Chapter Text
Sousuke is alone when Kurosaki comes to confront him.
“What the hell are you playing at?!” Kurosaki shouts, his voice a growl. His eyes are narrowed and he’s out of his body, shinigami garb on and his overly large zanpakutou out and pointed at Sousuke. He’s curious about what exactly Kurosaki thinks he can do, seeing as the last time Kurosaki saw his face was when Aizen inevitably cut him down after stopping his swing with one finger.
“Welcome back, Kurosaki-kun,” Sousuke answers calmly, not twitching as the point of Kurosaki’s sword drifts slightly closer after he speaks. He stays seated at his desk, hands clasped in front of him as Kurosaki continues his outraged glare. Suigetsu’s emotions float upwards for a moment, their amusement at their situation present, before they pull themselves back in, leaving Sousuke to deal with the quickly escalating situation.
“What the hell, Aizen?” Kurosaki demands again.
“Perhaps you should sit down, Kurosaki-kun,” Sousuke gestures to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
“Like hell,” Kurosaki curses once more, his body tensing even more.
Sousuke sighs, bringing up his fingers to rub his temples, pointedly ignoring the jump in Kurosaki’s muscles at his simple movement. Sousuke knew that Kurosaki’s reaction to seeing him after witnessing Aizen’s betrayal wouldn’t be fun, but he was surprised at how fast his headache was forming. He had made his decision to interfere on Kurosaki’s behalf, and he accepted the consequences that came with that, but he found himself quickly losing both his composure and his temper. Maybe the knowledge that he had lost most, if not all, of the trust Kurosaki had given him was getting to him more than he ever thought it would?
“Kurosaki,” Sousuke says tiredly, dropping any pretenses, “sit the fuck down.”
Something about his tone must have reached past Kurosaki’s anger because he pauses for a moment, keeping his narrowed gaze on Sousuke’s hunched form. It takes him a moment, a clear deliberation of threat assessment, before Kurosaki lowers Zangetsu and then cautiously takes a seat. He doesn’t take his hand off his zanpakutou, but he is clearly willing to sit and listen for now, so Sousuke will count it as a win.
“My name is Aizen Sousuke,” he starts, ignoring the scoff Kurosaki offers at his confession. “Except, I am not the Aizen Sousuke who very recently betrayed the Gotei 13.”
Kurosaki’s brow is furrowed in confusion, but Sousuke presses forward, “I wish to stress that point: I am not him. Nor do I want the things he wants. He is a narcissistic megalomaniac with a delusional dream of godhood. He does not understand what it is to be human, what it is to feel as others do. That is what makes us different.” His words are true and they sting. Aizen hadn’t understood others. He was better at it now, with his ability to understand suffering. He always knew loneliness, the distinct feeling of being adrift without an anchor, but it is the suffering that makes him realize that human beings are far more than emotion fueled degenerates. To be human is to feel and it had taken Sousuke thousands of years to understand that concept.
“I don’t understand,” Kurosaki chews out, like he’s struggling with admitting that to Sousuke.
“To put it in simpler terms, I am an Aizen Sousuke from a different reality,” Sousuke doesn’t hesitate to tell this well constructed lie. He is from the future, but he has altered the past already. He doesn’t know if it is beyond repair, if time will force it back on the course that Sousuke is familiar with, but as far as Sousuke’s past goes, this life is not the same. Kurosaki knows things he didn’t once know, and he has advantages that this present Aizen knows nothing about. It is a lie for now, but more than likely an inevitable truth.
Kurosaki takes a moment to stare at him, incredulous. His mouth is open slightly, like if he had any less control, he would be openly gaping at him. It shoves some of the heavy feeling away, replacing it with a spark of amusement.
“You’re saying you’re from an alternate reality?” Kurosaki asks blankly, his gaping now over as he stares at Sousuke with exasperated judgement.
Sousuke brings himself to give the teen a slight smile, just the quirk of his lips, and Kurosaki groans loudly at the expression. “Fuck my life,” Kurosaki mutters, letting his head drop forward to rest against his chest.
Sousuke continue to marvel at Kuro—Ichigo’s (“Might as well call me Ichigo if you insist on being called Sousuke.”)—ability to roll with any and all punches. The teen wallows for only a few more moments before insisting that Sousuke talk to someone. Sousuke had noticed that Ichigo had come to confront him on his own, which was very foolish, and had asked the teen what he was talking about.
It was Sousuke’s turn to give a judging look when Ichigo insists that he go to Urahara Kisuke and share his knowledge.
“You’re not him, right? But you still have the same zanpakutou spirit, so you probably have the same abilities. If we get others to touch your blade, then they can break out of Aizen’s hypnosis.”
Sousuke hadn’t shared how bothered he was at the idea of Urahara Kisuke putting his grubby hands anywhere near Suigetsu, but Sousuke could admit that if Ichigo was going to insist that he meet with the man, that was a fast way in getting him to listen. By being able to see past Aizen’s hypnosis and illusions, Ichigo’s side will have a huge advantage in the upcoming war. Aizen is still powerful, but their zanpakutou ability was an invaluable boon in being able to go wherever they wanted without being hindered.
It is due to Ichigo’s encouragement that he now stands in front of the Urahara shoten, staring disdainfully at the entrance across the street. He doesn’t particularly want to go in, but Ichigo promised to warn Urahara away from attacking his surprise visitor whenever they finally stopped by.
Sousuke takes one step into the shop before Urahara has Benehime pointed directly at his face. It’s mere centimeters from his right eye, which is quite honestly both disconcerting and highly ironic. Sousuke curses Urahara for being a troll even without realizing it.
“Geta-boshi!” Ichigo yells, having been in front of the counter talking to the blonde before Sousuke entered.
Urahara doesn’t turn around, of course, far too familiar with Aizen to turn his back on Sousuke. “You didn’t tell me who your friend was, Kurosaki-kun.”
“Stop it,” Ichigo scowls as he stomps over to them. He glares for a second at Urahara before turning his full attention to Sousuke, nodding and then gesturing towards Suigetsu where they were strapped to his hip. “Let Geta-boshi touch them.”
Sousuke purses his lips slightly at the order, still not liking the idea, but he offers his hip nonetheless. Urahara won’t let him reach for his zanpakutou, that Sousuke is sure of, but the man will see an opportunity when it presents itself. Ichigo interferes on his behalf a second later, reaching out to grip Suigetsu’s hilt himself. “Touch the blade,” Ichigo says, addressing Urahara once more as he draws Suigetsu out of their sheath.
The man gives Ichigo an incredulous look, still holding Benehime steadily pointed at Sousuke’s eye.
“It breaks Aizen’s shikai ability,” Ichigo explains, scowling in return.
This catches Urahara off guard, his face darkening as he takes Sousuke in once more. He is Aizen Sousuke, they look identical, but Sousuke knows there is some difference between himself and his past self. His hair is longer and his posture must be different. Where Aizen is overconfident and relaxed, Sousuke is downtrodden and tense with bitterness. They project differently and a man as smart as Urahara Kisuke will catch onto that difference almost immediately. He must see it because he snaps his fingers, a flash of light before Sousuke’s eyes. He can feel the Shibireyubi trying to wrap itself around him to paralyze him. It is too weak to do anything to him, but because Ichigo is there Sousuke disgraces himself by immediately dropping to his knees, letting Urahara believe he has some type of control over the situation.
Urahara touches Suigetsu, sliding his pointer finds along the side of their blade. Ichigo pulls them away after a second, giving Urahara another angry look. Urahara doesn’t look repentant in the least, pulling his infuriatingly stupid hat forward to shade his eyes. Sousuke can still see his eyes, however, because of his kneeling position. They are sharp, as they look down at him, searching for something.
“Grab your friend, Kurosaki-kun,” Urahara instructs, turning his back. How confident he must be, Sousuke thinks, to turn his back. He must have such faith in Ichigo to allow these proceedings to continue. It’s truly mindboggling how much people believe in Ichigo.
“Sorry,” Ichigo grunts as he throws Sousuke’s limp arm over his shoulder, tugging him up and then dragging his limp form forward.
Sousuke can’t say anything less he reveals he isn’t actually paralyzed, but Suigetsu stirs once more, still held in Ichigo’s hand. The teen sends Sousuke’s zanpakutou a curious look, so Sousuke can correctly assume that the feeling of resigned acceptance reached him. They make their way to the back of the shoten, heading towards what Sousuke knows is the kitchen. Urahara’s lab is even farther back, hidden amongst a maze of corridors that seem too long to fit in a simple shop. It hadn’t been hard for Sousuke to navigate when he had broken in, but it would’ve immediately caused anyone else to become lost. Sousuke wonders if Urahara has noticed the missing gigai yet, or if he’s been so distracted with recent developments.
Ichigo deposits Sousuke carefully onto the floor, leaning his side against the low legged table. The kitchen doesn’t look much different than the one Sousuke has at his own apartment and it doesn’t hold his attention for long. Ichigo is fidgeting next to him, looking off towards a corner of the kitchen. Urahara is muttering something, the sound slightly muffled. Sousuke is burning with curiosity, but he keeps his head exactly where it is, still feigning paralysis.
“Who was that?” Ichigo asks as Urahara comes closer, his geta making clunky noises against the wooden floor. Urahara is a former Onmitsukido, so Sousuke wonders who he’s making the obvious noise for: Ichigo or him?
“Some mutual friends Aizen and I share,” Urahara states brightly, the sound of his fan opening whooshing behind Sousuke’s head. Sousuke has to struggle not to groan at his words. He can only hope that not all of the Visored are on their way. He can only stand dealing with a few of them at any one time.
“So, Aizen, care to share when you stole a gigai from me?” Urahara asks as he makes his way into Sousuke’s field of vision. He knows Sousuke can’t say anything in response, his words just simple taunts. Sousuke can’t narrow his eyes in response, but he still hopes his eyes communicate the annoyance he currently feels. They must because Urahara smiles at him, his grin cruel in its satisfaction.
“He says to call him Sousuke,” Ichigo butts in, not putting up with the pissing contest between the two former shinigami captains. His straight expression and chiding words almost cause Sousuke’s lips to twitch.
“Of course,” Urahara’s cheery expression doesn’t change, but his words are tight. He quite obviously doesn’t like this conversation, nor does he like the fact that Ichigo has shown favor towards him. Ichigo is even still gripping tightly onto Suigetsu, not giving them back to Sousuke, but also not letting Urahara anywhere near them again. It sends a flutter throughout Sousuke’s chest that he chooses to ignore. He can feel the content vibes Suigetsu is sending out and it doesn’t help him ignore the bubbling feelings.
There’s a soft sound behind him, a shifting of movement, before the cold prick of metal is resting against the back of his beck, Sousuke once more finding himself at sword point. Hirako Shinji had dropped his reiatsu blocking gigai as soon as he had seen Sousuke’s form and his reiatsu was bleeding with anger, the tinge of hollow Sousuke could feel was practically screaming for blood.
“Shinji,” Urahara states happily, delighted at the image the two were presenting.
Ichigo was nowhere near as happy, the teen springing up and whipping around to shout at the Visored, “What the hell do you think you’re doi—What the hell is that on your face?”
“Kisuke,” Hirako’s voice growls from behind him, the sound higher pitched than Sousuke remembers it being. The hollow mask, Sousuke realizes, must be overlaying over Hirako’s regular voice.
“Ichigo brought over a friend. He says his name is Sousuke,” Urahara answers Hirako’s unasked question, an unconcerned shrug being given in response to the incredulous look Hirako must have sent his way.
“Hey! I asked you a question!” Ichigo yelled beside him, his irritation at being ignored clouding his voice.
“This is ridiculous,” Sousuke sighs eventually, twisting around to face the blade pointed at him. The blade doesn’t move, leaving a small line being cut across his neck and then cheek, but he ignores it, looking up and freely meeting the cold gaze that is watching him. Urahara makes a disgruntled sound behind him, his fan snapping closed at the revelation that Sousuke had been faking his paralysis. “Please, take a seat, Hirako.”
The ex-captain doesn’t move from his spot, simply pushing his sword forward an inch or two where he had pulled back slightly at Sousuke’s words. It was once more pointed at his right eye. Sousuke tried not to twitch in exasperation, because honestly.
“What’s on your face?” Ichigo ground out, pointing accusingly at the white mask Hirako wore.
“It’s a hollow mask,” Sousuke answered the frustrated teen. “He went through hollowfication due to experiments Aizen performed. Remember how I told you about Urahara’s banishment? Aizen was the one behind it all. Framed them to get them out of his way.”
“Hollowfication?” Ichigo mutters in confusion, clearly latching onto the only thing that concerned him.
“Hirako, and the other Visored, are probably the ones that are going to teach you how to deal with your own hollow,” Sousuke offers up. Ichigo gives him a suspicious look, scowling at his words. The teen had never told Sousuke about his inner hollow, so him knowing about it anyway probably made the teen uncomfortable. Sousuke shrugged slightly in compensation. Ichigo knows he is from a different time; Sousuke knows a lot of things that people here have never told him.
“What the fuck is going on?” Hirako asks, finally speaking up once more.
“Sousuke is from a different reality,” Ichigo replies, glaring at the man. “He’s here to help.”
This sentence gets both of them even more judgmental looks. Sousuke can already feel his headache from earlier slowly coming back.
Hirako touches Suigetsu with disdain, scoffing at the feel of them underneath his fingertips. Sousuke wants to snap at him afterwards, wring his neck for whatever thoughts he’s projecting Suigetsu’s way, but they are quickly immersed in what exactly Sousuke is doing in an alternate version of his own reality. Suigetsu finds their way back to his side eventually, after hours of shouting and debate. Ichigo gives them back to him with a nod and a lingering touch being placed upon Suigetsu’s naked form. It pleases something in Sousuke, watching the reverence Suigetsu deserves. His zanpakutou spirit didn’t always get the recognition they deserved, especially from Sousuke, so seeing someone else acknowledge their worth and feelings was incredibly pleasing.
Seeing the calculating gaze and hate filled sneer sent his way when he stepped out of his stolen gigai was anything but pleasing. The other two, or at least Urahara, would surely recognize the clothing he wore as old Muken garbs. They no longer did anything to hold his powers back, Sousuke had to do that on his own, but they were still distinct enough that they were recognizable. Him being seen in them probably did nothing to put him in any favorable light, but Sousuke can’t bring himself to care about their opinions. He only cares what Ichigo thinks about it, and the teen bats away any thoughts he has except for one: “What’s with the eyepatch?”
“Stylistic choice,” is what Sousuke shoots back at him, smirking slightly at the snort Ichigo gives in response. In truth, the eyepatch was the only piece of clothing that still held some type of binding kido to it. Sousuke could touch it and remove it if he wanted to, but some of the hogyoku’s power still lingered along his skin. It was easier to use the eyepatch to hide that flavor of power from his reiatsu. There isn’t much of a reason for the occupants of the room to know about the semi-successful attempt Sousuke made fusing with the orb.
“It’s been a long day,” Ichigo insists, yawning as he stands. We can come back tomorrow to continue arguing.”
Sousuke draws himself up after the teen, stepping into his previously discarded gigai. Suigetsu’s illusion of the man known as Kagami-sensei lays heavy over his skin and it’s interesting to watch Hirako and Urahara take in the shifting transformation. Now that tey have both touched his blade, they will be able to see past the illusion, seeing Sousuke standing there covered by a semi-translucent image of a nondescript man.
They can’t force Sousuke to stay, so they do their best to guarantee he will return with Ichigo the next day, Hirako promising to start Ichigo’s hollow training as soon as they get Sousuke’s situation sorted out. When the exit the shoten, the sun is close to setting, the fiery orange sky close to falling away to an inky blue night. Sousuke takes the opportunity to ignore his interrogators for the first time since he entered the shoten, waiting patiently as Ichigo gave his goodbyes. The teen makes his way over to Sousuke and then they start the trek towards Ichigo’s home without saying a word.
They bump shoulders accidentally as they stroll, a simple brush of clothing. Sousuke glances sideways at Ichigo and is pleased to see a light dusting of pink grace the teen’s face. Sousuke’s isn’t quite sure what exactly is going on between them, their relationship no longer mentor and mentoree, but he can’t deny that he is cautiously pleased that they are still something. Ichigo parts from him with a lackadaisical hand wave, the flush to his face giving away his forced nonchalance. Sousuke doesn’t call him on it, simply turns away and heads towards his own home.
‘It is not too late,’ Suigetsu says, springing forth in his mind. They are wearing white once more, though their kimono is lined with shimmery gold patterns, fancy and detailed golden flowers lining their sleeves. They have golden flowers weaved throughout their long dark hair as well, a beautiful image.
“Hm?” Sousuke hums out loud, hands in his pockets as he meanders.
‘To leave,’ Suigetsu explains. ‘We do not need to continue to interfere. The game has already changed.’
Sousuke hums again in response, craning his head up to look at the slowly spearing stars. It was true; Sousuke had already interfered irrefutably. This present Aizen has no idea that the nuisance he sees as Urahara has just become his downfall. Ichigo is the only person who was ever able to meet Aizen blow for blow, but Sousuke in intimately familiar that Urahara Kisuke is the only person to ever meet his intellect, but also pass his genius. With Urahara being able to see past any of Aizen’s bullshit, the likelihood that this Aizen will get as far as Sousuke did is almost nonexistent.
A flash of memory, the brief sight of pink across Ichigo’s cheeks, is enough to dismiss the idea of leaving. “No,” Sousuke answers softly, his gaze no longer really taking the stars in. “I think it best we stick around for a while."
Suigetsu projects acceptance at his words, their amusement laced throughout.
Letting so many others touch his zanpakutou is a very real strain on his patience. Everyone that is thrusted in front of him, sneer ever present, is grating against his already high-strung nerves. The single saving grace to the entire time he is forced to interact with all those that consider him their enemy is Ichigo ever-present at his side. The teen openly scowls at and dismiss all who snap at him. It is not like he doesn’t deserve their harsh words or ugly attitudes; he does. He was the man that ruined their lives and reputations. To their knowledge, however, he is an alternate Aizen, one who has not committed the same crimes as the man who experimented on them. Still, Sousuke does not blame them for their anger. That doesn’t stop him from getting irritated at the constant bombardment of questions and accusations.
“Describe the Espada again,” Urahara asks for the third time, notes strewn across the table in front of him.
“Does he have to?” Ichigo groans from beside Sousuke, head falling down to lay on top of his crossed arms.
Sousuke sighs, beyond tired of the current proceedings. “You have physical descriptions of both their appearance and their abilities. Quite honestly, once you have those, the only thing that really mattes is their willingness to betray Aizen.”
“To betray you?” Urahara looks up at that, eyes gleaming,
“Him,” Ichigo corrects, his voice muffled.
“Him,” Sousuke stresses again, giving Urahara a tired look. “Most of the Espada feel beholden to Aizen. They are loyal to him. There are a couple, however, who would turn their backs on him if given the right incentive.”
Urahara doesn’t acknowledge their insistence on keeping Sousuke and Aizen apart as two separate beings, but he does flap his hand at Sousuke, encouraging him to continue as he scribbles something n the paper in front of him.
“There is the Tres Espada, Tier Harribel. She is only with Aizen because she believes he can help protect her fraccion. If you can guarantee they won’t come to any harm in battle, she will turn against him. Then the Sexta Espada, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, doesn’t much care for Aizen’s authority. Or any authority for that matter. He respects those who are strong, but Aizen’s willingness to let others fight his battles doesn’t sit right with him. I know for a fact that he becomes quite interested in Ichigo in my reality I doubt that would change.”
Ichigo looks curious at his words about Grimmjow, his face considering. Sousuke has no idea how close the two became. Sousuke had thought the Sexta Espada dead until his name was mentioned by a guard a few hundred years into his Muken sentence. He had been offhandedly mentioned as helping Ichigo with something, so the two must have struck up some kind of friendship by that time.
“Are there anymore willing to defect?” Urahara asks, hand quickly scribbling Sousuke’s information down.
“Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, the former Tres Espada, has already left the ranks and is currently suffering some type of amnesia as far as I’m aware. She wouldn’t want to fight with Aizen once she regains her memories anyway. The only other Espada I can think of that might consider it is Coyote Starrk. The Primera Espada is incredibly powerful and that makes it very difficult for others to be in his presence without dying. He follows Aizen because the man can stand to be around him. What Starkk hates most is loneliness. Offer him companions who can be around him without flinching and, who knows?”
Sousuke continues to offer up knowledge on what the Espada and Números are like. It’s an experience, combing through memories he had not thought of for millennium. There are certain arrancar that he can’t even picture, their powers and names escaping him. They are unimportant in the long run, so Sousuke returns his focus to those that he does remember. It is when describing Wonderweiss Margela nd his modifications that Sousuke remembers Aizen’s companions in betrayal. Tousen went along with Aizen with no ulterior motives. Gin, however—
“Ichimaru Gin is a double agent,” Sousuke offers at his revelation.
“What?” Urahara asks, almost dropping his pen.
“That guy with the creepy smile?” was Ichigo’s contribution to the conversation, his head now lying sideways against his arms so he could look directly at Sousuke.
“He specifically joined Aizen to kill him,” Sousuke goes on. “He witnessed Aizen and some of his cohorts steal some of Matsumoto Rangiku’s soul to feed to his hogyoku.”
Urahara has stopped taking notes at this point, his expression dangerous as he stares Sousuke down. Sousuke isn’t intimidated, just calmly meets the shopkeeper’s eyes. Ichigo is tense next to him, his muscles pulled tight in anticipation for a fight to break out. Instead, Urahara turns back to his notes, his face blank once more. Ichigo relaxes slightly next to him, nudging Sousuke’s knee with his own. Sousuke nudges back to comfort the teen, feeling him slump back into his former position.
They don’t allow him to come with them when the inevitably go to confront Aizen in Hueco Mundo. It is months earlier than when the war started in Sousuke’s time and if anything is pointing towards this past becoming a new reality it is this fact. Ichigo isn’t as strong as Aizen, not yet, but he doesn’t need to be. The shinigami and Gotei 13 are mobilized and hold the advantage over Aizen and his still growing arrancar army.
They are gone for weeks, long enough that Sousuke becomes marginally worried for Ichigo’s welfare. His worries are unfounded, however, when Ichigo and his ever-present followers troop back into Karakura Town three weeks after they departed. Ichigo is rather beat up, covered in bandages and unconscious when Sousuke makes his way over to Urahara’s shoten, but he’s alive, which is saying something about Ichigo’s continued perseverance. Sousuke wavers, uncertain if he should stick around by Ichigo’s bedside, but he knows he’s far outstayed his welcome in the shoten by the way Urahara is constantly following Sousuke with his eyes, gaze burning into Sousuke’s back.
He leaves Ichigo to recover from his battle, certain in Ichigo’s continued existence, so he is caught off guard when Benehime slices through his chest.
He is out of his gigai, lounging around the sports shed in preparations for the new school ear to begin, when he is stabbed through the back, sword piercing out of his chest. He looks down at it, blood coating his front as he registers the reiatsu signatures circling him. There are several outside the shed, Ukitake Juushirou and Kyouraku Shunsui amongst them, but it is the signatures inside the shed that mostly hold his attention. Urahara’s blood thirsty reiatsu is pressed tightly against his back, which helps identify his attacker. Hirako’s satisfaction bleeds into his reiatsu, the man himself appearing from behind a kido barrier the next second. With him, to Sousuke’s interest, is Kurosaki Isshin, whose still in his gigai. Another tightly leashed reiatsu signature is sitting guard on the roof, one identified as Shihouin Yoruichi when Sousuke gives it enough thought.
Sousuke is impressed at their ingenuity, to possibly find a kido barrier than he can’t sense being set up, but his thoughts fly out of his head when Urahara twists Benehime slightly, the burning pain in his chest intensifying. Sousuke is quick to draw Suigetsu, a muttered, “Shatter,” falling from his lips as he releases his shikai. Urahara forces Benehime farther through his chest, causing Sousuke to cough sharply, blood flying from his mouth.
“Your illusions won’t work on us,” Hirako says smugly, his own zanpakutou not even drawn. “You let Ichigo borrow your zanpakutou long enough for Isshin to negate the effects on himself.”
The words hurt worse than the sword through his chest. Their implication, that Ichigo was a part of this plan, that the teen was in agreement with their idea to literally stab him in the back, sends his stomach into freefall. Suigetsu in incensed, practically shaking in Sousuke’s hand. Sousuke meets Hirako’s eyes, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth, before he tightens his grip on his zanpakutou, gasping out, “Shatter,” once more.
Hirako scoffs at him, joining Isshin in rolling his eyes at Sousuke’s words. Urahara is muttering behind him now, a binding kido Sousuke is familiar with on the tip of his fingers. Sousuke hacks up even more blood, his reitsu lashing out once, before he collapses forward, Benehime sliding out of his chest and back as he pitches towards the ground. Or, at least, an image of him does.
He extracts himself from Benehime at the same time his illusion does, his face set into a deep grimace. He takes the chance to glance at Urahara, not surprised to find the man in his old Onmitsukido uniform. Suigetsu sustains the illusion, Urahara’s binding kido flaring to life as the man fires it at the prone image of Sousuke lying on the floor.
Sousuke hadn’t ever found much use for his bankai. His shikai, his ultimate hypnosis, was incredibly valuable to him when he had made his plans so long ago. The ability to ensnare the five senses and convince anyone of anything was a heady power to hold. His bankai, on the other hand, was not something he had thought he would really have to use. Why would he ever let anyone touch his naked blade, after all? His bankai, when activated, allowed all those immune to his shikai, and within a certain distance, to once more be able to be caught in his shikai’s hypnosis. It had its drawbacks over course. While anyone who touches his blade in shikai could negate the effects of his hypnosis until he released his bankai, any who touched his bankai would not fall to his hypnosis ever again. He had never wanted to take the chance that someone could grab ahold of Kyouka Suigetsu while they held their bankai form.
He glances down at his zanpakutou, taking in the pitch-black blade. There was no shine to their bankai form at all, the black so dark and matte it seemed to consume the light around it. Sousuke hadn’t seen this form centuries before he had made captain, so it was an unfamiliar sight now. He could see Suigetsu in his head, their white kimono now just as dark as their matching blade. Their face, once covered in a blank white mask, is now bare. They are beautiful, feminine features framed by meticulous lines of golden makeup. Their once long hair is short, a smart pixie now gracing their head. Dark brown eyes stare out, darker even than his own, narrowed at him in indignation. Their painted eyebrows are perfectly placed as well, arched upwards as they hiss angrily at the backstabbers from Sousuke’s inner world.
‘Kill them,’ they insist, outrage flooding from them to Sousuke in waves.
‘I cannot,’ Sousuke answers in his head, unwilling to give away his position by speaking out loud.
‘Why?’ Suigetsu demands.
‘Ichigo,’ Sousuke responds, feeling the flinch Suigetsu releases. His zanpakutou spirits calms slightly at the name, brow still furrowed and indignation still clear, but no longer filling Sousuke’s head with the need for vengeance.
The illusion Sousuke that has been on the floor is hacking up blood violently, a small puddle forming beneath it. Urahara and Hirako had been joined by Shihouin at some point, the woman having not made a sound at her entrance.
“You need to hurry,” she is saying as Urahara works on something in his hands, his reiatsu building and then dropping intermittedly. “Ichigo must have sensed something because Tessai’s barrier has failed: he’s on his way here now.”
This catches Sousuke’s attention immediately. Does Shiouhin’s words mean that they were hiding this from Ichigo? That is was possible the teen had not wanted Sousuke’s death after all?
There’s a commotion outside suddenly, a loud shout of surprise followed by an outraged scream.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Ichigo’s voice shouts, his anger obvious.
Sousuke doesn’t waste a second, manipulating his illusion to make it so it seemingly drags itself up, surprising the four in the shed with him. They are surprised enough that he manages to leave the shed, the sun bright as both he and the after image stagger their way across the threshold.
Ichigo is glaring Ukitake down, Zangetsu grasped tightly in both of his hands. He turns to the entrance as soon as Sousuke makes his way out, eyes widening at the blood covering his front. He tracks the illusion’s fall as it collapses to the ground, but quickly glances back up at him, still standing.
Sousuke glances behind him, where his attackers have emerged from the shed, and then back to Ichigo. The teen doesn’t hesitate to draw his eyes away from him and then back to the illusion.
“What the hell happened?” Ichigo asks, bursting past the 13th division captain and slamming to his knees as he goes to Sousuke’s illusion. He attempts to stem some of the blood flow, grimacing when his hands meet solid flesh when he obviously had expected to have to fake the contact. He scowls even harder when he glances at the blood coating his hands.
“Aizen, no matter what version, can’t be allowed to live, Ichigo,” Shihouin answers him, her voice softer than she usually has it.
Ichigo growls at her in response, his reiatsu tinted with a hollow laced edge as he glares at her. “He helped us,” Ichigo states in response, gaze flickering towards his father as the man approaches.
“Ichigo, get away from him,” Kurosaki Isshin demands, frown harsh against his face.
Ichigo continues to try to top the illusion’s bleeding, ignoring his father’s command. “I don’t even want to know how the hell you’re involved in this,” the teen grumbled out, finally dismissing his father.
Sousuke forgot that Ichigo didn’t always know about his father’s past in the Gotei 13. It must be a shock now, to see him here amongst Ichigo’s allies as they stand over a slowly dying illusion of Sousuke.
“Ichigo,” Sousuke says, his illusion a stereo to his own words. Ichigo glances up very briefly at him, before he looks back down to the illusion beneath his hands.
“Yeah?” Ichigo asks, his throat swallowing loudly at his strangled words. All of the anger has seemingly melted away from his face, only concern and the sharp edge of fear now presenting itself.
“I’m sorry,” Sousuke settles on, choking up himself. “I wanted to a chance to change myself. I knew that if anyone could stop me, it would be you. You, who shine so brightly in the dark. I waited 18,000 years for the chance to die, and now I find myself wanting to live again.”
His words have left Ichigo flustered and confused, his comment about the amount of time he was imprisoned leaving all of those listening in shocked. They must be, at the idea that he has lived for thousands of years past what was previously thought possible. They never met with an Aizen who had fused with the hogyoku, after all, so they can’t even begin to understand what kind of being Sousuke is compared to their now fallen enemy. Sousuke is an entire class above Aizen when it comes to longevity.
“You can’t die,” Ichigo forces out, his eyes slowly turning from brown to gold, tears building in the corners. Sousuke can feel the hollow inside Ichigo growing stronger as he’s growing more and more emotional. Sousuke bends down next to the teen, his hand meeting his illusion hand as they both gently connect to touch Ichigo’s heated cheek.
“It is all I had hoped for, for so long,” he whispers into Ichigo’s ear, grimly delighted at the slight shiver the teens gives. “Perhaps it is time to give in.”
Sousuke brushes his thumb along Ichigo’s cheek bone, catching a few of the teen’s tears, before he retracts his hand, standing and taking a step back from the scene before him. His illusion is glowing slightly, the projected reiatsu around the figure flaking away into glowing white pieces. It’s a dramatically sad show, a shinigami dying in the arms of someone who cares, and Sousuke can see tat the others are eating it up. Everyone around him is grim with satisfaction at his death, the last knots between their shoulders being relieved as any reminder of Aizen is erased from their world. Ichigo, on the other hand, has started crying freely now, watching the illusion fall apart in his hands.
Sousuke wants to say something else, tell Ichigo about how deeply he has affected him, but his illusion is almost gone already. Within a few seconds, Ichigo’s arms are empty, even the blood having disintegrated into particles. The others around him start to approach him, but Ichigo lashes out with his reiatsu, his hollow mask slowly forming on his face.
“Leave,” he grinds out, looking up to glare menacingly at the people around him. Only Urahara hesitates as they all do as Ichigo asks, stopping by the teen before he can fully pass him.
“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Kurosaki-kun,” the man offers, quickly following the others when Ichigo lashes out with Zangetsu.
Sousuke stays silent as the others disappear from the school courtyard, only Ichigo and Sousuke left in the silent afternoon.
“How—” Ichigo starts, his voice trembling, before he shakes his head, hollow mask leaving as quickly as it formed. “I’m sorry. That I couldn’t stop them.”
Sousuke watches the teen, who stays on the ground before him. He doesn’t look up, even when Sousuke kneels before him once more. His eyes are still slightly golden, his hollow still close to the surface, and it strikes Sousuke that they are almost identical to the woman who sent him back in time. It’s a curious discovery, one he will examine at a later date. Now, he brings his hands to cup Ichigo’s face one more time. He forces the teen to look at him, all anguished sincerity visible for Sousuke’s perusal.
Without a second thought, Sousuke’s brings Ichigo’s face closer and brushes a light kiss against the teen’s mouth. Ichigo doesn’t even hesitate, bringing his own hands up to grasp Sousuke’s wrists in desperation, their light kiss turning rougher. It doesn’t last long, Sousuke pulls away before it can, but it feels like it lasts for hours, Sousuke’s mouth hot against Ichigo’s own.
Sousuke’s licks his lips as they part, leaning his forehead against Ichigo’s own. The teen’s eyes are closed, and his mouth is still parted slightly, his face pinker than Sousuke has ever seen it before. Sousuke takes this image in, desperate to have it committed to memory, regardless of how ever many years Sousuke continues to exist. Sousuke can feel his wound closing and he knows that his time with Ichigo is up.
With a parting hum, Sousuke extracts himself from Ichigo’s grip and disappears before Ichigo can open his eyes once more.
“It’s curious,” Sousuke finds himself saying, warm tea cupped in his hands. The shop he’s in is small, the hostess and Sousuke being the only two in the building at such a late hour. They will be open for another thirty minutes, though the girl who brought his tea has been giving him looks for the past five minutes, obviously wanting to start cleaning early in order to close sooner.
‘What is?’ Suigetsu asks idly.
“The figure who sent us back. How familiar she looked,” Sousuke says, ignoring the odd look the girl sends him as he seemingly talked to himself. She stops wiping the counter, making her way towards the back of the shop. She disappears behind the swinging doors and Sousuke finds himself smirking slightly. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Kyouka Suigetsu?”
Auburn hair twists in his mind, golden eyes flashing in amusement. There is a curl to the lips that grace the delicate face that is open to him. Suigetsu is wearing a white kimono once more, untarnished by any other detail. Their hair and eyes are the only splash of color to grace his vision. The mask that once kept their face hidden is gone for good, painted eyebrows quirking up in silent laughter.
‘No,’ they respond, delight clouding their voice. ‘I think all has been said and done.’
Sousuke sips his tea, his own smile barely visible behind his teacup. All has been said and done, indeed.