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It itches sometimes, like a scab.
His back aches and strains like old rubber bands, ready to snap at the softest pressure. It’s been a while since his last flight. Ever since he’d become more involved with the shinigami, it was becoming harder to hide. Especially when half the time, Rukia was in his closest or the shinigami were using his room as a meeting place.
But the moment he was alone-
There’s no definitive word to describe the change. Ichigo’s body expands in a split second as massive wings the color of burnished gold and sunset orange stretches wide. He releases his wings so fast, it knocks a few things off his walls.
Ichigo’s wings tremble as he stretches them to their limit. It feels like a weight off his chest as he opens and closes them gently so as not to generate too much wind. The headache that had been circling around him disappears and he sighs in relief.
He pads downstairs and finds the girls in the kitchen. Both girls glance up to say a greeting, but the moment they catch a sight of his wings, they both brighten.
He doesn’t understand why Yuzu can see his wings but not hollows or shinigami, but he’s glad she can be included in this. Both girls wash their hands and dry them, nearly tripping over their feet to follow Ichigo to the couch.
Karin and Yuzu sit on the couch while he sits on the floor and lets his wings spread across their lap.
Before the shinigami, grooming happened like clockwork. At least twice times a week, Yuzu and Karin would run their fingers through his wings, helping loosen loose feathers and broken shafts. Ichigo would do the same, but neither girl showed any signs of manifesting wings.
If Isshin had any clue about it, he never said. It didn’t bother Ichigo. He never said much about his past anyways. Ichigo made the decision to tell Karin and Yuzu about his current troubles so as to not follow in Isshin’s footsteps.
“It’s been a while,” Yuzu says wistfully, carding gentle fingers through the feathers.
“You’re looking a little bit ragged,” Karin comments, doing the same. Ichigo huffs, a little amused at her blunt speech. She cares, just in her own way.
“I don’t have the privacy to care for them anymore,” he protests. He winces a little when Karin’s hand tugs on a feather. “Everyone’s always looking for me.”
“Well, direct them to me and I’ll tell them to buzz off,” Karin threatened, slapping the space in between the base of his wings. “I can be threatening.”
He yelps at the sudden pressure and turns around quickly to sweep both girls into his arms and cocoon them in a bundle of golden feathers. “You’re about as threatening as Kon.”
“Hey!” As if on cue, Kon flies above the opening of his little winged circle, landing right on top of Yuzu’s head. “I’ll have you know I’m terrifying!”
“About as terrifying as a wet rag,” Ichigo snipes, grabbing Kon by the scruff of his plush neck and tossing him up in the air. He ignores his screaming and sets him on the ground gently as he sweeps his wings back. “Thanks for the quick comb.”
“Next time, call me too,” Kon demands, placing his plush hands on his hips. “I want to help too. I never get to help.”
Ichigo smiles and flicks Kon’s head gently. He didn’t make the best first impression, but he was family now. “Yeah, sure. I’ll do that.”
“Are you going to put them away already?” Yuzu asks, concern lighting her young features. Sometimes he wishes he hadn’t told them, but it was better for them to be in the know.
“Nah.” Ichigo glances out the window. It’s pitch-black outside and no one’s been visiting for the past three days. He smiles in anticipation. “I think I’m gonna go for a quick flight.”
────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*｡ﾟ :. ──────
“I won’t.”
“Are you kidding me?” Isshin’s face twists with disbelief and fury. “Ichigo, the longer you take, the more people will die. Do you want that to happen?!”
“No,” Ichigo says calmly. He won’t let Isshin sway him anymore. He’s had enough; apparently so has Urahara, because he doesn’t protest even though this was initially a part of his plan. “I’ll do it my way.”
There’s an explosion of cloth as wings shred his kosode and shitagi to pieces. Golden wings stretch out from behind him like a vessel of the sun. Control slips and he darts away.
He’s faster in this form, faster than he’s ever been, but it’s still not enough to stop Aizen from killing Gin. He’s colliding with Aizen like rocks crashing into each other and he drags him away from his friends. Swords clash, ringing out in the air like an alarm.
And then Aizen sprouts wings of his own.
They’re as black as obsidian and iridescent. His wings are bigger than his but not as long, meant for power rather than speed. The battle begins anew, like two terrible beings out for blood.
“Why do you resist?” Aizen hisses, eyes bleeding purple. They don’t look human anymore, not when white creeps upon his body and his eyes lose the last of his humanity. “You’re just like me. They’ll use you.”
“I’ll decide that for myself,” Ichigo grunts, blocking a deadly blow to his chest. Even with the extra energy coursing through his veins, he’s not sure if he can survive a blow like that and still fight at full capacity. “I’m different.”
It’s a feeling more than experience that Ichigo pulls from somewhere and an extra set of wings pull from his back, right under his main set. Fresh adrenaline surges through his veins like an energy boost, and the battle begins anew. Aizen screams, an ugly scream that tears the air asunder like a knife.
If the battle was quick before, it’s blinding now. The speed at which they collide is magnificent and terrifying in all ways. At some point, they abandon the ground and take to the skies, wings bared for the rage in between. The battle outside them comes to stand still. How could you fight when two beings like that fought hard enough to cause earthquakes?
Even with adrenaline coursing through his muddied veins and two heavenly sets of wings, it’s a close fight. What determines the outcome is the kido Urahara fired at a split second pause half an hour ago. Whatever it was building up to, was great enough to stake Aizen in the group, spitting and screaming venomous words.
All Ichigo can do is watch as white encases his body, pierced by twelve red spears. He stopped screaming at some point, but there’s no hiding the hatred in his eyes. Behind him, his wings flutter to dust, and then nothing.
Now, there is silence. He knows there’s eyes on him, piercing gazes on his wings. Ichigo stares at the still prison until a pair of geta appear at the corner of his vision.
“Kurosaki-kun.” Urahara tips his hat up slightly, steely eyes glancing at his wings. Ichigo bares them proudly, unafraid. “I wish you had told me earlier.”
“I didn’t know who I could trust,” he says simply. It’s not that he feels spiteful towards any of them, even Isshin, but he doesn’t want to find out that he compromised his life just from baring this secret.
Urahara nods, not at all offended. He understands more than Isshin ever will.
“Kurosaki Ichigo.” It’s expected that Yamamoto calls out to him, but it’s still a little surprising. Either he was quick to find their traitor, or he had been watching them. “How long have you bared the wings of the Tennin?”
The Tennin. It’s not a word that he’s heard often, but it’s not unknown to him. The Tennin, a heavenly person, was a category of divine spiritual beings. Beings that no one had seen for a very long time, even by shinigami standards. Most had forgotten about them.
Whether they were gone or in hiding, there’s no use hiding this secret anymore. All had come to light. Ichigo answers honestly, “For as long as I can remember. I wasn’t aware that’s what it was.”
And it was true. To him, they were simply his limbs. They had flesh and blood, physical feathers that sometimes were found around the house, and moved like he would move his arm. He lifts his head defiantly, but he finds he doesn’t need to be so challenging.
Yamamoto bows his head.
There’s a shocked murmur that sweeps across the decimated clearing, but the older shinigami—Shinji, Kyouraku, Ukitake, Unohana—bow their heads in turn. Urahara, Yoruichi, Komamura, and Kensei follow suit, and then the rest of the shinigami lower their heads in respect. The remaining conscious Arrancar flee at the sight of proud shinigami bowing to the divine half-blood. It’s like watching a wave of action go by.
It should feel empowering. Perhaps this was what Aizen wanted (he knows it’s not quite what he wanted, not with how lonely his zanpakuto felt), but it doesn’t feel good. Ichigo closes his eyes. “I don’t care about formalities—Treat me how you’ve always done. I've never changed.”
He turns to leave. Ichigo feels the need to check on his sisters, his pride and joy, his reason for being a protector in the first place. He spreads all four wings and takes off by flight.
He may be a shinigami too, but he's a winged projector to family first.