Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or Star Wars, they belong to their respective creators and/or copyright owners. I make no money from this story. It is not for sale or rent.

Prologue

Part I: I Dream

Ichigo's Room

Kurosaki Residence

Karakura town

It was sometime well after midnight, when Ichigo was startled awake by a barely remembered dream.

Again.

Ever since his mother was murdered in front of his eyes, he had experienced those dreams. At first they were long and far between, impressions really instead of anything coherent.

However as time passed, his dreams became more tangible, akin to a half-forgotten memory.

That only made it all weird. Ichigo dreamed of the stars, of strange fascinating worlds, which no human from Earth had ever seen. While slumbering he saw strange people, some humanoid, others so different that his young mind simply lacked the words to correctly describe them.

As he grew up, the dreams slowly changed. Often he found his heart longing for places he had never visited. For people who were nothing more than blurred figments of his imagination, yet he felt he knew, even if Ichigo could never place a name to their faces before the dream slipped from his memory as he awoke in the middle of the night.

Soon after he started high school, there was another change. While he still couldn't clearly remember anything in the morning, the dreams themselves had become even more tangible, more real. They started feeling like a memories, instead of whatever on overly active imagination could came with.

There was another change.

He started dreaming of war.

More often than not, Ichigo would see himself wielding a silver blade made of pure energy while fighting armored foes. Other times he was sparring with robed figures armed just like him, though the color of their weapons differed, being mostly azure or forest green.

He saw himself piloting strange craft, which would have made the best that either the Americans or the JSDF could boast like children's toys.

Ichigo saw steel leviathans dueling in the void between the stars, whole worlds laid to waste.

Yet, once he was properly awaken, all of it persistently slipped through his fingers once he tried to remember.

Every damned time.

Nevertheless, that night was different.

Ichigo dreamed of a raven haired beauty, who made his heart clench into a fist. He couldn't help it as his eyes drank the sight of her slender figure. Gentle wind was ruffing her short cropped hair, while carrying the delightful chimes of her laughter that made him melt inside. She turned around, finally ready to reveal her face, when the dream shattered like a mirror struck by sledgehammer and Ichigo found himself rudely thrown back into his room.

He blinked in confusion as the dream's contents were swept from his conscious mind, letting him with heartache and even more questions.

Then his night got ever stranger as a short girl wearing midnight black kimono simply phased through the window of his room.

For a split second Ichigo stared at the intruder as the last vestiges of his dream were leaving, wondering why this person reminded him of the woman he had just imagined.

Then his mind registered the fact that he had a stranger in his bedroom. One that had a sheathed sword on her waist too.

Ichigo scowled. This had to be one of the strangest burglars ever.

=KoSS=

Part 2: Awakening

Urahara's shop training area

A young teen was on the bottom of a deep, circular hole, his body rocked by convulsions. His pained screams were echoing around the training area in which his ordeal was taking place. It started as a gentle touch by incorporeal being, who existed in a realm beyond the perception of mortal and Shinigami.

"How curious, that he would end here of all places." The intangible, slightly glowing figure of an old black man leaned over the apparently insensate form of one Ichigo Kurosaki.

"He's not the only one. At least we finally found them. I was starting to lose hope." Another ghost spoke. This time it was a regal looking woman, who appeared to be only slightly younger than her bald companion. Her graying, almost silver hair was gently slaying under non-existent wind.

"Youngsters these days." The former Gray Jedi shook his head in amusement.

"Given our age, you can hardly call me youngster, you ancient scoundrel."

"Meh. You were how old when we first met? Eighteen, perhaps twenty at best?" The man smirked.

"You never change, do you?"

"I'm too old for that, dear."

"Enough. I won't let him down again. I won fail him a second time." The woman's teasing tone suddenly changed to one full of steel.

"Me neither. I simply wonder what the consequences would be."

"I trust him. Whatever comes to be from our actions today, I'm sure that he'll be able to deal with it."

"Will he? She was the one thing keeping him sane most of the time and she's been gone as long as him."

"That's not an issue. I have a feeling that sooner or later they would reunite."

"You, the former proper Jedi, turned into a hopeless romantic. Heh. If someone could pull it, it would be the kid. Let's do it."

An intangible hand brushed the soul chain of one Ichigo Kurosaki. One endless moment, which looked like it was forever frozen between the present and the future. For those who could perceive it, the multiverse stopped to take in a deep breath. Then a tiny segment of it shifted, shattered and was made anew, while the Soul who today called itself Ichigo Kurosaki went through the same process. As if it wasn't enough, a new elements arose within the multiple natures of his being. The balance of that soul was irrevocably shifted as it regained some of a previous incarnation. For the barest instant, Ichigo became a focal point for energies, which no mortal should have survived as multiple universes and dimensions were shifting into new paths. His very soul was torn to shreds and built anew, similar yet different.

"Well, that was quite bit harder than I thought." The bald man chuckled tiredly.

"It's done. He'll remember. He'll be whole again."

"What did you two imbeciles just do?!" A new voice sounded over the prone form of Ichigo Kurosaki.

The two ghost whirled around and blanched at the sight of a tiny green figure leaning on a crooked cane. It's long ears flapped in irritation as it glared at them.

"We kept a promise."

"No matter the price?" The green man asked in a voice fueled by disapproval.

"No. It was the right thing to do."

"Was it really, I wonder? Matters not. You two, come with me you shall."

The small being waved his a hand and the trio of Force Ghosts vanished without a trace.

In that same moment, the endless instant passed and time resumed its normal course. Kurosaki's soul chain, which was deteriorating way too fast, faded. Its last link became dust.

The universe changed, though Ichigo did not notice. He was simply relieved. The pain, the agony which should have shattered his conscious mind and paved the way for his transformation into a Hollow was no more and that was all he cared about.

After a brief reprieve of blessed oblivion, Ichigo awoke. Instead being into the accursed hole, he found himself laying on a cold metal floor.

'What's the number of the train that ran me over?' Kurosaki wondered. He stretched slowly and looked around, while still laying on the ground.

The sight left his jaw hanging open. Kurosaki, the substitute soul reaper of Karakura town, was in an empty cavernous room. On his left the expanse was shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to judge how big it truly was. To his right however, he saw an awe-inspiring sight. The room on that side ended with enormous window, showing a beautiful blue sphere, sprinkled with green and covered with patches of white clouds.

Ichigo was looking at Earth from orbit. Just as I've looked at hundreds of worlds. That thought came unbidden, making him frown.

This was no window he was looking through, merely an atmospheric shield of either a hangar or a cargo bay.

His frown deepened. How did he know this? Besides it was impossible right?

"Took you long enough." A pleasant female voice startled Ichigo, who jumped and turned around, ready for a confrontation. Behind him was a middle-aged woman. She was clad in a familiar looking midnight black armor, though right then and there Ichigo couldn't recall where did he saw such a design. The stranger was almost two meters tall, with shoulder length black hair, which was framing a heart shaped face. Her piercing gray eyes were boring straight at the young Shinigami's soul.

"We finally meet my friend", The tall Amazon smiled.

"Who are you? What is this place?" Ichigo asked once he was over the shock finding himself in this strange place.

"An old and dear friend" Was the only answer she offered. " As to where we are, it should be obvious. We are in your inner domain, your mindscape. I am ! #$% #!$%%..."

Ichigo's frown deepened even further, when he couldn't make any sense from her last words. Here name, his brain simply refused to comprehend it.

"Ahh, never mind. It was expected. We need to have a little chat, young man." The tall woman waved her right hand and they were standing in a balcony over-looking a vast park.

"What the hell?!" Ichigo scowled at the stranger. The woman in black waved him to a nearby comfortably looking armchair which wasn't there only a moment ago. Yet there it was, situated on the other side of a table made of bland metal, with two steaming cups of tea on it.

"Sit and calm down. This conversation is long overdue. You may as well make yourself comfortable."

Ichigo huffed, but sat in the armchair throwing a glare at his host.

"Hmm, some things never change." The woman looked over the trees and inhaled the scent of fresh rain and greenery coming from the park, which was mixing with the gentle aroma of the tea. "Tell me Ichigo, what do you know about the soul cutters which Shinigami use? What are they?"

The young reaper looked a bit confused at the question. The Zanpakuto were tools, right? "Weapons which purify Hollows and can perform Konso in order to send spirits to Soul Society" He answered without thinking.

"Think!" The woman snapped at him, relaying a lot of disappointment at his answer.

So he did as instructed.

For a moment, Ichigo was back on a rain-soaked street, facing a sneering tattooed Shinigami. "You don't even know the name of your Zanpakuto!" Sneered the spiky haired Death God in front of him.

A heartbeat later, he was back sitting in the armchair.

'One of the men who took Rukia had named his Zanpakuto...' Sudden thought struck the substitute Shinigami and comprehension dawned. "You are my Zanpakuto!" Ichigo said in wonder.

"Good! I almost thought that you really have become just a loud violent idiot!" The woman in black remarked.

Ichigo scowled again ready for angry retort, but before he was able to say a word, his Zanpakuto was in front of him and placing a hand on his forehead. "Its time to remember who you are..." She paused as if struggling with his name, "Ichigo." The words were said in a sad tone.

Flashes of light and darkness. Shattered pieces of memories long forgotten. Fragments of personality, shards of a broken man. Who was Ichigo Kurosaki?

A son? A proud brother? A friend... A high school student, a substitute Shinigami…

Protector.

All those things and many more were just facets of his being. In hindsight it was obvious. He is the same man. Always the same at the core. Protector to those precious to him. A monster to those who would harm them.

A knight in shining armor and a villain shrouded by darkness. For him those were the two sides of the same coin. It was a simple explanation, and yet lacking so much context and substance.

He was incomplete, in many ways. There were shards of his very being absent, the lack of one of which eclipsed the rest. A large piece of his heart was simply gone, leaving behind a jagged, bleeding hole. It wasn't a physical wound that caused it or his near transformation into a Hollow. No. It was something else. Someone else. More important than his friends as valued as his little sisters.

Someone who he failed, the same way he failed his mother. His mind ground to a halt at that thought. His mother.

Ichigo grit his teeth.

There always was a part of him that knew that he should have been able to save his mother all those years ago. That even as a little kid, he had the power to protect her. That was the same part of his mind that knew, he had the power to save Rukia. It was where the odd dreams were coming from.

The worst thing was that this feeling wasn't mere dream or delusion. That power has always been part of him, even if until now it had been slumbering just beyond his reach. What mattered was that when he needed it the most, he was unable to use it. Even now, when he was finally face to face with his Zanpakuto, that familiar power was still out of reach taunting him.

It was no mere frustration he felt at that moment. It was maddening, enraging. He should have been able to protect them, both his mother all those years ago and Rukia when those two Shinigami came for her.

Protecting those precious to him, that was his purpose, right? Did he fail!?

Kurosaki's thoughts were interrupted by the now comfortingly familiar voice of the woman.

"Ichigo, I can't bring back all your memories. While I'm a part of you and have seen some of them, they aren't mine to meddle with. Despite that, I might be able to give you a push in the right direction, if you allow me."

"Memories? What are you talking about?" He narrowed his eyes at the spirit.

"What did you think that those dreams were?! Seriously?!" She looked at him in exasperation. "You don't even remember her. Not really. Our heart's desire..." The Zanpakuto trailed off and glared at him in an unsettling way.

"Remember who? The raven haired woman?" He blurred without thinking.

"Yes, her. Who is Rukia to you? A fellow Shinigami? A friend? Or did you actually glimpsed a part who she truly was? What is she to you?" The last sentence was delivered in a different tone. It was quieter, wishful, almost longing.

Ichigo simply stared at his Zanpakuto in confusion. Then a memory of a different life struck.

=KoSS=

Flashback

Time: Unknown

Place: Unknown

He was kneeling on torn, muddy ground. All around him was a field littered with broken bodies and burning vehicles. Acrid black smoke was searing his lungs, causing sporadic coughing fits. High above, twin suns barely broke a low cloud cover, bathing the graveyard of men and machines into hazy twilight.

Countless thousands died for this patch of land. And for what?!

It was a hollow victory at best, one tasting of ash and pain. It was all for nothing. The woman he loved, his reason to fight, was gone.

Dead as the two armies surrounding him.

One moment she was there, proud and magnificent, leading a platoon of troopers in an attack that was turning around this part of the battle. A flash of artillery followed and not even ashes remained, just a patch of scorched and half glassed dirt.

It was unthinkable. There was no warning from the Force. No sense of overt danger besides the enemy soldiers and droids with which they were engaged.

The void where their connection used to be just moments ago was everything he could think about. Their bond was forcefully shattered, the loss driving him into an unmatched fury and deep within the seducing corruption of the Dark Side, which promised an end of the unbearable pain.

Just like that his world crumbled with the death of his beloved life. There were no words to describe his anguish and hear-rendering agony. Only terrible hows of rage.

So he let himself sink deep into the Dark Side. He became a berserker fueled by her corrupting energies and unleashed his wrath upon the enemy, throwing himself at them until there was no one left to fight.

That was hours ago. Now he simply stood there, next to the corpse of the last Imperial soldier on the battlefield. As he knelt there, dying, he was once more Darth Revan, a name which he had shelved more than a decade ago. In a moment of clarity, he found himself thinking about the past. About the Jedi Knight he used to be once upon a time.

He was hailed as a hero then, when he was busy stopping the Mandalorian war machine from conquering the Republic. Soon enough everything changed and he was hailed as one of the greatest traitors in the history of the Jedi Order while he wore the mantle of the Dark Lord of the Sith.

It was his wife who found him and saved him from the sweet seduction of the Dark side. A wife who was killed just like that by a stray artillery barrage.

Force Adepts weren't supposed to die like that!

The fury drained from his still form. He could feel it, the cold embrace of death was slowly tightening her grip around him.

It was his end. He was hollow inside and somehow he knew, that he wasn't going to be part of the Force once he passed on. There was something darker awaiting him. He could sense its approach.

Somewhere on the edges of his perception, strange forces were whispering. There were grotesque forms moving just beyond the corner of his eyes.

He was startled by a revelation, whatever those thing were, they were dead to the Force. He could barely make their outlines by the void in the energy field that the Force was. His mind was racing. In his last moments, Revan believed that those things somehow blunted the precognitive abilities granted by the Force, making this tragedy possible. Swaying in delirium he sensed his heart stopping.

He looked at his chest and frowned as he saw a crumbling chain attached over his breastbone. It suddenly faded, ripped a hole where his heart used to be.

Darkness enveloped him and Revan knew no more.

Flashback End

=KoSS=

Ichigo Kurosaki, once upon a time one of the most powerful force users to ever live, looked at his Zanpakuto, his partner with a sour expression.

"What was that?" He asked quietly. That vision jolted his memories all right. He could remember bits and pieces, which really didn't make much of a sense. He could still feel the void where the man from the vision had a bond with his wife.

"All I could show you. The end of the line." The woman spoke softly.

"Who was Revan?"

"Who is Revan?" She asked with a question. "You just need to look into the mirror.

"Those weren't really dreams, were they? My memory gone for a second time..." Ichigo muttered. Where did that thought come from anyway?! "What does this mean anyway?" He wondered aloud. "Who was this woman? Why I feel her loss..." He trailed off, his mind finally connecting the dots.

"You just regained a piece of your past, no mater how painful it was."

"Darth Revan, the Dark Lord of the kriffing Sith." Ichigo muttered.

"That was your title once." His Zanpakuto nodded. A fond smile stretched her full lips.

"I'm not that man!" Ichigo shook his head in denial.

"Perhaps. You used to be him."

"I don't have time for this!" He snapped in frustration. "I still need to grow stronger, so I can save Rukia!"

"I'll help you in that. Gladly. You're strong my Master, stronger than you could imagine. You just need to remember, to reconnect with the source of your power."

"You say it as if it's easy." Ichigo gave her his patented scowl.

"For a violent, often not too bright teenager, that might have been correct. You're so much more, my wielder." The Zanpakuto grinned. "You've done much harder things anyway."

"Revan had done them, not me!"

"Consider it a challenge then. I'm sure you'll do everything in your power to save her and then some."