…

reunion.

…

He ran fleet-footed and light through the streets, an evanescent flash of brightness that only the most spiritually sensitive could see. But for most, there was the wind, carrying with it a sharp smell that brought back memories of the rain.

…

"Tensa Zangetsu?"

Numbness reigned absolute. Ichigo could not feel anything beyond the pounding in his skull and a peculiar drifting sensation, a strange light-headedness. The cool roughness of the concrete under his palms was especially welcome, affording him a tenuous grip on the reality that he could not accept.

This can't be. This… this is impossible.

Yet there he stood, pale and slender, swathed entirely in gleaming white. Darkness hemmed the edges of his sleeves, and the single-horned bone fragment perched on his silvery hair, a broken remnant of the greater whole.

He was a study in absolute contrasts; a portrait of light and shadows, black and bleached white. Ichigo tried to speak, but then realized with embarrassment that he wasn't sure of what to say, wasn't sure how to address the being in front of him.

This was not Tensa Zangetsu. At least, not him in full. Two separate beings had fused in a merger of zanpakutou and Hollow, an unprecedented occurrence which left Ichigo questioning the very nature of the resulting entity. However, he was certain about one thing.

You are… my power. Part of me.

Yet you've changed. I don't even know your name, not now.

Who are you?

That question quickly received an answer, and it was so specific Ichigo wondered whether his mind was being read.

"Tensa Zangetsu was the name I used to bear. Use it."

Well… you still can't let go of your old self, huh, Tensa Zangetsu? But nevertheless, you're not the same.

Who are you?

"A being very different from whom I was before. What I am now, however, is not important."

The eye he then turned on Ichigo (black-and-silver, unearthly, unnatural) glimmered with a hint of mockery and almost-bitterness, and Ichigo suddenly remembered that the Hollow had never received a name. Or an identity. He felt strangely guilty at the thought.

But Ichigo pushed it firmly out of his mind and focused instead on staying conscious, which was proving to be no easy task. Injuries aside, the shock and the realization was only now beginning to set in.

He was back. Tensa Zangetsu was back. And how many things did that entail!

His old life was returning. No longer was he cut off. No longer was he helpless. He would be able to see her-

Ichigo stopped that thought dead in its tracks, and refused to take it further.

But then laughter swelled and burst, and the tears too; fuelled by the confusion of his emotions. It was a happiness and a relief and an aching, a rising longing inside his heart-

Ichigo coughed.

There was a sick roaring in his ears. The world spun, contorted, tilted momentarily… The sound rose, engulfed him like a wave, choked him and spat him out, battered and bleeding. Something cold and unyielding pressed against his left shoulder and side, and Ichigo suddenly realized that he was lying on the ground, helpless, watching his blood drain away from his body. A thrill of fear swept through him; when had he ever been this weak?

Slim fingers grasped Ichigo's wrist and jerked him upright, supporting him as he stood, swaying perilously. Only now was he aware of the heavy toll blood loss had taken on him; he could barely even move, and the ground was looking more and more attractive by the second. Vision blurring, chest aching, Ichigo raised his head, looking up, and up–

Into the eyes of an old woman.

Ichigo jerked violently. The chain of the Plus rattled as she skipped back from him in turn, triggering a surge of movement that flowed and rippled through the crowd of souls behind her. They seemed almost substantial, almost solid in form, yet not quite.

Their chains were severed.

Tensa glanced back, eyes hard, and the grip on his wrist tightened, for an instant. Ichigo blinked. Blinked again, and rounded on him.

"Where did they go? What did you do? Oi, answer me, Zangetsu!"

Every Plus had disappeared, as if on cue. But Tensa merely shrugged and turned away; a slight, insignificant jerk of the shoulders that served to say I'm not going to tell you more than any words could.

Ichigo fumed.

"Well, then," Tensa remarked offhandedly. "I suggest we visit Urahara's shop as soon as possible, given the state that you are in."

He still wouldn't look at him. Ichigo nodded mutely and acquiesced, suddenly too tired to protest or even think.

The ghosts watched them depart with empty eyes.

…

The journey to the Urahara Shoten was a slow one, and arduous. This was much compounded by the fact that Ichigo could hardly stand, let alone walk, and Tensa's vice-like grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him moving. Ichigo had let him take the initiative once he'd ascertained that they were indeed heading in the right direction, and so had been free to drift off. But two phrases repeated themselves over and over, singularly removed from the mire and startling in their clarity.

Did I really see those Pluses? And:

How the hell does he know where Urahara's place is?

The storefront of the shop appeared soon enough, small and unassumingly squeezed in between a few larger, more modern buildings. It had stubbornly resisted change; the wooden sliding doors were the same, and the sign proudly displayed above the entrance, with the shop's name writ in bold kanji, had been there since time immemorial. The sheer familiarity of it all caused Ichigo to grin in spite of himself; he hadn't been back for the better part of a year, and hadn't realized how sorely he missed the sight.

THWACK.

"JINTAAAA HOME RUN!"

And only luck saved Ichigo from a braining.

"Oh Jinta, not again." The voice, quiet and shy, came from a small girl with drooping purple eyes standing further afield. That, coupled with the distinctive split-tailed lock of hair, allowed Ichigo to identify her as Ururu, albeit a little older.

Jinta himself lowered his bat and scowled.

"Stop it," she continued, quickly making her way towards them. "You're always hitting customers with that ball, and I don't even know if you're doing it on purpose anymore – Oh."

Ururu had caught sight of Ichigo, and her customary meekness returned almost instantly.

"Um… " She dropped her eyes to the ground, blushing furiously. "I-It's been a while, Kurosaki-san."

Jinta, however, didn't quite share her sense of decorum.

"About time you visited," he groused, and spared Ichigo only the most cursory of glances before turning his attention to Tensa. "And what're you? You don't feel anything like a Shinigami, but you're not human, either."

Tensa looked at him stonily, and an awkward silence ensued for one beat, two...

"Oh why, hello there!" A man unfolded himself from the packed earth where he had been sitting, picking up both staff and fan as an afterthought.

Kisuke Urahara had always been one for the theatrics. His long black coat splayed out behind him, and the ever-present striped hat shadowed his eyes with its brim, lending him a mysterious, even sage-like air. Or so he'd termed it. Ichigo thought it looked plain shady.

He also wore a large grin on his face.

But the grin disappeared entirely as he took in Ichigo in all his blood-soaked glory, and Tensa standing beside him. Urahara raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and tut-tutting at the state of Ichigo's wounds.

"Well, well, well. What's happened to you? If you're not careful you'll get yourself killed, spiritual powers or no."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Ichigo retorted.

Urahara stopped, looking at him thoughtfully. "No, actually."

And he hustled them all inside.

…

"Where's Yoruichi?" Ichigo asked, after a quick scan of the room.

Urahara's smile faded slightly. "Business as usual," he replied, and for a moment he looked the tiniest bit forlorn.

They were currently in the back portion of the shop away from the merchandise, occupying the small living room. It had been outfitted in compliance with traditional guidelines; several tatami mats covered the floor, upon which a long, low-lying table had been set, complete with cups of tea.

Ichigo leaned against the wall and watched as Tessai healed the gashes on his chest, muttering snatches of poetry under his breath while his hands glowed an ethereal green. Jinta and Ururu had since returned outside to play, as was evident by the thwacks of ball hitting bat and the worryingly frequent crashing noises. Jinta's battle cries, in particular, were loudly audible even from where they sat.

Urahara contemplated the depths of his cup, appearing inordinately interested in his tea. Tensa was nowhere to be seen.

Eventually Tessai grunted and dusted off his palms, no longer glowing, and Ichigo looked down at his unblemished torso with some surprise.

"Finished," said Tessai. "Although…" He mopped his brow, wiping off a trickle of sweat. "That took much longer than I had expected."

Urahara leaned forward, eyes trained on Ichigo's face. "What type of Hollow was it, Ichigo? The one that attacked you?"

Ichigo frowned and considered. "I couldn't actually see it," he began, haltingly. "But… there was something. Well, it was pretty much a huge, transparent blotch hell-bent on killing me; a shadow, almost."

Urahara and Tessai glanced at one another, and Ichigo shrugged self-consciously, irritated.

"Yeah, I know that's not exactly helpful, but look, I couldn't make it out clearly enough to describe."

Still, there was something else. Ichigo hadn't paid it any attention at the time, being somewhat encumbered, but now it struck him as decidedly odd.

"And there'd also been a, a smell, almost." He thought back, and his nose wrinkled at the memory. "Like flowers and death."

There was no mistaking it this time; the startled looks of both Urahara and Tessai gave them away. A flurry of unspoken communication occurred, and then Tessai cleared his throat.

He chose his words carefully. "This ability you describe… is the ability of reikagu, "spiritual smell". It's the skill of detecting reikaori, or the "spiritual scent" of one's reiryoku. Wherever there's spiritual power, there's spiritual scent." He looked sheepish. "The only knowledge I have of reikagu is from book learning, when I was studying kido and the various related techniques."

"And the ability is exceedingly rare in Shinigami, nowadays." Urahara studied Ichigo intensely. "As a matter of fact, you are the only Shinigami I've heard of in living memory to possess this skill. How long has it been since you've acquired it?"

"Uh, since today?"

"Well, then," Urahara nodded at Tessai. "As a test, what did Tessai's reiryoku smell like, while he was healing you?"

Ichigo concentrated, and then looked at him. "It smelled like dishwashing liquid."

Tessai's expression was ecstatic, but Urahara's face was peculiarly distant; he was far, far away, deep in thought.

"Hmm," he murmured. "Who was that young man with you earlier, Kurosaki-san? Or rather, what is he?"

"His name's Tensa Zangetsu." Ichigo glanced around again, but he was still missing. "My… zanpakutou and Inner Hollow…"

"Fused into one, yes." Urahara toyed idly with his fan, turning it over and over in his fingers. "I guessed as much. Therefore, the entirety of your powers, manifest in physical form, am I right?"

Ichigo half-shook his head. "He's back, but my powers aren't."

"Still, you've mentioned signs of reishi detection… Well! How interesting."

A flamboyant flourish of hands and the fan was open, flapping somewhat triumphantly in front of Urahara's face. "It's a certainty that the physical manifestation of your spiritual powers was the trigger which initiated your reikaori sensing. In particular, the Shinigami who gained this ability all possessed a unique understanding of their powers."

"However, your spiritual powers haven't truly returned, which makes all this rather invalid."

Urahara's eyes bored into his, calculating and no longer friendly.

"I had better find your friend before he wanders too far."

And thus he disappeared, leaving Ichigo to stare after him.

…

Urahara found him tucked into a corner, warily watching his advance with eyes that glittered like gems.

So enigmatic, thought Urahara with a hint of amusement. Who would have believed that Ichigo had such depths to him?

"Urahara."

He raised an eyebrow, hidden as it was under his hat. "So familiar with me already, Tensa-kun? Well, what may I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you. Could you do me a favour of sorts?"

…

It was getting dark, and there was no reason to linger once Tensa had returned. And so it was that they found themselves making their farewells. Jinta and Ururu had long since gone indoors.

"Hey, thanks for everything, Urahara-san, Tessai," said Ichigo. Tensa made no attempt to speak, but gazed at Urahara with the full weight of mismatched eyes.

Urahara fluttered his fan flirtatiously in answer, just as Tessai inclined his head. And so Urahara Shoten retreated into the distance as Ichigo and Tensa began their journey home.

"Bye bye, Kurosaki-san! Tensa-kun! Come back soon!"

They looked back at the figure waving manically at them, and walked faster.

…

Getting back home was no problem. It was the after that was painful.

"MY BABY ICHIGO-CHAN!" Bam. The door was enthusiastically flung open.

"Where were you? You were so late and I was so worried! WHY DON'T YOU GIVE YOUR DADDY A BIGGG HUGGGG– Mrffph!"

Needless to say, all Isshin got was a foot to the face. But then…

"O-onii-chan? Why've you got blood all over?" Yuzu put her hands to her mouth, horrified.

What subsequently followed was a shocking maelstrom of utter chaos, involving Yuzu bursting into tears, Isshin smothering Ichigo in his haste to check for injuries ("OH MY BABY'S HURT!") and Karin turning away, loudly disregarding the entire ruckus ("Pfft. A couple of scratches won't kill him."). Tensa loitered near the doorway, nonplussed, and Ichigo was heartily glad that he was invisible to all nearby.

Or almost all. Karin was staring at him, from him to Tensa and back, and she did not look pleased. Ichigo quickly flashed her an imploring look before he was bowled over once again by Isshin's overzealous administrations.

Not in front of Yuzu. There was no need to be worried about Isshin; Goat-chin would find out in his own time, if he'd care to look around.

Karin nodded in response and joined the fray, pulling them both apart and tackling Isshin to the ground. Ichigo had perhaps all of one second to feel proud of his little sister before being attacked instead by a barrage of questions. Most notably; where were you, what were you doing, and how on earth did you destroy your uniform like that?

"So…" Ichigo thought quickly and hard. "I got mauled by a giant cat on the way back. A really humongous one. Yeah."

Of course, Yuzu and Isshin were the ones to believe him. Karin rolled her eyes heavenward, instead.

Ichigo managed to extricate himself from their attentions in due course, escaping to his room with Tensa following sedately behind him. But he was forced to return almost immediately for dinner, much to his annoyance. Yuzu's cooking was superb as always, but it was rather tempered by Isshin taking full advantage of the situation.

"Daddy's still suspicious, because cat-attacks just don't take that long! I know from experience! There's gotta be something you're hiding from me, Ichigo. Hmm… You were at Orihime-chan's place again, weren't you?"

How did the man make even eyebrow waggles seem so lewd?

Ichigo groaned.

…

And so… it begins.

Tensa lay back against the door of Ichigo's room, sitting on the threshold and waiting, always waiting. The night was quiet, and cold, and velvet dark, broken only by a thin stream of light from the sharp crescent moon.

There was a soft shuffling; a swish of trailing cloth against the floorboards. His head turned incrementally, precisely, ears trained for noise and suddenly alert and attentive.

It was Ichigo's sister. Karin, wasn't it? She was a slip of a thing, with cropped black hair just brushing her shoulders, tinted faintly blue by moonlight. She seemed almost a frail wraith in her nightgown, but no wraith moved with such determination. Karin was steel.

She settled down next to him, and together they mutually ignored the other. Until–

"Why are you here? What's Ichigo to do with you?"

Her whisper was soft, velvet too, but laced with the same steel that pervaded her demeanour. Tensa knew it would come to this, for this one girl, just as he knew that she would not go until he gave her what she wanted.

"I swore that I would protect him. Only him, no matter the cost. And so I shall, till death… and beyond."

The girl stared at him, wide-eyed in spite of herself, no doubt feeling the truth of his words but struggling to comprehend. Tensa smiled, grimly, bitterly; smiled still as she left him and returned to her room.

He waited until dawn, and then stood up.

There were things to do.

…

AN: This story is hereby continued!

I am so, so sorry. Please accept this chapter as an apology, I hope everyone enjoys it. Bash me if you want; I deserve it. But life sucks when you want to write, and I had such a massive brain-block… The next chapter will be easier. And this story will be long. (This chapter, though… So much dialogue and exposition! But writing is such fun!)

A special thank you goes to everyone who reviewed, faved and alerted, especially to those who reviewed! If it were not for you guys, this would still be languishing as a one-shot, and this update would never have come. I was really about to trash this, but then decided against it.

Check my profile for in-progress tabs. And next time, if anyone feels that I'm going too slowly, please, don't hesitate to poke me and yell for an update! :)

Gah, reishi and reiryoku and reiatsu, my head hurts. (You won't find reikagu or reikaori anywhere, harharhar.) Urahara is interesting. Must write more of him.

Until next time! Happy New Year!

Bookwormtiff.