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Ichigo tightened his grip on Tensa Zangetsu as he listened to the madman ramble on and on about the fact that he’d been essentially stalking Ichigo since the day he was fucking born.
Who did this bastard think he was, toying with him like that? How dare he see Ichigo as another one of his little experiments? His life was his own dammit! What right did this asshole have to play with his entire existence like this?
Well if Aizen’s so keen on controlling his fate…
Then Ichigo will simply shatter it to pieces.
“You wish to ask why?” the megalomaniac asked in condescension. “It is because you are the perfect balance of beings due to your parents”
Aizen smiled lazily at Ichigo’s confusion, arms gesturing at the town around them, “ A human mother…”
Where is this going?
The traitor then flicked his sword. “A shinigami father....”
What is he talking about? His dad wasn’t… He couldn’t be-
Aizen chuckled as he brought up his hand to his chin and looked up into the sky, reminiscing about something Ichigo wasn’t privy to. “Of course, we can’t ignore the fact that your mother wasn’t an average mortal either, considering she was a qui-“
Aizen's voice was cut off when a shooting star crashed between him and Ichigo. Gold reiatsu saturated the rooftop they were on whilst the sheer pressure from that thing pushed Ichigo to the ground, before the force suddenly disappeared like it had never existed.
Ichigo coughed as he slowly regained his bearings. The reiatsu had dissipated, revealing a tall figure with long, orange-colored hair.
The mystery guest held still for a few moments, seemingly unbothered by the potential threats surrounding them.
After some time, the person finally decides to straighten himself. They continued to show their back to Ichigo, choosing to study Aizen instead.
The man in question had been rendered speechless, their previous certain and assured disposition gave way to a barely concealed shock.
“Impossible,” Aizen nearly snarled. “What is the meaning of this?”
Ignoring the impromptu interrogation, the foreign presence finally, finally, turned around to Ichigo’s view.
“What?” Ichigo muttered in utter disbelief. “How?!”
Because the face that stared back was terrifyingly familiar to him.
It was his own…
But it was all wrong.
Too old, too tired. Dark bags stained the person’s cross-shaped eyes and they looked as if they’d never rested in weeks.
Their shihakusho was almost completely tattered. The entire right half of the attire was missing, and the pants had been ripped and sliced through to the point it was barely covering their legs.
Their visible body was littered with scars that should’ve been fatal . Dried blood clung to their body like an irritating rash, did they never have the chance to clean themselves after whatever battle they’ve been through?
“…Hmm,” the stranger wearing Ichigo’s body contemplated. “Gotta admit this is one of the weirder hallucinations It has thrown at me.”
Ichigo froze as the imposter kept examining him like he was a particularly interesting museum display. “What’s the point of showing a mini-me? Why not go with the usual first-person view?” The stranger scoffed. “I wonder if It’s running out of ideas or if I’m just losing it.”
Ichigo took a few steps backward and pointed his black sword at… at this person who was like him but couldn’t possibly be him.
“What,” Ichigo rasped, “are you even talking about? Who are you!”
The stranger looked amused at Ichigo’s demand and chuckled softly. “Forgot I used to be like this. No wonder everyone wanted to punch me in the face back then.”
He couldn’t take it anymore. That wistful tone, that defeated look, and that uncaring aura grated at his sensibilities. All of it wrapped in a visage that was undeniably Ichigo’s and it made him sick .
In a burst of speed, Ichigo swung Tensa Zangetsu at the imposter, aiming straight for their chest. In response, they brought up their own weapon in order to halt his strike.
There were two swords in their hands that were completely alien to Ichigo, a long sword the size of his regular shikai and a shorter knifelike blade. Those things shouldn’t mean anything to Ichigo, and yet when they clashed against Ichigo’s bankai…
He could usually sense some of his opponents’ emotions when their weapons met each other like this, yet the stranger’s inner thoughts were jarringly muted. It was like whatever they were feeling had been buried so deep and was covered in so many layers and walls that it might as well be a void of apathy, a hollow abyss where the heart should’ve been. That was concerning all in itself, but that wasn’t what Ichigo focused on.
Instead, his attention was directed at the bond that formed between them, and between their blades, when their attacks connected. At that moment, Ichigo could sense the being that resided within the stranger’s swords. They burn with a different, yet simultaneously similar soul to the one that inhabits his own zanpaktou.
Those blades were Zangetsu.
But how-
The other person’s eyes widened, probably reaching the same realization as Ichigo. They lightly pushed Ichigo away, but that small exertion of strength almost tossed Ichigo right off the skyscraper.
They didn’t even pour a single ounce of spiritual energy into that move, and still, their power rivaled Ichigo’s full-powered getsuga in shikai.
In the blink of an eye the Stranger grabbed onto Ichigo’s wrist to stop him from tumbling down, their body language apologetic.
“Sorry, it’s been a while since I had actual company,” they said. “Forgot to control myself.”
The Stranger scanned their surroundings. The injured shinigami and visored were crowding them now, registering that something had gone horribly wrong. Urahara, Yoruichi, and his friends had also joined in, alongside his dad (and wasn’t that just an extra cherry on top of this mess).
All of them were staring at him and the intruder with various degrees of bafflement and apprehension.
“My, my Kurosaki!” Urahara chirped up from behind his fan. “You certainly have a knack for getting us into interesting situations. I have to admit, time travelers are quite low on the list of things I expect to see today!”
Ichigo brushed aside the whispers that explored at Urahara’s proclamation and was just about to snark right back at hat-and-clogs when a melancholy cackle that sounded like a sob beat him to the punch.
“Still an annoying bastard as always, huh? Kisuke?” The person commented. “…I missed this. I missed all of you,” they added.
“Now, now, even if what I think happened truly occurred to you,” Urahara said while gesturing at his eye, an action that Ichigo didn’t understand. “Considering you’re still walking around and not encased, I doubt I couldn’t find a way to reach you.”
Urahara’s eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t settle for that.”
The Stranger shrugged, a blank guise settling carefully on their person. It didn’t do much to hide the minute tremors from their hands and lips.
“Yeah, if you were there, you wouldn’t have let it slide,” they said. “But I’m the only one left, there’s no one else to visit me in that cold palace.”
No one else?
No one left?
“Does that mean?” someone asked from the crowd. Ichigo, for the life of him, couldn’t tell who it was.
The Stranger smirked, sharp and mad like a wild animal on their last legs. “From my time, everyone here other than myself is dead.”
Silence descended upon the battlefield. The atmosphere of tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Skepticism and denial started sprouting in most of their minds. Surely that must be a lie?
“How did this come to be?” Yamamoto asked, the only one willing to engage with the bleak revelation. “How could we have fallen so completely?”
The Stranger’s mouth pursed into a thin line. They twisted in the Head Captain’s direction with thinly veiled fury.
“The confined Quincy King regains his pulse after 900 years. His mind after 90 years. His strength after 9 years.”
They took a deep breath and spat out the last verse of the hymn.
“And the world in 9 days.”
The Stranger glared at Yamamoto, “Yhwach will return, and this time, you and the rest of the gotei will not be ready. ”
They glanced away. “You were dead by the early stages of the war.”
The Head Captain didn’t have anything to say to that, choosing instead to remain quiet.
“While I am disappointed at my lack of success in surviving your future,” Aizen started, his previous nervousness replaced with a calm gait, though lacking its usual arrogance. “I wonder.”
The conniving mastermind speculated, “Kurosaki Ichigo…”
No, the Stranger is not Ichigo. They couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be…
“Did you, or should I say, will you become the Soul King in the end?
“There’s no one else to take the throne,” the Stranger admitted easily. “There was barely anyone alive, but the three worlds must still be upheld.”
Their eyes glowed ominously. “So the Throne decreed that I inherit it All. Whether I want to or not.”
A growl rang through the air. From the cluster of shinigami, an angry Toshiro walked forward and started shouting at the Stranger.
“So you’re no better than Aizen .” The captain pointed at Them. “You’re just another power-hungry traitor .”
The Stranger looked unimpressed at Toshiro’s outburst. They sighed and moved to where he stood.
“Do you know what your Soul King is, as They currently are right now?” They mocked. “Do you have any idea what’s currently sitting on the throne in your present?
The Stranger grabbed Toshiro by the collar and lifted him closer to Them. “The Soul King that rules your current world is a corpse. A mutilated body who had Their limbs and organs removed at the behest of the Royal Guard and the 5 Noble Houses.”
“Your ruler is nothing more than a puppet cased in amber,” They hissed at the remaining masses, Toshiro’s shihakusho still held in Their grip. “They have no free will, no agency, and no peace. Doomed until the End of Days to become a battery for the system of life and death.”
The Stranger glanced back down at the white-haired captain once more. “Do you think I wanted this? To be shackled to a duty I never wished for? To be trapped within the Throne’s memories of times gone by in a vain attempt to prevent me from going insane?
They paused Their tirade to calm Themselves. “The only thing I am grateful for is that I am whole, and that my movement is not limited. But do not think I have not been sealed all the same.”
Toshiro started to gasp for breath, struggling to withstand the Stranger’s presence even though none of them could feel Their reiatsu. Alarmed, They gently dropped the captain back on his feet, the brightness in their eyes dimming.
“…Sorry.” The Stranger acquiesced. “Guess I got carried away again.”
Ichigo gritted his teeth and yelled at Them in defiance, “If all of that’s true, then why didn’t you try and fight it?”
He pushed through his fear, his unsteady and cracking voice doing nothing for his facade. “There has to be another way. I wouldn’t have- so why did I- You?”
“Why did I give up?” They asked sardonically. “Why did I resign myself to the Throne?”
The stranger approached Ichigo and ruffled his hair. “I said it before, haven't I? I was the only one left, and so will you.”
Ichigo pushed the Stranger’s arms away. “Why do you think things will remain the same? You’ve given us enough information to plan ahead.”
They settled for patting Ichigo’s shoulder. “It should be enough, shouldn’t it? However, the Soul Society won’t change, I doubt Central 46 will believe a single thing I’ve said right now. You will all continue to march towards your doom.”
Shunsui tipped his sakkat back lazily. “Ichigo has a point,” he drawled. “The council won’t agree, but what makes you think we’ll take this lying down?”
The Stranger addressed Shunsui with fondness and nostalgia. “Because in my time, you, as the new head captain, agreed to hand me over as the next Soul King.
There’s no way… Kyoraku had been one of the few to go against the Head Captain during Rukia’s execution. There’s no way he could’ve betrayed him- Them so easily.
They shook Their head. “It was a hard decision, but what’s the worth of a single boy’s mortality compared to the greater good? You just never lived to see the consequences of your actions.”
The Stranger ignored the surprised reactions from both Shunsui and Ukitake, choosing to set their sights upwards as if staring at something beyond the heavens itself. “Besides, there’s no chance that the Royal Guard won’t be involved in my younger self’s life from now on. My appearance here has all but ensured that. Those guys will always meddle in anything Soul King-related.”
They diverted their attention towards Zangetsu. The Stranger sniggered ruefully at the blade.
“That bankai is a fake, you know,” They said. “Our true power doesn’t end at cloaking and concentrating power around Ourselves. No, Our ultimate ability is to force Our chosen fate on others.”
That’s- that’s impossible! How could Ichigo’s bankai evolve into something completely different from what it is now? There’s no way Zangetsu lied about the nature of Ichigo’s capabilities, right?
Damningly, his sword spirit remained silent at his question.
The Stranger laughed derisively. “We should’ve been able to change the path of destiny itself! Of course, The Throne doesn’t take too kindly to such a skill. After all, it could potentially mess with the balance of the worlds.”
They let go of his shoulder and grasped at Their sheathed weapons. “Therefore, It made sure that I am forever under Its grasp without a way to rebel. You won’t be spared from the same treatment either.”
Suddenly without warning, a burst of metal and chains surrounded and clung to the Stranger, dragging him off the ground to hang in the air.
“Shit, what’s happening now?” somewhere, Ishida cursed.
“There can only be one Soul King at any given time,” They explained. “And I’m still needed in My own era. It seems that I have overstayed My welcome.”
As the iron bonds continued to strangle the man (the Soul King ), They took one last sweeping glance at the humans and the shinigami scattered about before Their eerie eyes (looking closer, they weren’t just crosses, each eye had four irises- ) landed on Ichigo one last time.
A complicated expression flitted about on the person’s face. Their mouth opened and closed as if They desperately wanted to say something but were at a loss, unable to find the suitable words.
In the end, They simply gave a smile filled with pain and longing and anger and grief and loathing and regret. So so so much regret that it made Ichigo choke on his breath from the sheer agony of just looking at their expression.
The Man Who Ichigo Will Eventually Become closed Their eyes in defeat, that damned grin never leaving Their face.
“I’m sorry…”
For what, Ichigo wondered. For the fact that They had failed? For the fact that in the future, They’ll be alone? Was it because despite being a God, They couldn’t bring back those already gone?
Or was it pity? For the fact that Ichigo now knows his fate. For the fact that They had slapped Ichigo with the knowledge that he could never be good enough to protect everyone. Did They apologize because They had inadvertently stolen all of Ichigo’s hopes for his future?
With a final tug in reality, the King stranded in the Past returned to Their Present. Whilst the ones in the present gazed upon their Future King in horror.
Ichigo remained rooted in place, struggling to process everything that was revealed.
“We won’t let it happen,” Urahara vowed, breaking the wretched stillness. “Kurosa- Ichigo , we won’t let that tragedy come to pass.”
Ichigo slowly stared at his mentor, then at everyone else, and he could tell that some weren’t in agreement with hat-and-clogs’ convictions.
Ah, Ichigo thought, this is the destiny of someone who endeavored to shatter fate.
Glory to the Reiō, lynchpin of all three worlds.
Glory to Ichigo Kurosaki.