Whispered pleas and muttered curses drifted through the silent night. Buildings, buildings; so many nooks and crannies, but nowhere to hide without being found.

It didn't matter.

All that mattered was that he got away; he would go anywhere, do anything to escape.

With a loud cry, Ichigo fell forward, biting his tongue by accident. He tasted blood, but paid it no mind. He stood immediately, and continued running.

It didn't matter where he went, he was still being followed. Even here, in his inner world, he was not safe. He was there.

Mocking laughter echoed around him. The voice was his own, and yet very different. It was full of the malice that he, Ichigo, could never have. "It's over, boy," it whispered.

Ichigo whipped around, clutching a broken Zanpakuto desperately. Zangetsu had long ago failed him, succumbing to the superior power of his opponent. He couldn't fight. He couldn't run. There was nothing he could do.

There.

An albino figure stepped out from the shadows, looking strangely off-place in a sea of shadows. In stark contrast to Ichigo's shinigami outfit, the only trace of black that could be seen here was in his eyes. Even those were offset by the twin gold orbs, glinting maliciously in the moonlight.

Ichigo's voice cracked, the oncoming threat dying on his tongue as the negative image of himself drew closer. He raised his shattered Zangetsu; futile though he knew it was, he had to fight.

Ichigo's other self merely laughed, batting the Zanpakuto clean out of the red-head's grip. "Forget it, child. Don't you remember our conversation?"

Ichigo's heartbeat hastened as his memory drew back to the words his Hollow had uttered long ago. "The only difference between a king and his horse is which one stays on top. I warn you, Ichigo Kurosaki. Falter once, and I become king."

Ichigo bit back a whimper as he felt his back hit the wall. Hichigo continued advancing, white Zanpakuto outstretched. The very tip of the blade settled itself against Ichigo's throat. "I warned you, Ichi. I warned you that I would take over. Now it's finally time," he whispered, leaning in so their faces were but inches apart. "Savour your memories, boy. I will make a far better Ichigo Kurosaki than you ever did."

Ichigo's eyes widened, as for the first time in his life, he felt himself tremble in terror. "No…"

He remembered his friends, his family…his mother. Bitter regret filled him as he realised that he could have been so much better, a better friend, a better brother, a better son. There were so many things he had yet to do; he needed to thank his father for giving him his life back after his mother died. He needed to tell Orihime that he loved her, really and truly loved her. He needed to say goodbye to his friends, wishing them well in whatever challenges they may face.

He needed to grow stronger.

But he never would.

Hichigo stroked his victim's cheek softly with a single black-nailed finger. "All those things you never accomplished…all those things you've always wanted to do, but never had the guts. All those feelings you never acknowledged. All those fights you never won."

Ichigo jerked his head away from the touch, spitting an insult with what little strength he had left.

Hichigo smiled regardless. "Everything you've always wanted to be…is mine. Your life is mine, now. You will be the one trapped here, inside your own head. You will be the reflection. I will be the person. I will be king. And this time, things will be done right."

Ichigo had time for one final gasp as the blade suddenly pierced his throat, severing an artery. Ichigo gagged, blood flowing freely from the wound in his neck. He sank to his knees, eyes open, frightened…

lifeless.

That night, on All Hallow's Eve, Ichigo Kurosaki died.

At the same time, the teenaged boy lying in his bedroom in a small town in Japan, opened his eyes for the first time.

That night, on All Hallow's Eve, the new Ichigo Kurosaki was born.

"Hello, world."

00

Friends and relatives would whisper amongst themselves that the Kurosaki boy had changed. Strangely enough, his normal parting switched over to the opposite side. At the same time, the normally right-handed boy was suddenly seen to be writing with his left.

Not only that, his smile was brighter, his laugh was heard more often, and he seemed to be enjoying himself more than was usual. To everyone's surprise, but to nobody's shock, he had, on the first night after Halloween, grabbed hold of Orihime Inoue and announced to all present that he loved her deeply. On the same day, he had terrified his father by tackling him to the floor and loudly proclaiming his gratitude to be living with such a fine figure of a man.

Yes, everyone agreed that this new Ichigo Kurosaki was more intense, more lively. In fact, they noticed, every time the boy came across a mirror, he would gaze lovingly into it, smiling slightly to himself as though he was eternally pleased to be alive. And when he was satisfied, he would spin around and walk away with considerably more spring in his step.

What nobody noticed, however, was that every time Ichigo Kurosaki walked away from a mirror, his reflection always took that tiny bit longer to follow…

Do you know, this is a) my first horror fic, and also b) my first fic involving anyone who isn't an Arrancar? And YES, I am well aware that Halloween is over. Shut up. I refuse to succumb to your conformist rules.