Kidō Revision

A/N: I don't quite know what inspired this idea.

I write as my eyes let me, so yes, there's other chapters for other things still on the way, slowly but surely.

Chapter 1 - Gambit

It was pouring rain, just like it had done so long ago. A cascade of liquid ran down Ichigo's nose as he remained stubbornly frozen to the saturated grass beneath him. Slowly cooling, his mother's corpse left him paralysed under her weight. A Hollow laugh echoed amidst the downpour and his mother's crumpled, lifeless features stared emptily ahead in the rain. Devoid of powers. Devoid of soul. The Grand Fisher never should've had the opportunity in the first place, yet he did because of one person. It gave Ichigo some vindictive pleasure that Yhwach's attempt to claim her soul in its totality had been foiled by a Hollow's hunger.

A giggle.

A scream of primal fury and darkness. Ichigo slumped limply to the ground, unaware of the hands grasping at him.

"Ya know King, I somehow don't think that we're meant to be here." Trembling, Ichigo turned to face his unusually sombre body double. "At least this far back, you know when…" Zangetsu trailed off, his wielder looking blankly ahead as the heavens above began to torrent down. Horizontal skyscrapers gleamed dimly in the mist as two figures, one a great deal shorter than the other, remained motionless.

They remained that way for a little while longer. "This isn't a sick dream, is it?" Ichigo asked tiredly. He rubbed his forehand with the palm of a hand.

"Hell if I know, but it feels real enough. Back to the olden days, oh boy, what joy." Zangetsu casually scratched at some phantom itch with the halt of himself. "Didn't even know it was possible, but there you go."

"Do you think Aizen's still watching us?" Ichigo asked tonelessly. Even that thought left him drained.

"Probably, as if that bastard would miss out on this sort of prime time viewing. We know Grand Fisher was one of his in the first place from its cloaking." His Hollow frowned. "That's gonna be a problem actually."

"You mean when he realises that we're way ahead of the curve for no apparent reason?"

"That and when the first thing we do when we arrive in Soul Society is tear Fox-Face's arm off and beat him to death with it." Zangetsu grinned ferociously.

Ichigo winced. "You're taking this a lot better than I am. I…" He trailed off. Somewhere off in the distance a slice of building shattered and tumbled into the abyss below.

"Oh, cheer up! Think of all the people we can maim! Yhwach, Aizen, Ichimaru, Tōsen, that spineless worm Kuchiki for a second time. So many asses to kick, so little time. And we can even kick the crap out of your Quincy powers for a second time too!" With relish, Zangetsu's blade was flung sideways at the unobtrusive middle-aged man who was perched a short distance away. Zangetsu's Quincy counterpart swayed serenely and jumped elegantly to another landing.

"Like that'll fix anything," Ichigo snorted and shook his head. "We can't just run around stabbing everything. All that'll do is piss people off. No one apart Aizen even knows who I am yet. It's not like there's any trust to shield me from some maniac like Kurotsuchi."

"You are wise to have realised this Ichigo. For now Aizen is not the main threat. He will wait and watch from a distance as he did before. Even now though, Kurotsuchi is active, harvesting the souls of Quincy for his research." Yhwach's younger form flicked into view, long-fingered hands tucked neatly into pockets.

Ichigo looked upwards at them, before blinking and looking down at himself. "And what do you want me to do about it? I'm nine." Ichigo gestured with a tiny hand. "Am I even big enough to hold either of you yet?"

"Nope!" Zangetsu leered, cackling maniacally. "You'd probably slice one of your feet off if you tried."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Oh come on King, you could always just wing it with Kidō. If you bothered to learn it." Another fit of laughter.

Sharp retort on his tongue, Ichigo paused for his Quincy powers had turned to observe his Shinigami powers with a contemplative look. "That is not an altogether poor idea," the Quincy said quietly. "Kidō usage is not dissimilar to your own capacity for reishi manipulation. Shaping it operates on the same principles."

"You've got to be joking. None of us know the first thing about Kidō." Ichigo and his Hollow exchanged looks as they spoke at the same time.

"Look forward, Ichigo! You have another chance to prevent tragedies and curtail the actions of the actors on this stage. Not only Aizen, but Kurotsuchi, Urahara, the Central 46 and others who have committed grave injustices." Being yelled at by his Quincy powers was somewhat nostalgic. Another towering skyscraper teetering on the edge of oblivion held its place as Ichigo considered the path before him.

Ichigo ducked as a blade of white sailed over head.

"Oi. Where the hell did you even get that from? I thought we reforged it."

"What?" The Hollow asked all too innocently. "You were zoning out. This one I can throw without Bankai too," it replied with an all too evil smile.

"You just want me to say yes!" Ichigo shouted back, dodging another flail.

"We're you, you idiot, of course we want you to say yes! The entire point of being here is to motivate you to say yes."

"I don't know what I'm doing with Kidō!" Ichigo yelled, ducking again.

"We never know what we're doing with anything. What's new?" His spirit screamed back.

A blast of white energy knocked them apart, Yhwach's form marching in and hoisting them both by the scruff of their necks.

"Enough stalling. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I agree that we need to do something different" Ichigo ground out from clenched teeth, legs kicking uselessly in the air, "but how the hell am I meant to learn anything when I've got no teacher?"

"Simple, you teach yourself," the Hollow said with a huff.

Ichigo stared blankly. "How?"

"How did you end up an Honours student at school?" The Hollow asked, with an air of someone watching a tooth extraction.

"I studied my ass off." Ichigo frowned. "That only works though when I actually have material to study. Where are we going to find anything here on Kidō?"

"Urahara's shop," the Quincy suggested.

"Your old man might have some crap lying around," the Hollow offered.

"Uryuu's grandfather is still alive. He can no doubt offer an outside perspective of the Quincy variant."

"Bust into the Sereitei and steal some books. Never know, Aizen might volunteer some if you ask nicely."

Ichigo tilted his head and shook himself out of the grip of his Quincy powers' grip. "Not bad, but there's one little problem with all of those ideas. I'm not meant to know about any of these people."

"We could always have an accident with a Hollow. You know, a real proper looking one," Zangetsu spoke, still hanging in mid-air, grinning with far too many teeth.

"That's gonna be hard with Aizen not letting anything in. I always thought it was Urahara keeping the place clear, but he never left his shop until Aizen kicked that Gillian through ." Ichigo tapped his foot impatiently.

"Don't see why that's so surprising. First thing Aizen wanted to do with his Hollow powers was take a bite out of you," Zangetsu folded his arms, a glint in his yellow eyes.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo demanded, his Hollow continuing to giggle.

"You worked it out once Ichigo, you'll manage it a second time. It's something to think about," his inverted clone finished in a more subdued tone. "As for finding a Hollow, if we can find someone distressed enough we can just wait for them to turn into one. If Aizen was screwing with the patrols coming out to Karakura Town then we can probably bet that just about no one was sending on spirits to the Rukongai. That's a lot of misery." Another shrug.

Ichigo grimaced. "I can't use Konsō without revealing you guys either." His Hollow's earlier words of Aizen's watchful gaze being problematic came rushing back. Anything Ichigo did would be dissected by the man, examined, rolled around and contemplated until all information had been sapped from it then dumped into some deep archive of stalker knowledge Aizen probably kept bound in a book on his desk. Ichigo wouldn't be surprised if there was seventy-four volumes of it, with numerous accompanying novels. "Aizen's gonna know about anything weird we do."

"Then perhaps," Zangetsu's Quincy half began in a mild tone of voice, "we should engage upon "weird" activities where we are less experienced."

The lights flashed on upstairs and suddenly the solution appeared as if it had always been present. "You want me to mislead him."

"Bingo, Your Majesty, you're catching on. We mislead the hell out of him, Urahara and every other bastard watching." Hollow and Quincy both nodded firmly.

"We out-Aizen Aizen," Ichigo confirmed numbly. Both spirits once again nodded firmly.

"Ichigo, Aizen's greatest deception was not in his behaviour, but his willingness not to correct others in their perceptions of his behaviour," the Quincy offered. "All you need do is allow people to come to natural conclusions."

Ichigo sat heavily on the glass below, crossing his legs and considered what he knew of Hueco Mundo's overlord. Aizen had manipulated his way through the ranks of the Gotei 13 with Kyōka Suigetsu in hand. Absences could be excused with illusions. Implicit growth in skill could be hidden with explicit ignorance. Controversial views concealed by empty topics and empty words or by saying nothing at all. Aizen's methodology turned molehills into mountains, swamps into gardens and dragonflies into dragons, yet all that remained of Aizen as a person was a shallow façade not even Gin had seen through after a century. His least memorable traits were emphasised and his greatest ones diminished. Aizen the illusion was hollow. Aizen the person was unknown because no one ever found enough contradictions to suggest otherwise. Ichigo honestly wondered what would happen if someone engaged Aizen in a normal conversation over a prolonged period of time. They'd probably be impaled ten minutes in, but Ichigo supposed that there could be outliers.

"You guys do realise that this guy's been feeding people bullshit for over a hundred years, right? Probably even two-hundred." Ichigo asked tiredly.

"And? We still kicked his ass and we only had a year of practice," Zangetsu said, examining his dark nails.

"Yeah, in his weakest area."

"Even in his weakest area he still dominated you in your strongest area, once upon a time," the Quincy whispered.

Ichigo sighed. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever done, but fine. I have an idea…"

A plain of consciousness away, Isshin Kurosaki was furiously punching numbers into a phone.

"Ryūken! I've been trying to call you. It's urgent." Isshin yelled into the receiver.

"I'm busy Kurosaki, I don't have time for-" Ryūken responded impatiently.

"He's not waking up!" Isshin screeched, voice cracking.

"What?" Ryūken's voice trembled.

"Ichigo's not waking up. I brought him home and he's not waking up."

"Stay there, I'm coming." A click and Isshin was left listening to an empty line.

A dimension away, the Captain of the 5th Division observed a wrapped bundle topped with orange hair being passed into the arms of an irate Quincy. A tiny arm hung limply from between layers, pale and unmoving. Red bands had been tied around the boy's wrist, they rushed down sterile hallway of the hospital.

"You idiot, why didn't you call me sooner?" The Quincy demanded, lifting the boy's eyelids midstride, for yet another time.

"There wasn't any reason to call you sooner!" Was screamed back by the father.

"Your wife is dead, mine is in a coma and you seriously think that your son being unresponsive is normal?" Snarling, Ryūken flung open a room with a single made bed and deposited the human parcel onto it. "Quincies do not survive their powers being reclaimed."

"Your son did."

"My son is not currently unresponsive and on the verge of death."

Ichigo was still unresponsive. Not so much as an eyelid twitched as abuse was volleyed between the men.

Neither Gin or Kaname had access to this room filled with monitors and likely neither would for a period of time longer. Aizen's fingers danced across his keyboard, cycling through his cameras. Pausing, he zoomed in on the slackened features of the nine-year-old's face which were drawn together in a scowl in his unconsciousness. Not a hint of movement indicative of REM sleep.

Aizen remained observing as he had since the disquieting moment Masaki Kurosaki had fallen to the Grand Fisher. Her powers abruptly vanishing as she made a last-ditch attempt to shield her son from the Hollow in the only way she could. She, who had swatted a Hollow capable of felling Captains, perished to a Hollow of no notable ability. For fifty odd years the Grand Fisher had roamed as one of Aizen's more elusive creations, defying Shinigami and Quincy alike with its reiatsu cloaking capabilities. Its presence at the river had not been intended or noticed until far too late. Aizen's fingers briefly flexed and extended outwards.

Unease had hounded the Shinigami since the boy been discovered under the corpse of his mother. Masaki Kurosaki's body had been taken with a string of well-practiced excuses delivered to the human authorities and Ichigo Kurosaki, still covered in his mother's blood, had been hastily removed from sight. Like a sack of potatoes, he had been slung over his father's shoulder and taken back to the clinic

Bathed and dressed, nothing had the effect of waking the boy from slumber. Frantic attempts to rouse him only ended in failure, each attempt more despondent than the last. Isshin's twins had been sent elsewhere once realisation had set in for the lacklustre father. From Aizen's views elsewhere, all of the mixed Quincy had been felled in a single blow by the light which had descended upon them. Some had died instantly and others were as catatonic as the child before him. Ichigo's struggling breaths indicated that he was to be counted amongst them and slowly fade away.

Hours passed and no progress was made on either Ichigo Kurosaki or the Quincy's wife.

Unwrapped from the coverings, Ichigo was carefully handled into a hospital gown by a shaking Ryūken. X-ray after x-ray was taken. Soon after, a drip was placed in his arm as the Quincy sunk metaphorical heels into the ground as he was dragged towards inevitability. Ishida's volatility grew with his frustration as attempt after attempt at treatment failed.

A week crept by and Aizen remained watching. Gin questioned his absence once. It had not happened a second time, with Gin carefully avoiding such topics.

Ichigo Kurosaki was thinner now, skin and bone compared to his once well-fed self. Kanae Ishida was in much the same condition in the next room over. Together the two of them wasted away, remaining tethered to life only through human technology. Gin's queries became less frequent while Aizen's only grew as he watched and waited as he had for the nine years beforehand. This time he was not in possession of the answers he so desperately sought, locked away as they were in the archives of the Central 46, which even his hypnosis could only assist so much to avoid detection. Kurotsuchi's records were devoid of any information on such phenomena as well.

Unsurprisingly, Isshin Kurosaki was nowhere to be seen as his eldest remained in limbo. The only constant was the Quincy doctor who worked without sleep and the Shinigami who watched from so far away.

The Quincy's son, Uryū, had been allowed to visit both comatose patients even as the father worked, breaking loose of his grandfather's grip.

"Dad, who is he?" Was asked by the child.

"Our cousin."

No more was said and the child split his time between the two rooms. Dark haired and of a similar age to Ichigo Kurosaki, he kept vigil over both. Uryū spoke into the air, of his day, of his grandfather, of sewing with his mother and of anything that came to mind. Neither replied, but he persisted in spite of their dwindling conditions. It would be Ichigo's sole comfort in the cold and empty room provided if some inkling of awareness remained within the child.

Another two months of the same passed. Gin's asking expression became more and more apparent as desperation to know Aizen's whereabouts set in. Kaname had done the opposite and stepped back, ever careful not to overstep his boundaries.

The moment Aizen had been expecting had finally come. A haggard Ryūken Ishida lifted the receiver of his phone.

"Kurosaki, come over here as soon as possible. We have urgent matters to discuss." Click.

It was a speech Aizen had been expecting from the moment of admission. It still grated to hear it spoken from one who knew the true severity of the affliction.

"I can't do any more, Kurosaki," the Quincy said, taking a long draw on his cigarette in the spacious and green courtyard of the hospital. They sat perched upon a bench in the centre of paved space. Other patients, blissfully ignorant of the conversation taking place, passed them. "Nothing's working. They're already starting to develop muscle atrophy even while being stimulated. That's not even mentioning the amount of blood thinners they're on."

"Then why am I here?" Isshin asked.

"Now's not the time to play the idiot, Kurosaki. It's to make the decision that all families of terminally ill patients must one day make. Whether or not we have them suffer through the affliction or we let them go peacefully." An exhale of smoke. "We probably should have let them go in the first week. It would have been kinder."

"It's too soon," Isshin murmured.

"It's always too soon, Kurosaki. Despite what I tell my patients, it never gets any better. They pass away and more often than not leave their spirit behind, chained down with regrets, to be collected by some useless Shinigami."

"Do we have any way to send them on? I could find someone..." Isshin asked.

"There's nothing left to send on Isshin. Everything not already taken will be reclaimed by the Quincy King. Quincy and victims of Quincy don't leave anything behind. I'm sorry." Ishida walked away, wiping a sleeve along the bottom rim of his glasses. Isshin Kurosaki sat there, unmoving and staring blankly ahead.

Nine years would be washed away in an instant once Isshin made the decision he was entitled to do so under the laws of the living. And make the decision he would, for there was no prospect of improvement for either patient. The other Quincy affected had been left to perish by their families, who did so with the knowledge that there would be no prospects of a cure. Ichigo would share the same fate.

A week more passed and Isshin was still undecided. He deflected every phone call, ignored every enquiry. At times he would vanish into Urahara's domain, only to emerge more distressed than before.

Then the unexpected happened. Aizen bolted to attention and a twitch of eyelids became apparent. Ichigo Kurosaki moved. Aizen released a breath he'd hardly been aware of holding. A breath that had perhaps lasted close to three months.

Another spasm and the orange haired child opened his eyes. Staring blankly, he dragged himself into a sitting position. A skeletal hand reached out and caught the stand of his IV drip and with effort the boy swung his through the sheets and over the edge of the bed. With more effort still, he stood and inched towards the door, one tiny step at a time. Dragging his feet, Ichigo crossed the threshold and stepped into the hallway. It was one of the most remarkable scenes Aizen had witnessed in his recent memory.

Another pained series of steps and Ichigo, still staring blankly, stood before Kanae Ishida.

Sitting in a chair nearby, Uryū Ishida jumped to his feet with a start, jaw hanging open. "You're awake!" He rushed over to the orange haired boy and latched onto one thin arm.

There was no reply as Ichigo hobbled closer to the catatonic woman.

Gently tugging on the sleeve of the gown, the child Quincy began to insist, "please, sit down, you're going to fall. Please. Can you even hear me? Please sit." Still frantically tugging, the dark haired boy insisted, but there was no response.

Ichigo Kurosaki paid him no mind and extended out his right hand towards the centre of Kanae's Ishida's sternum. A split second of contact and Aizen's surveillance only captured a blue surging flare. It flickered and went out, fried by the surge. A reserve camera was sent in.

"Dad!" Uryū yelled.

Ryūken Ishida arrived almost instantaneously in a flicker of light to find his son crying, crouched on the floor and hovering over an unconscious Ichigo Kurosaki. Ichigo was face down and unmoving. Kurosaki's hand which had touched Kanae Ishida was clenched shut. Perhaps most surprisingly for the Quincy was that his wife, fully alert and sitting upright in her bed of two months, was crying too as she called his name.

"Ryūken, please, help him up!" She called as best as she was able, even as both father and son stared agape at the conscious woman before them. With an urgency hardly seen in the Sereitei, Ryūken spirited Ichigo back into his bed and once more began observations. Once Ichigo was safely positioned, the man returned to the room of his wife at the same speed.

The impromptu funeral arrangements came to a grinding halt and Isshin was called back to the hospital.

"What happened?" Isshin asked, utterly dumfounded.

"Your son woke up, walked to my wife's room and placed his hand on her heart. He was unresponsive to Uryū's attempts to have him sit down. There was a surge of blue reiatsu and your son collapsed. My wife was awake and crying when I arrived," Ryūken responded numbly.

"So you didn't see that coming?" Isshin asked hesitantly.

"Kurosaki, what your son just did will no doubt make Quincy folklore with him being a purveyor of miracles. What he did shouldn't have been possible. In any manner. Anywhere. At all. Ever."

"Just how impossible are we talking here?"

Ryūken ran a finely fingered hand down his face. "He gave her back her Quincy powers. Only one person should be capable of such a feat and he is the one who left them in such a state in the first place. Potentially he could help others in Kanae's position, but only if he survives helping her in the first place." Ryūken shook his head, gazing distantly at Isshin. "More concerning though is the implication of what he can do if he has such abilities."

Isshin only frowned. A dimension away Aizen did the same, a steaming cup of tea sitting untouched as the hysteria played out before him. A strange tension hovered about him, something which hadn't been the case for almost a decade.

Ichigo Kurosaki's sleep, contrasting to his previous state of being, could only be called restless. He rolled over, clenching at a thick blanket. Every few minutes he would thrash and alter his position. Curiously, the other hand remained clenched and out of sight, tucked deep within the covers.

It wasn't long before Isshin strode in with Ryūken, embroiled in a screaming match.

"I told you I didn't know how long it'd take him to recover!"

"Well, I told you to tell me if anything changed!"

Almost nose to nose, the Quincy and Shinigami glared each other down.

"Can you two-," a pause, "-just stop?" A quiet and hoarse voice asked. "All I hear is you two yelling at each other and something about a funeral." Aizen smirked, while the two adults turned red.

"Ichiiiiigoooooo," Isshin exclaimed pathetically, "that's no way to speak to your dad."

"I thought he was my dad," Ichigo said in a thoroughly disinterested tone of voice, pointing at Ryūken. Aizen snorted loudly, cup of tea balanced precariously in a shaking hand. Isshin took his cue to burst into loud, uncontrollable sobs and flee from the room.

"My son doesn't love meeeeeeeeeeeeeee." Echoed from some distance down the hallway. Two people present and one person in the Sereitei rolled their eyes in response

Ryuken and Ichigo watched him go in silence.

"Has he," Ichigo struggled, "been like that the whole time? He seems pretty happy to escape."

"I would have banned him from the hospital permanently if he behaved like that in a consistent manner. It's absolutely appalling behaviour."

"Including treatment?"

"Especially for treatment," the Quincy scowled. "Speaking of treatment, how do you feel?"

"Tired. Sore. Aches. Everywhere hurts." Ichigo said quietly.

Ichigo Kurosaki was without doubt in some kind of pain, shifting uncomfortably as if no single place gave him any relief. Prior restlessness explained by the wasting of his muscles even as young as he was from being in such a position. Ichigo's attempt to shift into a sitting position was cut short by a hiss as he reached an arm behind him to hold a shoulder.

"Unfortunately that'll likely be the atrophy. I'll order some pain relief for you. In all honesty, Ichigo-kun, we weren't expecting you to wake up… so soon after what happened." Ichigo looked at Ryūken with a mildly perturbed expression.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"Just nearing three months. My son has been keeping you company."

"I," Ichigo frowned with concentration, "missed graduation? I don't remember anything about school at all... What year am I even in?"

"Don't stress over it," the Quincy said gently. "What's important is that we make sure you've recovered before we worry about anything else."

"Okay."

"I'll get your painkillers and be right back."

The door closed with a snap and Ichigo remained sitting up in his bed, looking alertly around the room.

For a split second, a dimension away, Aizen's eyes met Ichigo's through lenses as Ichigo stared for a moment at the drone. Dull brown eyes blinked lethargically, half lidded. Baby fat had melted away to show cheekbones that shouldn't have been visible at such an age. So small and battered, he wouldn't have been out of place in the Rukongai as yet another starving soul. Only a moment, and the child blinked and looked away.

Aizen closed his eyes. An idea was within contemplation. Perhaps a moment of observation beyond instruments would allow the clarification he required. Gin and Kaname would not be required for his brief excursion.

Through the flickering of the screen he saw the Quincy return with a kidney dish and numerous needles. As politely as possible while in agony, the boy declined the offer of a hand to hold. Ichigo's expression never changed throughout the injections into both himself and the drip.

Ryūken gently squeezed Ichigo's fingers instead. "Would you like a proper shower once the medication starts working?" He asked kindly.

Ichigo nodded in the affirmative and the Quincy left the room.

It was here Aizen stood and swept from the room, a black cloak in hand from a shelf nearby. With a single step he re-appeared at the 5th Division barracks. Gin Ichimaru, smiling broadly as ever, sat waiting for him.

"Ah, Aizen-taichō, been busy?" Gin asked brightly.

"Somewhat," Aizen indifferently replied. Gin would remain ignorant until his presence was required. "It has been somewhat persistent, Gin, admittedly, but hopefully it is a matter that will resolve shortly. Our usual arrangements should be adequate."

Aizen donned the cloak, drew Kyōka Suigetsu and vanished.