STOP ME WHEN YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH

Ha, You're Funny

"I'm sorry, he what now?" Ichigo gapes dramatically. "Then why was Zangetsu the one talking shit all this time? I've never even seen the vasto lorde."

"I'm still a Hollow, ya know?" Zangetsu grumbles.

"Hollows are entities full of souls, Ichigo, and one of those souls is in control of the body. You are the soul in control of the body, but one of the other souls is strong and detached enough to attempt all functional control," Yhwach explains.

"And that one soul is the vasto lorde because Zangetsu is literally apart of me, and the adjuchas is apart of Zangetsu," the ginger nods in understanding. "How do I get him to understand that I want all of us to work together to make us the most powerful being in the realms?"

"Fight him. Duh," the bleached spirit grins.

"Ah yes, the simplicity of Hollows never ceases to amaze me."

The Hollow mocks a gasp, hand over his... heart? Does he have one? "You wound me."

"Now the cycle is complete."

The older spirit shakes his head at them. "You must fight the vasto lorde before we can do anything else."

"Is he the reason that I get attacks?" Ichigo inquires, remembering back on what Ryuuken said. Hollow instinct makes him pace, apparently. While it's a good theory, Ichigo himself thinks it's more complicated than that. What if the vasto lorde is trying to take over? What if the vasto lorde controls specific parts of his body when he's under emotional distress.?

"Quite possibly."

"I know it's not me," Zangetsu claims.

"Let us assume it is the vasto lorde, in that case."

"Alright." Ichigo gets to his feet. "Where is he?"

"Hang on, partner. You need to know one more thing before you go." Zangetsu gets up as well. "While you're fighting him, your body will change forms. Because your consciousness will not be present, your basic instinct will take the wheel."

"You're saying I'll be running wild."

"Yeah."

"This may be the time to meet up with the Vizard, Ichigo," Yhwach recommends.

Ichigo wants to disagree yet doesn't. He exits his mindscape with the plan lingering in the back of his head. The sun peeks out from the tree tops, leaking gentle warmth into the barren field. The long grass is wet with morning dew and waves good morning in the slight breeze. Clouds move sluggishly through the sky, revealing the pinks, oranges, and yellows of the sunrise.

He'd give anything to watch more of the gorgeous scene, but decides it's time to get going. He's been gone long enough. Oh god. Rukia is going to kill him. With the threatening image in mind, he jumps to his sore legs, and rush walks in the direction he's pretty sure he came from.

The last time he was out of the Seireitei was his first trip here. It's been a while. The villages he passes through are falling apart, and the people aren't doing much better. They watch him in surprise and caution, gaping at his different attire of jeans and a t-shirt. Yeah, he doesn't really do robes. They kinda suck. The shihakusho is the only comfortable outfit they have in this entire goddamn realm.

Fighters size him up. Every village is like this, the groups always consisting of at least five armed men. There's a group per four blocks, too. God, how far in the districts is he? These guys look ready to eat him alive, and he's got no idea how close help is. Shit, he's just going to have to avert back to his street fighting days if it doesn't calm down soon.

His mind opens up in calculation, studying man after man. He estimates their height and weight, and takes in their faces and distinguishing features. Plans lay themselves out in his head as he decides the demise of every single fighter that even dares to stand on the same side of the street as him.