Chapter One

If. If if if if. What if this, what if that.

None of it can be changed; once mighty, he is fallen. One thousand years have passed since he last saw the light of day with his own eyes. A parasite is what he is now. He lives in the inner worlds of shinigami – shinigami whose zanpakutō remind him painfully of his old partner, his own long lost comrade.

Yet… he dares to hope when he finds himself in the inner world of a brash youth with bright orange hair and a stubborn streak a mile wide, whose reiatsu and abilities grow too fast to be comprehended.

Opportunity comes in the forms of one arrogant Sōsuke Aizen and a very costly Final Getsuga Tenshō; he shows himself at last.

A stand-off takes place in the hurricane force winds of Ichigo's inner world, but the human is unaware of the confrontation. The vizard is making his way to the fake Karakura town, and the chaos of his darkened inner world is an unequivocal sign of his worries.

"Tensa Zangetsu, your wielder's a headstrong moron. No survival instinct. You know that, right?"

The voice is arrogant and disdainful; its inflection carries no hint of sympathy, yet the tone quality itself is smooth and resonant. Ichigo's zanpakutō, annoyed and anxious, glares at the foreign entity, and restrains a biting response. He knows that this individual is attempting to bait him into a useless argument. Next to the zanpakutō stands the pallid form of Ichigo's hollow; the two spirits present a bizarrely unified front as they face the stranger. The hollow retorts, its usual coarse methods of discussion uncharacteristically subdued.

"So what if King is? If that bastard Aizen runs free, we all know what'll happen, and it ain't gonna be pretty. King already has what it takes to knock the traitor off his high horse, but it'll cost King his life."

Onyx hair twists violently in the throes of the tempest, and pieces of the foreigner's body wrappings chip away in the wind's grasp, only to regenerate within moments. The binding falls away from the outsider's visage for several seconds, and a condescendingly distant expression is revealed.

"You want me to offset that, hm? Of course you do; a hollow only cares for its own survival, and a zanpakutō only cares for what's best." The interloper pauses, as if genuinely considering offering his aid. Tensa Zangetsu knows that this is only an act; the stranger has mocked them continuously since contact was made scant minutes ago. If Tensa Zangetsu were inclined to curse, he would rightfully call the foreigner an asshole. The zanpakutō is unpleasantly surprised by the stranger's next words.

"What's in it for me?" An inauspicious smirk adorns the foreigner's pale face as he says this, though the expression is slowly covered by regenerating bindings. The zanpakutō and hollow are disconcerted by the cold indifference that permeates the foreigner's body language, the lack of care that a boy is about to sacrifice his life. The two representatives of Ichigo's soul exchange a tense glance, and negotiations are begun.

"Let me make this clear. The only thing I want is my damn freedom; it's not like I'm stuck in here by my own will. Look at it as a 'win-win situation,' if that makes you feel better. He gets to live, where if I didn't interfere he would die and forget everything… and I will be liberated, where otherwise I would be a prisoner for who knows how many years more. Simple, eh?"

"I feel like we've been jipped."

Cerulean eyes meet golden ones; identical grimaces adorn the hollow and zanpakutō's expressions.

"Perhaps we have been. However, Ichigo will have a chance to experience a life of normalcy with his living friends."

A snort, sardonic and disbelieving, rents the air.

"Small consolation, don't ya think? King likes action." A pause follows, and then the presence of their wielder flares into life in the inner world. "Here he comes. Ya ready for this?"

"As ready as I can be."

Tensa Zangetsu will resent Ichigo a little for demanding to learn the Final Getsuga; the zanpakutō will hate Aizen for forcing such a sacrifice. He will loathe the foreigner most of all, and Tensa Zangetsu won't care that it's petty to revile someone who will prevent Ichigo's death at Aizen's hands.

For three days straight after waking, Ichigo mourns his own loss in apparent silence.

In his inner world – broken but intact, no hollow, no old man – he rails against fate, screams until his voice is hoarse, damns the world and hates them all.

This can't be the end, I won't let it be!

He doesn't truly mean any of it… but the bitterness and regret linger long after he starts speaking to his family and friends again.

The teen had lost his innocence when his mother died by the machinations of the Grand Fisher. Now, his strength itself – my partner, my mentor, my despair, my drive – had disappeared, dead in its own way. Disillusioned, he loses his passion. Ichigo becomes a mere facsimile of his former self; he endeavors to hide this change, this weakness, for everyone else's sakes. Everyone is too glad that he's alive, and that Aizen is imprisoned, to notice that he is faking.

The masquerade he presents to the world becomes the norm. They merely think that he has changed – who wouldn't change at least a little after losing a piece of themselves? – but do not realize that he is far worse off than they see. He pretends to be OK for nearly two years before every contrived smile, every emotionless scowl is left behind, and it all comes crashing down.

Ichigo Kurosaki is bleeding. Profusely.

So much for graduation practice.

Laying facedown beneath the wreckage of his school's gymnasium, stunned and prostrate, he wonders why his life could never be normal. Can't I catch a break? He never imagined that a rampaging, mindless, somehow undetected Gillian would catch Karakura town unawares. He should have known, though, that a hollow would get past the shinigami patrol one day. After all, Chad, Inoue, and Ishida make for tempting hollow snacks. If only the Gotei 13 had assigned more apt recruits….

They're taking too long! Oh, there's blood in my eye… head wound?

An amateur squad battles the Gillian, and Ichigo is sure that a more experienced squad would have taken care of the hollow already. I could have taken it out in one swipe…. Ichigo wishes again and again that Zangetsu hadn't left that void in his inner world. He even misses the infuriating hollow, anything is better than the damning silence that he has dealt with for nearly two years.

The former vizard lifts his head in an attempt to find his friends, moves his arm to find his phone, and regrets the movement immediately. There aren't bones there, why am I always breaking, ruining, something new? Gnawing, searing agony razes through the adolescent's body as nerve endings alight; he rests a bloodied cheek back on the ground as his mind races, fuelled by adrenaline and pain. He realizes that a beam has impaled him, somehow missing his spine – if I can move at all, that means my spine isn't severed – but mutilating so many vital organs, puncturing them with wood and metal and pieces of his own shattered ribs.

Blood gurgles up his throat; it runs red – lethargic and mournful – down his chin.

It is a sign of his imminent death, and terror seizes him. Doctors can't replace that many organs fast enough, can't sew a person up that fast – but Inoue can! No, Inoue and the others won't reach him in time. There's too much debris. And… the shinigami won't let Inoue attempt to reject his death. "Unnatural," they had called her power.

But a hollow could regenerate….

Scorching raw emotions fly through his mind fast and fleet, too quickly for him to truly perceive. There is no small amount of bitterness and sorrow – I forgive them, I do I really do, it was worth it, but couldn't they have left me a note? Something? Why, Rukia? Renji? Hanatarō? Where are they when I need them? Not the other way around…. – and a vast, overwhelming anguish drowns all the other emotions.

He won't be able to say goodbye at this rate, and that is what terrifies him. He will forget them – Goat face, Yuzu, Karin, Inoue, Chad, Ishida, Tatsuki,… – and won't even be able to tell them that he cares, one last time. He won't be able to tell them to not cry. Move on, move on, keep living!

Just as bad, he won't remember his shinigami friends. They will surely find him in the Rukongai one day, and he won't remember a damn thing. His heart races in fear and despair – so many lost chances – and blood pours out onto the ground that much faster. Despair… Zangetsu always hated the rain. Sorry, old man.

Ichigo is lightheaded now and can't remember what he was panicking about. Black spots dance in his vision, and his breathing slows. The insistent thump thump thump of his heartbeat weakens.

He sees Inoue's face through a break in the rubble – so blurry and dark, but that hair and face I recognize…. There's no sound, but he can see that she's saying "no" again and again. At least one person can have his farewell; at least she will hear the words that he wants them all to know.

"Move… on…. Look… forward."

Ichigo's voice is broken and weary. There's no strength left in his body, and his heavy eyelids drift shut over his pained mahogany eyes.

Inoue wails as a shinigami restrains her from using her powers, but Ichigo is already senseless and gone.

Ichigo Kurosaki is dying; it is clear in his inner world that this is happening. Buildings topple, flood waters desecrate the streets, and the sky churns, ominous and grey, as darkness descends onto the cityscape.

Tensa Zangetsu is trapped and useless, confined to a single skyscraper; he wishes for the millionth time that it hadn't come to this. He watches the landscape decompose before his eyes, and the chill of the blackened sky reaches his core, shaking even the subdued hollow contained within his body and mind.

A dark figure standing atop the highest skyscraper observes the chaos and destruction, an elegant ebony blade resting on its shoulder with its hilt held limply in the figure's right hand. The individual, his long tendrils of hair obscuring his visage, turns to face Tensa Zangetsu. Piercing hazel eyes scrutinize Tensa Zangetsu's expression, and a sardonic smirk, accompanied by an eyebrow twisted upward, crosses its features.

The message is clear.

Our deal is done. You won't be helping him.

Ichigo deserves better than this – better than what he has lived through – but Tensa Zangetsu has already done everything he can to make sure that Ichigo is given the opportunity to reconcile and heal. The creature promised that, after death, Ichigo would keep his memories, and that Tensa Zangetsu would be released; that was all that the foreigner could reasonably salvage from the effects of the Final Getsuga. The zanpakutō hopes it will be enough.

Tensa Zangetsu hopes even more that Ichigo will forgive him.

"It's for the best that you not contact his spirit, Inoue-san."

A nameless shinigami is lecturing her; she is too gentle to snap at him that she doesn't care. Ishida finishes the shinigami's reasoning with his own brand of logic – cold logic.

"Kurosaki's emotions were always volatile in life, Inoue-san. If we reach out to him this close to death, he could easily be overcome by negative emotions and turn into a hollow." Inoue sighs.

"I know…."

Ichigo's spirit appears next to the pile of rubble where his body is still trapped, and the nameless shinigami quickly performs konsō. Inoue quietly murmurs her farewell as light envelops the spirit of her dear friend.

She can't leave yet. None of them leave; they will see Ichigo's body off. He gave everything for them. The least they can do is insure a proper burial.

When Ichigo's body is finally retrieved an hour later, Inoue glimpses it only for a second before she vomits. Chad pats her back comfortingly as she avoids looking at the corpse. It barely resembles Ichigo Kurosaki anymore; it's covered in gore and blood. In death, Ichigo's body is ravaged and torn. Even his vivid hair, a sign of his stubborn and vivacious nature, is disguised in shades of brown and crimson.

Inoue knows that when the tears come, they won't stop for a very long time.

He exists, and is reluctantly waking. His arms and legs are sprawled haphazardly through thick grasses. Sable hair frames a pale figure, the contrast stark and poignant in the shades of night.

Where am I?

A cloudless midnight sky peers at him; there is no moon, and the stars are brilliant gems peering upon the Rukongai. He lies on his back a moment, contemplating the heavens. The night's zephyrs rouse him, and he forces shaking limbs, straining muscles, to work. He struggles to his feet.

Tendrils of something tickle his senses, and taunt his periphery vision. It is an unfamiliar thing in his vision; he does not know what exactly should be in its stead, though.

Bright, something distinct and short. Not this dark, free-flowing mess.

Shallow waters, a series of ponds, are in the distance. He approaches them, wanting to see his reflection. His gut churns unpleasantly as he observes the image in the water.

Something is wrong. Wrappings, binding and encasing, are present on nearly every inch of his skin. The hazel eyes, the mane of onyx tresses, the ominous presence…. He somehow understands that this is not what he should be seeing.

"Who am I?"

He receives no answer, but he thinks he hears a voice carried on the wind.

Ichigo.

A small part of him stirs in response; the name does not mean anything to him, but the voice that says it… whoever said it means something to him. He can almost put a name to the voice, who…?

His stomach grumbles loudly, and he wanders away from his reflection, abandoning the task of recalling a name whose significance he doesn't recollect.

Tensa Zangetsu is free from his confinement, but his wielder cannot even respond to the hybrid zanpakutō's call, cannot recall the zanpakutō's name. He paces, agitated, atop the edges of one of the few standing skyscrapers, his hands plaintively intertwined over the rear of his coat. The zanpakutō is startled by the sudden presence of the foreigner at his side; his two-tone eyes quickly pierce the foreigner with a demanding, questioning gaze.

"Give it a rest, you motherhen! I don't know the specifics, it's not like I've done this before. It'll just take a couple hours for the kid to acclimate, that's all."

One teal eye narrows while the brow above the golden eye rises marginally; Tensa Zangetsu almost mistakes the foreigner's words for consolation.

"I should hope so."

The foreigner leans forward and slings his blade over his shoulder; a grim expression is evident in the set of his eyes, and no sneer is present in the creature's next words.

"I never go back on my word, little spirit. One way or another, the boy will have his memories and all of his skills. Your wielder, with powers and all, is my ticket to freedom, remember?"

Notes (7/20/2011): Tada! I'm doing a re-imagined version of "For Each Action." This story incorporates information in the Hell Chapter in the manga, but excludes Xcution. I'm not completely caught up on Bleach, don't watch movies or the anime, and don't play the games, so no content beyond chapter 428.1 will appear. No romance, mostly because I just don't like writing romance, and only thoroughly established canon pairings (like Byakuya and Hisana) may be mentioned, if at all.

As readers of "For Each Action" can see, "Getsuga" is quite different in this story – more self serving, and a little bit of a jerk. His name also won't be Getsuga anymore. The writing itself has changed as well; less wordy, but descriptive I hope.

I don't have a beta, so mistakes are my own, plus I'm not well-versed in the finer details of Bleach, so let me know if anything is particularly odd, or just wrong so that I can investigate.

Reviews are much appreciated!

Special thanks to the following reviewers who reviewed the 15th chapter of "For Each Action":

skepsis66, Gen. Malaise, hollownature, Quiet Fury, Blue Chooks, Toad Sage 13 , mist shadow, kyuuo , Uchiha Rai

Your feedback really helped me shape this chapter.

(7/21/2011) I should have made this clearer yesterday; the actual plot devices behind "Getsuga" differ from "For Each Action." I'm hoping you all will enjoy the change; instead of a righteous purger, "Getsuga" will be more of a ... well. I can't give it away just yet. But more of a reformer of souls. He won't just cleanse souls, and he won't be hunting down any old soul that's being naughty; he'll only have jurisdiction over certain types of souls.

I hope that helps explain a few things :) Also, the response that this is already getting is making me so happy.

Also - new readers, I would like to know if you're confused.