Ichigo had no idea how long they travelled through Las Noches, speeding through the halls. Barragan never said anything since the lab and Ichigo wondered if the old man died along the journey and his body was just being pulled along by his spirit that happened to stay behind for the ride.

He had no idea where Barragan was taking him. The desperation skewed his judgement and now he was questioning on whether he should be concerned or not. He opened his mouth, ready to complain when he felt the cold breeze on his skin, and the crushed stones under his feet digging into his skin. Hueco Mundo's night sky arched overhead. He hadn't even realized that they had left Las Noches. "I thought Aizen wouldn't allow us to leave," Ichigo mused. Aizen never clarified, but he seemed like the controlling type.

"I do not follow a Shinigami's orders," Barragan finally responded. They had stopped, hanging at least a fair distance away from Las Noches.

"Yeah, he's an asshole but I expected his Espada to be more loyal to him. Aren't you all supposed to be obedient to him?"

"Aizen is a Shinigami," was the matter-of-fact reply laced with bitterness. "He is not of Hueco Mundo, nor would he ever be. I am the King of Hollows; I have no reason to follow a man who stole my throne."

Ichigo's eyebrow arched. "You're the former king and you serve someone like that? Why?"

Barragan's eyes bore into him, analyzing every inch of him. Ichigo wanted to shrink under his gaze but stood his ground and glared back at him. "Why do you obey Aizen, godling?"

Godling. Nobody ever called him that. Nobody except people who were aware of the truth. Ichigo backed away, his hand reaching for Zangetsu. Could he kill Barragan and get away with it? He didn't know how high ranking he was, but he had to be at least top five Espada. But he was also one of Aizen's top soldiers and Aizen would probably kill him.

"I have no idea about what you're talking about," Ichigo answered slowly, hiding the shakiness the best he could. His heart pounded in his chest. His fingers clung onto the bandage-wrapped hilt like a lifeline.

"Don't act ignorant," Barragan rumbled. He strolled up to Ichigo, towering above him. "You look and feel like a god."

Ichigo scowled. "What's it to you?" The shorter Zangetsu slipped out from his side and directed at Barragan. He could fire a Getsuga Tensho from short range, that would give him enough time to either run or fight. "What do you want with me?"

Barragan made no movement. His eyes looked down at Ichigo―no, they weren't eyes, at least not anymore. They shifted into holes, oozing viscous darkness. A humanoid skull for face, horns protruding in a crown with maggots writhing among the rot. There was a cloak of violet miasma spreading like wings behind him but hardly in the image of an angel. His form was hazy, a mirage. And like a mirage, it faded in a blink of the eyes. The old man stood before him again.

"You're a god," Ichigo breathed out. He's never met any other gods outside of Hell, only heard about them.

"So are you," Barragan replied.

Ichigo crossed his arms. "I'm not a god."

Barragan looked like he would have rolled his eyes if he would ever show a real emotion. "Even so, you do have the presence of one. What is your Name?"

"Hell named me the Black Sun," Ichigo replied slowly and with the wariness one should have. His body was still tense. His Name was personal, a part of him and it thrummed in his soul and he hardly let anyone know it.

"Your fire," Barragan nodded. "I was curious about that. Were you also created by Hell?"

Ichigo scowled. "Nope. I was just tossed into Hell by a Shinigami. Hell Named me and I guess I got the fire power after that." He never really put too much thought into his power. It just felt his and that was all that really mattered. His soul burned with a Sun made of Black Flames, hot as the fires of Hell.

He squinted at Barragan. The Name was on the tip of his tongue, but the words were the hardest. How gods translated their Name into human words was dependent on how they really felt about it, distinguishing words from pure sensations that Names had. He had the faintest idea of Barragan's Name. He heard it in sounds of whispers, buzzing like locusts, wrapping around him like a cloak. Not in words, for gods could not speak in human tongues. The distinct sensation of rot and death oozed the air like the stench of a rotting corpse with a noble pressure to it.

"The Crown of Age," Barragan announced, as if sensing Ichigo's thoughts. "I am the Third Star of Hueco Mundo, the King of Hollows."

"Is Hueco Mundo like Hell?" Ichigo asked. The question had burned in his mind for a while, ever since he got here. Curiosity, Ichigo thought, was a bitch.

Barragan stared up into the sky. "She has always watched over us, She's our Matron as well as our kingdom."

Ichigo followed his gaze. He squinted into the abyss. Nothing but darkness pervaded the skies, devouring all the stars and leaving nothing but the moon.

Ichigo stared at the Moon and he blinked.

The Moon blinked back.

Static invaded his brain, creeping into every crevice with shrill screaming and chittering. It crawled in his mind, not the comforting projection that Hell had used. This was fierce, violent, and deadly. This was a wolf, a predator, looming over a rabbit. The vertigo made him feel like he was spinning around, and his hands flew to his mouth from the sheer weight of the presence. The Moon stared, ripping right into his soul. The Sky seemed to ripple like am ocean, or perhaps contract like a muscle, a body, an organism. It was as if the Sky went dark for a moment, the Moon disappearing behind something like an eyelid. That was her body, Ichigo realized. Her whole body is the Sky itself.

Hueco Mundo's presence left him, slinking out of his brain. Ichigo didn't realize that he was gasping for breath. "What the fuck was that?" Ichigo demanded. His brain still rang from the connection and his nerves felt absolutely numb.

"Hueco Mundo, the Beast with the Moon for an Eye, the Hunter of Souls, whatever you prefer to call her."

Hell never did anything like this—well, only once. Ichigo swallowed and he just noticed that he had collapsed onto his knees. He shakily stood up, his form was still trembling from the experience. Ichigo glanced up again. The Moon seemed normal, if a bit brighter. It looked normal to people who would never know. It would just have just a moon, not the eye of a monster whose very presence was infinite.

"So, what was the point of bringing me here to meet your god?" Ichigo interrogated.

"You seem to not know much about other gods," Barragan responded. "Your form is not controlled."

"Don't bullshit me," Ichigo snarled. "There's always an ulterior motive. What do you want with me?"

Barragan's eyes narrowed. Maybe he wasn't used to such rudeness from someone who looked like he would struggle reaching the top shelf of anything. "You are inexperienced in being a god. You lack any knowledge of what it means to be one. Do you know of how the gods became the way they are?"

Red-hot anger blazed underneath his skin, firing off like supernovas. "I'm fine as I am," Ichigo hissed out from gritted teeth. I'm not weak, was the voice of the nine-year old child, swaying from the heat, battered from his clashes from the Sinners. The scars on his body still burned, old wounds stung like a brand on his skin. Perhaps Barragan could sense the change in temperament but gave no visible response. "I don't need your help."

Ichigo spun on his heel and stalked off back to Las Noches.

Ichigo flashed forwards across the desert. Great, he can't stop getting chills up his spine just from looking at Hueco Mundo's Sky, knowing of what was above the sands. He threw a glance over his shoulder. The Moon still watched him from above. He muse seem like a threat to Hueco Mundo, a foreign god from another world. The sands themselves no longer felt like grains of mineral, but like the beaches in Hell on the shores of the lava oceans; beaches made of crushed bones, piled up with lost hopes and dreams and into a kingdom of Sinners.

Las Noches rose in the distance, as cold and pale as always. He was repulsed from the sight. Ichigo's feet slowed down into a walking pace. He didn't feel like hurrying. Aizen could kill him for his insolence and he probably wouldn't have cared so much.

Distantly, he could make out Hollows prowling the sands. Ichigo didn't doubt that they were dangeroud, no matter how much stronger he was than the ordinary Hollow. What was it like, to be a Hollow on the Hunt? Did they wander the dunes, fearing for lives or did they seek out others? Ichigo never really encountered many Hollows, all he knew came from Zangetsu. The Sinners, after all, were unknowing humans who lacked much knowledge of the world they lived in and were usually untrustworthy.

A rumble echoed in the distance, the ground shook from the force. Ichigo whipped towards where the sound was, his swords in his hands and raised t act. The ground ripped open, scattering sand as a colossal purple worm emerged from the earth.

"Wha the fu–"

Ichigo shrieked as he fell backwards from the force and the surprise and was extremely lucky he didn't accidentally impale himself on his own swords. A giant worm. He didn't bother moving from his position, staying limp as the words repeated through his head and he finally processed that word. A giant worm.

He wanted to go home.

"Hey mwister, are you alwight?" Large hazel eyes peered down. "Shouwd I dwool on him?"

He shot upward. "No thank you!"

There was a child in front of him, an arrancar from what he could tell, with her broken pale mask sitting above her teal hair. She had a scar running down her face, jagged like a blade. He squinted. Yep, he should have stayed in Hell.

"Nel, stay away from him! We don't know what he has!" A voice screeched. A purple hollow—an Arrancar picked up the tiny Arrancar by the back of the sack she wore and kicked up a spray of sand directly into his face.

Ichigo shrieked and his hands flew towards his eyes. His eyes burned as he frantically rubbed his eyes.

"See? He's probably rabid! Don't get close, he'll probably bite!"

Ichigo let out a string of violent and descriptive curses. He scrambled away, wringing the last of the sand out of his eyes. "What the hell was that for?"

The purple Arrancar had his hands pressed against both sides of the kid's head and stared at him in aghast. He didn't notice the other Hollow beside him, yellow and round with a mask decorated with red markings, black spots dotted the yellow. Ichigo snorted and climbed to his feet. His eyes still stung, but that would eventually wear off. He growled at the Arrancars like a wolf and nearly turned away to return to Las Noches when Nel practically leapt in front of him. "Are you a Howwow? You don't feew wike any Howwow I've seen!"

Ichigo huffed and crossed his arms. "I'm not exactly a traditional Hollow."

"Awe you an Awancaw?" Nel questioned, pointing at the larger Zangetsu strapped on his back.

"No."

"Awe you a Shinigami?" Nel asked, trembling as she scooted away from him.

"No!" Ichigo snarled. Perhaps his form glitched again, given their wide eyes. Ichigo sighed and composed himself, calming the Fire burning in his soul. "I am not a Shinigami and I will never be one." The word 'Shinigami' reopened those wounds that he though he has long since healed, the raw pain and agony that still pervaded his waking moments.

"Oh."

Ichigo grunted in response but carefully trained his eyes on her. There was no reason for her to talk with him, after all, Hollows kept to themselves, wary of outsiders. The desert was lawless with danger at every corner. She may have been a kid, but so was Ichigo when he had to learn to be just as dangerous to survive.

His hands trembled around Zangetsu's hilt and he didn't know why. Perhaps he feared the kid, yet he didn't know why. Maybe it was the reality he lived in, where no dreams existed, where danger was so permeated into his life that he feared a child who has not yet harmed him. But everyone will hurt him, one way or another, and he had to defend himself.

"What's youw name?" Nel asked. He twitched a little, it appeared as though she just wanted to learn everything about him.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," He responded, his mouth had moved automatically and Ichigo wanted to curse himself.

"So, strawberry," said the purple Arrancar, and Ichigo forgotten about him. He hovered around Nel, a fair distance for safety but close enough where he could scoop Nel up and run. Ichigo wouldn't have blamed him if he did. The Arrancar treaded a little closer, cautiously and with few steps. His hand grasped Ichigo's shoulders and he directed him away.

"Nel! Bawabawa looks like he wants to tag you!" Nel screamed with joy at Pesche's announcement as the purple worm enthusiastically slithered around, its tongue waggling around.

The purple Hollow pulled Ichigo over, his voice lowered to a whisper. "You're one of Aizen's, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. After all, Ichigo's white uniform practically blared that signal. Ichigo's limbs stiffened. He didn't know how many Hollows held a grudge against Aizen, or how they felt towards his soldiers. His mind ran with different options, whether he should leave or not, whether he should expect to fight his way out or not. He swallowed thickly and nodded his head. The Arrancar simply bowed his head, clearly expecting that answer.

"Please, you cannot be around Nel," the Arrancar pleaded. "She has amnesia, but she has bad memories of Aizen's armies. She can't remember, she can't be exposed back to the violence." Ichigo's gaze subconsciously directed towards Nel, who bounced around with the rest of the Hollows trailing behind her. Nel was a child, innocent and sinless. She wasn't a danger to him, but rather the other way around.

"Got it," Ichigo replied with no confrontation or conflict in mind. He turned one last look at the child and turned away, heading away from the Hollows and back into the endless desert.

Ichigo slipped in though one of the entrances, the white stone pillars serving as nothing more than a welcoming sign. The security was too lax; anyone could break into Aizen's fortress. He pressed down on his reiatsu (after all he did just sneak out) and stretched out his senses the best he could. Ichigo lacked that fine control but he had some skill. Aizen wasn't even in Las Noches, in fact none of the Shinigami traitors were there. It wasn't even just Las Noches, but their signatures seemingly vanished from Hueco Mundo all together.

Good. Ichigo didn't want to bother with that fucker. He paced around the halls. He was bored; the constricting walls nearly drove him mad. He could just try to get lost in the sprawling hallways or pick a fight with an Espada. He thought he was as strong as necessary in Hell but now he knew that he was weak compared to any other opponents. The memories of his fight with Grimmjow spawned some sort of rage in him. How arrogant was he, to think that he had achieved all the strength he could achieve at his current power? He hated being weak, the very thought of being helpless brought up bile in his throat. He could not be weak, not ever again.

His aimless wanderings finally landed him into an empty room, devoid of even furniture against the pale-yellow walls. At least Las Noches had some color to it, even though it still felt as lifeless as ever. Ichigo pulled out both Zangetsus. He hadn't had any time to do anything and he already felt restless, ready to blast away any emotions he had. He raised the largest blade, feeling the energy swirl in his sword and brought it down. The energy slash carved into the wall, scattering debris and rocks around. Already, he felt some of his frustration ebb away, maybe not completely but he felt slightly better as he let out a breath of air.

"You're the new guy, aren't you?" A yawn sounded behind Ichigo and he spun around, his hand already reaching towards Zangetsu. He groaned in frustration. It was just one of the Espada, and he was tired of being startled by someone who wouldn't even harm him. The Arrancar was human, his skin a mild tan with wavy brown hair reaching to the base of his neck, and blue-grey eyes. A jaw bone hung around his neck with a Hollow hole just beneath.

"Who the hell are you?" Ichigo demanded, allowing his hands to fall to his side but close enough to the small Zangetsu.

"Coyote Starrk."

"Your rank."

"Primera."

Ichigo sucked in a breath. He already struggled with Grimmjow and he didn't want to fight one of the strongest if he could avoid it, although his instincts burned with the desire for someone to push his limits once again, but his survival instincts disagreed. Zangetsu scoffed in his mind. "Pussy." Ichigo repressed the urge to roll his eyes in front of someone who did not know he was communicating to someone else.

"So, what does the Primera have to do with me?" Ichigo inquired, his voice having the slightest edge of sarcasm. Starrk seemed to brush that off and yawned again, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, for one thing you're making a ruckus. Some of us are just trying to take a good nap."

Ichigo scowled but slid Zangetsu back into their sheaths. He hardly liked being told what to do but the Primera seemed like one of the strongest of the bunch, and Ichigo didn't feel like angering him. "Okay." He had already started turning away to find somewhere else he could destroy until Starrk spoke up again.

"Hey, I kinda wanted to talk to you for a bit."

His feet spun around to face Starrk. "What is it?" He responded curtly.

"I was just wondering where Aizen found you," Starrk said with an absent-minded air to him. Ichigo frowned.

"It's nonya."

"What―"

"Nonya business," Ichigo bit back. Irritation laced in his voice and Starrk seemed to back off, if only a little. He involuntarily bridled at the insistent prodding.

"I was just wondering," Starrk simply replied, his hands raised in a weak surrender. "You seem lonely."

Ichigo nearly leapt at Starrk. He didn't even need Zangetsu, his fingers ached to just tear into Starrk. The only present form of his rage was the way he tensed, the way his eyes hardened and how he bristled. "What did you just say?"

Much to everyone's wonder, Starrk kept talking. "You have my eyes from long ago, it's like you haven't actually talked to someone."

"Well, you're wrong!" Ichigo snarled. He had Zangetsu and Hell, he needed no one else. The bastard knew nothing about him! Since when did he think he could say that? "I'm not lonely!"

He could not be lonely, he had Zangetsu and Hell. But his thoughts faltered slightly. It was a forced realization. He only had Zangetsu and Hell, and he had left Hell. He could never talk to the Sinners, especially after last time, and it wasn't like they were for good conversation. Hatred burned in him, but he could not distinguish where it was aimed.

Although, he definitely hated the Arrancar standing in front of him. He clenched his fists, itching to tear into something. Perhaps Starrk was aware of the growing murderous intent encompassing Ichigo, blue and red sparks flying from his body as his thin control over his reiatsu began to waver.

"What the fuck do you know?" Ichigo continued, his words began speeding up and grew louder. "What right do you have to accuse me of being lonely? You're sorely mistaken, and you've always been." The edge of his head ached, the spot where his horn often grew from. Zangetsu's smile grew on his face, a crescent moon of white teeth as silver as the moon. God, he wanted to mutilate this fucker, grab his head and beat it against the side of the wall―

"Ichigo."

The calming voice of the Old Man brought him back to reality, as he always did. He always calmed down Ichigo's violent temperament. Zangetsu had slithered back, his murderous rage leaving him, and all that was left was cold, empty exhaustion. Ichigo took a long breath and exhaled, his eyes closed and reopened alongside his breathing. He didn't notice how tightly he gripped Zangetsu, which had spontaneously been pulled out much to his confusion, so tightly that his palms were soaked with sweat. Carefully, he slid Zangetsu back. He didn't need it to fuel his anger, bringing up the violence that only really assisted him in Hell. He took one last stuttering breath and let himself cool.

"You're just a child," Starrk muttered. Ichigo wanted to laugh. He hasn't been a child for years. That child died when he fell into Hell, forged and tempered with violence until he was unrecognizable. He hasn't been a child in ages; he had been a survivor.

"Whatever," Ichigo responded lowly, pushing back an unresponsive Starrk and stormed off into the next corridor, hoping to lose himself back into the maze. As long as it was away from this place, away from him.

Ichigo took to glowering at everyone who gave him the odd glance. It made his skin crawl and hatred boiled in him. He was a freak, and he already knew that. He was an abomination, and he already knew that. The Shinigami already told him so.

The sudden onslaught of negative thoughts was expected. He often drowned in them when he first was cast down to Hell, after all it was no environment for a child.

His feet moved without his command as he drowned in his thoughts. All he really wanted to do was leave, anywhere but here. The walls felt too constricting and Ichigo wasn't used to this, he wasn't used to being too stationary, too permanent. Too many enemies lurked around at the corners and Ichigo grew wary of his stay. He didn't want to stay here.

Marble ground no longer pressed against his feet but sand and Ichigo looked up at the Eye of Hueco Mundo, as watchful and constant as the stars. A lone tree protruded several meters away from him and Ichigo gravitated towards it. He's used to resting in odd places, whether it be a cave, a spire of rock, or on the sooty grounds of the last level of Hell. His fingers hardened with Hierro and he dug them into the quartz bark. He wasn't too high off the ground, and he could see Las Noches in the distance.

He swung his leg over the strongest branch and slid on top. His knees were pulled to his chest and he leaned his back against the trunk. It was silent with the occasional Hollow howl in the distance, the desert as empty as the Hollows themselves. It was silent and lonely with nothing but the wind and the moon to comfort him. He stared at the Sky, black as ever with the Moon hanging overhead. He did wonder about the gods, no matter what he claimed. Hell ―or Bane of Sinners, hardly explained anything, merely watched him and gave him his Name. It marked him, a godling who navigated the world with the smallest grasp on their powers like a newborn trying to crawl. He hadn't had the faintest idea of anything, really.

His thoughts drifted to that Arrancar and his blood boiled. Starrk knew nothing about Ichigo, not who he was and which dump Aizen pulled him out from. His foot hit against the trunk with a loud thump-thump, growing louder as his internal rant went on. But, the darker part of his mind whispered, Starrk wasn't wrong.

Zangetsu's presence curled in the back of his mind, harsh and grating as a Hollow couldn't exactly serve as the best comfort, but Ichigo leaned into that sensation. He felt the tug as his spirits pulled him into his Inner World, his Dream. Skyscrapers towered into the skies, reaching beyond mortal comprehension and the skies darkened with a Black Sun hovering above. It wasn't just the Sun that darkened the sky, but the rain that fell, showering cold droplets onto his face. His world was sideways, confusing him once but he had grown accustomed to the position. He let himself stare into the Sun, after all, the Sun could never hope to harm him. Old Man Zangetsu hung behind him and beside him Zangetsu. They contrasted each other, blacks and whites that opposed each other, but nonetheless were close.

"Hey, King," Zangetsu's smile was as maniac as ever, stretched abnormally wide but that had long since stopped scaring him. He's seen worse monsters, and this monster was just as part of him as a shadow, always trailing behind him.

A wry smile formed on Ichigo's lips. Zangetsu had insisted in calling him by that nickname, ignoring Ichigo's protests until he begrudgingly accepted it. Then, Zangetsu whipped around to face Old Man Zangetsu and stomped right up to him. "Why the hell did you stop us?" Zangetsu demanded. He was fire and fury, like Ichigo, but with a more dangerous edge. Ichigo may have been Hellfire, but only as the purifying flames that burned sin. Zangetsu was the violence that came with fire, the ones that sparked and tortured, choking out the last bits of life out of its victims.

The Old Man stared impassively at Zangetsu, his expression had not changed from the constant outbursts he suffered. "You were going to make Ichigo do something he would regret."

"Regret? Ha, you certainly didn't stop him from killing, never protected him! I did! I made sure that no one can hurt us again! I made sure it didn't rain and now look at it!" He brandished his hands to the view of the clouds, the dark skies, and the waters that poured into a flood.

"Would killing someone make things better? Would that guilt make Ichigo feel better?" the Old Man questioned.

"Yes!" Zangetsu snapped back. "He would get over his guilt like he always does!"

Ichigo groaned and tiredly spoke up. "Can you guys not fight?"

Zangetsu shot the Old Man one last glare and sniffed as he turned away. "If I had my way, no one would hurt us."

"And would you rather kill everyone then?" the Old Man asked. "We would be left alone, with no one else."

"Oh, so you're agreeing with Starrk, you fucking traitor," Zangetsu spat. He reached for his white copy of Zangetsu, the large one. Ichigo rushed in front of Zangetsu, waving his hands frantically.

"Can you guys please not fight?"

Zangetsu 'tched' and gave the Old Man the evil eye, clearly giving him the silent treatment. He crossed his arms and stood planted into the ground. Zangetsu would sit and wallow in his anger for hours, maybe even days if he was pissed enough. Ichigo honestly placed bets on six hours until Zangetsu's anger cooled.

A yawn erupted from Ichigo as he stood there. When was the last time he rested? He barely had time in between fighting Aizen, Grimmjow, and meeting Hueco Mundo.

He didn't even realize he was falling until he felt arms wrap around him in support. He didn't even realize who it was but leaned into the warmth that he was deprived of. "Ichigo, go to sleep," the Old Man ordered, firmly but not exactly strictly. "We'll protect you."

But he didn't need protection; he was grown and experienced and independent enough. He wasn't some child that needed someone to comfort him. And yet, Old Man Zangetsu felt so warm that his eyes began to flutter shut as he tried to hang onto the consciousness the best he could. He fought that urge the best he could, wriggling around sluggishly before drifting off.

Hell seemed calm today. The static lightened, no longer pressing against his skull, demanding to be let in so they could Speak to him. He was nine, at least that's what he thought. He learned that time was unreliable as there was no sun, no moon, and no indication of the sky. He had grown used to Hell, basking in its presence. It was as if Hell didn't need a real sun, for they were the light.

A noise, a rattle of chains sounded close. Ichigo turned around and there was a man, a Sinner dressed in white with a black scarf around his head with silver hair poking from underneath. "Who are you?" Ichigo demanded. His voice lacked any hard quality to it. His swords were at his side and he backed away from the strange man like an animal.

"What's a little guy like you doing in Hell?" The figure questioned. Ichigo scowled, out of place on someone so young and looked childish on him.

"I don't know, what are you doing in Hell? Ichigo answered back. "You're a Sinner, and the Old Man told me that people like you are bad guys."

"Well, what's the problem with a little talk?" He sat next to Ichigo, who unconsciously scooted away. He frowned as he stared at the Sinner.

"The Old Man and my Mom said I shouldn't talk to strangers," Ichigo replied. "And Zangetsu doesn't like you." He shuddered at the horrible, violent things Zangetsu wanted to do. It was a constant whisper that pervaded his mind. His tiny hands trembled at the vey thought of committing such acts.

"My name is Kokuto," the Stranger pointed to himself, and then to him. "It's not a big deal, you can give me your name. You can even tag along with me."

Ichigo's voice caught in his throat, the rational side of him urged him not to give his name out. But this is an adult, his mind also reasoned. Maybe he can help him.

"My name is Ichigo."

Then everything swirled, turning and turning, spinning in circles. Ichigo now stood at the top of a plateau, blood dripped from his chest. There was a sword in his chest, the nine-year-old realized in a panic. His eyes streamed with tears and he coughed, sputtered more red droplets.

Kokuto stood a bit farther behind him. "Sorry kid," he announced, not sounding completely sincere at all. "But I need you to open up the Gate."

Ichigo was on his knees sobbing. He was a big boy, wasn't he? Why was he crying? His Mom wasn't here to kiss him until he was better. His Dad wasn't here to play jokes and make him laugh in spite of his tears. His sisters weren't here to hug him, wailing with him.

He was alone. He had nobody.

And Ichigo screamed, a howl of despair and anger. He levelled a glare burning with rage that rivalled the sun at Kokuto, that bastard. The howl morphed, transforming into something primal and his heart, his shattered and broken heart grew spiderwebs of cracks in it and slowly cracked apart. The red blood pooling from his mouth became saturated with white ooze that began to stretch over his face. He hated Kokuto, he hated that Shinigami, the Monster, the King.

With one last broken scream to the heavens, the white fluid enveloped Ichigo's face, blinding him from the soon-to-be corpse. His mouth twisted into a mockery of a grin with his teeth bared like an animal, the violence a little boy shouldn't have. For the first time he wanted to kill.

And he did.

He shredded Kokuto apart, letting his viscera lay in a mess at his feet. His hands were bloody, red and staining his now pale hands. A short distance away, a broken black sword was embedded into the ground, the blade sliced in a half. A broken body with wide open eyes with blood dripping from his lips and burns scattered across the body. The nine-year-old stared into the destruction with an empty look into his eyes, a shattered expression befitting that of the corpse at his feet. Black Fire raced through his veins and the Name granted chanted in his mind, the purr of Hell and Zangetsu in his mind, content with the blood spilled. You're safe now. The danger is gone.

Black Sun, destroy your enemies. Rend the Heavens asunder and scatter it into ash. Black Fire coiled around him, bringing no soft warmth but burning hatred, but to whom it was directed to, he couldn't tell.

His hands were red and stained on white with sin, the Black Fires still continued to burn, scorching his arms.

Ichigo shot up, his limbs tangled in the commotion and he nearly slipped off the tree. There were tears in his eyes and he blinked them away, furiously wiping at his eyes. Stupid, why does he cry. It was stupid, everything was stupid. There was no point in crying. He hasn't cried in years.

"A nightmare?" A voice asked and Ichigo whirled around. His eyes were red, and his emotions ran high as his sword in his hands. He recognized that voice, that shitty voice.

"What the hell are you doing here, Aizen?" Ichigo demanded.

A smile (false, like him) made its way on his face. "Can I not be concerned about a subordinate?"

Ichigo let out a bark of laughter, a harsh and cold sound. "As if! You're here to check on me so I don't run away!"

"My subordinate had a nightmare, am I not allowed to be concerned?" Aizen questioned. "You didn't even stay in your room." It was those damned words, the ones that contorted his thoughts. Ichigo scowled but didn't say anything. He didn't even know he had his own room.

Aizen sighed. "You must not trust me, but I understand."

Ichigo bit back the 'like hell you do'.

"It is the loneliness, is it not?" Aizen looked convincingly sympathetic, so real that Ichigo almost believed him. "The loneliness that gnaws at your soul and consumes you. No one can stand at your level, nor can anyone be trusted. A lonely existence with no close friends, for they envy you, and you lack a family who once loved you.

"After all, Hell is no place for a child." He almost looked pitying. "And you were taken from your family, cast off into a place where all kinds of monsters roamed. How heartless, but that is the way of the Shinigami and the Soul King."

Oh, Ichigo knew that. That familiar, burning Black Fire yearned to destroy the King, and reduce him to ash.

"And that is what I aim to do," Aizen announced. "I will kill the Soul King and I will shake Soul Society to its core and change it, so no child will suffer again in the name of 'justice.'"

Ichigo stared at his hands. They no longer trembled like a leaf, but scars ran through them from old battles. Even if not visible, his hands were red and soiled. The Soul King did this. The Soul King and the Shinigami did this to him.

"The Soul King brought suffering," Aizen said. "I've seen the effects, how it's ripped away lives. Soul Society has hurt many, all under the guise of justice."

"The Soul King stole my life from me," Ichigo finally responded. He had no idea why, but he felt compelled to say something. "I'm dead to my family and I lost the chance to be a child for a long time. The Soul King put me in Hell, with Sinners who would backstab you at any given time, where violence is so prevalent that there are sometimes seas of blood. I want that bastard dead."

Aizen nodded and smiled like he understood. "Then I, we, shall make sure the Soul King dies. You should come back to Las Noches, it is too cold out here." There was a gray cloak draped across his shoulders. Was he shivering? It was cold. He turned to say something but Aizen disappeared in a flash, a wisp of movement.

Ichigo stared at the place where Aizen stood. Maybe he was wrong about Aizen. After all, he seemed genuine in his hatred for the Soul King and he understood. He sat there, swinging his feet absentmindedly, tugging the cloak over himself. He slid down the tree and stared at this distant form of Las Noches. It was time to head back, after all.

ichigo: no one needs to know my tragic backstory
ichigo, like 10 minutes later: so it all started when i was seven-

god ive been wanting to reveal hueco mundo, and i had so much fun with god lore cause i have never shut up disease and i really enjoy trying to world build!

thanks for reviewing uwu!