Chapter 1: Broken, Scattered and Shattered
EDIT (I tried to keep some mystery, but apparently I fail at it so I added a little more clues to people can follow better and a one paragraph explanation below for those who still don't get it.)
All Ichigo remembered was the scream.
It was blood curdling, inhuman, terrifying.
It was terror made manifest, a tangible thing that crept through his skin like thousands of insects that gnashed throughout, over and under his own skin. It was the roar of a monster that spoke of void, emptiness that could never be filled by whatever man could create, whatever nature could show. Nothing, even the very soul of the world could grant it satisfaction. It was the howl of anger, or regret that would never fade, the only proof he needed that the world was cruel, and that the act of doing right would never, ever, go unpunished.
He remembered hearing the godforsaken sound, one that would chill the very souls of whoever heard it, no matter how depraved, and tried to find solace in the darkness he had unleashed upon the realm.
He would have found it if he did not remember what the darkness brought after he swung his sword and the chilling consequences of his actions. He had achieved what he wanted to achieve, but the cost was far, far steeper than he had imagined. And accompanying that memory were his feelings, his desire to simply give in to all his pent up anger and strike someone down, to be the executioner for once.
He was in the right. He possessed the moral high ground. He was the one who would have been hailed a hero for doing the world such a justice...
But he was the one who was left broken; wailing into a sea of his own darkness.
He held his eyes shut not long after the darkness fell, filled with the knowledge that even if it faded, there would be nothing left to see.
His hearing went away next, along with his sense of touch when the screaming, his screaming, was too much to bear. His throat was raw, and yet fresh thanks to his Hollow nature, but his mind had yet deemed it necessary to stop his terrible cry. After what seemed like hours, he stopped caring entirely, and with that, the crawling sensation tearing at his throat faded soon after.
His sense of smell was quite confusing though. He didn't know when that faded, simply because his attack left no trace. The air was scentless to begin with, and his reiatsu would have torn away the air itself, taking whatever scents it carried into oblivion. His only solace there was that he didn't have to inhale the harsh stench of freshly split blood, the wave of darkness he unleashed obliterating the liquid.
He knew then that he was alone, hopelessly and irreversibly alone. He had destroyed everything, and only he himself remained in the aftermath.
He almost laughed at the thought, the universe seemed to give him another suitable punishment after he trashed Hell itself.
He would be surrounded in darkness and tormented for eternity.
o0OO0o
What is that...?
When the light fragrance of flowers stirred his supposedly nonexistent senses, he was quite surprised. No, that would be an understatement; the only thing that kept him from rushing to the source of the aroma was the fact that he didn't even have enough strength to lift the lids covering his eyes. He had no other choice but wait until his senses returned to him, and as they did, he felt less and less... alive.
He could never tell the actual name of the flower whose scent he breathed in, but it was oddly familiar. It was not overpowering, not something that would be considered aromatic, certainly not appealing but it was... redolent. It gave an impression of familiarity, but there was something missing. Add in a whiff of ocean air, he could most closely compare it to something he last smelled, a decade ago.
Her hair always smelled like flowers, because of the shampoo she would use, with a slight hint of ocean air. He thought fondly. It was the only thing he ever breathed whenever he was being cradled in her arms, the only times he felt truly safe. A decade has past but the memories, every instance he had been with her perfectly photographed, were forever etched in his memory.
His hope grew as his sense of touch returned next, bringing with it the warmth that could only truly be hers. The nostalgia hit him harder than anything he had ever felt, just as the soft, tender embrace that enveloped him held him together. He had not the strength to return the gesture, not even the smallest power to squeeze back, but it was enough to know that he was being held.
She was here. His dead mother was here
It was enough that she held him, the way she had always held him.
In that moment, together with the darkness, accompanied only by chilling silence, he was a child again.
He was weak.
He was helpless.
He was alone.
But he had her warmth, and he was once again in the loving hold of the only one who could make him smile. In the darkness, he had found his light again, and in the silence he had found his resolve. Except this was no longer a battle against an enemy, but one he had to wage with himself. He had found his sun and every fiber of his soul screamed for him to hold her, to open his eyes, to tell her everything.
Then again, he knew he had to wait. He knew that his strength would return, eventually, and if not to the level he was accustomed to, he would be able to at least be with her. If he could not shatter mountains and render oceans into nothingness with his bare hands, he would be to at least hold her in his arms. If he could not longer perceive things that went beyond sound, and closed in on light, he would at least be able to gaze upon her face and see her smile like she always had. If he could not wield the power of the Gods of Death, then he will live with the knowledge that she was with him; alive.
It took quite a while for his sense of hearing to return, he was greeted by music. It was awkward, wordless, and almost inaudible but he could hear it; he knew exactly what it was. The soft humming, accompanied by her warm breath tickling his ear, was a simple lullaby. He had friends who played music, he could drown himself in it at times, but at that moment, such a simple song was perfection.
If only his hearing was not as sharp as it was.
As much as he wanted to remain in the moment, to focus on what was before him, for fear that even the slightest distraction would take away what he had, but he was trained better than that. Two of the most fearsome captains made sure that if he could not cast spells, if he could not wield a sword that would impress the Captain Commander, he knew something. He knew how to perceive and to adapt.
His old teacher did tell him his most frightening aspect was not his strength, but the rate at which he grew stronger, faster, smarter: better.
And to grow, to adapt, to react, one needed to perceive and he did. Behind the soft lullaby he could hear the whispers of the wind, the light rustling of the trees as they swayed and footsteps. They were light, extremely so, possessing the quality only found in natural predators when they were stalking prey. Vaguely, he could recall a certain black cat walking in total silence, so he was lucky he could hear the soft crunch of something being crushed underfoot. It didn't take a genius to figure out the rest of the situation from there.
He was being held close and sung to while whatever was approaching them treaded unimpeded. If anything, it reminded him of the last time they were together, and the haunting conclusion that followed after. The scene that would eventually make him hate the rain and want to destroy the heavens when so much as drizzled. The moment he realized his mother died and it was his fault came back to him.
Not this time. He thought resolutely as he willed whatever power he still had come forth.
"No." She said weakly, her voice holding nothing but concern for him even in it's obvious weakness as he tried escape her. "Don't... go... You'll... get... hurt... I'll..." She struggled to speak as he softly nudged at the arms that held him down, fighting down the guilt pooling in his soul when her pain snaked its way into his ears. She was hurt, she protected him again as he slumbered, just like back then.
"It's fine, mom." He said in the most reassuring tone he could muster in his weakness, even as he warred with himself. He didn't need to see to feel the apprehension rolling of her, nor did he want to fight her to ensure their survival, but he needed to fight. He would protect her this time, and to do that he would have to be as far away from her as possible. "I'm not going to let them hurt you this time."
He couldn't find his sword.
He was unsure whether or not his power would prove sufficient.
His senses were still playing tricks on him.
He didn't know how many they were up against.
Still, he was never more sure about anything he had ever said in his life.
Her grip soon went slack as he mustered the strength to stand. He felt the chill of ice underfoot while the wind gained an icy edge as it blew around him. He wanted to be back in her embrace, to feel her warmth, to listen to her sweet song while her soft heartbeat kept time, yet he knew he could not. At least not before he dealt with whatever it was before him that dared threaten to take her away again.
He opened his eyes; he felt the biting cold wind try to claw at them but he didn't so much as flinch.
All he saw was black and white, creatures of darkness against the stark winter landscape. They were blurs, almost melding perfectly with each other in a sea of monochrome. That was fine with him, he never really needed to see his opponents when he fought them. He could feel them anyway, with the relatively small distance between him and whatever they were. He fought bald luck half-blind after all.
So he could perceive the multitude of creatures before him, not in their inky blackness, but of the uniqueness of their power, not as empty as a Hollow, but just as ravaging, just as malicious. It was strange, sharing more of a resemblance with the power of Fullbringers than Hollows, somewhat dark, and yet still fully alive. It was still animalistic, almost devoid of all reason, but it was just that, pure instinct.
They were weak, almost not worth the time it would take to dispose of them, but they were threatening him. They were threatening the woman behind him. For a crime such as that, he would end them and he would enjoy doing it. A small part of him, the part still somewhat rational, screamed at him to keep his instincts in check, but an animalistic whisper egged him to go and kill the would-be predators.
It would be easy, taking nothing more than a single punch to end them, to punish them for their insolence. It would be harder to kill them all individually than simply willing his power to push with all its strength and crush them outright. Then again, with her behind him and his level of control, it would be difficult to make sure that she would remain unaffected.
So he made the first move, rushing into the fray with a burst of inhuman speed. He did not know exactly how fast he traveled but with a single bound, he closed the distance between him and the creature waiting at the very tail of the group: the one farthest from his original position. He couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged on his lips, as his powers still retained a level of strength, and he struck.
Memories of days long past surfaced as his rage lanced through him. Teachers long gone, teachers he failed were at the forefront of his mind as the creature's eyes met him, and the guilt followed soon after. The anger and sorrow seemed to make the red glow even brighter but as it fueled the beasts, it fueled his strikes.
Tessho: the iron palm was the easiest to execute; a blindingly fast strike with the simple thrust to the head with enough strength to crush concrete. The monster he fought didn't have a prayer.
It made no sound as its bone white mask, reminiscent of the empty despairing souls he cleansed, imploded into itself, killing it instantly while an explosion of force powered through, flinging ice and snow everywhere even from behind the creature's shattered form. He clenched his fist even as the monster's form began fading, the smirk on his face nothing but murderous in the eyes of any observer.
He didn't need to see to know that his blow was enough to dig a sizable trench along the path of the blow, even as it annihilated the main target.
His strength was not as it was, but it would be sufficient.
With that thought in mind, he confronted the first monster to face him, lazily sidestepping as the strange hybrid lunged at him with full fury. A horizontal chop, so fast that human eyes could not hope to detect it, bisected the creature from maw to tail before both pieces crashed into the snow behind him. He paid no mind to the other four caught in the shockwave of his attack, suffering the same fate of their comrade just by being in range of the blade of wind formed by the gesture.
This is taking too long. He thought before flinging a fist forward, a small burst of power bursting outward just as his arm reached full extension. The instinctively launched Bala bulldozed through the ranks of monsters, killing at least another four as it flew with speeds far eclipsing its more powerful counterpart. Another flew soon after, striking one closest to the woman just at it rushed in to end her.
The Bala was the counterpart of the Cero and, like all techniques of its kind, was something learned instinctively. It was a condensed mass of power released more often than not in the form of a punch, launching it towards the target at breakneck speeds. It was used against single opponents as a form of distraction, but if the foe was weak enough, a single strike may very well prove to be excessive.
From a single shot to massive barrages, it was by far more versatile when compared to its more powerful counterpart, compensating for its lack of power with its sheer speed and fire rate.
Trying to strike at the woman he protected rather than him would be their final mistake.
Power, pure and terrible, impregnated the air in an instant, sending beings of reason to their knees as they experienced fear, but only stilling the creatures that feed on sorrow and despair.
It was their only warning before a veritable hailstorm of power flooded the snowy field with its menacing glow. It was an instant later, when bright red finally faded from view, that one would be able to see several headless corpses lying in the snow, their black forms in stark contrast to the white ground as they faded away slowly. Each died after being struck by a single attack, no more and no less.
His smile faded as his sight returned as soon as the massacre ended, his eyes on the woman he had been wanting to see for the past decade. Brown orbs widened in panic before he crossed the distance.
Hands drifted from her neck, temples, wrists and chest as he frantically searched for a pulse, his apprehension growing each moment he failed to find even the faintest of heartbeats. Her hands were still warm but they were deathly pale, almost as lifeless as the day she left him. She wore strange clothing, predominantly white like her heritage suggested, but the red shined against the dreary monochrome. Her hair was even brighter than he remembered, a river of the purest sunlight even by the light of the waning moon, and her visage was gentle, almost at ease despite his own inquietude.
His heart broke once more when he realized the scene was exactly identical to what occurred that decade.
He was close, so close, but he failed once again. Even as he annihilated the enemy, he was too...
"NO!" A voice not his own roared into the night as his power escalated to heights they had not reached in memory. The vermilion and sable fled from the blanket of power that enveloped the area more completely than the snow brought about by the winter storm as bright blue filled the air. The flaring mass of pure energy seemed to gather around the boy as he fell on his knees even as tears began falling.
In an instant, the clearing was flooded with light, shining even more brilliantly than a newborn star, as his power once again reached transcendence. Power of the Soul, so magnificent, so absolutely beyond graced the world as his death cry reached the heavens. Around him, the ground quivered with fear as pure force dug into the earth and tore boulders from its very depths. Trees were uprooted as ice, stone, and air were not destroyed but unmade in the presence of such indomitable strength. Light that was not shined in the center of the great typhoon of reverse creation, cutting through blue radiance.
Time was rendered meaningless; how could it matter when in the face of such despair, in such terrible dominance?
After what seemed like eons the power simply vanished completely, leaving a boy face-down on the snow beside the woman he failed to protect.
"Please wake up..." He whispered before welcoming the darkness he had held on to for so long.
o0OO0o
This... isn't heaven. She concluded sagely, quietly nodding to herself as she took in her surroundings. Nope definitely not heaven.
The area around her was bare of everything that could resemble life, a vacuous wasteland devoid of... anything for that matter. In any and every direction, the world was black, the only exception being the thin crescent that hung in the sky above them. As far as the eye could see, from horizon to horizon, was an impossibly large expanse of pure nothing, uniform and perfect, from the blackened earth to the empty starless sky. In her eyes, it was like whoever sat upstairs decided to grab an eraser and just rubbed away before shading the blank space in with black.
She could feel the black soak into everything, but it wasn't the malice she was so used to fighting. She didn't know how, but it was just plain different. It's just so... weird, like the sun decided to break...
A gentle, spluttering snore brought her out of her reverie, her eyes immediately taking the sight of whoever made that adorable noise. She had to keep herself from squealing on the spot.
Sleeping soundly on the obsidian glass ground was a little boy, not even close to puberty yet. He slept on his chest, his form, barely covered by what looked like a lose fitting robe, slowly rose and fell with every breath he took. If his scrunched nose and furrowing brow were anything to judge by, he seemed to be having a nightmare as he slept, forcing him to twist slowly on the eerily smooth ground.
She didn't even need to think before slowly reaching out, plucking him from the ground as gently as a mother cat does her kittens before laying his head on her lap, all the while a serene smile plastered on her face. It was a fond smile that only seemed to grow as she watched his expression shift into a bright beam only a child was capable of making. She brushed orange locks aside before breathing easily.
She didn't know where she was.
She knew she died. She was wounded long before she reached the clearing, why and for what seemed to elude her through. She knew she fought, while the reason escaped her. She knew that she was losing, that she should have fled, but she didn't know what drove her to continue or what urged her to stay. For reasons she could not grasp, or she could no longer grasp, she was dead. That was a fact.
She didn't know who the child was.
She woke up soon after she realized she died, that her life was over, but instead of finding the heaven she still seemed to remember, she found blackness and a child. She couldn't help but ache for the child, who was with her, who, she could only assume, suffered the same fate she had. But that was it, the end of everything she knew about the child. The child on her lap was a total enigma to her.
She didn't know what she would do from there.
There where large gaps in her memory, moments in her life without the faces and places she's been without any of the names. That was just the start of all the complications. She knew she fought, but neither the weapon or who taught her such skills. She knew she could do things that should be impossible, but it seemed to be things she knew instinctively, no explanation required.
She didn't even know her own name at the point. But then again, she didn't care. She knew she was somewhat of a 'go-with-the-flow' kind of girl anyway.
She fell in love the instant she laid eyes him and after that...
In that one simple moment, she was happy again. It was amazing. Being with the kid, it all just seemed to right, like it was fate that brought them together. Intuitively, she knew it was she had to just be with him. It's not that she would have left the random, obviously still living child alone to fight it out on his own, but she felt a need to take him with her. She knew it wasn't the case, but she felt he was hers.
Call it maternal instinct, but she would be raising him, no matter what anyone would say.
Better wait for him to wake up before doing anything really life changing.
She allowed herself a self-satisfied huff before humming softly a song she just knew. She allowed the melody to carry her through memories she no longer possessed and the feelings that still seemed to reach her. She knew warmth even as the snow started falling once more, bringing white to the obsidian landscape.
The mixture of hot and cold, of freezing and thawing, of the warm sunlight together with winter's chill seemed to capture her being so plainly that she simply had not choice but to feel at ease.
"Aki..." She breathed as the song ended, a slight chuckle at the end of her lips as she shook her head.
It felt so strange, not quite a perfect fit, but it was enough for now. It was bright, it was warm, but at the same time it was calm and sober. It was what was left of the her who died, the remnant of the past she managed to carry even after she passed over. It may not have been her then, but she would make do with it until she found the strength to retrace her steps and take back what she had lost.
"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" She looked up with mirrored eyes, a hand soothingly combing through his hair as she threw the question at no one in particular. "It almost makes me want to reach up and try to take it for myself, just so I can enjoy it all the time. But that wouldn't do now, would it?" A gentle laugh echoed through the emptiness as under the cover of darkness, night turned into day.
She looked down with eyes shining brighter than starlight before cooing lovingly. "No, if I wanted to take the moon from out of the sky, I would have it to keep it close for the both of us."
o0OO0o
They were beautiful.
Beyond the large glass window he gazed through, he could see the stars shining ever so brightly, illuminating the moonless sky with flickers of white light. Alone, each of the twinkling lights in the vast inky void would have been rendered invisible, just too insignificant to catch the eye of any would-be observer, but together in their billions, maybe more, they created a symphony of light. There were no clouds to block the faint light that gently set the sky aglow, neither was the moon present to replace the sun as the brightest in the heavens after night has fallen; there were only stars in the sky that night.
It was a magnificent sight, undeniably one that would be etched into the minds of any observer lucky enough to witness it.
It was even more so for the one who sat on a small couch, gazing at the night sky outside the window. His face was of a man, regal and proud, and his features were handsome, befitting a king or any monarch of great eminence. He was clothed in a simple dress shirt, as white as the starlight above, while black slacks and neat leather shoes completed the image of a wealthy businessman, enjoying the stars this fine night. The only flaw in the picture was the way he looked at the dazzling skyline; bright blue eyes seemed to have lost their luster, shining only through a film of unshed tears.
They were there not because of the beauty that the scene inspired, no the tears he did not dare shed were for the night. It was beautiful, yet to him, it was just so wrong.
In this inner world, where the sun reigned supreme above an endless maze of skyscrapers, the night itself is wrong.
"Oi, old man! Are you going to keep sulking or do we start trying to clean up this mess?" The man looked to his right to see why was speaking to him, a much younger boy with waist length hair asked impatiently. "I mean, it's nice we're all sitting here and talking for a change, but if your just going to throw a silent hissy-fit then say so. I'm even talking properly for fuck's sake!"
He wore a simple white kimono with a black undergarment underneath, matching the black obi wrapped around his waist. Contrasting the man on the couch, he had an amused smirk on his face, while his eyes lit up with a strange joy, holding neither humor nor malice in it. If one didn't know better, one would assume he was genuinely happy to see the old man in such a state, or simply seeing the old man at all. Those who did know better knew he was happy they were finally engaging in open dialogue instead of the usual 'one talks while the other is hidden away and being tortured' routine.
"I have to agree with the boy, you are behaving like a child, yourself." Coming from the man's left this time, another voice chimed in with a hint of amusement in his tone. "Then again, you two have always behaved like the children that you are. If you two simply learned to cooperate at one point, we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. I guess it was too much to hope from a pair of children."
The old man turned to meet the malicious gaze of the man to his left with cold indifference. His own stoic mask clashed with the other's venomous grin before the man opposite him shook his head almost wistfully. He was dressed in a crisp three piece suit dyed the deepest black, the only white contrasting being the dress shirt peeking under his vest and jacket and the cuffs on his wrists. His hair, brightest gold, was the shortest among the three and but as the color was shared with the elder man, he was the splitting image of the boy seated on the right, if only an older version.
They were the three inhabitants in such a twisted world, one madness and instinct: a Hollow, another intellect and fortitude: a Quincy, while the last remained an unknown to this day.
"Be silent. You forget that I was old long, long before you were even born." The older man said with a tone that left no room for argument. "But to continue this futile argument is pointless. I am allowing both of you here because there is something that must be discussed, something that, as much as I have invested my efforts to change, involves all three of us. He must not know of this... situation."
"You mean the fact that you half-assed it?" The boy asked snidely as the younger man had difficulty fighting down the chuckle threatening to escape him.
"I performed perfectly, the woman is alive, is she not?" The old man argued back evenly. "If I truly wished otherwise then there would be a massive crater outside, the matter itself transformed into pure energy before the massive explosion would rock the earth. As much as it pains me to say this, what we are experiencing is simply the lesser of the two evils. Such power coupled with such grief would have doomed us all."
The boy would have made a snide retort before the younger man reentered the conversation.
"Well, as far as I can tell, this new arrangement isn't that far from the old one from my standpoint." The younger man said with a wry smile. "I found it strange to encounter anyone at all when I made my final move against that woman, but when I wake up to see you, I was somewhat... content? It was far better than the complete isolation in the sands, as well as the experiments that madman preformed. I never even contacted our landlord once these past years so I am not against everything remaining the same. What of the two of you though, how do you feel about this arrangement?"
The old man looked passive, almost thoughtful when he heard the question while the boy simply furrowed his brows in irritation before lashing out. He was impatient enough as it was with the meeting having no purpose from his perspective. With something like this occurring, he saw no other alternative to provoking the two older beings present in the room.
He would always rather fight than talk about his feelings.
"I thought there was nothing in that chest of yours?" The boy snapped at the younger man, a scowl firmly set on his face. "What's with this talking about our feelings and shit? If this is what you called us here for then I'm out of..." He was cut off when a single black blade, infernal wisps of sickly pale smoke emanating from it's edge, suddenly found itself millimeters from his neck. His eyes rand down the length of it to find the young man's hand at the end of it. "Wanna go a round, pretty boy? Big mistake. If all it took to beat your ass to the ground was some little girl then this will be way too easy."
"Kid, I've been kicking ass and taking names before you were even born. You think I only fought once, and lost? You must be dumber than I thought." Another long black blade materialized in the young man's hand, reaching the boy's neck even as he remained seated on his own couch. "Yeah I lost to the woman, but against kids like you two, this will be a peace of cake. I don't even need both blades."
"Bullshit, you have both of them out don't you?" The teenage boy mocked as he held on to one of them and squeezed, a small trickle of blood running down his pale arm. "You're not that good."
"Let's find out then, shall we?" The young man retorted, the glow of yellow beginning to flow from the blade and consume the boy's hand and neck even as they touched the vile metal.
They would have clashed then and there if a strange vacuum took the power from the very air and rendered their blades null. The eldest among them sighed exasperatedly as he rubbed his temples.
"If you two are done." The old man interjected, the three swords dissolving into black mist and melting into his form. "We must hide ourselves away, from everyone lest we are discovered. If anyone catches wind of the fact that we were not lost in the battle, there will be much unneeded conflict. This is to ensure not only our safety but that of everyone, considering what... could happen otherwise."
The young man sighed and crossed his arms while the boy twitched in anger. Without the blades at his neck, there was nothing keeping him silent.
"Fan-fucking-tastic! So not only did you screw up the move, now we have to leave him behind to fend for himself? You want him even weaker than he already is, right after all the shit that happened, is that it?" The boy demanded angrily, summoning his own blade and holding the old man at sword-point. "I don't give a damn that you held the both of us up for so long! I don't care that you stole everything from me, my job, my place, my own fucking name, but if you dare think we're ditching the King to despair in the name of saving him then you have another thing coming you fucking asshole!"
Unlike the simple sword of the golden-haired boy, this blade was anything but conventional. Compared to the lethality and efficiency the black cavalry sword, the massive nodachi, exhibited with it's lessened curve and it's obscenely sharp edge, the boy's blade was one of savage fury, shining white while its edge dawned a shade that would make the night look as bright as noon.
It was not as elegant, but it was massive, it's blade somewhat broader than the other man's blade and just as long. It lacked a true edge as well, sporting teeth that seemed to be more suited to tearing and shredding rather than the clean cut their blades were known for. While the nodachi was a blade of nobility, this was one of beasts, a weapon that aimed to torture its victims for a slow and painful death.
"Zangetsu, that's enough!" The younger man bellowed as a massive force bared down on the newly-identified Zangetsu. "If the old man says it's for the best, then for fuck's sake, it's for the best. The boy's still alive isn't he? You were released so he can further his power when it was required, am I mistaken? You both want to protect him so leave it to your elder to decide the right method for doing so."
"And I'm supposed to believe you're fucking alright with this?" The seething ZanpakutÅ spirit spat at the older Hollow while eyes of gold clashed against hard crimson.
"I am content that he lives." The final being replied with a shrug, not phased the ZanpakutÅ's glare in the least. "You two have been doing a fine job in making sure such remains and that I am not needed in any way. If a situation arises when there is nothing your combined power can do to make sure he lives, I will intervene, but not before. This decision does not affect me in the least, remember?"
"Thank you, White." The old man mumbled awkwardly, definitely not expecting the day to arrive when he would actually thank a hollow. "Now here's what we'll do to ensure he remains safe..."
Both leaned in as he uttered the words that would forever haunt them.
"We'll have to leave."
The explosion of red might as well have replaced the sun, it's fiendish radiance reducing everything in miles to nothingness.
Author's Note
Hi, Proccit here!
Sorry it's late but I really wanted this to be the best I could make it in the time it took the actually write this. Obviously this is dedicated to the great creator of our favorite color-themed, child hunting, monster killing web show, Monty Oum, may God bless his soul, and Happy Valentines day for everyone too.
With all the RWBY coming out I decided to try my hand at something like it. First Fanfics have to start somewhere so I just went for it. Like everyone else, I'll try to update as soon as possible and make this little piece of work unique. Can't really promise anyone dates but it will at least be somewhere in the 4-6K range.
I know you have to be, well five, not to see what's happening here so please don't spoil it for those who can't see it yet if you choose to honor me with a review.
(Edit; never mind, apparently even after some more editing it's confusing as hell so let's break it down a bit. Part one is where we meet our favorite hero being tormented by his own inner darkness and the only thing that can pull him out is the Light of his life: after that, its not exactly too hard to finish that part up. Part two is surreal, I will admit, but writing an amnesiac is somewhat more difficult that I imagined. I thought this was obvious from the get go, but that's the woman Ichigo may or may not have mistaken for his mother. I say may or may not because even at the latest chapter, it hasn't been confirmed yet. Part three is the argument in his inner world where Zangetsu, Quincy Zangetsu or Tensa as I like to call him and White, the hollow from Masaki who supposedly dissolved to become Zangetsu, decide what to do. That is basically chapter 1 Also credits to Amiodarona, quite literally, this entire fic was inspired by White Chrysanthemum)
All those who liked it though, be prepared to see our favorite strawberry nerfed by the time he fights the next creature of Grimm.
Having what looks like a little kid thrashing monsters that unified a world at war like they're nothing was never the best way to squeeze in plot anyway; my opinion, just saying. If some can pull it off, well good for them; I know I can't.
That's all for now, read if you wish, review if you are urged to and favorite or follow at your pleasure.
Bye bye! :)