"Er, um, Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo." Ichigo said tamely. What was this? A hallucination? Some spirit? The zanpakutou itself?
"That is not enough." The man said, a hint of distaste in his voice. "To know me, you must know yourself. Who are you?"
It was annoyingly cryptic, and Ichigo wasn't having it.
"I introduced myself already, okay?" He snapped back. The man was hovering above him still, having stopped a full two meters above, and Ichigo felt a little intimidated. He looked very, very serious, and Ichigo felt quite vulnerable.
"When somebody gives you their name, it's only polite to give yours back! So why don't you tell me, eh?" Ichigo demanded.
"You rude pup," the man said. "To be so harshly awakened, made to live, and you have the gall to make demands?"
"Made to live?" Ichigo said confusedly. "What are you, old man?"
"I am you, and you are I," the apparition said gravely.
Something dawned on Ichigo.
"You're my zanpakutou, aren't you?"
"Slowly does the rude child awaken," said the man, and Ichigo noticed his cape fluttering- which was odd, because there was no hint of wind here.
"And... you're pissed because you didn't get to develop naturally. Right?" Ichigo said, one thing after another dawning on him. Zanpakutou were proud creatures, if his experience with Erza's absurd companion was any judge, and he made a note to speak more politely.
"That does not nearly describe it." The man said.
"Then please, zanpakutou, give me your name," Ichigo said boldly, hoping his tone was sufficiently polite.
"You know my name," the spirit said, to Ichigo's frustration. "You need only dig it out from your mind."
"I..." Ichigo started, biting back a snappier reply. "I do not, great spirit."
"Sycophantic flattery will not appease me. Would it appease you, would-be master?"
"Um. No?" Ichigo said.
"It would not." The man said, staring down judgmentally on Ichigo. "For you are I, and I am you, and we despise underhandedness and dishonesty."
Ichigo got a sense that, in some way, the zanpakutou was giving him hints- hopefully to completing this process before he was purged from existence.
"You risked all to bring me into being," the zanpakutou said. "I may well die before I am an hour old. Why?"
"Because we're forthright, we hate underhandedness, and we do the right thing." Ichigo said stubbornly. "Because I can't let my aunt go in alone. Because I can't let Rukia die because she did the right thing and saved me."
"For this, you risk your life?" The spirit said haughtily. "Nobody would blame you for leaving things be. You did not ask for this life. You are not obligated to sacrifice your future for the failures of others."
"But here I am still doing it." Ichigo shot back.
The zanpakutou spirit looked down on him inscrutably.
"You wish to know my name?" It said.
"You're damn right." Ichigo said firmly. The knowledge that he ran the risk of dying was there, but somehow pushed aside, replaced by a willingness to move forward, to succeed. To win.
"Then I shall give you a test. Fail, and we shall both die."
"That's... drastic." Ichigo said. "So-"
Mid-sentence, he was interrupted, as all of reality shifted ninety degrees. For but a moment, Ichigo saw the landscape, shifted, and realized that the odd world was actually very familiar. Endless rows of skyscrapers, turned so as to seem like some odd ground.
Then he fell. Flailing wildly, he cried out. He couldn't even see the ground, looking grey in the distance, and a few seconds of falling later, even with terminal velocity achieved- if there was such a thing in this world- it seemed to grow closer only slowly.
None of this seemed to matter, as he still felt the panic of falling, of impending death, and no amount of focus could turn his mind off the matter. He cried out, screaming with fear.
"If you have time to scream, then you have time to spare," The zanpakutou said, floating alongside him. "Do you fear death? Shinigami rule over many things, death included."
"I'm not a shinigami right now!" Ichigo burst out, in between anger and sheer terror.
"That which Kuchiki Byakuya snuffed out from you was merely borrowed," the zanpakutou said firmly. "He thought that was the end of it. He was wrong. There is power of your own, merely awakened by Kuchiki Rukia's!"
He knew he had power, sure, but this wasn't helping. "So how do I find it?" He cried out desperately.
"As this world collapses." The zanpakutou said. He stopped his descent, and out of nowhere, what looked like hundreds of white boxes started falling down alongside Ichigo, each one about the size of his head.
"In but one of these, your true power lies. Fail to find it, and we shall both be undone."
That was not very helpful. Pick one of these damnable things, just one, and get it right the first time? While plummeting to his death? How in the hell was he supposed to even get to one of them?
For a moment, he closed his eyes.
Think. Focus. This isn't the normal world. If it were, you'd be a wet stain already. Physics aren't really a thing. Try, or die.
Forcing himself to focus, he tried to move through the air through sheer force of will. It felt like a ridiculous notion, impossible... but to his surprise, as he imagined himself moving forward, extending his hands almost as if making a swimming stroke, his body obliged and moved through the air. He was still falling, sure, but he could move. The optimistic view was that this was noteworthy progress. The pessimistic one was that the harder part was still ahead of him, and it seemed impossible.
Choosing to think of neither, Ichigo simple focused, purposefully moving around the falling boxes, trying his damnedest not to look down.
Then suddenly, he hit the ground. It was sudden, harsh, but to his surprise he was very much conscious- and still falling. He appeared to be sinking through water, the boxes following near him.
Okay, think. How do you spot shinigami power?
You spot it by sensing.
But he couldn't sense. He wasn't a shinigami. Then how?
His master's voice rung through his head, from one of the less-frequent theoretical lessons, which he had paid less attention to than perhaps he should have.
Every ensouled thing has a signature. Its spiritual parts have a colour. You can sense them from afar, as if though they were a ribbon. A normal plus is white. A hollow is black. And a shinigami.
A shinigami's signature was red! He remembered now, suddenly deeply grateful for his lessons. Quickly, he looked around. Suddenly, he could see them. String after string, ribbon after ribbon, one hanging out from each box. It was a sea of white, but somewhere in there, there was something red, he just had to find it.
Above him, he saw the zanpakutou- and the skyscrapers above him, evaporating at an alarming pace. He hadn't been joking when he said the world was crumbling. Quickly, Ichigo redoubled his efforts, and looked around. Just as he had begun to fear that it was too late, he saw it- a stripe of red in the sea of white. Urgently, even desperately, he forced himself toward it, extending a hand. An enormous sense of relief rushed through him, as he grabbed on to the red ribbon, and pulled at it. The box came open, its lid falling off, revealing the hilt of a sword. Ichigo stared at it with shock, surprise- and joy.
"What are you waiting for?" The zanpakutou demanded. "Seize it, before this world comes undone!"
Quickly, Ichigo reached for the hilt, and pulled the sword out. Smoothly, the blade followed suit, and immediately the world stopped- and changed. The crumbling ceased, but the skyscrapers appeared gone, replaced again by an indistinct whiteness.
The sword was long and broad, although not quite as unwieldy as it had once been, and it felt right in his hand.
"You have gained the powers of a shinigami, and we yet live." The zanpakutou said. "The next time... I hope you learn my name."
Staring with mixtures of awe, caution and concern, the entire group had stood still as Ichigo transformed. Even those with poorer spiritual perception, like Orihime, could feel his powers convulse and thrash, his body spasming and jerking around. Ichigo's eyes had rolled into his skull, and at times he looked downright possessed. Nearly half an hour had passed so far.
"Is- is he okay?" Erza said worriedly. She had asked.
"Watch and wait." Urahara said neutrally, his eyes fixed on Ichigo. "Or don't watch. Whichever suits you best."
"What about his body and soul?" Erza said. "Won't they be connected?"
"If- when- it succeeds," Urahara said, quick to correct himself, "his body and new form should split naturally. This is really just a more... prolonged version of what already happened with him and Rukia."
Further discussion was put on hold, as the violent flow of reiatsu finally reached a climax. It was clear to all with any depth of knowledge on the spiritual that what was flowing out was certainly not shinigami energy- at least not just shinigami energy. It was foul, darkened, like the taste of milk that had been left out just a little too long.
"What did you do to him?" Erza demanded.
"Ssssh." Urahara said, staring with fascination. "And... here... it... comes." As if conducting some bizarre symphony, he moved his hands about in odd gestures.
As if on cue, Ichigo's body lay still as a shinigami burst out of it, fully fitted in the shihakusho, sword in hand. But all was not well. He was floating into the air, carried by the raw energy he had exuded around him, and most noticeably, his face.
A ghastly apparition was in the place where his face should be. Looking like some hologram, see-through just slightly and vibrating in and out of existence super-rapid, it looked like...
A hollow, Erza thought. Good heavens have mercy, he's turned into a hollow.
The creature let out a long, loud growl, sending chills down all of their spines- except Urahara, who looked at it as if entranced.
"Ichigo!" Erza called out, and took a step forward.
"No!" Urahara said sharply, putting an arm in front of her, still not taking his eyes off Ichigo. "He has to do this on his own. Have faith."
It had been no more than half a minute, but the realization was already grating on Erza. Something had gone wrong. Very, very wrong. Something had-
Then, suddenly, Ichigo put his free hand to his face, and in an instant the mask-like apparition had disappeared. The energies stabilized, now emanating Ichigo's same old raw, still untempered spiritual pulse, carrying the flavour of a shinigami. Immediately, Erza rushed to his side, taking him in her arms. Somewhat confusedly, as if just having woken up from a dream, he returned the hug and mumbled something.
"What did you do?" Erza hissed. "If I find out that you-"
"Used him as a guinea pig? In front of you where everyone could see it?" Urahara said dismissively. "You know this is not my doing. I've said it before... he is something else. He always has been. I am not the engineer of this event, only a humble bystander."
He was not trustworthy, Erza knew, but his logic was sound enough. Still undecided, she glared at the shopkeeper. Ignoring her, he called out loudly,
"Excellent, excellent!" He clapped his hands, like he had just seen a fantastic performance. "No need to be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen- that was a perfectly natural, if unusual side effect of the process!"
If the others disbelieved him like Erza did, they gave no sign, all eyes still on Ichigo.
Finally Erza breaking free from Ichigo's desperately relieved grip, she stood up straight. There was no doubting it- he was, like Rukia, like Erza, a true shinigami in his own right.
"Uh," he said. "So that worked. When do we start?"
Erza smiled. "Right now."