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Chapter Text

As he lay bleeding on the ground, Yhwachs broken and mutilated corpse laid out in front of him, Ichigo allowed himself a chuckle of grim satisfaction. No fight had ever been this personal to him, not since the grand fisher and his mother. Never had he truly wanted someone dead so badly, not since he fought against Ginjo. This war had gone on too long, and Ichigo was tired.

He could see his legs, which had been unceremoniously cut off right below his hips at the very end of the fight, now nothing but a pile of meat waiting to rot in this crumbling world. The fight had been won, but the cost was far too great. All the realms were destroyed, barely any survivors remained - his sisters were not among them. The idleness of his mind eventually wandered to the one person still by his side, Zangetsu. Through thick and thin, despite being destroyed and lost, the blade was still at his side.

It was in a sorry state though, the edge was blunted, worn from having fought for days against something that he couldn't fully cut. That was also ignoring the fact that the edge had been ripped clean off the spine of his sword, the spine which was now warped and twisted, and impaling the quincy king to the crumbling ground like a grotesque crucifix.

The hogyoku, the accursed abomination of an artifact that had drawn Ichigo into this war in the first place, lay nestled in the withered and malformed excuse of a hand that remained. He reached into his mind one last time, wanting to bask in the memory of his long time partner before the end took him.

“Zangetsu… can you… hear me?” He called out, his hope faint, knowing how fragmented and destroyed his bankai was. He was surprised to even see the zanpakuto spirit form before him, let alone see that he was mostly unharmed.

“Oi, king, looks like you really gave it your all huh? Even though you know we hate it when you do.” The spirit took a step forward, walking through the flooded world they were in, treating the water as if it was air. “It still hasn't stopped raining in this world… You've won! Chin up! When will you get it through your head that it's all over now?!”

Ichigo just lets the words wash over him, a dry chuckle rising from his throat as he floats idly in the water of his mind. “It's truly over Zangetsu… for me at least… no matter how much I use the hogyoku, I can't wish my way out of this. I'm too tired, I can barely even muster up the strength to talk to you… which is why I want you, at least you, to keep on living. I want to have saved at least one person I truly cared about.”

Ichigo retreated from his inner world, even as he began to feel zangetsu thrashing inside his mind, trying to take over and stop what was happening. Ichigo wouldn't let him, he needed this, to have his life mean something in the end. With a huff, and a clenching of his hand around the hogyoku, the blasted thing that would be better off destroyed, he summoned up his final scraps of reiatsu to impart his will on the sphere.

Zangetsu materialized in front of Ichigo, an awestruck look on his face as he stared down at his near dead wielder. Ichigo could only offer a weak smile in return. What else could he do, now that Zangetsu was no longer bound to him. “Goodbye, Zangetsu… keep on living… in the next world.”

With those last few words, Ichigo closed his eyes, and let the darkness of unconsciousness take him. He wasn't dead just yet, but with the amount of blood he was losing, it was only a matter of time. The hogyoku fell out of his slack hand, hitting the ground and rolling to the zanpakutos feet.

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Jaune Arc, a fool, someone who had greatness running in his family bloodline. He was born for greatness after all, born to be a hero, and so he had struck out, hoping to make it to Vale in time to apply for Beacon. He'd managed to save up enough money to get a trip there, and he'd probably need some transcripts too….. Was there an entrance test? Gods, he'd really be screwed if he had to prove his skills in an actual huntsman test, wouldn't he?

Destiny had finally come knocking, with a group of three beowolves currently on his tail. This was his chance, wasn't it? His chance to actually do the things a huntsman was supposed to do. But he couldn't fight, he didn't even know how to swing his sword right! And these grimm were definitely not going to give him room to breathe and fight them one on one.

That was when he saw it in the corner of his eye, a cave. One that looked barely large enough for him to fit inside, let alone these huge beowolves. Turning his run into a dive, he hit the ground inside the cave, quickly standing up and facing the cave entrance with his shield, even as the beowolves tried to claw and squeeze their way in. He could feel the fear thrumming in his veins as he took his first slash, his sword cutting into the grimms' flesh, but doing naught but cosmetic damage.

“Come on, come on….. just die already.” He lashed out again, his swings getting more desperate as he landed a more proper blow on its shoulder, nearly hacking one of its arms off. The beowolf just howled, and redoubled its efforts to breach the cave entrance, managing to slip inside just as Jaune finally stabbed it through the chest.

He took a breath, his heart pounding, not ready for when the second beowolf managed to make it inside the cave, snapping its jaws and cutting up his leg with a swipe of its claws. He fell back with a scream, landing on his butt and scooting away as fast as he could, clumsily keeping his shield between himself and the claws of the lupine grimm. He kept backing up, doing his best to slowly wear down the beowolf with the occasional amateur swing, his sword more often than not glancing off its bone mask due to his lacking strength.

He feels his back hit a smooth yet flat wall, a gasp running through him as the beowolf pounces, pinning him. With a desperate look behind himself, he sees what he ran into, a large, dimly glowing crystal. One that contained a young girl, who looked like she'd been frozen in time. Turning his attention back to the beowolf, Jaune screams desperately, making his strongest stab yet, managing to run the beowolf through….. only to be pounced upon by the third and final beowolf as he struggles to pull his sword out, his right arm clamped between its jaws as he's ragdolled around, flesh and muscle being torn by the shadowy monster that had been chasing him.

In his final moments, Jaune realizes… being a hero feels kinda bad…. Especially when he leaves the work undone. He only hopes that the girl in the crystal manages to live somehow, or that she died peacefully before being encased.

That is, until the beowolf suddenly gets cut to pieces before his eyes, a figure in white and black robes staring down at him. One eye was a regular blue, a slightly deeper shade than Jaunes’ own, but still quite normal. The other eye looked like a grimms, a deep black sclera surrounding a golden iris. The stranger blinks at Jaune, looking him over once, before Jaune feels his consciousness leave him, head hitting the ground even as he hears the muffled sound of words.

Chapter Text

Jaune woke with a start, his arm throbbing, a scream ripping itself out of his throat as he bolted upright, clutching his injured limb. He was panicked, memory failing, snippets of what was and what should have been flashing just behind his squeezed shut eyelids. That black and gold eye, more baleful than any of the grimm he'd been chased by, yet also more intelligent, more conniving, more purposeful in its hatred. He shuddered, screams finally dropping to a whimper as he managed to crack his eyes open enough to look around.

He was still in the cave, the girl still trapped in the faintly glowing crystal, but his hoodie was missing, now wrapped around his arm as a makeshift bandage, soaked through by his blood. Wait… wasn't… wasn't that his arm over there, or a part of it at least, just torn off and laying on the ground? His eyes wandered to his injured limb, denial frothing up to the forefront of his mind as he took in the extent of his injuries.

It was gone. From his elbow up, arm was gone. Jaune wanted to scream, to cry out about the unfairness of it all. He knew it wasn't, the darkest parts of his heart were telling him this was his just deserts for trying to do this without being trained properly.

With an almost herculean effort, he leaned back against the crystal, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself. Even now, the phantom pain of his arm being ripped apart in that beowolf's mouth echoed through him. That was when he noticed that the white cloaked figure was back again, his glowing golden eye the only part of the shadowed silhouette that was visible clear as day. In his haste at waking up, Jaune hadn't even realized that it had become night, or that he'd been unconscious for quite a while longer than he'd expected.

“So then, you've survived enough to not be in danger anymore?” He heard the white cloaked figure pausit, almost as though he had been expected to die from his wounds. “Forgive the lack of your arm, you would have lost it even if the bone stayed connected. You're quite lucky it wasn't your neck that was torn to shreds.”

Jaune flinched, hearing how close he was to dying being said so bluntly, so normally, as if it was nothing more than an afterthought, was horrifying. More than anything, this man, this strange and pale figure was scary, unlike any grimm, he was dangerous. Jaune’s every instinct was telling him to run, to just get out of this cave even if he had to run past him. Instead, he summoned what little false bravado he had, and spoke. “Soooo, why did you save me? If keeping me alive was such a pain?”

He winces the second the words finish leaving his mouth, knowing full well how accusatory, how prickly they come across. But, the eye that fixates upon him this time is the blue one, the cold one, the one that regards him as nothing but a passing speck of dust.

“Because my charge would not like it if I simply let you die. To me, she is all that matters, but she is far too soft to leave the world alone.” The pale figure points above Jaune's head, towards the young girl in the crystal. Jaune was now even more confused, how would she even know if he had been allowed to die, wasn't she already dead, trapped in a crystal like that?

“You saved me because… she'd be disappointed if you didn't?” Jaune asks hesitantly, another wince visible in his eyes as he stares at the white cloaked figure again. He does notice something strange though, how the white cloaked figure's hand is always resting on the pommel of that black katana. A normal katana without a sheathe. To Jaune, not having a sheathe seemed unreasonable, even he knew enough about swords to know you needed sheathe to carry one around comfortably.

“Like I said, she cares too much.” Jaune chose not to pry any further, and turned his head away, looking again at the girl suspended in the crystal behind him. She almost seemed at peace looking like that, if it weren't for the slight strain in her eyes, and the subtle tenseness that he could recognize from having seven sisters. With a huff, Jaune lifted himself to his feet, and placed his only good hand on the crystal.

“What happened to her? I mean, why is she in this crystal? Shouldn't she be outside if she was going to be disappointed?” Maybe this cloaked guy isn't so bad, Jaune thought to himself, his posture relaxing slightly, if still tense to keep his focus off the pain. Seeing how slowly the cloaked figure got up did make him second guess some things, like how strong he really was, or how he even used a sword that small to cut up grimm.

“She almost died, thus I saved her. I couldn't save all of her, so I salvaged what I could to ensure she could live.” The cloaked figure stood beside Jaune, and up close, he was definitely tall, although not as tall as Jaune himself. He was slight of build, but every single visible portion of his body was wrapped in coiled muscle. The side of this head with that eerie black and gold eye also had a long white horn, was truly unnatural in its shape, bordering on demonic even if those grimm were any comparison.

“I'm Jaune. I'm uhhh….. I wanted to become a huntsman, but I never got to learn anything because people told me I had no talent.” Jaune didn't know why he was suddenly telling his life story to this dangerous looking stranger, but he just kept talking. “I was, on my way to Vale, to apply to Beacon academy so I could learn, but I guess my journey ends here, missing an arm.”

The pale figure's eternally stoic and calm face finally seems to crack, a manic smile adorning his face. “Well, kid. I guess we just need to make you the best one-armed fighter there is.”

“W-wha..? What are you talking about?” Jaune asks, stumbling backwards, caught by surprise at the concept of being trained into a one armed warrior. He was starting to get scared, back to the crystal as he saw the increasingly manic look on the cloaked figure's face.

“You survived, meaning you have enough instinct to stay alive if I push you.” The chuckling was starting to get maniacal, with the pale figure drawing his sword and swinging it out into the night air, buffeting Jaune with the biting cold of the wind. “You were never bad at fighting, they just never taught you right.”

The pale figure looks at Jaune, both eyes focusing on him equally. “I will train you, and in exchange, you will protect my ward. I will watch from the side, to make sure you can, but my appearance is… not accepted in these parts.”

The sudden return of calmness was throwing Jaune off, almost like he was talking to two different people. He gulped, his hand once again clutching his stump as he looked at the pale figure in growing dread. “W-what do I call you?”

“My name, is-”

Chapter Text

Zangetsu, for the first time in his life, was annoyed. He wasn't teaching that idiot Ichigo how to be aggressive, how to wield his zanpakuto. No, he was currently trying to instill combat instinct into a bumbling farm boy. A bumbling farm boy, who, despite being analytical and quite savvy at picking up techniques and making plans, was utterly atrocious when it came to fighting on pure instinct.

He swung down with his stick once more, watching as the boy before him dodged and flailed, his leg getting clipped across the ankle. It was needlessly boring, Zangetsu realized, trying to make Jaune Arc worth anything as a warrior. His thoughts began to wander, even as he swung again, a horizontal slash this time. He thought nothing of it, until he felt his sword veer off course ever so slightly, his gaze flicking down to see Jaune in some sort of strange guard, deflecting his swing.

There it was, the instinct to stay alive, to not feel pain, the desire to not die. Zangetsu could feel the grin splitting his face, even as his more instinctual side started to come to the forefront. He was trying his hardest to stay stoic, to not lose himself in the battle-lust, but to see a failure tap into that inner instinct only made his own instincts flare up. Slightly faster now, he swung at a diagonal, aiming his blow for Jaune’s good shoulder, trying to make the hit at least bruise.

He could see the indecision in Jaune’s eyes, the way the boy didn’t react for a moment, before suddenly throwing himself to the ground. A cry ripped itself from his throat as he landed on his useless stump of an arm, dropping his sword and clutching his still healing injury.

“And here I thought you were finally starting to get it, was that deflection really just a fluke?” Zangetsu taunted, waving the tip of his stick in the air. His annoyance was steadily growing, the swings of his stick getting wilder with each passing moment. “You showed so much promise when your life was on the line, do I need to push you that far to wake up your instinct?!” He roared, bringing his stock down in a final downswing.

Which is why Zangetsu was surprised when Jaune Arc managed to parry his blow, nearly managing to counter him, desperation in his eyes. His face shifted from confusion to a feral grin, gazing down at the blond haired farmer. “So that’s what it took to wake you up.”

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Jaune was dying..... figuratively. For the last week he had been worked to the bone by his new master, or teacher, or personal trainer. He didn’t know, Zangetsu was an obtuse and strange character at best, and completely insane at his worst. But he was definitely good at helping him learn how to fight. After that first day, he’d been forcing Jaune to do nothing but sparring with Crocea Mors.

It was an experience, to say the least, and not one Jaune was willing to say was useless… but seriously, when was he going to actually learn how to swing a sword? So far, all he’d learnt was how to not get hit and how to use his sword to catch another sword. But he was getting more muscular, and he was starting to see how the sword moved, how it cut, he could feel where the strike was aimed, so maybe that was progress?

Then there were the major issues. The time he had to apply to Beacon was slowly slipping between his fingers. Well, even if he did manage to apply, Crocea Mors was beyond repair now, the last week of non-stop sparring, it was so nicked, blunted and warped, it probably couldn’t even be called a sword anymore.

Jaune felt somewhat disheartened, seeing a precious relic like his family sword being in such a state. When he’d gone to Zangetsu about it the day before, the pale and uncaring man seemed almost... dismissive? Like the loss of a family relic wasn’t all that big a deal. ‘That just means it’s finally served its purpose as a weapon,’ he’d said, as though the heirloom was just a weapon.

With a sigh, Jaune finally picked himself up off the ground, his fully finished bowl of stew laid on the ground, ready to be washed in the river. Another of the swordsman’s lessons: ‘you have lost an arm, so you need to be able to live without it’. Like that was any consolation to him trying to get into beacon in just under a month.

His grumbling continued, until he felt the phantom pain in his useless stub of an arm, biting back a yelp so as to not alert any of the nearby wildlife, or the grimm. Although, with how much hatred and malice Zangetsu seemed to have, it was a wonder they weren’t overrun yet.

As Jaune reached the nearby river, he saw Zangetsu seated on a rock in the center, his own immaculate blade laid across his legs as he seemed to meditate. With great difficulty, Jaune started washing his bowl in the flowing water, trying to not let it or the spoon slip out of his grasp and float away downstream. He’d already lost a couple bowls that way, and each time the pale swordsman had looked at him with disappointment.

With a final gasp of frustration, Jaune managed to finish cleaning the bowl, his left hand considerably sore after the past week of non-stop training and trying to learn how to use it. As he looked up from his frustrating task, he saw that horrible black and gold eye staring at him, through him, as though his being was nothing but glass.

“This scroll of yours, you were following it to find out where Vale is, correct?” Zangetsu asks, his body still in its meditative position. His single horn almost seemed to consume the very light of the morning, casting the left side of his face in a dark shadow. “We will start moving today, and keep up your training on the road. It also means we will need to find a town to rest in the meanwhile.”

This statement threw off Jaune, who just tilted his head at Zangetsu. “Wait, you mean we need to stay indoors, after training out here for this whole time? Why can’t we just take the shortest route to Vale?” He knew he was sounding arrogant right now, the river was important, as were the wild animals and vegetables they were able to use for food.

“Because you will not be the only child who will need to partake in this journey. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hurt your feelings, young hero~?” The sudden swap between the stoic and calm side and the almost feral other caught Jaune off guard, not expecting that sort of trigger for him.

“But who....?”

“Who else kiddo? My ward of course. I just gotta wake her up from her long nap.” Zangetsu nimbly hopped off the rock he was sitting on, covering over 20 meters with that almost nonchalant flick of his ankle. “We’re waking up my little strawberry.”

Chapter Text

Jaune Arc was usable, were Zangetsu's honest thoughts as he led the boy back to the cave. He hadn't been expecting much when he'd seen the boy get used as a chew toy by that wolf-like creature, but this past week had confirmed his suspicions, the boy had instinct. Instincts that were suppressed under years of mundanity and disuse, but they were there, just waiting to wake up.

What was irritating was how melancholic the boy felt over just a hunk of metal. His ancestor would have wanted that blade to see its end in the service of a warrior, and it had, just as he had seen his own end as a blade in the final battle against a near deific Yhwach. Blades were made to be used, and an old blade like Jaune's was one that had fulfilled its duty, even worse that the sheathe/shield had received more love than the blade.

As the sun crested the mountain, and its full circular radiance shone upon them both, they both finally made it back to the cave. The dull glow of the crystal that held Ichigo was reaching the mouth of the cave. With a reverent hand, Zangetsu reached his hand out, his own dark energy flowing from his fingertips, eating up the light she gave off. When his fingers touched that crystalline surface, it crumbled away, slowly eroding the crystal until Ichigo was finally bared to the world once more. He was so caught up in the moment, he didn't even realize Ichigo was falling from the crystal, not until he heard Jaune grunt with effort, catching her with one arm.

“Hey, mister Zangetsu, what the hell was that!? Were those grimm flames or something?!” Jaune for his part seemed suddenly distrusting, his stump already facing Zangetsu as his good arm held a still sleeping Ichigo over his shoulder. Good, that amount of suspicion was necessary to protect others.

“Not grimm, nothing so mindless as them. That was but a hint of my soul, the manifestation of my souls’ power.” Zangetsu explained slowly, looking over Jaune to gauge the boy's reaction. Complete shock, mild horror, expected feelings. “The girl in your hands is precious. Do not let her fall into the wrong hands. Protect her with your life. To that end, I shall teach you how to use your own soul, how to forcefully wring it out of your body into its true form.”

Instinct, to battle, to survive, to challenge, that was all that mattered at the end of the day, and Zangetsu would be damned if he didn't drill that into his second student, not like how he failed Ichigo. His silent and unanswered ruminations were cut short by a quiet moaning, and the gentle stirrings of the young girl. Her orange hair was like a veil, reaching the middle of her back, and hiding her face.

Jaune for his part set her down as gently as he could, leaning her against the rock wall. She awoke soon after, her deep brown eyes shooting open, before she clutched her head. “What…. Why do I feel like I was run over by a car?”

Zangetsu's answer came quickly, almost instinctual. “Oi, king, welcome back to the world of the living. You finally have some sense in your head?” It was his standard teasing, the normal way to get Ichigo riled up, but it didn't happen this time. Instead, the young girl seemed to freeze under his gaze, shifting away from him in fear once she started breathing again.

“King?” Jaune asked, his head tilting towards Zangetsu with a quirk of his eyebrow. He seemed even more on guard now, as though he was witnessing some kind of conspiracy that he wasn't party to.

Then the realization hit Zangetsu, Ichigo, as she was now, could sense his full power. Ichigo, as she was now, was also weak, a completely untrained child who couldn't fight even if she wanted to.

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Jaune was currently lending one of his hoodies to the young girl - Ichigo - because her previous clothing of a skirt and t-shirt were definitely not enough for the cold of winter. Due to her size, barely reaching the bottom of Jaune's chest, the hoodie looked more like a dress on her. Not that he'd heard her complain, especially since it was probably warm having a dress that big and fluffy.

They had been on the road for the past two days, with Ichigo staying firmly close to Jaune, and Zangetsu giving them some space. He'd tried prying into why she seemed so scared, but the only answer she'd given was that Zangetsu was too strong to be real.

Jaune didn't know how to feel about that, a girl who was able to feel some sort of unreal strength? That was definitely not on his list of things to find on his way to Beacon, and the idea that Zangetsu was too strong to exist? That was a horrifying thought. What was he then, a god? A demon deity who'd risen up to destroy them all?

He picked himself up from his seated position, and grabbed what was left of Crocea Mors. The blade had definitely seen better days, and was little more than a blunt stick to beat people over the head with now. The scabbard however, was still immaculate, Zangetsu having banned its use since their first day of training.

They'd been on the road for a week now, and Jaune had finally managed to start learning how to swing back. His attacks were still clumsy, and usually went wide or were too slow, but he was making steady progress. Even if it felt useless at times. Every time he improved, Zangetsu only further raised the floor of his teachings, keeping him on his toes, forcibly making him progress, to keep living or die trying.

As he walked up to Zangetsu, ready to start using his sword again, he was stopped by Zangetsu himself, who looked thoughtfully at Jaune.

“You've grown. You now have the bare minimum instinct to be a king, and not a horse.” The swordsman, for once, stepped closer with his sword still on his waist. He walked around Jaune, his blue eye inspecting, dissecting, evaluating. “You are now ready for your first lesson.”

That's when Jaune notices that the same black energy from before was gathering at Zangetsu's fingertips, the edges of the black flames glowing an eerie blue. Zangetsu just held his hand out for Jaune to inspect, as though expecting him to touch the fire. “Go on, touch them, let the power flow through you for but a moment.”

Jaune knew better than to complain or question, and so he planted his sword in the earth, letting his hand bask in the black flame. At first, he felt nothing, but then the pain became excruciating. It was like his entire body was being burned from the inside, as that horrible malevolent power pulsed through his entire body.

He fell to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes even as his hand retracted. He could feel the darkness writhing within him, taking root, changing him.

“Do not lose yourself, remember your training.” He heard Zangetsu whisper, the hetero chromatic gaze holding his own look of both worry and decisiveness. Ichigo seemed to have grabbed his shoulder at some point, and was yelling something at Zangetsu. Jaune couldn't make it out, it was taking everything he had just to not sink into the darkness. Maybe that was what he needed to do, just let the darkness engulf him and fight his way out, to become a monster that chased away even the shadows.

Jaune felt the darkness take him, but compared to the immensity of Zangetsu.... this fight felt winnable.

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When Jaune came to, it was already lunch, and his stomach grumbled angrily. Ichigo seemed to have cozied up to Zangetsu while he was asleep, the young girl looking much more at ease now as she munched on a rabbit leg. The pale swordsman himself seemed rather muted, only watching Jaune warily.

“How do you feel, Jaune? Finally made it through your understanding?”

“Yeah. It was… difficult, trying to fight my way out of the darkness. I'm back now, but I don't think I feel stronger at all.”