cw: see end of chapter, because they contain spoilers

"Nope." I pivoted on one foot, and stepped towards the door. "Not today." Not any day if I had any choice in the matter. For fuck's sake, couldn't I get a day to rest in peace?

"Excuse me?" Wood scraped against wood. I ignored Rukia's creepy bishoujo voice, turning my shoes back around with my foot and stepping into the first.

A twisted voice, echoing on itself, like a horde of wailing, roaring ghosts, crying for blood: "Kill you kill you kill you kill youu—"

I shook my head. God, why couldn't it have stayed a dream? Why couldn't it have been just a half-forgotten nightmare?

"Ichigo!" Dad blocked my way, aghast. "You can't leave! You've got a pretty girl waiting for you right there!"

My face twisted into a grimace. "Seriously, Dad?" He balked, faced with my darkest scowl. That moment of hesitation cost me.

I should have just run when I had the chance.

"Ku-ro-sa-ki-san." Someone tapped me on the back. I swiped my hand over my face, swore under my breath, and whirled to face her.

"I told you—!"

Pain. I gasped, but- no air. I doubled over, slumping into Rukia's conveniently placed shoulder. I couldn't do anything other than focus on my next breath, and my next. Her strike had been swift and precise. A part of me separate from my body's desperate heaving could even admire her for it. Little bitch hit like a truck, with all the force centered in one tiny fist. Ow.

"Oh no!" she babbled, dragging my weak-kneed ass to the stairs. "Kurosaki-san must be really tired! I'll bring him up to his room, don't worry!"

I couldn't even protest. I was too busy wheezing. Dad and Yuzu just stared as we passed by, the cowards. I heard Karin say, "What the hell?" from somewhere out of sight. I had enough control over myself to stagger up the stairs instead of banging my knees all the way up. And as Rukia finally kicked open my door and threw me inside, I swear I heard Dad say, "A strong-willed woman would make your brother a good wife!"

…I'm gonna kill him.

I slammed into my bed, and crumpled with a choked-back whimper. How could someone almost half my size be this strong? "Ow," I croaked.

"Where have you been?" Rukia demanded. I mustered the energy to face her, leaning back against my bed. Hands on her hips, feet planted evenly on my floor, she glared at me. "I went through the trouble of getting a gigai and enrolling in your school, only to find out you weren't even there!"

"Where have I- I should be asking you that! What the hell are you doing here?" I spat out, between gasps for breath. My metal bed frame hurt.

"I came to pick you up, of course!" She crossed her arms, scowling. "You're going to be my substitute now, and we don't have time to waste."

My stomach dropped to the floor. And I remembered.

There had been no time for second guessing. Mad with pain, the Hollow had risen as tall as it could go. The line Rukia scored down its face bled profusely, making it look like it wept tears of blood. Rukia's explanation flew over my head as I stood, frozen in the moment that would define my new life.

So many ifs. So many I coulds. But the one time I had failed to take action, someone had died.

That was the reason I grabbed the hand that pointed a sword at my chest and pulled.

I ran a hand over my face. After the mess of last night and this morning, small wonder I forgot.

"Right," I said, trying to buy some time. "And what does being a substitute Shinigami mean exactly?"

Rukia smirked, and pulled on a familiar red glove. "Let me show you." She reared back. My eyes widened.

"Wait-!"

Her hand slapped my forehead. I felt it make contact, then push further. it was like getting ejected. Like I had squeezed through a new alleyway, and someone just shoved me out. I gasped, and caught myself on my bedroom wall. I swore, shifted, then froze. I wanted to lean forward, but I'd almost jerked forward instead, like… like I was lighter. Faster. Stronger.

"Hm." Rukia scowled, her arms crossed. She tapped her foot, as her eyes bore a hole into my face.

"What?" I looked at my hands, trying to see what she was glaring at – and saw my dark green bedspread, cutting through my chest.

"I've been cut in half!"

"Shut up! You just went through the bed, idiot!"

I scrambled away from my bed – and oh man, did that give a whole new meaning to "out from under my covers." I gave my body a wide berth. I had no idea what the rules were for an, er, out of body experience. For all I knew, just brushing it would send me back in. Or worse.

I couldn't help but stare at it as I passed. Its – my – neck was bent back at a painful angle. My hands were limp, splayed out on the ground by my hips. For all intents and purposes, I looked asleep.

I saw my chest rise slightly, then fall. A long pause, then my body breathed again.

It made sense, in a really freaky way. If Ichigo's body died every time his soul left, it would have gone long past rigor mortis by the time he got back.

It felt so… right, seeing Ichigo's—my body, slumped on the ground, separate from me. I clenched my fists and tried not to dwell on it. That line of thought led to dark places I shouldn't think about.

"So I was right." Rukia's murmur dragged my attention back to her. Her hand was on her chin, that intense violet gaze scanning me from head to toe. "I thought the light had fooled my senses, but…"

"What?" I swallowed. My heart thudded in my ears. (Shinigami have heartbeats.) "What happened? Is something wrong with me?" I scrambled to my feet, and almost tripped over thin air. I swore, flailing my arms to right myself.

What the hell? I felt…weird. My sense of balance was off. I'd almost stubbed my toe. I was as tall as I've always been, but the floor felt closer somehow. I looked down—had something happened to my feet?

The first thing I noticed were the bandages. They hadn't been part of Ichigo's original outfit, that was for sure. Had I been injured? Was that what the problem was?

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to fix this. That shopkeeper has to know something—"

The bandages sloped over my chest, before disappearing under my kimono's neckline. I could feel the bandages, so there was nothing between them and my skin. So what was inside them? Because they sloped over my chest, enough that I couldn't get a good view of my stomach.

My hands were trembling. I only noticed because I raised them to touch my neck. I placed my fingertips under my collarbone, then ran them over the bandages. That was… pressure. Sensation. I could feel my hands cup my breasts – my breasts. I could feel that subtle weight on my chest, bound in place by the cloth bandages. I could feel my fingers indent skin under my hakama.

I was holding breasts. I was holding my breasts—

"STOP THAT YOU PERVERT!"

"Ow!" I clutched my face, cursing. Rukia kept her foot on my hip, pinning me to the ground.

"I said, we'll find a way to fix this!" She leaned over, forcing me to look at her death glare. "So don't even think about using this as an opportunity to be a creep! Or else."

"I'm not a pervert! Get off me already!" Frustration and a heady sort of thrill gave me the strength to throw her off. Ignoring her yelp, I sat up and starting patting myself all over.

Nothing between my legs. A waist that narrowed before flaring into soft hips. My aforementioned breasts. And—

Orange flickered at the corner of my eyes. I tugged it into view.

Shoulder-length hair?

I pushed myself to my feet and staggered to my hated mirror. Sense of balance was still off—so this was real, right? Not an illusion? I threw myself in front of the mirror… and cursed.

No reflection. What, so mirrors can't see dead people?! Come on!

"Ichigo? Ichigo!"

For once, Rukia looked anything but self-assured. Her brow was furrowed, her stance wide; ready to move if she needed to. But her hands were curled in, closer to her chest. She almost seemed… worried.

I stared into those large, violet eyes, and saw a flash of orange reflected in them.

Rukia.

Rukia can see dead people.

"What do I look like?"

"What?" Her jaw dropped.

"I said, what do I look like?" Frantic energy buzzed over my skin. I must have looked crazy to her, looming over her with my height. To her credit, she didn't step back. "Rukia, please!" I held out my hands, resisting the urge to shake her. "I can't see myself in the mirror! I need to know—I need to know if this is real."

My hands dropped, along with my gut and what felt like the rest of my innards. Saying it felt like a jinx. It threatened to yank my feet out from under me, waking me up from what had to be a dream. Because I've had this dream before. I've dreamt of walking around in a body that felt right countless times, only to wake up shaking in my bed. I didn't—I couldn't—I needed this to be real. It couldn't feel this real, only to be a dream. I would die.

Rukia closed her mouth. A muscle in her jaw twitched. I dug my nails into my palm, holding on to what little patience I had left.

"Please," I begged.

She swallowed. Then—

"You still look the same," she said bluntly. My heart squeezed. "Your height hasn't changed, nor your build, save some softness due to added fat. Your face has also softened because of that. Your hair is longer. That's all."

So… So I still… I still looked like Ichigo. Except… "Except?" My voice cracked. Every muscle was tense, waiting for her answer.

Rukia hesitated, then dipped her head. "Except… you've turned into a girl."

My knees went weak. I staggered to my bed and sat down. Somehow, I didn't fall through this time.

I felt lightheaded. Like something had snapped. I could have flown into the sky at that very moment, like a balloon let loose from its string. It was that kind of feeling. Like… like I had been freed.

I realized I was smiling.

Rukia followed me, looking more and more concerned with every step. "What's going on?" she asked. "Why are you—hey!" The alarm in her voice made me raise my head. She flailed at me, eyes wide with panic. "Wait—don't cry!"

I touched my cheek. It came away wet.

Oh. Well.

It was either laugh, or cry. Or both.

It was almost funny how Rukia was so obviously out of her field. "It'll be fine." She reached out with an awkward hand, then took it back. She whirled away from my stare and began to pace. Rukia Kuchiki, all but wringing her hands in front of me. "We'll figure out what went wrong, we'll find a way to-" Her jaw snapped shut. The glare she leveled at me could have torn a hole in a building. Her flushed cheeks did nothing to temper the sight. "Why are you laughing?"

I covered my lips with a hand, trying to stop. Tears were still dripping down my face. I knew enough to know I was at some level of hysterical. The last thing I needed was for Rukia to actually think I was crazy.

"There's nothing wrong," I said at last, when I was confident enough I could speak straight. "There's nothing wrong with me!" I laughed again. It ended in a sound that was more like a sob. "There's nothing wrong with me," I repeated, softly, reverently.

I was a girl. I knew that for a fact. I knew it in the way my limbs never felt right, in the way my bones tried to shrivel away whenever I looked into a mirror. That didn't mean that I never spent my darkest nights wondering if I was just crazy. That didn't mean the validation of my form finally fitting my mind meant nothing to me.

"Will you explain what's going on?" Rukia demanded, stomping her foot. "What do you mean, there's nothing wrong with you? Answer me!"

I wiped my eyes and looked up to her bewildered, shaking face. "I—" My lips moved, but my voice refused to work. Which was stupid. She already knew, after all. I just had to explain what she saw in front of her. But this was… I'd never…

I looked down at my hands again. Lithe hands, with long fingers and nails nibbled to a short length. They didn't look any different. They were still my hands. And yet nothing felt the same.

Always, this had been something I had held close. It was a secret I buried so deep, there were days I wished I could forget it.

This secret wasn't Ichigo's. It was mine.

"Ever since—" Mom. "—I was a kid, I never… felt right. In my own body. And I thought—" I swallowed, and curled my fingers into my palm. "I always pushed it away. I thought—"

I bit my lip. I didn't want to say it. But Rukia waited, arms crossed. Her patience was like tempered steel, ready to strike at a moment's notice. I took a fortifying breath and continued.

"I thought, 'what kind of guy believes he's a girl?' Because what I saw in the mirror wasn't a girl. What people saw when they looked at me wasn't a girl. But I couldn't shake it. No matter what I saw, what other people saw, I felt like a girl. I wanted to be a girl."

Four years old. Peering through a window at a tiny, frill-covered dress, and turning to grin at Mom.

Eight years old. Watching Mom, Yuzu, and Karin prepare for Hinamatsuri, and wishing I was allowed to set up the Hina dolls too.

Eleven years old. Putting on my junior high uniform, knowing I'll never get to wear a cute sailor fuku like the girls'.

Fourteen years old. Watching Fumi walk away, green with jealousy at how slim her legs were in her tights, drowning in the knowledge that my bulky, hairy legs would never pull off a skirt like she could.

"So this…" I gestured with shaking hands at black kimono and pleated hakaman. "Knowing I'm a girl, and seeing it? Feeling it?" I slid my hands down my waist again, feeling my body dip then widen into curves I never had before. "I can't describe how happy I am." I looked up at Rukia, eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you."

The red blooming on Rukia's face made her look even younger than her petite figure ever could. She huffed and turned away, unable to look me in the eye. "But why? I thought it was because I—" She stopped.

"Because you gave me your power." I could see where the idea came from.

"Lent it." She glared at me. "Don't get too comfortable. This is only temporary." She jabbed her finger at my face. "As soon as my power returns, our arrangement is over."

My fingers spasmed on my lap. The fear was like a lightning bolt down my spine. To think of going back the way things were, of never escaping the body I'd been born with—I shoved it back.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." I pushed her hand away. "But, no. I don't think your Shinigami powers, uh, turned me into a girl. This feels… right." I shrugged, not bothering to hide how upset I felt. Couldn't get more distraught than I already was. God, I needed to calm down before I swing back to the euphoria side of hysteria again. "I've had this problem since before we met, so…"

"Still." She tucked her chin between her thumb and forefinger. "I've never heard of something like this." Her gaze flicked from my body to me. A boy slumped on the floor, a girl sitting on the bed. "Since it concerns bodies, it might not have been well-discussed… maybe the Twelfth Division would know…"

I shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine." And I hadn't even told her about the dimension-hopping yet.

She huffed and dropped her hand. "It doesn't matter." She pointed at me, and at the shinigami uniform I was wearing. "This doesn't change anything. You're still my substitute, and you're a whole day overdue!" Her eyes narrowed. "What are you grinning about now?"

I ducked my head, feeling the knots of my anxiety loosen. How could I tell her how much the words "it doesn't matter" mean to me? It would probably just send her into another bout of flustered sputtering.

The first person I'd confessed my secret to, and she'd dismissed it in less than five minutes. She hadn't demanded an explanation that I couldn't give. Neither did she call me a liar or an abnormality.

Maybe Rukia had better things to worry about. Maybe it just wasn't in a soul's nature to question the nature of a soul. I didn't know.

Did it matter?

"Ignore me. I swear I'll make more sense in a few hours. Maybe. When it settles in." I pushed myself to my feet. I wiped my tears and snot on my sleeve. "So. Time for some Hollow ass kicking. Is that what you're saying?"

The thought of facing another eldritch abomination didn't even faze me. I'd charge ten of Inoue's brother if it meant keeping my body—er, spirit.

Okay, maybe just three.

Rukia made a face, but otherwise didn't comment. "Yes. Lucky for you, I came prepared." She pulled out her phone and flipped it open. I moved closer and peered over her shoulder. The screen was tiny… but the street lines and the blinking red dot were clear enough.

"A Hollow just crossed over to the Living World a few hours ago. We'll use it as your first lesson." She snapped her phone closed, then raised an eyebrow at me. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"Uh." I blinked at her. With a sheepish smile, I jerked a thumb at my body sprawled on the floor. "Could you at least put it – me – on the bed before I go? I don't want my siblings walking in and thinking I'm dead."

Rukia rolled her eyes and grabbed my body by the arm. One sharp yank, and it was on my bed. Its limbs flailed as it landed, limp as a noodle.

I gaped at Rukia. Out of patience, she kicked me in the knee, jarring me from my thoughts.

"Ow!"

"Get moving already! Who knows how many souls that Hollow has eaten while you dithered?"

"Alright, alright!" Cursing under my breath, I stepped over my bed to my open window. Better through here than down the stairs, where there was the off-chance Karin would see me. Besides, it's not like a fall could kill a ghost… right?

I landed in front of our house with a stumble, mostly because I expected the fall to feel more… well, more than a little effort on the knees. I felt light as a feather. I could have probably jumped down twice that height and still walked away, whistling.

I looked up at my window. I could hear Rukia making her excuses to my family as she left the normal way.

I bounced on my heels. Hair brushed my cheeks and shoulders. There was that subtle weight on my chest I needed to get used to again.

"Lead the way, boss," I said, as Rukia shut the door behind her. She took one look at me and grimaced. "What?"

"You're so cheerful, it's terrifying," she informed me. "Just yesterday, I wasn't sure you knew how to smile."

I was reminded suddenly, harshly, of who I was and what I should be doing.

My name was Ichigo Kurosaki. Ichigo didn't smile. Ichigo was a grumpy kid with a heart of gold, who didn't want to go out of his way for anyone but helped those in front of him.

Ichigo Kurosaki wasn't a girl.

Just a few hours, I promised myself. Just a few hours, and I would go back to being Ichigo.

Just let me have this.

"I could say the same for you," I retorted, my cheeks heating. "I don't think I've seen you crack a smile since we met."

Rukia grinned. Her lips spread, leaving her teeth to peek out. It felt like a blade being drawn. I swallowed.

"Now that'sterrifying."

Her eyes narrowed. "You have a problem with my smile?"

"No, ma'am," I decided quickly. "Very pretty."

"Good." Her grin was now touched with a hint of smugness. "I think we're going to get along very well."

I thought of the ball I'd gotten rolling, and everything that was to come. "I sure hope so," was all I could say.

cw: Ichigo uses transphobic language to explain her experience with her gender to Rukia.

We're here! We're queer! To everyone who guessed what had happened, congratulations!

This entire premise was what kickstarted this fanfic all those years ago. I thought of SI reincarnations and how that would work in the world of Bleach that was all about death and souls. After all this time, we finally made it.

Thank you to everyone who has supported me in these past few nerve-wracking chapters. I see all of you in the comments! Every single one of you helped. Special mention to those who brought up their own experience with body/gender dysphoria, because it helped me round my knowledge of it even further.

Further notes of this chapter are on my writing blog. I look forward to seeing the future of this fic with everybody! ^_^