Chapter Text
The midday sun sat high in the clear sky, and a stifling heat filled his lungs as Sōsuke observed the stretch of barren land around him.
Standing over an enormous crater, he noticed that some of the mountain tops had been blown away, as if cut in half by an unstoppable force.
A deep sense of apprehension filled his body as he saw who was standing in front of him.
He was in that dream, again.
On the other side of the crater stood Captain Kurosaki, cloaked in a column of black reiatsu so dense, it appeared as if flames were coming off her body. Long black hair billowed in the sharp wind, and her warm brown eyes now gleamed a menacing red.
Something heavy lingered in the air, and Sōsuke hitched his breath, feeling as if all the gravity in the world was constricting around him.
He wanted to run, but his body refused to move.
Her eyes turned to stare at him coldly, and Sōsuke felt a spark of unease ignite in his stomach.
Captain Kurosaki had never looked at him with such eyes.
“Aizen.”
He flinched, unable to remember the last time she had referred to him so formally , and Sōsuke tensed in confusion.
Half of her face was covered underneath a carapace of grey bandages, but there was no doubt that she was looking right at him.
“If I use this technique, then I will lose all of my shinigami power.”
Her red eyes narrowed, solemn and resolute, and Sōsuke finally understood the hostility in her gaze.
She was looking at an enemy.
“That is the meaning of final.”
A sense of panic began to rise in his throat, and he tried to say something in response, but his mouth refused to move.
Kurosaki-taichō, it’s me!
She stretched out her right hand, and the black reiatsu that swirled around her began to condense into a long blade, and for a split second, they locked eyes from across the battlefield.
Within the reflection of her eyes, where he had expected to see himself— was a monster.
“Mugetsu.”
Sōsuke woke up with a start, barely choking back a scream from escaping his throat as he clutched his chest.
Pain shot up the center of his body as if he were being split in half, and he twisted onto his side, feeling as if the entire world was shaking in his momentary delirium.
Within seconds, the pain faded as if it had been nothing more than a delusion, and he gasped for air, trying to regain his grip on reality.
Finding himself drenched in sweat, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, only to freeze in place.
The world was still shaking.
It was then he could hear the commotion of voices outside, and after a moment of bewilderment, Sōsuke quickly threw on a spare cloak, grabbed his zanpakutō, and stumbled out of his quarters.
“Aizen-fukutaichō!”
A group of officers ran in his direction, clearly panicked and confused.
Sōsuke glanced around the barracks, still feeling out of breath. “Where’s Kurosaki-taichō?”
“W-We haven’t seen her,” one of the men responded. “She might have already left for the First Division.”
Sōsuke frowned, knowing it was unlikely for Captain Kurosaki to leave without a word.
“W-What should we do?!” Another officer asked, clearly on the edge of hysterics. “The shaking isn’t stopping!”
“Calm yourself,” he ordered sternly. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet— it might just be a temporary disruption.”
While he had never experienced it himself, Sōsuke knew that when the number of souls between the three worlds fell out of proportion, the balance would start to crumble.
“Has there been any damage to the barracks?” He asked.
“Nothing major, but some of the older buildings are of concern,” the man answered, shaking his head.
“Go around the division and tell everyone to remain outside,” he instructed. “Report to Shinji if you see him.”
Without waiting for their response, Sōsuke turned on his heel and flickered away, feeling a strange sense of anxiety with Captain Kurosaki’s absence. He couldn’t imagine her sleeping through such a dire occasion, but she was clearly unwell last night, and had retired for bed soon after returning to the Fifth.
He appeared in front of their shared office, finding the hallway empty, then hurried towards the back side of the building to check her personal quarters.
“Kurosaki-taichō?” He called, taking a hesitant step inside.
Pushing aside the outer door, he entered a modest living room, only to stop dead in his tracks as he felt something stir in the air.
It didn’t feel like Captain Kurosaki’s reiatsu.
Moving on impulse, he threw open her bedroom door and was promptly blasted by a wave of turbulent spiritual energy.
In the midst of the ruined bedroom, Captain Kurosaki was lying on her futon, seemingly deaf to the chaos happening around her. Her body was emitting a torrent of black reiatsu which vibrated with such power and force, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp under the pressure.
It felt as if he were standing near the eye of a hurricane, and Sōsuke instantly knew—
This was the epicenter of the shaking.
The darkness began to converge above her, forming a giant hand, and he quickly realised that the black reiatsu was not her own.
He slashed through the shadow without hesitation, only for his blade to pass harmlessly through the entity, as if he was cutting air, and Sōsuke stumbled with wide eyes, caught off balance by the lack of resistance.
Whatever this thing was— he couldn’t touch it.
Grimacing at the realisation, he knelt beside Captain Kurosaki to grab her shoulder, and was immediately burned by the sheer density of reishi around her, forcing him to retract his arm with a painful hiss.
Had he been any weaker, he was certain that his entire hand would have disintegrated.
Panting slightly, he turned to look at her face, noting the cluster of cracks that ran across her cheeks. Tiny fragments of her skin began to chip away, and Sōsuke realized with horror that her body was starting to crumble from the inside out.
Her soul was on the brink of collapse.
Gritting his teeth, he reached out to grab her shoulders and shook them frantically, ignoring the pain in his hands.
“Kurosaki-taichō!”
Her head bobbed back and forth, unresponsive, and for the first time in his life, Sōsuke felt his heart swell with fear.
Was he going to lose her?
The very thought sent him spiraling into a fevered nightmare, and Sōsuke held onto her with trembling hands, completely overtaken by a crippling sense of helplessness.
Without warning, all the spiritual energy in the room started twisting into a tornado of black reishi, then surged straight into Captain Kurosaki’s body. A pool of darkness seeped across her skin like ink, and her reiatsu began to fade, weakening under the onslaught.
In near panic, Sōsuke pressed his hands over her chest and flared his own spiritual energy, forcibly injecting his reiatsu into her body.
It was normally impractical for Shinigami to share reiryoku with one another— dangerous, even— yet he found himself with no other choice.
The room flooded with purple light, and the darkness that spread across her skin suddenly came to a halt as Sōsuke released every last drop of his spiritual energy.
“Kurosaki-taichō!” He yelled desperately. “Wake up!”
Even with his reserves, it felt as if he was pouring a bowl of water into the void of space— he would inevitably exhaust himself within a matter of minutes.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he strained to hold the darkness at bay, and just as he began to falter, there was a tremor of heat, as if the sun was descending towards the earth, then his vision exploded with golden light.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Sōsuke slowly opened his eyes, finding himself lying in a rubble of furniture, having been thrown across the room by the blast. By some miracle, the rest of the building remained standing, but everything inside had been damaged beyond repair.
There was an unnatural stillness in the air, and he struggled to push himself out of the broken floorboards, only to notice the change.
The shaking had finally stopped.
Sōsuke dragged himself to Captain Kurosaki’s side, unsure of how much time had passed. The darkness that clung to her body had completely disappeared without a trace, but she remained still, as if lost in an endless dream.
“Taichō?”
A flash of red caught his attention, and he gently turned her head, discovering that the skin around her right eye was bloodied and bruised. His breath hitched with a mixture of anger and confusion, unable to comprehend what happened, but there was no doubt that her right eye was gone.
Her eyelashes suddenly fluttered as a small crease formed between her brows, and before he could react, Captain Kurosaki’s left eye snapped open.
Sōsuke flinched in surprise, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
In her eye, two irises spun with a myriad of colors, completely unlike her usual brown, or even the red of his nightmare.
She blinked slowly, and just as quickly as it appeared, the twin irises merged, revealing a single brown eye, innocuous and familiar.
A small groan escaped her lips and she squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to readjust her hazy vision.
“…Aizen?”
Sōsuke froze, suddenly taken back to that terrible dream, and his stomach began to twist with the impossible notion.
Captain Kurosaki was clearly looking directly at him, and had even spoken his name, yet there was no doubt within the depths of his soul, that the person she was calling out to—
Was not him.
When Ichigo returned to her room, she collapsed face first into the futon, feeling exhausted beyond belief.
She slowly opened her eyes, half hoping to see Aizen and Zangetsu lounging on the skyscrapers, but found herself standing in the streets of Karakura Town, and she instantly knew— this wasn’t her Inner World.
Ichigo spun around in a daze, finding the city desolate and barren. Behind her, the doors to the Kurosaki Clinic opened on its own, as if welcoming her inside.
Her hand instinctively moved over her shoulder, reaching for Zangetsu, but was met with empty air, and she froze.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so vulnerable.
Bracing her nerves, Ichigo took a measured step into the clinic and rounded the corner of the hallway, coming face to face with the man sitting on the floor of the living room.
He raised his head, meeting her gaze. “Welcome back.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, finding the man exactly as she had remembered— except this time, he had two irises in each eye.
“It’s you,” she whispered.
Ichigo had marked their last encounter as a bizarre dream she never hoped to have again, but after what Aizen had revealed about the Soul King, it was impossible to turn a blind eye to this man’s plight.
She slowly sat down across from him, torn between caution and curiosity.
“Are you really him?” She blurted.
Compared to the mutilated body that she saw in the Royal Realm, the man in front of her was obviously still whole, appearing no different than the dignified nobles of Seireitei.
“I am merely a fragment of his memory, anchored here by our shared power,” he answered politely.
“What about the seal?” She asked. “Isn’t it keeping you trapped in the Royal Realm?”
“My consciousness has long since faded from my body, and what remains in the seal is nothing more than a husk— a vessel to maintain the balance of the universe.”
She grimaced, feeling horrified by the bare truth.
“I saw your memories,” she said stiffly. “Why did you let them do it? The Shinigami— Ichibē— they all—”
Ichigo clenched her jaw, unable to finish her sentence as she lowered her head in shame.
They killed you.
“I saw a future that was better off because of it,” he replied. “There would only be a small price to pay for my freedom.”
“Freedom?” She repeated incredulously. “They desecrated your corpse, scattered your body parts over the face of the earth, and placed you in a gilded cage!”
“I know of their sins,” he said calmly. “When the time comes, the Shinigami will pay for their transgressions.”
Ichigo paused, feeling a chill roll down her spine as suddenly saw him for who he truly was— a god dwelling amongst men.
She regarded him with wary eyes. “Are you… aware of your body parts?”
“To a certain degree.”
Ichigo perked, a fleeting sense of hope rising in her chest. “Then you must know what happened to Mimihagi recently— its power is fading.”
“Quite the contrary,” he corrected. “The divine power of stagnation has never been stronger.”
Ichigo frowned, confused by his answer.
“How can that be?” She demanded, fighting the urge to shake him. “Ukitake is dying!”
“I’m aware,” he said evenly.
Before Ichigo could protest, the man raised his right hand and extended it towards her, and she nearly jumped back in surprise, reluctant to touch him after what had happened last time.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said gently. “It belongs to you.”
Ichigo glanced down to see a pool of shadow sitting within his palm, and she froze, recognising what was in his hand.
“What the hell is that?” She asked, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding.
“The universe is beginning to correct itself, and the divine energy that stems from the collective will is now consolidating around you.”
The memory of Ichibē’s intended betrayal flickered across the forefront of her mind, and Ichigo reeled back as if she had been stung.
“I don’t want it,” she said hurriedly, pushing his hand away. “I’m not interested in any of it!”
“It’s too late,” he said curtly. “You have already been acknowledged by Irazusandō.”
Ichigo blinked, recalling the long cobblestone path of visions and memories. “You mean the training that I did at Ichibē’s temple?”
“Irazusandō has existed long before Ichibē built the walls of his palace around it,” the man replied. “It is not a place of training, but of trial— to see if your soul can bear the weight of creation.”
A heavy silence fell between them as Ichigo tried to wrap her mind around the revelation.
“But, I-I’m not a god,” she said shakily.
“Neither am I,” he said. “We are simply scions of the collective will. I was not the first, and you will not be the last.”
Ichigo scowled, growing more frustrated. “What does that mean?”
“Souls are pure energy,” he explained. “When a large number of them die with a grievance in their heart, their collective will breeds divine power— a force that governs desires into existence.”
Ichigo paused, eyes widening at the sudden realisation. “…like the Hōgyoku?”
“A poor imitation of divinity, but an imitation nonetheless,” he agreed with a shallow nod. “Those who are born of the collective will can bestow an engraving of power by sharing a piece of their soul.”
“Which is how Yhwach gave his Sternritter schrifts,” she concluded.
“Correct.”
Ichigo frowned in hesitation. “Does that mean you’ve given people special powers?”
“Every member of the Zero Division has a fraction of my divinity,” the man answered. “It was I who gave Ichibē the ability to discern the true name of all things.”
“Then what happens to them if you die?” She asked curiously.
Ichigo hadn’t stuck around long enough after defeating Yhwach, but after helping to revive Ichibē through some miraculous power, she figured the rest of the Royal Guard would be alright.
“Their lives are tied to the palace, which is held together by the divine power of whoever is caged inside the seal— whether it’s my corpse, or my son’s.”
Ichigo froze at the mental image. She would have never imagined that Yhwach’s body could be used as the new linchpin, and a knot of revulsion settled in the pit of her stomach.
If it hadn’t been him— it would have been her.
“However, if a portion of that divinity were to accept a new host…”
He extended his right hand again, and Ichigo felt a sense of horror grip her body, finally realising what was in the palm of his hand.
“Why…?” She demanded, voice breaking with despair. “Why is Mimihagi here?”
The man didn’t waver, seemingly unmoved by her outburst. “Your soul has been marked Irazusandō. All the scattered remnants of divine power will eventually come to you— Mimihagi just happened to be the first.”
“Tell it to go back!” She yelled desperately. “I don’t need its power, but Ukitake does! The longer—”
“It’s too late,” he said again. “Its sentience has nearly faded into obscurity, and I can no longer contain it for you.”
Ichigo began to tremble. “What do you—”
Before she could finish, a tsunami of black reiatsu broke through the walls of her home, and a giant hand emerged from the darkness behind her, pinning her to the floor. Shadows began to seep into her skin, and her limbs swelled painfully in all directions, expanding and contracting at impossible angles as the spiritual energy in her body exploded out of control.
It felt as if she was being engulfed by the ocean, crushed under a weight so heavy that she couldn’t move an inch.
“You must subdue it,” he ordered, voice echoing in the distance. “If you allow it to absorb you, your soul will be destroyed.”
Ichigo gritted her teeth, straining against the shadows, but she remained frozen in perpetual agony, unable to advance or retreat. Memories rapidly flickered across the forefront of her mind— a dark, candlelit shrine, a thousand faces crying in desperation, and a stream of anguished voices.
“Mimihagi-sama, Mimihagi-sama—”
Ichigo clenched her hands as a wave of misery filled her heart. “I-I can’t—”
In the end, she would have to kill Ukitake to save herself.
“The divine hand of heaven— save our child—”
Her eyes welled with tears as she fought to keep conscious. “If I die… can Mimihagi be returned to Ukitake?”
A beat of silence lingered in the air before the man finally answered.
“It’s possible.”
Ichigo felt her lips twist into a bitter smile, knowing her decision was already made.
She had never belonged in the past.
Perhaps this was always her destiny.
As the last thread of her resistance broke, Ichigo closed her eyes, released all the tension in her body— and let go.
The shadows instantly turned to encircle her, as if welcoming her into its cold embrace, and she began to sink into an ocean of darkness.
“—taichō!”
Ichigo stirred slightly, but found her body unresponsive. Her senses dulled, and the pain that wrecked her body moments before disappeared like a fleeting dream.
Just as the last of her consciousness began to slip away— the pressure ceased.
“Kurosaki Ichigo!”
Her eyes shot open at the familiar voice and she took in a sharp breath, her body curling on instinct to protect what was left of her soul.
A large figure loomed above her, and Ichigo turned to see Aizen crouching over her on his hands and knees, blocking the torrent of black reiatsu with his own body.
“A-Aizen?” She cried in shock, eyes widening. “What—”
“How dare you,” he snarled.
He reached out to grab her face, fingers digging into her cheeks with a punishing grip as his expression turned furious.
“Are you so willing to sacrifice yourself?” He scolded, raising his voice in a true display of emotion.
Ichigo shook her head in defiance. “Ukitake will die if I take Mimihagi’s power!”
“He’s already on the brink of death,” he argued scathingly. “How will you guarantee he survives if you fail here?”
She hesitated. “I-I can’t, but—”
“Then you do it,” Aizen said firmly. “Otherwise—”
His face suddenly twisted with pain as the shadows converged at his back, wrapping around his body in an attempt to swallow him.
“Stop it!” She screamed frantically, reaching out to grab his shoulders. “Even with the Hōgyoku, your soul can’t bear the weight!”
He glared at her, clearly torn between a mixture of anger and pain. “Would you rather die?”
Ichigo clenched her teeth. “I was never supposed to be here in the first place! If I die, I can break our soul-tie and you’ll be able to merge with your other half!”
Something in Aizen’s face seemed to shift, like a mask slipping out of his control, and he leaned down, his forehead nearly touching hers.
“If you die, I’m going to destroy what’s left of this world, and every last person that you failed to protect will be burned to ashes with you. Wager with your life if you dare! ”
Ichigo felt her breath hitch as she stared at him in shock.
He was absolutely serious.
“Aizen, you—”
“Make no mistake, Kurosaki Ichigo,” he whispered, hand tightening around her face. “Your life isn’t yours to give away.”
His eyes darkened with madness.
“It’s mine.”
A deafening silence fell between them, and Ichigo froze in disbelief, unable to garner a response.
Suddenly, a sharp snap echoed in her ears, and Ichigo glanced down to see the Hōgyoku in Aizen’s sternum crack open, unable to bear the brunt of Mimihagi’s power.
He staggered with a pained hiss as the shadows began to consume his soul, and Ichigo instinctively reached out to grab him, eyes wide with panic.
“Aizen!”
Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist and twisted their positions, pinning him beneath her as she hurriedly ripped away the darkness that clung to his body.
An eldritch screech pierced her ears as the shadows retreated, only to converge above her head, forming a giant black eye.
Ichigo panted with exhaustion, yet a fierce determination rose in her chest as she held Aizen at her side, a single thought reverberating in her head.
Not him.
She craned her neck, staring straight into Mimihagi’s eye.
“Sorry,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t give you my life after all.”
A powerful surge of reiatsu rushed through her veins as Ichigo stretched out her arm, and Zangetsu materialised in her hand, brimming with golden light.
For a moment, it felt as if the world came to a standstill.
She could feel the steady beat of her own heart, and the thrum of power at her fingertips as she raised Zangetsu above her head, condensing all her remaining reiatsu to the edge of her blade.
Then she swung.
An arc of golden light blasted through the void of space, tearing through the darkness as if it were nothing more than an empty facade, and the remnants of Mimihagi’s eye burst into particles of reishi.
Ichigo collapsed onto her knees, completely drained of all energy as the world around her began to crumble away like a dying star.
A searing pain shot across her right eye, and she flinched, reaching up to clutch half of her face as the black sky split across the stratosphere like a curtain being drawn. The darkness receded into the horizon, revealing a striking sunset underneath, and Ichigo suddenly found herself transported to an unfamiliar world.
In every direction as far as she could see, was an eerily still ocean, reflecting the cloudless sky above her.
Rubbing the lingering discomfort from her eye, she glanced at her side, only to see that Aizen had disappeared without a trace, and a sense of panic gripped her heart as she reached out to empty air.
“You’ve done it.”
Ichigo spun around at the familiar voice and raised her head, staring straight into the golden eyes of the Soul King.
For a moment, she remained frozen in surprise, noting that he no longer had two irises in each eye, and Ichigo raised a trembling hand to her own face, realising what had happened without having to look in a mirror.
”It suits you,” he said in a gentle tone.
Ichigo dropped her arm, feeling numb with shock as she stared blankly into the distance. As much as she hoped that everything had been a terrible dream, she couldn’t deny the familiar current of Mimihagi’s power coursing through her veins.
She had killed Ukitake.
“Don’t despair,” he said calmly. “This was always his fate.”
He turned his wrist, as if conjuring something into existence, and a long red ribbon suddenly appeared in his outstretched hand.
“However, you can bestow him a new one.”
The man took her hand and gently placed the ribbon in her palm.
“This is the Primordial Sea,” he explained calmly. “It’s a divine boundary outside the confines of the Three Worlds. Here, there is no life or death.”
Ichigo froze, instantly recognising Ukitake’s spiritual energy from the ribbon, and her chest burned with emotion as she tightly clutched the tattered cloth.
“What do I do?” She asked hoarsely, voice laced with exhaustion.
Releasing her hand, the man took a small step back. “The power of stagnation is yours. Do with it what you will.”
Ichigo stilled, understanding the intent of his words, and she felt her lips curl with anger.
“Then why did you give it to me in the first place?” She demanded, reaching out to grab his arm. “Ukitake suffered for years —”
“He would have died together with me,” he answered. “Have you forgotten that reality?”
Ichigo faltered, taken aback by the memory of Ukitake’s sacrifice, and she gripped his wrist tighter. “Are you… planning to die?”
He regarded her with one final look before his body began to glow, gradually dispersing into starlight.
“My freedom will only be granted in death,” he revealed, voice unwavering. “A price you once paid for me—”
A small smile appeared on his face before he fully disappeared into the air.
“And one you must pay again.”
Jūshirō didn’t have many regrets in his life.
After being granted a second chance, he had decided to always live in the moment, practice gratitude, and accept that some things in life were simply out of his control.
When his disease began to relapse more and more, his thoughts of concern were not for himself, but the god who had saved him.
Having housed the Soul King’s right hand for most of his life, Jūshirō knew that something was terribly wrong, yet he remained powerless to help as his health continued to slip away.
Once he was admitted to the Fourth Division, confined to a respirator, all he could do was watch as Unohana’s expression became darker, as Shunsui grew restless, and the windows of his consciousness dwindled to bleary moments of awareness.
Then the world began to shake.
He felt the exact moment the last trace of Mimihagi’s power left him, and he choked painfully for air as Unohana came rushing into the room.
A pair of firm hands held his shoulders down as Kaidō spells sprang to life around him, filling his body with a rush of healing Kidō— but he knew it was futile.
Without Mimihagi holding his body together, it would only be a matter of time before the rest of his organs began to shut down.
Shunsui’s familiar reiatsu then burst into the room like a hurricane.
“Ukitake, I swear to god— if you die on me—”
Straining to retain the last of his consciousness, he reached out to grab Shunsui’s hand as firmly as he could while shaking his head.
Let me go.
“No!” Shunsui cried. “Not like this—”
Jūshirō coughed, taking one last agonising breath before his consciousness slipped away, falling into darkness.
There was a beat of stillness as his soul sank into oblivion, and he felt a hint of regret mar his final thoughts, knowing that he was dying in such a helpless manner.
Just as he began to lose his last remaining awareness, there was a tug behind his sternum, as if he was being pulled up on a string, and a powerful force suddenly dragged him from the depths of nihility.
He broke through the surface with a gasp, hand clutching his chest as if bracing for the searing pain of his next breath— yet nothing came.
Instead, he found himself staring up at a pristine sky, a gradient of yellow and purple hues that was softened by the descending sun.
He quickly sat up, surprised to see that he was lying in ankle deep water, which seemed to stretch endlessly into the empty horizon. The sunlight glittered on the water’s surface like diamonds, and a fleeting sense of recognition passed through his mind.
This was the place where Mimihagi had once saved him, except this time, the right hand of the Soul King was nowhere to be found.
In its place stood a familiar figure, with their back turned towards him, and Jūshirō blinked in shock, recognising the familiar slope of her shoulders and distinct orange hair.
He rose to his feet and took a hesitant step forward. “…Ichigo?”
She turned slowly, and Jūshirō felt his greeting die in his throat as he locked eyes with her from across the water.
If the eyes were the window to the soul, Ichigo had always appeared steady, her warm brown eyes reflecting the fierce loyalty and strength that marked his impression of her from the day they first met.
The person standing in front of him certainly looked like Ichigo, but seemed entirely alien— a sense he had felt only once before, from the god who had saved him.
The twin irises in her eyes, glimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors, was enough of a sign that things had changed far beyond his imagination.
Ichigo exhaled heavily as her face twisted with grief. “Ukitake-taichō…”
Before he could respond, she bowed her head and promptly broke down into tears.
“I— I’m so sorry,” she cried, voice shaking with sobs. “All of this— it’s my fault—”
Jūshirō hurriedly reached out to grab her shoulders, panicked by her sudden outburst.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Whatever happened, you don’t need to blame yourself— I know it wasn’t your fault—”
“Yes it was,” she said insistently, crying bitterly. “I should have never been here. This whole time, I was just slowly killing you—”
“Ichigo,” he said sternly. “My life was always fated to be short, and my illness is no fault of yours.”
She bit down on her lip and scowled. “You should have lived! Mimihagi would have never left you, had I not taken its power.”
Having his suspicions confirmed, Jūshirō sighed quietly and squeezed Ichigo’s shoulders in a reassuring grip.
“You must have needed it more than I did,” he said, reaching up to gently wipe her tears. “So please, don’t cry.”
Ichigo let out a choked sob and shook her head. “I’m sorry— I... I didn’t mean to, but I—”
“Didn’t have a choice?” He finished, raising his brows.
Knowing Ichigo’s character, he was fairly certain that she had been just as clueless as the rest of them, and wouldn’t have resorted to this outcome had there been another way.
“What happened to you?” he asked, shooting her an encouraging smile. “I assume this is connected to the future that you’re from.”
He normally refused to hear about the future, but seeing his death draw near, Jūshirō now hoped he could shoulder even a fraction of Ichigo’s burden before he passed.
Taking a deep breath, she quickly wiped her face. “I was marked by Irazusandō— whether I want it or not, the scattered parts of the Soul King’s power will eventually find their way to me.”
He frowned slightly, trying to take in the new information. “Irazusandō?”
“It’s a hidden dimension inside the Royal Palace,” she explained quietly. “I was trained there with the hopes of replacing the Soul King.”
A beat of silence fell between them as he blinked in disbelief, realising what that meant for Ichigo’s past.
Only a handful of Shinigami knew the truth about Soul Society’s creation, and being the bearer of the right hand, Jūshirō had more glimpses into Seireitei’s ugly history than most.
“How could they…” he muttered, aghast at the mere thought. “You were just a human then— a child!”
Ichigo lowered her gaze as a flicker of sadness passed her eyes. “The war had taken a significant toll on us, so I agreed to go with the Zero Division.”
Jūshirō grimaced, feeling a pang of regret in his heart. “Be honest, Ichigo— was I dead at this point? Or did I truly do nothing to stop you?”
“You couldn’t have known!” She said hurriedly, waving her hands. “I didn’t even know until recently—”
“You’re wrong,” he said dejectedly. “I’ve seen the true nature of the Soul King— I know he is nothing more than a prisoner of the Three Worlds.”
Ichigo began to stammer. “E-Even so! I could never blame you for something like that! I was willing to go, regardless of the reason!”
Jūshirō bowed his head. “It seems that I am the one who owes you an apology. To think there was a future where I had stood passive at the possibility of you being made into a corpse—”
“No!” She yelled desperately, reaching out to grab his hands with wide eyes. “How could you say that about yourself?! That future hasn’t even come to pass—”
“Yet those consequences have followed you here all the same,” he said sadly.
She faltered, clearly unable to refute him.
“I’m sorry, Ichigo,” he said sincerely, feeling a bitter smile on his lips. “Fate has dealt you a cruel hand, and I can only offer you empty words of comfort before I die.”
She squeezed his arm as a glint of determination suddenly flickered across her face, and she raised her head.
“No,” she murmured. “Not if I can help it.”
She reached up, fingers hovering under the curve of her brow bone, and before he could stop her, Ichigo gouged out her right eye without hesitation.
Jūshirō felt his heart stop in horror. “Ichigo!”
Blood spilled down her cheek as she lifted her hand, offering the eye to him.
“Take it,” she said calmly. “I can’t heal your body, but I can give you a new one.”
Jūshirō froze in disbelief, not daring to take what was in her hand. “…A new one?”
“If you consume a part of my body, my divine power can restructure every cell down to your bones,” she explained. “With this, I can tie your life to mine and revive you even in death.”
The true implication of her words dawned on him, and Jūshirō breathed heavily. “I can’t possibly accept something like this.”
“Please,” she said earnestly, further extending her hand. “It’s the only way I can save you.”
He hesitated, torn with a mixture of emotions. “Ichigo…”
“Although Mimihagi is gone, I was able to seal its power into this eye,” she revealed. “It's only right that I return it to you.”
Jūshirō sighed, feeling his chest ache with a sense of loss. Had the Soul King’s right hand never gained its own sentience, he would have died in that shrine while his parents prayed to an unfeeling god.
Now here he was, offered a third chance at life in a surreal twist of fate.
He reached out to grab Ichigo’s hand, holding it as gently as he could as he stared into her lone eye.
“Will you promise me something?”
She tilted her head, as if awaiting his offer.
Jūshirō smiled gently. “Don’t ever give up your life for the sake of this world.”
Ichigo blinked, her face flickering with surprise. “I- I only—”
”If I take this power, I’m going to use every bit of it to protect you,” he said firmly. “Regardless of what the future holds, or what the consequences may be.”
Her left eye widened. “N-No— if something happens to me—”
“You’ll have to forgive my insolence then,” he interjected smoothly, “because I won’t let you walk this path alone.”
She hesitated, clearly torn by his ultimatum, but Jūshirō knew Ichigo’s character too well by now— if she refused to consider her own well being, he would simply have to do it for her.
Her lips quivered into a reluctant frown as she lowered her head in defeat.
“…I promise.”
Jūshirō smiled, knowing that he was in no position to demand anything of her, yet she had granted him mercy just the same.
“Thank you, Ichigo.”
She slowly uncurled her fingers as her right eye began dissolving into reishi, allowing it to spill into his cupped hands like a dewdrop of liquid gold.
A fleeting sense of déjà vu crossed his mind as he brought his hands up to his lips, and he glanced at Ichigo, providing her with one last nod of reassurance.
Taking a deep breath, he tipped his head back and swallowed the divinity of her right eye, allowing a rush of golden light to fill his body. The world tilted on its axis as the infinite void of the galaxy reflected in his eyes—
Then everything went white.
As the chaos of the night began to simmer into a quiet tension, Ichigo sat dumbfounded in her ruined bedroom as the sun rose over the horizon, unable to believe how much the real world had been affected by her contention with the Soul King.
Sōsuke was kneeling beside her, seemingly frozen in a state of shock.
She quickly glanced around at the scattered mess of furniture strewn across the floor, only to clutch her head, disorientated by her shortened range of vision. There was a dull ache where her right eye used to be, and Ichigo pressed her palm against the hollow juncture, trying to stem the bleeding.
Sensing movement in her blind spot, she turned to see Sōsuke tear the hem of his shihakushō as he shifted close to her. Wordlessly, he pulled her hand away and began to wrap the right side of her face with a makeshift bandage.
“Tell me, Kurosaki-taichō,” he said quietly, finally breaking the silence.
His expression flickered with barely concealed fury as he leaned in and leveled his gaze on her.
“Who did this to you?”
Ichigo pulled back, surprised by the venom in his tone, and she wondered just how much of her struggle he had witnessed in the real world.
With every year that passed, it was obvious how intelligent the boy was growing up to be, and Ichigo had no doubt that any knowledge regarding the Soul King’s origins could send him spiraling down the path of his future self.
Yet, Aizen had discovered the truth in a timeline without her— unless she controlled his every move, it was impossible to stop Sōsuke from eventually doing the same.
In these moments, Ichigo wondered if anything she did truly mattered at all.
“It was a self-inflicted accident,” she said at last, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
His face hardened at her obvious refusal to divulge any details.
“An accident? ” He said through gritted teeth. “You nearly died.”
She sighed and pressed her lips into a firm line. “I know. It won’t happen again.”
Ichigo didn’t know how or when the remaining parts of the Soul King’s power would come to find her, but she refused to be caught off guard for the second time.
Ukitake’s life was now tied to hers— she had no choice but to survive.
Sōsuke narrowed his eyes with displeasure. “You don't trust me?”
”It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she said honestly, shaking her head. “I promise, once I figure things out… I’ll tell you the truth.”
A flash of disappointment crossed his face as he clenched his jaw.
“I understand,” he said stiffly. “In your eyes, I must still look like an unreliable child.”
She frowned. “That’s not—”
Sōsuke rose to his feet, and Ichigo stilled as he stepped closer, hand hovering over the bandaged side of her face before his fingers tangled through her hair.
“You know that I’ll always respect your decisions,” he said with a low voice. “But remember, Kurosaki-taichō—”
He leaned down, eyes alight with fervor as he lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
“I won’t be a boy forever.”
A heavy silence fell between them as Ichigo met his gaze, finding his face suddenly too close for comfort.
Although he wasn’t yet at his full height, his features were slowly starting to mature into the likeness of his older self— a stark reminder of the time passed.
Before she could respond, Sōsuke slipped his hand through the ends of her hair, turned on his heel, and promptly left without another word, walking out of the wrecked doors of her bedroom.
The tension disappeared with him, and Ichigo sagged tiredly against the wall behind her, simultaneously stunned and flabbergasted by his unusual behavior.
Yet she understood his unspoken sentiments.
Sooner or later, he was bound to discover the truth of the world, and Ichigo knew that some lessons in life simply couldn’t be taught without experience. Should Sōsuke decide to leave Soul Society in pursuit of his own ambitions, there was unlikely anything she could say to convince him otherwise.
Aizen had been her enemy once, and it had taken them two wars, a prison sentence, an irreversible incident, and decades of being stuck together to finally come to an understanding.
The thought of his older self suddenly jolted something within her, and Ichigo felt her entire body stiffen, recalling what had happened during her bout with Mimihagi.
Without another moment to spare, she focused her mind and sank into her Inner World, spurned by the fear of what she would find.
Ichigo awoke to the sight of utter destruction, as if a tsunami had passed through the world. The wrecked skyscrapers were submerged in an endless ocean, and a layer of debris floated along the surface.
She glanced around with trepidation, unable to sense anyone nearby.
“Aizen?” She called, raising her voice.
Just as she was about to summon the thread that connected them, Ichigo noticed a dark shape lying in the depths of the water, and she neared the edge with wide eyes, immediately recognising the silhouette.
It was him.
She dived in without hesitation, shocked by the icy cold water as she swam to his side. It should have been impossible for him to drown in her Inner World, yet even as she shook him, he continued to sink through her grasp.
Hooking her arms under his shoulders, Ichigo hurriedly swam towards the surface and climbed onto a nearby wreckage before pulling Aizen from the water.
He slumped lifelessly onto his side, and Ichigo gasped, finally seeing the extent of his injuries.
His entire body looked like broken glass, his skin gray and transparent as deep cracks ran across his limbs— the damage far worse than what he had sustained from the Tenshintai incident.
She rolled him onto his back and pulled his robe open, finding the shattered remains of the Hōgyoku in his sternum, its light nearly gone.
Ichigo felt her breath hitch with panic as she gently tapped his face. “A-Aizen!”
Her stomach churned with dread as he remained unresponsive, completely cold to her touch.
A sharp blade suddenly pressed against the side of her neck, and Ichigo froze, recognising the zanpakutō with a single glance.
She slowly turned, glancing over her shoulder to see who was standing behind her.
“Zangetsu,” she muttered, eye wide with shock. “What the hell are you doing?”
His expression tightened into a frigid glare.
“That’s my line, Ichigo,” he snarled, curling his lip. “I told you before, that if you ever gave up in a fight— if you ever weakened and lost your instincts— that I would kill you and take the crown for myself.”
She clenched her hands and scowled in response. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you did,” he rebuked, digging the sword deeper into her skin. “Was saving yourself not an option?”
Her lips trembled with emotion. “Is that such an easy decision to make!?”
“It is for me!” Zangetsu yelled, reaching out to grab a fistful of her robes as he shook her. “You were always the most important choice! So tell me— when are you going to prioritise your own life like I do?”
Ichigo faltered, feeling her defense crumble.
Zangetsu retracted his sword and pointed it towards the water. “Look at this world! You were seconds away from losing it all!”
She lowered her gaze, knowing she didn’t have to look around. Beyond the ruined skyscrapers, the ultimate consequence of her decision lay unmoving at her feet.
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” He said scathingly. “Or would it kill you to think about saving yourself for once?”
Ichigo remained quiet, knowing there was nothing she could say.
The night Masaki died, she had cried to every deity she knew, begging for them to take her life instead, unable to live with the guilt.
Lying half-dead in the rain after losing Rukia, she had wondered—
What was her life worth, if she couldn’t even use it to protect someone else?
“Don’t you ever try to sacrifice yourself again,” Zangetsu said darkly. “The next time you can’t finish a fight— I will.”
Ichigo nodded solemnly, knowing that such a notion wasn’t a suggestion, but a threat.
“I won’t,” she muttered.
Zangetsu huffed sharply, then glanced down at Aizen as he released her collar. “You’re lucky he was here.”
Ichigo sagged onto the ground without a response, feeling her chest grow numb as she stared at Aizen’s still face.
Even when his soul was fading, or in the face of defeat, he had never looked as vulnerable as he did now.
“Lucky?” She repeated shakily, grabbing his arm in a white-knuckle grip.
In her eyes, Aizen had always been an infallible presence, both as an enemy and an ally. There was no possible scenario that could have taken his life for good, especially after merging with the Hōgyoku.
The reality of losing him suddenly weighed on her mind, and she breathed heavily, feeling her eyes prickle with tears.
It was like a dam of emotions had burst open, and Ichigo was flooded with memories of their every interaction— the infuriatingly smug curve of his lips, the cool cadence of his voice, and his light brown eyes, which always seemed to hide a multitude of schemes—
She was about to lose it all.
Clouds gathered in the sky as thunder rolled in the distance, and she craned her neck as the first drops of rain began to fall.
“Zangetsu,” she called weakly, feeling her throat tighten with despair. “What do I do?”
He sighed quietly, and ran his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “What can you do? You already gave away the only piece of divine power that you had.”
The rain began to pelt them in a sudden downpour, and Ichigo leaned over Aizen’s body as she pulled him closer, trying in vain to shield him from the storm.
Anchored by their soul-tie, she could still feel the pulse of his life force under her fingertips, yet no matter how hard she tugged, there was no reaction.
“There will be more,” she murmured, tightening her grip.
If the Hōgyoku was an imitation of divinity, there was a reason to believe that it could be remade whole by the same power.
A sharp gleam passed through Zangetsu’s eyes. “Will you be ready?”
Ichigo clenched her jaw as a burning resolve ignited in the pit of her stomach, and she pressed her forehead against Aizen’s, trying to impart the last of her warmth.
She had risked her life to save Rukia; had traversed the endless desert to rescue Orihime— if it meant protecting the one person who had irrevocably occupied her entire heart, she was willing to obtain any power necessary.
"I will,” she murmured, closing her eyes. "Whatever parts remain of the Soul King— I’m going to take it all.”
Urahara Kisuke was utterly fascinated by the rain.
He had never particularly cared for the natural workings of the universe, until he woke up to the Three Worlds on the precipice of destruction.
For what seemed like the longest hour of his life, Kisuke stared up at the sky with wide eyes, wondering if this is where it would all end.
Then the world regained balance and the sun finally broke over the horizon.
That was when the rain started to fall.
Shaking off the water from his cloak, Kisuke trotted down the secret passageway beneath the Fifth Division, and entered a large underground chamber, which was lit up by an artificial sky.
His gaze fell towards the back corner of the hall where a makeshift laboratory had been set up, and a familiar figure stood between two long tables, clearly focused on something in front of him.
“Aizen!” He called, waving his hand in greeting.
The teen barely glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to his work.
Pouting, Kisuke approached the boy in a lazy flicker of shunpo, and glanced over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
Slumped over on one of the tables was a gigai, an unfamiliar model that Kisuke didn’t recognise, except its face had been cleanly removed, leaving a gaping hole in the doll’s structure.
Sōsuke didn’t even spare him another glance as he continued to dismantle the artificial body.
“Kurosaki-taichō lost her eye,” he said at last.
Kisuke blinked, taken aback by the sudden news. “She did?!— how?”
Whenever visiting the Fifth, he would normally make stops to see Ichigo, but with the recent chaos around Soul Society, he had been unsurprised to find her office empty.
“I don’t know,” Sōsuke muttered, clearly upset about the matter. “She won’t tell me.”
Kisuke frowned, deducing that something must have happened during the night all hell broke loose, yet he couldn’t think of a logical explanation.
“Then what are you doing?” He asked again.
Kisuke glanced at the table beside them, noticing a large beaker filled to the brim with eyeballs, which were floating in a liquid preservative.
“I’m going to make her a new one,” Sōsuke answered bluntly.
Kisuke approached the beaker and stared in disbelief, realising that the organs inside weren’t artificial prototypes— they were real eyeballs, undoubtedly taken from someone’s head.
“Where did you even get all these?” He asked, shooting the boy a wary look.
Sōsuke finally turned, lowering the tools in his hands as he leveled him with an inscrutable glare.
“Urahara,” he said coldly. “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want to know the answer to.”
Kisuke quickly backtracked, and raised his hands as a sign of surrender. While he might have enjoyed provoking the boy, there were lines that he wouldn’t cross as an aspiring researcher himself.
“Fair,” he agreed quickly.
Sōsuke huffed. “If you’re only here to bother me, go make yourself useful elsewhere.”
Kisuke pressed his hand over his heart, mocking his hurt. “Bother? I was going to ask if you wanted to run some experiments with me on the rain.”
A week had passed since the Three Worlds momentarily fell out of balance, and while it wasn’t strange to see rain at this time of year, the true mystery was the psychological effect it seemed to have on both Shinigami and civilians alike.
Those who stood in the rain often reported feeling an overwhelming sense of grief, as if they couldn’t control their own emotions.
“The rain?” Sōsuke raised his brows, unimpressed. “No.”
”Oh, come on!” He insisted, inching closer with wide eyes. “People are going crazy out there!”
”They’re going crazy because Soul Society nearly imploded only a few days ago,” Sōsuke replied blandly.
”Don’t tell me you haven’t tested it out for yourself,” he goaded. “You must have felt something while traveling under the rain recently!”
Sōsuke scowled. “I felt angry— upset— depressed.”
“Okaaay.” Kisuke nodded, surprised by his emotional forthcoming. “How ‘bout now?”
”I’m still angry, still upset, and still depressed.”
Kisuke opened his mouth, speechless, as Sōsuke turned his back and continued dismantling the gigai in his hands, clearly finished with their conversation.
Not to be deterred, he slid closer to the teen with a sly smile.
“If you help me run some experiments, I’ll let you in on a secret I overheard,” he said quietly.
”Not interested.”
Kisuke raised a brow. “Even if it might have to do with what happened last week?”
There was a beat of silence as Sōsuke paused, then slowly turned to stare at him from the corner of his eyes.
”Tell me first,” he demanded.
Kisuke clicked his tongue, having expected such a reaction. “Not until you agree to help me.”
A blast of Kidō suddenly shot from Sōsuke’s outstretched hand, and Kisuke yelped as he twisted to the side, barely dodging the streak of lightning.
”Okay, okay, sheesh!” He cried, clutching his hair. “I was only teasing!”
”Tell me now.”
Kisuke huffed, quickly straightening out his shihakushō. “Yoruichi and I were snooping— I mean, training— around the First Division, when we overheard a conversation between Shihōin-taichō and Yamamoto-sōtaichō—”
Sōsuke remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
He grinned, intentionally pausing for dramatic effect. “The Royal Guard is coming to Seireitei.”
Sōsuke narrowed his eyes. “That’s it?”
Kisuke pouted, genuinely surprised by his response. “What do you mean? Don’t you know how illustrious the Royal Guard is? Besides, if they’re on the move, it could mean that the loss of balance between the Three Worlds had nothing to do with the instability of souls, but with the Soul King himself.”
The teen quieted, his mind undoubtedly whirling with a myriad of thoughts, before his gaze refocused on the gigai in his hands. “Then why do you care so much about the rain?”
He shrugged, unbothered by the questioning. “There’s an old legend that says the skies will pour rain whenever the Soul King experiences great sorrow— don’t you find the current situation compelling?”
Kisuke knew that the teen had little to no concern for the matters of the nobility, much less the monarch that ruled over them, yet to his surprise, Sōsuke stopped moving, and his eyes hardened.
“Urahara.”
Kisuke nearly flinched, surprised by the sudden malice in his tone.
”W-What?” He stammered, taking a slow step back. “Why’re you so serious?”
Sōsuke tilted his head and stared unblinkingly at the beaker of eyeballs beside him. “What do you know about the Soul King?”
Kisuke frowned, realising that he didn’t have much concrete information about the most powerful being in the world. All Shinigami were taught that the Soul King maintained order and balance between the Three Worlds— a ruler to be revered but never seen.
Before he could answer, Sōsuke turned to face him, his eyes wide with a hint of unbridled madness, and Kisuke felt his entire body tense as a sudden chill rolled down his spine.
“Tell me everything you know.”