Brought Back To Life

The choices that were made

Those eyes.

Those damn golden eyes. Ichigo sighed as the inexplicable source of his torment once again flashed in his subconscious. For months those eyes have plagued his thoughts and dreams mercilessly. Why? Sure, she was his mentor, helping him achieve bankai and saving his ass on more occasions than he'd care to mention-not to mention teasing him at every opportunity with her 'true form'.

Ichigo shuddered, while he wasn't a pervert and had been brought up with the utmost respect for women, yoruichi's true form was...well..."dammit!" Ichigo shouted. Dragging his mind from his thoughts' inevitable conclusion, he stood up off his bed and put on his jogging gear.

As ichigo's steps pounded on the pavement, he turned up the music on his iPod to drown out his thoughts. Intense exercise and training partnered with blaring music had been his coping mechanism for 16 of the now 17 months that he had been powerless. (How could he help but keep track?)

It was strange, because shortly after defeating Aizen, Ichigo loved the idea of a normal life. No hollows, no bullshit traditions to keep up with, and no constant fear of his friends dying or being used to get to him. He had to admit, at the time, it was heaven. Yet, after just a few short weeks he began to get restless. Sure, rest was great, as was spending time with his human friends, but he was a man of action. Ichigo had been introduced to a life of purpose, of action, and now he was feeling the beginnings of (to his mind) an unacceptable rhythm. Wake up, dodge/punch his father, eat, school, sleep.

Shortly after the first month, he couldn't stand the inactivity anymore. The resting had given his mind too much time to recall what he'd lost. Soon, he began to miss the activity that accompanied his previous shinigami lifestyle-the training, the exhilaration of battle, even the little things like fighting with the violet eyed midget or sparring/arguing with the likes of Renji, Ikkaku, and hell-even fighting Zaraki (not that he overtly sought that one out) or dodging her teasing advances.

Ichigo knew they'd be busy cleaning up Soul Society after the Aizen fiasco, but still: didn't his efforts at least warrant a visit? Couldn't they come in their gigais? How many times did he die for them or at least be gift-wrapped on death's doorstep? Weren't they supposed to have been friends? He knew that this thought was in vain. He was of no use for the spirit world anymore. After sacrificing his powers, his value had disappeared.

This feeling of worthlessness was soon joined by the infuriating feeling of helplessness with a strong undercurrent of bitterness. Day in and day out he had to endure when Chado, Ishida, and Inoue would excuse themselves from class, obviously reacting to the presence of hollows. Whenever they would return, breathing a bit heavier (yet with an all-too-familiar satisfied look) Ichigo would inwardly curse his life as a spiritually ignorant human.

Reaching an inevitable and unbearable limit, one day after school he put on his running shoes and just started running. He'd had no particular destination in mind, just the need to release all his pent up energy and emotions. After a couple if hours, he found himself back at home, still suffering from restlessness. At this point he had called Tatsuki.

"Yo, ichigo" she had answered.

"Tatsuki, do you have time to spar?"

"..."

"Tatsuki?"

"Sorry, Ichigo, you just surprised me with that...umm, sure. Want to meet at the dojo?"

"See you in a few" click.

This had been the start of ichigos new routine. Wake and defend, (no school now because he had graduated) hang out with his sisters, workout, and spar with tatsuki. The running simply became an emergency outlet. A method to keep his mind busy when it wouldn't relent. However, this routine helped. It was by no means ideal, yet he found it possible to distract himself as focusing on his imotous and exerting himself to the point of exhaustion helped him to keep his mind off of more painful topics.