Chapter Text
Kurosaki Ichigo dies in his sleep a day after his birthday, final moments surrounded by his family and close friends. Mere twenty-one years of human life, too painfully young but have gone through more than most Shinigami ever will.
After the battle with Yhwach and maintaining the barriers between the worlds, he felt it. Something is dismantling his spirit form, reishi by reishi. Kisuke did what he could after recovering from his own near-death experience, a crude patchwork job with Benihime’s threads.
It was no use, he was unraveling. Kisuke suspects that it might be the world’s attempt at regaining balance. The influx of quincies and bleed-through of power between worlds is too much after centuries of stagnation. His eyes glazed through the more in-depth explanation, but he got the gist – his power has transcended too fast and too high for the world to catch up.
In usual Ichigo fashion, he stomped everyone’s growing grief, their eyes looking at him as if he was already dead, and proceeded to live his life to the fullest.
He did his Substitute Shinigami duties, though he noticed the lighter load, most of the hollows were exterminated before the third beep. He spent more time with his sisters, occasionally visiting his extended family in Sereitei, and accepted Uryu’s adorable fussing (“I’m not fussing, Kurosaki.”). He occasionally sparred and played tag with Kisuke and Yoruichi and got invited to pajama parties with the Visoreds and Arrancars. He surprised himself with his occasional tea with Aizen in his new chair and reinforced prison, passive-aggressive banter and bits of dark humor in between.
Orihime and Kisuke did their best to maintain his form, but it came to a point where his human and spirit forms became indistinguishable. Both humans and spirits would occasionally lose sight of him, even while standing in front of them.
While he is angry and bitter that he won’t be able to at least enjoy the fruits of his labors longer after sacrificing everything he had, Ichigo is relieved that he has protected everyone. All he wanted was to protect and have the power to protect, and despite the circumstances, he is glad that he succeeded. His family is and will be safe, Kisuke swore.
He doesn’t know what to expect when the world deems you too powerful to exist and erases your existence. Though it doesn’t feel like his soul is being disintegrated, he doesn’t know why he’s even conscious, but he can feel every part of himself flowing in trickles to a point. The next thing he knew was pain, a level he had never even experienced, more painful than when his soul was torn apart.
Gravity presses down on every side, mashing his body like play-dough, and he wonders if this is what people felt under the full weight of his reiatsu. His bones are melting and shifting, a whole different experience from the first few times he turned into a hollow. The worried voices of both Zangetsu echo in his mind, doing their best to keep him intact. Something warps and wraps around his Soul Chain before he finally falls into the bliss of unconsciousness.
When he comes to, it’s to the sight of a pink-haired child looking worriedly over him.
“Onii-san, are you okay?”