The following years spent as the heir to the Wandenreich had sharpened Ichigo into something far more dangerous than just a fighter.
Under the heavy hand of Juha Bach, he had learned how to read a room, how to play the market, and how to spot a lie before it was even spoken.
He had become shrewd and calculating, moving pieces across the city like a grandmaster.
Yet, deep inside, the core of Ichigo Kurosaki remained. He was still the boy who protected the weak. He was still the soul that would stand between a victim and a blade. The "Noble Prince" was just a mask; the "Protector" was the truth.
Using the massive resources of the Wandenreich, Ichigo had spent a lot of time searching for the people who mattered to him.
"Report,"
Ichigo said one afternoon, sitting in his private study at the top of the tower.
Haschwalth bowed, placing a file on the desk.
"We have found them, Young Master."
Ichigo opened the file, his heart thumping.
There was a photo of a tall, muscular young man in Mexico. Yasutora 'Chad' Sado.
In this world, he was a champion boxer who refused to use his strength for anything but defense.
He was a hero in his neighborhood.
There were photos from South Korea. Orihime Inoue and Tatsuki Arisawa.
They were living as exchange students.
Orihime was studying medicine, and Tatsuki was a rising star in the martial arts world.
"They have all received scholarships to attend ESU in New York next semester,"
Haschwalth added.
"It was... surprisingly easy to arrange."
Ichigo leaned back, a genuine smile breaking through his serious face.
He didn't care that they wouldn't remember the battles in the Soul Society or the wars against the Espada.
He didn't care if he was a stranger to them.
'I just want you guys to be safe,'
He thought.
'I'll be your friend all over again. I'll make sure your lives are peaceful this time.'
That evening, Ichigo was walking through the long, quiet hallways of the Kurosaki wing of the penthouse.
He was deep in thought, planning his move against Obadiah Stane.
He needed to be careful. He wanted to catch the snake in a trap that would leave no doubt of his guilt.
Suddenly, the air in the hallway changed. It grew cold—not the biting cold of winter, but a spiritual chill that felt like a winter night in a world of cherry blossoms.
Ichigo stopped.
His hand instinctively went to the hilt of the katana at his hip.
His Reimeiku vision flared. He felt a spiritual pressure that was familiar, yet weak and flickering like a candle in the wind.
He turned his head quickly toward a dark corner near the balcony.
"Who's there?"
He asked, his voice low and sharp.
A small, shadows-draped figure stumbled out of the darkness.
She was wearing tattered, black robes—the robes of a Soul Reaper.
Her raven-black hair was messy, and her face was pale and covered in dirt and scratches.
Ichigo's breath caught in his throat. His heart stopped.
"Rukia?"
He whispered.
The girl looked up. Her violet eyes were wide and filled with tears. She was trembling, holding her arm as if it were broken.
When she saw Ichigo—tall, regal, and glowing with power—she let out a sob that broke his heart.
"Ichigo..."
She cried.
Her voice was cracked and tired.
She didn't look at him like a stranger. She didn't look at him like the "Prince of the Wandenreich."
She looked at him with the recognition of a soul that had shared a thousand battles.
"I found you..."
She gasped, tripping forward.
Ichigo moved faster than a flash-step.
He caught her before she hit the floor, pulling her small frame into his chest.
She was freezing cold, but as soon as she touched him, she began to wail, her hands gripping the silk of his white suit.
"I was wandering... for so long,"
She sobbed into his shoulder.
"Everything was dark. The Soul Society was gone. My brother was gone. I was alone in a void of nothingness..."
Ichigo held her tighter, his own eyes stinging.
"It's okay. You're safe now. I'm here."
Rukia pulled back just enough to look at his face. She reached up a shaking hand to touch his orange hair.
"You look so different. So strong. I thought I would never see you again."
"How are you here?"
Ichigo asked.
"Everyone else... they don't remember. They've been rewritten."
Rukia wiped her eyes, a small, shaky smile appearing on her face.
"I was falling through the darkness. I thought I was fading away. But then, an old man appeared. He was wearing a funny hat and a vest. He was drawing on a piece of paper with a pen that looked like it was made of stars."
Ichigo's eyes widened.
"He called himself 'Stan,'"
Rukia nodded.
"He looked at me and smiled. He said, 'Every hero needs their spark, and every story needs its heart.' He told me he was going to send me back, but that I had to find you on my own. He said he had a 'surprise' for me... a world where a King finally got his crown."
She looked around the massive, expensive penthouse.
"Is this it? Is this your kingdom?"
Ichigo let out a long breath, a mix of laughter and relief.
"It's a long story, Rukia. A very long, weird story involving billionaires, superheroes, and my grandfather being the king of the Quincy."
Rukia blinked, her classic "confused" face returning for a split second.
"Your grandfather is a Quincy? Ichigo, have you been hit in the head?"
"I'll explain everything,"
Ichigo promised, lifting her up in his arms. He could feel the Sternritter guards approaching, curious about the spiritual disturbance.
He didn't care. Let them see.
"But first, we need to get you healed. And then... we have a lot of things to talk about."
Rukia leaned her head against his chest, her eyes finally closing in exhaustion.
"I don't care about the world. I just wanted to find you."
Ichigo looked out the window at the New York skyline.
'Thank you, Stan,'
Ichigo thought.
Now, with Rukia by his side and his friends on their way, Ichigo felt really happy.
Obadiah Stane and the shadows of HYDRA had no idea what was coming for them.
The real war was about to begin, and the Prince of Wandenreich finally had one of his most trusted allies back.