Bleach:Zangetsu

"Do you know why I hate the rain, Soul Reaper?"

A small boy, no older than seven, knelt in the downpour, his drenched orange hair sticking to his face. His yellow rain jacket, stained with dark red blood, clung to his small frame. The rain didn't seem to matter to him, nor did the cold — only the intense emotions swirling within him, reflected in his piercing gaze. His eyes, dark and full of grief, stared blankly ahead as he held her in his arms.

In his arms lay a woman, her long orange hair spread out in the rain, her body still and lifeless. A deep gash marred her back, and her form shimmered with fading spiritual particles, almost like they were slipping away in the downpour. On her right wrist, a shattered white bow lay in pieces, now reduced to a chain.

The rain intensified, the storm grew more violent as the sky cracked with a loud thunderclap. White pillars of light shot up from the earth, piercing the sky and making it glow with an unnatural brilliance. Time itself seemed to stop, the world held in a moment of heavy stillness.

A figure appeared — an old man, his long black hair whipped around in the wind, cloaked in robes that seemed to be made of swirling, dark energy. He wore gold-tinted sunglasses, obscuring his eyes, yet his presence radiated a detached, almost indifferent calm. His gaze settled on the boy.

The boy, his hollow mask covering his face, lifted his eyes to meet the man's gaze. His eyes held cold Determination and anger as they locked with the man's. A silence stretched between them, one filled with unspoken understanding.

Then, just as quickly as the man had appeared, he vanished, disappearing into the air like mist dissolving in the wind. The boy was left standing alone in the storm, his hollow eyes still staring at the empty space where the man had once been. The rain continued to pour, 

The figure standing across from him was calm and unperturbed, His green haori fluttered lightly in the wind, though the man's stance was solid, grounded. His wide-brimmed straw hat shielded his face as his dirty blond hair stuck to his face. His eyes carried glint of calculation, His Frown, always one of quiet contemplation, held no trace of fear or hesitation — just the distant, ever-observing presence of someone who had seen far too much of the world's cruelty.

In his hand, held an umbrella, though it wasn't an ordinary one. The umbrella, seemingly flimsy and inconspicuous, was as much a weapon as any Zanpakuto, It was as much a part of him as his Zanpakuto, Benihime, which rested just within reach, tied securely at his waist. The man's grip on it was relaxed.

His eyes, still hidden beneath the brim of his hat, studied the boy intently, assessing the raw spiritual energy the child was emitting. A bone-white mask began to form on the right side of his face, streaked with three crimson lines. The spiritual pressure emanating from the child was staggering, far beyond what anyone his age should possess — it rivaled a Lieutenant's strength with ease. Urahara couldn't help but mutter to himself, his tone grim. Urahara's lips quirked downward slightly as his thoughts took a darker turn.

"I feared this would happen... but I didn't think it would come so soon."

"Do you know the fear of being Rained on?" The boy continued as his spiritual pressure erupted like a torrent of wind, Before Urahara eyes the dust and spiritual pressure took the shape of a a hollows mask as it let lose a roar, crimson lightning crackled from the whirl wind as multiple ghostly hollow roars echoed from the wind. 

The boy, still clutching His mother's corpse in his arms, rose to his feet. His face was now entirely obscured by his Hollow mask and crimson orbs, and with it, a low growl echoed from him, filled with anger and despair.

"To stop that rain..." the boy hissed, before charging at Urahara.

Urahara's response was swift, his voice commanding as he shouted, "Scream, Benihime!"

A wave of crimson light erupted from Urahara's Zanpakuto, clashing against the boy's growing spiritual energy. The two forces collided with a deafening impact, the air vibrating with the intensity of their clash.

"It-sigoo…"

The voice, weak but distinct, broke through the haze of memories in Zangetsu's mind. He snapped out of his thoughts, his cold yellow eyes sharpening as they turned to focus on the hollow girl.

She lay slumped against a broken marble wall. At first glance, she appeared fine — no physical wounds visible on her, but anyone with a trained spiritual sense would recognize the truth. Her spirit was fading, her life force dwindling with each passing second.

The strong — the ones with immense spiritual power — towered over the weak. Those with feeble spiritual pressure would always be hunted and eventually succumb to the cruelty of those who existed above them. Spiritual beings of a higher caliber, whether Soul Reapers, Hollows, or other beings, stood at the pinnacle of power their very precense was enough to kill those the world deemed weak. Weakness in the world of spirits was a death sentence.

It had always been this way, and there would never be any change. "Such resilience" he murmured despite being crushed by the overwhelming spiritual pressure Nelliel's soul pushed on trying desperately to push through the grinding of her being. For a moment, he entertained the thought that it might be kinder to end her suffering now, to die slowly like this must be agonizing.

But just as he was about to make that decision, something shifted in his chest, a painful tug at his core.

For a fleeting instant, the face of a young boy overlapped with Nelliel's. His hollow eyes locked onto the boy, his king — the same boy who held his mother's lifeless body in his arms as the relentless rain poured down, soaking him to the bone. The boy's small frame shivered in the storm's cold grasp, but his gaze was fierce, filled with defiance.

A massive, terrifying Hamster like Hollow stood before them, looming like an ominous shadow, blocking the Boy's escape. The boy's pain echoed through Zangetsu's soul, and for a moment, he could almost hear the boy's desperate cry. Protect her.

The word burned deep within Zangetsu's heart, igniting a feeling he hadn't thought about in years.

It triggered the face of a man. One he could never forget. His blood red eyes stared carried the presence of a king and his golden Hair swayed in the sunlight as he smiled with an almost detached sense of amusement. He wore a black denim jacket and black jeans. ""How amusing," He began, his voice dripping with a sneer. " A wretch stands before me, an accident of fate that should never have existed." he said as his eyes glowed for a second.

He took a step closer, his gaze piercing through Ichigo as if he were a mere insect beneath his boot. "But even you, with your pitiful strength, have an aura that is... intriguing.

"You may not understand now, but remember this: The ones who Deify Fate are not those who have the most power. They are the ones who refuse to die. Learn that lesson, child. Otherwise, you will be nothing but another broken puppet.

The choice is yours, Hybrid. Live or die. It makes no difference to me."

Zangetsu's gaze drifted over her, his expression unreadable. He saw the subtle tremors in her body, the way her green hair clung to her bloodied face, and the faint flicker of light in her emerald eyes that seemed to be growing dimmer with each passing moment. The power of her spirit was rapidly dissipating, and with it, her chances of survival.

The harsh winds howled around them, but in this moment, the world seemed still. Zangetsu's thoughts were sharp and focused—he had seen this before. Many times.

Tensa Zangetsu glimmered in his grip, the blade held high, reflecting the pale light that filtered through the Moon above.

"Tell me, girl," he asked in a low, commanding tone, though there was something else in his voice—a thread of quiet understanding, maybe even a reflection of what he had once been. "Do you want to live? Do you wish to defy this fate that is closing in on you?"

Nelliel's breath caught in her throat, her chest heaving as she tried to focus her fading eyes on him. Her body trembled with every intake of breath, her strength already nearly gone. Yet, despite the weakness overtaking her, despite the very real fact that her life force was all but extinguished, something flickered in those green eyes. A spark. A last ember of willpower.

She lifted her head slightly, her voice weak but undeniably clear, and she whispered, "Nell wants to live." With a barely perceptible nod, Zangetsu's grip on Tensa Zangetsu tightened once more, and in one swift motion, he brought the blade down toward her chest. The moment it made contact with her chest, the air itself seemed to crack and hum with power. 

Nelliel's body jerked as a torrent of raw spiritual pressure engulfed both of them. 

(Author notes: Welp let's see where this goes, Find out next time)