Ichigo pushed open the creaky door to the attic, the old wood groaning beneath his weight. The air was thick with dust, the dim light from the single bulb hanging overhead casting long shadows over the forgotten objects strewn about. Boxes, old furniture, and forgotten memories littered the space, each item seemingly holding secrets of the past.
His footsteps stirred up the dust as he moved deeper into the cluttered attic, eyes scanning over everything. His thoughts drifted to his father's words. Why does he always joke around so much? Ichigo couldn't shake the feeling that Isshin knew more than he let on. But there was no time for that now. He needed a sword, and the thought of finding one made his heart race with anticipation.
He spotted a large wooden chest in the far corner, partially hidden under a dusty tarp. The edges were chipped, and the latch looked rusted, but it seemed promising. Ichigo's hands trembled slightly as he walked over to it, pulling back the tarp to reveal the chest.
'Please be what I think it is,' he thought, hoping he wasn't just getting his hopes up.
With a quick jerk, he lifted the latch and opened the chest. The smell of old leather and rust filled the air as the lid creaked open. Inside, wrapped in layers of fabric, were two swords.
The first sword caught his attention immediately. Its hilt was covered in a black cloth, but even through the wrapping, Ichigo could feel the weight of it. He reached down, hands trembling slightly as he pulled it out. As he uncovered the blade, the unmistakable aura of spiritual energy surged through him.
'A Zanpakuto...' His breath caught in his throat. There, resting in his hands, was a blade that felt alive. The sword hummed with power, its presence almost overwhelming.
He couldn't help but run his fingers along the hilt, feeling the subtle pulse of Reiatsu. The Zanpakuto resonated with him, and for a brief moment, he felt like he could hear the faint whisper of its spirit calling to him.
But there was another sword beneath it—one that, at first glance, seemed entirely ordinary. The blade was simple, a traditional katana without the spiritual presence of the Zanpakuto.
He carefully pulled it out, the cold metal glinting faintly in the low light. It was beautifully crafted, but it lacked the overwhelming aura of the first blade.
'A normal sword...' Ichigo thought, his fingers tracing the cold steel. It wasn't what he had been expecting, but the simplicity of it somehow felt comforting in its own way.
He could almost hear his father's voice, teasing him about the more mundane things in life.
Ichigo glanced at both swords, the weight of them in his hands a stark contrast. He felt a strange pull toward the Zanpakuto, the desire to wield its power, but the normal katana was comforting in its simplicity.
For a moment, he just stood there, the two blades resting in his hands as he weighed his options.
Ichigo stood in the dim attic, the two swords resting in his hands. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the Zanpakuto, feeling the spiritual power pulsing through it.
The blade hummed in response, as if beckoning him to draw it, to unlock its true power. But as he stood there, the weight of his decision pressing down on him, he couldn't help but hesitate.
The normal katana, plain and simple, was cool and comforting in his grip. It didn't hum with Reiatsu or call to him like the Zanpakuto, but it was familiar. It was a weapon he could rely on without the weight of expectations.
His fingers lingered on the Zanpakuto for a moment longer, but the feeling that something wasn't right—something about rushing into this—lingered in his gut. The thought of diving into the unknown, of wielding a power he didn't yet understand, made him uneasy. There was no teacher to guide him, no one to help him figure out how to unleash its potential. He wasn't ready.
The katana, however, was something he could work with. No spiritual energy, no complicated techniques to unlock—just a blade in his hand and the simple, raw strength he could forge from it.
'I'm not ready for the Zanpakuto yet. I need to start small, to keep things simple until I understand this all better.' Ichigo's mind was set.
The normal sword felt steady in his grasp, and with a determined breath, he turned away from the Zanpakuto and tucked the katana into his belt.
As he began to close the chest, he glanced at the Zanpakuto one last time. A part of him still longed to wield it, to unleash its full potential. But for now, the katana felt right. It was a weapon he could control—at least, for now.
He closed the chest with a soft thud, the old wood settling once more. With the katana in hand, Ichigo made his way out of the attic, his thoughts focused on the next step of his journey.
' I'll leave at midnight,' Ichigo thought, the words repeating in his mind as he trudged back to his room.
The house was quiet, the soft murmur of distant conversations from downstairs fading as he made his way through the hall. His thoughts were a whirlwind, and his heart beat faster with every step.
He couldn't afford to hesitate now—not after everything he had already committed to. The time was drawing near, and tonight, he would test his limits.
In his room, Ichigo shut the door behind him and flicked on the lamp, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. The katana lay across his bed, gleaming in the quiet darkness.
He stared at it, his fingers brushing against the hilt. His palms were slick with sweat, his mind racing through the plan he had been building.
Tonight... He was about to face something far more dangerous than any training session. He wanted to test himself, push his limits—especially his mind. Could he remain calm, focused, in the face of real danger? Could he suppress the primal instinct to survive and, instead, focus on the task at hand? Can I stay clear-headed and do what I need to do?
More than that, he wanted to test his skill with the sword. Sure, he lacked proper training—he wasn't a master of the blade like some of the Soul Reapers he'd seen. But yesterday's training had shown him something important. Technique wasn't the most important thing right now. Power was.
The first time he'd felt his Reiatsu surge, the raw strength coursing through him, he knew technique could come later. When it came to fighting a Hollow, all that mattered was being able to hit hard enough to make the difference.
' I'll worry about technique when I fight Soul Reapers and others who are worth my time,' he thought. ' For now, it's about power. The strength to defeat the enemy in front of me.'
He took a slow breath, focusing his energy inward. The katana in his hands felt heavier now, like it was waiting for him to do something with it. Ichigo closed his eyes for a moment, then, with a steady exhale, he began to pour Reiatsu into the blade.
His energy swirled, gathered, and condensed into the sword. The moment it touched the steel, a faint hum filled the room, as if the sword was waking up to the power now flowing through it.
Ichigo's grip tightened. He could feel the energy thrumming beneath his skin, the blade vibrating slightly in his hands. He swung the katana experimentally, the motion fluid but tentative.
A sudden gust of wind erupted from the sword, blasting outward with force. The air cracked like thunder as the shockwave slammed into his shelf, sending books and trinkets toppling to the ground in a chaotic tumble.
' Damn. That's a lot of power, 'he thought, his eyes wide in surprise.
The force of it left a cold chill in the air, and for a brief second, he wondered if he was getting in over his head. But the excitement—the rush of power—was undeniable. This was just the beginning.
He adjusted his stance, making sure to brace himself this time. As the wind died down, he smiled, his determination building. Tonight, he would learn what he was truly capable of.
TO BE CONTINUED
[ A/N: PLEASE drop 100 Gazillion stones ]