The roof tiles were cool beneath Ichigo's touch as he sat near the edge of the Kurosaki Clinic, one leg drawn up and an arm resting lazily atop his knee. Above him, a heavy blanket of clouds smothered the night sky, hiding the stars behind an unbroken sea of grey. The streets below were quiet at this hour, illuminated only by the dim glow of Karakura's aging streetlamps that cast long pools of amber light across empty roads and silent sidewalks.
He wasn't really thinking about anything, he just sat there zoning out. A rare moment of tranquil silence in his usually hectic life.
His gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the town, unfocused and distant, as he simply sat there. A cool breeze stirred the orange strands hanging before his eyes and carried them briefly across his vision, yet the clouds overhead remained stubbornly unmoving, hanging over the sleeping town like a great silent ceiling.
And, as silent as ever, Yoruichi appeared through the dark of the night, her feet landing mutely on the orange tiles of his family home. She sat down, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. And though Ichigo never moved his eyes from the space he stared off vacantly into, he could clearly sense and see every movement of hers in his mind’s eye.
“And here I thought you outgrew your lonely night forays,” she said lightly.
His chest rumbled with nostalgic laughter. “I’d hardly call this a foray.”
She pursed her lips and tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe not, but you’re still up here all by your lonesome, looking pretty broody.”
“Lucifer forbid a man get some quiet time to himself,” he said with a smile.
She seemed to pause, and he could feel her eyes fall heavy on his face. “Interesting phrase.”
He nodded to himself, still staring off into the dark. “Cultural idiosyncrasies tend to be. At least, that’s what I’ve found in my travels.”
“Hmm.” Yoruichi looked away and seemed to follow his gaze out into nowhere in particular. “I really should travel more.”
He didn’t say anything in response, but he wholeheartedly agreed with her. Traveling was a wonderful experience. Aside from seeing all the wonderful sights of a wide and amazing world, one also got to experience different cultures. How various people approached the world from unique perspectives and interpreted the same things in life through their own means. It was very eye-opening and good for broadening the mind.
“You should do that, traveling is a great and fun experience,” he said noncommittedly.
Yoruichi let out another hum, and a comfortable silence settled between the two of them. Well, perhaps not comfortable. But it was there, and very much noticeable.
The wind picked up again, from the edges of his vision he could see a flicker of her dark, violet hair some distance away. But still, he kept his gaze in that same spot, staring off into the nothingness despite how very aware he was of everything around him.
“But you know,” she started slowly, “after all that traveling, after all that exploring and adventuring, it’s nice to come home. To settle down and put your feet up around all those old, familiar comforts.”
Ichigo, near imperceptibly, tilted his head. “On that note, I’ve been meaning to ask for the longest time - Aizen’s been locked up for years now, how come you never went back to Soul Society?”
He could sense her stiffen a fraction, but after a few seconds, she relaxed again. Though he perceived the note of sadness that rang from her soul from his question.
“One hundred years is a long time, Ichigo,” she said softly. “Even for Shinigami. Long enough to wear down fond memories and goodwill. Worse, one hundred years of exile under the pretense of treason is more than enough time for various prejudices and mistrusts to form.”
Ichigo held back a sigh, she really had given up so much in the fight against Aizen’s conspiracy. She was a literal princess who threw it all away for her friends… for a society that just as quickly stabbed her in the back. A darker part of him wanted to let out a rueful laugh – being the self-sacrificing hero didn’t always guarantee a happily ever after.”
“It’s not so simple for me to just show up again like nothing happened,” Yoruichi continued. “Soul Society is a whole mire of byzantine politics and bureaucracy. There are a lot of people, and not just the nobility, who don’t want the current status quo of the Shihōin family to change. Suffice it to say, I’m not entirely welcome back there.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said dryly. “I was raised in that cutthroat environment; Hell, I excelled at it. I was all too aware of the consequences the moment I decided to throw in my lot with Kisuke and Tessai. Besides, I still have my core family – they at least, knew the truth. Even if they couldn’t do anything in the face of Aizen’s Kyoka Suigetsu.”
Almost reflexively, he rolled his jaw. And not for the first time was he filled with admiration for this woman, for her bonds of loyalty towards both her friends and her home. Even if that home didn’t exactly reciprocate that loyalty back one hundred percent. Especially since her loyalty wasn’t reciprocated. That made it all the more admirable, in his view. It wasn’t easy to risk everything for a world that didn’t fully accept or want you. And she may not have fought Aizen for those detractors specifically, but she still fought to keep the world they lived in safe. They owed her a debt even if they refused to acknowledge it.
But then, wasn’t it the same for him? Despite his irreverence and uncaring nature, wasn’t Ichigo also caught in the endless tangle of Machiavellian politics of the Nobility of the Devil Empire? Wasn’t his name also spoken in equal measures of reverence and loathing amidst their whispers in the dark? The more they feared and hated him, the more they venerated and celebrated him.
Of course, that was the messed-up way of the Devils. They fought for the Sins’ attention as much as they plotted to find daggers for their backs.
“What about you,” she said, her voice falling to a near quiet whisper. “Ever think about coming back to little ‘ole Karakura Town for good?”
No – those days were long gone for him now. He liked the thrill of the supernatural, he loved the crunch and the fast-paced dynamics of everything happening all at once, even if he grumbled about it. There was so much to see, so much to experience and immerse himself in. A quiet and humble life in Karakura would never suit him. Not now, not when he had seen so much of creation.
Besides, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. Humanity, his humanity, was so far behind him now. He had no place left in mortal life, not when his very existence threatened to destabilize and upend the living. He would be a potent poison to the very world he once sacrificed his powers to protect.
Ichigo gave a small, mirthless laugh. “I think I’ll continue to focus on my career for now.”
But his joke seemed to fall flat, as Yoruichi did not respond. Quite the opposite, he could sense a grimness rise and color her aura, even a faint touch of disapproval. And remorse… a strong undercurrent of remorse.
And finally, Ichigo tore his gaze away from that one far off spot on the horizon and allowed his eyes to fall upon Yoruichi. The last time they had sat up all night on the roof, she had sat right next to him, close enough to where their shoulders touched and her hair spilled over onto him. But now…?
There was a noticeable distance between them… far enough, where he couldn’t even reach out and touch her.
Solemn brown eyes met equally solemn golden-yellow – and Satan asked, “Are you scared of me?”
She continued to stare at him, the wind lifting the long and heavy strands of her dark hair and partially obscuring her face.
“Isn’t that normal?” The Shinigami answered.
He smiled humorlessly. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
So very, very normal. So very, very typical. That was the purpose of Satan – the intended warning, the intended enemy to stand against all that is good and virtuous and represent the evils and harms of abandoning morals and ethics.
…but intended by whom?
Certainly, not by Ichigo.
Setting his eyes back to the foreboding and dark clouds blanketing the sky and covering the world in shadows, Ichigo felt a strange sense of rebellion – both distantly ancient and very inherently familiar. And with almost a lazy flick of his finger, every particle of cloud and vapor was banished back to the sea, clearing the horizons and filling the night with the pinprick radiance of innumerable stars.
Yet, there was one glaring absence within the sky, one very noticeable detail that genuinely put him in a good mood. “I’ve really come to love moonless nights,” he said lightly. “I think they symbolize some amazing beginnings.”
Yoruichi stared at the stars in wonder, and Ichigo had to keep himself from chuckling in both amusement and admiration. She really looked incredibly beautiful as their light reflected off the sheen of her dark skin.
Nonetheless, he knew better than to give into temptation, not again…
Ichigo stood and dusted off his pants, and he gave one last, long look at the stars and the dark that held them affixed in the night sky. He walked over to the edge of the roof, and just before jumping off the edge, he looked over his shoulder with and gave a devilish smile. “You know, depending on how all this turns out, I just may be able to give you Heaven after all.”
And he left a stunned Yoruichi behind.
=======
Ichigo walked through the entrance of the house and made sure to close it as quietly as possible, lest he wake the girls this late in the night. Actually, the night was long gone. In a few hours, the sun would be up. He quickly made his way up the stairs and through the halls, past his bedroom and the twins’ and stopped right before his father’s.
There was no light from beneath the crack of the door, but Ichigo could clearly sense him awake and breathing in his bedroom. After a brief knock, Ichigo quietly stepped inside and found his father seated at his desk with a bottle of sake and a small cup before him. The sight made him pause briefly; however, Ichigo stepped on through and shut the door behind him with a soft click.
“I thought I told you not to spend all night talking with a pretty girl right outside my window,” his father quietly said as he refilled his cup and took another drink.
Ichigo chuckled to himself. “Sorry, forgot. I’ll try not to do it a third time.”
Isshin snorted. “Somehow I doubt you’ll be able to live up to that.”
Ichigo then walked over to the desk and lifted the bottle of sake, closely examining it. It was from a local distillery, and not too high in alcohol content. Not the best quality sake, but still miles better than a lot of the cheap booze found in some shadier parts of the Greater Tokyo Area.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink before,” Ichigo commented idly.
His father let out a hum. “I used to quite a bit. The Shiba have always been good with mixing things – you need a basic understanding of chemistry if you’re going to be making fireworks, after all.”
“What changed?”
Isshin snorted. “Your mother, what else?”
Ichigo frowned slightly. “Mom didn’t like you drinking?”
“Quite the opposite,” his father said as he picked up his glass and swirled the drink. “Masaki loved to drink. Problem was, she couldn’t hold her alcohol whatsoever. Ten minutes in, she’d be red faced and tipsy. Once she became pregnant with you, I stopped bringing alcohol into the house altogether. Sometimes, rarely, maybe once a year or so, when we thought it was worth it, we’d have a drink or two. But after she left… well, I never found a reason to touch alcohol again.”
Ichigo went silent and his gaze fell back onto the bottle of sake.
Nevertheless, he nodded his head along to his father’s words. He never knew that about his mom, that she couldn’t hold her alcohol. And once again, Ichigo found himself reflecting on the fact that he never got to know his mother as an adult – he only ever knew her through the rose-colored tint of his childhood.
“What about you,” his father asked gruffly. “You’re of age now, how do you like your drink?”
Ichigo crossed his arms and leaned against his father’s desk so that his father stared out the window and Ichigo stared at the opposite wall.
“Not my thing,” he answered. “Especially since my body just burns through it. It takes a special, magical blend to get a buzz even going for me. Even then I’d have to consciously lower my physical resistance. Regardless though, I have no taste for it. I’d rather have a fruit smoothie than alcohol. Tastes better too, in my opinion.”
His father let out a snort. “Typical uncultured brat. Utterly lacking the refined tastes of an adult.” And he took another sip of his sake.
Ichigo rolled his eyes and responded dryly, “Refined taste my ass. All those cigarettes have killed your palate so that you can only taste ash now.”
They both fell into a heavy quiet after that. With his father continuing to take idle sips from his drink and Ichigo staring down at the floor in thought. He never really spent much time having long heart-to-heart talks with his father. The few times he did, it was usually under less than pleasant circumstances. The two most pivotal moments he could think of were the first conversation in Urahara’s Shop several months ago, and the first time he had visited his mother’s grave after becoming a substitute Shinigami, back when Rukia was still living in the Kurosaki household.
And yet, both of those talks helped Ichigo gain an enormous perspective on life. For all that he grumbled and grouched and fought with his father’s antics, he had to admit, the man was incredibly perceptive and wise. Long before he had been born or had met his mother, Kurosaki Isshin had his own life and storied career within the pristine white paths of Soul Society.
He allowed his mind to wander, and Ichigo wondered, like Yoruichi, how much had his father left behind when he decided to make such a large sacrifice? And for a teenage girl he barely knew at that too? He had been part of the Shiba clan… did he have his own parents and siblings? Did that mean Ichigo had grandparents and uncles and aunts he never met? He recalled his father had revealed that Ganju and Kukaku were actually his cousins. Then, what other family did he have hidden away in Soul Society?
So many loose threads from his past…
Ichigo then turned his head and looked at his father somberly. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“The hell it isn’t!” His father slammed his hand down on the desk, causing the bottle of sake to jump and land back down with an audible clink.
Ichigo rolled his eyes, and his father caught it because the man only became angrier.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Isshin said through gritted teeth, and Ichigo could tell he was making a conscious effort to keep the volume down so that they don’t wake the twins. “There is no possible way you are blind to your own power and how utterly vile it feels!”
“I know my power better than anyone,” he said wryly.
“Do you?” His father shot back. “Even Aizen’s Arrancar didn’t possess such maliciously evil Reiatsu! And those were arguably the most powerful Hollows that the Gotei 13 has ever seen!”
“Dad, please,” Ichigo said dryly. “You’re a Captain-class Shinigami. All you’d have to do is flex your Reiatsu and every single human for miles and miles would fall to their knees in terror and panic. Quite a few would probably die too. Hell, you could start your own religion if you wanted to.”
“That’s not the same thing!” His father barked.
Ichigo slowly raised a single eyebrow. “Isn’t it? Was Zaraki Kenpachi a captain back when you were still on Soul Society?”
Isshin looked at him, briefly stunned at the abrupt change in topic, but he frowned as he took another sip. “Unfortunately.”
“I fought him, you know.” Ichigo said, making his father’s eyes widen briefly. “I had killed my fair share of Hollows by then but… when I first felt his Reiatsu, and his sheer desire for violence and carnage.... fuck, it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It felt like death was pressing thin across my neck.”
Ichigo let out a breath through his nose and locked gazes with his father. “To a human, Hell, to a rank-and-file Shinigami who can’t even pull out their Shikai, how much of a difference do you think they can tell between me and Kenpachi? You think we’re both not monsters in their eyes?”
His father kept staring at him, his expression set grimly, but then he let out a deep sigh. “It’s different, Ichigo. Whether or not an uncivilized brute like Kenpachi is a monster or not can be debated. But universally everyone in the wider cosmos agrees that Satan is.”
“Yeah, but there’s one major caveat you’re forgetting.”
His father looked at him quizzically. “What?”
“Me.”
Isshin blinked before mildly frowning. “What do you mean?”
Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and motioned out into the empty room, not toward anything in particular, but just to make a point. “Yeah sure, my predecessor was the single greatest asshole this side of the universe, but he’s dead. He’s been dead for centuries. It’s my ball to play with now, and, for what it’s worth, I’m way more powerful than he ever was.”
“Say what?”
Ichigo shrugged. It was the simple truth - he was far, far more powerful than any of the previous Crown Princes. In fact, that was the hallmark of the current Crown Princes, they were much more dangerous than the old generation. Even though their numbers weren’t fully filled out yet.
“I have no desire to conform to some prepackaged notion of what Satan should be,” Ichigo said flatly. “I don’t go around and make deals for people’s firstborns or demand virgin maidens be sacrificed in my name. I’ve got better shit to do. I’m Satan, and Satan is whatever the fuck I decide he’s going to be. So relax and trust me. Trust the kid you and mom raised.”
Isshin stared at him open mouthed for several moments, but then the man finally loosened up and let out a soft chuckle as he shook his head. “You really have it all figured out, don’t you?”
“Hell no,” Ichigo said incredulously. “Not even remotely. I’m making it all up as I go along. But that’s why I’m okay with it, it’s me making the decisions shaping my life now.”
His father seemed to deflate at that, and Ichigo could sense the guilt stir in his soul once more. It would seem he still carried immense regret over his decision to keep Ichigo isolated in fear of Zangetsu consuming his soul.
The older Kurosaki then let out a rueful chuckle. “I don’t know how she’d react to the whole evil incarnate bit, but your mother would have been proud of the man you’ve grown to be.”
Ichigo froze for a second, but a warm smile quickly appeared on his face and ducked his head and looked away. He heard similar sentiments from both Amaterasu and Tiamat – and while they had their mythical ties to the concept of motherhood – hearing it from his father was far more… endearing. He was the one who knew her best, after all.
His father then took a deep breath and his mood became somber once more. “Speaking of your mother, there is one other thing... something I’ve been keeping from you. Not out of fear or anything like that but… honestly, I simply didn’t know how to even broach the subject with you.”
Ichigo frowned and looked at him curiously. At this point, he wondered what secrets were left between them, at least those regarding his mother. He had other secrets, of course. Chiefly, his marriage to Yasaka. And he was not looking forward to the verbal beat down he would get from his father for that not so little omission.
Maybe he could guilt-trip Amaterasu for some divine intervention on his part?
His father then leaned back into his chair and let out a deep sigh, the man then looked him dead in the eyes and Ichigo sensed an immense wave of resolve well up inside of him. And Ichigo’s frown only deepened. What could he possibly have been hiding from him that would –
“I killed Grand Fisher.”
Ichigo went ram-rod stiff and every muscle and bit of bone locked tight.
…what?
His mind immediately went back to that fateful day fourteen years ago, the gloomy little girl by the riverside and him running towards her, his mother’s screams at his back. And the cold wind and the deep abiding sense of terror. Everything had gone black after that… and warm.
Warm from his unconscious body being covered in his mother’s blood.
He recalled the second fateful night, back when he was a substitute Shinigami and still so ignorant about the world… and Karin dangling lifelessly in clawed hands, surrounded by grey and lifeless tombs.
Blood thundered in his veins and the roar of pure, unadulterated Hatred filled his ears. The bones of his fingers cracked from how tightly he clenched his fists, and the edges of his vision began to creep with dark shadows.
‘Beloved!’
And in less than a second’s time Wrath had nearly slipped from under his skin, it had also receded back to the furthest depths of his soul.
Ichigo let out a deep, calming breath. At the same time, he reached out and touched Tiamat, giving her heartfelt thanks and a shower of affection. He could feel her phantom presence nuzzle against him and the sound of her soft and loving murmurs fell like cool drops of water in his mind.
“You okay?”
Ichigo blinked twice and cleared his vision, and he looked up to see his father staring at him with concern.
“Yeah, I’m…” Ichigo broke off as he struggled to form a coherent thought. “How did you… where was… when?”
Isshin sighed once more, staring down into the contents of his sake glass before downing it all in one go.
“A long time ago,” his father said, looking very tired all of a sudden. “It was back when you were training with the Visored to control your inner Hollow problem.”
That was years ago…
“Aizen had turned it into some failed Arrancar,” his father then said. “Why? I have no clue. Maybe it was another one of his sick, twisted attempts to test you in that obsession he had over you. Wasn’t even all that strong, in the end. Cut it down with a single strike.”
Ichigo found himself lost in that moment… a part of him felt vindicated, but at the same time…
Mom’s murderer is dead so why…
Why did he feel so hollow? Ever since he first learned of the existence of Grand Fisher, he had dreamed of its destruction. It was only his status as Demon and the irreversible consequences of bringing Hell into Hueco Mundo that kept him from doing it himself when he became powerful again. And yet…
“How did it feel?” Ichigo asked quietly.
“Not as good as you might think,” his father said sourly. But then the man ran a tired hand over his face and said, “No, I never blamed the damn thing. It was a Hollow and it did what Hollows do. But I always blamed myself for not being able to get there in time to help her. I never dreamed Masaki would lose her powers and fall prey to a run-of-the-mill Hollow.”
The revelations shocked Ichigo. He had spent years blaming himself for his mother’s death and, ironically, the very day he encountered Grand Fisher again in the cemetery, his father had been the one to tell him it was never his fault. So, to hear the man inversely blame himself in turn…
“I don’t think mom would blame you,” Ichigo said softly.
Isshin chuckled. “No, no she wouldn’t. But guilt is strange like that. It worms its way against rationale and intellect.”
Ichigo smiled faintly, and together the two Kurosaki men fell into silence. However, on the subject of his mother’s murder and guilty parties involved, Ichigo recalled one other critical piece of information.
“He’s also gone, by the way.”
His father looked at him curiously. “Who?”
“That Slumbering Quincy King; the one you told me about last time I visited,” Ichigo said. And before his father could voice his wonder, Ichigo elaborated, “It was the Soul King. He took back all that was his. Only the purely human variety of Quincy are left, those with fragments of his divinity have all been reclaimed.”
“Huh…” Isshin looked out the window and gazed at the rising sun breaking the horizon. “When did this happen?”
Ichigo shrugged his shoulders. “No clue, but from my understanding, the Soul King doesn’t exactly experience time like you and me. The concept of ‘when’ doesn’t exactly apply to him.”
His father’s eyes narrowed and he bobbed his head up and down. “I do recall reading something similar in the Shiba archives. Huh, I guess I’ll have to burn some incense and offer him a prayer of thanks.”
“You should,” Ichigo said earnestly. “Heck, all of Soul Society and Japan should. He’s earned it.”
Despite his personal grievances of how much the Soul King interfered in his life, Ichigo understood the burdens and necessities of leadership. And more than that, he had a deep respect for the sacrifices that the Soul King had made in his timeless endurance for humanity.
That was one entity who had genuinely earned Ichigo’s respect.
“Sun’s come up,” Ichigo said, as he cast a glance over his shoulder and out the window. “Once the girls are awake, Tiamat and I will say our goodbyes. I really do need to get back to the Underworld.”
His father fixed him with a knowing look. “Everything alright with your other life?”
“The usual nonsense,” Ichigo grumbled. “But don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. I’ve got good people around me.” But then Sirzechs’ boisterous laughter sprung from his memories. “Well, competent people.” And again, the wild antics of the Crimson Lucifer sped through his mind like a silent movie, causing Ichigo to frown deeply. “I have people…”
And with that, Ichigo bade his father a good night despite the start of the new day.
=======
As Ichigo left his father’s bedroom, his footsteps fell silent across the smooth wooden floor. He was very deliberate to not ruin his sisters’ morning slumber. But then Ichigo stopped before the familiar door of his bedroom and his eyes drifted to the little plate nailed to the wood.
His fingers absently traced the number fifteen and a soft, nostalgic laugh escaped him.
A lifetime ago.
Pushing the door open, he stepped inside and walked through, his eyes immediately settling on Tiamat lying beneath the covers as her long hair spread across the pillow. And despite her closed eyes and even breathing, Ichigo was well aware that she was wide awake and quite conscious of everything happening. However, he knew that this was her own form of quiet consideration, and Ichigo sent a wave of gratitude and affection to her for her thoughtfulness.
Habitually, his feet carried him over to his closet, and he slowly slid open the door to reveal the long familiar sight of Rukia lounging and relaxing on heavy blankets and bed covers. Just as she had all those years ago when she had lived with the Kurosaki family for several months.
“What?” He asked, an amused expression plainly painted on his face. “You missed the inside of my closet this much?”
Violet eyes immediately fell into a scowl. “Don’t be an idiot. It’s just what I’m accustomed to.”
“How sad,” he replied dryly.
Ichigo then stepped aside as Rukia slid out of the closet and dusted her Shinigami robes off. Her eyes then drifted and, warily, they fell upon the prone form of his Tiamat.
Very quietly, Rukia said, “She was already here when I came. I-I wasn’t sure if I was intruding and when I tried to introduce myself, she just ignored me and went to sleep.”
Ichigo followed Rukia’s gaze and settled upon the serene face of the ancient beauty with fond exasperation. That definitely sounded like something Tiamat would do.
“I don’t think she likes me very much,” Rukia said with a touch of apprehension.
“Nah, don’t take it personally,” Ichigo said consolingly. “She’s like that with most everyone. Honestly, she’s kind of a jerk.”
There was an immediate snarl within the confines of his mind, causing the corners of his lips to twitch. He did so love provoking her with his teasing.
But, just like him, Rukia continued to stare, near mesmerized, at Tiamat.
“She’s even more beautiful than what you described,” Rukia uttered softly, causing Ichigo to swell with a hint of pride. Rukia then gave him a puzzled look. “What on Earth does a woman like that see in a crass fool like you?”
Ichigo instantly scowled down at her. “I’ll have you know I’ve grown up plenty since the old days.” His gaze then flickered over her. “Not that you know much about growing, being permanently stuck vertically challenged.”
Her expression became outraged and Rukia harshly whispered, “Idiot!”, as she jumped up and smacked him upside the head.
And he let her too.
It would have been child’s play to avoid the blow, and even after it landed, he didn’t even feel it. But nevertheless, Ichigo gave her the satisfaction simply because he was feeling reminiscent and it was so comfortable and easy to fall back into their old rhythm.
As she crossed her arms, Ichigo looked out the window and at the sun climbing its way into the sky.
“You don’t seem as disturbed as the others after being exposed to my demonic power,” Ichigo noted quietly.
Rukia followed his gaze, her eyes turning grim yet still holding sympathy and understanding. “I may not have been with you when you were battling the other Espada, but I remember feeling your Hollow’s Reiatsu in Los Noches – it was already abominable then. Having your soul rewritten so that it is no longer human but that of a Devil? I didn’t have to stretch my imagination that much. Also, I’ve had more time to acclimate to the idea than the others.”
He gave her a grateful smile. It was weird to say, but he always felt an ease around Rukia, a sort of comforting camaraderie. Perhaps it was everything they’d been through, everything they’d done for each other. Perhaps it was the months of cohabitation and living with one another. Or perhaps it was because she was the first friend he made into the supernatural, and the gateway into a new life beyond the thresholds of everyday humanity.
Regardless, Rukia was a fixed point in his life, one he would never change for all the gold in the world.
She then turned away from the sky and looked down at the ground, sighing softly as she lightly began to play with a lock of her hair. “Do you think it would be okay for me to relay what you’ve told me to Soul Society?”
He looked at her with some mild surprise, but then his expression became solemn as he pondered. “Honestly? I have no clue. We’re all in uncharted waters now. With the Soul King restored and at the height of his power, the old status quo doesn’t exist. It may be months, or maybe even years, but Soul Society will be adapted into the greater supernatural world.”
Rukia then said, “Yes, but it wouldn’t do for us to be caught unaware. But, at the same time, I’m aware even a preemptive revelation would cause havoc and panic. I trust the Captains, but if this matter is leaked to Central 46 and the Nobles - they would not be above inciting more chaos for their own benefit and profit.”
Ichigo sighed at her words. It was the same issue in the Underworld – old decrepit things were always nipping at the heels of the Crown Princes, trying to incite uncertainty and reap harvest in the confusion. The difference was that he and his fellow Satans were capable of crushing all dissent as they held tyrannical authority over the entire Empire. Within the Soul Society, the only person who held that level of power was the Soul King who had been aloof and quiet for most of his reign.
Well… no more.
Which was a far bigger shadow over the future of the Shinto afterlife than anything else.
“You’re not wrong, Rukia,” Ichigo said quietly. “At the very least, I think you can confide in Byakuya. When it comes to Soul Society’s nobility and the Gotei 13; I don’t think anyone has a better vantage point into their politics than he does.”
Rukia began to rub her temples and groaned out loud. “But how am I supposed to relay all this information when I don’t even have all the pertinent details!”
Ichigo gave a small chuckle and said dryly, “You could give him those awfully drawn diagrams of yours.”
She immediately brightened up. “That’s brilliant! I can just use Chapi to explain everything to Byakuya-nii-sama!” But then she turned to him with a fierce scowl. “And my drawings aren’t awful, you brute!”
And to accentuate her point, Rukia kicked him squarely in the chin – only to immediately wince and jump back with a soft cry. “Ow! What the hell are you made of!”
He rolled his eyes. “What did you think was going to happen kicking someone so much stronger than you while you’re in sandals? Anyways, you plan on sticking around for breakfast? Dad wasn’t lying, I’m sure Yuzu and Karin would be thrilled to see you again.”
Setting her foot down with an aggrieved pout, Rukia let out a sigh and said, “I would love to, but I’m afraid I can’t. A Lieutenant’s absence is readily noticed; security and surveillance are far tighter now after Aizen’s betrayal. And there’s only so much leeway the Kuchiki name can give me.”
“Makes sense,” Ichigo said nodding. “By the way, I’ve been wondering, since you filled the absent spot for Squad Thirteen’s Lieutenant, did anyone take on the Captain positions that Aizen, Ichimaru and Tōsen left vacant?”
“Captains Hirako, Ōtoribashi and Muguruma for Squads Five, Three and Nine respectively,” Rukia said.
Ichigo blinked as something familiar rang with those names. But then it came to him all of a sudden and he looked at her incredulously. “The Visored?! Soul Society actually took them back?!”
Rukia nodded. “Not all of them, but their previous crimes were stricken in light of Aizen’s trickery; they were forcefully Hollowfied, after all. The Captain-Commander and the other Captains strongarmed Central 46 into allowing them back into duty – it also helped that the Kuchiki and Shihōin families drummed up support from many of the other Noble families. And while there is some prejudice from the rank and file due to their Hollow powers, ultimately, the Captains are the largest military deterrent of Soul Society, so most detractors remain tactfully silent.”
“Huh, the more you know,” Ichigo said, both his eyebrows climbing high.
“I really do need to go now,” Rukia said as she gave him a fond smile. “Do take care of yourself. And please, do try not to push yourself too hard, idiot.”
Ichigo responded with a warm smile of his own. “I’ll try. Give Byakuya and Renji my regards.”
With one last heartfelt look, Rukia stepped through the walls of his bedroom like a silent phantom, and she disappeared back into the steps of the dead.
=======
Ichigo spent the rest of the morning lying awake in bed, cuddling with Tiamat. The girls really were taking advantage of the summer break and sleeping in. But once they had awoken and they shared breakfast with him, he and Tiamat had decided to say their goodbyes.
Which was why they were now all standing at the foyer, with Ichigo and Tiamat having their backs to the door. His father stood behind the twins – Karin looking as serious as ever and Yuzu being her habitual bundle of concern.
“Well, time to get going,” Ichigo said, slinging a duffle bag over his shoulder.
Yuzu immediately began tearing up and came in for a bone crushing hug. He laughed as he returned her embrace, putting an arm around her shoulders. And as he turned his eyes towards Karin, the dark-haired twin stepped forward and scowled up at him.
“Don’t go losing your phone again,” she said wryly.
Ichigo chuckled and ruffled her hair, much to her annoyance as she tried swatting his hand away.
His father patted him on the shoulder and said, “Take care of yourself.”
Ichigo gave the man a curt nod and then the older Kurosaki turned and gave Tiamat a short, but polite bow.
“Thank you for looking after my son, I know he can be quite the handful.”
Tiamat smiled in response and dipped her head in kind. “He watches over me just as much. You and your wife have raised a wonderful son.”
His father’s looked surprised before his mien became touched and emotional. But nothing else was said and Ichigo caught the silent exchange of acknowledgement between two parents. He then lightly tapped Yuzu on the shoulder who pulled away, but not without giving him a teary glare.
“You better keep calling, mister!” She threatened heatedly, causing Ichigo to laugh once more.
“I will, I will,” he promised.
Both twins then turned towards Tiamat, and though their expression was still somewhat guarded, he could see a touch of acceptance there as well. Though there was still a hint of begrudging acceptance.
“Thank you for visiting our home,” Yuzu said calmly, mirroring the same polite bow Isshin had given.
“And thanks for looking after Ichi-nii,” Karin said softly, slightly averting her eyes.
Tiamat’s humor rippled through their shared mindscape, but she kept her smile polite and friendly. “You have my gratitude for your hospitality. And I shall endeavor to ensure he consistently stays in touch.”
And before anything else could be said, Ichigo took Tiamat’s hand in his and said, “Time to get going, see you soon.”
“Bye onii-chan!”
“Take care, Ichi-nii.”
His father merely nodded goodbye, and Ichigo led his dragon by the hand into the sunlight and deftly shut the door to his childhood home behind him.
He stopped just short of walking off the front path and closed his eyes. Taking in a deep breath, he inhaled the deep natural scents of the Earth and the air rich in Reishi unlike any other place in Japan. It was beyond familiar, it was an instinctive knowing, a distant sense of belonging.
At the same time, it felt so distant, so far away. Like a memory of a memory.
His thoughts then turned to the very many conversations that took place in the last forty-eight hours: and honestly? It felt like letting out a breath he had been holding in. Ichigo felt lighter; better and even more certain of what’s to come.
After his conversation with Set, Ichigo had been unsure as to what it meant for him and the dread Mantle that he bore. But after having to vocally express his thoughts and feelings to his father, Urahara and the others; it helped give him perspective and shape an understanding of what he wanted for his own personal future.
He supposed it was that old familiarity of home that helped mold what was still malleable in the present experiences of Infernity. And together, they helped him better comprehend the future he was sculpting with his actions.
“It is always a cathartic sensation, tying up loose ends, is it not?” Tiamat said as she leaned into him and nuzzled his shoulder with her head. “Like putting down a weighty stone.”
“Yeah,” Ichigo said softly. He then turned and kissed her on the top of the head. “Thank you for being so understanding and patient with me. I love you, beautiful.”
“And I you, beloved.”
Basking in the warmth of the moment for a few short seconds, Ichigo then let out a breath and said, “Right, time to get back to burning armies.”
And as he reached out and touched the fabric of space, Tiamat nudged him and said, “Beloved?”
He frowned as he turned towards her. “Yeah?”
But instead of answering him, she simply looked pointedly in a certain direction, and Ichigo slowly followed her gaze and his eyes landed squarely on the black SUV that had been parked at the Kurosaki Clinic since yesterday. The same one which he used to drive to the beach for their little trip.
“Ah crap,” he muttered.
Even though his returned supernatural status was basically an open secret for Karin and Yuzu, Ichigo still needed to go through the sham of keeping up the illusion. Also, it would be a real inconvenience to his father’s business if he just left the car there. He let out a heavy sigh.
“Wanna take a short road trip?”
=======
Things were interesting for the Demon Gremory.
Which was quite the novelty given her incredible age. She was well aware that her time had long since passed, gone were the days when the Legions of Hell could openly march across innumerable dimensions and lay waste to entire worlds for sheer pleasure and sport. No more could she sink an entire village from the tops of the Earth and consume their souls to fuel some dread sorcery. And of her numerous unsiblings that she warred and politicked with, well, frankly, nearly all were dead.
Why else would she spend the centuries slumbering away? There was naught for her to do in this new Empire. These new Pillar Lords scraped and rolled for bits of territory and commercial possessions; they were more merchants than conquering warlords.
She did so miss the crunch of old.
Alas, her old masters were all dead. And this new regime, championed by her own darling grandson no less, were of different minds and ambitions.
Though far, far more powerful.
Yet some things never changed. The tides of war had swept through the Empire once more, the surviving sons and daughters of the Old Lords hurled themselves like waves against the new Crown Princes. Though they were breaking.
As was customary, the Sins sat back, giving the privilege of dying in the meatgrinder of the frontlines to others – so their surviving family can prattle on about mercurial things like honor and duty and courage.
Well… nearly all the Sins.
Her eyes danced appreciatively over the youngest of the Five, taking in the turn of his frown and the austerity and clear warning sitting in his eyes. She bit her lower lip ever so lightly. She did so enjoy a hostile challenge.
“Darling Rias has proven to be an exceptional pupil.”
Of course she did; she was her granddaughter, after all. Her flesh and blood. Rias was naturally inclined to master the ever-churning yet subtle mutations of the arcane world. But she pushed thoughts of her child away, focusing again on the Demon Lord before her and the way he met her eyes without flinching.
Gremory elegantly crossed one leg over the other, the movement causing the dark fabric of her gown to shift and allowing smooth skin to be seen through the slit. She then leaned back into her chair and threaded a hand through her crimson hair, sweeping it over one shoulder and purposely exposing the pale curve of her neck.
“She has manifested adept talents in dark magic. Transmuting blood to acid, necrotic flesh curses and advanced petrification spells – alas, I did not have the time to dwell much upon theory. She will have to use her own imagination and creativity to further explore the possibilities.”
“You’re welcome to tutor her once the tournament is over whenever you want,” Lord Ichigo said, though not without a certain dry twist to his words.
“I am most grateful for the open invitation into your home, my Prince,” she said with a blatantly sweet voice.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said warningly. But, nonetheless, the flash of irritation quickly disappeared from his eyes, and he leaned back into his throne. “Still, I’m glad to see she’s made good progress.”
And it was odd to see that he genuinely felt such sentiments. Rias had no attachment to the young Lord Wrath other than being the younger sister of his fellow Sin. She knew that he agreed to take her under his wing as a great favor, along with Lord Serafall’s own younger sibling – but it was surprising to her that he was sincerely concerned with their growth and education. Honestly, he put in more effort into Rias growth than Zeoticus had. Her son had become incredibly lax and complacent under Sirzechs’ shadow.
To the point he treated lord Ichigo with the same complacency. Her boy truly deserved the mark of shame the Sin of Wrath had inflicted on him, and the punishment wasn’t even that severe. A hundred year burning scar? She would have done much worse.
Nevertheless, despite the disrespect her foolish child showed the Dark Lord, he was still so… considerate of her Rias. At first, she thought him just naively kind. But no, that wasn’t it. After their shared adventure in Malebolge, she understood the plain, simple truth.
He was just that monstrously powerful.
The strivings and politics of the Empire were simply that far beneath his notice. At worst, they could irk him. He truly was the perfect Demon Lord – aloof and far above the pathetic games of the Nobility. He was power incarnate, and all Demons and Devils craved power.
She was no different.
Though her means were a little… unorthodox, even by the standards of their kind. Every Demon had its vice, an attachment to a Sin. Or, more appropriately, every Sin had a hook in their skin.
And for Gremory, her vice had always been Pride. It was no surprise that Sirzechs had embodied that Throne upon his ascension. But Gremory had always been prideful in herself, in what was hers. In those first days, when they had freshly emerged from the infernal energies of Hell and came conquering into the Underworld, she had decided even then she would build a dynasty. She would have progeny that existed as an extension and embodiment of the pride she had in herself.
To that end, she sought the perfect father for her future children. Namely, her own.
Lucifer.
Her father and tormentor, her master and lover. How many countless nights did she spend writhing under his touch? In both pain and pleasure? And not just him, but all of the Sins. At one point or another she had shared a bed with each of the Crown Princes. But Lucifer had always been the one to possess her heart. Well, what was left of it…
But, alas, none of the Crown Princes of then would grant her a child. Too fearful, rightfully so, that she would use a child of their unholy union against them.
And beyond that, amongst her countless dalliances, she had even bedded many of her unsiblings, the other Seventy-Two Pillars. But she found them lacking, wanting. They were not her equal, certainly not her betters. Why would she give birth to a child for one she held in contempt?
Thus, she was left with but one choice.
Parthenogenesis.
Through fearsome rite – and few secrets stolen from Lucifer and his pet Lilith – she fashioned from her own flesh two children. Zeoticus was one, the other now long dead: consumed in the endless wars of their kind.
And how rewarded she was for her decisiveness with her beloved Sirzechs!
Her own child, carrying her name, her blood, her pride – overthrowing the Old Lords and establishing himself as sovereign king and forging an Empire anew! She was vindicated, her ambitions fulfilled. But still, Demons were nothing if not cesspools of want. It was not in her nature to feel fulfillment.
Which is why, as she gazed upon the young Sin of Wrath and as he looked through papers and scrawlings she had spelled for him, she could feel an all too familiar darkness writhe within her. Her womb gnawing at the rest of her flesh like an aching beast. But she pushed down those twisted passions – she was patient, after all. She could wait.
Ten years, a hundred, a thousand…
It mattered not; she had the patience of stars. And she did so enjoy the thrill of the chase.
Lord Ichigo flipped through papers, his brown eyes flitting over the pages rapidly. And as he finished, he raised a single brow and said, “I said good progress earlier, but if even half of this is true, then this is excellent. You did all this in a week?”
She smiled broadly. “I’ve had thousands of years to perfect my craft. And I know best how to get my blood spinning… even if it is in another’s body.”
He stared at her for a full second before snorting and returning his attention back to the papers. “Can’t say I’m not jealous. Sirzechs just threw me here and there in the Underworld. Most of the magic I learned was through self-study.”
She made a show of putting her hand to her sternum and made sure to put on her most sincere expression. “I would never presume to instruct you, my Prince, but I am ever at your disposal for one-on-one advisory sessions. You need but command me.”
And though her lips curved salaciously at the end, the expected rebuke or warning from the Crown Prince never came. Instead, he fixed her with a gaze of… something.
For a moment, ice gripped her heart as she thought she may have pushed her teasing too far and truly angered him. And though millennia had passed, the many beatings and brutalizing at his predecessor’s hands were still carved deep into her memory. Already the apologies and groveling were on her lips when, quite suddenly, the entirety of realm seemed to reach out, near joyously.
And within the same second, a third presence made itself known. And yet, not a different one. She blinked in confusion as she beheld a second Lord Ichigo step through the folds of reality. But the weight of his presence was incomparable and the moment their eyes met, his flashed crimson and she immediately dropped her head in subservience.
A clone? Had she been talking to a clone this entire time? But she hadn’t even sensed a single difference! From both manifestations of Satan she could sense the inherent tug, that demand for submission and obedience… but it was obvious which of the two was greater.
Silently, the visage of Lord Ichigo seated before her dissolved into a black and red haze, and it was quickly assimilated and absorbed by the greater part of the Demon Lord. And as he seated himself in the same spot as his clone, Gremory wasted no time sliding to the floor on one knee, her head bowed low and her eyes fixed downwards.
“My Lord,” she murmured reverently.
“Don’t start.” And he spoke in his usual irreverent and casual tone. “Sit back down Gremory.”
As she retook her chair, she found those same brown eyes studying her carefully. He frowned as he tapped his desk.
“What were we talking about again?”
And she knew well enough it was rhetorical question.
“Oh right, those one-on-one sessions.”
She blinked up at him… was he earnestly considering her teasing offer? Not that she would mind. Not at all!
Lord Ichigo then cupped his chin in thought and said, “Well… I’ve spoken about this with Tiamat and Yasaka,” and her mind instantly recalled those were the names of his two consorts. The Kitsune Empress on Earth and the legendary Dragon King older than even her. “And they’ve both agreed, tentatively. But instead of your proposed sessions, I was considering something more permanent and consequential.”
Wait…
Was he…?
That dark hunger returned in full force, coiling through her like a serpent, tightening around her ribs until each breath felt forced and heavy. A high-pitched whine entered her ears, and a feverish heat settled low in her core as ever treacherous thoughts began racing ahead of themselves.
The young Satan's words became fuel upon a starving fire. A hundred depraved fantasies flashed through her mind in the span of a heartbeat, each more possessive and deranged than the last, and she reveled in how readily they came.
And as he still stared so thoughtfully -
The things she would do to that young face, the things she would make him do to hers…
She could feel her breath begin to hitch, and even as she willed patience and tact into her mind, her fingers were twitching as she resisted the urge to throw herself at him and unleash all the deplorable – delectable – atrocities she would share with him.
For him.
As his.
She would be his, utterly and completely his. He would break her, he would rape her, he would savage and ravage and hurt her in all the most wonderful ways and she would scream his name in despair and delirium and delight!
And all that power, his power, that intoxicating, overwhelming infernal power, would clutch her soft and chain her down an-
Oh.
With a single motion he doused her desires with ice and water. And instantly she felt frigid rime creep through her heart and all her passions were banished as her fantasies were replaced with a future that was suddenly far more real and – oh… he did say consequential.
And Gremory stared…
Because more than a thousand ramifications circled wild through her head.
And Gremory stared…
Because the chains she fantasized about suddenly became an iron noose.
And Gremory stared…
Because it was a lone, black Bishop.
=======
A/N: What a chapter this turned out to be. In someways, it was eay to write, in others, it was very difficult.
The opening with Yoruichi was obviously a mirror of their conversation in chapter 26. Then, Ichigo was slowly reaching out to her, and she was reciprocating in modicum. But here, there is a very obvious distance, literal and metaphorical. Relationships have bumps and barriers along the road - but wisdom and love say to endure them with patience and understanding. And more than the aura farming, to me, Ichigo is at his best when he is being wise.
Definitely the most challenging part of this chapter was the conversation with Isshin. Both of them are deeply introspective men and generally quiet, but they are both deeply passionate and fierce in their own right. I found myself trying to balance their respective characters while keeping their identities separate. One of my major gripes about Bleach (no disrespect to Kubo, love the man) is that we never got to see Ichigo's closure regarding Grand Fisher. I've wanted to write that dialogue for quite some time.
The Rukia and Ichigo scene was seamlessly easy. I was just pulling straight from the first fifty chapters of Bleach or so - allowing them to fall back into their old dynamic despite both being well aware that part of their life is well over. In another time, another story, i would have liked to explore Rukia's bond and dynamics with all of the Kurosaki family as she did live with them for months. Regardless, the ending with Rukia drifting through his wall like a ghost was a direct recall of chapter 1 of the manga.
And then Gremory - a thematically diamteric opposite to the rest of the chapter. Loathsome, vile, wretched Gremory. Who's suddenly found out she may have bitten off more than she can chew.
But the Second Karakura Town arc has ended.
See you next week, hope you enjoyed!