2/2

"Let's see about that." The hollow cackled, and suddenly its fingers extended like spears, three of them stabbing right into Ichigo's chest. Ichigo gasped, and stood as paralyzed for a second, completely caught off guard. To his surprise, though, the hollow did not pounce, instead taking a few steps back, pulling its spear-like fingers out. The wounds were shallow, Ichigo realized, and while it hurt it did nothing to wear him down.

"Was that it?" Ichigo said, feigning overconfidence- if it underestimated him, then that was all the better. "That was nothing. My aunt hurts me worse than that every day."

The hollow let out a low, rumbling cackle, laughing gleefully.

"Allow me to introduce myself, boy," it said, glee in its voice. Ichigo could see something stir at the top of its mask, just where the mask itself ended and its body began. "I am called Grand Fisher. I have lived and hunted your kind for a hundred years, and you are all just as arrogant. The three shinigami I ate before were all sure of themselves, and they all made me stronger when I gobbled their guts, their bones, their flesh. All I needed was a bit of your blood."

"Yeah?" Ichigo said. Boasting as it was, Ichigo figured it might leave an opening. It was worth the try, at least.

"I remember now," it said, its red, evil-minded eyes fixated on Ichigo's face. "This place. Years ago. Here, I sampled your kin. Oh, she would have been a treat…"

Ichigo, deciding that listening to him talk was doing him no favours, chose to make his move. Quickly he dashed forward, his sword held down and sideways, going for an upward slash-

But then the growth on Fisher's head moved, extending like a tendril from a plant, and suddenly Ichigo saw his mother standing right in front of him. Ichigo came to a screeching halt, his sword falling from its ready position, and he stuttered,

"M-mom?!"

"Ichigo, please don't hurt me," she said. It looked like her. It sounded exactly like her. At the back of his mind, Ichigo realized it had to be a trick- he tried to sense, sense for his mother's unmistakable signature…

And then Grand Fisher's claws hit him in the side, digging deep into his flesh and sending him tumbling. Ichigo let out a pained wheeze. The air in his lungs had left him, and he felt a burning pain as the sensation of blood wetting his shihakusho crept upon him. Desperately he got up to his knees, struggling to stand. It could pounce at any moment, and if it did, he was done for. Despite the pain, despite the burning and the blood flowing freely down his side, he stood up.

Grand Fisher laughed, looking at Ichigo like a cat making ready to play with a mouse.

"You are all the same, you arrogant shinigami scum," he rumbled, and laughed again. "You trust your sword to carry through, never once expecting that your enemy would hit somewhere your sword could not parry!"

"That's a dirty trick," Ichigo said. He was feeling faint, a little dizzy, and knew that he had to focus. Your body lies to you, Ichigo, he remembered his aunt lecturing, even as a human, it tells you to stop long before you've given it your all. As a shinigami, you can go that much further. See the lie for what it is. Fight. Don't give in until your body cannot move a muscle.

This was it. This was what she had trained him for. Alone, against a strong, cunning enemy, bleeding and struggling to stand, let alone raise his sword, this was a trial by fire.

He was not done. Not by a long shot. This was where Erza would force him to keep going, show him that yes, you can raise your sword and fight. Resolutely, Ichigo raised his sword, ignoring the pain in his side, and took a stance.

You are in charge. You are not done until you have given it your all.

The words echoed through his mind, as he readied himself.

"Oh?" Fisher said, cocking its head to the side, as if he had seen something quaint. "You will attempt a bit of valiance after all?" He chuckled again, and stepped forward, making ready to pounce. "Good. It is always more fun when they struggle."

Ichigo forced a focus on himself. There was the pain, but it was dull, as if existing somewhere else. There were the trees, the rocks, the grass, but they were of no consequence. There was the smallest breeze in his face, but it didn't even register. There was only him, his sword, and the bulky form of Grand Fisher, about to pounce.

And from somewhere within him, he felt a power rise, force of a kind he had only felt a few times when Erza had pushed him long and hard, during his very best sparring sessions.

Grand Fisher pounced, but it was almost as if it happened in slow motion. Waiting one moment, two moments, Ichigo let it come closer. Then, as it was almost upon him, paw raised for what it surely thought was a devastating blow, Ichigo dashed to the side and then forward, raking his sword across Fisher's side. Its thick hide and fur bore most of the cut, but Ichigo could feel it pierce the skin, blood splashing on the ground.

"What?!" Fisher snarled, turning around quickly. "You little brat, I'll make you suffer for that!"

Ichigo did not reply, once again readying himself. Part of him noted how easily he had been able to ignore the pain. He had been cut deeply, and he was bleeding profusely still. If he had been human, several vital organs would have been ruptured, and he would likely be dead or dying already. But as a shinigami, it was more of a… nuisance. It hurt, but not nearly as much as it should. Still, he would not get cocky. Fisher was angry now, and that was another advantage in Ichigo's favour. Coolly, he took a stance again, waiting for the monster to attack.

Again it came, snarling, crashing down on him with tremendous force.

But power without finesse is meaningless, Erza's voice echoed in his head.Raw strength loses to technique in almost every situation. Ichigo was smaller in size, and couldn't hit quite as hard, but that needn't mean a thing.

The hollow's claws came down, raking at him furiously, but Ichigo parried them, anticipating their movement. He took one, two, three light-footed steps backward, then, as the claws came at him again, he dodged under a wide, uncontrolled slash, and cut deep and hard into Fisher's chest, immediately rolling away as the monster lashed out with a counterattack. It was furious now, and let out a roar, charging again. The process repeated itself three times, Ichigo reading its movements, evading its attacks, and seeing an opening to cut deep into its flesh.

Part of him felt amazed at how easy it was. The monster's movements seemed slow, clumsy, painfully predictable. All he had to do was know where to be at what time, and it seemed unable to touch him. Compared to the furious speed Erza had made him used to, this only just barely came close.

It charged again, abandoning its bull-headed, direct approach, instead trying to jab at Ichigo, find an opening of its own. There was a problem here; not only was the monster smart enough to change its strategy, but it was too big, too huge for Ichigo to get a good crack at its mask. One hard hit across that would mean the end of this fight, and the hollow knew it well. The pain was still there, and while shinigami physique was extraordinary, Ichigo was not keen to find out just how much he could bleed before he collapsed. He was the one who had been hurt the worst- for all the cuts he had made into Fisher, its blood staining the grass plentifully, none of the cuts were all that deep relative to its size. He had to find a way to end this, not just dance around surviving.

Frustrated with its lack of success clawing at Ichigo, the young shinigami-in-training parrying or evading his every strike, Grand Fisher took a step back. He stood up on his hind legs, towering over Ichigo, and once more extended the lure, taking the shape of the boy's mother. It had worked like a charm the first time, and he was strong- too strong for Fisher's liking. The lure went down, hanging by his tentacle, and Fisher waited for its effect.

His mother- no, no, it's a trick, it's a trick damn it- came down again. Even knowing what it was, it was as if a blanket folded itself over his mind, almost like it were hypnosis. Everything in his brain told him this was his mother, his beloved mom who had raised him lovingly all these years, and he would never want to raise a sword to her, would he?

It's a trick! Part of him snarled inside his mind. It's not real! Wake up- he's going to use it to strike at you again when your guard is down, do you hear?

Ichigo felt dull. The awareness he had felt, the sheer focus, was fading away, and he felt calmer. It was his mother…

He sensed for her reiatsu, and found none. But it had to be her. Right?

NO.

With a sense of victorious glee, Fisher let his claw come down. He would crush the boy's skull this time, ending him immediately. Playing with him would have been more fun, enjoying his screams of pain as he bit off one limb at a time, but it would be too dangerous. One strike, quick and easy-

And then he felt the sharp edge of a sword blocking his strike, cutting into his palm. He had put quite some force behind it, and it cut deep into his skin.

"What?!" Fisher hissed. "That's impossible- you can't-"

"Because nobody saw through this before?" Ichigo hissed, a rage slowly building up in his chest, rising from his toes to his head. Letting out a snarl, he pushed Grand Fisher back, and before the best could recover, he lunged forward, viciously cutting its left forearm off. The limb fell to the ground, bouncing once, and Fisher staggered back, feeling the pain as his blood splashed plentifully to the ground, staining the grass a deep red.

"I bet you think you were so damn special," Ichigo spat, flinging blood off his sword. "You have that cheap-ass special ability, and you like catching people off guard with it, because you're too damn weak to fight anybody strong head on. My mother! You used my mother against me, you horrible, cheap piece of offal!"

Fisher opened his mouth to retort. He didn't understand. The shinigami had not seemed that strong, and what was worse, his trick had never failed before. This was… shocking.

"You… you little…" he snarled, collapsing down on three legs.

Fiercely, Ichigo charged forward, taking the initiative for the first time.

"You know," he spat, as he swung his sword in long, hard, methodic swings, which Fisher just barely could catch with one hand, "I've purged monsters like you before. But you went and made that personal, Fisher." He dodged a counterattack with contemptuous ease, and shot forward, his zanpakutou burying itself in Fisher's chest. The hollow roared with pain as Ichigo twisted the sword and ripped it free, spraying fresh stains of blood on the grass.

Fisher, having run out of confident, condescending words, viciously clawed at Ichigo, with the singular focus of an animal with its back against the wall, bent on survival. It was fast, desperate and vicious. It was not enough. With a furious swing, Ichigo cut once more, severing the right arm, and Fisher collapsed on the ground.

"It's pretty pitiful, being a hollow," Ichigo said coldly, raising his blade like an executioner. "You don't choose becoming a monster, after all. But you really earned this one."

Fisher cried out one last time, and Ichigo's blade came down. The mask was sturdy, thick and heavy, and for an instance Ichigo thought the one blow would not be enough. But the blade cut through, cracking under the weight of the blow, if a bit slower than usual. It took a second, but then the process began, Grand Fisher dissolving. Ichigo looked at the monster, pitiful, bleeding and broken, as it began to break down into tiny, glowing particles, flowing away like dust in the wind.

He had very nearly died. But there he was, still standing.

And, he became aware as the adrenalin- or whatever equivalent there were for shinigami- began to wear off, he was in a significant amount of pain. The immediate danger gone, he was now aware that he had three sizeable holes in his side, and that most of the left side of his shihakusho was soiled with blood. Letting out a cough, he let his blade sink into the ground, and he fell to one knee. He felt nauseated, not from the pain so much as from the experience itself, the brush with death.

But despite himself, he had to admit it had been… a thrill. To fight, to really fight with real stakes, to find a challenge and overcome it. He could do without the pain, but… dear lord, he had enjoyed it.

He stood like that for one, two minutes, maybe five. He had no clue, really, only the forced breaths and the dim view of the blood-stained grass in front of him reminding him that he was still in reality. Then, he heard a clapping from elsewhere, a slow, appreciative clap getting a little louder as its source came closer.

"Mr. Kurosaki!" Said a cheery, carefree voice, and the claps ended as Ichigo raised his head. The world was a little blurry, but he could still make out who it was- the blond hair, the bucket hat, the white-and-green striped coat. It was Urahara, the shop keeper, the one Erza relied on but didn't like.

"A job well done, I must say. Excellent, in fact." He said cheerily, as he kneeled on the ground, collecting samples of blood in little phials- his and Fisher's both, Ichigo noted.

"I'd shake your hand," The shopkeeper continued, "but I suspect you are not in any condition to even stand up at the moment. Which is perfectly understandable, of course."

"What-what are you doing?" Ichigo mumbled, exhaustion setting in.

"Gathering material for scientific analysis, naturally." Urahara said, as if it were obvious. "If it helps, I should clarify that you were never really in danger. I was watching close by. If things had got out of control, I would have intervened."

"You what?" Ichigo said, mustering the energy to be surprised.

"Yes, yes, it must seem awfully callous," Urahara said, stuffing the phials in a pocked of his jacket, "but we all make sacrifices. Besides, you rose to the challenge admirably. Now, why don't I escort you back to the store? We will pick up miss Rukia and your body along the way, and see to treating your injuries. You will be up and about in no time, I assure you."

Ichigo wanted to protest, wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but found himself lacking the energy. He was exhausted, mentally more than physically, and relying on somebody else for treatment felt deserved, at the very least.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he woke up, but he felt surprisingly pleasant when his eyes opened, blinking a few times. There was no daylight, he realized, so he had to have been out for a good few hours- assuming this was even the same day. Cautiously, he tried sitting up, anticipating a sharp jerk of pain. To his surprise, the pain was dull, reduced and distant, and combined with the somewhat blurry way he saw the world, he deduced he had probably been put on some sort of drug. He blinked a couple more times, and as his vision cleared a little, he looked around. He was in a simple room with a sliding door, lying in a comfortable futon, stripped down to his underwear. Thick bandages were wrapped around his midsection, with even thicker paddings underneath. There was the sense of some kind of spiritual energy, residue of something he couldn't recognize. Judging from the comparative lack of blood and pain, he guessed it was some sort of mystical healing art; he had at least heard of it, though he had not witnessed it directly before.

He blinked again. The last he remembered was… well, he was being led somewhere by that Urahara guy. Rukia had been there, too. He was obviously still in his shinigami form, which meant he'd needed serious healing before he could get back in his body.

He had beaten a strong, dangerous hollow all on his own.

As the realization sunk in, he heard muffled, distant voices talking, arguing. One, he realized after a few seconds, he recognized. It was his aunt, sounding upset- and well, she probably would be. Cautiously he tried standing up, grabbing a simple robe lying next to the bed, probably placed there for him to use. He ached, but not so bad he couldn't walk, and carefully slid the door open. Slowly and carefully he walked out, toward the front of the shop.

"-and I am telling you, if he suffers any lasting injuries there will be hell to pay," came the voice of his aunt. "I get out of town for a few hours, and this happens? He's my responsibility- Ichigo!" She said, turning her head toward him as she saw him in the doorway. Urahara stood there behind the counter, presumably the focus of Erza's venting process, and looked at him with a content smile.

"Ichigo, you should be in bed!" She said firmly, and marched toward him. "Come on- what room were you in?"

"Auntie, I'm fine-" he protested.

"What. Room." Erza said, and there was no room for disagreement in her voice. Lamely, Ichigo pointed, and with caution, insisting on supporting him every step of the way, Erza marched him back to the room. Impatiently, she helped him into bed, and Ichigo dared not say he needed no help at all. Once tucked back in to bed, a blanket pulled up to his chin, Erza sat cross-legged by the futon, looking down on him. Ichigo looked up at her, and a feeling of dread rose inside him. He had not been careful. He had been reckless, which was the opposite of careful, and doing the opposite of what Erza told you got you your ass kicked. She probably would not physically beat him, not in this state- although she likely would when he had healed- but he was in for a hell of a lecture, he was sure of it.

"Are you all right?" Erza said quietly, not sure how badly hurt Ichigo was.

"I'm fine," Ichigo mumbled. "I don't know what the bucket hat did, but it worked real nice. I barely even hurt."

"You…" Erza said, taking a deep breath. "You'll live, he said. Full recovery. Apparently it was only three foot long claws puncturing your torso."

Ichigo took a deep breath. Here it came.

"Ichigo," Erza said, looking him in the eyes, her gaze steely, "what were you thinking?"

"Uh," Ichigo said hesitantly, knowing there was no right answer, "I could have run for help but then he might have gone for some innocent people who couldn't defend themselves?"

Erza made a fist, and looked at him with a vicious glare. "Kurosaki Ichigo, that was utter foolishness. That was idiotic. It was dangerous, reckless, stupid, nearly fatal, that was a catastrophic mistake-"

"I'm sorry," Ichigo mumbled.

"Shut up. I'm not done yet." Erza said firmly, and Ichigo swallowed. "That was completely idiotic, dangerous and I am incredibly proud of you."

Ichigo blinked, this time out of surprise.

"What?"

"I've never talked much about my old life," Erza said, "but when I was alive, in a whole different world from this, I belonged to a guild. We did things like these… all of the time. Risking your life like that is very, very stupid, but it's also the right thing to do. Act first, think later, go with your gut and screw the consequences, that was… well, sort of an unofficial motto."

"You know, that is a really mixed message compared to everything you said so far," Ichigo said, in his confusion resorting to a sarcastic tone.

"Oh, don't expect this to mean you can freely charge in like an idiot every time you please," Erza said firmly, almost angrily, and scowled. "But… there is a time and a place. Sometimes you have to try the impossible. Sometimes you go against the odds, when it would be rational to back out, because screw the odds. A time and a place, Ichigo, and only your best judgment can tell when. But if you take that to mean you can choose when not to listen to me, I'll make you wish for this sickbed again."

"Gotcha." Ichigo mumbled.

"So what happened?"

"Well…" Ichigo said, and recounted the whole of the fight, the walk in the park, the sudden appearance of the hollow, its strength, how afraid he had been, that special ability, and how he had risen to the occasion.

"It's funny, you know," Ichigo mumbled, feeling puzzled as he reflected on the event. It felt almost like a dream, thinking back to it. "It was like something… just kicked in after it got me the first time. It was like… I don't want to say time slowed or nothing, but I could read everything better. I knew what was where. I knew where I needed to be and when. That hollow, it was fast and vicious, but it felt slow to me. Is… is this some sort of special shinigami ability?"

"No, Ichigo," Erza said, shaking her head. "It's nothing special, but it is vital. You were faced with danger, and you kept a level head. It's not a magic trick. It's awareness, the kind that only training and hard work can give you. Humans can attain it as much as any shinigami. It's just concentration in its most important form."

"…huh." Ichigo mumbled, almost disappointed. "So the real deal came along, and I just remembered my training, that's it?"

"Don't say that like it means little, because it doesn't." Erza said, her voice serious. "It means everything. Shinigami may have magic, a supernatural strength and endurance, but ninety-nine percent of it comes down to hard work. You trained. I trained you. It had an effect where it mattered the most. It makes me proud, and it should make you proud, too."

"…yeah," Ichigo said, his spirits rising. It was not often he was praised like this. "Yeah, I can do that. Feel a bit of pride."

"Now, rest." Erza said. "I still have to notify your mother, and there is a conversation I do not look forward to having."

"Oh, yeah…" Ichigo muttered, feeling faint again. His mom… yes, she'd have words for him. Might as well rest, then.

Erza watched over Ichigo, and once she was sure he had fallen asleep again, she quietly got to her feet, and walked back out in search of Urahara Kisuke. She still had some choice words for him. The man was gone from the store's front, the desk being manned by one of those mod-soul children. Erza did not spend much time here, aside from the cellar, but she knew he had a personal laboratory in the back. Heading right there, she almost ripped the door off its hinges as she pulled it open.

"Careful, careful," Urahara said, sitting bent over a table, with a microscope, several petri dishes and pipettes on it. "Doors aren't cheap, you know."

"I don't give a damn about your door." Erza said. She was calm now- comparatively- after speaking to Ichigo, but looking at Urahara, she felt the anger rising again. "We will have words, or I will wreck this miserable room."

"Oh, you wouldn't." Urahara said. "Surely you'd never compromise such precious knowledge-"

That tone, at the same time flippant, dismissive and disinterested, as if she was just a nuisance, was enough.

"You think I'm kidding?" Erza snarled, and slammed her fist onto the table, rattling his experiment.

"Careful-" Urahara said urgently. He took a deep breath, sat up straight, and swung his chair around. "You wanted to talk. Let's talk. If it's about my experiments, I assure you I had the boy treated first-"

"You know, I'm not a super genius," Erza said coldly, and looked him right in the eye, "but I'm not an idiot either."

The stare, which terrified most people she knew, seemed to have no effect; he didn't budge. It was infuriating.

"Oh, I would never deign to underestimate you, Erza," Urahara said, sounding serious enough- but you could rarely tell with him. "I know exactly how intelligent you are. I know where you stand."

"I'm not an idiot," Erza repeated. "There is a hollow infestation. A massive one, just enough to keep me busy for a few hours. Conveniently situated well outside the city where it might hurt people. And then at the same time, Ichigo just happens to run into a powerful hollow, one just in line with his level of strength. Convenient, isn't it?"

"Ever heard of coincidences, miss Scarlet?" Urahara said innocently. "They do happen. Given your history with manipulation, I can't blame you for being a mite paranoid, but-"

"An infestation while he happens upon a hollow is coincidence." Erza said, her voice like cold steel, "but him running into the exact same hollow that attacked his mother when he was little? That just happens to manifest on top of Ichigo?" She clenched her fists. "You can deny it all you want. Likewise, I can burn down this entire laboratory with a bit of kido."

"Don't be hasty," Urahara said. His voice was smooth, in control, but there was an urgency to it. "It sounds as if you accuse me of… well, having deliberately set up a distraction only to summon a very specific hollow to test Ichigo. That is a very serious accusation, and-"

"Say 'I'm hurt' and I'm going to break your nose." Erza said bluntly.

"-and it is one for which you have no evidence." Urahara said, smooth as a well-oiled machine. "Really, all you have is assumption. But," he added, seeing Erza's progressively darkening expression, "if one were to orchestrate such a set of events, in such a genial and almost flawless manner, then surely you would see that it was masterminded to perfection. That I, were I behind it, would have taken every necessary precaution to assure young Mr. Kurosaki's safety. Surely you can see that?"

"He is in bed with severe mauling injuries." Erza said flatly. "And I am this close to rearranging your face. Give me a reason not to."

"…let me put it like this," Urahara said cautiously. "You are close to the boy. As you should, having been part of his life for so long. But even with your legendary harshness, you go a bit… soft on him. This was the first time he had to face serious combat, and he held up brilliantly- without the slightest need for help."

"I determine when he's ready!" Erza snarled, and grabbed him by the collar, hoisting him up from his seat. "That is MY call! I am his sensei, and he is NOT your test subject to use as you please!"

"Well, technically I've been testing him since first you started training in the basement- which is my property, by the way, that I graciously have let you use free of charge-"

Erza raised a fist.

"Aren't you even a little curious?" Urahara added anxiously. "Haven't you considered there was a reason for this? I don't collect data just for the fun of it, you know!"

"Talk, and make it good." Erza said, her fist still raised.

"His power," Urahara said. "You're a hundred years old. You've been through the academy. You have taught at the academy. You served with the best. Have you ever seen anybody with such raw potential? So much strength with so little age? You say he's one in a million, but that's not even true- he's unique, and you know it."

"What of it?" Erza said dismissively.

"The normal cannot exist without the abnormal, naturally," Urahara explained as best he could, all but lifted from the floor by Erza, "but unique phenomena demand an explanation. Have you never asked yourself why he is so strong?"

"His father is a captain and his mother a quincy of considerable power. Talk about winning the genetic lottery."

"That accounts for some of it, yes," Urahara nodded, "but that's not nearly enough. Now, with this new data… I am on to something."

Finally, Erza let go, and Urahara shot her a smile. "I have a preliminary analysis- preliminary, mind you, because there is a lot of data to analyze and verify- but the core of it is… Ichigo is not really human."

"What?" Erza said, and frowned. "You mean-"

"The DNA supplied from the gigai I made- expertly, I might add- made him human enough, that's not what I mean," Urahara said. "No, it's… here, look," he said, pulling out a few papers, with charts Erza couldn't quite understand.

"Observe: the reiatsu pattern of a normal shinigami."

"Every pattern is different, like a fingerprint."

"Yes," Urahara said, "but they all behave in such a way that you can identify them as shinigami, or a regular plus soul, or a quincy, and so on. Do you see how the pattern runs?"

He held up the papers, eagerly trying to demonstrate it.

"Now," he said, holding up another paper, whose curved waves and figures looked radically different even to Erza, despite her lack of knowledge of the science behind it, "look at this. Ichigo's reiatsu pattern. Fluctuating wildly, and enormously powerful. Preliminary assessment- and I do repeat, it is preliminary…."

"Just say it," Erza said impatiently.

"He has the spiritual structure of a hybrid." Urahara said. "Reiatsu has its own equivalent to DNA. It mimics the human anatomy fairly well, since it is the blueprint from which it evolved. In yours or mine, you would find regular DNA, cells, molecules that you would find on any shinigami. In him, it is… different. As if merged with a whole other source of power."

"Hybrid?" Erza said. "Hybrid of what?"

"That is the question, yes," Urahara said, and grinned widely. "I do not know yet. For all I know it could take years to analyze. I am a genius, but data takes time to sift through, and we do not have the glorious funding that the Gotei does. But know this- he is absolutely exceptional. In all my time as a scientist, I have seen nothing like it. And," he added hastily, "this could prove vital. My little experiment- if I did perform it, and I'm not saying that I did- is totally justified, ethically and practically."

"And what about when Rukia takes her power back?"

"Well, we'd have to find a way around that. He has grown explosively since then, and it's not going to stop." Urahara said, sounding intrigued. "There is no known limit to how far he could go- he could surpass you eventually. In a few years or a few decades, who knows. You had best teach him to handle power, because it's part of him now."

He was right, Erza knew. She only wished he didn't sound so happy about it.

"I won't forget about this," She said, and scowled.

"I am sure you won't. And when you one day thank me for it, I'll be gracious enough not to hold a grudge. But till then…"

Erza growled, and turned around. The thought of breaking his nose, and a few other things, was still tempting- but it was a strange thing, and as shifty as he was, he valued his science. Knowing where this power came from could prove vital. Ethically and morally justified? In his dreams. But as usual, he managed to make himself useful enough that she needed him. What was with Ichigo? She had to admit, she did want to know.

But if he overstepped like this again, no amount of slippery talking would get him out of a thrashing.

With that, we have dealt with the infamous Grand fisher. While I truly enjoy the original arc in its glory, and Im MORE than happy that Isshin killed that damn hollow, I've always been a bit upset that Ichigo never got a rematch, or for all we know, never knew what happened to that damn hollow. I also felt that the real reason Ichigo lost to grand fisher wasn't a lack or reiatsu, but a lack of training and skill. Thanks to Erza, he had just what he needed to win.

I know Erza really didn't do much this chapter, and im going to make sure she has more of a role in this arc, but for substitute soul reaper arc, Ichigo will be our focus. Once we get to Soul society however, that focus will be focused on both of them.

Also, I hope you all enjoyed our explanation as to how Ichigo can become so strong so fast. It makes sense to me personally.

Now, lets talk about the recent chapters of each series.

Bleach's fight with Gerrard was really good in my opinion. Seeing Toshiro at his full potential and Kenpachi using his bankai are moments of pure awesomeness. Whenever or not I can fit them into this story remains unknown, just know that I do give my approval for it.

As for Fairy tail, while the fights with the "Memories" were interesting, the REAL focus, and important factor fall's upon Lady Eileen Belserion. We know from Brandish that she is the strongest member of Zeref's elite force, but we also know that she has SOME connection to Erza.

Is she her mother? Older sister? Aunt? All we know for sure is that they ARE related. I want to know more NOW! This information could be crucial to this story.

Regardless of all that however, I enjoyed both series for this past month.

Anyways, I thank you all so much for reading this chapter. I would really appericate it though if you left me a review. You see, my brthday is the 19th of this month, so think of your review as a birthday present for me. :)

Thank you all so much for reading.