Chapter 27: Road to hell paved with good Intentions 1/2

I got a surprise for you all this April 1st, a new chapter! Huzah! I do hope you all enjoy it.

Please leave any comments and criticism in the form of a review. We don't care if its positive or negative, We'll still appreciate it.

Thank you once again Greatkingrat88.

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

Ichigo was not able to get much sleep that night, which was why, on the universal principle of 'fuck it', that he got up quite early. After a quick shower, he found himself munching quite slowly on a bowl of increasingly soggy cereal, lacking the drive to actually cook anything. After a little while, his mother came down, and wordlessly joined him. She seemed worse for the wear, looking drained, even exhausted- last night had to have been hard on her, and he wondered if she had gotten any more sleep than he had. Probably less.

Looking at her, it was like seeing somebody new- somebody who had lied to him, deceived him, even to a point where it had endangered him. But it was also the person who had sat in with him when he was seven years old and sick with fever, who had made him cocoa and read him stories. It was the person who had listened to him when he was angry, comforted him when he was sad, and told him off when he had been a brat. It was the person who still worked the same part time job so her family could make ends meet- his dad was well meaning all right, and not a bad doctor, but his clinic turned a very small profit.

In short, the person who sat across him at the breakfast table was a liar. And also the person he loved the most in the whole wide world. No matter how angry it had made him, no matter how justified that felt, he couldn't be angry with her. It was just impossible.

Hell, somehow the bags under her eyes, the messy hair, the weary look… somehow, it made him feel guilty.

Which made no sense. After all, he was the wronged one here. She wasn't even trying to manipulate him, just chewing down some toast. But somehow, just seeing her like this- as less than the happy, loving mom she always was- made him feel wrong.

"Uh, so," he began, not sure where to go.

"Yes?" Masaki said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Um." He said, trailing off for a bit. "Uh, er. We should… talk. Right?"

"I know you're mad," Masaki said quietly. "Just please don't shout at me. Yuzu and Karin are still asleep, and I don't want them to hear us fighting."

"N-no, I won't scream," Ichigo said. Either his mom was the most deviously cunning manipulator in existence, or she knew how to twist a knife without even knowing that she did it. Which made no sense. But nevertheless, she was doing it. "It's just… I mean, there's stuff I wanna know."

Masaki nodded. "Such as?"

Ichigo blinked. Where did you even begin?

"It's not every day you find out your mom and dad are like… spiritual superhero-people, or something," he murmured. "Um," he said, realizing there was a lot of 'ums' in his words at the moment, "um, what about your family? These… quincies?"

Masaki sighed.

"I don't know all of the history myself. The short of it is, once upon a time there were a lot of humans who could manipulate spiritual energy just by drawing on it from their surroundings. Quincies. They date back… at least a thousand years. Then there were wars with the shinigami, and almost all of them died out. Some of them went to Japan, and began thinking in ways that would have made Adolf Hitler proud. Your cousin Ishida's grandmother was one of them. I was supposed to have married Ryuken, you see, but your dad came along."

Ichigo swallowed. That was a lot of information to process all at once.

"…uh huh." He managed at last. "So you're like… a not-nazi version of these people. That's good."

"There's a lot more details, and I'll tell you more when we have time," Masaki said, gesturing toward the clock. She had work soon, naturally. "For now, ask away."

"Um. Yeah. So what about dad?"

"A big shot among the shinigami," Masaki said. "He lost his powers, and decided to fake his death and start a new life here. I don't really know a lot about the shinigami. Your aunt and your father are the only ones I've really known, and they mostly keep quiet about their past."

Ichigo nodded. "And Auntie Erza…"

"Much the same as your dad. Exiled, new life. We took her in a couple of months after your dad and I became a couple."

Ichigo took a deep breath. It was time to ask the big question.

"Mom, why did you hide this from us?"

There was a slight twitch at Masaki's eyebrow, a small tremble, and somehow Ichigo felt like a bastard.

"You know, growing up under the quincies…" She said, sighing. "It was duty this, duty that. Superior this, inferior that. My great aunt wanted me to essentially be a baby machine for Ryuken. To have 'pure' children."

"Gross," Ichigo mumbled.

"Yes," Masaki said, and nodded, "but it wasn't just that. For the longest time… no freedom, no respect, no anything. I was expected to do nothing but serve the quincy cause, which was whatever my aunt said it was. It was… awful. Everything was so full of hate. Everything we did was coloured by who was inferior, who we were better than, how we needed to stay pure. It was like a cult- no, it was a cult. I never met any quincies beside my family, not ever, and as far as I know they might all be dead. Well… almost all. But then came your father, and he was so… different. We were supposed to think of shinigami as monsters, and he was anything but. He was… you could call him my rebellious phase. Except it wasn't a phase, and he made me happy. But as far as I knew, from what he and Erza told me, the shinigami weren't much better. All my life, I went around thinking that the spiritual world was nothing but trouble, nothing but angry, hateful people, monsters, and…"

She sighed, and shook her head.

"I just wanted a normal family. I just wanted so badly to be normal. I wanted my kids to grow up and be whoever they wanted to be, without this whole thing hanging over them. It's not fair. Nobody should have to live their childhood with 'there's a hidden world full of monsters out to get you' hanging over their head. Well, also… I guess I didn't like the idea of being wrong. You don't know it, but you will one day- when you have kids, you'll do anything to protect them, and when somebody else say you're not doing it right, you won't like it."

Ichigo nodded. "I… understand. I guess."

Masaki shook her head again, slowly. "I think deep down I always knew she was right. But I just kept pushing it away, acting like I could just protect you all the time… but I can't, huh?"

The way she looked at him made something in him ache.

"Auntie told me," he murmured, "that protecting others is great. But sometimes… you have to let them protect themselves. Because you can't move forward when you're dependent on someone else."

Masaki nodded. "Stupid Erza and her simple wisdom…" she muttered. "Yeah, I was wrong. That's about it, I suppose." She sounded quite defeated.

"You did great." Ichigo said firmly. "You're the best mom I could ever ask for, and don't you ever forget it."

"Thanks." She said simply, and smiled. "Well… I have to get to work now, and I think I sense Erza coming our way. Good luck, Ichigo."

Ichigo just nodded. He was still just fifteen, still just a boy, and saying the right words when there was emotion running through you was just not his strength. He knew what mattered, though. Masaki was his mom, and she cared about him and his sisters more than anybody else.

Before they knew it, two weeks had passed, although they sometimes felt like two months, two years, two eternities to Ichigo. He ate, he slept, and above all else, he trained. There was kendo form. There was reiatsu control. There were basics of everything. More than everything there was fighting, because Erza turned out to be a very practical, hands-on kind of teacher. "Hands-on" meaning that his fingers, arms, legs, constantly ached, that he even had a fractured rib or two. The training was hard, and no doubt.

She was an experienced mentor though, Ichigo noticed. She constantly pushed him, but not too hard- but almost. She always kept her level of fighting just slightly above his, enough that he had a chance to fight and learn. When he had lost a bout, she would retrace the steps that led him there, force him to work out why exactly he had lost, make him repeat it until he knew it, before starting all over again. Where before his head had been filled with questions of mathematics, literature, science, culture, and everything else he might have been thinking of in his free time, it was now violence. Structured, carefully measured violence in so many shades more than Ichigo could ever have imagined, all day, every day, not even Sundays off. Because as Erza put it, danger doesn't take a vacation and neither will you.

Two weeks after his training he was… something else. It wasn't nearly enough, Erza said, and Ichigo believed her- but at least now, he swung his sword without leaving huge openings. He charged forward with a plan in mind. He knew his limits, if only because they had been thoroughly beaten into him.

So it was that Sunday of the second week, by evening, Ichigo finally collapsed onto his ass, sweat dripping off him, having been thoroughly tired out by one of Erza's training regimens. He took a moment to breather, and Erza sat down cross-legged across him, bringing out a couple of snack boxes, prepared by his mother. Wordlessly, Ichigo sunk his teeth into a sandwich, and a couple of minutes passed as he ate, breathed, and let himself relax. Erza ate too, although Ichigo could tell she had barely broken a sweat.

"So…" He murmured at last, taking a couple of deep breaths, "How uh, how am I doing?"

"To be honest, I'd prefer to train you for at least five years." Erza said. "And by 'prefer', I mean 'you can kiss your free time goodbye'."

Ichigo groaned. "Can I at least go back to school?"

"In that regard?" Erza said, and nodded. "You are passable. I trust that you have the strength to not be overrun by simple hollows, and if you listened, then you also have the brains to not take on something beyond your level."

Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. 'Passable' was not much, but somehow that simple word made him feel proud. His auntie, the great big shinigami, thought he was okay. It was uplifting.

"Don't you worry," he murmured, resting himself on his arms, "if it's too big, I'll leg it. Let you handle it."

Erza nodded. "Or you'll be sorry."

"Yes, yes, as in I'll wish the hollow got to me first," Ichigo said, waving off the implied threat. Not that she wouldn't make good on it, not that she didn't make a convincing bully, but the threats had lost their edge just a little.

"We'll have to work on your control," Erza said, ignoring his comment. "By that I mean your spirit power, and nothing else. It is probably your biggest weakness."

"I'm crazy strong, right?" Ichigo said. "That's what I keep hearing."

"You are," Erza admitted. "But most of it goes to waste. Let's say…" She hesitated a little, thinking for a short while. "When you want to make toast, you set the toaster to the exact heat and time you want… actually, that's a terrible analogy. Spirit energy is more like…" She grumbled, and rummaged her mind for an appropriate analogy. "Screw it." She murmured at last. "Your output is much, much bigger than you need. You have power, but you use too much energy for everything you do. You blaze it away, which means you tire out much faster. It's like doing the dishes with a high pressure hose- yes, that's it!" She said, nodding proudly to herself, finally having thought of the right analogy.

"High pressure water," She continued, "when all you need is an even stream. Learn to control your power, and you will be very powerful indeed."

"Right…" Ichigo said. "I'm a rookie, I get it. But I think I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. Right?"

"No, you're a scrub," Erza said casually, shooting Ichigo's confidence down bluntly. "You're stronger than most normal shinigami, but most of them would still beat you. In almost any case, skill beats power. Control is a skill, and it needs to be learned."

"…so how long did it take you to learn?" Ichigo asked, feeling like he wouldn't like the answer.

"Aside from the five years in academy, it took me decades to perfect," Erza said casually. "I'm still not happy with it, to be honest."

"Great." Ichigo said, sighing. "But I can fight hollows. I'm that strong at least."

"Yes." Erza said flatly.

"Well, whatever gets the job done…" Ichigo murmured.

Erza looked at him with steel in her eyes.

"Listen carefully. You must never let yourself be the idiot with a lot of power who just runs in and hopes for the best because he's that strong. That's how you get yourself killed. I've been there, and it's stupid. You already have the passive benefits of a strong energy- you're durable. You could endure serious injuries and keep going, wounds that would kill a human. But with focus, with training, you could learn to fight literally for days if you had to. Rather than being able to go on despite a serious injury, you could learn to avoid it in the first place. If you are in control of yourself, you could rise to the highest level of shinigami, and I don't say that lightly."

"…gotcha." Ichigo said, and nodded, knowing better than to contradict her. "Skill beats power."

"Almost always." Erza said.

"Almost?"

"…let me tell you about the Gotei," Erza said slowly. Ichigo couldn't help but feel a pang of excitement; this was a subject she had said precious little about.

"Their highest tiers of fighters are the captains and their vice-captains." Erza began, and despite her serious tone, there was something wistful about her as she began to explain. "The vice-captains are giants in their own right. Fiercely trained, veteran soldiers who would floor somebody like you without effort. But the captains… they are titans, Ichigo. There are thirteen of them, and they are the fundament of the Gotei's strength."

"That good, huh?" Ichigo said, listening intently.

"You have no idea," Erza said. "What makes them so strong is not just their raw power, their experience, but their expertise. These are the people who have developed their zanpakutou to its final stage. It is a technique of unsurpassed power."

"Huh?" Ichigo said, looking at his own zanpakutou. "Final stage?"

"Another discussion," Erza said dismissively. "Suffice to say there's a lot more to the sword than meets the eye. "Among them, these titans, is one man they call 'the demon of Zaraki', a vicious thug from the most hellish district in the afterlife. He is Kenpachi, the foremost fighter. Their champion, if you will." She began undoing her shihakusho, and slid it off, leaving her only in her chest wrappings. Puzzled, Ichigo looked at her, while at the same time trying to not linger too long anywhere inappropriate. Thoughts of modesty, however, were superseded by what he saw. Scars, large and small, littering her arms, her shoulder, her stomach. Some almost faded, little more than a white line, other being marked by a thick, red scar tissue. There was no doubt about it- his auntie had seen her share of fighting.

"D-demon, right?" Ichigo mumbled, as he eyed her scars.

"He gave me this," She said, gesturing at her left shoulder, where a red mark ran down her chest, down her side, disappearing under her belt. "It goes down to the hip. The demon of Zaraki gave me this, for no reason other than he wanted to, because he lives to fight. Skill almost always trumps power. He is the exception."

"…I see," Ichigo mumbled. What had she been through? She had had a whole life, it occurred to him, before she came here. "Why do you show me this?"

"Because this demon," Erza said, distaste in her mouth, "is everything you shouldn't be. Not because he's a bastard, or because he's a psychotic monster- although those are bad things, don't be those either- but because he wastes all of his talent because he is addicted to the thrill of fighting. He is fiercely powerful, but he could be so much more if he put his back into it and trained. You could go far on raw strength alone, Ichigo, far enough to even rival a captain- but you wouldn't be half the fighter you could be." She put her coat back on, and tied it together neatly. "There is no excuse for that kind of sloppiness. We fight to protect ourselves and our own, and because of that it's our duty to be strong. Not for ourselves, but for our family and friends."

"…I understand." Ichigo mumbled, not sure how to feel.

"You don't, but it's nice of you to try." Erza said matter-of-factly. "Train. Fight. Find a goal to do it for. Never stop. Do that, and you will become truly strong. There are no shortcuts. You're strong and you have potential, but it takes hard work and focus."

"Yes, sensei," Ichigo mumbled.

"It's been a while since anybody called me that," Erza said. "I mean, the kids at the dojo do, but… it's not the same as this."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, no," she said dismissively. "I like it, actually."

Ichigo nodded.

"You've come far, actually." Erza admitted. "Most of it is ahead of you, but… you've done all right."

"Thanks," Ichigo said. "So um… I was wondering, while we were training…"

"Yes?"

"Who looked after the town? Hollows and all?"

"The shopkeeper." Erza said. "He's a former shinigami himself, and powerful at that. He might seem like an idiot, sometimes, but that's a complete and utter lie. For now, he helps us- no doubt keeping an eye on us in the process."

Ichigo nodded. "All right. Anything else I should know?"

"Not till I tell you so," Erza said. "Training is done for the day. Monday you go back to school, and after that is done, you come right here. Understood?"

"Yes, sensei," Ichigo said.

He sat, just sat, and relaxed himself. His muscles burned, just a little, like they should after a good workout, and it struck him how far he had come in just two weeks. Erza had started to cultivate his power, and it had already made him stronger. The first day, Erza on his back with that enormous sword had been exhausting. Now he could do it for an hour before he started to get tired. He could spar for hours straight- as he often had- without doing more than sweating. This kind of endurance was amazing. This body… it felt so much like a human body in so many ways, yet it was so obviously inhuman. Superhuman. Contemplatively, he looked at his hand. He made a fist, opened it slowly, feeling each finger move, then made a fist again. Power. So much power, so much that it was almost scary. He was almost one of a kind, his aunt had told him, unlike anything she had ever seen. Why? How? Why was he this much stronger?

Well, wondering why did him no good. He'd find his answers in due time. Till then, the most important thing was mastering this strength. For family. For responsibility. And just a little for himself.

"Hey, Ichigo!"

A cheery voice interrupted his train of thought, and Ichigo looked up to see Orihime walking up to him, carrying a bottle of water.

"Orihime?" He said. "You're here too?"

"I brought you something to drink," she said, and held out the bottle. Not one to question water after a heavy workout, Ichigo took the bottle and drank greedily from it.

"I watched you train," Orihime explained, as he took swig after swig of water. "I hope you don't mind…"

"Nnnhnn," Ichigo said, holding up one finger. Finally having drunk half the bottle, he took a long, satisfied breath, and looked up at her. After a pause, he said,

"Uhm, no problem I guess. It's not like this is a big secret or anything."

"It's just so… cool," Orihime said, sounding a little like a seven-year-old who had just seen her first dinosaur skeleton. "Erza is… so strong, so fast, a real shinigami. And you're keeping up with her, too!"

"More like getting my ass kicked," Ichigo muttered, and took another sip of water. "I'm learning all right, it's just that it hurts. Didn't think anything could hurt worse than math, but my aunt takes the cake."

Orihime giggled. "You're making jokes. You can't be in that bad a shape."

"Or maybe it's just how I mask my cold, dead inside," Ichigo snorted. "Hiding the pain that's eating me alive, and all that."

Orihime laughed this time. "You'd need pale white makeup and black hair dye to make me believe that. Come to think of it, that would make for a great addition to your superhero costume. You already wear all black, and then you'd look like a real reaper…" She had that tone on her that she always had when she was drifting off into imagination.

"It's not a superhero costume," Ichigo said, and groaned as he stood up. "It's a shihakusho. A uniform."

"You're right. You really need a cape," Orihime said, nodding as if it were obvious. "You could be the Ginger Reaper, stalking the night in pursuit of great justice and protecting the innocent!"

"That is a horrible nickname," Ichigo protested. "It'd be something way cooler, like…"

"The Flaming I?" Orihime suggested cheerily. "Because of your hair, and how your name begins with an I. Or maybe the Bat-Reaper? Or the Giant Sword? The Atomic Nuke?"

"No, no, no, and that last one doesn't even have anything to do with my powers," Ichigo grunted. "Maybe it'd be-"

"Hey, Ichigo!" He was interrupted by Erza, who was walking up to him quickly. "You can socialize later. We got work to do."

"Hey, I thought training was done!" Ichigo protested. "You slave-driver!"

"Hollow attack," Erza said simply, in that hard, direct tone. "Ready up. You're about to get your first proper real life experience."

"Oh, man…" Ichigo mumbled, and went to retrieve his sword from the ground.

"Hollows don't care about your schedule." Erza said. "Go on, hurry, hurry."

"Can I come?" Orihime asked.

"No," Erza said sternly. Seeing the look on Orihime's face, her tone softened somewhat. "It could be dangerous. Maybe if you learn some powers of your own."

"Well, I'm good," Ichigo grumbled, sword leaned over his shoulder. "Where's this hollow?"

The two of them exited the shop's basement, to find Rukia waiting for them on the outside. She looked less than pleased, as had been her expression for most of these two weeks, although Ichigo was hesitant to judge her. He had no idea what sort of grudge there was between her and Erza, aside from what he'd been told, and for all he knew she could have some point. Besides, losing your powers and being dependent on somebody else couldn't be too fun.

"I see you got the alarm too," she said curtly.

"Correct," Erza said neutrally. "We are heading out now."

"You wanna come?" Ichigo blurted out. It seemed only right, given that he was borrowing her powers.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Rukia said. "Two weeks of training isn't a lot."

"Well, your idea in the first place was doing this exact thing only with no training," Erza said. "So… you can hop onto Ichigo's back, or you can stand here arguing about it."

"…don't think I trust you," Rukia said grudgingly to Erza, as she climbed onto Ichigo's back.

"Actions speak louder than words," Erza said, and shrugged. "You'll see. Come on, Ichigo, and don't fall behind."

Instantly she sped off, Ichigo just barely matching her pace. He suspected that she could move much faster, but decided to focus on breathing and running rather than beating himself up. Following Erza and her senses, they were led to a back alley a mile or two away. As they got closer, Ichigo could feel it too, the malignant, thick presence of a hollow, like a foul-smelling syrup in the air. He was still an amateur at sensing reiatsu, but even so it was hard to miss. It was like a stench, like a rotting carcass on the roadside…

The trio landed on a rooftop, just above the monster. Rukia hopped off his back, and Ichigo's first instinct was to jump down, sword out, and confront it. However, his second thought held him back, a thought of his training- don't rush in. Look first.

So he looked, and saw Erza nod approvingly. From the rooftop, he looked down and saw it. It was ugly, as they all seemed. There were black markings around its mouth, like some perverse kind of lipstick, and its head was long and almost rectangular, and there was a coat of fur around its neck. It had a mostly humanoid shape, and most curiously, it was towering over a teenager. Who was holding what looked like a telephone pole.

"That's extraordinary," Rukia said, almost gasping. "A human?" She watched as the young man swung the pole like a gigantic club, somehow driving the beast back a step.

"He has power," Erza mumbled. "Real power. Spiritual energy."

"I think I know him," Ichigo mumbled. "Yasutora Chad. He transferred over here a couple of months ago, came from Mexico of all places. Pretty good guy, actually."

"Well, he can't keep this up," Erza said. "Ichigo, you've identified the threat, and you've got the drop on him. Go."

"Yes, sensei," Ichigo said firmly, holding his sword out.

The monster roared and finally swatted aside the telephone pole, ripping it out of Chad's hands. Defiantly, the boy stood his ground, fists balled, and as Ichigo dropped down from the rooftop he was reminded of himself, just a couple of weeks ago, standing up to something he couldn't beat- only he had been scared shitless. Chad had guts, you had to give it to him.

Just as the hollow surged forward, arm raised to smash the young Mexican, Ichigo landed between them, catching the monster's arm with his blade. He could feel the asphalt crack under his feet, and felt the rush of power as his reiatsu began to blaze, his power fully activating. The monster pushed with a tremendous force, and Ichigo flexed his muscles, pushing back. It was strong, but he was stronger. It was nothing, nothing at all, compared to his aunt.

"What the hell is this?" The hollow snarled. "Shinigami? Out of my way, scum!"

"Pot, kettle, black," Ichigo grunted, and pushed the hollow back, one steps, two steps. Partly to get the monster away from Chad, and partly because he enjoyed it, the feeling of strength as he began to overpower it.

"Stop lollygagging, Ichigo!" Erza shouted from the rooftop. "Finish it quickly- don't drag it out!"

"Yes, sensei!" Ichigo shouted, not willing to brave Erza's anger. He dodged under a vicious swipe from the hollow's free arm, and cut it across the chest. The monster staggered back a few steps, and roared with anger. Furiously, it brought both its arms high, and brought them both down to crush him. Quickly, Ichigo thought of a plan- he could dodge, take a step back, but…

The arms came down, and Ichigo blocked it, putting one hand far up on the dull side of his blade. He felt the strain, felt the ground under his feet protest as it nearly cracked. It was hard, but he only needed a second. Quickly, he lashed out with one foot, connecting with the forwardly placed knee of the monster. It cried out, surprised, and sunk to one knee. Having lost its balance, its arms slid off Ichigo's blade, and caught the ground to recover. For just an instance it was down, on the ground, its larger frame completely pointless. Quickly Ichigo raised his sword, and brought it down. Just once, across the mask…

But at the last second, the hollow twisted to the side. Ichigo's blade glanced off the mask, and cut into the monster's shoulder, straight through it, leaving a vicious flesh wound. Bleeding, but far from done, the hollow got to its feet and let out a shriek.

"You filthy little rat bastard…" It snarled. "You're not worth risking my hide for. Bye, shinigami!" It raised its arms, and a couple of bat-like wings extended from them. Instantly the beast flapped them, and took flight.

"No you don't!" Ichigo shouted, and jumped forward, up on high. His blade almost hit home, scratching the monster's underbelly, but it was not enough. As Ichigo landed he felt angry, frustrated- but before he could so much as swear, Erza had moved. In an instant, or so it seemed, she had jumped from her rooftop and to the ground, and as she landed so did the hollow, its wings clipped. It was amazing just how quickly she had done it, and Ichigo stared at her in awe.

"What are you looking at?" She said sternly. "Finish it. Now!"

"Y-yes, sensei!" Ichigo said, and charged forward, holding his blade low.

"There's two of you?" The hollow shrieked, raising its arms in defense. "That's not fair!"