Could it be… I was born with some special ability? Ichigo pondered the question as his thoughts ran wild.
But before he could spiral too far, the mysterious man in black—his inner Quincy power—started making things up on the fly.
"Ichigo, a tremendous power sleeps within your body! I am the embodiment of that power… and that power is called: the Power of the Shinigami!"
"Shinigami… power?" Ichigo repeated, still totally lost.
To him, this was nothing less than a full-blown rewrite of his worldview.
The man—"Zangetsu," though he hadn't said his name yet—gave Ichigo a quick rundown of what Shinigami were and their relationship with Hollows.
(Of course, he didn't mention anything about Quincies. That part was conveniently left out.)
Because, frankly, he knew exactly what kind of situation they were in.
Right now, if a Quincy so much as poked their head up, they'd get obliterated instantly.
With Yamamoto and the Gotei 13 watching like hawks, there was zero chance of "revival."
Ichigo fell silent after the explanation, lost in thought.
"…Do you have a name?" Ichigo asked curiously.
Zangetsu adjusted his glasses, answering solemnly, "I am your Zanpakutō. But my name isn't something I can just tell you. Only when you complete your training as a Shinigami will you be able to—"
Before he could finish, Ichigo casually reached out his right hand—
and with zero effort, pulled a Zanpakutō out of the void.
A massive blade with no guard, thick like a cleaver—Zangetsu: Classic Form!
Zangetsu's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"Ababababa… What the hell is this script?! He already summoned his Zanpakutō?! And even unlocked its Shikai?!"
It was too late to hide anything now. He could only bite the bullet and play along.
"I never would've guessed… Ichigo, you're a genius! To unlock your Shikai the moment you receive your Zanpakutō… fine, I'll tell you my name."
With a sigh of resignation, he looked at the blade in Ichigo's hands and said:
"Zangetsu. Just call me Zangetsu."
Ichigo held up the blade with both hands, smiling as he gazed at it.
"Zangetsu, huh? Then I'll call you 'Zangetsu-ossan' from now on!"
The Quincy power blushed through sheer secondhand embarrassment… but accepted the nickname.
Watching Ichigo swing the oversized blade around without the slightest technique, Zangetsu's eyelids twitched nonstop.
"Ahem… Ichigo. That's enough for now. The power of a Shinigami isn't something you can wield without training. I'll find someone to guide you—someone who can teach you how to use that Zanpakutō properly."
Ichigo nodded honestly.
To him, this was all fresh and exciting. A moment ago he was just a normal kid.
Now he had powers straight out of a superhero movie.
He was only 14, after all—still very much a child. It was natural he'd want to play with his new toy.
What shocked Zangetsu even more was that when Ichigo finally stopped, the cleaver-like blade transformed into a basic sealed form—an Asauchi.
Which was impossible.
Zangetsu's face twitched.
He, better than anyone, knew the truth: Ichigo's Zanpakutō wasn't supposed to have an Asauchi form at all.
Why?
Because every Asauchi—the blank template for Shinigami swords—was forged by the legendary bladesmith Ōetsu Nimaiya of the Royal Guard.
They were distributed exclusively to the Gotei 13 and the Shino Academy.
Ichigo had never been to the Soul Society.
So where did his come from?
Zangetsu was deeply disturbed.
Ichigo, however, had no clue what was going on. He simply nodded, full of sincerity:
"I'll do my best to learn."
He never wanted to feel that kind of helplessness again.
The fear of being attacked. The terror of being powerless.
If he had strength—he could protect his family and friends.
Zangetsu nodded in approval. "Then it's settled. Three hours of training each night. For today, you've been through a lot—go rest."
With a swirl of his cloak, he banished Ichigo from his inner world.
As Ichigo vanished, a white figure began to emerge from the shadows beneath Zangetsu's cloak.
"Hey! You bastard! If you're Zangetsu… then what the hell is my name?!"
The voice was sharp, twisted.
From the ground rose a figure identical to Ichigo—except his skin, eyes, and hair were all bleached white.
Zangetsu looked down at him coolly. "Names are just labels. What matters is—where the hell did that Asauchi come from?"
The white Ichigo scoffed. "Tch. How should I know? But whatever. If he's training three hours a night—I want half that time."
Zangetsu went quiet for a moment.
"…Fine. I'll give you half."
White Ichigo blinked in surprise. "You're giving in that easy? Aren't you worried I'll try to take him over?"
Zangetsu smirked.
"Spare me the act. You and I—we're one and the same. That threat might scare others, but not me."
White Ichigo suddenly burst into crazed laughter.
"Hahahahahaha!"
With a final chuckle, he dissolved into spirit particles and vanished beneath Zangetsu's cloak.
"…So it really was that soul fragment," Zangetsu muttered.
(Fun fact: Ichigo's Zanpakutō was forged from his own soul, making this whole Asauchi thing… not technically a bug. Asauchi themselves are soul-forged too.)
Ichigo, of course, was blissfully unaware of the chaos in his inner world.
He lay in bed, wide-eyed with excitement.
After all—who wouldn't be thrilled to wake up one day with superpowers?
It took half the night for him to finally fall asleep.
...
The Next Morning
"Ichigo… Ichigo! Wake up!"
A familiar voice called softly beside his bed.
"…Five more minutes…" Ichigo grumbled, burritoing deeper into the blankets.
Standing at his bedside, Tatsuki sighed in frustration.
She had called his house after last night, worried about him—and learned from Isshin that Ichigo had passed out and been carried home by a strange woman.
Naturally, she rushed over first thing in the morning—only to find the fool sleeping like a log.
Completely carefree…
"ALRIGHT! ENOUGH!" Tatsuki shouted.
She ripped the covers off Ichigo with a loud snap—
and the moment she saw what was under them, her face turned bright red!
With a yelp, she quickly tossed the blanket back over him!
(End of Chapter)
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