Darkness did not feel like sleep.
It felt like falling without motion, like being suspended in a place where time had no meaning. Ichigo drifted through it, not unconscious, not awake, aware only of the weight in his chest and the echo of his own despair.
Then the world formed around him.
His inner world had always been vast, but it had never been like this.
The city was gone.
The endless skyline of steel and shadow, the towering buildings and fractured streets that once reflected his conflict and resolve, had been erased completely. There was no horizon of concrete anymore. No wind howling between structures. No sense of height or direction.
Only an ocean.
It stretched endlessly in every direction, black and steel gray beneath a sky choked with storm clouds. The water was unnaturally still despite the rain that poured relentlessly from above, droplets striking the surface and vanishing without ripples, as if even the sea was too empty to react.
Rain soaked Ichigo instantly.
It plastered his hair to his face, soaked into his clothes, slid down his skin like cold fingers. The sky rumbled with distant thunder, low and mournful, as if the world itself were grieving.
"This…" Ichigo whispered hoarsely.
His voice echoed far longer than it should have, reverberating across the open emptiness before fading into nothing.
His chest tightened.
This place wasn't just empty.
It was destroyed.
Every step he took felt heavy, not physically, but emotionally, like he was walking through the aftermath of something catastrophic. Something that hadn't simply ended, but had been torn out violently, leaving nothing behind to grow back.
Then he heard it.
Crying.
Raw, broken sobbing, carried across the endless ocean and amplified by the emptiness. The sound echoed unnaturally, folding in on itself, overlapping until it felt like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Ichigo froze.
His breath caught painfully in his throat.
He turned toward the sound.
A small figure knelt at the edge of the water.
A child.
Its back was to him, shoulders shaking violently as it cried, small hands clutching at its own chest like it was trying to hold itself together. A cloak lay around it, torn and shredded, fabric hanging in ragged strips, soaked through with rain and clinging uselessly to its thin frame.
The child looked so small against the vast ocean.
So impossibly alone.
"Make it stop," A high pitched voice echoed.
Each sob echoed through the inner world like a wound being reopened, the sound reverberating endlessly, refusing to fade.
Ichigo's heart ached.
"Hey," he called out, voice cracking despite himself. "Hey… are you—"
The crying stopped.
Instantly.
The sudden silence was worse than the sobs.
The child went completely still.
Ichigo's breath hitched. Panic flared, sharp and immediate, and he broke into a run, boots splashing against the shallow water as he rushed forward.
"Wait!" he shouted. "I'm not— I won't—"
He reached out.
His fingers passed through empty air.
The child vanished.
No light. No smoke. No dramatic disappearance. One moment it was there, the next it was simply gone, like it had never existed at all.
Ichigo stumbled forward, nearly falling to his knees.
"What…?" he breathed.
Rain continued to fall. The ocean remained endless and silent.
Then he heard a voice.
"Pathetic."
Ichigo froze.
It was his voice.
Distorted. Warped. Flattened of warmth, stretched thin until it sounded hollow and wrong. And yet unmistakably his own.
Slowly, he turned.
White stood behind him.
The Hollow.
Blank mask. No expression. No fangs bared, no wild grin stretching impossibly wide like it once had. It simply stood there, rain sliding down the smooth surface of its face, head tilted slightly as if observing something disappointing.
Ichigo felt his heart stutter.
And then, inexplicably—
He smiled.
Not a big smile. Not a happy one. Just a small, instinctive curve of his lips, like seeing someone familiar after too long apart.
The Hollow's head tilted further.
"He looked pathetic, didn't he?," it said calmly.
It raised a hand and gestured toward the place where the child had been.
Ichigo's jaw tightened. "That was—"
He stopped himself.
Something warm flickered in his chest, a spark of hope he hadn't felt in what felt like forever. He turned eagerly toward the Hollow, words tumbling out before he could stop them.
"Where's old man Zang—"
"Finish that sentence," the Hollow interrupted softly, "and I'll let you die."
The words weren't threatening.
They were factual.
Ichigo stopped cold.
His expression twisted into confusion, brows furrowing as he stared at the Hollow. "What…?"
The Hollow didn't grin.
That was what unsettled him the most.
There was no mockery here. No sadistic delight. Its posture was relaxed, almost tired. Rain slid down its mask like tears it couldn't shed.
The Hollow turned away.
It began to walk across the surface of the ocean, steps unhurried, leaving no ripples behind.
"If you still haven't figured it out," it said over its shoulder, voice flat and heavy with something that sounded dangerously close to disappointment, "then you don't deserve me."
Ichigo stood there, rain pouring down around him, the words sinking deep into his chest like anchors.
"Wait," he said weakly. "What are you talking about?"
The Hollow didn't stop.
Didn't turn back.
The distance between them stretched impossibly fast, the white figure growing smaller with each step until it was nothing more than a shape against the endless storm.
Ichigo clenched his fists.
The ocean roared silently beneath him.
"Wait!"
Ichigo's voice tore through the rain, raw and desperate. It echoed across the endless ocean, bouncing back at him distorted and hollow, like the world itself was mocking his panic.
"Don't go!" he shouted, stumbling forward through the shallow water. His boots splashed uselessly as he chased after the retreating white figure. "Don't just walk away—please!"
The Hollow did not slow.
Rain streamed down Ichigo's face, mixing with something warmer he refused to acknowledge. His chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, every step heavier than the last.
"I— I need you," he said, the words dragging themselves out of him, ugly and exposed. "I can't do this alone anymore. I tried. I really did. I tried to be strong without you. I tried to move on."
His voice cracked.
"I'm dying out there."
The Hollow scoffed.
It was quiet. Almost dismissive. A breath of sound carried away by the storm.
"Maybe," it muttered without turning around, "it would be better if you did."
The words hit harder than any blade.
Ichigo stopped short, staring at the Hollow's back in disbelief. For a moment, the rain seemed louder, the ocean darker, the emptiness more suffocating.
"…What?" he whispered.
Anger flared, sudden and sharp, cutting through the despair like a spark catching dry tinder.
"No," Ichigo growled. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. "No. You don't get to say that."
He took a step forward, then another, rage pushing him onward even as exhaustion screamed at him to stop.
"Turn around," he shouted. "Turn around and face me!"
The Hollow didn't even pause.
It kept walking, steps steady and unhurried, white form stark against the storm dark horizon.
"Why," it asked calmly, "should I listen to you?"
The question wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It sank deep, heavy and unavoidable.
Ichigo opened his mouth—and hesitated.
The Hollow continued, voice flat, almost bored. "You never listen to yourself. You lie. You deny. You pretend you understand things you're too afraid to look at."
It kept walking.
"You abandoned us," it said. "Then you blamed the world for feeling empty."
Ichigo's teeth ground together.
"That's not—" He stopped, breath hitching. "That's not true."
The Hollow didn't respond.
Panic surged again, hotter this time, tangled with pride and desperation.
"I'm the king," Ichigo said suddenly, loudly, as if the words themselves could force reality to bend. "You said it yourself. I'm the king, and you have to listen to me!"
The rain seemed to hesitate.
For the first time, the Hollow made a sound that resembled amusement.
A soft chuckle slipped from beneath the blank mask.
"Not this time."
The Hollow finally tilted its head slightly, just enough to show it had heard him, but it still did not turn around.
"That's not enough anymore," it continued, voice low, carrying effortlessly through the storm. "Orders. Titles. Half truths you tell yourself so you don't have to face what you did."
It kept walking.
"I'm tired of deception," the Hollow said. "Tired of confusion. Tired of being called when you're desperate and discarded when you're afraid of what we really are."
Ichigo stood there, shaking.
"Stop," he said hoarsely. "Please… just stop."
The Hollow didn't.
The distance between them stretched, impossibly long, the white figure shrinking as it moved farther across the endless ocean.
Ichigo's shoulders sagged.
His anger burned out, leaving only exhaustion and a hollow ache that felt worse than any wound Sukuna had given him.
"…Don't leave me," he whispered, the words barely audible beneath the rain.