❝ SOULAR ECLIPSE!

“Congrats, Ichigo ~ That’s a free meal on me fer pickin’ th’ actual, blunt answer.  See, yer good a’ this.”  With the joke aside, it was a serious answer Ichigo figured out.  Gin knew this answer pretty quick when he first started, and he believed this hellhole of a place would be no different.  An Island paradise was the disguise, and what was hidden behind paradise?  He had no idea other than it wasn’t as pretty and it would not serve as a happy ending for anyone.

“Now don’t get me wrong.  There could be a possibly slip-up t’ where we can escape or catch one o’ them behind this off-guard.  Killin’ em?  Pro’lly be bad fer all o’ us.  They die, then who controls this place?  We find a way t’ escape?  Sure, but how do we actually get back home?  Do we jus’ appear back? or do we get loss ‘n some mess?  Could be similar t’ the Senkaimon or Garganta back home, but what are th’ odds?  We escape, but we get dropped ‘n a different world completely? or maybe jus’ float around ‘n time an’ space.  Frankly, it’s scary t’ think how bad we can mess things up ‘ere.  Almost worthwhile t’ deal wit’ Aizen all over again, wouldn’t ya say?” if that wasn’t a truth.  Staying on the island seemed better than escaping, but that was his opinion.  Having a heavy bias considering he was alive now could be behind that.

“Wha’ do ya enjoy eatin’, anyways?  Got a favorite?”

Don’t get him wrong. Right.

As if anyone could get Ichimaru otherwise. Sure, he’s laid out the facts but hell knows if they’re all truth when Gin was best at poison tinted lies. Still, Kurosaki can’t figure out what the hell was more unnerving in the moment. The fact that Ichimaru seemed to be tellin’ some sort of full truth or that he’s actually leaning towards believing every word the guy says just ‘cause of everything he’s already seen.

Use his heart and not just his eyes to discern everything. If he hadn’t learned to pick up grittier intuition as fast as he can shoulder Zangetsu then his whole world would have fallen apart a long time ago. There ain’t a lick of animosity in Ichimaru’s claims and maybe the supposed snake has succumbed to the truths laying in wait at the end of his own abyss. Why lie ‘bout the assholes who stuck ‘em all there anyway?

Guess they’re at a stalemate until they make it back to their own world. If they ever even do. He sighs in some stubborn half puff of defeat, shoulders lifting towards the nearest joint in town. It’s small, crowded but real simple. Best ramen and tea the whole ward got goin’ on. Not too pricey either.

♞ … … … The medic breathes, and in tandem, Basch allows himself a breath of respite as well. “ I offer my… sincerest gratitude to you. ” His voice falters, however briefly. He casts a glance behind himself to ensure there is a seat to catch him, then steps back and drops his weight into the chair. Bleeding wound stares at the ceiling, and Basch closes his own eyes as his opposite hand moves to apply pressure to the open gash. 

Eyes open only when he feels the hand moved, the sting of inflamed flesh that protests against the intrusion of Ichigo’s touch. The edge of his lip twitches. Brows pinch together. Other than that, however, he voices his discomfort none. You learn to stay your cries of pain quickly– not just for yourself, but for the morale of others. “ The life saved is an honor due to you alone. I… care not to think of what might have happened had the doors been closed fully for the evening. ”

“ I will pay any medicinal fees on her behalf, ” Basch adds, “ And naturally, my own. ”

Gratitude is great but it means shit if this guy dies right after they both put everything on the line to save the lady still on the table. He groans in partial frustration, easing the other further back against the chair for full support. He can be thankful this wounds were nowhere near as severe or he definitely wouldn’t have been able to save them.

Guess they both had somethin’ to be thankful for tonight, huh?

He’s careful gettin’ the wound properly dressed and threaded up for a good close, fingers twitching against the discomfort of sweat lodged between his fingers, trapped beneath medical gloves. Finally moving away, he strips them into the nearest disposal before wrapping Basch’s arm firmly. All set.

He wasn’t expecting to get an answer, though he did jump at the familiar voice didn’t say anything yet in response as he continued staring at his hands for a little bit longer. He wasn’t wrong….Haseo, no Ryou- did need to continue moving forward not just for HIS sake, but for that 1% chance that they would meet again one day. Not just HIM, everyone else back home- after [THE WORLD]’s end.

“Heh, you say it like its easy.” It isn’t, he knows it isn’t. He has too many questions: about his actual body, if Zelkova and Kusabira survived properly, that short time he spent with Ovan after being separated for so long-

“Its hard to hold on to that one singular thing you were left with when being dropped into this place. But-” Ryou looked up, seeing not a blue haired, womanizing Steam Gunner with the same voice but an orange haired guy who didn’t look that much older than he did. “Gotta have ‘Hope’ one way or another, right?” 

He’s right though.

Hell knows it ain’t easy but he ain’t about to give it all up so some sick, twisted bastards who get off imprisoning others for their own shitty amusement get to win. Maybe he studies the guy’s confused look with somethin’ relatable to his own, brows furrowing with a distant thought as he dips stray hands into the none comforting space of his pockets as if twisting his hands so damn hard against the fabric there will somehow give them both all the answers.

     Ukitake couldn’t imagine asking someone to find him and then go wandering off, especially in a place like this. He looks around, only recognizing what ward he was in because he’s near a sign. 

   [ txt ] : Cotes. I seem to be near a park of some sort? 

   [ txt ] : I will sit there and wait for you! 

[ txt ] : right. gotcha. on my way.

Didn’t take him half as long as he thought at least. Made it before the sun started down, shadows cast against park play equipment almost eerily. Couldn’t miss the familiar old man benched in the middle, luckily. It really was him.

   …Oh. 

That wasn’t the response Gonta was expecting, but he supposes it still is an answer to his question. After all, as soon as he hears the stranger say that bad word, he can guess he was wrong to assume this is a gentleman he’s meeting. No gentleman would use language like that!

“Oh,” he says out loud, looking like he’s been let down. “Well… You’re saying you didn’t fight anyone, right?”

Leave it to him to bounce back up and find a way to make this positive. “So maybe it does count! If you’re refraining from using your weapon for no good reason, then that’s good of you.”

Yeah - ‘oh.’

He can only shrug in response, brows furrowing all the while. Did he really expect some shit different? Everyone back home did. Not surprised to find people here ain’t really that different. Everyone’s disappointed one way or another but the approach was just damn weird.

Huh? Why was this guy suddenly going on about his mom? Confusion is easily read on Naruto’s face, unable to tie that very obvious staring to the comment at hand. He frowns and wonders about it for a bit.

What was left of his mom, huh…so that meant she was dead. Whatever world he came from…Naruto supposes that familial death can’t be avoided no matter where you went. There really wasn’t a perfect place anywhere, and he can’t imagine no one had tried building one befoe. He’d really have his work cut out for him as Hokage, wouldn’t he?

Naruto digs out his phone, hastily flipping through images until he finds The One. His chest immediately floods with bittersweet pride, a stinging softness, even though it’s an image he’d stared at for hours before. He shoves it into Ichigo’s view.

“This is my mom and dad. I didn’t get her nice hair, but…I like to think I got her handsome face.” Naruto chuckles sheepishly before he cradles the phone to himself again. “That’s all I have of her too.” Besides the picture of course, but there were 2039842908 of them on his phone. That was a story for another time.    

“..I think you mean your dad’s handsome face. Your old man looks better than mine at least.”

Can’t help but squint at the image shoved right in his view as if he had a damn choice. It’s her smile that gets him, brimming with familial warmth that would wrap their child in an everlasting halo and fill them with a kind of love that would protect them from everything. He felt that once when his mother’s smile was the center of his world and all he wanted to do was protect her in turn.

♞ … … …  He tries not to imagine it– the light fading from her eyes. It takes willpower to ignore the burdensome visions that intrude his mind. Focus on the task, he tells himself between each wound pressed down. And focus he does, to the utmost of his ability. One, two, three– they move to the fourth, and he feels a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck.

And when that is done, he still doesn’t feel at ease. Eyes flick to her face. Pallid, pained, colourless. Crimson continues to streak down his forearm, and were his thoughts not so preoccupied with the woman, perhaps he might have noticed the lightheadedness beginning to prick at his skull. Maybe he is lucky in that sense. Basch looks to Ichigo once more. “ Our next move? ”

It isn’t time to rest until the medic deems it so. The urgency in his gaze holds steadfast.

Only once he’s done fumbling with a sense of undying urgency between the unseen lines does he dare take a step back to just breathe. That’s it. They got the last one. Despite her overall condition looking dangerously grim they actually did it and all that’s left is to let the direly injured rest in high hopes of making an eventual full recovery. Could take anywhere from a couple days to a week but his innate sense of concern immediately transfers once he knows her life is almost guaranteed secure in favor of the telltale signs still trickling from the guy’s arm.

Jeez, has he been bleedin’ the whole time?

Used tools are carefully discarded so as to not wake the woman still on the table before he dips around to begin cleaning the site of Basch’s wound.

“Lucky you, old timer. Looks like you’ll definitely live to get knifed another day. Thanks for the help back there. We did a damn good thing today.”