This chapter has been revised as of 10/2/18 for quality-of-reading improvements. Original (abridged) author's note:
This chapter fought me. I HATE writer's block. I had this great plan for this chapter, and then I just couldn't write it, so I ended up skipping around. Apologies for the delay; I wanted to have this up two days ago but it just didn't work out.
Chapter 11
I paced back and forth in my room, expression alternating between a scowl and a slightly darker scowl. The past two days had been hectic, made even more so by the attack by Hanza, the head assassin for the Kasumiōji. Or, more accurately, Kumoi, who was running the whole clan like some kind of aspiring puppet master. Rurichiyo had escaped during that time, going to what amounted to a farewell party for her friend. Luckily, Kumoi hadn't been able to make his move at that point and Rukia and I had brought Rurichiyo back to the World of the Living with little difficulty.
Of course, now most of the staff in the Kasumiōji compound didn't like me because I had broken into a restricted to try to stop the assassin-disguised-as-a-girl-through-methods-I-still-didn't-understand from stabbing Rurichiyo. Not that my trespassing had made a difference; Kenpachi had beat me to it. How the giant of a man had timed his arrival so perfectly was beyond me. The universe seemed inclined to put him in the path of violence.
If memory served, the next incident would be when Hanza attacked again with his three accomplices. This was an encounter I remembered vividly: my first real experience with my own trauma long before the war had shoved it all in my face. I had no idea what I was going to do about Hanzo's power; I could allow myself to get trapped in that weird Bakkōtō's mirror technique, but I really didn't want to. There were some experiences I couldn't endure twice over. Especially now.
The safest best would be to kick Hanza's ass and see if I could stop the guy from killing himself without suffering through the mirror technique...but that would open up an entirely new can of worms. I knew that Hanza didn't respect Rurichiyo. He didn't think she was a strong enough leader to head the Kasumiōji. That had been why he'd served Kumoi, but if I could make him understand that Rurichiyo was actually far stronger than she first appeared...
"Dammit, this is complicated!" I growled, knotting my hands in my hair and casting my gaze to the ceiling. "How the hell is anyone supposed to keep all that's happened straight in their head?"
"Ya seem like ya got a problem, King."
I do. I'm supposed to be from the future and have some kind of plan, or at least have my shit together.
I could hear laughter in my head and gritted my teeth.
"Ichigo, I've known ya since ya were born and there hasn't been a single damn time you've really had your shit together!"
Oh, shut up. It's not like you're helping me.
"Just kick his ass."
That wouldn't help anything.
"But it would be satisfyin' as hell."
They probably heard my sigh next door. I threw one arm over my face, shielding my eyes while I tried to think. It would be for the best if the fights played out as they had before; my friends had all gotten stronger because of them, though—
"Shit," I said, dropped my arm back to my side and sitting up straight. "They never went to Hueco Mundo!"
Which meant, of course, that Rukia, Chad, and Uryū weren't as strong as they were supposed to be in this timeline. Since that was the case, there was a chance they wouldn't have the skill set to handle their opponents. And if that happened, I would have serious trouble, especially since their opponents would have no problem killing them. I couldn't let that happen.
Movement on the floor abruptly reminded me of the room's other occupant. Kon looked up at me, black eyes reflecting the moonlight coming through my window. "Um, Ichigo? What are you talking about?"
"Nothing, Kon," I said, trying to be dismissive. "Just thinking to myself."
"About Hueco Mundo? Isn't that the place where hollows live? Why that?"
"I think I heard Kisuke mention it a while ago," I answered, trying to keep my evasive answers sounding like the lazy answers of a teenage boy. Kon bought it after a second and I let out a mental sigh of relief as the mod soul dropped the subject. Naturally, he found another one right away.
"Say, where's Rukia? I haven't seen her all night!"
"She's here," I said, raising an eyebrow. "She's in the room across the hall. Like always."
"Not always. Why isn't she staying in your closet again?" Kon complained. "She was closer!"
My face flushed red and I scowled. "Why would I have her in my closet again when there's a perfectly good room over there? That's just stupid, never mind rude."
"But Rukia—"
"It's not happening, you little pervert! I know you just want to look at her."
Kon pouted but didn't refute my accusation. "Fine. But where is she now? I wanted to fall into her loving, open arms!"
"Don't take that daydream any further," I warned, warily noting the perverted spark in Kon's eyes. "Anyway, you won't be able to do anything to her right now. She's off patrolling. That afro guy can only do so much—" my voice dropped to a mutter—"and he's kind of a weakling, anyway."
"When's she gonna be back?"
"I don't know. Stop whining."
"I'm not whining!"
"Stop pining."
"I'm not—wait, pining? What's that even mean?"
I ignored Kon's question. "Go wait for her or something if it bothers you so much. I've gotta go check something out."
"Where're you going? Ichigo, don't just leave!"
"Watch me," I said over my shoulder as I left my room.
Maybe Yoruichi would be around to help in case of an emergency.
"And that's how it is," I finished.
Yoruichi tilted her head slightly, one eyebrow going up while a smirk curled her lips. "What, you're finally asking for help, Ichigo? Couldn't you have waited just a little longer? I had a bet going with Kisuke."
I stared flatly at her for a solid few seconds, knowing about but unable to help the twitch in my eye.
The Flash Goddess let out a laugh, her eyes glittering. "Relax, Ichigo. Of course I'll help you, and I'm sure the kids would too." She paused, shooting me a considering look. "After this, do you want us to train them?"
I hesitated. My first response—the knee-jerk reaction pulled from my core that always came up when someone else could be in danger—was a solid, resounding no. I didn't want my friends getting into too much trouble. Soul Society was one thing, but with the threats getting worse and worse over time...
"If you say no, your friends will be put in greater danger."
"If they aren't strong, ya idiot, how will they fight? Think these things through!"
A sigh escaped my lips. That was the crux of it; if I tried to pretend like I could actually keep my friends out of trouble, they would get seriously hurt when trouble did find them.
I wanted to protect them. I wanted to keep them away from harm, out of the line of fire, whatever the hell came up. I wanted them safe, and happy, and blissfully ignorant of all the shit going down in the afterlife.
But that wasn't realistic.
Uryū was a Quincy, as much of a protector of the living as I was.
Chad and I had made a promise, and neither one of us was willing to break it.
Orihime, for her part, was determined to show her own strength. She'd never been able to stand aside if someone else was getting hurt.
There was simply no way for me to push them away, not when they would inevitably get dragged back in. Opponents in the future would probably figure out my connections with them and then use them as targets and hostages, and that would hurt worse than them fighting beside me.
In the end, I really only had one choice, and though it pained me, in my heart I knew it was the right one.
"Yeah," I said. "Please."
"Very well then." Yoruichi frowned, looking deep into my eyes, and I had to stifle the urge to shift uncomfortably. "Is something the matter, Ichigo? You look like you haven't been getting much sleep."
"I'm fine," I said with a shrug. Really, my nightmares had been making sleep almost impossible, but Yoruichi didn't need to know that. I'd gone longer without sleep, anyway. "Really, I am. I've just got a lot I need to do."
Going to Soul Society and getting this Kasumiōji business over with, for one.
Yoruichi didn't look convinced, but she was apparently willing to let it go for now. "If you say so. I'll keep an eye on your friends, and you can go do whatever it is that you've got planned."
The unasked question hung in the air.
"I'm going to Soul Society," I said after a beat. "I think I know how to resolve this issue without everything blowing up in my face. Kind of."
"Well, now you've sparked my interest. Just what are you planning?"
"I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough."
She raised an eyebrow. I relented. Somewhat.
"I'm going to find Kenpachi."
Realization dawned on Yoruichi's face. "I see." She leaned back. "Just...try not to destroy all of the Seireitei on your rampage, okay? There are still some places I like to visit there. Stay away from the Second Division barracks."
I gave a mock solute, grinning slightly. "You got it."
"Oh, Ichigo."
"Yeah?"
Yoruichi tilted her head a little, a strange expression crossing her face. "Kisuke already had me investigate the Kasumiōji. Once you do whatever it is that you're planning to do, I'm assuming you want the Gotei Thirteen to seal the deal, correct?"
"That would definitely help. I hadn't really thought that far."
She smirked, that strange expression gone without a trace. "Of course not. Well then, get a move on."
My sandaled feet were nearly silent against the wood floor when I landed, but the only other occupant of the large room looked up anyway, probably sensing my reiatsu, as suppressed as it was. Yamamoto was the Head Captain for a reason, after all.
"Ichigo Kurosaki," he rumbled, setting down his pen and getting to his feet, eyes trained on me. "What brings you to my office uninvited?"
I could hear the reprimand clearly and offered a shrug in apology. I couldn't exactly call ahead and say, "Yeah, so I have some knowledge from the future about the new captain who's gonna turn traitor in a day or two and try to kill Yamamoto to avenge his father so if you could just let me through that'd be great."
"I needed to warn you," I said simply.
Yamamoto's eyebrows drew together and his displeasure became even more obvious. "Warn me about what, boy?"
"Rude, ain't he?"
Shut up. I'm trying to be respectful and channel the other Zangetsu.
"Rude, aintcha?"
Shut up.
"Your newest captain has an ulterior motive," I explained, keeping my voice level and my expression clear. "Captain Amagai is planning on using the power of the Bakkōtō to avenge his father, Shin'etsu Kisaragi, by defeating you."
If Yamamoto's displeasure was obvious before, now it was suffocating. I struggled to keep my expression neutral in the face of it for a moment before Zangetsu reminded me that it was reiatsu I was feeling, not just the glare being leveled at me through almost-closed eyes. My own reiatsu rose and I could breath easy again.
"How do you know those names?"
I blinked. "I can't tell you that yet."
Yamamoto's cane slammed into the floor. The harsh noise reverberated about the room, punctuating the sudden, tense silence. I held out for almost five seconds before I relented. I needed Yamamoto to trust me, even if it meant revealing more than I wanted to.
"I can't tell you my exact sources," I said slowly. "You'll just have to trust that I'm telling the truth. I will say that I'm the only person who knows this information other than the pieces held by you and Captain Amagai. I have no intention of sharing it with anyone else. Once I tell you what I know, you're free to do what you like with it."
Yamamoto regarded me for a minute that seemed to stretch on for eternity. I found myself hoping that he would see the sense in not pressing for details. After an agonizingly long minute, Yamamoto's eyes slowly opened wide. They fixed on me and an involuntary chill ran down my spine. There was truly no way to describe the knowledge and power that emanated from his aura, so I didn't bother attempting to examine it and focused on meeting his gaze as evenly as possible.
"Ichigo Kurosaki, you come to my offices without forewarning or permission, bearing news of events you should have no knowledge of, while directing suspicion at the newest elected captain. Yet you refuse to provide where you obtained that information, and defer to my judgment with almost no explanation."
"Uh..." I scratched the back of my neck out of sheer nervous habit and dropped my arm immediately upon noticing that I was doing it. "Yeah, pretty much."
Yamamoto blinked—still so slowly, and for some reason I got the impression that, had the Head Captain been anyone else, he would've been heaving a great sigh.
"Am I correct in assuming that you have already made plans to counter the return of the Bakkōtō?"
"Yeah."
"Am I also correct in assuming that your plans are likely foolhardy and rash?"
"Y—wait, what?"
Yamamoto's eyes slid shut again. "You are still young."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't elaborate. Of course he didn't elaborate. What would be the fun in making sense?
"Do not cause unnecessary damage to my divisions," Yamamoto warned.
I thought about my plan—Kenpachi's bloodthirsty grin came to mind immediately—and decided that no, Yamamoto did not need to know the details until it was too late to stop me.
Then I frowned. "Hold on a second. You know about the Bakkōtō that the Kasumiōji are producing right now?"
"I am the Head Captain of the Gotei Thirteen and have been for hundreds of years. Nothing so large as an entire conspiracy can slip beneath my notice."
"Then why haven't you done anything? There's a little girl out there that's being targeted for assassination!"
"You are still too young."
"Don't say that like it's a reason not to explain it to me!"
"It is because I am the Head Captain that I cannot interfere in the affairs of the Noble Houses. If you have knowledge of Shin'etsu Kisaragi, then you should know that I made an attempt in the past and lost a seated officer as a result."
I swallowed.
My hollow zanpakutō's disdainful snort of "politics" summed up my feelings on the matter quite nicely.
Yamamoto sat back down, catching my attention once more. "I will take steps to prevent Captain Amagai from doing anything rash in his quest for revenge."
It was a dismissal, but also a message: I cannot interfere in the matters of the Kasumiōji, but, as a Substitute Shinigami, you're free to screw shit up.
Or something like that.
"One last thing," I said before leaving. "The third seat in that division's also got a Bakkōtō. That's enough evidence, right?"
I left before I actually had to explain anything, because explaining things sucked.
I'm starting to see why Kisuke avoids giving details.
"Understandin' Kisuke? Scary thought."
"Indeed."
I walked through the Seireitei, ignoring the looks of the nobles and Shinigami that I passed. My orange hair was pretty distinctive and after the events of Aizen's betrayal, I was a well-known figure in Soul Society and, though the stares were annoying, I wasn't willing to go through the effort of hiding my hair.
Still, if one more person came up to me to ask me questions, I was going to have difficulty keeping my annoyance in check.
Speaking of which, another Shinigami that clearly hadn't even achieved shikai was trailing me. I didn't even turn around, choosing instead to use shunpo to leave the more crowded areas. Once I was in the air, I looked around and squinted at the barracks that I could see. There was one compound in particular that I was looking for, one that should be plenty obvious.
I found the collection of buildings quickly enough and dropped down nearby, the sounds of combat reaching my ears before my feet touched the ground. I paused just outside the gates and raised an eyebrow at the sight of a bruised and battered Shinigami getting his ass handed to him by another Shinigami who looked equally bruised and battered. The first Shinigami finally fell, knocked unconscious by a powerful blow to his head. The second Shinigami shouted his triumph, only to be beset by another opponent a moment later.
"Yo, Ichigo!"
A bright flash of reflected light drew my attention to Ikkaku's shiny head and then to the man himself. "Hey, Ikkaku."
The warrior stopped a meter or so away. He moved like he didn't feel any of the cuts and bruises that decorated his skin. He had Hōzukimaru slung over his shoulders, looping his arms over the sheathed blade. He must have just won a fight, otherwise he wouldn't have broken off the battle to greet me. The Eleventh Division didn't work that way.
He cocked his head. "What're ya doing here, Ichigo? Not that I mind your being here, but you don't come around often."
"I came for a spar," I replied. Ikkoku laughed and took his sword off his shoulders.
"Man, I've been waitin' for way too long to hear you say those words."
I grinned at the way Ikkaku was preparing himself for the fight that wasn't going to happen. "Sorry, Ikkaku, but I'm not here to spar with you."
"Eh?"
"I want to fight Kenpachi."
The entire courtyard went silent a hundred Shinigami stopped their fights to stare at me in disbelief. I glanced past Ikkaku and saw every single member of the Eleventh Division that had been brawling was just looking at me, frozen in various (and a few ridiculous) combat poses. More than a few mouths were hanging open and in the sudden silence I could have heard a pin drop. Then the mutters came.
"H-he wants to challenge our captain?"
"Is he insane?"
"Quiet, you idiots!" Ikkaku snapped, instantly shutting up the two unseated Shinigami that had spoken. He turned back to me and grinned while relaxing his stance. "So that's how you want it, huh?"
"Yeah."
A sudden, looming presence abruptly filled the courtyard. Kenpachi Zaraki's voice drifted across the air, sending most of the unranked Shinigami into a mild panic. Their captain was not known for being kind, though they managed to keep it mostly together. Their strained composure probably came from experience.
"Hey, is that Ichigo's voice I'm hearin'? 'Cause it sure sounds like him. Ikkaku!"
Ikkaku straightened and turned to where his captain was stepping out of the barracks, Yachiru clinging to his shoulder and smiling brightly, a stark contrast to the menacing expression that almost always covered Kenpachi's face.
"Yes, Captain! Ichigo's here!" He glanced back at me, raising one eyebrow as Kenpachi approached. "What changed?"
I felt my respect for Ikkaku rise a little. He didn't bother asking, "are you sure?" or, "why are you doing this?" He simply asked what changed, and that was an entirely different question.
I grinned, reaching one hand up and cracking my neck. "Enough."
Ikkaku returned my grin with one that was even more bloodthirsty. "Nicely said. Fight well, you idiot."
"You should notify the Fourth in advance," I said mildly, stepping past Ikkaku and entering the Eleventh Division barracks proper. Ikkaku snorted.
"Why? Unless you think you're going to win or lose that quickly, 'course."
"Not for me or Kenpachi," I said, glancing at the trembling Shinigami that were no doubt feeling the killing intent permeating the air. "For them."
Realization and understanding dawned on Ikkaku, and he nodded. "Yeah, I'll be back. Yumichika! Where the hell are you?"
"So, you came out of hiding," Kenpachi said, walking up to me. He was still almost a head taller than me, but our heights were not nearly as different as they had been. And for some reason, I couldn't match up the Kenpachi from our first ever meeting with the one that was standing before me now; the intimidation and fear that had filled my mind during that first battle was gone now.
I no longer feared Kenpachi.
The realization brought a far more savage expression to my face and I drew my zanpakutō—but only the cleaver. This fight had a purpose, so I couldn't pull out both swords just yet. I was going to enjoy it, though. That was why my seal was still in place. I wanted a challenge.
"Who says I was hiding?" I asked, raising my reiatsu. Kenpachi began to smile, a dangerous fire burning in his visible eye.
"Heh. So you're not a complete wimp. That's good." His reiatsu rose as well and the stones near us began to crack.
"Th-this is going to get ugly," someone whispered, and almost as though the words were a signal, the nearby Shinigami cleared out. Ikkaku and Yumichika were already gone, but I knew they would be back in short order. Neither of them was willing to miss this fight.
"Considering I kicked your ass in our first fight, you're not the one who should be concerned about that."
"Liar. You're the one that got your ass kicked."
Shut up.
"Tch. Enough talk. Yachiru, go watch."
"You got it, Kenny!"
The bubbly and only slightly homicidal lieutenant hopped off her captain's shoulder and quickly took up observation from a relatively safe distance. Kenpachi glanced over at her to make sure she wouldn't be in the line of fire and then looked back at me, his grin firmly in place. And then, with blinding speed, he drew his zanpakutō and struck.
The shockwave produced when our swords met was enough to stagger the Shinigami still in the courtyard. Kenpachi's grin turned bloodthirsty when I matched his strength with no sign of fear.
We exchanged a lightning-quick volley of attacks, sparks flying and winds whipping with every glancing blow. Every strike that I was forced to block instead of deflect sent vibrations up my arm, but I ignored the strain and pushed back, stepping forward instead of backward.
"Good, good!" Kenpachi laughed, the power behind his sword swings increasing even more. I grinned in turn, ducking under a swipe and stepping past Kenpachi's guard, bringing my free hand back and throwing a jab at Kenpachi's stomach.
Kenpachi caught my fist, his grip almost crushing my fingers, and threw me hard enough that I was helpless for almost an entire second before I could move and slow myself down.
The captain was on me again in an instant, a manic light shining in his eyes, and I defended against attacks that left the wall I'd nearly crashed into nothing but rubble. My right arm was beginning to go numb so I reinforced it with reiatsu and pushed Kenpachi back, using the opportunity to jump over the remains of the wall.
Using the brief moment of respite, I called up a mental map of Seireitei and oriented myself, adjusting my feet slightly and angling my body in the direction I wanted to go.
When Kenpachi struck again, I let myself get pushed back, again and again, over and over.
Quickly realizing that I wasn't putting up a fight, Kenpachi switched tactics. He sprinted around me, sword aimed for my legs. When I jumped, he hit me hard in the chest, sending me flying.
I could hear my zanpakutō spirits commenting on Kenpachi's physical strength and tuned them out, knowing that I needed to focus. Kenpachi wouldn't be satisfied with an opponent that merely went with the flow of the fight and didn't actively try to change it. I needed to act, not just react.
Luckily, I was already almost a quarter of the way to my destination. Kenpachi had hit me pretty far before he realized what I was—or wasn't—doing.
"Come on, Ichigo! I know you're stronger than this!"
Kenpachi hurtled towards me with all the force of a speeding train and I had my sword up and legs braced before I even fully processed the manic grin decorating the captain's face. He slammed into me like a truck and I skidded back, pushing though some of the new rubble that our fight had created.
Another lightning-quick series of attacks, blocked and parried and deflected and countered, swords flashing in the light, bright enough to blind the unwary. Sword against sword—a contest of strength now, pushing against each other, grins on our faces and the thrum of adrenaline increasing my awareness tenfold. Muscles straining, blade steady against Kenpachi's, meeting and countering his incredible might.
Laughter—not from me, not yet, but from Kenpachi, from a man finding enjoyment in the adrenaline-fueled euphoria filling both of us.
I broke the contest of strength by driving my foot into Kenpachi's knee. There was no satisfying crack but it unbalanced him. In that brief opening, I darted forward, up, and around in a complex series of shunpo steps, moving so fast that I knew to the untrained eye I merely disappeared.
My blade arced, coming down viciously, only to be blocked by Kenpachi's sword. He'd switched to a reverse grip, and as I watched he removed his eye patch.
The abrupt release of so much reiatsu forced me back several yards, but in response, my own awareness rose, not forcing me into tunnel vision so much as tuning out the unimportant distractions. Onlookers faded from my notice, taking with them their comments and terrified expressions. Kenpachi and his sword took priority and in that moment I knew, with the strange clarity that I had only ever found in the midst of battle, that I had missed this.
Not the death, not the desperation, not the mindless hacking and slicing at innumerable hollows, but this. The challenge, the breath of fresh air, the complete immersion into a battle that left me clearheaded and almost giddy from a potent mix of bloodlust and savagery; nothing could ever compare.
I nearly forgot what I had begun this fight for.
And still the fight continued. As it wore on I found myself sinking into it more and more, losing a piece of myself in the process—no, trading a piece of myself for another. Time slowed to a crawl. I saw Kenpachi's strikes long before he made them, reacting with demonic speed and scoring several cuts and slashes on the captain for my efforts.
He was saying something, but I had automatically deemed it irrelevant after the first word and though I said something in return, I could not recall it even a moment later.
Time shifted again, now following my heartbeat, letting me pull the strings of the fight with every pulse of life in my veins. Zangetsu was no longer a sword in my hand; there was no point at which my limb stopped and the sword began. Our communication was instant and wordless, his edge never dulled even for a split second.
Now pushing Kenpachi back, through another division's grounds, not even paying enough attention to do any more than orient myself. The background was just that, little more than shadows and muted noises.
My blade caught in his palm—he didn't even seem to care that his hand oozed crimson—almost yanked from my grasp but I rode the momentum, kicking him hard in the stomach and successfully freeing my weapon. He crashed through several walls and I gave chase, left hand twitching and inching towards the second blade sheathed at my waist of its own volition.
I didn't draw it. Not yet, just a little longer. Patience.
Kenpachi's sword bit at my legs and I leaped over it, bringing Zangetsu down on the back of his head. He tilted his head just enough to avoid being decapitated and we locked swords again, me in mid air and him planted firmly on the ground, as unshakeable as a mountain.
A memory—
A hollow, tall enough to dwarf Jidanbō, its fist bearing down on me—
Back to the present, Kenpachi's fist heading for my stomach and a split second decision forcing me down to his level, sword coming up to block the follow-up and other blade drawn in sheer reflex, darting out, a snake striking, but Kenpachi twisted out of the way and it went through his haori instead of his flesh, tearing the white fabric.
Kenpachi grabbed my wrist and twisted, hurling me through the air for the third time. I crashed through a wall before stopping in front of a building, the dust and mortar and brick raining down. It did nothing to slow the battle and one of the falling bricks was bisected by my sword and Kenpachi's as we clashed again, the shockwave instantly clearing the air but destabilizing the entire building.
It began to collapse and I darted among the falling debris, using my environment and kicking falling objects at Kenpachi while also darting in to strike at his unprotected weak points—
Except he wasn't relying on vision, or hearing, or any other sense besides touch in that moment and at the very last second, right as the edge of my sword touched his skin, he twisted, ignoring the shallow cut and forcing me on the defensive for nearly ten seconds.
But my heart was still pumping a staccato rhythm in my chest and I reached for the mindset I knew I still had even after months without stepping foot in Hueco Mundo.
The world seemed to grow cold as my body numbed, the aches and strange tingling in my fingers and arms fading out of my awareness. My stance shifted almost imperceptibly but now I could move. The weight was gone, my fatigue a distant memory. The world wouldn't blur because everything was in such clear, crystal focus, so sharp it was almost painful.
And I did move, darting forward and slicing Kenpachi across the chest, then his back, then his forearm, leg, shoulder, hand, moving so dizzyingly quickly that my mind stretched and pounded from the strain of keeping it all straight.
But it was perfect. Zangetsu laughed like a madman, his ecstasy my own, and even his Quincy half thrummed with pleasure because they made up my swords, two perfect blades that cut the very air they passed through.
This, this, this. How could I ever have forgotten this feeling, this rush? So exhilarating, almost intoxicating, bringing me ever closer to the brink of—
Screams, tearing through the air and my chest, snapping me out of my daze and drawing my attention to the firestorm that had erupted meters away and incinerated several Shinigami, leaving many more with horrific burns.
The smell of cooking flesh invading my nose, overriding my other senses and throwing off my rhythm, the injured cries jarring me out of focus. A hundred burning eyes fixing on me, crying for the hero who couldn't save them—
Reality hit me hard and my focus shattered like glass, the shards scattering in different directions, cutting me in the process, my speed and coordination and balance disappearing in an instant.
I crashed to the ground, disoriented and for some reason feeling an aching sense of loss in my chest. My fingers scrabbled in the torn-up walkway for my weapons, our connection now as disjointed as my thoughts, but old instincts died hard and I still had enough presence of mind to bring my swords up in a sloppy block that only barely stopped Kenpachi's overhead swing.
The captain didn't even seem to care that his clothes and skin were soaked with blood from the wounds he'd already received. If anything, he seemed happy, still stuck in the euphoria I'd just abandoned.
Then again, I doubted he was stuck in any negative sense of the word. Kenpachi reveled in fighting; it was how he lived. It was his entertainment, his relaxation, his stress relief—it was his life, and would likely be his death. He knew how to handle his battle lust, turn it into a weapon sharper than even his sword, and wield it with all the deadly efficiency of a master.
And, these days, all I could do was experience for a brief moment—snatch it, really, before my mind could conjure up all the reasons I shouldn't—before the spell broke and hurled me from that place, that separate plane of reality that so very few ever reached.
It was drifting farther and farther from my grasp with every passing day.
During the war it had been a constant state of mind for me; allies had been little more than shadows, patches of brief awareness while I focused on cutting down hollow after hollow, each one stronger than the last, until exhaustion worked its way into my bones and I had no choice but to drop back or risk dying, and only then had I dared to leave that state, when I was sure my allies were safe and we could relax as much as soldiers could in the middle of a war.
Kenpachi's foot caught me in the stomach and catapulted me through another wall, and then another, until a third forced me to think and then finally stop, panting, my body aching from the sudden use of a speed I hadn't properly worked up to. My right leg felt close to snapping, and my left was strangely numb.
The pain would go away soon; instant regeneration was already working on the worst of the muscle damage and would be finished within the time it took Kenpachi to reach me again.
But the pain wasn't the main problem. I needed to step up my training; already my skill level was regressing, whether from lack of practice or other reasons I didn't know I wasn't sure, but no matter the reason, the regression couldn't be allowed to continue. There was no telling what dangers lurked on the horizon and I would not be caught flat-footed.
Funny how ten minutes of battle could be so helpful.
Kenpachi was there again and I blocked his overhead strike, retaliating with a stab to his stomach that he hit away with his free hand. He took advantage of my opened defense with a punch, but Blut Vene was running beneath my skin and I barely felt the blow. My leg came up, my knee hitting Kenpachi's extended arm right in the elbow and bending it in all the wrong ways, producing an ugly snapping sound. The arm fell, limp and useless, but Kenpachi carried on unfazed.
His sword whipped around and I deflected the strike to my side, parried the one to my legs and ducked the one to my head, feeling it take a few hairs as compensation for missing my skull.
My cleaver hit his sword again and my smaller blade snuck through his guard, but Kenpachi was known as a monster for a reason and he twisted at the very last moment, sacrificing the bicep on his already useless arm. He twisted again, my blade digging and turning in his flesh but oddly stuck, and retaliated with a dizzying series of attacks that didn't reflect the fact that he had a sword stuck in his arm at all.
I defended as best I could with my arm in such an awkward position, only to let go of the sword and leap back when Kenpachi's reiatsu skyrocketed again, because if I hadn't he probably would've been able to cut through my hierro.
That, and I wasn't about to risk my arm, Hierro or no. I'd never liked gambling, and Kenpachi's strength varied just as much as my own, depending on the situation.
Kenpachi paused for just long enough to yank my trench blade out of his arm and then toss it to me. The wound spurted blood but Kenpachi didn't seem to notice or care.
I caught the blade, raised one eyebrow. Kenpachi shrugged.
"It's no fun if you're down a sword."
"I was holding my own with just one sword a little while ago," I pointed out, but it was a half-assed defense. Kenpachi's snort only made it more obvious.
So I held onto the blade.
In the brief lull, I glanced around, taking note of the Shinigami that were peeking out from between buildings and on top of roofs. I wasn't sure if they were trying to be stealthy or simply trying to avoid being injured, but either way it was strange. I wasn't used to fighting with an audience. I glimpsed a shining head and a bright feather among the assembled Shinigami.
Kenpachi shifted his weight, and my focus narrowed back to the task at hand.
He charged forward and I caught his downward swing on my crossed blades, pushing back and breaking his momentum while spinning under his retaliatory strike to open up a shallow cut across his stomach. Kenpachi barely reacted to his most recent injury and brought his sword down again, so I used shunpo to avoid the attack and stopped in the air behind him, blade going for the back of his neck.
Kenpachi dodged, spun, and aimed a punch at my stomach with the arm that should've been unusable. I caught it on my sword and flew back a few meters, only for Kenpachi to catch up and reach out to grab my foot, fingers extended around the grip of his sword. Apparently his injured arm was a hindrance, whether he was actively showing it or not.
I yanked my limb out of his reach and substituted it with my cleaver, nearly taking off the captain's hand.
He has to be using reiatsu to reinforce the limb, or he'd never be able to do that.
Whispered comments and mutterings invaded my focus and I shut them out with a scowl. The audience was getting really annoying. Time to change locations.
I faced Kenpachi head-on and we exchanged blows, swords blurring with speed while sparks flew in the disturbed air every time our zanpakutō met. The audience rapidly thinned as lower-ranked Shinigami passed out from the reiatsu weighing down the atmosphere while even the seated officers struggled for air.
Seeing an opening when Kenpachi's blade went slightly too wide for his next attack, I swept through his guard, dropped my cleaver, and then braced myself, using my newly-freed right hand to grab Kenpachi's torn-up Shihakushō and hurl the giant man into the air, sending him skyrocketing over the buildings we'd been about to destroy.
Then I grabbed my cleaver before it even had a chance to hit the ground and took off after Kenpachi, the winds whipping at my face, cooling the sweat streaking my skin.
Hopefully, the audience wouldn't be able to follow. Of course, now I'd have to deal with a far more persistent group: the guards.
I'd burn that bridge when I got to it.
Touching down near the crater that Kenpachi's return to solid ground had made, I glanced around, searching for the directionally challenged captain. Distantly, I sensed Yachiru's reiatsu approaching at an alarming speed, and guessed that she was simply following the action, as she was prone to doing.
Kenpachi abruptly burst out of a nearby patch of bushes—why he had been searching in them, I didn't know—and we exchanged strikes once again. Only now, I wasn't aiming for smooth deflection. I wanted destruction, preferably before the guards showed up to interfere.
Kenpachi struck and I flew through a gate that looked expensive, hearing it crack and tear from its hinges while I recovered and defended from Kenpachi's next attack. The ground cratered around us, but I needed more, so I leaped back, charged my swords with energy, and then cut the air in a cross shape.
"Getsuga Jūjishō," I said simply, and the energy cross roared to life and obliterated the ground Kenpachi stood upon, throwing up a cloud of dust and making it difficult to see.
I dropped back down to the ground, easily locating Kenpachi through the dust. The captain was unbothered by the new obstacle, his grin still going strong, and even when I began pushing him back his incredible all-offense-no-defense swordplay never once faltered. His incapacitated arm hardly seemed to be a problem for him.
I had an advantage with two blades, further bolstered by my experience and natural ability. But my reiatsu reserves were feeling the strain and, if anything, the challenge only made Kenpachi happier. If it was happiness that he was feeling, anyway. I couldn't tell, not with his grin stuck somewhere between manic and insane.
I ducked under his latest swing and then dove to one side to avoid the next, rolling and popping back to my feet just in time for Kenpachi's next attack to send me flying into the nearest building.
The impact knocked the breath out of my lungs, stunning me, but I still got my swords up to stop Kenpachi's follow-up. I dragged air into my burning lungs and countered every blow of Kenpachi's wild assault.
Now I mixed in more energy attacks, releasing heavily scaled down versions of Getsuga Tenshō into my regular sword swings to make them that much more destructive. I managed to switch positions with Kenpachi after a few seconds so that he was the one with his back to the building—
Which became a non-issue when I brought the wall tumbling down with a series of "accidental" missed swings.
Kenpachi was hardly buried for more than a second before he was on me again, and I continued to hold him off, causing even more damage in the process.
After almost half a minute more he caught me with a sudden kick, sending me flying towards another building. I caught myself and retaliated, but Kenpachi was ready—
"He adapted to your style of combat remarkably quickly."
"Dude's scary good in a fight, I'll give 'im that."
He grabbed my ankle, just as he had tried and failed to do earlier, and hurled me into the surrounding trees. I felt several trunks give beneath me and shattered bark and leaves rained down. I'd probably gotten into sight of some of the residents, because people were screaming now, shrill noises that were somehow easier to block out than the curious stares of onlookers.
When our swords locked again the ground beneath us trembled, cracking slightly under the pressure. The air around us grew distorted, red-tinged black and golden reiatsu flickering into visibility every few seconds.
"ENOUGH! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW, YOU HOOLIGANS! Just what do you think you're doing on noble property?!"
The guy sounded important, and used his voice with just the right amount of force to gain respect and obedience. With something much more important to focus on, Kenpachi and I studiously ignored him and continued hacking at each other, though with a bit more grace than the naked eye could perceive.
These were probably nice grounds before Kenpachi and I arrived.
The thought popped out of nowhere and I struggled not to smile at it.
"Oi, you missed that expensive looking fountain over—"
"Getsuga Tenshō!"
"Never mind. Nice shot."
Thanks. You just never know where those conspiracies might be hiding.
"STOP THIS!"
Whoever was shouting now sounded rather shrill. Kenpachi and I continued to ignore him, and I redirected the fight back to the large, elegant building buried in the back of the property, nearly—but not quite—hidden by trees. A barrier surrounded it, though the golden column looked as though it had seen better days. A massive crack ran through it and sections looked moments from collapsing. One more hit to the crack I'd created earlier with a wayward Getsuga Tenshō would send the entire thing crashing down.
If I struck it, it was likely that I'd gain the ire of the Kasumiōji even more than I already had by bringing Kenpachi down on their heads. If Kenpachi brought the wall down, well, they couldn't really do much. If the guy wasn't a captain he'd be causing even more trouble, and there wasn't much that the Gotei Thirteen could do to punish him.
Kenpachi it was, then.
Putting my back to the failing barrier, I blocked Kenpachi's slash, countered with a sharp jab with my smaller trench knife, and then ducked when he retaliated with a thrust strong enough to—conveniently enough—destroy a Royal-Family-gifted Bakudō barrier.
The entire thing glowed brilliantly for a few seconds, blinding anyone dumb enough to keep staring, and then shattered, the pieces disappearing even as they fell to the ground.
Taking advantage of the time it would take for Kenpachi's eyes to adjust, I kicked his knee as hard as I could and then jumped back, putting my back to the door of the building.
One more. Come on, Kenpachi.
The Eleventh Division captain glanced down at his knee, which was bent at a sickening angle and looked incredibly painful. Then he scowled and walked towards me, limping only as much as his injury necessitated—or even less than that.
Does he even have a pain threshold?
"Doubt it."
Kenpachi charged forward again and I dove to one side, watching his sword demolish the wall with ease.
I used shunpo to get out of the range of the falling wall, watching in satisfaction as Kenpachi was buried. The guy's expression before the dust made it impossible to see was almost bored, like he'd just decided that the wall falling on him was more of an inconvenience than anything else.
"WHAT ARE YOU FOOLS DOING?"
I finally turned and acknowledged the guy that had been yelling at us for the past few minutes. He moved remarkably fast, considering that our fight had been bouncing around the Kasumiōji grounds ever since I hurled Kenpachi into the middle of this place.
Time to play the clueless teenager.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, resting my cleaver over one shoulder in what was probably an intimidating position, if the man's paling face was anything to go by.
"Y-you cannot fight on noble grounds! Do you have any idea how much trouble you have caused with your barbaric deeds?"
I blinked. "Trouble? Noble grounds?"
Sounds from behind me alerted me to the fact that Kenpachi was getting out of the rubble and I glanced at him. The aura of battle had disappeared, and Kenpachi knew it just as well as I did, so neither of us made a move to continue fighting.
"Oi, Kenpachi, did you know that this was a noble's place?" I questioned, for all the world looking like an oblivious rookie Shinigami.
The effect was instantaneous. The nearby guards drew back, fear in their eyes. We'd been moving too quickly for them to recognize the him earlier, but now that Kenpachi was more or less standing still, his identity was obvious.
"K-K-K-Kenpachi?" The shrill man stuttered.
The captain spat in the rubble and rubbed his mouth, smearing the blood on his face and successfully making himself look positively demonic even without the grin on his face. "Eh? The hell are you talkin' about, Ichigo?"
This was too easy. "Well, this guy over here was saying that we've caused some trouble for the—"
"No!" The man interrupted. "It's fine! Really! No worries at all! We'll forget this ever happened if you would kindly leave immediately!"
"Really?" I looked back at him and grinned as insincerely as I could manage. "That's good. Unfortunately—"
Black-robed Shinigami abruptly appeared in a loose ring around us, zanpakutō drawn and ready. Yoruichi appeared right next to me, a grin on her face, Suì-Fēng only a split second behind her.
"We won't be going anywhere," I finished.
Watching the Shinigami mop up the mess the Kasumiōji conspiracy had made wasn't all that entertaining, but I had little else to do and if I stepped off the grounds, Kenpachi would demand we finish our fight. Considering how our fight had pretty much wiped me out, I wasn't too eager to do that. If we fought again so soon, I would need to release the seal. I didn't want to know how Kenpachi would react to finding out that he'd been fighting me while I had most of my power sealed. Plus, Yamamoto would kill me if he wasn't already planning on it. After all, Kenpachi and I had created a path of destruction across Seireitei during our fight earlier, and any more damage would just be rubbing salt in the wound.
Yeah, sticking around the Kasumiōji place was the safest bet.
"Your plan worked, but I have a question, Ichigo."
My zanpakutō spirit's tone was somewhat reproachful and I had a good guess as to what was coming.
Yeah?
"Why didn't you simply capture third seat Kibune and use his weapon as evidence? He would have given up the information if interrogated."
I blinked, then grinned crookedly and stretched.
Ah, what's the fun in that?
"Ichigo!"
"Hey, Rukia," I greeted, seeing the petite Shinigami running up to me. "What's up?"
"What's up?" she repeated. "Are you insane? Why would you fight Captain Zaraki? Do you have a death wish?"
"I'm not dead yet," I pointed out easily. She frowned at me, then glanced around.
"What were you doing fighting here, of all places?" Her eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious. "Were you—?"
"Some things are best left unasked," I said. Seeing her expression, I softened my tone. "It's fine, Rukia, honest."
She was silent for a few seconds and the tension in the air dissipated.
"It's fine?" Or not. "It's fine?" Her fist was shaking and she pointed an accusing finger at our surroundings. "How is this fine, you numbskull? How are you going to explain this to Kenryū and Enryū, much less Rurichiyo?"
I looked at the smoking buildings now being swarmed by black-clothed Shinigami, the torn-up grounds that would take weeks to properly fix, the broken trees, the rubble that had probably been paths and artful décor, and then shifted my gaze to the icy-eyed Rukia. She glared hard at me, probably coming up with a ten-page list of all the rules I'd just violated in her mind while she prepared to tear me to shreds.
So, just to see if I could up that list to eleven pages, I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could manage and said, with no hint of apology in my voice,
"My bad."
[edited original A/N] Good practice for writing long fight scenes. Anyway, this is a crappy chapter to end on for the next few months [read: years], but I didn't have much choice. Yeah, I'm going on hiatus; I've got a lot of stuff I need to do, so writing's gonna take a back seat. I will be back, though, and my profile will hopefully have updates and news for those of you that get curious.
I don't know when I'll be back.
Please review.
