Title: New Divide
Category: Bleach and D. Gray-man
Rating: T
Pairing: N/A
Summary: With time, things change. People change. In the past, Allen Walker fell with the Millennium Earl. In the present, trials begin for those living. In the future, Soul Society faces the greatest threat to them ever yet. —"My name is Sosuke Aizen."—
(Chapter edited 21-04-2011)
—
New Divide
- Chapter One -
…and the Strawberry (or carrot-top, in our case).
—
Kurosaki Ichigo was one very, very, very pissed off...Shinigami, was it?
Heck, he wouldn't remember. It wasn't as if he cared anyway. After all, Soul Society had kidnapped Rukia (how a person can be kidnapped when being taken back to their home he didn't know either) and...uh...to be honest, he didn't know what they'd do to her anyway.
He hoped she wouldn't die because of him.
Actually, he'd woken up a few days ago. In that random shopkeeper guy's house, somehow under his assistant.
He swore that Fate liked playing tricks on him.
But, now, facing the freaky forever-smiling face that promised him that he could get back his powers...well, to say the least, he'd thought it couldn't get any worse.
It was suddenly funny, though, when Urahara pulled out from nowhere his giant, allegedly made-in-one-night underground training ground and two wooden practice swords. They were longswords, like a katana so as to resemble his soul cutter yet not be the giant thing at the same time (in fact, compared to his these were toothpicks).
And now he had to fight this white-haired kid that was younger than him (or so it'd seemed)and make sure he could get in a hit.
Oh, and Urahara had apparently just-so-conveniently forgotten to tell him before they started that the kid was a professional.
Which explained why he was currently getting his ass handed to him on a platter.
Forget Fate playing tricks, she and Lady Luck were out drinking again.
He didn't know how long he spent trying to drive away thoughts of how he was going to die (again) and how his body was just lying there and how the hell he was supposed to do anything...oh, and how he was seriously, seriously screwed?
Sometimes, Kurosaki Ichigo just hated life.
After being given at least twenty-nine (metaphorical) heart attacks and nearly on the edge of cardiac arrest (real this time), Ichigo was just glad that that was all over and done with. Getting your soul chain cut and having to climb out a giant big pit while bound and then trying to knock the stupid hat-guy's stupid hat off (hah, he has hat hair!) wasn't really in the description when he signed up. Oh, and can't forget the fact that he nearly died twenty-seven times through in all three challenges...yes, he definitely counted each and every near-death experience he underwent in there.
Well damn, that sucked. Everything did, actually.
So when he heard that he could finally go to save Rukia, he was just hoping that going through all this random crap was worth it.
Actually, he probably just wanted to give that Kuchiki (Rukia's brother, what's-his-name-with-the-girly-face) a little piece of his mind. And that Kanda, yeah.
Damn, that Kanda pissed him off.
He didn't know why, but there was something about him. Maybe it was that odd sword he had by his waist, something that looked like it was meant to be a straight-sword but looked more like a deformed stick with that dark cross-emblazoned hilt and no guard. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, all straight-backed and the only person there with a higher chin then his being his captain. Maybe it was that girly hairdo which rivalled said captain's in stupidity.
Or maybe it was because he immediately called him 'ninjin-topu' on first sight.
Come on! He was not a carrot top, and he didn't know why people called him that. It wasn't exactly his fault that his hair was naturally born bright neon orange. And idiots aplenty thought it was bleached. He didn't even like bleach, never did. It smelt funny, looked funny and did funny things to people.
Heck, he didn't know why people'd even name something the word 'bleach' in the first place. It was stupid, and whoever did that would have to have been a bigger idiot than that Shinigami himself.
Whatever.
On second thoughts, Soul Society wasn't too bad.
It still kinda sucked, though.
That gatekeeper – Jidanbou, was it? – was a piece of cake to defeat and gain access into the Seireitei (after all, constantly fighting against the white-haired kid over and over again made you learn things), but that stupid guy hiding behind and freaking waiting for them with a bigger, more permanent smile than the hat-dude went and kicked him out. Literally, almost.
Yoruichi didn't really help either: "That's a captain you're fighting, idiot strawberry! It's better if we retreat and think of a tactical stratagem before we get in!"
Really, tactical stratagems weren't his forte. Plus, where'd they find that paper to use anyway?
Then some time later, the random Shiba Kukaku seemed to bring her cannon out from nowhere and launch them into Seireitei. Forcibly.
With Lady Luck against him, as per usual, all of them ended up separated. And the even better thing – he landed face-flat on the ground in possibly the worst position in the world when that Allen Walker landed on his feet. Gracefully.
…It was official: everyone freaking hated him.
And to make it worse, two random other Shinigami found them not a moment later.
The two made the best group in the world – a baldy with the shiniest head he had ever seen and an eccentric narcissist who kept going on and on and on about beauty. The narcissist, introducing himself as Yumichika Ayasegawa, was probably the most effeminate person that ever existed.
Yeah, he had it all. Hair, check. Eyes that are supposed to be pretty (but weren't), check. Glossy lips, check. Purple/pink/girly colours/whatever…oh his sword, check.
The other person was just as strange. One baldy, apparently by the name of Ikakku Madarame. Strange red markings on the side of his eyes, lots and lots of rippling muscles…were those imprints of teeth marks on his head?
And he fought the baldy, too. Right now…he honestly couldn't remember why he started the fight. Huh. Didn't it have something to do with intruding…he didn't care. Sometime before though, Walker disappeared with the girly dude for their own fight.
But now that he thought about it, why did that white-haired guy come along with him anyway? It wasn't as if he needed to be there, he just tagged along without any further explanation on why the hell he was with them.
No one else seemed to notice he was there, though. No one talked to him, or addressed him, or made any action to show that he existed. Heck, not even cheerful bubbly too-happily-oblivious-for-my-own-good Inoue talked to him. It was like he was there, but he wasn't.
Not that he cared. If Walker wanted to talk to him or whatever, it wasn't his business. If he wanted to pretend and not exist, who was he to interrupt?
He ducked the throw of Madarame's now-three part stick as it swung past his head dangerously before launching in with his shiny new zanpakuto.
Yes; no time for thinking, no time for playing.
Oh that guy was going down.
It was chaos.
Kurosaki Ichigo ran around and through the streets of Seireitei, leaving a trail of twitching and unconscious bodies of poor, unseated Soul Reapers and knocking down each and every new one that dared to come in his way.
"Walker! Damn it, where the hell are you? Just give me a signal or something!"
It was chaos.
Okay, so he would admit that screaming his words out in a tone loud enough that every single person, creature or thing could hear him within five hundred metres might have been overkill and a bit towards the idiotic side, but he didn't care. They were flies in his mind.
Truth be told, he didn't know why he was looking for the kid anyway. Somewhere inside of him though was this niggling feeling of responsibility that told, no, commanded him to find him and make sure he was safe.
He groaned. All this running and mindless violence wasted far too much energy, and he just needed to take a break. Finding a nearby wall, he rested his head upon it, using his arm as a makeshift cushion. Then he groaned again.
But really, why him? Why was he chosen by that Hollow to target, meaning his family was in danger, meaning that Rukia needed to go save his ass, meaning that he got her powers? No, actually – why did he happen to have such an exponentially large reiatsu?
Unconsciously, he released his spirit power further and felt a few poor shinigami that were trying to sneak up on him fall down from the force. Irritably, he retracted it and slammed his fist against the wall, releasing all his bottled-up feelings.
The wall broke.
Fighting the urge to facefault, he looked at the street beyond. He saw a mop of familiar white hair staring at him with an unreadable expression on that face.
"Walk –"
Then Ichigo noticed what the other was doing.
It turned out that some poor shinigami were also going after him, and by the looks of their remains, more than they went after him. He winced on behalf of the poor guy Walker locked the arm of, and then the sound of cracking and dislocating bone.
It just went to show; even though Walker had a smaller spiritual presence than he, he was less lenient.
"This way."
He headed off in another direction, not looking back to see if Ichigo followed or not. Actually, he spluttered incomprehensibly before following the other's even pace.
At the next intersection, he saw Walker stop abruptly, almost crashing into him. He was about to open his mouth to ask why, but it was then he noticed what the other had before – spiritual presences around them indicating they were surrounded.
"Stop hiding and come out, cowards." Walker intoned expressionlessly.
Suddenly the light-coloured walls became dark as shinigami appeared before them flashes of black fabric. None of them looked pleased at his companion's statement, and grumbled angrily amongst themselves.
"Coward?" One spat. "You're the coward if you think we have to hide!"
The grumbles rose in intensity and became shouts of agreement and bellows of challenge. Flashes of metal shone light towards them all at once, as they pulled out their weapons in expectation.
"Excuse me…" he heard a timid voice say suddenly, and a small figure pushed itself through the crowd and before them. He (she? it?) promptly tripped as one of the men stuck their feet out and laughed in the humour that they somehow saw in that blatant act of bullying.
Before he could even register what had happened, Walker was facing him, whispering orders and the kid was in his arms. He must've caught him before he landed on the ground and brought him back, by the lack of markings on his face.
Heck, he was quick.
"Take him, and go. I'll take care of these fools." He opened his mouth to interrupt, but was silenced with a glare. "Don't. I'll do it without unnecessary bloodshed." Walker turned to face the kid in his arms. "What are your credentials, Fourth Division member?"
The boy trembled. "H-Ha-Hanatarou Ya-Yamada, Seventh Seat of the Fourth Division, s-sir."
He nodded, apparently satisfied. "Go; lead the idiot to the nearest maintenance entrance around the corner of mizuryuu-juukyuu. I'll see you there."
None of the conversation made any sense to Ichigo, who couldn't make heads or tails of it, but he knew they were getting away and into a hiding spot. He ignored Hanatarou for the moment to look back at Walker, who unsheathed his sword.
Walker smiled, the end of his katana shifting to form two prongs like the tongue of a snake, and the tsuka-hilt changing into what looked like four wings. The shinigami now stared wide-eyed, and some looked like they wanted to run in direct contradiction to their earlier words. They had all collapsed with their knees to the ground, however, so that would have been impossible even if they had tried.
On his back, Hanatarou shivered.
He didn't know why, but he had the feeling that he was supposed to be very afraid of the sudden increase of Walker's spiritual pressure. It wasn't as high as Ichigo's constant, but since the other could suppress it and control it to almost non-existence made knowing his normal drip or maximum potential near impossible.
In response, his instinct told him one thing.
Run, run, run!
He turned to leave and barely heard Hanatarou's trembling directions to the location specified earlier. He followed it and managed to get quite a distance away before the pressure lifted, but Walker's last word rang in his ears and his head as the remaining effects in his mind and his instincts refused to calm down.
He didn't look back.
Allen smiled. He readied his blade and allowed the faux steel to take in the light - light that would soon blind each and every man there.
"Bankai."