Now knowing what her purpose was, she had to decide how to go about accomplishing it.

She returned to the place of white sand and vast skies because she found it easier to think. Being so close to Death gave her a sense of peace, and her mind was able to focus better.

She was not reborn for some reason, which meant that Death did not want her to be alive again.

Such was fine.

She was an old soul, after all, and had plenty of tricks up her sleeves.

Spiritual energy was easily malleable—especially in worlds closer to There than Here—and could be used to create nearly anything if one knew how.

Nearly being the optimal word since she could not—was not allowed to—create a true human body. If she were to live in a human body, she would have to be reborn in one, and she didn't think that would happen for a while.

But she had work to do and needed a body to do so.

So she compressed her spiritual energy, manipulated it, and transformed it until she had something that vaguely resembled a young human woman. She de-aged her body further to that of an adolescent and morphed her face to one of her fondest faces. The smaller and smoother a body was the easier it was to maintain for prolonged periods of time. Wrinkles and height were unnecessary details. But she couldn't be too small otherwise it might cause some irritating misunderstandings.

She gave herself soft pink hair—the most common hair color she had been reborn with. She dallied about her eye colors before settling on a vivid blue-teal.

Lastly, she pulled her spiritual energy out and loosely formed a nondescript white dress. The more details she added to her human-looking form, the more concentration would be required of her to maintain it.

That being said, walking around "naked" was generally frowned upon in non-druidism dominant worlds.

And so she became me.

(◕▾◕✿)

I stepped into the throne room—if it could even be called that, given its garish appearance and lack of throne—of the Soul King.

I immediately understood which world I had been brought to upon seeing the mangled state of such a being.

Bleach.

In the canonical story at the beginning there was no death, nor life. Existence was stagnant, as the cycle of rebirth was in utter chaos. The beings that lived there could not be called human, yet human was what they were. The lack of death forced the spiritual energy to condense and transform those human-yet-not-human beings into something more. Some became what was lovingly called Hollows while others retained what they claimed was humanity.

Death pitied the world and granted it the Soul King, a fragment of itself. With Death intermingled in the story the world began correcting itself from madness into order. The creation of the Soul King allowed the humans to eradicate Hollows—and indeed a genocidal purge was called upon immediately—but too much death upon one side of the cycle threatened instability.

It was then that five incredibly powerful beings came together to try to find a solution. Those beings were later known as the Five Great Noble Families in the Bleachverse. The beings pulled the realm apart, separated it into different versions of the There, Here, and In Between—or Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, and the World of the Living. Doing so required the sealing of the Soul King, and so the fragment of Death was placed upon a mocking throne in the Soul King Palace.

The Soul King, as far as the nobles were concerned, was only a linchpin. To the public, it was a king to serve obediently. Those behind the curtains would know the truth, and they intended to use Soul King as a puppet for their own devices.

Fortunately for those souls, Death did not care what mortals did with its fragment.

Each of these clans had a different goal.

Shiba wanted to create a haven for the Hollows. Shihōin wanted progression from the stagnation they were stuck in. Kuchiki sought order from the chaos. Tsunayashiro blatantly lusted for the Soul King's power. Hanako desired to conceal the pit known to them as hell.

Their goals lead them to the separation of the worlds, but for the Tsunayashiro family it wasn't enough. Their obsession with the Soul King's power lead to them literally ripping the fragment apart, tearing it limb from limb. The other clans followed suit in a crazed haze of power-tripping.

What a fiasco.

It would seem that I had appeared before the Soul King after the story had already played out, yet before it was reset. The souls were in place, yet the environment was not yet shaped. The universe already made but someone hit pause.

Time was irrelevant for such a being known as Death, after all.

Its state alternated between mangled and whole.

It—for it was an ambassador of Death, and thus carried no true gender—knew I was coming, so it welcomed me with its velvety soft voice, "Child of fire, welcome."

I curtsied Death. "Bastard."

It didn't laugh. It was a regal, majestic, and powerful creature. It would not deign jabs, insults, or teasing with any kind of response. If it were human it might have rolled its eyes, or snidely retorted something about my behavior, but it wasn't, so it didn't.

"In my head, you're rolling your eyes," I cheekily supplied.

"In my head, you're well-behaved and courteous," it cooly responded.

"If you want that, maybe stop making me reincarnate in shit holes?" I suggested.

Death did not respond right away. We both knew its answer to such a suggestion, and it never, ever, saw a reason to repeat itself.

With reluctance, I let that topic go, and I instead asked, "Why did you bring them here? I saw the first one be reborn, and I can sense the rest coming. Another story you want to tell...? But hasn't it already been told before? Why was I allowed here?"

"The story has ended, and now it starts again," it said quietly. "You know why you are here."

"Tired of the old story, then?" I mused. The entire point of bringing an outside soul to a new world was to change it, after all. Be it from gods, lords, demons, angels, whatever. If a creature lived long enough to see a reset it'd grow bored soon enough and desire for a change of pace. The best way to accomplish such was adding in an old soul or one with great potential.

I was not a Hero, nor Villain. I was simply an old soul who had reincarnated often enough to know a thing or two about changing stories.

Nodding, I said, "Okay, I accept my role here. Will I be reborn, or stay as is?"

"Remain as you are. Take a weapon, and then act out your role in this play."

The Soul King barely nodded its head to the plain-looking katana before it.

It wasn't terribly surprising it was already prepared. For beings such as itself Now, Then, and Later were watched all at once.

I accepted the weapon and took my leave, returning to the world that I would later know as Hueco Mundo.

"I'll return when I'm ready for the reset," I said.

"I know."

(◕▾◕✿)

I placed the katana in the white sand and took a seat in front of it. It was a black blade—it had darkened to the morbid color the moment I touched it—and it gleamed with an almost malicious aura.

That made me want to pout because I liked to think of myself as someone who was not morbid or malicious. Most of the lives I lived I was a relatively good guy!

'Run the genocide route just a few times and you're marked for life,' I thought ruefully, shaking my head.

What else was there to do when cursed with immortality, though? It was bound to happen, I wasn't that self-disciplined. I thought, perhaps, if I played the role of the villain that maybe my punishment—my karma—would be permanent death.

Nope.

Although I did get sent to different versions of hell which, uh, wow what a trip.

The sinister-looking sword remained stock still—not like I expected it to move, really—while I continued to give it a stink eye for its appearance.

'I better not have an evil spirit inside,' I thought. 'I'm a happy, bubbly, hero! Not a damn villain.'

Only one way to find out.

I reached forward with my spiritual energy and forced my consciousness inside the spiritual energy that resided inside the sword.

Standard Shinigami—Soul Reapers—had to force their spiritual energy—reiatsu—to imprint upon the sword for years. Only after the imprint would the sword take on its unique features, and following that it would take even more years to unlock the ability to communicate with the spirit residing inside the zanpakutō.

Such was because Shinigami were purely spiritual creatures.

Indeed, because they were "reborn" from humans—who are creatures mostly composed of physical energy—they retained a certain level of physical energy.

The exact ratios were:

Humans: 90% physical energy, 10% spiritual energy.

Shinigami: 25% physical energy, 75% spiritual energy.

Hollows: 10% physical energy, 90% spiritual energy.

Quincy: 75% physical energy, 25% spiritual energy.

The physical energy allowed them to stay anchored to their world—it was their vitality if you will. It was a wonderful thing to have, it made it so much easier to interact with the world, and was a clear sign that their souls were strong and healthy.

But, because they had physical energy they had a natural barrier to using their spiritual energy. They had to push past their physical energy—their bodies—and train themselves to use their spiritual energy. It essentially became a foreign appendage for them to use and practice with.

I, oh so sadly, did not get to be properly reborn in this world. I was simply an old soul, so I rested at 100% spiritual energy.

On the bright side, it allowed me to freely use said spiritual energy however I pleased.

On the downside, I had to actively concentrate to maintain my form, and spending time in places of high physical energy—such as the World of the Living (Here)—would be taxing. I also couldn't use any abilities that required physical energy such as chakra, mana, or alchemy.

Which stunk.

Really stunk.

It was like beating the final level of a video game only to start a new level with over half your powers blocked.

Completely lame, and truly a dick move by the infamous Vague-Riddle-Prophecy-Bullshit Bastard known as Death.

When I had pushed enough of my spiritual—er—reiatsu inside the blade I was able to bring my consciousness along with it. Entering the realm of the blade felt like walking through a freezing cold mist.

Worst of all, the inside was downright hideous and grotesque. It was a landscape of black gunk and goo that reeked of the sickly sweet stench of rotting flesh. The "sky" was a whirlwind of dark colors that absolutely clashed with one another and made me want to cringe.

"This is a really morbid mindscape," I observed with narrowed eyes, walking through the black gunk. "Ugh... don't give me villainous powers, please."

Then red eyes gleamed beneath the sea of black, and a wicked smile stretched underneath it.

"Damn it," I cursed, now realizing I did indeed have the Evil™ sword.

(◕▾◕✿)

Once I got a good grip on my zanpakutō, I returned to the Soul King.

It flickered again to hits mangled state, almost looking pitiful. Truly, a shame that canonically the Shinigami treated their beloved Soul King so... cruelly.

Again, not that the Soul King or Death would give any kind of a flying fuck about it, but jeeze what a start.

A start.

Right... I guess that's the first step.

There was one thing I could change off that bat.

The Noble Clans would not be the one to separate the world, or seal (and consequently mutilate) the Soul King. The worlds were already created, the play had already run its course. Things were resetting but the template remained.

What would happen to those noble families, if their status as Great Nobles were redacted because someone else already set up the world like that?

Someone like me.

Death wanted a change in pace. Let's see what happened if those Great Nobles started off as nobodies in the Soul Society. Would they rise to their Great status again, or would they sink into the abyss of anonymity? Who would never be born? Who would replace them?

It was a test to see how powerful Fate was at pull in the story. If I set up the stage earlier than before and someone like Byakuya was still born—and most importantly—still considered someone of a Great Noble family, then I knew Fate would be tricky to fight. When changing a story, one must always consider how powerful a hand Fate would play at.

With Death's permission through the Soul King upon the reset, I fractured the stagnant world and watched the chaos unfold for a couple of years. Rewriting dimensions was always tricky and had to be done carefully. It wasn't as difficult or dangerous as changing the Laws of that reality, but it wasn't something to rush. Time was a ball of messy yarn. I plucked its strongest Royal Guard, Ichibē, before the reset and placed him next to the Soul King.

The Soul King kept Ichibē's soul. Ichibē was a powerful guard and I needed someone to attend to the Soul King while I focused on the other worlds. He was someone I did not want to accidentally get rid of during a reset considering how annoying the final boss was.

I couldn't be certain the Ichibē plucked would remember his first life. Some souls could handle it and others could not. I hoped he would as a "new game plus" version of Ichibē protecting the Soul King sounded nice. I didn't have expectations for it as I was never that lucky.

Honestly I just really hoped Yhwach wouldn't remember the first cycle. New Game Plus Yhwach? No thanks.

So I set up the worlds.

Er, well, technically the Soul King did. I simply directed its power by asking nicely. Changing realities was something reserved for gods and becoming a god was... ugh, who the fuck would want that? Talk about restricting yourself. Suddenly gotta follow Laws and Restrictions when dabbling in the fifth or lower dimensions.

With the worlds split in three and death intermingled at the start the stage was set.

Now it was time to prep the actors.

(◕▾◕✿)

Two thousand, one hundred, and seventy-five years.

That's how long it would take until the Play would start.

It would be nearly two thousand years before that first soul—my dearest—would be reborn. He had chosen to be in the Later, and not the Then.

As much as I would have liked to simply step forward in time and grow up alongside him, for the sake of changing The Ending, I had to start shortly after breaking the world.

Because it all began with changing the heart of Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.

In the first story he was strict, unyielding, and reluctant to show mercy.

He would need his a strong heart to start up the Gotei 13 and lead the Shinigami for thousands of years, but it could not be a heart without compassion.

Without humility.

Without love.

So I began with him. After reaching a satisfactory level of comfort with my zanpakutō, I stepped back to the Then and I found a small boy with a heart of a phoenix, and the eyes of a crocodile.

In a world without society, without structure or protection, the weak—children—always suffered the worst.

Genryūsai looked up at me, at this odd woman with hair unlike his own and eyes filled with kindness never shown to him. He was a tattered, small thing, wearing rags smeared with dirt and blood. He was covered in marks, scars, and bruises that revealed a hard life of scavenging for food.

I stretched out my hand to him and offered him the sweetest, warmest, smile my old heart could give. "Hello. You can call me Rirī. I'm going to make you strong."

(◕▾◕✿)

Answer: Shinigami with a kick ass elemental sword. :D

Question: Who would make the best teacher for you in the Bleach-verse?

Reviews are love!