Chapter 2: Kriegserklärung
Ichigo Kurosaki was walking down the street leading to his house. The sun was just beginning to recede beneath the skyline, throwing numerous ever changing shadows of half-light over him. Orange light seeped over him, swathing his body to match his hair.
It had been several weeks since the incident with Ginjo Kujo, and he was just getting back into the swing of having his Soul Reaper powers back. Everything was slowly returning to normal.
However, something was nagging at him. Something that just didn't seem right. He felt uneasy.
Almost as if he were being watched.
Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryusai sat at his desk musing over paperwork. The oil lamp at his side flickered, throwing a glow over the darkness around him. Placing down the pen, he drifted his hand over the desk.
As strange as it may sound, his missing arm itched. The phantom limb had been plaguing him on and off for the past several months. A "trophy" of war; he had refused prosthetics and even the promise of restoring it.
"For the office of the Head Captain, this really isn't very well guarded," a voice said, calling out clearly behind him.
Without missing a beat, Yamamoto turned to face the intruders. "Don't presume that I am so old and dishevelled that I am in need of security." He rose to his feet. "I alone am security enough."
Stood before Yamamoto was a group of six. All were swathed in a white cloak and wore a black mask. The foremost one was clapping his hands.
"Well look at you all brash and presenting yourself," he chuckled, holding his hands clasped together. "I must say, that's mighty impressive for someone your age."
Yamamoto didn't waver even for a second. His gaze narrowed and his pupils pinpricked. "I'm feeling generous today... If you remove yourself from my presence right now, I will let you off with a light charring."
"My, my," the masked man chuckled again. "Those are some big words. But alas... I am not here to fight you. I am here to deliver a message."
Yamamoto stopped briefly to listen.
"The Vandenreich is ready. This is a declaration of war." Beneath the mask, the man continued to laugh. "Soon, the Soul Society will be no more; and you, dear Head Captain, will be dead."
Grinning silently to himself, Yamamoto took a step forwards. "At first I thought you rude, but now I see the truth. You are insane." He gripped his cane tightly in his remaining right hand. "No one in their right mind would face me head on and declare war so brazenly!"
As the cane dissipated, revealing his Zanpakuto, Yamamoto let out a hoarse cry. "Reduce all creation to ashes! Ryujin Jakka!"
Almost as if he were expecting this, the masked man raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. The wooden floor beneath the Head Captain's left foot instantly gave way, throwing the old man off-balance.
Waving his hand, the man laughed for one final time. "And with that, I bid you adieu."
The cloaked men vanished into a void of shadow.
Ichigo Kurosaki stood outside Urahara Shoten with a bemused look on his face. It was already past midnight when he had received the summons from the eccentric store owner. It would take him a week to remove that much paint.
Venturing forth into the shop, he called out into the darkness. "Tessai? Urahara? Jinta? Ururu?"
Advancing further into the dimly lit confines, he continued to search. Boxes and crates were stacked up to the ceiling and the whole room smelled of moth-balls. Dust filled the air as he dug through the clutter looking for the door to the back room.
The lights suddenly clicked on, illuminating Ichigo and temporarily blinding him. "Hello, Ichigo-chan~!"
Ichigo glared into the gap in the boxes, finding himself nose-to-nose with the owner of the shop. Like usual his hat was pulled down to the bridge of his nose, shrouding his face in shadow.
"What did you want, Urahara?"
Parting the boxes, Urahara smiled slightly before sitting Ichigo down on the floor and joining him. "There appears to be a bit of a situation in the Soul Society."
Weighing the words in his mind, Ichigo sat in silence and listened.
"Now this isn't anything that would affect you here, but I felt the need to tell you. Full disclosure. At the moment, it appears that things are under control, however, should anything go wrong, you may be needed to step in."
Urahara held Ichigo's gaze; their eyes locked in subtle understanding.
"What... What's happened in the Soul Society?" Ichigo asked slowly.
"We have happened," arose a cheerful voice behind him.
Whirling around, Ichigo saw a man leaning against the edge of the entrance to Urahara Shoten. His hair was neatly slicked back with oil and held a blue sheen to it. Affixed to the side of his face was a fragment of an enamel-like mask. He wore a pure white military uniform.
"My name is Leon," the man smirked, bowing. "And I have been sent here to deal with you, Ichigo Kurosa-"
The foot that connected with his face was the last thing that Leon expected. Flying through the air, carried by the force of the kick, he caved in the wall across the street from the shop as his back found brick.
Dusting himself off, he broke into another smirk as he eyed Ichigo's Shinigami form with glee.
"What business does an Arrancar want with me?" Ichigo asked, raising his oversized Zanpakuto; the blade glinting in the moonlight.
"Now who said that I was an Arrancar?" Leon chuckled, leaping into the sky and raising his left arm. Blasting from his wrist, blue reishi encircled his hand before forming into the shape of a sword.
Ichigo's eyes opened in surprise as Leon fell upon him, slashing down at his head.
"What's going on?!" he shouted, blocking the slash with his blade. "Arrancar don't form blades from Reishi!"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Leon said, forcing Ichigo's blade back, sending him flying into the air. "And I told you already!" He pointed the blade up towards Ichigo. "I'm not an Arrancar!"
Several blasts of spirit energy rocketed from the blade towards the airborne shinigami. Detonating fiercely, the night sky was illuminated by explosions of blue fire.
Ichigo emerged from the smoke, burned up his left forearm. Gritting his teeth, he glared down at the man.
He had seen something that he thought he would never see on another person besides Uryu. Hanging from Leon's wrist was a Quincy cross.
"Who are you?!" Ichigo shouted down at the ground.
"I already told you!" Leon laughed, beginning to launch wave after wave of projectiles at the Shinigami. "My name is Leon!"
"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Ichiro replied, slicing through the blasts that came his way, and dodging those he couldn't cut. "Why do you have a Quincy cross?!"
"Maybe if you defeat me, you'll find out," he shouted in response, dashing to the side, down a narrow alleyway, all the while firing off projectiles. "But at this pace you won't be anywhere near good enough! You're going to have to use Bankai!"
Ichigo noted the taunt. Squinting his eyes, he kicked off of the solidified platform on reishi on which he stood and sped towards the ground. Swinging his Zanpakuto in a wide arc upwards, he ripped up slabs of concrete as he slashed at Leon.
Blocking the swipe with his Reishi blade, Leon allowed the force of the strike to carry him upwards before suspending himself on airborne Reishi. Continuing his barrage of blasts, the alleyway was completely illuminated in blue light.
"Come on Kurosaki, use your Bankai! Show it to me!"
More taunting, Ichigo thought to himself. He's leading me towards something... I can tell.
Kicking off of the ground, Ichigo dodged the blasts mid-air and took another swipe at the apparent Quincy. Again it was blocked.
Leon grinned at Ichigo over the clashed blades. "Shall I take that as a no?"
Only one way to find out. I'm calling his bluff.
Forcing back Leon's blade, he flung his opponent through the sky.
"BAN-KAI!"
Spiritual pressure tore through the air, illuminating the skyline of Karakura-cho in white light.
Leon's smile widened in glee. Dispersing his reishi sword, he pulled a medallion from his pocket and held it in front of his body at arm's length.
This is it, Ichigo Kurosaki! he thought to himself. Your Bankai ends here!
What happened next occurred so fast that Leon didn't even have time to register it.
Ichigo, for lack of a better word, vanished. Reappearing behind the supposed Quincy, the Substitute Soul Reaper raised his jet black blade before slashing downwards. The arm in which Leon held the medallion was cleaved off in one strike.
"Every time you mentioned my Bankai, you glanced down at your pocket," Ichigo said, pressing the tip of his blade into Leon's neck. "What was that thing that you had in your hand? And what does it have to do with my Bankai?"
Leon gritted his teeth. Glaring at Ichigo, he clasped the bloody stump that used to be his arm.
"You will pay for that, Ichigo Kurosaki…" he spat out; venom in his words. "You wait… Once the Vandenreich attacks you will pray for death. Watch the earth crumble beneath you; your world shatter."
"The Vanden-?" Ichigo began, however he was never allowed to finish his sentence.
Light tore through the night sky. Blood, stark red, spattered onto the rooftops below. The top half of Leon's body was completely obliterated.
Ichigo flinched backwards and raised his blade in a defensive stance. His eyes darted around the area, attempting to place where the blast had come from.
"Tut tut tut…" muttered a voice, cutting through the darkness. "Loose lips sink ships."
Ichigo whirled around to see an elderly man with a burn scar across the right hand side of his face. He wore a white double-breasted military uniform and in his hand he held a quincy's bow. Reaching up to stroke his curly grey beard, he began to absent-mindedly hum to himself.
"As cities go, I've seen better," he mused. "Though Japanese architecture has never been a great love interest of mine."
"Who are you?" Ichigo shouted at him, tightening his stance.
The old man broke into a smile. "I am Sternritter F- Gillaume DaVinci." He raised his bow and pointed it at the orange-haired youth. "And it's my job to keep you occupied."