Return to the Breaking Point

1

Ichigo Kurosaki-that is, I-found myself sitting on the ground, thinking. I was at the edge of the massive ravine carved long ago by my Saigo no Getsuga Tenshō, staring into the path it had cut through the landscape. I looked noticeably older-just over twenty, maybe-and since my living body had died at some point, my aging had slowed to a crawl. I'd reached a bit over two meters in height. My hair was grown out to the length it had been when I emerged from the Dangai to fight Aizen, and I was seriously considering leaving it the way Shiro always made it grow during hollowfication. I had to cut it every time that happened.

I wore a shihakushō tailored personally by Senjumaru-made to withstand the regenerative tendencies of my hollowfication. The only visible modifications were a white skirt-like garment open at the front, marked at the bottom like a captain's haori, and small bone-white pauldrons accented with vibrant red scales on the left shoulder and right hip. The persistent bloodstains I tended to gather often infuriated the seamstress, though. I eventually discovered she had remade the entire outfit as Ōken clothing-something she never told me until I pressed her on why she insisted I never lose it. At least I didn't have to wear the headpiece and cloak.

"We should really start buggin' people again, King," Shiro-my Hollow and the embodiment of the larger khyber-style blade missing a strip of material through its core-remarked.

I didn't bother giving a real answer, only the emotional equivalent of a shrug. Shiro clicked his tongue in my soul.

"I'm sure what Shiro means is that you shouldn't avoid what remains," Ossan-my Quincy spirit-added in his steady, firm voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I replied. "I just can't tell if it's time. I have this feeling something's going to happen. You feel it too, Zangetsu."

Zangetsu-the name of both blades planted beside me. I only used it when addressing both spirits at once, or the being they merged into during my Bankai training. I had to maintain mastery of it in case anything else happened after Yhwach. Training in the Muken sucked, though-my power tended to surge to insane levels unless it was contained.

All things considered, I was pretty free now. I missed the action-not so much the Kido drills Hachi, Tessai, and Urahara had forced on me. They'd only done it to hammer reiatsu control into me, but it worked. My output on the lower-level Kido was still tricky to manage, but otherwise I picked it up naturally. With their help, I even created a proper Gentei Reīn-a crescent-moon seal over my heart to cap my reiatsu.

Still, here I was-staring into the ravine, thinking about everything that led me to this point. Rukia's rescue. The first Arrancar. Las Noches. Regaining my powers. Learning the truth of my origins. The Wandenreich. The Blood War.

We won-but it had taken decades.

And too many had died.

Arrancar I called friends. Soul Reapers. Humans. Entire sections of all three realms were in ruins. I wasn't in despair, exactly, but after everything I'd gone through, I couldn't tell whether it just hadn't hit yet. Something felt unfinished. And my mind kept circling back to Kisuke Urahara-the mad genius I hadn't seen in over a year, which was... concerning.

He never vanished unless he was building something ridiculous-or something dangerous enough to require it.

If he resurfaced, I suspected he'd check here first.

After my living body died due to complications from my reiatsu, I had nothing left tying me to the human world. I settled in the Seireitei, and the new Central 46-despite barely tolerating me-made me their last-resort trump card. Honestly? It wasn't bad. Nice house, decent salary, total freedom as long as I told them if I left Soul Society.

Hours passed like this.

"King. Heads up," Shiro warned, tension snapping me to focus.

Speak of the devil.

I turned toward the presence he sensed, already feeling the flare of agitation he usually had around one specific person.

"Been a while, Geta-bōshi," I said-then noticed something off. Kisuke carried a frantic undertone I had only seen when he was truly out of answers. This felt far more serious. I dropped the teasing I'd planned for months. "This about whatever made you vanish for over a year, Kisuke?"

"Aaa... the one time I wish you'd opened with your usual scowl and harsh greeting, Kurosaki-kun..." he muttered, trying to feign enthusiasm. Then his voice shifted. "Yes. Yes, it is. But this time, I may be asking too much of you..."

"It can't be that-"

"It is that serious," he cut in. "There's no sugarcoating this. I need to send you-this you-back in time. To a point where you can act as a catalyst to save as many people, friend or foe, as possible. Build allies. Strengthen the ones we had. Between Aizen and the Wandenreich occurring nearly back-to-back, I missed something important and-"

I tuned out the rest. I knew how he rambled.

"What do you two think?" I asked the blades.

Shiro's grin practically radiated through my soul. "Stupid question, King."

"Is it ready?"

Kisuke blinked, stunned. "What?"

"I asked if what you're using to send me back is ready. You haven't been planning this only for a year. I know you expected a fight from me-but... I've had this feeling. That something wasn't right. That something was missing. If you think a cataclysm is waiting for everything to crumble... I trust you. On that, at least." I paused. "And even though no one's complaining... no one's happy either."

Kisuke made an unreadable expression before lowering his hat. "Yes, but-"

"It's a one-way trip, isn't it?"

"...From what I can tell-yes. If you go, you can't come back."

I didn't- couldn't hesitate.

"Retreat and you will age. Be afraid, and you'll die... The words that started everything."

"Who said them?" he asked.

"Zangetsu-the Quincy one," I replied. "Said it when I struggled to learn their name after the shattered shaft incident. Now-anything I need to know about the gadget sending me back?"

"Of course," he said, genuine enthusiasm finally kicking in. "But first-we need guidelines. A plan."

I let out a long breath. "Yeah... that sounds good."

I stood and slid both versions of Zangetsu into place.

-----

"You're aiming for that point? Are you sure?" Kisuke asked.

"Definitely. I just have to remind myself not to coddle everyone. Annoying, but necessary. Everyone was strong... but they'll need to be stronger."

"That much is true," he admitted. "Very well. I know I can't talk you out of this. Just deliver what you need to... me. And while you're there, consider finding someone nice. Maybe more than one someone! Fulfill your father's dream of becoming a grandfather!"

I scoffed. He wasn't wrong. Loneliness was something I tried not to dwell on.

Kisuke pulled a small bag from his coat and a familiar marble-shaped object-modified somehow. I couldn't tell how, but it was definitely different. He handed both to me and left.

-----

Having already discussed everything with the hybrid, there was no reason to make this any harder for him. Kisuke Urahara felt the shift the moment Ichigo activated the device-felt reality tug and twist as the boy committed to what needed to be done. He exhaled a long, weary sigh, fully aware he'd been a little unfair by leaving out several critical details about what Ichigo would have to do to make the plan succeed.

"Oh well~" he chimed lightly. "I'll just hope he's in a good mood when he meets whatever version of me is over there."

Then, in a much quieter voice, he muttered to himself, "I just wish I knew how this timeline-hopping business will turn out..."