Latest update:March 7, 2023
Summary:The world disappeared in a flash of golden light, there and gone so suddenly Ichigo feared whatever Orihime did hadn't worked. Months without his zanpakuto left him empty in a way he didn't know was possible. When she had come to him with determined eyes and set shoulders Ichigo had felt hope for the first time since Aizen fell.
The world disappeared in a flash of golden light, and Ichigo opened his eyes to his room, rays of diluted sunlight coming through his window. He opened his eyes with the thrum of reiatsu under his skin
Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757206/chapters/39315403
Word count:127k
Chapters:30
Chapter 1: Nine
Chapter Text
The world disappeared in a flash of golden light, bright enough to make his eyes burn. It forced them shut as the sensation covered his entire body. He opened his mouth to scream at the pain – more intense than anything he'd felt before – but the sound was lost in the silence that weighed thick inside the light.
The world disappeared in a flash of golden light, there and gone so suddenly Ichigo feared whatever Orihime did hadn't worked. Months without his zanpakuto left him empty in a way he hadn't known was possible. When she had come to him with determined eyes and set shoulders Ichigo had felt hope for the first time since Aizen fell. So long as his resolve was strong enough, she had said, it should work. So long as he was willing to push, and demand that the world bend before him. She could help, could open the way, she said, but he would have to do the rest.
The world disappeared in a flash of golden light, and Ichigo felt his stomach roll as it was replaced by darkness, a sick pressure making his skin feel entirely too tight.
He opened his eyes to his room – hadn't they been at Urahara's shop? – rays of diluted sunlight coming through his window. He opened his eyes with the thrum of reiatsu under his skin. His heart skipped a beat, and then another as the realization that it worked was abruptly pushed aside because he couldn't breathe.
With reaching hands – too small, his mind supplied – he pulled the window by his bed open, hoping that the fresh air would start his lungs. It didn't. His skin became tighter with each passing moment, like he had pulled on clothes two sizes too small. He tore at his shirt, ripping at the fabric in the hope that it would help. That the pressure would just disappear.
He really should be careful what he wished for.
With another flash, this time red and black, he was sent across the room. His back hit the wall with a resounding crack, but he couldn't bring himself to care about the ache in his shoulders from the impact – the pressure was gone and that was all that mattered. The pressure was gone and his reiatsu curled around him as if to welcome him home.
There were footsteps coming down the hall, rushed with an urgency that Ichigo couldn't care for as he was pulled into his inner world. For a moment he felt vertigo, his vision clearing slow to take in his surroundings. The sideways buildings that greeted him made him laugh high and wild with joy that crashed into him like a wave. They shined in unnatural light, bright in a way that shouldn't be possible as an ocean lay somewhere beneath his feet. The air was charged, practically burning with the amount of reiatsu filling the space, it left his head dizzy. A high that he had never experienced before, even in battle. When he had first entered his inner world, the landscape felt hollow, void of all life. But now. Now, that he knew what it was like without it… Months. Months without his powers. Without the ability to protect his friends – to even see some of them. Without his zanpakuto. Empty. Empty and lost and now he wasn't. It felt too much like a dream.
A shift of fabric behind him had Ichigo turning with a grin on his face, excitement curling in his stomach. Months without his zanpakuto, months without the comfortable weight of a blade in his hands, but now-
Now, he was faced with a Zangetsu that he had to crane his neck back to see.
"Did you get taller?" He squinted up at the man, the words blurting from his mouth as he drank in the sight of his spirit. Imprinted the sight in his mind and swore he wouldn't lose him again.
"Nah, you just shrunk, King." The voice had him spinning around, a scowl already on his face as he met the eyes of his inner hollow. Yellow and black, with a crazed glint that made his stomach drop.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Ichigo growled, reaching for a sword that wasn't there. Panic hit him for a moment; where was his sword? Why did he not have Zangetsu? Reiatsu swirled around him, caressed him, thick and there so why wasn't Zangetsu in his hand?
"There is much to discuss," Ossan said, moving to stand beside Shiro. "Like what exactly Orihime did."
Ichigo looked between the two, brows furrowed – they were taller, too tall from what he remembered. Either that, or- He looked down at himself for the first time, taking in his too-small hands, and how close the floor seemed to be.
"I'm-."
"Short."
"-a kid." Ichigo brought his hand up to his face, squinting at the offending appendage as if that would suddenly make it grow back to its normal size. Surely Orihime hadn't de-aged him like a bad plot straight out of some cheap manga. "What the hell is going on?"
"Orihime's powers are chaotic, and uncontrolled," Ossan said, "it would seem that this was an unintended consequence of trying to give you your powers back."
Ichigo laughed, running a hand through his hair, "So I've what? Turned back into a child?"
"In a way," Ossan hummed.
It wasn't that hard to put the pieces together, from the steady look Zangetsu was giving him to the way he had de-aged. It wasn't a far leap, considering all he had been through. Considering how even Urahara did not fully understand what Orihime could do; only that her powers were on par with a god. A real one, the kind that even Shinigami could not match. It was why he had agreed, had felt like there was a chance to gain Zangetsu again. It worked, in a way, just not how he expected.
"Time travel." It came out flat, a resigned acceptance chasing the words.
"It would seem you've been given a second chance."
Ichigo frowned, "Is that even possible? Doesn't that just… break the timeline?"
"Unlikely, since we weren't erased upon arrival."
Ichigo huffed a breath, eying Ossan with a skeptical gaze but not having any real proof that the spirit wasn't right, "Second chance, huh." He could stop Aizen, stop the war. Save his mom, if he was far enough back. He could fix everything.
Shiro's smile widened, becoming almost unnatural, "That's not even the best part, Kingy. Don't ya want ta know why I'm back?"
"Ichigo," Ossan said, drawing his gaze and attention before he could even respond. There was a weight to his words that wasn't there before, "We did not bring you here only to discuss what your friend has done."
"Then what-."
"I am not Zangetsu."
A beat of silence, confusion catching any response in his throat as he looked at the spirit with wide eyes. He opened his mouth and closed it, unable to find any words for a moment. It didn't make sense. Of course Ossan was Zangetsu, he'd been Zangetsu this entire time; had been there when he found his powers, and been there when he fought his way into Soul Society, when he fought Aizen, and when he-. Ichigo swallowed, forcing his voice to work, "What are you talking about? Of course you're-."
"You must have noticed it." The spirit met his gaze steadily, "Whenever I taught you, or when your life was in danger, it wasn't my powers that helped you."
"That was all me," Shiro said on a laugh, high and manic with wild glee. Ichigo glanced at his hollow, his eyes just catching the glint of a blade in time to duck under a swing, and leap back a few feet, his stance at the ready. "With how much ass-saving I've done, I should be King."
"Not a chance," Ichigo bit back, his hands twitching for a sword that wasn't there. Ossan stepped forward, stopping whatever attack Shiro was planning next. It focused Ichigo back on what they had been discussing, back on what Ossan had said. He met the spirit's gaze, before he spoke, "I don't understand," his voice was strained, as it if wanted to come out on a shout, "if you're not Zangetsu, then who are you?"
"I am your quincy powers," Ossan said, calm but with a growing tension. "I tried to become the center of your powers, so I could suppress your growth and keep you away from the fights."
"Why?" The word came out on a growl, anger replacing the confusion and hurt – it was easier that way, to let the heat of his irritation burn away the betrayal, the pain at being lied to.
"To protect you," Ossan said, the words coming out simple as if they were supposed to be obvious. Simple like they shouldn't be able to punch Ichigo in the gut, to force the anger out in a rushed breath. "I told you before, what I want to protect is not the same as what you want to protect. So, I tried to stop you from becoming a Shinigami." The words burnt like the golden light from before, burnt and made something in him feel like it was snapping, "However, you eventually became a Shinigami anyway, and as I watched you train, suffer, and grow… I found myself helping you become stronger. Now, seeing you like this, I am happy to step back."
Ichigo watched in horror as Ossan started to dissolve, to disappear before his very eyes. Months. Months without his powers. He wasn't about to lose them again – any part of them.
"Wait!" He screamed, voice coming out cracked and high with youth as he reached out, desperation making him move faster. But not fast enough. What once was his zanpakuto spirit was now a sword he did not recognize.
"You have been fighting only with what strength I have not been able to suppress." Ossan's voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once, "That is your real zanpakuto. Take it and fight with your own strength, Ichigo."
He did not even have the choice to accept this new reality before everything started to shift. Anger bubbled inside him hot and fast. Quincy or not, Ossan had saved him enough times that Ichigo did not care what the spirit said. The world around him began to crumble, but Ichigo did not care. Did not care as Shiro disappeared, did not care as his head pounded with each building that fell. He did not care, and he would be damned if Ossan thought that his words could stop Ichigo from keeping him.
"I don't care! I don't care who you are! I don't care who either of you are! You, and him," he cried out, knowing that they could both hear, as he grabbed the strange sword and pulled even as it dispersed into reishi, "I'm sure you're both Zangetsu. And I won't lose you again!" As he said the words any doubt that he may have had fell away, the assurance that what he had said was nothing less than right settling in his chest, familiar and heavy. His inner world became silent at the declaration. The destruction slowing. The buildings stabilized, and the headache started to recede. His breathe came in huffs, as his lungs tried to catch up with the exhaustion creeping over his body.
The world flashed again, only, this time there was no pain, no ache in his shoulders or burn in his eyes. Just a weighted calm, like relief, forming in time with the blades appearing in his hands. And the knowledge that Zangetsu was there.
Both of them.
The real world came into focus slow, each of his senses becoming aware one at a time. There were others in the room with him, he could hear their voices, muffled as they were. Quiet, he realized as his fingers twitched around the grip he had on Zangetsu. He could feel them. Both of them. Ossan's presence, steady and calm, in the smaller blade – a trench knife, really. Shiro's in the larger of the two; an encompassing bloodlust, eager for a fight in a way that Ichigo hadn't been able to feel since he lost them.
He took one more breath before he opened his eyes, letting the brightness of the room clear away as he found himself on his back; a ceiling he knew all too well meeting his gaze. The smell of old wood and warm tea bringing back far too many memories. So, they were at Urahara's.
"Ichigo," a voice he had not heard in years called his name. With his heart in his throat he turned his head, eyes wide as he took in the form of his mother. Took in her warm eyes, filled with a concern that made his chest clench. Took in her bright hair, pulled back in a messy bun. Took in her, alive and whole and not a bastardized manifestation by some hollow. She was alive. "Ichigo, how are you feeling?"
Time travel. He really had been sent back. He had thought, once, that he would not be able to face her again without his Shinigami powers – without the ability to protect, as his name so implied. But now, with her so close, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have been satisfied powers or not.
"Mom?" The word came out rough, the feeling of tears pricking at the edges of his eyes making him blink. He couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around her even if he wanted to. The scent of vanilla shampoo and scratch of the sweater she wore against his cheek made his chest stutter out his next breath.
"Ichigo?" She asked, even as she returned the embrace, holding him tight. "What's wrong?"
She was alive.
She was alive and Ichigo would damn well make sure she stayed that way.
"Nothing," he said, muffled by her shoulder. "Nothing's wrong."
"Not that this isn't all very touching," Urahara said, the sound of his fan shutting making Ichigo glance over to meet grey eyes.
"Oh, stuff it, hat-an-clogs," Ichigo shot at the man before he could say anymore. There was no way in hell that he was going to let Urahara take this moment away from him. That he was going to let the man turn this into some kind of joke. Besides, the look of shock that briefly crossed the man's face was more than worth it – Kami knew the bastard had gotten that same reaction from Ichigo more than once.
And if there was a part, tucked away in the back of his mind, that spat fire at the man for leaving him, abandoning him after Ichigo's use had run out. When his powers laid in pieces after he attacked Aizen. The part of his mind that said if Orihime hadn't suggested anything, Urahara wouldn't have bothered with him again. And if that part of him felt a satisfaction in lashing out, well, he kept it to himself. Because he knew, for all that Urahara had not sought him out after the war, it was for Ichigo's own sake. Knew that the man wanted to help. Knew by the way Urahara's eyes had lit up when he and Orihime had asked to use his bunker. Knew by the way Urahara hadn't bothered with his fan as they told him about their plan. Knew by the way the man had agreed.
"Ichigo!" His mom exclaimed, indignation making her voice pitch high and loud, as she pushed him back to arms-length, "Apologize to Urahara-san this instant!"
Dutifully Ichigo apologized, but with how empty his voice came out he was sure it was received as insincere as he meant it.
"It's quite alright," Urahara said, his fan covering his face as he studied Ichigo. "As I was saying, we should focus on figuring out how this happened." The man snapped his fan shut, "His reiatsu seems to have stabilized when the swords appeared, but that shouldn't be possible." Urahara looked to his father, "You said you found him in that uniform."
His father nodded, "He was passed out against the wall."
Ichigo narrowed his eyes as they talked as if he wasn't even in the room, with a scowl he left them to it, walking back to his blades. He took hold of Shiro first, before realizing abruptly that he wasn't nearly tall enough to place the sword on his back. With a grunt he picked up Ossan to swing the blade onto his back, before inspecting Shiro once more. A moment passed before he realized that the room had fallen silent.
"Son," his father said, "do you know what those swords are?"
"They're my zanpakuto."
"Yes, they are, the question is how you have them." Urahara said, the smile in his eyes humored as he watched Ichigo's predicament, but sharp with calculation, "What's the last thing you remember, Ichigo-kun?"
Ichigo opened his mouth, but closed it again; should he tell them? Time travel wasn't exactly believable, he had to admit, even if it explained his reiatsu levels and appearance as a Shinigami. But what else could he say? That there was a big flash and suddenly he was as strong as a captain? That he can't remember anything at all?
He licked his lips, squared his shoulders and met Urahara's eyes with a flash of resolve. He was never good at lying, anyway.
"Orihime and I were using the bunker to try and regain my Shinigami powers, but when she tried to reject… reject something, there was a flash of gold light and I was back in my room." He spoke clearly, let his emotions play across his face like he always had, because honesty was best backed up with willing openness and Ichigo needed them to believe him. Needed his parents to understand that whatever else happened he was no longer the same child they knew. "Only, I couldn't breathe and-." With a start he realized he hadn't seen his body since coming back, and that they hadn't placed him back into it while he was in his inner world. "Where's my body?"
His parents glanced at each other, even as Urahara's gaze remained steadily on his face. "Ichigo," he father started, "when you- your body, it's-."
"It's no longer habitable," hat-an-clogs supplied. "You soul was ejected from it because you have too much spiritual energy for it to contain."
Ichigo stared, his eyes moving from face to face as the information settled in. "I… died."
"Essentially, yes."
"Oh." He looked down at his hands, taking in the lack of callouses, the way his fingers curled and stretched. He died. He felt no different, really. Beyond the changes he always felt in his spirit form, there was no physical feeling of loss at not having a connection to his human body. And maybe that was worse. There were times, he had to admit, that it felt like he was dying. During the war, and after. But hearing it now. Knowing that he could not go back to his human life, now that his mother was alive, that his friends were safe. It was a slap in the face.
It seemed the universe really was full of irony.
Ichigo had pushed the world, demanded it give him what he had lost, and in turn it pushed back. Taken something even as it gave him more than he asked for – more than he knew he could ask for.
"The question is how you have so much reiatsu," Urahara said, drawing him from his thoughts.
"I told you." Ichigo frowned, "Orihime and I-."
"Were in the bunker, yes," Urahara interrupted him, "but who is Orihime, Ichigo-kun?"
"And what did you mean by 'regain' your Shinigami powers?" His mother asked, her voice strained.
Ichigo shifted, glancing back at his swords where they still laid on the floor and finding his strength, "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm from the future." The words simply spilled from him then. Coming fast as they all tripped over themselves to be said – his Mom's death, seeing spirits, Rukia, Aizen, the war, everything. It came out in a rush that he wasn't even sure made sense.
He wasn't sure he cared.
His mom was alive, his sisters and friends safe.
He had Zangetsu again.
Ichigo had pushed the world, and it had given way beneath a golden light.
Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757206/chapters/39315403