too loyal, but Hitsugaya had been hit personally. Hinamori was still asleep after all. “Are you implying that captain Hitsugaya is uncapable of separating his personal feelings from his duties?” Kisuke needed their opinion on this, but Kyoraku turned away and instead asked his own question.

“You’re the genius, aren’t you, Urahara?”

Aizen walked forward, fingers laced tightly with Ichigo’s left hand as they stepped out of the warped reality. When solid ground was once more under his feet Aizen stilled, vision slow to come back into focus and head swimming with a dizziness that nearly made him wretch. Ichigo still held his hand, grip tightening in reassurance as he spoke softly.

“Give it a moment you two, it will pass.”

Aizen took in a breath, his lungs rattling in his chest even as he exhaled with stilted motions. The ringing in his ears slowly left, and he was made aware of Urahara’s own wheezing gasps of air on Ichigo’s other side. It would have insulted his pride if the blonde hadn’t been nearly as effected as he was, and while he was still terribly disoriented, he couldn’t help but feel smug satisfaction at seeing Urahara drawn to such a state. The grip on his hand tightened to an almost painful degree in reprimand to his thoughts and Aizen chuckled despite himself.

“Apologies, Ichigo-sama,” Aizen looked towards where he thought Ichigo’s face was and was able to make out a haze of silver through his still distorted vision. The grip Ichigo had on his hand began to loosen and Aizen frowned at having to let go.

“I know you’re not, Sosuke.” Ichigo cocked his head back and Aizen was finally able to see him unhindered from his distorted sight. The small smile Ichigo directed towards him was not expected, nor were his words. “But I never intended on changing you.”

Aizen stilled, hand falling limply to his side as Ichigo turned from him, fingers finally slipping away. Then why had the god requested him by his side as his punishment? Was it not to change his perception of the world?

“Ah so unfortunate, could have done the world a favor otherwise.” Urahara grumbled from the other side of him, breath finally caught enough to plant a faux smile on his face.

Ichigo walked forward, snow crunching under his sandaled feet as he moved towards the fortress in the distance. “And if I had, would you have still been so sure of your own autonomy, Kisuke?” Ichigo didn’t turn to look back on them, focus solely on the horizon.

A spark of fear wormed its way into Aizen’s heart and he smiled, grin stretching across his face at the thought of his own powerlessness. “How exquisite,” he murmured, forcing his own feet to move forward and follow. “To feel this fear again.”

Urahara heaved a sigh next to him, dusting off the snow that had fallen on his form in his momentary stillness. “It pains me that I know how you feel.”

They walked in silence from then on, their guards raised and eyes sweeping across the banks of snow and dark windows. Their approach would not be hidden, not with how the god glowed, the light of his being reflecting off the snow and making the flakes shimmer like stars that fell around him.

Aizen spoke softly, gaze sweeping as he verbally alerted Ichigo to what he was sure he had already felt. “They are here.”

Ichigo paused, head craning back to take in the might of the fortress that they stood before. Between one blink and the next a woman stood before them, green hair still falling around her softly as she spoke.

“Lost, Shinigami?” She spat the word out and Aizen felt his contempt for her raise, his head tilting back to put her beneath his notice.

“Not at all, I’m right where I thought I would be actually.” Ichigo gave her a scowl before his eyes roved over the forms of the other scattered quincy, each cast in shadows behind pillars, yet none were trying to hide. “Would you mind letting us in? I have a lot of things to talk with Yhwach about.”

The woman reeled back, eyes narrowing and a snarl of indignant fury lining her lips. Aizen frowned, watching how the hackles of the other quincy rose in their own contempt. He could only see this going one way.

She leaned forward, her skimpy clothes taught against her body as she flexed her muscles in fury. Aizen gave her a cold smile, daring her to act on any of her impulses.

“As if we would let something so-”

“Candice,” a flat tone cut her off and she stiffened, continuing to glare at them. It bothered Aizen more than he wanted to admit, seeing her on a higher step than Ichigo and speaking down to him. His lips tightened minutely, hardly noticeable, yet the action did not go unnoticed by Kisuke who gave him a sidelong glance, grey eyes sharp.

Candice rounded on the other who had spoken, her mouth forming into a sneer as a younger, blonde girl stepped forward. “It’s not our place to decide.” Her voice was emotionless, almost bored as her eyes flickered between them. Her straight, blonde hair shifted with her nod, the bob remaining immaculate. “It would be in our best interest to lead them in, his majesty may deal with them.”

“Are you stupid, Liltotto!?” Candice’s voice has fallen to a hiss, jaw clenching tight and teeth bared.

“Of course not. That is exactly why I am inviting them inside.” Liltotto paused, tilting her head back as she gestured for them to follow her forward. “This way please, Kurosaki Ichigo, Aizen Sosuke, and Urahara Kisuke.”

Aizen hummed at her intention, watching in satisfaction as her green haired companion finally fell silent, spine stiffening and eyes widening.

“Thanks,” Ichigo spoke, breaking the silence that their names had caused. Easily stepping forward and past Candice, unworried about putting his back to her. Aizen was quick to follow behind, showing the woman the slightest uptilt of his lips, knowing it would continue to infuriate her before he too turned his back on her. Her spiritual pressure was abysmal, nothing a slightly raised guard couldn’t counter and it pleased Aizen to know that his power was still beyond many of those that would ever defy him.

Their steps echoed as they came into the fortress, the stone floor beneath their feet polished and clean enough to reflect the dim light of the torches lining the hall. Urahara whistled behind him and Aizen fought to ignore the man that crashed the serene silence that had overtaken them.

“This place is pretty big; I wonder how many of you there are? Hundreds, thousands?” The blonde came into his peripheral view, pace picking up to get closer to her but never daring to take a step in front of Ichigo. Aizen let out a silent hum, watching his feet. At least the two of them could agree on one thing.

Liltotto kept an even pace, unwilling to break their silence. Candice however, growled in annoyance. “What do you think, idiot? Of course-”

“Candice,” Liltotto spoke to once again cut her off. “You’re such a dumb bitch. Why would you answer when the enemy is trying to gather information about our army?”

Urahara burst into laughter at the jab, mouth stretching wide in a grin as he brought out his ridiculous fan. “Maa! So preceptive! Too bad,” his voice fell several octaves, grey eyes sharpening as he looked back at Candice over the top of his fan. Aizen felt how her reiatsu fluctuated ever so slightly, the shimmer of fear in it brief but there.

“She was going to say thousands,” Ichigo responded to Urahara’s initial question, no doubt having heard her thoughts before they got cut off. Urahara immediately beamed, patting Ichigo’s back in a far too familiar motion as he sang out his response.

“Ah! Thank you Kurosaki-kun!”

Ichigo heaved a sigh, the end of it coming out stuttered in his laugh. “Ichigo is fine, Kisuke. You know that.”

Urahara shrugged, moving back to walk a more respectable distance behind him. “It fit the mood more! Like the old days.” Urahara gave Aizen a taunting smile. “Wouldn’t you say, Aizen?”

“Yes,” Aizen agreed easily, smirk tugging at his own lips. “It was quite peaceful with you locked out of the soul society.”

Urahara clutched at his chest, feigning hurt at his words. “Our feelings are mutual then. Ichi should have left you gagged.”

“Liltotto” a voice cut through their bickering and Aizen turned to look, fully aware that someone had been approaching them. Urahara also peered over with false surprise, no doubt just as aware of his surroundings as Aizen had been. Liltotto paused mid step and turned her head to the left, waiting for the form to slink from the shadows before she spoke.

“Haschwalth, I was just looking for you.” Liltotto was quick to give him all of her attention despite her lax form. Candice came from behind them, moving closer to the other two quincy as if that would garner her some sort of confidence. Aizen smiled coldly, eyes narrowing as they followed her steps. Her fear was tempered by anger, but Aizen could see all of the subtle ways her reiatsu trembled.

“As you can see, we have some guests that wished to speak to his majesty. However I intended to bring them to you first, should you deem their need necessary.” Liltotto’s voice maintained its monotone drone, each syllable sliding out in an even rhythm that held no cadence or fluctuation that would give her away. Despite seeming younger than Candice, it was clear that Liltotto was the more intelligent of the two.

Ichigo tilted his head in agreement to her words, unsurprised that they were not immediately going to their spoken destination. “She’s right, I want to speak with Yhwach.”

Haschwalth frowned, head tilting to the side and blonde hair framing his face as he studied the god. If he found anything out of place then he did not say, and Aizen was almost certain that the quincy would not be able to lift the veil of mortality that shimmered over Ichigo by himself.

“You come by yourselves,” Haschwalth’s eyes flickered over to him and Aizen gave him the slightest upturn of his lips. “Options to join us were given beforehand to one of you, and I doubt that his mind has changed. This leads me to conclude that you have all come here with ill intent.” Haschwalth frowned, hand moving to rest at the sword on his side even as Liltotto and Candice were quick to move behind Haschwalth and out of the way. “Why should I let you see his majesty? Would it not be in my best interest to simply surround you and bring your heads to him?”

On the outside Aizen and Urahara were pictures of relaxation, each with their hands still at their sides and easy smiles on their faces. Urahara’s grey eyes were shining out of the darkness of his hat and Aizen could see how his guard became raised. It was subtle but there, only visible to him because of the hundreds of years that he had known the man. Ichigo hummed, the tone eerie and making goosebumps prickle at Aizen’s skin, hairs rising on the back of his neck. He could hardly hold back the chuckle that threatened to escape him, but the widening smile on his face was a lost cause.

For the first time in their encounter, Liltotto tensed, the fine lines of wrinkles crinkling at the edges of her eyes as she focused all of her attention on Ichigo, roving over his form as if she had missed something. Ichigo’s silver eyes moved from Candice to Liltotto, frown tugging at his lips as if he hadn’t wish to speak in front of them.

“Anything you say to me can be said in front of them.” Haschwalth continued, eyes narrowing and long lashes sweeping his cheeks as he blinked. Aizen narrowed his own eyes up at the man, fingers twitching to cut at his insolence.

“Haschwalth,” Ichigo began, voice carrying down the hall in a low timber, echoing off the columns in a way that should have been impossible considering he had only barely spoken above a whisper. Ichigo’s silver eyes focused solely on the quincy as he began again. “I am the light in the dark.”

Aizen furrowed his brows, unable to understand the meaning behind Ichigo’s message. The god’s silver eyes were intent, unwavering and Aizen finally followed his gaze back to the quincy. Haschwalth had gone still, his eyes wide and pupils pinpricks in his irises. The hand that had been on the hilt of his sword slid off and laid limply at his side, face going pale as the blood drained from it. His lips parted, the skin splitting open from where it had stuck together in its dried-out state but no noise came with it. Aizen stared, fascinated by the flicker of emotions that overcame the man, watching how finely his hands trembled and how his eyes quaked in his skull. Haschwalth blinked and swallowed, the bob of his throat easy to follow as he continued to stare.

Liltotto had turned to him sharply, eyes flicking back and forth between them to make sense of the situation but ultimately unable to come up with a conclusion to her superior’s state of distress. “Haschwalth?” She questioned, and for once there was a slight waver in her tone.

Haschwalth did not answer her, eyes still focused on Ichigo, the surprise beginning to fade and a sense of reverence creeping in. A root of devilish satisfaction took hold in Aizen’s stomach, creeping its way into his chest and filling him with a sense of pride that made his face twist further into a smile. Haschwalth’s lips moved, and while no sound was heard, Aizen was able to read the word off them.

‘Kami’

Ichigo smiled, warm and bright like he hadn’t just uprooted a part of the man’s reality from under him. And it was so painfully genuine that Aizen was certain that it was never meant to be mocking nor taunting. Haschwalth seemed nearly startled from the movement that came from Ichigo, as if realizing that the being before him was fully present and waiting on him. Haschwalth nearly fell to the floor in his haste to bow, forehead kissing the stone and hands splayed out in front of him, palms up as if to offer himself fully. Liltotto and Candice jerked back, eyes wide and faces contorting with surprise.

Haschwalth ignored them, speaking to the floor as if he didn’t dare raise his head towards the being that stood before him. “I give my sincerest apologies and beg for your forgiveness, kami-sama. I will lead you to where you wish as soon as it pleases you.”

Aizen watched how Ichigo’s face contorted slightly, sometimes still uncomfortable with how easily others prostrated themselves before him. It was something that Aizen was sure the god would once again get used to, given time. And despite Ichigo’s discomfort, satisfaction settled over Aizen’s shoulders, thick and heavy as he watched another powerful being succumb to the divinity that befell him.

Ichigo moved forward and Aizen gazed as his kind god fell to his own knees before them man, pushing his blonde hair back to grab at his chin. Ichigo pushed up and Haschwalth was malleable in his movements, his wide eyes staring at the arm that touched his face so freely. “We’ll never get anywhere like this, Haschwalth.” Ichigo gave the blonde a smile as he rose, taking the quincy with him until he was firm on his own two feet.

“I’ll follow you, it’ll be easier that way.” Ichigo gently pushed Haschwalth on the back between his shoulder blades, urging him forward. Haschwalth seemed distinctly uncomfortable now, glancing behind him towards Ichigo then quickly over to Aizen and Urahara. “You both know” he stated, and Aizen huffed, head tilting back.

“What a foolish question. My actions should speak for themselves, only true divinity can ever command me.” Aizen jabbed at the attempt he and Yhwach had made to recruit him, and while Haschwalth’s lips narrowed into a fine line he did not take the bait. Ichigo glanced over his shoulder and gave him an exasperated look while Urahara smacked his shoulder with the edge of his fan.

“This is why no one likes you.” He sing songed, skipping away towards Ichigo when Aizen made to swat at him.

“Please, follow me to his majesty then.” Haschwalth began to walk, hesitant at first before his steps gained confidence. Aizen followed behind once more, distinctly aware that they were leaving behind the two other quincy that had fallen silent in their confusion. He wondered what drama they would stir up, sure that the green-haired one would at the very least, complain to any who listened.

“K-Kami!?” Candace stuttered out in rage, pointing a harsh finger at Ichigo. “Have you lost you mind Haschwalth!?”

“It’s interesting watching it happen before me,” Kisuke murmured, tilting his head towards Aizen to better speak to him. “Ichigo spoke to me of this before, of how many will simply overlook him. Not all can see divinity, especially if their power is too weak to withstand it.” Urahara had made no effort to lower his tone, and Haschwalth nodded in understanding even as Candice hissed in outrage.

“Isn’t Aizen the one who deals with illusions?” She rounded on him, sneering as others behind her agreed with her in support.

“I am,” Aizen began, cutting off their satisfaction. “But even I cannot imitate the essence of a kami.” He smiled meanly down at her. “Illusion or not, no mortal could.”

Kisuke’s silent gag next to him was followed by a quiet “suck up” that he staunchly ignored.

“This is bullshit! What the fuc-” Candice’s voice was cut off as a blazing arrow sliced against her cheek, her eyes wide as she stared at Haschwalth.

“Know your place.” Haschwalth’s tone had grown cold, eyes hard in his abrupt anger. “This is not for you to question. Leave and do not presume to speak in his presence in such a filthy manor.”

Aizen’s brows rose to his hairline, lips curling in satisfaction at the woman’s thorough reprimand. Haschwalth turned his back to her and began to lead them once more, dismissing her and deeming any questions she had as unimportant.

They continued forward, and the dark halls remained the same as they trekked through the fortress, high vaulted ceilings reaching far up enough that blackness crept into them before Aizen could see their true top. Round pillars reached up just as high, supporting the weight of the decorated rock that hung over their heads. Torches burned evenly on every other pillar, letting the shadows creep in and encompass everything but a narrow walkway. When they approached a set of massive double doors Haschwalth hesitated for a moment, glancing behind before letting out a soft sigh.

“It will be fine,” Ichigo broke the silence that had lingered between them, stepping forward and planting his hand firmly on the large door. “He will know.” With a flick of his wrist the doors were swung open, groaning under the weight of themselves yet sliding smoothly. Aizen watched, fascinated as the Quincy king slowly looked upon them, head resting in his palm. His mouth was drawn into a firm frown, gaze first landing on Haschwalth before flickering over to Ichigo where it froze. There was a sudden pressure in the room, stifling tension hiked the shoulders of the quincy king. The hand dropped away from his face as he sat up straight, eyes never moving away from Ichigo as the god began to walk deeper into the room.

“You always did like your own space, Yhwach.” Ichigo’s voice carried easily in the silence, his footsteps light as he delved deeper into the shadows where the quincy king sat. Yhwach stood slowly, hands at his side and feet moving forward before he had fully straightened, getting off the dias that held his throne above the others. Haschwalth shifted next to him, uncertain, and Aizen only spared him a moment of his time before he looked back at the unfolding scene. That second had cost him, and now the quincy king was firmly in front of Ichigo, towering over him and looking like he had seen a ghost. His hands reached up, trembling as they cupped the god’s face, mouth contorting into something twisted as his breath came out ragged.

“The last time I saw you,” Ichigo began, bringing his own hand up to lay gently on the king’s shoulder, uncaring of how his face was gripped. “You hardly came up to my own shoulders.” Ichigo gave him a pained smile, and Aizen felt his own heart clench at the sight.

“You told them-” Yhwach began before he cut himself off, clearing his throat in an attempt to stifle his emotions. “You threw me from your domain”

Ichigo nodded, the motion difficult with the quincy king’s hands on his face. “And you lived because of it.”

Aizen found himself leaning forward, taking in the situation and hardly daring to breathe. Yhwach closed his eyes, hands falling away from Ichigo and face scrunching briefly before relaxing. Slowly, the king fell to a knee, head bowed low. “I lived,” Yhwach repeated, voice becoming rough. “I lived and watched them defile all that you ever were!” Spiritual pressure swirled out from Yhwach from where he kneeled, the anger in it potent and lethal, yet the man did nothing to move against Ichigo.

“I saw how that false god flaunted your power, smothered himself in it and forced my soul back into existence with the hope that it was you! He was greedy, wanting even the power that you gave me to live, my only reminder of you!” Yhwach stood from his kneel, hands gripping Ichigo’s shoulders on either side. Aizen finally deigned it necessary to move, but he found that he could not take a step forward. He glanced at his feet, surprised to see reality warped at them, keeping him trapped and away. Ichigo stood straight despite the weight of Yhwach’s heavy hands on his shoulders, eyes cast down as he continued to let the quincy king speak.

“And now you stand before me, still unwhole and soul torn asunder. Only you could have lived through such a thing, Ichigo.” Yhwach’s grip on his shoulders tightened, the fabric of Ichigo’s kimono scrunching and wrinkling under his hash grip. His fingers unclenched suddenly and relaxed, Ichigo’s familiars materializing on either side of Yhwach.

“King might let you be so brazen with him,” Shiro began, brows furrowing down in annoyance. “But we never finished your lessons in courtesy when you were a brat.”

“Indeed,” The elder one spoke, sunglasses melting away to reveal piercing blue eyes. Yhwach turned sharply, eyes widening at the spirit who seemed incredibly familiar.

“How cruel fate is,” Yhwach’s voice was low as he stared at the two who had materialized next to Ichigo. “To have me be the cause for your fragmented appearance.”

“And yet in this lifetime we have finally broken the cycle of torment.” Zangetsu spoke in a deep rumble, voice carrying across the throne room. “It is because of you that we had a chance. Masaki Kurosaki’s power was gained from you, you who harbored the original gift of our god.” Zangetsu paused, pale blue eyes shifting to Ichigo who listened with a pained grimace. “And when Tsukuyomi was reincarnated into her son, his own power was transferred back into him.”

Kisuke made an appreciative hum next to him, his blonde brows raising into his hairline as the pieces clicked into place. Aizen had no doubt that the man had already considered this possibility as soon as it was discovered that Yhwach held powers from Tsukuyomi’s initial incarnation. After all, it was a conclusion he had come to as well.

“What would you have had me do?” Yhwach questioned, eyes falling back onto Ichigo as his brows furrowed in apprehension. Ichigo sighed, hand landing heavily on Yhwach’s own from where it was tangled in the fabric of his clothes.

“I would have had you live, but not so driven by vengeance.” Ichigo’s voice broke the silence that had settled between them, but his words did not appease Yhwach.

The quincy king straightened, hands falling away from the god as he looked away, eyeing the throne that he had sat in not too long ago. “That is the one thing I could not have ever agreed to.”

Ichigo nodded, “I know.” There was a pause and Ichigo bit his lip, fists clenching at his side in a flash of hate. “I am able to take my own vengeance.”

The quincy king stilled, face blank before a grin split his face, eyes widening and casting a ferocious look upon his features. “Then I shall introduce you to the army that I have cultivated silently in your name. It is high time they become aware of who their lives belong to.”

Jushiro hesitated by the shoji screen, hand frozen in the air as he took a calming breath and slid open the screen. The waft of air that escaped the room was cold, and he was able to spot Toshiro seated silently next to Hinamori almost instantly. Ice climbed up the walls near him, but the crystals avoided the sleeping girl on the bed. Toshiro looked up towards him, gaze guarded as he followed his movements.

“Captain Hitsugaya,” Jushiro murmured, soft smile on his lips and he shuffled forward with a single flower in his hand. He knelt on the other side of the girl, placing the short blossom in her hair as he spoke. “It’s supposed to bring good health, I hope it helps her get better.”

Toshiro didn’t speak but he stared at the flower with more hatred than Jushiro thought it deserved. “It is unfortunate that it is needed in the first place.” His tone was as cold as the air he breathed and Jushiro winced at the jab.

“You’re right, it is unfortunate. But we all have a duty to fulfill, and she-”

“Did hers perfectly!” Toshiro interrupted him, fists clenched on his lap as he glared at the floor. “She was the best lieutenant she could have been, and when we won our justice, a traitor let that man walk free!” The young captain spat the words out with so much hate that Jushiro was momentarily frozen in surprise.

“Captain Hitsugaya,” he began, tone low and dark eyes meeting blue. “I want you to be absolutely sure of what you are implying.”

Hitsugaya stiffened before he smoothed his features, eyes landing back on Hinamori who slept through the whole ordeal. “I was referring to Aizen of course.”

Jushiro remained quiet, eyes closing briefly before he nodded and went along with the lie. “Of course. I’m sorry to intrude on your time, I just wanted to give my own wishes of health to the young lieutenant.” He stood and began to walk out the room, understanding yet still troubled by the other captain’s thoughts. He paused at the door, speaking to the empty hall in front of him. “Remember your responsibilities, captain. No matter how difficult it may seem, we have our own values to uphold.”

Jushiro slid the screen shut behind him and truly hoped that the young captain would understand the meaning behind his words. He didn’t think Ichigo would be one to care about how he was perceived, but the captain commander would be livid to hear of such implications of disrespect towards the god.