Water.
He met water.
He didn't know why there was water surrounding him at all sides, encompassing each and every inch of his body, but he found himself at peace with such a feeling. They continued to calm his ceaseless rage, and by extension, the unbridled fervor of combat that once corrupted his train of thought... was slowly, but surely, sizzling down to naught but a steaming breath.
Bubbles formed around him—cascading outwards—that was what he felt. His eyes didn't want to open toward the world, for the tantalizing kiss draped with rest had completely overtaken him. From the gaping hole in his heart, to the diluted blood of many sealed deep in the walls of his veins, none were clamoring for action.
Calming... calming... calming... It furthermore became the medicine to his vile instinct, the one vying for protection of others, mindless in whatever it had done in order to achieve such a virtuous desire. The balm had been applied to the gaping wound, yet a meager ointment wasn't enough to quell the deep-seated viscera wrought from deep within, therefore...
...There was something around him, and it wasn't just the water. Danger, that was what he felt. Danger, that was what was scraping at his iron-clad skin. Danger, that was what was provoking his instinct once more, from all angles, from all sides, from all degrees of placement; and loathe did his instinct bear that sort of feeling toward it.
Chipping at him. Biting at him. Those fangs and claws, as ceaseless as him, yet aimless in their goal—only striving for what he could instinctually feel as survival irked him to no end. Yet again, the command to rise up at this hour of need, and take action was evoked by a spell casted onto his body.
Pressure rose, bending the water molecules around him, tearing at the skin, flesh, and bones which surrounded him. A strange blue-greenish liquid mixed in with the salted waters surrounding him, becoming a tincture made from the essence of ichor. The body once slept in the bed of comfort and serenity twitched its pale fingers—waking the claws embroidered with destruction, yet also tipped with ebony.
Atop the ivory hide which composed his skin, leading all the way toward his dual-horned head, two shut eyes finally opened, revealing a searing light of amber from them. It tore through the decadent darkness, unveiling from under the deep blues what laid beneath. A monster such as himself was in the presence of other monsters, and as the fittest to survive, he would bear his nature's gift granted since birth.
A spiritual gift.
It was then a vermillion orb formed between the crevices of his two horns, swirling into a gargantuan size enough to rival his own body in its entirety. The strange beasts afflicted by his Spiritual Pressure swam away at the sight. Unfortunately, their affected bodies granted the chances of survivability no reprieve, and their exit upon the scene proved fruitless.
When the pulsating course of energy had reached its peak, a silent roar gurgled by the absence of oxygen was heard, rippling the water and turning the tides. No longer was the depths of the ocean a black chasm where light would never reach, for a source of one bearing the incandescence of the sun had been made.
A large bulge was formed at the surface of the mist-stricken sea—all originating from below—with water evaporating at an unprecedented rate. The muted scream of a gorgon could be heard from underneath, deafening out the sound of the crashing waves and the transparent critters of rain hailing from the sky. A heat undeniable in its stature, burst upwards, fully incinerating all liquid and parting a large hole in the ocean.
The waves, tantamounting to what was millions of tons of water, shifted to the side. A beam shot upwards, rupturing the mantle of the earth and parted the mist, providing a brief moment of illumination which broke through all fog. Red was the sky, as the beam in the form of dispelled Reiatsu was not too dissimilar to a gigantic laser in all intents and purposes.
The sound not too dissimilar to a thunderclap in volume subsided, as the pillar of pure energy had finally disintegrated on its own vices. A gaping hole still remained, soon to be repaired by the weight of the sea, ushering the wound back in place, in the form of flowing enclosement. Beckoning forth not too long after was a gray haze, covering the sight from all prying eyes once more. No more screams were heard, no more roars were present, for all that remained; Was silence.
***
Time was steady, yet Ichigo Kurosaki didn't know how stable it would remain. Right now, his body moved on its own, without any decree granted by himself, or any bout of exertion exiting his muscles. Well, he felt movement from his body, but they weren't following his own whims, because his mind had been far too cloudy to make such demands. What he could wholly feel was still... once again... water.
The ripples upon his body was still a magnificent feeling if he had to say so himself. How he had ended up in an environment with water still escaped him at the very moment, and he was sure that he should have been far more panicked than what he was feeling right now... but he'd be damned if this moment of rest wasn't the greatest feeling he'd had in the longest time. It beat being dusted with sulfur and facing down a maniac ready to compromise his sister's own life was—
—Wait...
Sister...
He still... His sister... his sister!
He still needed to save his sister!
The thoughts spiraled through his mind, his body still drifting amongst the ocean's flow, the current taking him elsewhere. A sense of urgency overcame himself the more he drifted away, as if he were being pulled away from the confines of his known world, the security that was once held when in the presence of friends—familiar faces who would always stand beside him, or guard his back when the time needed.
Through each nerve interwoven into his body like a delicate tapestry of systems, they fired off their potential action from the demands of his brain. No longer would he let his body remain in the control of something else, whether it be the damnable Hollow stuck inside his Inner World, or the uncontrollable instincts hard-coded inside himself. Action needed to be taken—fast. If he didn't do so, Ichigo was afraid of what would happen next.
Lethargically, his limbs finally flailed to his commands, pushing against the harsh and apathetic waves of the water. Despite his body floating above the liquid sheets carrying himself an unknown upstream, it felt heavier than anything in the world. The burdens he thought himself to be liberated of just before, were once again pressing down upon his shoulders like weights—far more heavier than when he was under the pressure of the sea.
His mind became weightless and light, his vision clouded with the blurring salt and furthermore adding to his irritation. It was only by some miracle that he eventually found his hand clamping at something familiar, far different from the dusty wastelands of Hell and the smooth texture of water that had been barraging him non-stop. The feeling invading his senses was sand, similar to the beaches he would vacate with his friends on their off-time.
Ichigo felt his mind short-circuiting. The instincts belonging to that of a Hollow continued to mess with himself, and he loathed it with a passion. So despite the accomplishing feat of finding land—somehow—he was once more struck by an incomprehensible feeling corrupting his logical thought processes. It demanded him to protect, it forced him to protect, and protect he would.
His body stagnated, and fell over.
Flopped over the ground, he could only feel the sand. Moist sand, to be precise. Despite the sensation breaking away from the insanity that was being stranded in the ocean, it was discomforting. He rose upwards, slowly but surely, lugging the mound of... whatever his skin was made of—his thoughts were too incoherent to make sense of what was around him.
He opened his mouth, letting salt water flow out of it and onto the ground. There was no need to choke, his limping body dispelling all foreign substances until completion. A single step was taken, and his knee buckled beneath itself, forcing him to regain balance. When he did, a second step was taken atop the blasted sands, leaving a clawed imprint of his feet, until the third step.
A chain was wrapped around his right around like the coils of a snake, dragging a large black object behind himself. Now that caused his body to pause, and take a look backwards, toward the familiar object. Trailing behind him was the rest of the chains as they were attached to his blade—his pitch-black Zanpakuto, Tensa Zangetsu, still intermittently stuck in its Bankai state, bearing a form of status and power.
Through the fog, he lifted his right arm with his fingers limply pointing toward the weapon splayed across the ground, dispersing the rotten particles which were around it. Chains rattled as he finally called upon the weapon, a spiritual connection that only lay within Zanpakuto and its wielder. Henceforth, Tensa Zangetsu burst through the air as if attracted by some invisible magnetic force, slamming into the palms of his hand perfectly.
Good. Good.
It was perfect.
The familiar weight belonging to the weapon, the memories ingrained deep into his muscles, were far more satiating than whatever brief respite the lucid waters of euphoria could ever provide.
Afterall—a King needed its Horse.
***
A woman dressed in the spirals of bright crimson walked amongst the shore, gazing off into the deep horizon laid hanging above the rolling sheets of darkened teal. The waves once more surged up and down, undulating a sleepless song into her ears, calling upon her to come, arrive, and sink deep into the wakeless waters. But she hadn't, and merely stood upon the ledge of a sharpened rock jutting off the side, naturally stationed over a beach as she watched.
The once delicate ocean waters were now plagued with a fogged disordinance. Chaos brewed from underneath, singing its melody for all but themselves to hear. But she knew, the sounds of discord would soon reach to the surface and distort what familiarity would be known of the lands who were ignorant to them.
Slow and insidious, but eventually—it would come.
With a low sigh, the white-haired woman softly grasped at the strings attached to the case she carried over her shoulder. The wind caressed her face and carried her hair through it, making it become one with the ethereal zephyr. A muzzy melody was produced between the two, intermingling with the loud crashes of the sea, once more ushering a response from her.
She, however, would not respond. Perhaps some other time she would have done so, but the current mellowing time did not call for such distractions. Taking an effortless heave to rebalance the case hanging off of her shoulders, the woman was just about to make her departure from the painted canvas before her, but... came to a stop.
A flash of red light was just barely seen in front of her, stemming from what was behind.
Her back once turned to the scene stopped all signs of movements. The soles of her feet once planted firmly against the ground shifted, imperceptibly twisting back toward the direction of Sal Viento's beaches. There was something that had drawn her attention back toward it, and it wasn't anything she could say eased her in the slightest.
The billowing substance of water crashed onto the beach once more, soaking into the sands, before crawling back from whence it came. Despite the unchanging rhythm that was the process of the miniature tidal waves, there was something different, far different than what she had been gazing at before. There was a hint of life that she sensed, crawling above the sheets, and it was dangerous.
Pressure.
A faint pressure was exuded, prompting the woman to narrow her eyes and clutch at the straps holding her case tighter. Breaking away from her current paused position, she fully runed back to register what she was seeing in the waters, and had come to the realization that—there was indeed—something coming out of the beaches, for her subconscious mind hadn't betrayed her. The sands twisted with each step of that thing arose from the water's bidding, far different from any Sea Terror she had come to witness in her time.
...She needed to see what it was.
***
Her feet moved across the sands as wary steps were taken to investigate the strange phenomenon. Across the blanketing fog so thick it could leave somebody choking on it, she continued to traverse through it as if it hadn't been even much of a bother. Sounds of the sand crushing underneath the weight of her steps echoed softly into her ears, but it provided no comfort. Why? Because there was another pair, just as slow as hers, just as heavy as hers, making it out of the lucid waters.
She came to a stop, staring. A figure was making its way out, blackened out from the distance they were at, and from the heavy concentration of the fog lingering all over the sleeping city. Instantaneously, her eyes narrowed in caution as her other hand hovered closely to the case she was carrying, entering a form primed for combat. It would only take a single movement, for her hand to unclasp the lock sealing away what was inside the case, and immediately draw it out for the world to see.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The sounds of footsteps continued to reverberate across the area, encompassing it in solitude. Two objects scraped against the sand, that much she could tell, that much she could start to perceive when it sauntered ever closer to herself.
The thing finally revealed itself to her once its approach had also come to a stop. Its head was hung low, obscuring any details. But when it turned upwards, it showed off its inhuman face, carved with ivory bones and possessing a permanently scorning visage. There was an equally white horn at each side of its temples, pointing toward her along with its gaze. Flowing orange hair reaching just below its waist could be seen, the thing's posture bent downwards as if it were a wounded beast.
Black chains were wrapped around its right hand, with a weapon clasped in between its fingers. Said chains were also wrapped around its arm, traveling upwards and ending just short above where its elbow was. There was a gaping hole in its chest, which—by all means—should have rendered it immobile, yet it still moved. Maybe that was why it had been limping so much? But that didn't matter at the deafening moment.
The white-haired woman kept her expression neutral, clinically analyzing every aspect of it. From the potentially hard skin that looked like bones, to the only weapon in its hand, she could only assume that it was some aberrational Sarkaz corrupted by unseen forces. By immediate approximation, and by the uncanny look the monstrous being possessed, she had come to the conclusion that it wasn't capable of logic or reasoning.
So there they stood, at an impasse.
Not one spoke, not one exited from the posture they were in, and not one dared to move so much as a muscle.
Danger.
Whatever stood before her was dangerous, and the woman knew that she would have to keep her steps steady, and operate in a mode of combat that would allow zero failures. Whatever this pressure surrounding herself and the monster was, didn't help with her mood either.
Yet... what happened next completely threw away what she presently knew.
The thing opened its mouth, speaking in a language she could recognize, "Pro...tect... protect... where..." A low groan escaped the gaping teeth of the thing. It was distorted, disbelonging to that of a human.
She clasped her lips shut as her brows furrowed in confusion. Not once did her posture hitch, but... "You can speak...?" A means of communication could... potentially be established, from what the thing was saying, and perhaps... "What are you?" It spoke a language she didn't know, but then much to her silent shock—changed to Victorian in its next sentence—the language she was defaultly speaking.
"Me...? I...?" Strangely enough, it seemed to have understood her words, and raised its left arm—the one not holding the weapon—and pointed to itself. "I am... I am..." It looked like it was attempting to say something, to make its words coherent. "I am... Kuro—Kurosaki... Ichigo..."
A name. It possessed a name, possessing an origin she could only vaguely recall. "...Have you become mindless... Ichigo?" she said in a measured tone, attempting to not provoke it. If she did, then combat would be inevitable.
"Mind...? I, think... I can, think..." Although still scrambling to make a coherent sentence, the way it harshly pointed to itself was enough to tell her that some form of irritation was prominent. "I can... speak... rough... but it... rough..." Frustration seemed to briefly overcome it in the form of its features scrunching up.
"If you can communicate..." She kept her eyes locked onto it, barely resisting the urge to release her case's lock. "Then are you friend or foe...? In fact, what are you?" Its presence oozed of something unnatural, a far cry from anything she was familiar with.
Its posture shifted, even if it still pointed to itself. The twitching movement had almost sprung impatience and uncertainty in her ability to not attack, but she reigned herself in.
"Friend... I am, friend...!" It would have almost been comedic with the way it pointed more harshly at itself while squinting, but its form certainly did not provide the complete piece needed for humor "I am... human..." it said, but looked down at itself, a small pause overcoming it, and by extension, herself. "...Human...? No... No longer... human... I was... human..." A tone laced with sorrow became present, making her even more confused.
Still keeping up her emotionless mask, she continued questioning it amongst the beaches. "If you truly mean no harm..." Still, despite the thing's words, the woman couldn't bring herself to fully believe it with its black weapon in hand, and the faint pressure it exorbitantly exuded. "Then prove it." It was hard to believe that what stood before her was once human... Did that mean it had, indeed, become corrupted?
The entire thing was a mystery. It didn't help that she was struggling with other problems aside from this, namely searching for a friend which had been whisked away for... complex matters she couldn't understand.
"Prove...?" it spoke again, glancing downward, toward the weapon it still held. "Ah... prove..." Its rumbling voice sounded like it had come to a realization, as it gazed upon its weapon. With a mere flick of its wrist, the weapon it once held had been dematerialized, disappearing into thin air.
She watched in silence, assuming it was some sort of Arts which had done it. The pressure surrounding the monstrosity had also subsided, bringing relief upon herself. Even then, despite all of that, her caution hadn't fallen in the slightest.
Afterwards, without any word needing to be spoken, the thing raised both of its hands toward its... skull(?) and grabbed at it. She blinked once, watching it start to pull at it, attempting to tear it off from her view. Unfortunately or... fortunately...? It proved fruitless for the thing, seeing as how its fingers slipped off before anything could have happened.
"...What are you doing?" She watched as it stumbled backwards, its head reeling back as a small grunt escaped its lips.
"Mask... I need... remove... mask..." Its hand moved toward its face again, attempting to pry it off. "If I need... to prove..." Again, and again, and again, and again. It attempted, fruitlessly, over and over again, to tear it off. It almost looked pitiful. With each attempt, it failed miserably, a gnawing sense of anger starting to overcome it. "If I need... to prove... to prove..." It was seated on the ground now, legs crossed, still struggling with removing the supposed mask on its face.
"Stop," she said, watching as the thing did indeed, stop. She remembered very briefly that it had asked a question. "Do you not know where you are?"
"...Japan...? Hueco... Mundo...? Soul... Society...?" It repeated terms she was unfamiliar with, as if hoping she knew them. "The World of the... Living...? Earth...?" Two more terms were stated.
Her lips thinned at all of the unfamiliar terms being thrown her way. "Earth is the only term I am familiar with. Are... you referring to the ground?"
"..." It stared dumbly at her from its seated position, making her reciprocate the same gaze it was giving her. "No... planet... planet... the... planet..." It pointed toward the sky, turning its gaze toward where it was looking. However, it halted all movements, in what she could only assume to be stupefaction. "Moon... two... moons?" a trembling voice left it, unfitting the usual clamoring baritone it possessed.
Another fact became known to her, and it was that the thing—or rather, Kurosaki Ichigo—didn't seem to be familiar with its environment. That was sending alarm bells through her head, but she quickly shook it and watched it from the sidelines.
"What...? This... What is this... planet...?" It continued to stare at the sky, toward the two moons hanging above it. "What is this... planet... called...?"
"...Terra," she said. Did it come from another planet? The thought passed her, but then how could it be speaking in the same language as she did?
"Terra...? Not... Earth...?"
A period of silence overcame the both of them, as the waves continued to crawl upon the shores once more. It splashed the pale being in front of her, as its orange hair sprawled across the sands, staring motionlessly toward the skies. The pale moonlight from the twin celestial objects up above continued to shine down on it, glistening off of its bone-like skin.
She couldn't see anything on its face, nor could she make out any expression. But underneath, for some inexplicable reason, she could feel... sorrow.
***
Anita glanced at the wooden door.
The songstress had already left long ago, in search of a companion she couldn't provide much information about. It sort of disappointed the little girl, seeing the woman from the outside leave so suddenly and so quickly. There were a great deal of questions she wished to ask, and she had almost given chase to the woman in order to see it through... but Anita couldn't have brought herself to do so.
The aching and withered wood surrounding her continued to produce a putrid scent. They were graying away from the luscious brown color they once possessed, but she would have never known if that had actually been the case for them. If they had, then she was confident that it was during a time when she hadn't even been born yet. The villagers had always spoken of a Golden Age before. But now...? Not even a coherent sentence could be made from their now corrupted speech patterns.
So, she sat aimlessly on her chair, kicking her legs. That was until Anita was reminded that kicking her legs would waste energy by grandma Petra, so she stopped doing so right after, letting them fall down and hang from the butt of her seat. Her chin was propped on her palm, ones which possessed pale and seldom dirty skin. Oh... what else was there for her to do, other than to reminisce?
Her left hand moved toward the left side of her chest, letting her fingers feel the soft sensation of the red flower by it. Compared to everything else, it was so vibrant, so full of life, and it made her long for a sight that broke away from the usual monotony she saw... if there was any such place which existed. Her gaze soon lingered back toward the ceiling, closing her eyes, and letting the moment pass her over.
...
...That was until a knock was heard on the dingy house's wooden door, faint, and soft.
Anita's eyes darted open, suddenly wondering if the woman with the red dress had come back toward her abode. However, she quickly shot that feeling down. Chances were, one of the despondent residents of Sal Viento had wandered their way here, knocking aimlessly on any door they came upon. Although that was a possibility, the girl would always make sure to answer them in the place of grandma Petra.
"Coming," she said in a low mumble.
Anita exited her seat and felt her feet touching the ground once more, and made way to the door. She could feel her heart beating along with each step made, the insurmountable distance being made as her thoughts continued to wander off elsewhere. Her hands eventually wrapped around the knob of the door, and undid the lock. With a turn and a pull, she was...
"Huh...? Singer?" Anita blinked a few times, a strangely jovial feeling coming across her chest at the appearance of the white-haired woman, but it immediately died out when she saw what stood behind her. "T-that...!" She sprung backwards, nearly paralyzed at the demon she bore witness to. "W-what is t-that?!"
"...Something I found." The white-haired woman stepped to the side, warily glancing toward the horned monstrosity behind her.
"...My name... is... Ichigo..." It glanced back, narrowing its pupiless eyes and pointing to itself. "Not... some... thing..." Ichigo, as it was named, defensively shot back.
Anita could feel her body shaking, shifting her focus between the two, unable to make a response.