Author's Note: I KNOW THE SUMMARY IS THE SAME AS GOODNIGHT! IM TOO LAZY TO WRITE UP ANOTHER ONE! It's been a YEAR since I wrote the first story! MIRACLES DO HAPPEN! This is an ALTERNATE ENDING, NOT A SEQUAL! Just the let ya'll know :P I got some requests for a happier ending and hoigui was awesome enough to make his/her version of a happy ending! Well, I thought it'd be cool to actually make a happy ending too so here it is! I used hoigui's story as an outline to help the writing process along, so THANKS HOIGUI!

Rating: K+

Warning: Mentions of blood and injures but nothing graphic. And lots of tears :P

Disclaimer: I don't own BLEACH! I wish, but I don't :P

"Oh god…" Isshin breathed, staring at the horrifying scene before him. The room that had once been Aizen's quarters had been reduced to rubble, something worse than a war having ravaged the area. But that wasn't what caught his attention…there, on the steps of Aizen's throne, lay his son, his little boy, broken and bloody. The rays of light landing on him only seemed to highlight the injuries.

He willed his weakened and haggard body to move, to get closer to his son, and painfully did so. The large cuts and wounds that littered his chest, back, arms, and legs reopened and started to pour out more blood, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be by his son's side.

As he got closer, he saw the remains of Aizen's corpse on the other side of the room. If he had any more energy to spare, or didn't have a higher priority, Isshin would've growled at spat at the disgusting excuse of a Shinigami. But that wasn't important. Getting to his son was.

He finally reached Ichigo's side, his heart tearing apart at the gruesome scene before him. His son had received more injuries than he thought, and there was so much blood…it made Isshin queasy. Why did his son have to go through this?

The boy's face was sickly pale, worse than when Ukitake-taichou went into one of his coughing fits, and he looked so fragile…so frail it truly scared Isshin. Blood matted the boys hair and drenched his Shinigami robes and streamed down his face. Ichigo still had Zangetsu in his tight grip, but what drew his attention was the small crack forming in the center. Oh god, please no…

A wheezing cough brought the elder Kurosaki out of his daze, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His eyes darted to Ichigo's closed ones, his heart rate picking up when he saw them flutter.

Slowly, painfully, Ichigo opened his eyes only to see his bloody and battered father leaning over him with tremendous sorrow in his eyes. He managed a weak smile, "Hey Pops." His voice was hoarse and quiet and Isshin had to strain to hear him, but he was thankful and relieved nonetheless – pride shining in his eyes.

"Thank god." Isshin breathed, his own bright smile finally winning over the pathetic sadness that was there before. "Just wait a minute, I'll go get a Fourth Division memb-"

He was cut off when he felt his sons surprisingly strong hand on his forearm. He sent a questioning gaze only to receive a calm, tired one in return – a look he saw one too many times and never thought would see on his son. His heart suddenly broke all over again. "Did I get 'im, pops?" Ichigo asked weakly.

Isshin nodded, tears burning at the back of his eyes, as he thickly replied, "Yeah, son. You got him good." He kneeled by his sons side, his shoulders sagging in defeat and grief.

Ichigo nodded in content and sighed tiredly, wincing at the pain that lanced through his body. "Hey, pops…" he started, attempting to get up only to hiss in pain. Isshin helped support him, holding his son's head and shoulders in his arms, "how…how'd you meet mom?" he asked quietly, curiously – in a small, childish voice Isshin hadn't heard since he was little. The boy looked up inquisitively at his father, his eyes changing from tired and pained to wide and innocent. His heart clenched.

His eyes started to water and his chest ached painfully for reasons that had nothing to do with his injuries, but he smiled sadly anyway, "Well…" he started, clearing his throat, "when I came to the real world, I didn't know much about it. I ended up running into her at the market, literally. Your mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen…"

Ichigo smiled weakly, imagining his gorgeous mother and her heart-warming smile. His zanpakutou cracked a bit more, making the older Kurosaki feel sick to his stomach.

Isshin took a shuddering breath, pushing back the tears, "I asked her to show me around town since I was knew and she agreed. We walked around town and had a great time." He smiled.

The tightness in his chest became worse when Ichigo closed his beautiful brown eyes inherited from his mother. He ignored the crack from Zangetsu, willing the zanpakutou to not break – at least for a little longer.

"While we were walking though an ally, five men surrounded us and tried to kidnap her. I fought them off, but as one was about to attack me from behind, your mother – with her fiery temper and surprising strength – punched him once and knocked him out." He gave a small chuckle at the memory.

Ichigo could imagine that. His mother always seemed docile until you put something or someone she loved in danger. Then she could get REALLY scary. Another crack formed in Zangetsu as Ichigo thought, 'Thanks Zangetsu-ossan, Shirosaki.'

An old, tired, and fatherly voice relied, 'Thank you, Kurosaki Ichigo.'

Shirosaki remained quiet.

"She took me back to her place to bandage me up, telling me about her friend who had just passed away and was a doctor. We ended up talking the whole night and I eventually asked her out." Ichigo gave a contented sigh, slowly relaxing his pain rigid body and for once enjoying his fathers company.

He hadn't been held by either parent for a long time, ever since he shut his father out, and enjoyed every minute of it. He felt his fathers grip tighten around him, the pain slowly subsiding. His fathers warm loving voice lulled him into a sleep like state, closing his eyes he smiled at how nice it felt to finally let go of it all.

"Our first date was at the bank of the river, watching the fireworks. When I saw her smiling face lighted by the fireworks, I knew I was in love." He finished, closing his eyes in resignation as he felt his son start to go limp in his arms and heard the zanpakutou shatter.

'Love you pops.'

'I love you too, son. I'm so proud. '

The tears finally fell, a gut wrenching sob escaping from his lips. He looked down at his son and brushed his orange locks out of his closed eyes. He took some comfort in the smile that was on Ichigo's lips, but it didn't lessen the overwhelming loss that was sure to come with his sons last breath. He held his little boy to his chest tightly, ignoring the burning wounds all over, and cried.

Cried for a boy thrust into such a harsh reality

Cried for a man who changed people for the better.

Cried for a Shinigami that saved so many lives.

Cried for a hero.

After what seemed like an eternity, when the tears finally stopped, he finally released his sons body and lay it down gently with the utmost respect, love, and care. "Rest in peace, my son." He whispered hoarsely with the hope his son could hear.

Behind him, the doors swung open with a resounding thud as all of the Gotei 13's captains, lieutenants, and soutaichou entered the room along with all of Ichigo's friends.

Isshin was still kneeling by his sons body, turned away so he wouldn't have to see his oldest child disappear before him with his back facing the newly arrived Shinigami. He didn't want to face them in such a broken state right now, but he couldn't find the strength to stop the few tears still falling. Kami, it just hurt so much to lose his son, another little piece of their wacky family, broken.

The thought of telling his little girls, Ichigo's little sisters, about this… he could already imagine the tears and knew that it'd be much worse. He didn't want to break their hearts, not again.

"Ichigo!" Rukia yelled, searching for a head of orange hair.

A heavy hand held her shoulder and she looked up questioningly at her captain. His solemn gaze was away from hers and she followed, only to gasp at the sight. Beside her, Orihime fell to her knees with wide eyes and glistening tears running down her cheeks, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief.

The distinctive sound of a wall breaking rang through the large room but no one reacted. Some turned to see Chad with his fist through one of the many marble pillars lining the room as the pieces of rock crumbled around his trembling form. He ground his teeth to prevent his sorrow from taking over but not even his hair shadowing his face could hide the tears that fell.

Ishida looked away, his fists tight around his bow with his glasses shining and hiding his eyes. He seemed perfectly calm, like this was just another casualty in war, but the ever so slight trembling of his hands and his clenched jaw gave away the fact that this was indeed a heavy blow.

Renji cursed to himself repeatedly, his grip tightening on his zanpakutou to the point where his knuckles turned white. He grit his teeth angrily, not willing to believe that Ichigo, Ichigo – the damn cocky kid that kicked his ass so long ago, the human turned Shinigami that he became comrades and friends with and admired – was gone. It just didn't make sense.

Kenpachi bared his teeth angrily with a tight grip on his zanpakutou but knew not to disrupt Isshin's mourning, silently letting Yachiru sniffle on his shoulder while murmuring, "Icchy…"

Yumichika laid a hand on Ikkaku's shoulder supportively, not at all offended or surprised when the man turned away irately, doing much the same as Renji and cursing the substitute that he had come to see as a close friend and comrade.

Rangiku patted Orihime comfortingly on the back, finding it hard to even glance at Ichigo's motionless figure. The fun times in the human world flashed through her mind and she couldn't help but feel an aching in her chest – they were never particularly close, but it seemed Ichigo could worm his way into even the coldest of hearts. She glanced at her captain at the last thought.

Toshiro gave Isshin his privacy, his fists clenched as his brow furrowed in frustration and some self-loathing. Memories of when Ichigo had become involved in matters that transcended his substitute duties replayed in Toshiro's mind as well, remembering the bittersweet reunion with his once close friend who had possessed the same zanpakutou spirit and eventually…he shook his head. He silently vowed to protect Karin and Yuzu, two of Ichigo's precious people, if only to repay a little of his debt and – though the ice zanpakutou wielder denied it – friendship.

Byakuya looked on dispassionately even as his sister essentially broke down beside him. If his sister and lieutenant weren't lost in their own emotional turmoil, the would have noticed the slight tightening of his grasp on Senbonzakura, the crease of his brow, and the dark glitter of disappointment and fury in his onyx eyes.

Even those who disliked Ichigo, or the way he went about things, seemed to have been affected negatively by the turn of events. Most of all, they – taichou and subordinates alike – were wordlessly grateful and could only bow their heads in silent respect even as a heavy feeling of loss settled over the room.

With heavy hearts and old eyes that'd seen too much already, Yamamoto-soutaichou nodded his head and turned to leave with several able-bodied Shinigami – the war may have been over and they may have lost one of their most vibrant fighters, but those still living needed assistance and medical attention. All that were left were Ichigo's human friends, Rukia, and Renji who could only mourn in the heavy silence.

Ichigo opened his eyes to a bright light then squeezed them shut again, somewhere in the back of his mind snorting at how ironic all this was. But…he was glad he crossed over without any problems and was thankful that his father was right there with him – happy that his father didn't have to have a hand in his passing.

The thought brought a question he had been curious about since he found out about Shinigami and then, ultimately, became one.

Where did Shinigami go when they 'died'?

Once in a while the thought would cross his mind, in the middle of battle when it seemed inevitable he wouldn't see another day, or when he saw a fellow Shinigami who had fought to the end with their broken sword. However, the question, the curiosity, never stayed long because there were other things to worry about – the battle he was in, helping his friends, kicking Aizen's ass – but he guessed he would find out now.

He opened his eyes again when the brightness died down a bit but for a moment, he couldn't understand what he was seeing – if it was real or just some weird side effect of crossing over. But there she was.

The woman he had missed more than anything.

"Mom…" he whispered in disbelief even as the beautiful woman, his mother, started to walk towards him.

Her eyes were watery but she had a bright smile on her lips as she embraced her little boy again, "Oh, Ichigo…" She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him close, her chin resting on his shoulder now that he was taller than her – a physical reminder of how much he had grown.

After a moment, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her just as fiercely, his heart pounding in his chest in surprise and happiness. She felt warm, just like he remembered…

After a long moment, they finally separated but kept within arms length of each other. Masaki cupped her child's face lovingly, looking up at him with tearful eyes, "You've grown up so well, Ichigo…" she murmured fondly.

"Mom…" Ichigo whispered, still unsure if this was a dream or illusion, but he leaned into his mothers touch just the same.

For a moment, all Ichigo could focus on was his mothers face, delicate with high cheekbones and lips that formed beautiful smiles. Her hair was just like he remembered, long, wavy brunette hair in a low ponytail falling to the small of her back – somehow the origin of his trademark orange hair. Most of all, he looked into her kind, teary eyes, the same warm brown like his own.

"My sweet little boy…" Masaki quietly said with a thick voice, her smile wavering as she tried to hold back her tears, "You can't stay." She said finally.

The words rung in Ichigo's ears in confusion, "What?...why? Aren't I-"

He was silenced when she gave him another smile, "It's not your time, sweetheart. Your father and sisters need you as well as your friends."

He gently gripped her arms, more to reassure him that this was all real and happening than anything. "But…what? Aren't I dead? And what about you? Mom, I can't-"

"Shh, honey, it's alright." She whispered lovingly with a reassuring smile, "You can go back and you need to, for them. No one in the Real World or Soul Society is ready to lose you and there's so much more that you can do to make things better." Ichigo opened his mouth to say something but was silenced when she shook her head, "It's alright, Ichigo. I've never really been alone, I've always been with my family – with you, your father, and your sisters."

It hurt Masaki to see her son struggling with her words, the anguish in finally seeing his mother then leaving her almost overwhelming in his eyes. But, after a moment, he took a deep, slightly shaky breath and said, "I'm sorry…"

Masaki's eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, "Sorry? For what, sweetheart?"

Ichigo lowered his head, still in his mothers hands, and squeezed his eyes shut, "I'm so sorry, mom…I couldn't protect you…" he opened his eyes and Masaki's heart ached from the raw pain and self-hatred in them, "Because of me…you died because of me."

It was quiet for a moment before a sharp sound was heard. Ichigo could only stare to the side in shock, his wide, confused eyes slowly turning back to his mother. Her hand was still outstretched from when she slapped him but her head was down with her hair shadowing her eyes. "Don't…" she whispered. She looked up at her son with fierce eyes burning with passion, "Don't you ever blame yourself for what I did, what I chose to do and would do all over again. You didn't do anything, Ichigo, a hollow killed me," he visibly flinched at her words, their sting more painful than the one on his cheek, "not my little boy."

"But-" he started, but was forced to look into his mothers eyes when she cradled his face in her hands and looked straight into his.

"I don't and will never regret protecting my child and neither should you." she suddenly said. Her intense brown eyes stared defiantly back at her sons', "And if I we were in that situation ever again, I'd still protect you, because you are my son and I love you and no one will hurt my children, especially not in front of me."

Once again, Ichigo was struck by how alike he and his mother were, which brought another wave of pride in being her son accompanied by sadness from not being able to grow up with her. Suddenly, the heavy weight he felt on his chest, the weight he had carried since that terrible day, lightened. It wasn't completely gone, and probably never would be, but it wasn't as unbearable.

His mother must have seen the understanding lighten his eyes and smiled softly, "I love you, Ichigo, and I'm so proud of you." She started to tear up again, gaining a warm and thankful smile from her son, "I'll always be with you, your father, and your sisters, and when it's your time, I'll be waiting." She gave him another fierce hug. "I promise."

Ichigo could only nod, his throat constricting a bit for the first time in a long time. He managed a thick, "Love you too mom…" before everything went white again, the lingering touch of his mothers hand on his cheek slowly fading even when her warmth still lingered…

A horrible crack resounded in the spacious room, the sharp sound echoing in everyone's ears. Isshin and Ichigo's friends flinched as the noise, as if it physically struck them.

'Sorry Zangetsu-ossan, Shirosaki, but we can't leave just yet…'

A moment passed and both smirked in reply.

Isshin swore his heart stopped in his chest when he felt a very slight flicker of reiatsu from his son's body – if his own reiatsu wasn't so depleted, he would never have noticed. His breath caught in his throat as desperate hope clawed it's way into his heart. Was his blood-deprived mind playing tricks on him? Was this some kind of punishment for the years and years of secrecy and ultimate failure? Isshin wasn't sure if he could survive having his son ripped away from him again.

Another flicker of reiatsu brushed against his tired senses and stayed, glowing slightly like the slow burn of a small candle. Disbelief and something indescribable swelled in his chest and he turned back to watch his son's peaceful face. Behind him, Ichigo's friends quieted their tears and looked up with bewildered, hopeful expressions.

Rukia almost fell to her knees – and would have if Renji didn't have a good grip on her arm – from lightheadedness. "Ichigo…" she breathed. She couldn't decide if she was delirious from blood loss or just hallucinating from the one of the fraccions last attacks, but she smiled nonetheless. Orihime gripped Chad and Ishida's arms for support, watching with renewed hope and tears as the two other teens did the same.

Renji grit his teeth, preparing himself for disappointment, and snapped his head over to his friends body only to do the same as Rukia and just stare. "Holy…" he muttered. The smile turned into a grin that threatened to split his face in half.

Isshin's posture went rigid, the grip on his zanpakutou almost painful as his knuckles turned white. It couldn't be. He'd felt his son's reiatsu disappear, saw the peaceful expression on his face that could only be achieved by death…it wasn't possible. From the corner of his eye, he could see the tip of Zangetsu, and lost his breath when he saw that the cracks in the metal were slowly mending, healing.

For the briefest moment, he could've sworn he'd felt the presence of his loving wife before his son opened his eyes.

It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to friggin' think.

What the hell had he done to get so banged up this time? Did he just let Kenpachi skewer him a few dozen times? Or did each Shinigami in Sereitei grab a stick and start beating him while he was unconscious? It certainly felt that way. Ichigo would've groaned in pain if he didn't know from experience that that only made things worse, but he still wanted to. What-

Oh.

Then he remembered. Storming Las Noches. Beating Aizen. His father holding him. Dying. His mother's beautiful face. Her tears. Their promise.

No wonder why he felt like crap. He just died. As a Shinigami. What the hell? He internally grumbled – why couldn't his wounds be healed too? Seriously, after basically saving the world, he still had to deal with recovery? That sucked.

A small almost imperceptible smile graced his lips. He couldn't really complain…too much; he got another chance at life.

He could vaguely hear a commotion around him as his reiatsu flooded through his body in a roar, giving him strength and awareness. Even without feeling the blade, Ichigo could sense his zanpakutou healing as well, the cracks in his soul slowly disappearing in tandem with Zangetsu. Soon, his reiatsu was accompanied by multiple, noticeably weaker, spiritual energies that he recognized almost immediately – all of his human friends, Rukia, and Renji were here. Relief welled in his chest – one of his biggest fears since becoming a Shinigami was that his influence would get his friends killed someday.

He held in a sigh, deciding that just laying there wouldn't exactly speed up his recovery time – that and Rukia would probably beat him senseless till he woke up, no matter how injured he was or how ridiculous her reasoning would be.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was his father's disbelieving face. He looked terrible – though Ichigo probably looked worse – with his unshaved beard and sad, sad eyes that didn't belong on such an irritatingly hyperactive person. Were those tear marks on his face?

The silence that accompanied his awakening was really starting to wear on his nerves, especially the stares that he could feel burning new holes into his shihakusho. "Hey pops…" his hoarse voice echoed in the room, "you need a shave."

And the damn broke.

Unohana-taichou, with some strange psychic ability, had shunpoed to him almost immediately and started to heal his major injuries – which still hurt a lot, ow, and that rough handling wasn't making it better, Unohana-taichou! – until she was satisfied that he wouldn't die. Again. While everyone in the background either laughed in relief or at his situation – which, personally, Ichigo thought the latter was more likely since his friends were just a bunch of utter jerks sometimes. She stepped back and as soon as Ichigo was able to struggle into a sitting position, his father was hugging the life out of him – which Unohana-taichou was nice enough to make sure didn't happen so stop squeezing so hard, I can't breathe damn Goat Man!

By now, his friends had cleared out of the room to help look for survivors, take prisoners, and secure the area, leaving Ichigo still gasping in his father's death grip of love. They knew that despite their relief Isshin needed some time – they'd make up for it later. The younger Kurosaki was quietly grateful for the privacy and decided not to brag too much at Renji and Ishida about his victory and saving their sorry asses – as long as they didn't retaliate with any daddy's boy comments otherwise it was on.

"Gah, dad!" Ichigo complained, wincing as his fathers grip only seemed to tighten at his words, "You're choking me to death! I don't think Unohana-taichou would appreciate more work." On the contrary, she'd probably find this amusing if a little tiresome.

After another moment, Isshin finally pulled back – to Ichigo's slight embarrassment and horror – with tears in his eyes, "Ichigo…I'm so glad you're okay. I thought I lost you, son." He still looked so heartbroken that the younger Kurosaki felt his heart bleed a little. No parent wanted to see their child die.

Ichigo's eyes softened in understanding, his usual expression lightened by the small smile on his face, "Sorry."

He was abruptly pulled back into his father's arms and this time he didn't complain. He used his free, slightly less uninjured arm to sling around Isshin's back and buried his face in his dad's shihakusho. Feeling his father's warmth and solidity, the tight knot in his chest slowly loosened as the tears finally, silently fell. The terror and aching loneliness that had hidden away in his heart came rushing forth almost chokingly – knowing that he was going to die was different that actually dying. There was no shame in fear because he was willing to die for his friends; it was just the fact that no one was ready to die, even him.

Long moments passed, father and son gripping each other tightly for reassurances and support as their fought to reign in their composure again. When their tears finally dried, Ichigo mumbled, "Mom says hi." He wasn't sure if his father understood what he said until the man pulled him a little closer and felt the smile through his black kimono.

They pulled away at the same time and gave gruff coughs, looking away awkwardly form the touchy-feely moment before Isshin muttered, "We should probably help with finding survivors and setting up a few recovery camps."

Ichigo coughed in his fist and nodded, "Right. Let's go." Using Zangetsu, who shined proudly in the streaming light, he supported most of his weight and stumbled clumsily to his feet. He cursed under his breath, "Injuries really suck."

Isshin chuckled and replied, "Then you should try to avoid them more often, my impulsive boy." He wasn't sure if the irritated scowl was for his attempt to help his son stand or the 'boy' comment. With a chuckle, he figured it was a little of both, avoiding a sloppy right hook and a scathing 'damn Goat Man!' comment. With some reluctance, Ichigo allowed his father to help support his weight with his arm around the older mans shoulder. He would not, however, let him touch Zangetsu. That was a big no-no.

Outside, Shinigami of all ranks scurried around, lifting rubble from deceased or severely injured Shinigami while others – most likely the Fourth Division members – tended to the wounded with medical kits and healing reiatsu.

"Kurosaki?" a young voice demanded, surprise and slight suspicion coloring his usually reserved tone. Both Kurosaki men turned to see a wary Hitsugaya watching them carefully, assessing them with his sharp eyes.

Ichigo smirked tiredly and nodded to him, "Yo, Toshiro." He was a bit surprised when the other didn't correct him. If fact, the young captain seemed to be relieved.

Almost as if just saying his name, multiple Shinigami looked his way, staring and whispering to each other animatedly. It must've spread pretty quickly that Kurosaki Ichigo had died killing Aizen – it was worse than high school gossip. The ice captain looked him over once more, nodding to himself in confirmation, and jerked his head, "Follow me. The captains and lieutenants are having an emergency meeting to deicide what to do here on out." A familiar smirk made it's way onto the stoic captains lips, "Think you can make it, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo scowled challengingly in return, pulling away from his amused and worried father, and narrowed his eyes, "Bring it on."

Author's Note: I know right? I actually made a happy ending! Lol, I hope you guys liked it :D It took me a YEAR to write it! That's how terrible I am at happy endings XD The ending seems cut off but it's not a big deal, they just want a report on why Ichigo is still alive and how he killed Aizen and all that :D THANKS FOR READING! Reviews are nice :3

Sorry for any grammar mistakes or mistakes in general, I was so excited to finally almost finish that I kinda skimmed over the whole thing only a few times so I probably didn't catch all the awkward phrasing :DDD