Ichigo knows that it's only clouds swallowing the sky and that the rain will follow, but the spreading darkness makes him think of Hollows and eating and nothingness. Menos Grandes. Mouths that stretch from horizon to horizon.
He walks home and his shadow strolls beside him, lengthening and shortening each time he passes a streetlight.
You don't need a hunger to eat the world when you've got me inside you, a voice whispers at the back of his brain.
Shut up, he tells it, and waits for winter and war.
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