A/N: I hope you enjoy this small piece. I tried my Hand at...well Godlike! Ichigo. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tite Kubo.

His eyes opened. Brown eyes staring at a ceiling of pure white. Keeping his breathing even he took stock of his body. No injuries, no soreness, no blinding tiredness weighing down his limbs.

He sat up. Taking in his surroundings a tightness built up in his chest as the familiarity of his surroundings hit. His desk, closet, guitar, the picture of his family on his nightstand. The feeling of his old, squeaky mattress beneath him. His eyes zeroed in on the stains in the left corner of his room, just next to his door from where he had dropped a mug of tea years ago – months ago?

His eyes wandered, mattress protesting under the movement, there were the scratches from playing tug of war with Karin when they were kids, there the markings on his doorframe, showing his growth over the years, stopping just after his tenth birthday. There was the folded piece of paper under the right front leg of his desk, keeping it steady since his father despite his many talents had never been the most skilled at building furniture.

A prickling in his eyes, heaviness in his stomache, pressure in his throat. He didn't need to feel the tears streaming down his face to know he was crying.

Silver liquid dripping down his chin as droplets fell and meet the floor only to shatter upon impact with a small 'ping' to accompany their demise.

He stood, disregarding the fine shards on the floor as his bare feet carried him over the wooden floor.

His eyes directed themselves downwards. His father was already awake, readying the clinic for a most likely busy day. His sisters were both in the kitchen, their energies carried, like a summer breeze with a hint of charcoal tickling his senses.

The stench of burning heavier when looking at his father – a show of his, of their morality.

Morning rituals of flying kicks, drops, slams and punches assaulted his mind – memories rushing and raving through his head at an alarming rate.

So much had been locked away. So much he had locked away. Death and sorrow replaced by duty.

For his own sake – he knew.

But not anymore, he couldn't hide anymore.

He would change it. Because he knew he could. He would. Would take this opportunity to save them from a damaged, crumbling world resting on the shoulders of someone too young – too naïve. Even if in the end all his efforts would be for naught. Even if the world in the end, would once again rest on his shoulders – on the edge of crumbling yet not.

A breath of charcoal and summer breeze, fragrance growing with every step he took carried him down the stairs. He reached the end of the staircase, gaze directed at the front door, energies and colors and fragrances and burning carrying through the thin wood. Telling of love and heartbreak, joy, anger, sadness, jealousy – Mortality. Turning away, he slowly made his way to the door on his right leading to their living room and giving a free view of their kitchen and dining room.

A young girl, smelling of innocence was bouncing around the kitchen, her small feet tapping on the floor as she danced to the tunes produced by a small radio above the stove. – Yuzu.

Another girl, hair black and scowl on her face was setting the table, her dark brown eyes settling on him as he stepped inside. – Karin.

"…Ichi-nii?" She asked, concern and curiosity in her voice as she set down the plates she was holding and took a step towards him.

Yuzu had looked up at her sister's words, eyes also zeroing in on her orange-haired brother.

Ichigo smiled.

Yes, he would change it all.

For them.