Part 6 Fractured Truths

Ichigo stood motionless before his mother's grave, fingers trembling around the bouquet of lilies he held. The air lay still, the silence broken only by the faint rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. His lips parted, but no words emerged.He'd been here before. Perhaps days ago, or weeks—maybe even a month had passed. But this time felt different. Not the grave. Not the wind whispering through his hair or the memory of rain piercing his skin. It was him. Something inside felt cracked, re-formed in ways he couldn't fully grasp.Back then, the silence had offered a numb refuge, even if it brought pain, it was a place to hide from life. Now it felt alive, crawling under his skin, prying at the corners of his mind. The very air weighed on him like a tangible force, echoing the absence this place embodied. He'd knelt here countless times, yet now it felt as though the grave stared back, demanding an answer he didn't possess.He sank to his knees, gingerly placing the lilies at the base of the headstone. His fingertips lingered on the petals, softness against unyielding stone. A tremor shot through his hands. For a moment, he clenched them into fists, nails digging into his palms. The pain anchored him, yet did nothing to alleviate the crushing tightness in his chest.The words he wanted to say were caught somewhere between his heart and his throat. ' What could I even say to you? I wasn't there... I wasn't there on your day... ' His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze dropped to the ground. The sound of his own heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out the gentle rustling of the trees.A voice, cold and precise, like the tolling of a distant bell, shattered the fragile silence. "So, you've finally come... and yet, you stand there, silent, as if words have abandoned you."The remark sliced into the fragile stillness, carrying a hint of condescension. It was the first thing Ryuken had said since they'd left the hospital, his tone heavy with unmet expectation. He stood unshaken, as if the biting wind and the somber calm of this place held no power over him.His eyes were keen, his stance unwavering, each syllable uttered like a surgeon's blade. "What do you hope to accomplish by standing there mute? Regret? Guilt? Or is this yet another act of defiance against your own inadequacies?"Each word struck home with merciless clarity. Ryuken stepped forward, the crunch of gravel under his polished shoes the sole challenger to the cemetery's hush. His elongated shadow fell across the lilies, the grave itself, and the trembling hands of the boy who'd placed them there. The contrast felt cruel—delicate flowers confronted by an implacable silhouette."If it's solace you seek," Ryuken continued, his voice lowering but losing none of its bite, "silence won't grant it. It only prolongs the burden you bear.""Shut up!" Ichigo's voice ripped through the air, jagged and raw. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails bit into his skin, yet he didn't care. His entire body trembled—not from fear, but from the tempest of emotions raging within him. Anger, frustration, and something far more fragile threatened to boil over.He glared at Ryuken with an intensity that seemed ready to crack stone, chest heaving beneath the weight of the accusations he'd just hurled. "You don't get to talk to me like that," he spat, his voice quaking with defiance and a pain he couldn't hide. "Not here. Not in front of her."The grave stood between them, a silent witness to their confrontation. The lilies at its base swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate beauty a cruel contrast to the tumult unraveling above them. Ichigo's eyes darted to the headstone, his heart twisting. He felt like a child again, desperate to be shielded by his mother from the weight of the moment.Ryuken didn't flinch. His gaze remained locked, stern and inscrutable, the cold precision of his words now matched by a withering silence. Yet in his eyes, there was the faintest flicker of something Ichigo couldn't name—too swift to interpret. He stood rooted, rigid, a stark counterpoint to Ichigo's raw, barely contained rage."You truly believe your shouting changes anything?" Ryuken asked, his voice calm but charged with an eerie authority. "Your anger doesn't honor her—it only showcases how little you truly understand.""Shut up!" Ichigo shouted again, his voice cracking. He felt the heat of tears welling up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of Ryuken. "You don't know anything about what I feel! You don't know what it's like to lose someone and—""Don't I?" Ryuken cut in, his tone still measured, but weighted by an unexpected, quiet ferocity. "Don't presume to teach me about loss, Kurosaki. If you believe you're alone in carrying regrets to this place, then you're even more naive than I imagined."Ichigo froze, the retort on his tongue dying before it could escape. The tension between them was palpable, like the charged air before a storm. His gaze fell to the lilies once more, his anger faltering under the weight of Ryuken's words. For a moment, the cemetery was silent again, save for the whisper of the wind and the soft rustle of leaves.But this was no longer the numb silence Ichigo recalled. It felt alive—more battleground than sanctuary—where words and emotions met, lacking resolution. His shoulders sagged, and he bit his lip, his fists slowly uncurling. He didn't want to admit it, but Ryuken's remark struck deeper than he'd anticipated."Then why are you here?" he mumbled, voice quieter now but laced with lingering defiance.Ryuken's gaze held firm, unreadable. "To pay my respects," he said finally, each syllable clipped, "and to honor a promise."Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "A promise?"Ryuken's stare sharpened. "You wanted answers, didn't you?" he said, his voice aloof. "Ask your questions—anything about your mother or your father. But don't expect more than what you request."Ichigo's shoulders tensed, every muscle in his body braced as if preparing for a strike. He had asked for this—for answers—and now here they were, dangled before him by a man who seemed determined to reveal nothing more than the bare minimum. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure which question to voice first. His eyes dropped to the gravestone at his feet—Masaki Kurosaki—and he felt a familiar ache in his chest.Ichigo's knuckles whitened as he balled his fists at his sides, teeth clenched to keep the surge of anger—and something like panic—at bay. "You speak like you knew her so well," he muttered, not quite a question, not quite an accusation.Ryuken's gaze flicked to him, impassive as ever. "I knew the parts of Masaki she allowed me to see," he replied, his words measured. "She was... resolute. More so than most."Ichigo swallowed hard, looking away. Questions buzzed in his mind, each threatening to unravel a new wound he wasn't sure he could handle. Still, he forced himself to speak: "Then tell me..." He paused, recalling Ryuken's admonition to choose his words carefully. "How did you—how did my mother even cross your path? You're a Quincy, right? Was she—""She was many things," Ryuken interjected crisply, "before she became Masaki Kurosaki. One question at a time."Ichigo flinched at the brusque reply. "Is that how you're going to answer everything? I'm asking how you knew her, and you're just—" His voice cracked, anger sparking in his eyes again."You asked how she came to be near me," Ryuken corrected, adjusting his glasses with a practiced motion. "I told you—through Quincy connections. Is that not sufficient?"Frustration roiled in Ichigo's gut. Around them, the cemetery's hush pressed in, every whisper of leaves magnified in the dusk. "So she was... part of it too?" he asked in a strained voice, the image of his gentle mother colliding violently with a universe of Hollows, Shinigami, Quincies, and who know's what else.Ryuken's expression remained remote, though his gaze flicked to Masaki's headstone for a heartbeat. "To a degree," he answered, voice turning cold. "She eventually chose a different path, which led her here—to this grave."The barb lashed out, stinging Ichigo like a slap. "That's not an answer," he said, forcing the tremor from his voice. But Ryuken's glare told him he was treading close to a line."I gave you precisely what you asked," Ryuken said, voice clipped. "If you want more, ask specifically.""I've given you precisely what you asked," Ryuken said, voice clipped. "If you want more, frame your question accordingly."He finally asked what Ryuken mentioned a bit earlier " What do you exactly mean by Quincy connections... By that how exactly did you come to know her "He recalled something Ryuken had mentioned earlier—"What do you mean by Quincy connections? How exactly did you know her?""When we were younger," Ryuken said icily, "our families arranged our betrothal to preserve the Quincy bloodline. You know how close our kind is to extinction—beyond my son, Uryu, there are hardly any Quincies left."Ichigo's breath caught in his throat. "You and her... engaged?" He struggled to reconcile the idea of his warm, caring mother with this aloof man, destined to be by her side.Ryuken didn't flinch. "She chose a different path," he added flatly, "turning away from Quincy life."Ichigo's hands trembled at his sides, emotions warring in him: betrayal, anger, sorrow. "She almost became a Quincy? So how did my da—""You're mixing multiple questions," Ryuken cut in icily. "Choose one."Ichigo closed his eyes, fighting the urge to lash out again. "Fine," he whispered shakily. "Did my dad know about this? About you and her?"Ryuken inclined his head. "He knew enough. Enough to keep her from certain dangers... or so he believed. Circumstances escalated."A knot tightened in Ichigo's chest. His mind flashed with memories of the night she died, colliding with this new knowledge. "Escalated... how?""That is another question." Ryuken's gaze drifted to the grave, as if silently reminding Ichigo of their location. "Focus."Ichigo drew in a shaky breath, his eyes falling on the lilies he'd placed on the stone. "Did she... did she love you, or whatever arrangement you had? Or was it all just...some family arrangement?"A faint spasm crossed Ryuken's expression—annoyance, maybe regret. "She made her choice when she married Isshin. My role ended there."Ichigo's heart clenched. "But you're still here, still taking care of me, still... " Ichigo shaked his head trying to steady his mind " ...Why? " A pause, the wind teasing the edges of Ryuken's coat. "Because I promised to someone once respected," he admitted softly, his words so quiet Ichigo almost missed them. "If she strayed from the Quincy path, I would remain... vigilant. In case it became too dangerous for her, or for any child that followed."Something in Ichigo's heart cracked at the thought of his mother seeking Ryuken's protection—for him. "So that's it?" he said, voice trembling. "You're doing all this because of some old vow?" Ichigo needed to confirm his suspicion.Ryuken's eyes narrowed. "You asked why I'm here. That is the truth. If you wish for more details, ask. But choose carefully... My time nor patience for useless questions isn't limitless"IIchigo tried to steady himself, but the ground seemed to tilt beneath him. "Then... why didn't you save her?" he asked, anguish twisting each word. "She still died. I was just a kid, powerless... but you could've—"The tension in the air surged. "She chose a life," Ryuken said, each syllable measured, "that cut her off from the Quincy. When the time came, neither Isshin nor I could alter the outcome. Fate was already set in motion. Even the strongest vows have limits."Ichigo's vision blurred with unspent tears. He wanted to scream about the injustice, and demand that someone should've intervened. But the quiet finality in Ryuken's voice told him nothing which would ease that wound."So... you're saying there was nothing you could do?" he whispered, his anger deflating into hollow grief.Ryuken held his gaze, unflinching. "That is correct," he said. "I did what I could. Circumstances happened out of control or prediction, that's it."that promise die with her?"Ryuken adjusted his glasses, his cool composure slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of something else in his gaze. "She specifically asked that, if her son ever faced a threat Isshin couldn't handle" Here he muttered something under his breath " I would intervene. And so I have. "Ichigo let out a shaking breath, his nails biting into his palms. "You're telling me... you really doing all of this because of some vow to her?"Ryuken's voice dropped to a quiet chill. "Yes. And I intend to keep that promise as long as it remains mine to keep."They stood there, the wind rattling the branches overhead, the lilies quivering at Masaki's grave. Ichigo's mind spun with revelations he'd never imagined—hidden aspects of his mother's life, and the man who once stood beside her.How would his life have turned out, then? The question churned in his mind, nauseating in its possibilities.Steeling himself, he broke the silence in a calmer but firm tone. "So... that's it? That's how you knew my mother?"A flicker—maybe pity, maybe exasperation—crossed Ryuken's eyes. "You only asked how I knew her, why I am here, and why I didn't save her. I answered you exactly. If you want more, ask again. But be warned: your mother made choices you may find painful to face. The more you learn, the heavier that burden becomes."Ichigo's glare smoldered with an anger he could barely contain. A year—he had given his father an entire year to say something, anything at all about her, about why she died if he was a shinigami captain and about all the secrets that seemed to orbit his life. Instead, his father had all but vanished, leaving him alone with unanswered questions and a hollow ache in his chest.Now, stuck in a cemetery, forced to pry answers out of a man he barely knew, the bitterness welled up inside him like a reopened wound. His voice came out ragged, weighted by the exhaustion of waiting too long for truths that never came."You really think I'd just drop it?" he hissed, his tone edged with despair. "I've been waiting a year for my dad to tell me anything, but he just—" He swallowed hard, unable to finish. He left me. He took a trembling breath. "So if my mom was supposed to marry you, how the hell did she meet my dad?"Ryuken adjusted his glasses with practiced calm, his gaze momentarily flicking to the headstone before settling back on Ichigo. His posture remained composed, his expression unreadable, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible tension in the set of his jaw.Ryuken adjusted his glasses with practiced calm, his gaze momentarily flicking to the headstone before settling back on Ichigo. His posture remained composed, his expression unreadable, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible tension in the set of his jaw.Ryuken adjusted his glasses, his gaze fixed on Ichigo with an unyielding calm. "Your mother met your father during a hollow attack a dangerous type which we later called a White Hollow. "Ryuken's gaze briefly shifted toward the gravestone, his voice lowering as if the memory itself carried a weight. "Masaki intervened. She sensed the hollow's presence and chose to act, fully aware of the risks. She struck the hollow at the precise moment it was poised to deliver a fatal blow to Isshin, successfully diverting its attention to herself."He paused, his expression tightening ever so slightly. "But once its focus was entirely on her, it adapted. It dodged every one of her attacks, its movements calculated and precise. She quickly realized that a conventional fight wouldn't work—not against something as unnatural and predatory as that hollow. So, she made a decision."Ryuken's tone grew colder, each word deliberate. "She dropped all of her defenses, intentionally leaving herself exposed. It was a gamble, one only someone as resolute as Masaki could make. She understood that the hollow would lunge at her the moment it saw her vulnerability, and she planned to end it in a single decisive strike as it attacked."He straightened slightly, his gaze sharpening as if daring Ichigo to understand the gravity of what he was saying. "She bet her life on that moment—and she won. The hollow's instincts betrayed it, and Masaki destroyed it in one clean shot."The wind stirred, rustling the lilies at the grave, and Ichigo stood frozen, his mind reeling. The image of his mother deliberately lowering her guard, risking everything to save someone she didn't even know yet, etched itself into his thoughts. It wasn't just bravery—it was selflessness, a conviction so strong it bordered on recklessness.One that he understood fully well on his own."And not only that," Ryuken continued, his voice taking on an almost imperceptible edge of admiration, "but after defeating the hollow, despite her injuries, she ran to your father without hesitation, determined to help him in any way she could."Ryuken's gaze remained unwavering, the faint tension in his posture now more pronounced as he continued. "She knelt beside him, blood trickling from her wounds, ignoring the pain she must have felt. Her first instinct wasn't to tend to herself, but to assess his condition—someone she had never met. Your father was gravely injured, his spiritual energy nearly drained from the hollow's assault, but Masaki didn't waver."He paused, the weight of the memory seemingly pressing against him. "She questioned him, checking for signs of life, and when he regained enough strength to respond, she ensured he could stabilize his own wounds. In that moment, Ryuken's expression grew colder, a flicker of something distant crossing his face. "She had no reason to help him, no obligation. He was a Shinigami—an enemy of anything unnatural. But that was the kind of person Masaki was. Her conviction, her compassion—they were unparalleled. Even when they placed her in harm's way."Ichigo's fists clenched at his sides, his breath hitching as he struggled to process the story. The image of his mother—selfless, brave, reckless—clashed with the pain of her absence, the loss he still couldn't reconcile. He could almost picture her, her fierce determination shining through as she stood against the hollow, and the gentleness that followed when she turned to his father.Ryuken's voice cut through the heavy silence, sharper now, as if to ground Ichigo in the reality of the moment. "That was the day their paths crossed. Your mother's choice to act, to save him, set the course of everything that followed. It was not fate, not destiny—just a choice. One made in the heat of battle, and one that changed both of their lives forever."The wind carried a chill, brushing past them as Ryuken's words lingered in the heavy air. Ichigo's gaze dropped to the lilies resting at the grave, his thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of emotions. The story of his mother's meeting with his father wasn't just one of heroism—it was a testament to the person she had been. Someone who faced impossible odds without hesitation, someone who gave everything she had for others, even when it meant risking her life.Like she had for him.But then, a crack formed in the narrative Ryuken had painted, a jagged inconsistency that clawed at Ichigo's mind. His eyes narrowed, the question bubbling to the surface before he could stop it."If she could defeat a hollow that even my dad couldn't handle," he said slowly, his voice tinged with confusion and frustration, "then how could she have died to a hollow like Grand Fisher?"The words hung in the air, sharp and accusing, cutting through the somber silence like a blade.Ryuken's gaze remained steady, cold and calculating as he considered Ichigo's question. The faintest flicker of something unreadable passed across his face, though it vanished as quickly as it came. He adjusted his glasses, his movements deliberate, as if weighing the words he was about to speak."It wasn't the Grand Fisher that killed her," he began, his voice as calm and precise as ever, "not truly. That hollow was merely the final blow in a sequence of events that had already left her vulnerable. What you need to understand, Kurosaki, is that power—even the strongest—is not infallible. It can be taken away."Ichigo stiffened, his brow furrowing. "Taken away? How?"Ryuken's gaze flicked briefly toward the headstone, the weight of the moment palpable. "The hollow she fought that day, White, was not an ordinary hollow. It was something far more dangerous. Its very essence carried a... corrosive effect, something insidious that lingered even after its defeat. Masaki did not escape unscathed."The wind stirred again, ruffling the lilies as Ryuken continued, his tone growing colder. "The wound it inflicted on her wasn't just physical. It left behind a mark—an infection, if you will. One that slowly eroded the strength she once possessed. Over time, she became weaker, her abilities diminished."Ichigo's fists clenched at his sides, his breath hitching. "So... she lost her power? Because of that hollow?"Ryuken inclined his head slightly. "Precisely. By the time the Grand Fisher appeared, she was no longer the woman who had once defeated White. She was..." He paused, the faintest flicker of something resembling regret crossing his features. "She was human. Vulnerable in ways she had not been before."The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable sinking into Ichigo's chest like a weight. Vulnerable. The thought echoed in his mind, sharp and unrelenting. His mother, who had been strong enough to stand against something even his father couldn't defeat, reduced to—what? A shadow of herself, powerless and exposed to the dangers she'd once faced without fear.His jaw tightened as another thought clawed its way to the surface, one he couldn't ignore.That's... exactly what happened to me.A chill ran down his spine, his mind flashing back to that moment just a week ago, when he had stood between his sisters and death itself. His strength, his powers—everything that had once defined him, everything that had made him capable of protecting the people he loved—was gone. And yet, he'd still fought and his reward ? The hollow's claws tore into him, each wound a brutal reminder of how far he'd fallen. He could still feel the searing pain, the sticky warmth of blood soaking his skin. He'd fought like a man drowning in his own weakness, desperation fueling every blow he threw. But it hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough.Is history repeating itself? The thought gnawed at him, relentless and cruel. His mother, brought down by forces beyond her control. Himself, left powerless in the wake of his battles. Was this some cruel cycle, a pattern he couldn't escape?His breath hitched again, his shoulders trembling under the weight of the realization. For the first time, he felt the full gravity of his mother's vulnerability—not just as an idea, but as something he intimately understood. It wasn't just a loss of strength. It was the loss of identity, of purpose.Did she feel that too?Ichigo's gaze dropped to the lilies on the grave, his nails biting into his palms as his emotions churned within him—a volatile mix of anger, grief, and fear. "She didn't deserve that," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "She didn't deserve to lose everything..." His voice trailed off as the unspoken words clawed at his mind.She lost it just asThe moment he had sacrificed everything to use Mugetsu. The hollowing ache that came afterward. He had lost his Zanpakuto, his Zangetsu. He had lost the hol—Ah...His chest tightened as the realization sank in, the pieces of his shattered self falling into place with cruel clarity. "Is that..." His voice faltered, the question forming on his lips before he could stop it. He hesitated, the weight of it so heavy it almost crushed him. Finally, he forced the words out, barely above a whisper. "Is that where I got it?"Ryuken's gaze, sharp and unyielding, shifted to Ichigo, his usual stoic demeanor flickering with a faint trace of confusion. For a moment, he didn't respond, his silence pressing down like a held breath. Then, cool and measured, he spoke."A full question, if you would," Ryuken said, his voice calm but laced with a sharpness that cut through Ichigo's fractured thoughts. He adjusted his glasses with precision, his expression unreadable but expectant, as if daring Ichigo to articulate the storm raging within him.Ichigo clenched his fists tighter, his knuckles white against his skin as he steadied his trembling breath. He stared at the lilies again, the fragile petals swaying gently in the breeze, and tried to gather the words that felt too heavy to speak."Is that where I got my inner hollow from? Is that why it looked so similar to her?" Ichigo's voice trembled slightly, his words raw and edged with desperation, like a blade cutting through the fragile quiet of the cemetery.Ryuken's brows furrowed, the faintest flicker of confusion crossing his otherwise composed features. For a man so rarely caught off guard, it was almost unsettling to see him blink, his calculating demeanor momentarily disrupted. "What exactly do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice sharp but measured, like a scalpel slicing through Ichigo's vagueness.Ichigo exhaled sharply, his fists unclenching as his arms dropped limply to his sides. His gaze flickered to the lilies again, the weight of his memories pressing against him like an unseen force. "My hollow... the one inside me... its mask, its voice, its presence—it always reminded me of her," he admitted, his voice uneven, like he was confessing something he hadn't even fully understood until now. "Not her face, not exactly. But something about it. Its eyes, its shape, the way it felt... It was like a twisted reflection of her. I didn't understand it then. I'm not sure I do now. But it was there."He swallowed hard, his throat dry as the words spilled out, each one dredged up from a part of him he didn't often let surface. "And now, hearing you talk about that hollow—the White Hollow, about how it fought her, about how it... wounded her—it makes me wonder." He paused, his voice growing quieter. "Is that what she left me? What she passed down to me?"Ryuken's posture stiffened, his gaze sharpening into something almost piercing as he studied Ichigo. For a long, heavy moment, he said nothing, his silence as calculating as it was unnerving. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, and precise, as though he were carefully choosing each word.Ryuken's posture stiffened, his gaze sharpening into something almost piercing as he studied Ichigo. For a long, heavy moment, he said nothing, his silence as calculating as it was unnerving. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, precise, as though he were carefully choosing each word."That is impossible," Ryuken said coldly, his tone devoid of emotion, yet heavy with finality. "Completely impossible for you to have anything related to that hollow in you. What lingered from it died with Masaki. It was contained, eradicated, and buried alongside her. " But even Ryuken didn't sound sure of himself now, and so he had to ask.Ryuken's gaze sharpened, his words cutting through the tension like a blade honed to perfection. "Are you certain it was a hollow?" His tone was cold, calculated, each word delivered with the precision of a scalpel. "And when you say it looked like her... what exactly do you mean by that? Be specific. Its face, its movements—did it mimic her in some way ? "He adjusted his glasses with a deliberate motion, his piercing eyes locking onto Ichigo. The unspoken weight behind his question lingered, heavy and unrelenting. Ryuken wasn't merely asking; he was dissecting, analyzing every word Ichigo had said as though searching for a flaw in his reasoning, a crack in the logic that could be exploited."And its mask," Ryuken continued, his voice dropping slightly, the chill in his tone deepening. "Describe it. Every detail you remember. Was there anything distinctive about the shape, markings, or color? "Ichigo swallowed hard, the questions hitting him like a relentless barrage. His mind scrambled to recall the encounter, the fragmented images of the hollow flashing before his eyes—the way it had moved, the unnatural grace that had felt disturbingly familiar. And its face... its mask..."I..." Ichigo's voice wavered, his fingers twitching at his sides. "Its mask... it black, almost completely black, while she was completely white, a mix of both me and my mother, but the mask also had white lines over its eyes, it also had two long forward-pointing horns protruding from the sides of its headRyuken's gaze narrowed, his demeanor ice-cold as he absorbed Ichigo's words. He leaned forward slightly, his presence pressing against the atmosphere of the cemetery like a storm on the horizon. His voice, when it came, was calm and clinical, each word slicing through the air like a scalpel. "Completely white, you say? A mix of both you and your mother?" He adjusted his glasses once more, the slight reflection in the lenses masking the flicker of unease in his eyes. "And these horns... elaborate. Were they symmetrical? Smooth? Jagged? "Ichigo blinked, the flood of questions throwing him off balance. He hadn't thought about the specifics of the horns before—not like this. But Ryuken's interrogation demanded precision. His mind raced as he grasped at the memory of his last time in the inner world, trying to pull every detail into focus."They were jagged," Ichigo began, his voice steady but tinged with unease as he forced himself to recall the details. "They curved forward, starting from the sides of her head, almost reaching toward the center of her face before flaring outward slightly, and then continuing straight ahead."Ryuken's gaze bore into Ichigo, his sharp features betraying none of the turmoil beneath. But inwardly, his mind raced, the revelation tearing through him like a storm. Completely white, with a black mask... a stark inversion of White.He cursed silently, his thoughts tangling with irritation and unease. White. The name itself was a mockery, a crude label devised by Urahara and Isshin—fitting, perhaps, but gratingly simplistic. The hollow they had named was black-bodied with a white mask, and now this boy, standing before him, spoke of a hollow that was its perfect antithesis.Ryuken's jaw tightened imperceptibly, his thoughts colliding as he pieced together the implications. White's legacy should have ended with Masaki. And yet, here Ichigo stood, describing something that should not—could not—exist.But still..."Did it die when you used up your powers?" Ryuken asked, his voice sharp, deliberate, cutting through the air like a razor. His piercing gaze locked onto Ichigo's, unrelenting and cold, as if he were peering directly into the depths of Ichigo's soul, dissecting every reaction.Ichigo flinched under the weight of that stare, a chill running down his spine. For a fleeting moment, he felt as though Ryuken wasn't merely questioning him but silently debating whether to draw an arrow and end him. The intensity of Ryuken's presence made his chest tighten, the sheer gravity of the man's aura suffocating."Yeah... she's gone... everything's gone," Ichigo murmured, his voice hollow, barely above a whisper. The weight of his tone hung in the air, raw and fractured, each word a testament to his exhaustion and despair.Ryuken's gaze sharpened, and he instinctively pulled back the subtle ripple of Reiatsu he hadn't realized he'd been exuding—a quiet force meant to probe, to press, to extract the truth. Ichigo's words cut through it all, hitting deeper than Ryuken had anticipated.Still, despite the boy's broken tone, the faintest flicker of something crossed Ryuken's expression—relief, maybe, or perhaps resignation. He didn't show it, of course. He never did. But within the cold fortress of his composure, one thought lingered, cold and precise:At least... she was avenged.And so they stayed silent in front of her grave......."How exactly did she save my father?" Ichigo couldn't help but ask, his voice tinged with both curiosity and desperation.Ryuken raised an eyebrow, a flicker of annoyance crossing his otherwise stoic face. "Haven't I told you already? She dropped her defenses and focused entirely on the attack. That's how she destroyed the hollow."Ichigo shook his head, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "No, I meant... what kind of powers did she have? Was she like Orihime and Chad? Did she develop them from having a lot of Reiatsu? That's why you were engaged to her, right?" He paused, his words spilling out faster now as he grasped for clarity. "Rukia told me that sometimes in Soul Society, nobles find people with the biggest Reiatsu and—"Ryuken's hand shot up, palm facing Ichigo, a wordless command to stop. The older man's piercing gaze bore into him, sharp and unyielding. "You assume too much," Ryuken said coldly, his tone measured but laced with a subtle edge of irritation. "This isn't Soul Society, and Masaki wasn't some pawn chosen for her spiritual power to fulfill an arrangement."Ichigo faltered under the weight of Ryuken's words, but his gaze remained steadfast. "Then what was it?" he pressed. "If it wasn't about her Reiatsu, then why—?""It wasn't her Reiatsu that mattered," Ryuken interrupted sharply, his voice slicing through Ichigo's question like the edge of a finely honed blade. His gaze, cold and exacting, locked onto Ichigo's. "For Quincy, strength is determined by something far deeper, far more intrinsic. It depends on the purity of one's bloodline."Ichigo's brow furrowed, confusion etched across his face. The weight of Ryuken's words seemed to hang in the air, but their meaning eluded him, leaving him grasping for clarity.Ryuken exhaled slowly, a faint trace of frustration flickering across his otherwise composed features. "Your lack of understanding is... unsurprising," he remarked, his voice laced with a cold detachment. "I suppose I can't fault you entirely for it. After all, you've spent most of your life in ignorance—no thanks to your father."Adjusting his glasses, Ryuken's gaze softened—just slightly—though the stern edge in his eyes remained. It was the faintest crack in his otherwise impenetrable demeanor, as though he were resigning himself to a task he found both tedious and inevitable. His shoulders shifted, barely perceptibly, as if shaking off the irritation that had clung to him since the conversation began."Still, it is exhausting," he muttered under his breath, his tone carrying the sharp bite of disdain, "how utterly blind you remain to the forces that have shaped your very existence. Truly, the ignorance you carry is almost impressive in its breadth."Ryuken let out a heavy sigh, the kind that spoke of long-standing frustrations he had little patience left to hide. Without another word, he reached into his pocket, his movements deliberate and precise. Ichigo's eyes followed the motion, curiosity and unease flickering across his face as he watched Ryuken retrieve a small object—a simple metallic pendant hanging from a chain.The pendant glinted faintly in the light, unmistakably shaped like a Quincy cross.The sight of it made Ichigo's breath hitch for reasons he couldn't fully articulate. There was something about the object—something unfamiliar yet unnervingly familiar—that sent a chill down his spine. Before he could speak, Ryuken flicked the cross in his direction with a sharp, calculated motion."Catch," he commanded, his voice crisp and unyielding. The cross arced through the air, gleaming briefly before Ichigo instinctively caught it in his hand.The moment the cold metal met his skin, an unexplainable sensation coursed through Ichigo—a faint vibration, almost like a heartbeat, pulsing faintly in his palm. His brow furrowed as he stared down at the object, his fingers curling around it unconsciously. The weight of it felt disproportionate, not in its physical mass but in something intangible—something he couldn't quite name."What... is this?" Ichigo asked hesitantly, his voice low as his amber eyes flickered back up to meet Ryuken's piercing gaze.Ryuken's lips pressed into a thin line, his expression inscrutable. "That," he said coolly, "is a Quincy cross. It serves as a focal point, a conduit for the powers inherent to our kind. It is more than a symbol, Kurosaki—it is a representation of lineage, of heritage, and of purpose."Ichigo's grip on the cross tightened slightly, his confusion deepening. "But why give this to me? I don't—" He hesitated, his thoughts racing. "I'm not... a Quincy."Ryuken let out a low, humorless chuckle, the sound devoid of warmth. "You speak as if you know what you are," he said, his tone razor-sharp. "When in reality, you barely understand the blood that flows through your veins. Do you truly think this conversation is about you being given something? No, Kurosaki—this is about you realizing what's already inside of you."Ichigo's eyes narrowed, frustration rising to the surface. "What's that supposed to mean? Stop talking in riddles and just tell me!"Ryuken stepped forward, his imposing presence filling the space between them. "Do you think power manifests randomly?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air like ice. "Do you believe that strength like yours—strength tied to both Shinigami and Hollow—is purely coincidence? Your mother's sacrifice, your father's choices, the very bloodlines that converge within you—none of it is coincidence."Ichigo swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly as he looked down at the Quincy cross in his hand. The faint pulse he'd felt earlier now seemed to resonate deeper, almost like it was responding to the turmoil within him."Your mother," Ryuken repeated, his tone unwavering, "was a Quincy of the highest caliber. Her bloodline was exceptional—pure and powerful—a rarity among our kind, especially as we teetered on the brink of extinction. Our engagement wasn't a matter of sentiment or convenience, Kurosaki. It was calculated—an act of survival for a lineage desperately clinging to its existence."The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the cemetery. Ichigo stood frozen, his mind reeling as Ryuken's words dug into him like shards of glass. His breath caught in his throat, his thoughts scattering as he tried to reconcile this revelation with everything he thought he knew about his mother."W—What?!" The words stumbled out of him, trembling with disbelief. He felt his voice waver, as if saying the words aloud might somehow change their meaning. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the Quincy cross in his palm biting into his skin. "What are you talking about? She was a Quincy?!"The scream tore from his throat before he even realized he was shouting, his raw voice cutting through the stillness. His amber eyes burned with a mix of anger and confusion, demanding answers as his gaze bore into Ryuken.Ryuken remained impassive, his sharp features betraying no emotion beyond a faint flicker of annoyance at Ichigo's outburst. He adjusted his glasses with a deliberate motion, the act almost dismissive in its precision."Yes," Ryuken said plainly, his tone as cold as the wind that swept through the graveyard. "Masaki Kurosaki was a Quincy. Born into the Kurosaki's bloodline. she carried within her the purity of a legacy that most of our kind can only dream of preserving. That purity made her invaluable—not only to her family but to the survival of the Quincy as a whole."Ichigo's breathing quickened as the words sank in, his chest heaving as his mind struggled to piece together this new truth. His mother, the warm, gentle woman who had always been his greatest source of comfort and strength—she had been part of a world he barely understood, tied to a power that now coursed through his own veins."You're lying," Ichigo spat, his voice shaking but defiant. "She—she never said anything! My dad never said anything! She was just... she was just my mom! She wasn't—she couldn't have been a Quincy!"Ryuken's sharp gaze bore into Ichigo, cutting through his protests like a blade. "Do you think the truth ceases to exist simply because it was hidden from you?" he asked, his voice like ice. "Do you think your ignorance absolves you from the reality of what your mother was? Masaki didn't tell you because she chose to leave that part of herself behind. She believed she could create a life outside of it—a life with your father. But her blood, her power, her legacy—those things do not vanish simply because one wishes them to."Ichigo staggered back a step, his mind reeling as memories of his mother flooded his thoughts. He saw her smile, the way she had always protected him and his sisters, the warmth she radiated even in the most difficult moments. And now, layered over those memories, was the image of a woman he had never truly known—a Quincy, wielding powers he couldn't fully comprehend, tied to a world of duty and sacrifice."But..." Ryuken began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, his eyes fixed on Masaki's grave. For a moment, the sharp edges of his demeanor softened, his usual icy composure giving way to something heavier, something almost regretful. The wind rustled the lilies, their petals trembling like unspoken words caught in the air."It's not like it matters anymo—" Ryuken turned, intending to finish his sentence, his tone colder as he shifted his gaze back toward Ichigo. But the words froze on his tongue.Ichigo was gone.The spot where he had stood was empty, save for a single footprint pressed into the pavement.For a moment, Ryuken stood there, unmoving, his thoughts a storm behind his calm exterior. " Huh, Intresting... So quick to run," he murmured, his voice low, laced with a mixture of irritation and something unspoken. His fingers brushed against the edge of his pocket, where another Quincy cross lay, as if the weight of it anchored him to the present.He pivoted on his heel, turning back toward Masaki's grave. A faint frown flickered over his otherwise impassive features, too fleeting to be called regret but enough to suggest a trace of emotion buried beneath the ice. "Just like your father," he muttered, the words scarcely audible, whisked away by the soft, insistent wind.For a moment, he said nothing more, his attention seemingly riveted on the lilies that swayed gently at the grave's base. Then, in a voice laced with resignation, he spoke again—this time to no one in particular, perhaps to the wind itself. "Well, as I said... it isn't my problem anymore."With that terse pronouncement, Ryuken inclined his head toward the gravestone in an acknowledgment that bordered on reluctant respect. Then he turned and walked away, each step echoing on the paved ground. Only a few short meters separated Masaki's grave from another, more modest headstone. He came to a halt in front of it, the tension in his posture betraying an undercurrent of frustration or perhaps a deeper conflict.There, in the hush of the cemetery, he stood, silent and composed, his coat stirring faintly in the breeze. The world around him was still, as if waiting for him to move or speak again. But Ryuken offered neither. He only stared, unreadable and unspoken thoughts playing across his cool, inscrutable gaze, as he stared at the grave of...Kanae Katagiri" Do you know what you have just done ? " A voice spoke from behind Ryuken...........TO BE CONTINUED !My shitty discord - https://discord.gg/7SwQYNR9z3