Chapter 23: Time ticks forward

Happy 2016 everyone! I know this isnt the most long chapter we've put out, nor the most eventful, but I think what happens by the end of it will leae you all very...intrigued.

Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo and Shounen jump. Fairy tail is owned by Hiro Mashima and weekly shounen magazine. I own NOTHING.

Thanks to Greatkingrat88 once again.

It had been clear to Hinamori Momo, after the first wave of shock and grief had passed, that she had a duty- no, an obligation to become stronger. It is what Erza would have wanted for her- to be the very best she could be. One day Erza would come back; she knew it with the same certainty she knew that the sun would rise in the morning, and she knew with the same certainty that she was innocent, the victim of… something. A conspiracy, terrible luck, whatever it may be. When that time came, when Erza came back, Momo would stand with her, defend her- in a court, or in battle. Because when she did come back, she would stand by her no matter what, even if it meant turning her back on the Gotei.

It was that realization, the grave and grim knowledge that she, too, would accept the label of traitor for her beloved friend, that spurred Momo to move forward. The first few weeks she had simply carried on like a drone, a robot performing one chore after another. Then, after her realization, she had come back with spirit and gusto, throwing herself into her work entirely. In her free time she practiced; she trained her body, her swordplay- it was her weakest suit, which was why she forced Renji to spar with her, because overcoming difficulty is what Erza would do. She studied kido at the most advanced level, learning every little flow of magical energy down to the smallest known decimal, turning every spell inside out, then back again, in the pursuit of mastery.

But after a few years, it became apparent that for all her hard work, she was not Erza. She was not special. She was not that talented or strong. Sure, she was a vice-captain, but… that was not enough. She needed more. One day she might have to take on a captain- or all of them- and the difference between a captain and his second in command was a vast ocean, a million fathoms deep and a million miles across.

She was doing well. Well was not enough. She was strong, she was fast, and she was often praised for her in-depth level of understanding of the mystical arts of kido, hailed by scholars as a fellow scientist in her own right.

But all of it was not nearly enough.

She sought knowledge. She could only train her body so far- she had limits and she knew it. She had to play to her strength, to her affinity for magic. Kido was power, in a way few shinigami even realized- there were few limitations to what a true master could do once she learned how to manipulate it. Kido was bound to arts of binding and destruction both out of necessity and practicality, because its practitioners were soldiers, just like she was… but Kido, in the end, could be so much more. It was magic. Raw power at your fingertips, bendable to your will in any way you wanted, limited only by your concentration and imagination.

She scoured the libraries of the Gotei. She read every book on the subject, cover to cover, ten times over. She made experiments of her own, constructing new spells. It became an obsession, a life's goal in itself, to master magic in its truest sense. All for her, all for Erza Scarlet.

But even then, even with years of research and training with a singular purpose, she began to feel frustrated. She progressed, certainly, but it was slow. Her theoretical forms, her new magic, it was all an imitation of pre-existing magical theory. No matter how she tried, she could not grasp the godlike power she dreamed of. In theory, you could do anything with kido. Yet, Momo could reach out only to an iota of that potential.

The revelation nearly drove her mad. Her work had to have meaning. She had to cross that ocean. If she couldn't, then there was absolutely no meaning to all her work. She would be useless, worthless to Erza- no, she could not allow it. She would not give up. Erza never would.

But then, she found something. At first, she thought it was nothing- a patrol going missing, then coming back later, not even remembering that they had left for the Rukon. It was filed under the kind of oddity that happened every now and then. Combat had a way of wearing at the mind, and stranger things had happened.

But then it happened again, two years later, and it made Momo raise an eyebrow. In her own time, she looked into it. There were similar reports- villages not paying taxes, and warlords doing nothing to pursue it. Shinigami investigating, and going missing or returning without their memories. Looking back into Gotei records, she found it was a trend, small enough to go unnoticed, but consistent and repeating itself- always centered around district forty-six. It was as if there was some force at work there, one that did not want to be found.

It was a long shot, but long shots was all she had. Making up an excuse for a mission, Momo had headed out there, spending nearly a week investigating, asking around. People denied everything, very quickly, which only made her surer she was on to something. Eventually, she one day found her way to a small shed, miles from the closest village. The person living here was nearly mystical, from what little she had been able to gather- barely spoken of at all, and when he was, he was spoken of with reverence and fear.

What she saw when she walked up to the shed- a ramshackle construct, little more than a few planks put over a wind-break, was not quite what she had expected.

From out the door- or rather, the ragged piece of cloth serving as a door- stepped an aging man, with a white, dirty bears, red around the eyes, wearing what looked like a worn sack over his torso as his only piece of clothing, a stump of rope serving as a makeshift belt. He was ugly to look at, his glare malignant, and he seemed for all the world like a drunk or a beggar holed up in a shithole, like a thousand others.

"I'm- I'm sorry," Momo murmured, as she saw him walk her way. "I, er, I must have gotten to the wrong place…"

"Sure as hell did, girl," the old man growled, his voice gravelly and slurred, "yer that shinigami what keeps asking about me, aintcha?"

"About- about you?" Momo stammered. It was hard to imagine- the sort of magicks it would take to erase memories, leaving no trace of kido behind, it would take not only true mastery, but a genial level of skill. This… old, decrepit man, could he really be it?

"Yer not used t'doing this, are ya?" The old man grumbled. "Yer spies are clumsy little fucks, an' I always see 'em comin' ten miles away, but at least they bother tryin' t'seem like they was from around 'ere, like what they was askin' was all nat'ral. You, you barge in 'ere in uniform like you was kickin' down a door-" he burped, and hiccupped, "like you got no idea what you're doin'. An' you don't, do ya?"

"I'm not a spy, no," Momo said defiantly.

"No, you sure ain't," the man said, giving her an examining stare. There was something in his eyes- his face was old, ugly and worn, but his eyes were sharp, a bright blue. "What begs t'question, how'd ya even find me? How ya know I even exist?"

"The trail is there," Momo said. "Little incidents here and there. If you look at it in the reports, there's a pattern, and it leads right here- well, to here or anywhere within fifty miles of here. From there, it's a bit of detective work- and sensing reiatsu." She stared at him, scrutinizing him just like he had scrutinized her. "You have a lot of it, don't you? You hide it well, but it's there, under the surface."

The old man grumbled. "Bloody hell, I been sloppy, ain't I? Stay too long in one place, this is what happens." He shook his head, sounding quite displeased.

"I've been looking for somebody to-"

"We done 'ere," the old man said, and flicked his wrist. Momo could feel it, sailing through the air toward her, at breack-neck speed, a spell…

Quickly, she let her own energies extend. She had but a second, but it was enough- just in time, a web of kido formed in front of her hand, catching the spell before it could connect.

"The hell?" The old man said, narrowing his eyes. "You… caught it. Now that's somethin' else- that ain't happened in four hundred years."

"It's a brilliant design," Momo said, letting herself feel the intricacies of the spell, swirling around in her palm, trying to break free and carry out its effect, "It's a… rune of some sort. A bound spell, constructed to completion before release, which takes an immediate and irreversible effect if it connects. Unless you stop it, of course." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated for a few seconds.

"Judging by the age of the strands of energy, you began spinning it the moment you saw me. With one hand, without the help of a voice, while talking to me. And…" She felt the spell, in her mind viewing it up close, "it's… marvelous, actually. It's like kido, but… if kido was a piece of art. It's so… elegant."

"Bloody right, it's elegant," the old man grumbled. "That there is a memory charm. Art of bindin', only better than wrapping somebody in chains. Hits your mind, and it makes you forget- that one woulda cost you a month of your mind, girl. How'd you even catch it?"

"Oh, that," Momo said, trying to sound effortless. "A simple case of identifying its powering strands, and tying them down with kido of my own. It's a low energy spell, which is very cost efficient- but that also makes it easy to overpower."

"That so," the old man said, staring at her ponderingly, "Well… sorry 'bout this, but now that you're too clever t'charm, I'll hafta kill ya." He sounded disappointed, almost remorseful. "Can't have the Gotei running up my arse. Sorry girl, but-"

"Teach me!" Momo exclaimed. "This is everything I ever wanted- this is true brilliance! I've studied the science, I've learned as much as I thought I could- but this is… it's beyond anything I ever saw. I have to know, sensei! I have to learn!"

"…what?" The old man said, looking at her confusedly. "That what you came for?"

"I'm not here to give your secret up," Momo said hastily. "I- I want to learn, because it's… something else. Because one day, I might have to fight them."

The old man simply stared at her. "I can hear yer heart, y'know. Not hard t'do when ya know the nature of spirit energy- the real nature of it. You ain't lyin', I can tell. But…" He narrowed his eyes. "Who's t'say you deserve to learn from me, eh?"

"Try me." Momo said confidently.

It ended up being quite the event, bringing Orihime back to the Kurosaki residence. She had told Masaki, of course, who had told Isshin, who had reacted in the most typically Isshin way possible. No sooner had they walked in the door before he was there to greet them, as loud and clownish as ever.

"Oh, you poor little girl!" He exclaimed dramatically. "You'll be safe here with us! We'll all look after you, like one big family- ow ow ow Masaki please stop-" he whined, as Masaki held his ear in a firm grip.

"You are scaring her." Masaki said calmly. "Now, I'll let go if you promise to act like a grownup, or at least have the decency to be a man-child somewhere else. She just went through something awful, and she doesn't need this."

"All right, all right…" Isshin muttered. "It's true what they say- love hurts. Especially the parts with nerve endings!"

Masaki shot him a look, and Isshin retreated into the kitchen. Erza sighed to herself. Marriage was about ups and downs, it seemed. For now, her only focus was Orihime. For what Masaki had said, Orihime seemed not scared at all- she looked at the world quite blankly, in a way that was somewhat worrisome.

Masaki went over to Orihime, and took her coat off, simply as she would do for any of her children. "Hello there," she said, her tone soft and quiet. "I am Masaki. How are you?" Orihime didn't reply, and Masaki sighed. "Silly question, of course. Nobody should feel good when they go through that."

"It's all right," Erza said, and took Orihime's hand. "Let's go have a seat inside. Is that okay?"

Orihime nodded.

"I'm Orihime." She said quietly, looking at Masaki. "It's very nice to meet you."

Masaki nodded. "You're welcome here. Go on, go and say hello to Ichigo. Or… well, whatever makes you comfortable.

As Orihime went her way inside, Masaki let out a sigh. "I know you think this sort of thing is difficult, treating people right, but it's no cakewalk for the rest of us. A girl who loses a brother, the one person she had… what do you even say?"

"Perhaps not by reminding her about it." Erza said gently.

"Good grief, yes…" Masaki mumbled. "I'm not used to be the one making these mistakes. Usually, that's Isshin's job."

"I heard that, you heartless woman!" Isshin cried from the kitchen. "Oh, cruel fate! I am conspired against from all sides by ruthless women!"

"Shut up." Erza said absent-mindedly. "It's fine, Masaki. She's strong. She will come back from this. I'll see to it myself."

"You really mean it, don't you?" Masaki said. "Well, you never do anything halfway…"

"HEY!" The loud, indignant cry came from Ichigo, having made his way downstairs, running up to Masaki and Erza in the hallway. "Hey, Erza! Is it true? Is it?"

"Is what?" Erza said confusedly.

"Mom said you were going to move out!" He said angrily, sounding quite upset.

"I let it slip," Masaki said, and sighed. "He didn't take it well."

"You can't leave!" Ichigo cried, almost shouting. "You've always been here! Always!"

Erza looked him in the eye, and said,

"I'm not going away, Ichigo. It's true I'll move out-"

"You can't!" Ichigo said. "It's…" He paused, taking a deep breath, making himself calm down a bit. "It's just not fair, okay…?"

"I'll be close by," Erza said calmly, "and you'll still see me every day. I'm not going far- I'll be just up the street. At least in the block, I promise. I'll still pick you up at school, and I'll still teach you about swords. I promise."

"But-" He interjected, but Erza wouldn't let him.

"She needs me." Erza said. "Orihime doesn't have anyone. Is it fair that you have mom, dad and me, and she has nothing?"

"Who cares about her?!" Ichigo said, his anger flaring up again. "I just want you to be here like before-"

"Ichigo, shush." Masaki said firmly. "What have I said about talking to adults?"

"Um…" Ichigo said. "But it's not-"

"What have I said, Ichigo?" Masaki insisted.

"No shouting. Be polite." Ichigo mumbled.

"That's right." Masaki said, nodding.

"It's fine," Erza said, putting an arm on his shoulder. "You have a mom to look after you, and she doesn't. And like I said… I'll still be here. Just not in this house, not as much as before."

Ichigo grumbled, sounding a little defeated- the boy loved his mother, and wouldn't argue with her for the life of him, but even so he seemed off-put. Sensing that now was one of those time, Erza pulled him into a hug.

"I'll be close." She said firmly, and held him. Slowly, after a little while, he hugged her back. "And I'll still look after you whenever I'm needed. Maybe some time, you could come and have a sleepover. Wouldn't that be something?"

"…I'm too old for sleepowers," Ichigo murmured, and finally broke the hug. "It's just… not fair."

"That's life, Ichigo." Masaki said. "Now, why don't you go say hello to Orihime?"

"Do I have to?" Ichigo said.

"Yes, you do," Erza said. "That, or mommy will give you the stare, and we don't want that, now do we?"

"…you're so mean, auntie," Ichigo murmured, but his tone couldn't be more transparent. He was a little hurt, as a kid might be, but at heart he was still a good boy.

As Ichigo went his way after Orihime, Masaki looked at Erza.

"You know, you do have a way with kids. You can make it work."

"I will." Erza said, and nodded. "I just hope Ichigo doesn't take it too hard."

"Pff, that," Masaki said dismissively. "He's such a big baby sometimes. He'll get over it."

"Meaning he's the second biggest baby in the house?" Erza said, with a grin. Masaki smiled back knowingly.

"I heard that too, you heartless harpies!" Isshin cried from the kitchen.

"Oh, shut up." Masaki said, not unkindly.

"Augh! Foiled again!" Isshin said loudly. "Oh, woe falls upon my house…"

Erza's grin stayed on her face for a while. Orihime had healing to do, but this was a good place to do it.

The sun was shining through the kitchen window of her new apartment, having just risen a couple of hours ago. Orihime was working through her breakfast, while Erza herself was already done- she had eaten right after finishing making it for her and Orihime both. It was simple- a bit of rice, a bit of fruit, a bit of milk; nothing special- if it had been, Erza might well have burnt it. Orihime, being the culinary mystery that she was, probably would not have noticed.

"Did you do your homework?" Erza said, yawning a little. She'd take Orihime to school, then take the bus right to work, just like every day.

"Mmm-hmm." Orihime said, nodding. She had recovered well- it had been over six months since her brother had died, and most of that time had been spent in the Kurosaki residence while they hunted for a new place. She had not forgotten her brother, but… she had moved on. It was good for her.

"I got through math, and Japanese, and geography," Orihime said, as she chewed down a piece of bread.

"Did you finish English as well?" Erza said. She was a sweet girl, she knew, but she was a bit of a scatterbrain, and sometimes she would plain forget.

"Yes, I did," Orihime said. "I'm not that stupid."

"Nobody thinks you're stupid." Erza said reassuringly. "And how's school? Nobody gives you trouble?"

"Sometimes." Orihime said. Seeing Erza's expression, she added, "It's nothing bad, you know. Tatsuki looks out for me. It's just a few taunts here and there. I can handle it."

Hesitantly, Erza nodded. "Sure… but if there is anything, anything at all, just come to me. All right?"

"I will, I will," Orihime said. She was much too sweet to roll her eyes at Erza, but her tone was unmistakable- she was being a fussy worry-wart, and Orihime could take care of herself, and so on.

"Well, good then," Erza said, nodding. "Don't forget your lunch, okay?"

"I won't." Orihime said. "I just wish you'd let me add marmalade to my sushi. It would be so tasty-"

"You can do that at home," Erza said firmly. "At school, you eat proper, strong food. You're a growing girl, and you need the right sustenance."

"Yes, Erza," Orihime said. The not-quite-eye-roll was still there, but Erza was firm on this one- Orihime was an oddball, and that was fine, but she wouldn't compromise on anything that involved good parenting- and that included the right food.

"Good. Let's go, then." Erza said. The two of them got up from the table, and headed out to face the day.

The six months it had taken to find a new place had given Orihime time to heal, and Ichigo plenty of time to adjust- and make friends with Orihime. Despite his initial misgivings, the two of them soon got along- he already knew Tatsuki from karate class, and before long the three of them were close friends, close as could be.

Eventually, Erza had found a place, an apartment just around the corner. It was nothing special; just a couple of rooms plus a kitchen and a bathroom, but it was no more than Orihime and she needed. The time it had taken to get there had allowed for some good practice at child care, under Masaki's careful eye. By the time they moved out, Erza mostly had the hang of it- the trick, it seemed, was to be in a state of constant worry that something was wrong, big or small. She got Orihime's lunches done, she listened to her talk about school, about life; she bullied teachers whenever she heard the smallest word about harassment at school, she helped Orihime with her homework, praised her when she did well, and supported her when she didn't.

It was exhausting. Not like swinging a sword for eight hours straight until your arms felt like jelly, but a constant drain on the mind. To always be worried was enormously stressful, and sometimes Erza wondered how Masaki- or all the billions of mothers on this earth- could possibly do it without having a nervous breakdown every other day. Some probably did. But Erza had a will hard as nails, made of steel and diamonds, and she bore it stoically and with passion at the same time. Because at the end of the day, no matter how hard and stressful it was, it was an amazing feeling- to be depended on, to provide and care, to love and be loved, to guide somebody young and inexperienced and shape them, teaching them the lessons of life.

And teach her, she did. Orihime was a sweet and kind girl, but like too many girls in this country, she was meek and submissive, all too ready to bear abuse- like the bullying she had once had to endure- without retaliation. Erza found that mentality revolting, and resolved to do her utmost to teach her to be strong, to stand up for herself- because she couldn't always be there, because the way of Fairy Tail was not just dependence on others, but the strength to protect yourself and others as well.

It was something else, getting to know somebody this closely. Friends she had had in the soul society, but a daughter… never had she had that close a bond.

She sometimes wondered, as time passed by, if she would one day have to reveal the truth to her- no, when. Keeping secrets from her friends in the old days had hurt, no matter the justification, and she would not repeat that mistake. One day, she would have to fill Orihime in on the secrets of the spiritual life. She had a not insignificant amount of spiritual energy herself, and she would undoubtedly be targeted by hollows at some point- she ought to know.

Ichigo, of course, was an even bigger target. His father a former captain and his mother a high ranking quincy, he was already developing a bank of energy bigger than most shinigami recruits- he would sometimes blaze like a beacon, and more than once she had had to quit a gathering to slay hollows. Yet, his parents insisted on keeping it secret- for whatever reason. Masaki claimed it was to protect him, but Erza suspected both she and Isshin were simply keen to leave that part of their life behind them.

It was a risk. Which was why she would one day tell Orihime.

Only not just yet.

Ichigo lived a good life. His mother loved him, and his father was all right as well, even though he was really embarrassing sometimes. There were times when he thought his mother was too strict, or his father too goofy, but then he remembered the other parents he sometimes saw at school- harsh, demanding, much stricter than his mother ever was, and he reasoned that all things considered, he had it pretty good. He had a mother and a father who loved him, he had good friends to rely on, and if somebody bullied him, he knew how to fight back- and if it got really bad, he'd only have to tell his Auntie and she'd come down on them like a fury.

Life was good, but sometimes… it was odd. Weird. Sometimes he saw people floating around in the air, with chains to their chests and empty looks on their faces. Sometimes they looked old, sometimes they looked young; sometimes they looked normal and sometimes there was blood on them, or injuries…

And whenever he talked about it, his mom quickly shushed him and gave him The Stare, the one that meant he was going to bed without supper and it didn't matter worth a damn that he would be a teenager in a few months, because when mom told you to do something, you did it.

He had memories- vague memories, almost like dreams- of strange things. A riverbank in the rain, when he was little, and a huge, scary monster with a white mask for a face, and his mother using some sort of magic to send it packing. The mere thought of it still gave him chills. He remembered it clearly, but the one time he had asked about it, mom had insisted it was all a dream, and off to bed without supper he was. He had learned that some things, he ought not to ask.

But he still saw them. Ghosts, spirits. Sometimes, they even talked to him. Sometimes, Ichigo felt afraid that he was going mad, that he'd end up in an asylum far away from his family, and so he kept his mouth shut.

He remembered the stories Auntie Erza had told him when he was little. About Princess Crimson, the brave, red-haired knight of war that slew the dragons and fought the monsters and protected the people. He had loved those stories, because his auntie had always told them like she really believed in them. How Crimson had travelled to the faraway kingdom, learned the ways of the knight, protected the realm… how she had been deceived by the corrupt vizier, a greedy, power-hungry man who sought the throne for himself. How he had promised a better place for everyone, only to frame her for murder and have her sent into exile.

At his young age, Ichigo had wondered what happened to Princess Crimson next. Did she come back and kill the vizier, and save the kingdom? But Erza had looked at him strangely, and told him with something different in her voice that no, she remained in exile and that was it. He had wanted a happy ending, but she had told him that sometimes, you didn't get a happy ending.

All of that wouldn't have seemed so strange, except one night, when he was eight, he had seen her. He had seen Princess Crimson. One night, coming through a window with her black kimono, her bright red hair and a sword by her side. She had seen him, and told him to go to bed. Ichigo had obeyed, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. After a few minutes in bed, after he had heard her walk down the stairs, he had snuck down, carefully walking down the stairs one step at a time, keeping as quiet as he could. And he had heard them talk…

"He'll find out eventually," Princess Crimson- Erza?- had said. He was peeking through the doorway, just barely open enough to see. She was standing by their dinner table, where his mom and dad were seated. "It's only a matter of time. He needs to-"

"We talked about this." His mom said. "The answer is still NO. My children will not grow up to become shinigami. You know what they are like-"

"This is not about shinigami and quincy business!" Erza said frustratedly. "Will you protect him his entire life? When he is forty years old, and you are old and grey? Eventually, he will need to protect himself- or he'll end up eaten by a-"

"He's my son!" His mom snapped. "Mine, not yours! I decide what he knows and doesn't, don't you forget it!"

"Honey, please," his dad said quietly. "You'll wake the kids. And… I dunno, maybe she has a point. Look, I know what they're like, better than anyone, but… if Erza says he has power, then I believe it. Maybe…"

"Let me tell you what having power and learning to use it was like for me." Mom said. "Constantly lorded over, constantly harassed to do better, constantly feeling I wasn't good enough. This whole world, spirits, monsters… I don't want that for my children."

"And when a monster comes knocking?" Erza said firmly. "When a monster comes knocking and you're not there?"

"Then you will protect him. Won't you, Erza?"

"I will," Erza said frustratedly, "but-"

"No buts." Mom said firmly. "You will tell him nothing. If you do, I swear I'll…" She trailed off, as if unsure what to threaten with.

"I won't." Erza said resignedly. "But we can't protect him forever. He has power- if you truly want to protect him, then teach him how to use it instead of shielding him."

"This is over." Mom said. "Go to bed now."

"I'm not your kid, you know…" Erza grumbled.

Even now, Ichigo wasn't sure if that was all just a dream. He often told himself that it was. There was no way it could all be real, right? Princess Crimson was just a story.

But no matter how he tried, he couldn't shake the notion that no matter how good and normal life seemed, there was more to it than this. That his mom, his beloved kaa-chan, was hiding something from him.

Or maybe not.

You never know.

Time passes, and in life, only two things are said to be certain- death, and taxation. It was no huge shock to anybody that old Ishida Soken had died- people in his neighbourhood knew him as a grandfather, a man in his sixties, just the kind that might have a stroke or a heart attack and die. His family knew him as a kind and masterful quincy, a natural part of their family, faced with the same dangers as the rest of them- to one day be killed by a hollow.

It was nothing shocking about his death, but Masaki- despite not having seen the man for years, not since she had cut ties with her family- still felt saddened when she got the news. Her old uncle was one of the few good people from her family, a kind and guiding soul who wanted the best for his children- so unlike his wife, entrenched in the past and a staunch purist, filled with the hate and racism that had poisoned the quincies.

He had always been kind to her, although he had done nothing to hinder his family's attempt at controlling her. Even knowing what her family would think, she knew she had to go to his funeral. There was history to face… but not only that, the case of his death was suspicious. Just the day before, there had been a hollow attack of unprecedented scale- and suspiciously focused just on the one location. The official cause might be heart attack, but she had looked at the scene herself- her uncle's dying reiatsu was all over the place, like blood smeared all over a wall, clashing with the vicious negative energies of the hollows. Somebody had killed him. If that somebody could go after the patriarch of the quincy family, one of its strongest members, then they might go after another. It might go after her. It might go after her children.

So it was that, when the day came, Masaki dressed in appropriate funeral attire, and headed out. Alone, of course- this had nothing to do with Isshin, and she didn't need Erza to protect her, and she certainly didn't want her children to see her family. Just as a precaution, though, she had told Erza where she was going. It was not like she expected her family to attack her, but some of them were… unreliable. That was what always creeped her out the most, not only their ideology, so full of hate for all these supposed inferiors, but the fanatical devotion some of them had toward it. You could never feel quite safe around them, never at ease.

The ceremony, a private affair attended only by family members, was a grim affair, even for a funeral. More than a few angry scowls were sent her way as she entered the room in the quincy manor where it was held- she had, of course, not been invited- but nobody would interrupt the eulogies, one quincy after the next saying their praises to the late patriarch of their clan. Never mind that his soft stance had been considered a sign of weakness, or that she knew several of the pure-blood quincies, as they fancied themselves, had considered him an old fool. In death, he was worthy only of respect, no matter what scorn there had been toward him in life. It was two-faced, hypocritical and inconsistent, but in this matter, at least, they were quite similar to any human being on this world.

Afterward, despite wanting only to leave, Masaki lingered. Luckily, Ryuken found her before any of the others did, and walked her outside, to the garden where she had once played as a child. He didn't say a word, even when they stopped outside, staring out into nothing.

"So…" She began. "Um. Sorry for your loss."

The words seemed so generic, insincere, but she really was- Ryuken was a cold and difficult man at times, but he had never seemed to take to his mother's ideas, not the way she wanted him to.

"Been a while, hasn't it?" Ryuken said. His voice was calm, in control, and if Masaki hadn't known him the way she did, she would have thought his father's death had left him cold. But she noticed it, the smallest tremble in his voice, the way he fumbled slightly when he pulled out a cigarette, the way he didn't bother to ask if it was all right if he smoked- little telltale signs that told her that, in his own way, he too grieved.

"It sure has," Masaki mumbled, not quite sure what to say. More than twelve years had passed since she had disgraced the quincy name by finding happiness and freedom on her own. "Too long…"

"You don't really mean that." Ryuken said bluntly. "You hate this family."

"I don't-" Masaki protested.

"You are right to." Ryuken said plainly. "They are awful, ignorant and stupid people, and if everything they believed in died, nobody would be worse off for it."

"You don't mean that…" Masaki said lamely.

"Yes, I do," Ryuken said matter-of-factly. He took a puff on his cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Funny how things turn out, isn't it?" He said, staring out into space. "I was supposed to be the next patriarch of the last of the quincies, leading us through troubled times and setting us on the road to restoring our once-great civilization and the might and purity for which it stands." There was a clear shade of distaste in his voice, leaving no room to the imagination for what he thought of 'might' and 'purity'.

"And you were supposed to be my loving, obedient wife, churning out beautiful, genetically deficient babies by the dozen. Quincies all, of course, indoctrinated to be just as bitter and resentful as mother."

"Ryuken…" Masaki said. She was surprised- she had never known he had despised his family so much. He had always gone along with his mother's wishes- never eagerly, but obediently still. What had changed?

As if reading her mind, he continued,

"Mother wanted a leader, somebody pure. Of course, just like everyone else with a brain, she learned that life is sad, full of disappointments, and not always getting what you want is the least of it. It… was you, in the end. I can't say I was ever enthusiastic about the genetically deficient babies part, but… I missed you."

"I- you should have said something!" Masaki exclaimed, keeping her tone shushed. "All this time, I thought you… that you-"

"Were running mother's errands, yes?" Ryuken said sardonically. "I do not blame you. The whole strong, quiet male nonsense got pretty ingrained into me. But if you think you were a disappointment, imagine how they reacted when I told them I was done with their petty, narrow-minded way of life and that I'll live as a civilian." Just briefly, a small grin crossed his face, gone in an instant. "Now there was a family row for the ages." He paused. "I'm… not a great person, Masaki. I'm stubborn, I'm detached, and I am probably a pretty bad father to my boy. But even so, he'll have his freedom. He learned the ways of the quincy from his grandfather- I didn't let anyone else near him."

"Will they just… let you go?" Masaki said, almost in disbelief.

"I'm not giving them any choice in the matter." Ryuken said dismissively. "I am the inheritor to all the power and skill of the Ishida line, and I could kill any one of my so-called inferiors. That is always reassuring. Between the two of us, watching their impotent rage as I defy their precious traditions is rather amusing."

"You're spiteful," she said. It was sad- delighting in somebody else's misery was not a trait she found attractive.

"Blame it on the family," he said, shrugging. "My boy has his head full of ridiculous ideas about heroism and good- of course, he doesn't have the first idea about what the rest of them are really like, and he never will. Personally, I'd rather he dropped the whole thing."

Masaki shook her head. "Their ideals… their hate and ignorance, that's the problem. Not the power itself. You shouldn't deprive him of that."

"Says the housewife who keeps her children in the dark?" Ryuken said, shooting her a look. "Shall we perhaps see if Ichigo and Uryu both have the same talent? We could have little archery sessions, like a big, happy, monster-hunting family-"

"All right, that's enough." Masaki said, her tone sharpening. "Point taken. I won't lecture you if you won't lecture me."

"That's all I ask for." He sighed. "I missed you. But in the end, you were the brave one. You did what I couldn't, and it…" He grumbled. "Cheesy as it sounds, it was an inspiration."

"Nothing's stopping you from being a part of my life now, you know," Masaki said encouragingly. "You could always-"

"Good grief, come over for coffee and make merry about the wonders of being a doctor with your oaf husband?" Ryuken said, grimacing. "Family life… I had that once with Kanae. She passed a couple of years back, and… well, I don't need that again."

"I-I'm so sorry," Masaki said. She had no idea, not the first clue. She had gathered that Kanae, a servant girl to the Ishida family, had married Ryuken and given him a son, but she had known nothing further- certainly not that she had died. "I can't even imagine-"

"Don't." Ryuken said sharply. "This blasted sympathy makes me sick. Life is…" He took a deep breath, and forced his voice to be subdued and calm again, "life is what it is. I don't need to sit down and have somebody pat my back, and I don't need to play house with anybody either."

"…fair enough." Masaki said, deciding not to prod. "But your boy- Uryu- isn't he going to be awfully lonely? You work long hours, and with no mother…"

Ryuken did not reply.

"He could come over to our place sometimes. He should know he has relatives- good ones. Maybe you don't need anybody, but I can guarantee you, he does."

"…maybe." Ryuken muttered. "We'll see."

"All right, then," Masaki said, nodding.

"Well, nice catching up," Ryuken muttered, "but the real reason I found you is something else."

"Yes?" Masaki said.

"I always liked you," Ryuken said, "well, I think we already established that. At any rate… keep an eye out. My family, they know that I'd kill them all if they touched Uryu- but there's no guarantee they won't go after you, now that grandfather is dead. They will come to me, after the wake is done, and ask me one last time to become the patriarch of the Ishida. I will reject them, and in turn they will elect Shizuo. He's the most popular of the few 'pure' left, and… he's dangerous, Masaki."

"…I see," Masaki said. She remembered Shizuo, one of five pure quincies left in the clan. He was a dark, brooding sort, who spoke of the quincy arts with pride and passion- a deep, strong passion that always seemed to carry a hint of contempt for everything not quincy.

"He's gotten worse since I left," Ryuken explained. "He… hates the impure. A lot more than he used to. I don't know how strong you are, but I doubt you kept training much. You have a strong guard dog, that red-head woman, but that might not be enough. Watch your back, Masaki, for your family's sake."

"Thank you," Masaki said, and nodded, feeling a sinking feeling. Few as the remaining quincies were, they were strong and dangerous, exactly the sort of thing she didn't want in her life.

"Of course, I could be wrong entirely- maybe he'll decide to spend his time repopulating the earth with pure-bloods, but just in case…" Ryuken said, trailing off.

"Of course." Masaki said. "Thank you again, Ryuken. Don't be a stranger."

"Mmmh." Ryuken said, in the kind of generic grunt that she recognized as 'good bye'.

"I'll be in touch about Uryu!" Masaki said, as she walked away, waving at Ryuken as she walked away. She couldn't quite make it out, but she heard him say something like 'for god's sake, woman'.

Hope was not lost for the family she had come from, it seemed. Not entirely. But for now, she had to speak with Isshin and Erza.

She did speak to Isshin and Erza, apprising them of the potential dangers. Erza, predictably, suggested that they go and beat the snot out of them at once, but Masaki was not one to start a war if she could avoid it.

So they kept an eye out, turning a little paranoid in the process- a sensation already familiar to the three of them, having had to watch over little children for over a decade now- but a month passed without incident. Two months, three months, and though Masaki would never dream of letting her guard down, she allowed herself a metaphorical breath of relief. Perhaps Shizuo really had focused on rebuilding the clan, as Ryuken had suggested. Not the greatest of things, but if her family was out of the line of fire, she was happy.

Yes, time went by as normal. The kids went to school, played on their free hours- it was sweet to see how close Ichigo was with the girls; most boys could be so immature about that- and Masaki spent her time doing ordinary things, keeping a watchful eye. Erza did as she always did, working, looking after Orihime, training when she had the chance, always keeping busy.

Life was normal for a while.

She knew the instant she walked up to their door, some four months after that funeral, that something was wrong. Later, she would claim she had a bad feeling from the start; the truth of that statement wasn't known even to Masaki herself. She had caught a late lunch with Erza after her shift at work ended, Isshin looking after Ichigo, Karin, Yuzu and Orihime. The door was what tipped her off- almost, but not completely closed, when it should be locked.

"So I told him he needs to shape up-" Erza said, talking about some unruly pupil of hers, but she fell quiet when Masaki hurried her steps, opening her door, hoping dearly that somebody had just been sloppy with it. It was probably nothing, right? Children made mistakes all the time, and Isshin, that goofball, he always messed up in little ways, so… it had to be nothing. It had to be nothing.

Quickly, Masaki marched into her home, Erza following quickly after her.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concern in her voice.

"Ichigo?" Masaki called out, ignoring her. "Mommy's home! Ichigoo? Karin? Yuzu?" Quickly, she looked around. Everything seemed in order; the couch in the living room looking much the same, the coffee table not overturned, just the one glass of chocolate milk spilled; that was normal…

But the kids weren't there.

"ICHIGO?" Masaki cried out, letting herself feel for his presence. She hadn't used the arts for years, made a point not to, but it was like riding a bicycle; you never forgot how. "ICHIGO?" She cried again. "KARIN? YUZU?"

They weren't there. She could feel their absence; all of them had a signature, unique as a fingerprint, and it wasn't there.

"What- where are they?" Erza said, catching on.

"Go check upstairs!" Masaki said desperately. There was no point, but she had to. Looking around her, she felt panic rising in her chest. Oh no, oh no no-"

Her devolving state of mind was interrupted by a low groan coming from the kitchen. Quickly, she hurried in, and saw Isshin on the floor, sitting leaned against the refrigerator, a trail of blood coming down from a wound in his shoulder.

"Oh, baby," she mumbled, hurrying up to him, cradling his head in her hands. "Isshin, are you all right?" She gently slapped his cheek, wanting to wake him.

"I… oh, hell," he mumbled, groaning in pain as he weakly clutched at his chest, "I was… making sandwiches for the kids… I dunno what happened next."

Masaki grabbed a kitchen towel, rolled it up, and pressed it against his injury. It looked bad, but there wasn't that much blood- gigai didn't have arteries like normal bodies did, being made to last. They still felt pain, though, and Isshin groaned again.

"Hold on to this," she said. "And take this." She handed him her cellphone. "Call Ryuken. I have his number in there. He'll be grumpy and he'll say no at first, but you tell him Masaki asked for his help. You got that?"

"Uh-huh," Isshin groaned. "What'll you do?"

"I'll… go find them." She closed her eyes, feeling the strands of reiatsu all around them; emanating from her husband's wounds, from the living room…

It was well concealed, but she could feel it- quincy energy.

"Masaki!" Erza cried out, coming from upstairs. "I found Orihime- she's all right, she hid in a closet. She saw them- men in white came and took Ichigo, Karin and Yuzu!"

"The quincies," Masaki mumbled. She felt nauseous, a fearful concern welling over her like a tide. "The quincies." She said the words again, this time with a deep, passionate hate in her voice. Her children! Her little babies, that she had carried, given birth to and raised, taken away from the safety of their homes, for who knows what reason- nothing good, that was assured.

"We have to find them, Erza." Masaki said, forcing herself to be calm. The nausea, the fear, the hate, she pushed it down, boiling inside her like water in a pot, barely held back by a lid. "We find them before it's too late."

"Where do they live?" Erza said resolutely, her voice cold as steel. "Your old house?"

Masaki shook her head, remembering how they would operate. "No. They know the risk, and they'd never be where we could find them. Erza, I… I have no idea where they could have gone to."

"Me neither." Erza said. "But we know somebody who might, don't we?"

Much like Erza, Masaki had never much like Urahara Kisuke; a dodgy, unreliable and self-serving sort, but all old resentments were blown away in an instant, the furthest from her mind. For her children, she would deal with a demon if she had to, and being indebted was a small price.

"Let's go, then," she said. Erza nodded, popped out of her gigai, and together they dashed out toward the humble candy store in Karakura.

And there you have it everyone, the first chapter of 2016. How did you like it?

Lets talk about a few things. For one, Momo's little encounter. While Erza has come along way since her disaperance, Momo has, more or less, only gotten as powerful as her cannon version...Well, seeing as how she's a very important character to this story, (and my favorite bleach character) I couldnt leave her like that, now can I?

She wont be overly powerful, dont be expecting a bankai from her new found training. What this WILL do however is teach her some ather nasty kido spells. Not your traditional ones, such as sokatsui and the like. No, im talking about new types of kido, ones that dont even have numbers. A good example of this are the ones used by Koga agaisnt byakuya in the final fight in the zanpaktou fight. Think of the spells she will learn to be like that...Only worse.

Now with that over, lets talk about the ending. Yes, Ichigo, Yuzu, and Karin are now missing, kidnapped by the remains of the Ishida family, and other surviving quincys in japan. We never did find out what happened to them in cannon...I figured it would be best to fill in that little hole with this idea.

I do hope you all had some fun with this chapter. Please, feel free to leave a review and leave your thoughts, its very appropriated.