Zangetsu has been hanging out near the carnival itself. He hadn't yet found a group to accompany, and leaving the actual Carnival-parts unguarded seemed like a bad idea to him. He patrols the vaguely defined borders, his magic-sucking leech Pickles in an old soda bottle tied to his waist (just in case), when he senses something intense.

And hot.

He's felt it once before, back in Portland. Back then it was all chaos, the fiery energy being mixed up with the also present iciness of the Count of Crows. This time it was alone. ... Probably. Fae had a sort of... fuzzy quality to their reiatsu that Zangetsu chalked up to sheer power.

"ShhhhhhiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT."

It's not hard to find Ignatius; he's as much a physical beacon as he is a spiritual one. Zangetsu draws his sword and wishes, desperately, that Ichigo were here.