Darn. Didn't expect having to split the massive battle into two chapters, but…I hope it is to your liking, all the same. Reviews are appreciated, as always, for I like your opinions. I may take some time off, but I'm not sure, but please enjoy yourselves.
Disclaimer: BLEACH! Is not mine. Canopus is mine. Don't use without my permission.
Now, let the story recommence…
--
Chapter 11: The Lion and the Unicorn, Part 2
August 12th, early afternoon…
Takumi looked up, his head flinching in pain, as he sat in his meditative position on the steps of the Mashiba first bank. Though he was born with only two eyes (and the pink-hair certainly was not a product of his parents) his abilities allowed him to keep tract of the battle, and he saw, depending upon where he looked…mixed results. Simultaneously, his forces were winning…and losing. One front was clearly in domination, while the other side was drastically slipping out of his hand. The crunching pains of his head told the tale, as he struggled to hold the illusion, to make everyone able to see nothing but normality.
It was extremely painful, to retain his concentration on his illusion, and feel the vanishing lightning bolts that pierced his head at the same time. Ortiz was alive, this much he knew: He had yet to find anything that could remotely stop the mechanical giant. At the same time, however, Ortiz had waded far away from him, and his place next to the human-sized black box, in the midst of his melee. That left him alone, forced to remain in deep concentration over the mental illusion, and unable to mount a defense. He would not risk exposing the mainstream commoners to the devastation around them. His hypnosis restrained them from panic, and he would let them wonder once they were gone.
Sweat built on his brow, and he keeled over suddenly, his stance almost breaking, as he felt another lightning bolt to his head. A life, destroyed by the edge of a soul reaper. He coughed suddenly, his pink locks falling over his face, and his body chilled as ice from the realization.
"So…Sum Mannus, Garm, and Oracion…they're all dead…May their spirits find…" Takumi did not finish his retort, as he fell into a coughing fit, his spell almost shattering. Hanataro Yamada, standing by, noticed the turn-out, and instinctively reached for his handbag. He stopped only when he realized he was aiding the enemy.
"…huh…huh…may their spirits…find solace in the other dimension…" Takumi finished, breathing heavy.
"Uh…are you okay?" Hanataro meekly asked.
"I have my pains…it is my burden…I've chosen my side, with my brother. You are with the companies. Oh damn…Tamuzu's gonna kill me…"
"Not if we do first." A curt voice fringing to being-pissed off interrupted. The pink-haired youth looked up, to see Yumichika Ayasegawa, Rangiku Matsumoto, and Uryu Ishida, looming over him. In each of their hands was some sort of weapon in addition to their own. A rapier in the hands of Ayasegawa, A club in the hand of Ishida, and a bastard sword in the hand of Matsumoto.
"Ah…so you kill them, and take their weapons? That's banditry, is it not?"
"That's rich coming from you, Soul Reaper." Ishida said, dropping the club and now pointing his bow at his face. Takumi only smiled weakly.
"I have a conscious, and so I can weep for my comrades like you do. Is that so wrong? And I'm not a soul reaper. I am as living as you." Takumi sighed, as if burdening a sadness. "Tell me, Ishida, have you killed a living being before?"
"What does it matter?"
"Because I see in your eyes the same look my brother gives everyone. Please be careful, Mr. Ishida. You may become a mass murderer. My brother won't let me kill anyone, for fear of being like him."
Matsumoto lowered her zan-pakuto at the pink-flocked neck of Takumi.
"If you surrender, I'll let you live, and arrest you."
"For what? I'm not a hollow, ryoka, or fellow reaper. Ah…you want me to go with you to help Captain Hitsugaya. He's still cut from his powers, and you think he will benefit from my information…" Takumi spoke assuredly and knowingly, as if reciting a theory from his head. He cast his eyes upward, seeing the mild surprise on their faces. "Don't be surprised, Miss Rangiku Matsumoto. It is simply my ability to know things that others do. However, I confess I would be of little help to you."
"And why is that?" Matsumoto asked.
"There are three reasons. First, Captain Hitsugaya lost his powers to Janus Bloodswerth, not me. Only Janus truly knows how his own powers work. Second, you could capture me, but, and I do not mean to be gauche, but my brother would not take kindly to your holding of me. Third…you have allies, don't you? Ikkaku Madarame of 11th Company, Ichigo Kurosaki, son of Isshin, and Sado Tasutora…they are in dire need of your arms, I'm afraid."
A second zan-pakuto, this being Yumichika's sickle-shaped blade, came to caress his neck in addition to Matsumoto's. The fop spoke next. "Really? And why do you think Kaku-Chan and the others are in trouble?"
"Because I can hear their screams in my head." came his simple, ominous reply.
For a moment, the trio stood there, the medic Hanataro standing off behind them. However, though he never faltered from his folded stance, his hands intertwined as he continued his 'spell', the pink-locked Takumi looked up again, his eyes bearing a considerable pain impossible in the heart of a sociopath.
"I beg you, save your friends. For Ortiz will destroy them."
Matsumoto's face became set, the decision being made long ago. She could tell this one had limited powers, as did the others that she defeated. Then, bereft of her talkative mentality, Matsumoto shun-poed off, Yumichika, Ishida, and Hanataro scrambling after her.
Unbeknownst to them, Takumi let out one last statement. "They still haven't figured out the purpose of this fight…gods forgive me."
--
To say that Ichigo was overwhelmed, part by shock and part by a raging juggernaut, would be a world-breaking understatement. He wasn't just being overwhelmed; He was getting owned. And for the life of him, he did not know why.
Maybe, I shouldn't have called the freak a freak…Ichigo's thoughts trailed, as he found himself a rare breather, trying to hoist himself back to his feet. His body, though admittedly could be worse, shivered and quivered from the number of crash-landings that occurred to him. The pavement, the streetlights, the cars, and anything else that wasn't nailed to the sidewalk, bore the depressions of contortion, either bearing a large, fist-shaped tattoo, or bearing the mold of a body (either his, Chad's or Ikkaku's).
Dude, its freakin' three-on-one! You can't tell me this guy's that strong! And for the love of all that's magical! What is that dude made of?!
As he pulled himself up, having weathered another storm and still able to move his bones, he saw his melee comrades-at-arms in various places of the quickly disintegrating city block. Ikkaku's body, from his rear to his shoulder-blades, was lodged uncomfortably in a car windshield, as if pitched there like a fast ball. His eyes were watery, as if he was trying to fight unconsciousness as well as scraping his body out of the windshield. His kimono and hakama had been reduced to rags, torn as if their enemy had ripped the fabrics off. Bruises were already beginning to form, dotting his body like a paint-by-numbers. If he wasn't a Soul Reaper, chances are he would have been killed, as he had taken more than his share of blunt trauma.
Chad found himself in a much more dangerous situation. Unlike Ichigo, who was ambling towards the melee (The pedestrians again emphatically unaware of the harrowing destruction around them), the Mexican-blood student traded blows with the cobalt-steel nightmare, standing clearly within arms reach of the much larger opponent. Chad had speed, at least that much was sure, and his armor seemed capable of repelling the concrete-shearing fists of the giant Ortiz. What amazed him more was that when Chad struck a blow (for Ortiz's weight prevented him from clever speed), the giant actually reeled. Pain was absent, as he had no skin to cut or bruise, but he was pushed outside of his immovable image with each of the Mexican-blood student's muscle.
All right Chad. Maybe we have a chance after all…
Do not let your guard down, Ichigo. This is a dangerous opponent. I cannot hurt him in my current state. Inside his mind, Zangetsu explained with an intelligence unprecedented in the strawberry-blond's capacity.
Well crap. What am I supposed to do?
Guarding Rukia might be the best solution. If this mechanical menace gets past Chad…he will target her for exposing his bulk.
Some guard I'm supposed to be. Didn't you say you couldn't hurt him?
We can't kill him, not in my current form. But perhaps we can hold him off. Until the other Soul Reapers arrive, we must hold him off.
Ichigo spat out from the answer. A part of him wanted to join the fight, but he looked behind him, seeing an unconscious Rukia and a straining Orihime. Having had to heal Chad once today, it was obvious the battle was taking an indirect toll of his female classmate as well.
Do not let your emotions get the better of you, Zangetsu enigmatically warned.
In the midst of the fight, Chad continued to bob-and-weave through the slower punches aimed at his head. Several times Ortiz lunged a bit with each punch, and each punch imitated a wrecking ball, for rather than maiming Chad, as was the intention of each skeletal-shaped knuckle, the fist careened into a foreign object, smashing it to obliteration. Sometimes it would be a parked car. Sometimes it would be a piece of a wall. Sometimes it would be a store window. But fortunately, each blow missed, and the integrity of Chad's body was luckily preserved.
"Dag'nabit, kiddo. Stop moving around!" The giant bellowed, again causing a chill run down the watching Ichigo's back. How could something that inhuman in appearance talk so human?
I appear human, Ichigo. But I am not. Conquer your revulsion, or else you will remain weak.
Ichigo barely heard his zanpaku-to spirit's lecture. The giant again lunged forward with a malicious fist, missed Chad again, but driving his arm all the way up to the shoulder in a tunnel of masonry. Temporarily held, Chad saw his chance, and leapt in with a destructive fist, climaxing in a muted boom.
Due to his position, that of being held in the masonry, Ortiz did not bother to dodge or block. But he did recoil, and for the first time, he was knocked off his feet, a section of the masonry that held him being blasted to bits by the explosion of Chad's armored right arm. Smoke coagulated from the cobalt-blue armor, gathering dust to replace its reflective properties. A deceptive earthquake reverberated under the street, its source not being a trembling from underground, but rather the touching-down of Ortiz's metallic girth. Asphalt flew Zionward in chunks, threatening to bludgeon passersby and any pigeons that dare mar the air. But Chad was not perturbed. Seeing his advantage, the rejuvenated strong-arm jumped, and landed in a perfectly-timed mount, on top of the cobalt giant.
Perhaps the giant swore. If he did, it was silenced by the resounding booms of his massive right arm. Empowered by his latent energy and an evident desire to protect through destruction, Chad brought the hammer down in timed successions, each strike creating a detonation of his power, all lowered on the bisected face of Ortiz. Metal gave some to the temerity of his blows, and he kept bringing them in full supply, the demand increased ever so by his desire to protect, to protect by eliminating the monster. Yet Ichigo could tell that even Chad, whose strength and durability was legendary on his middle-school campus, was becoming fatigued. Each explosion was minutely quieter than the one that preceded it, and the tempo that his strikes paid obeisance to slowed gradually, going from allegro to moderato to adagio to lento. His armor seemed lethargic, but he kept pummeling, each punch losing its force, but each one using a lot of energy.
Eventually, after landing over fifteen shots, Chad stopped, his breathes coming a bit more haggard. If it had been a matter of brute strength alone, Chad was indefatigable. But he was using spirit energy, something that can be increased in capacity, but takes time to regenerate. It was a newer concept to Chad than his accustomed strength, an unfamiliar one that he had yet to fully understand. His armor began to fade, and, seeing the inert form of his adversary…Chad relinquished his mount, and stood up.
Ichigo was ecstatic, as his burly friend got up. "Good job, Chad! You beat him down real good!"
"…Yeah." Chad silently responded. Perspiration was winding down his brow, another clear indicator to his fatigue.
Ichigo. Wait. There may be something amiss.
What are ya talking about?
Just a feeling. I am stronger than Chad, if not in brute force than in finesse. However, this giant withstood all of my blade, but succumbed to your friend's fists. It seems peculiar.
We can't feel any spiritual pressure, so he's gotta be dead.
Ichigo. He did HAVE any spiritual pressure to begin with. And I do not think Chad has the ability to kill, as it is.
And you say that because…?
He is still of sound mind. Zangetsu responded enigmatically. Should Ortiz still be alive, do not let your emotions control you. It will be very…ruinous for you.
Ichigo did not respond to his internal spirit. Instead he watched, as Chad neared him, taking his time due in part to both his supposed victory and his own lassitude.
Perhaps he should have run, in hindsight.
Ichigo just barely noticed it, and found Zangetsu's prediction confirmed. He did not immediately notice how the plastic garbage bin beside when Chad executed his pummeling started to grow in height, its base hidden by a parked car beside them. The meandering pedestrians only added to the lack of foresight, for he failed to see the devastation about to be wrought. The plastic garbage bin finally did reach high enough to wear it was taller than the two adolescents, and Ichigo, with Zangetsu's internal ramblings accompanying him, caught sight.
His words were not fast enough. "Chad! Behind y-"
The garbage bin was hurled at Chad, and bounced off harmlessly. Having endured both a motorcycle accident and a falling I-beam before, Chad's iron body was practically immune to plastic projectiles, no matter how big or how quickly thrown. However, the garbage bin was merely a distraction, for a real threat took advantage.
Chad turned around to see what had caused the poltergeist garbage bin. In surprise, and completely against expectation, was a dented, leering, lion-faced Ortiz, his cobalt-blue armor now distorted from the rapid explosions of Chad's right hand, and in complete need of polishing.
That was the only thing Chad saw, before his breath completely left him. The right arm of Ortiz surpassed his notice with cheetah-powered speed, almost boring into his rock-hard abdomen as if it was made of rubber. The unusual cylinder at the rear of his right tricep jutted out unrepentantly, reminding Ichigo of a hammer on a gun, and without a slurred, carefree word, the cylinder at the bottom of his arm pressed back in, creating an explosion of its own. The detonation occurred at Chad's stomach, directly where the skeletal knuckles were, and the explosion exceeded anything Chad himself could produce. Like a brilliant bomb, Chad was propelled skyward from the knuckle-based blast, hurling him at speeds that normally would result in a speeding ticket. Where he landed, Ichigo could not say, only seeing his burly friend soar overhead, and back near the bank
"Oh ho yea! I friggin' told ya I'd get ya! Did I or did I not say I'd get ya?!" The lion-faced giant laughed cruelly, his mechanical mandible artificially moving to form the words. "Damn it. I paid him for blowin' my friggin' cigar t'smithereens. He's probably dead now."
"…What did…you…say…?" Ichigo struggled to form the words, to form the reality.
"Gha ha! 'At spic o'er 'ere hit me pretty hard, I will admit. But I've taken a lot werse, ya know. He's got not uh damn thing on 'Nam. And besides…my armor can wit'stand booms to 'e face. I don't think his skin could take my depth charge to 'e face, eh?"
"You killed him?"
"I might've." Ortiz's candid comeback did nothing to simmer the boiling emotions taking hold in Ichigo's head.
"Then I'll make you pay."
"'At's rich comin' from uh guy who hasn't even laid a scratch on me. Ya think ya got what it takes? Ha!"
Ichigo made to jump, but again he was internally reprimanded from within by his zanpaku-to spirit. Interestingly, his voice appeared somewhat faint now. Also stopping his immediate assault was Ikkaku's impromptu leap into the fray. Blood was profusely pouring from his bald cranium, and again he was almost denuded from the fight, but these two monsters drew themselves to battle once more. However, though Ikkaku's will was insurmountable, his body's power was infinite. Ichigo and Ortiz knew this.
"Ah. Ya nevva learn, eh?"
At the start of the battle, Ikkaku was far too fast for Ortiz to hit with his slow punches, but his method of counter-throwing was finally paying off. The 3rd seat of 11th company had been tossed into so many unforgiving surfaces so far, that not even his iron body, battered as it was, could hold itself together, after the merciless blows reigned down on him. A series of deliberate hooks found Ikkaku's nose and temple, making him sway and utterly demolishing his nose, before he turned into his left hook, and climaxed with a discus backhand. While it lacked the explosive power of his right, as made evident with Chad, the bald Soul Reaper crashed to the ground, his head busted and bleeding after bouncing off the commonplace sidewalk. For a moment, Ichigo thought he heard the cracking of bone, signaling either Ikkaku's injury, or fatality.
Ichigo. Please control yourself. Do not attack with abandon.
The siren voice of Zangetsu was falling on deaf ears. In spite of his more animated pleas, Ichigo's mind was turning willfully to bloodlust. The lack of remorse displayed by the mechanical monster combined with the sheer brutality being exacted on his friends was turning his stomach. He was losing his patience significantly, and the sight of seeing his comrades getting virtually killed was more than even he could stand.
Darn it…First Rukia, then Chad, and now Baldy…I'd kill him if I had the power…
Zangetsu noticed this within, and shouted in an enfeebled whisper. He might as well been shouting in a hurricane, for his cries were muted for one reason or another, and Ichigo failed to hear him.
It did not hinder Ichigo's livid cognition.
Ortiz, his attention focused on the downed Soul Reaper, nonchalantly demonstrated further lack of respect, as he kicked Ikkaku with his turtloid shelled foot, knocking his limp body into the air and onto his back. Ikkaku did not howl, indicating his being of unconscious and near-death. Ichigo could still see the slow rises of his bare chest, though the tempo was slowing down with each breath taken. Orihime or Hanataro could've healed him, Ichigo knew, but Hanataro was at the other battle, and Orihime was medicating Rukia behind him.
"Hey! Ya must not really care for yer buddies, if yer still standin' o'er 'ere!" Ortiz taunted, now carefully planting a elephantine foot on Ikkaku's sternum. "Soul Reaper here's gonna die, ya know, if he doan get uh medic pronto. But I see ju'how concerned ya are. Why doan I do ya uh favor, eh? How 'bout, since yer so damned concerned 'bout yer buddies, I keel 'em all, an' we gottit all t'ourselves. Whaddya say?"
Ichigo had no voice, but his face contorted in such a way that no mask of anger could compare. His face angled and warped to an ugly, ghastly, visage, more horrific than honorable. His hands shook from the implacable, volcanic rage bubbling dangerously inside of him. Stress clawed at him, while ironically, Zangetsu became eerily silent, as if frightened by Ichigo's very powder keg of ire.
"I won't forgive you." Ichigo muttered.
The human eye of Ortiz widened, "What ya say? Ah, hale. If yer ust gonna stand 'ere like uh yella-belly coward, 'en I'm gonna crush 'is bald-face. See-ya, kiddo."
Ichigo did not respond with words. His rage had possessed him, forgoing from a sycophantic shadow to the puppeteer in his cranium. He saw nothing in front of him, and heard nothing around him. Not Orihime's soft pleadings and concerned interrogations, nor the pedestrians straddling about them, nor even the wind in his ear. He did not hear Ortiz's inquiry, but he saw him. The substitute soul reaper lost track of time: One moment he was standing as a steadfast guard, next to Orihime and Rukia. Then next, as his darkening eyes (The day seemed to be getting darker, Ichigo thought absently) locked on to the lion-faced giant, his cobalt-blue bulk heaving up to smash Ikkaku's heart to innumerable pieces, Ichigo found himself on top of the giant, his blade cutting at the lifted leg of his armor. Though all it produced was a resounding clang, Ortiz did not anticipate the attack, and so he lost his balance, crashing to the asphalt.
Ichigo did not hear the aftershock it produced.
Instead, he leapt upon the giant, yelling out a war cry that does not manifest in the son of a clinician, and aimed his sword at the best, instinctive, vulnerable weak point: The Eye.
He came within shaky centimeters of penetrating that pale, sky-blue eye. Zangetsu was intercepted only just by his skeletal left hand, its hydraulic power countering Ichigo's maddening rage by a slight margin. The cigar, impossibly still in his mouth, finally fell to the side, as if the jest had ended.
"…Now 'ere's uh familiar face." Ortiz boomed, again creating the alien mixture of mechanical echo over vindictive drawl. "Why yer eye goin' black, eh?"
Ichigo had no answer for the impossibility. By now, he was consumed by something more than just rage, though he himself couldn't put it on his finger.
"Ah, well. How many times does it take? Yer Zan-pakto can't harm me. No zan-pakto can bust 'rough my armor, kiddo. Get mad all ya want. I'll beat ya in 'e end." As if aware of this fact, Ortiz switched hands, grabbing the near-eye-slaughtering cleaver with his right, and pulling his left up. The four blades at the elbow straightened out suddenly, and began to rotate, as if it were a top. The left arm, up to the elbow, also began to rotate, its speed quickly blinding its characteristics, and strangely taking on a cyan light other than the cobalt armor.
I will…I will…
"Banzai, kiddo."
Had Ichigo not been so consumed by a hunger for death, perhaps he would've noticed the danger manifesting in the left arm. He had seen Chad do something similar, seen Urahara do something similar, and each time created destructive aftershocks. If he had been lucid and calm, avoidance would've been effortless. But Ichigo was a murderous pit-bull, and he wanted to pry open the monster's armor.
So, when the rotating left arm let out a blue-light beam of energy, he could not evade its path. The blast rammed into his body, forcing him off, and sending him sprawling a block away. The beam pushed him into the driver's side of a car, and from that it shoved the soul reaper and the car into more cars.
Eventually, the beam relented, and Ichigo slumped to the ground, a block and a half away from the mechanical monster. At his back was a car pile up, and yet no one, not even the drivers, noticed anything was wrong. Neither did Ichigo, his respiratory system going into overdrive as he tried to struggle up.
Hey.A voice croaked in his head, surly and satin in its design. Looks like your getting your butt whooped.
Zangetsu?
He's out to lunch right now. I'm his stand in. Call me Jester, since you're the King.
What do you want, Jester? Ichigo could feel his ribs resonating, as if the bones cracked together.
I'm gonna save your butt, of course. Give you some power why you rest. You'd like that, I can guess. Ichigo realized the guy sounded lie a used car salesman. His eyes focused on the approaching mechanical monster, and he realized the beast wasn't even winded yet.
This is my fight.
I'm in here too, just so you know. If you go get yourself killed, King, I die too.
And you think you can do any better?
I know I can, King. I don't hold back, hehehe….Besides…isn't that freak gonna kill Rukia? You haven't done anything to slow him down. Step back a bit! Tag me it! I'll take care of it, hehehe…
Ichigo frowned in thought, but he realized the voice called "Jester" had a point. Nothing he had done was working. So what was the harm in this?
Okay. I'll tag you in. But you do anything funny, and I'll-
Relax, King. I'll leave you with a smile on your face, when I finish him off…don't worry a drop.
Hurry up then!
As Ichigo's ego faded into the recesses of his mind, he swore he could hear a sinister chuckling, from the voice that so brazenly named him "King"…
--
Ortiz did not notice anything that would indicate a metamorphosis, but even his average intelligence could sense that something had come over the boy. And it wasn't just the eyes, which had gone from an ivory white to a shadowy, hooded, malevolent black.
Now, it was his posture, which slumped briefly, only to cock itself back up like a cadaver, and sneer at him. Ortiz stopped his slow advance, and stared hard at the boy.
"Dag'nabit kiddo. Ya lose yer contacts?"
The boy didn't say a thing. Rather, he dusted off his kimono and hakama, and raised his cleaver blade.
"Still wanna continue, eh?" Ortiz muttered briefly.
Finally the orange-haired reaper spoke. "I'm gonna eat your soul, freak."
If Ortiz was intimidated, he didn't show it. "Big words from uh kiddo. C'min try it. I'll blow your head offor callin' me a freak!"
His left arm started to rotate again, the blue energy building as a bazooka, but he failed to account for the boy. As if a seal had been placed on him, the boy jumped with greater speed than before. Zan-pakuto born with insatiable malice, Ichigo slashed fervently and fast, uncaring to the fact that his blade still was not breaching his armor. Instead, he seemed to enjoy the vindictive, albeit unproductive thrashing, as the blade clipped on his armor. Ortiz reared back for a knock-out punch, but the now-black-eyed adolescent jumped back and straddled his bulky shoulders.
"I told you, I'm gonna eat your soul. But first, I'll make you bow down."
"Fat chan-"
Ortiz was interrupted, as Ichigo's blade drove itself into the mechanical giant's artificial mouth. Stuck in his mandible, one of the only openings of the body, the dark-eyed soul reaper punched at the cobalt head of Ortiz, aware of the damage being inflicted back, but holding a berserker's philosophy in that he did not care.
Eventually, Ichigo finally managed to get the monster to his knees, though it took now broken hands to do it. His fists rimmed with blood, and he pulled his sword out of the mouth of Ortiz.
"Now, how do I cut you open?"
"Ya punk…" The mandible struggled to move and vocalize.
"I know! I'll use the host's life energy. I'll pump up my blade, and kill you!!"
Ichigo, now demon-possessed in his desire for vengeance, reared back his cleaver-blade, both broken hands clasping the sweating, wet pommel. But Ichigo left himself open, again. A dangerous opponent like Ortiz should never be taken lightly.
Which was his mistake.
Ortiz's left arm, spinning still though the whole exchange, jutted forward, and fired a more compact blast at Ichigo. Panicked, the substitute soul reaper slashed through, dissipating the energy beam. However, this was a diversion: Ortiz found his footing, and quickly nailed an uppercut to the dark-eyed teen's jaw line. Before he got too high from the ground, Ortiz nonchalantly grabbed his ankle, and slammed him down to the concrete with all his might.
A loud, sickening crunch followed the reaper's ungraceful impact. Ichigo did not move, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, and his eye coloration returning to a pure white.
"Dag'nabit. I need uh cigar," The lion-faced giant mused. "Yer dangerous. I betta keel ya…" His arm began once more to revolve and hum, generating its own hypnotic white noise, and reared itself towards Ichigo's unconscious body.
"G'night, kiddo."
His eye only just caught the new arrival, and he barely avoided the attack. A soot-styled projectile cut at his face, burning superficially, but still burning his metallic head case. Surprised, Ortiz jumped back, abandoning his execution.
"Ortiz! Please desist! There is no more need of bloodshed and murder!" A naïve voice rang through out.
"Ah, dag'nabit, Takumi. Why 'e crap should I stop?!"
"Because…I will be forced to stop you." A new voice, strong, feminine, and packed with veracity, joined in a double-prong of surprise. Ortiz looked briefly behind him, to see an exhausted Takumi approaching, then turned to his front to see Matsumoto, Ayasegawa, and Ishida, all weapons bared and the want of war on their faces.
Matsumoto remained composed, his Hai-neko at the ready in shikai form, while Ortiz's left arm continued to whirl, producing his blaster energy. His leonine face tried to curl into a sneer, as he spoke.
"He ha…Damn. Ya look like uh hooker." Ortiz shamelessly said. His arm raised and cocked itself at the Lieutenant of 10th division. "If I had my body back…oh yeah."
"Try me. You and Canopus have caused enough trouble."
"Heh. Yer not backing down! Good fer ya!"
The two, the strawberry-blond Soul Reaper and the metallic behemoth, seemed poised to start the fight, but on both sides an interloper appeared. On Ortiz's side, a frantic Takumi stepped in, placing himself in front of the blaster arm. On Matsumoto's it was Orihime, who had all but descending into hysterics at the state of Ichigo Kurosaki.
"Ichigo!"
"Ortiz! Please, enough! Our order are not to eliminate them! Please! Spare them!"
Matsumoto tensed, as did her two seconds behind her. But Ortiz looked long at his fellow, before turning his blaster arm off, the skeletal metal slowing its rotation, until reaching a singular stasis. The sneer on his leonine face made it all apparent.
"Wha's yer name, blondie?" Ortiz drawled.
"Rangiku Matsumoto, Lieutenant-captain of 10th division."
"Name's Ortiz. 'Member it, cause I wanna finish 'is. Oh, 'is here is Takumi Warunabe. A psychic likes yas. Now C'mon, Pinky. I need uh cigar." The giant adopted his carefree attitude, as if nothing, the destruction surrounding him which they all had caused, was nothing special at all. As if nothing had happened, and the coalition intending to attack him now was not even worth his notice. The smoke rising from his metallic skull did not go unnoticed by Matsumoto.
Her gazed turned now to Takumi, who looked torn between intense concentration and intense anguish. He looked forlorn at the area around him, and the commoners that were still oblivious to the damage around him. The pink-haired youth's words were somewhat of a surprise.
"I'm terribly sorry for this."
"You can apologize by surrendering." Matsumoto quipped. Ishida's arrows seemed a bit eager, but she herself wanted to avoid a fight.
"I wish I could, but my brother would be very mad. I can't let you capture me. But I can help you another way." Takumi said, his face showing a naïve hopefulness Rangiku rarely encountered in an enemy. "Currently I am holding this part of the city in a illusion. I can wait until you leave before I release it. But maybe I can do one better."
"Speak then, would you?"
"…you said you were of the 10th division, right? Captain Hitsugaya's corp.? Is he safe?"
"Of course he is. He's in…" Her voice trailed off suddenly as she peered for a clock behind her.
"Are you certain?"
Matsumoto looked around, and spotted a clock. The clock read 4:10.
"Please…go and make sure. I don't think you want to replace him…just yet. I do not agree with Canopus's ways, but…"
The gangly Takumi said nothing else, his face a picture of morose sorrow, but he moved on. His last sentence struck the truth to her, and how tactical this group of Canopus was.
"Yumichika! Come with me!" Matsumoto roared at her realization. This whole foray, despite its destructive damage, was a mere decoy. These two were not their enemies…it was not Matsumoto's priority to kill or capture these two, as much as it was to save Toshiro's life…
Leaving Orihime, Ishida, and Hanataro to tend to the fallen, Yumichika and Matsumoto shun-poed to the skies, aware now of the true danger…
--
August 12th, Eastern Mashiba District…
As a Soul Reaper captain, Toshiro had seen many zanpaku-tos, each with their own powers of enhancement and forms. From his own Hyourinmaru, a single-edged blade accompanied with chain that was a big as himself, to Matsumoto's Nai-neko, a blade which became a cloud of sulfuric ash, to Izuru's Wabisuke, which became hooked on command and increased weight…the possibilities of power were endless. The only constant that seemed to befit each blade, despite the radical differences encountered at either the shikai or bankai stages, was that the power was tailor-made for the user. At least that was the theory. Why Toshiro could understand his own, he failed to understand others, like Izuru, Abarai, or Aizen. However, looking at Karin now, who had clashed swords with her adversary, he found the attribute of this blade…interesting.
Karin's smaller form struggled, holding not a blade at all but a small war hammer, forcing back as much as she could the tizona held by the dapper Janus Bloodswerth. From the clash of their weapons arose a pungent smoke, which Toshiro drew his eyes to. The zanpaku-to held by Karin was actually melting the saber held by Bloodswerth, eating through it as if it were a paper before a flame. Whether or not Janus himself could notice this, or did notice and chose not to do anything, eluded the 10th division captain, who remained barred from entry of the fight by the Electric Sky Fence conjured by the dandy. Instead he could only observe the steady smelting of the tizona, until finally, it fell in half.
Karin saw her chance and tried to swipe with her newly acquired power, but Janus vanished and reappeared a safe distance away.
"Ha. Ha. Ha. So that is your power." His face contorted, frowning despite his amused words, before restating. "No…perhaps I should correct myself. My employer did mention something, about this."
Toshiro again turned his eyes to the zan-pakuto resting in Karin's hands, and he mused the impossibility set before him. Karin was clearly alive, that much was obvious due to her strain…so then how was she wielding a zan-pakuto at all? Only a soul reaper could use a zan-pakuto, create and manifest a zan-pakuto…and yet Karin, still alive, still human, produced one…
"I see you are under a great deal of strain. Que lastima. You may or may not be the entertainment I seek…but you are una esclava after all." He turned his eyes to his now-sundered sword, its top half melted away by sheer contact. "Perhaps I need to open my eyes better to understand. Time to make this more exciting."
Karin gave a look of repressed exasperation. "Look, weirdo! I just melted your sword! Can't we call this off? I'm sure you'd be embarrassed if a little girl kicked your butt!"
Don't provoke him anymore, Karin… Toshiro thought internally, delegating his attention to the fight.
"Ha. If a little Niña indeed beat me…I would have more dignity in a coffin. However, before I totally outclass you…let us set tarjetas on the mesa. Yo estoy el Diablo Sellado Siete. Do you know why? It is because of my abilities, which there are seven of. My sellos…which I can activate at anytime, or in combination. The exceptions are these: Sello Septimo, which is in constant activation, as it is a medium of my skin…and Sello Cuarto…which is in my retinas."
"…I'm really getting tired of hearing your trap." Karin conceded.
The Diablo paid her no mind. "Espada. Escudo. Pies Rapidez. Revelacion. Zona. Criatura. And Energia Amplificador. Those are my Seven-Seals, embroidered on my flesh as per runes of power. Tattoos of my abilities, that can never be erased from my nervous system, no matter how many times they are cut off. As you have noticed, I can use my Sellos in combinations, though each is powerful on its own. I will show you my Sello Cuarto now."
And then, he took off his hat.
Though Toshiro had the 'privilege' of fighting this dapper dandy twice before, the man never took off his hat voluntarily, and even when it was removed, Hitsugaya didn't get a chance to catch his eyes. But now, with that sable fedora cast aside, both Soul Reaper and Kurosaki scion received their chance for a gander. His eyes were a blemish in comparison to the rest of his well-kept body. While his tuxedo, his shoes, his gloves, his hat, were all kept and polished with superhuman fastidiousness, the eyes of Janus Bloodswerth did not match at all the kempt outlook of a gentleman. Much like with his almost albino skin, Janus had mars on his face: A tribal like insignia lay embroidered on his pasty forehead, curling like a snake around his chocolate eyes in a lavender dye. This removed the normality from an otherwise sunshine-required face, added only further by the contours and angles apparent in his face.
He glanced over at Toshiro and then back at Karin, allowing his elongated black hair to shimmer down. "Ah…so that explains everything. Pedono me, por favor. It seems you are not as arrogant as I first believed, dragon pequeno. And you…that spirit in your forge hammer is waking…will you be so brazen when it is aware of its original master's absence?"
"…What the crap are you-"
Karin cut off her question instantly, as Janus leapt into the fray, dashing in while simultaneously producing another tizona to replace his broken one. Karin used her soccer skills to evade the vertical slash, taking solace in distance.
Janus lost his habit for small talk, robotically slashing without reprieve. Karin defended as best she could, taking comfort in the face that the mere contact of her hammer's head would melt his blade. However, Janus learned from his first mistake, his eyes beaming, mirroring his widening smile, as he evaded her war hammer with accuracy. Toshiro did not like how this was turning out. Though Karin had the higher spiritual pressure, she had no experience, a factor this foppish hitman had in abundance. He also realized that, even if Karin struck his sword, he could produce another and another from his hand. The fight would last only as long as the man was entertained.
No…Karin can win this…somehow…
Fury finally peaked at his frustration. The energy fence in front of him was barring his attempt to help, and an innate desire to protect was sundering his conscious. Did he want to help? Of course! Did he have the ability? Did he have Hyourinmaru? No.
Did that matter?
The swords dance in front of him, beyond the Fence, continued without abating. Karin would rear back and swing her bludgeon as if it were a baseball bat, leaving glaring evidence of her experience deficit, and miss at each wide swing. By the time she finished the swing, the Seven-Sealed Devil would circle around and try to poke her in the back. Only luck allowed her to raise her zan-pakuto and guard against him.
"I will cut you up, esclava." Janus would chide at each guard. Not a fool to make a second mistake, the dandy withdrew his tizona from contact from her blade, avoiding the melting touch of her zan-pakuto.
"Better hurry if you want to defeat me."
"Shut up!"
"That blade is not meant for you, esclava. Kiiromori said it belonged to another. How you injected it escapes my eyes but…oh well. Try to entertain me."
Karin struck right when he finished his sentence, taking advantage of his monologue. The blade seared into his foppish clothes, cutting without mercy into his body. Yet Toshiro could tell it was not enough. The grey droplets leaking from the hammer continued to pilfer the earth and the fop, but Bloodswerth retained his pallid composure. His sabers, brought up in a half-hearted guard, liquidated instantly. Letting go of the remnants, he looked at the dark-haired girl in the eyes, his mouth a small, dilapidated mockery of a smile.
"You cannot beat me with una espada that does not belong to you, no matter how great your conviction is. Those without power are spineless worms…and the spirit you forcibly put inside of you…is awakening. You are losing your edge, Niña. Enjoy that power while you can, for power often comes too great a price."
Karin grimaced audibly, but her drive exceeded her knowledge. Her attention seemed divided, for some reason or another. As if she was inside her thoughts as well as fighting a battle…
"Those with both conviction and power are fated to victory and grandeur, as I shall be with each victory. And those without, as you and your dragon master so clearly lack…Are destined to die…like you and I."
"Karin!" Toshiro called out, his body ramming into the Electric Sky Fence in his magnetic want. As Karin seemed somewhat out of it, spacing out as one may say, the Devil walked delicately to her, with his tizona in hand. His smile continued to widen, and his arm mechanically, surgically, rose, before descending as a thunderbolt from the heavens. Toshiro churned a second shout at Karin.
Karin did not raise her hammer zan-pakuto in time, but she did not shout a death wail either (Toshiro mentally thanked his and her lucky stars). Interestingly, The Seven-Sealed Devil stopped his swing from its fatalistic passage into her head, and instead halted just short of her neck. The tizona blade glistened, and he looked down upon her, hypnotized by some unseen force.
"Ah. Amusing. Yousenkawa is awake. Mi Sello Cuarto reveals that to me. And I'm guessing, it is not pleased a little Niña is holding him. Ha. Ha." His emotional void gave all the explanation Hitsugaya needed, and again he rushed the fence, trying to ignore the pain, replace it in his brain for the cold he has become accustomed to.
"So, little esclava, what will you do? You cannot control an alien zan-pakuto spirit. Surrender? Die? You are destined to, as I. And you, capitan decimo," He shifted mid-sentence, turning to the rampaging Toshiro, who was flinging his body at the nerve-raking conjured fence. "Settle down, por favor. I shall luchar you when you have a significant reason to fight me."
"If you spill a drop of her blood, I will annihilate you."
Toshiro was surprised by the veracity of his own words. He knew intuitively, that he meant exactly what he said. Neither his brain nor his heart could deny that. And yet…why had he said it? A thousand time streams with a thousand more questions passed in his head, instinctive more than conscious, and he realized the true depth of his rage…it was not something unfamiliar to him…for he had felt it before, when Momo had been concerned. When Momo had been threatened by a hollow, had he not been the one rushing to her aid, if not Kira, Renji, or Captain Aizen? So why did he feel such lethal belligerence, such killing intent, towards this man? This insignificant man, that held no care over his own continued existence…sought to murder him. That he could endure. This whoever…this lopsided view of his own proud diginity…and his uncaring attitude towards others, namely Karin in this case…He was breathing fire. All he could see was that man, who so sacrilegiously named himself a Devil.
The Seven-Sealed Devil turned away from him, amused perhaps by his threat, or maybe bored. He turned his head to the environment around him, in the shabby lot he had chosen for their battle stage. His sable-colored hair turned up to the sky, eyeing the scaly white clouds and the ocean-blue sky, before lowing his heavenly gaze to the earth. His eyes scanned the weed-infested grass, the brother buildings between that beleaguered them in their ill states of frame, and then back to Karin herself, still spaced out from some circumstance Hitsugaya had yet to uncover. His blade was still held at the tomboy's neck, pathetic in its defense against her dribbling war hammer. His body from the neck down was rigid as glass, and then he cast his eyes back to him, aware perhaps of the Electric Sky Fence now for some unexplainable reason, evaporating from Toshiro Hitsugaya's sight. His small, restrained smile was there, under his piercing brown eyes, his face now a scene of visible delight. He pulled back his tizona, and Toshiro saw a small slick of crimson fluid on the tip of the blade.
What Janus Bloodswerth said next was a phrase Toshiro Hitsugaya would hear across time streams, though for now he would only hear it before intelligence gave way to ancestry protocol.
"You shouldn't make rash threats. It makes you seem weak."
Toshiro lost his cool, and charged. His body, no longer confined by the whims of the Electric Sky Fence, dashed straight for the smirking dandy. His hand grabbed at the gladius left inert in the soil, jerked it out, and continued like a murderous assassin at the tuxedoed man. The blade trembled from the frosty anger emitted from its caretaker, and Toshiro almost smiled at the surety of his victory. He wanted ordered vengeance, even at the small slight. He wanted to erase that smile of the terrorizing narcissus before him. Nearing him, so focused, so mentally wound, that he twirled his gladius for the killing strike, missing the muttered words of the Seven Sealed Devil until it was too late.
"Combinan, Sellos Primero y Tercero: Illusory Vine Swords."
Toshiro Hitsugaya did not see the swords move, as he thrust the gladius at the black heart of his adversary. He did not see the smile on the man's face widen, nor the eyes of the warped gentleman dilate with the prattle of his incantation. Instead, Toshiro briefly saw the world as it was in normal color, and then saw his gladius break to three pieces, cut asunder by an unseen force. The next thing he saw was his world become tainted by a chunky vermillion, as if red wine had been poured into his eyes. But he knew better, as he recognized the smell and the sticky sensation. His hands instinctively reached to remove the foreign liquid from his pupils, and then the pain erupted. From his back, from his front, from his forehead, and from his legs, torture carefully collected upon his nerves, as tissue fell to an unseen knife. Toshiro halted his rush, bypassing the still-smiling dandy in his failed charge, collapsing into the paralyzed Karin. She jostled to her senses suddenly, and blanched at Toshiro's injuries. The snow-haired captain himself wavered in and out from feeling them…for he could not be sure of pain, with adrenaline surmounting his senses.
"Ha. Ha. Amusing. Neither conviction nor power, and still you seek to kill me. Hate is neither power nor conviction. It is an iceberg, dragon pequeno. A frozen mass, that can do nothing but melt in its uselessness. You'll never beat me with-Ah!"
His sentence ended with a commencement of emotion he had failed to demonstrate ever since their memory-split first meeting, as Karin, even an X-factor, implanted herself into the scene. Bloodswerth's only target had been Hitsugaya himself, and with his arrogance sky-rocketing from 'wounding the dragon', he had failed to take notice of the 'esclava'. His hubris was his undoing, as while Karin could not (thankfully) kill with a hammer, she could strike hard enough.
Thus, when she raised her war hammer up, and swung it like a bat into his flank, the Seven-Sealed Devil took the full brunt flat-footed. Satin fabric and albino flesh seared like roasting meat with contact of Yousenkawa's head upon his side, and a human as he was, pain proved a proficient reactant. His stance of perfect confidence faltered, and his voice raked out a shriek. His swords abandoned his hands, and his footing dropped from the burning hot metal penetrating his nerves.
"I thought I told you to shut up." Karin wryly replied.
Bloodswerth peeled himself off of the hammer, a hand reaching instinctively for the wound. From where Karin had struck lay a hole of blackened epidermis, wounded by the hammer zan-pakuto. His face dropped its smile entirely, and he brought his hands up to demonstrate his displeasure.
"How dare you, una esclava impotente, strike me? Me. Januarius Bloodswerth. El Diablo Sellado Siete. You had a chance to flee. Now, you are simply destined to die…with tu dragon."
"Toshiro's my friend." The 10th captain heard the dark-haired girl state. "I won't let you hurt him!"
"Then…you will be fortunate. Ill-gotten maestra of metal, protecting your dragon de hielo…you've sated my entertainment for long enough. I shall kill you now, so watch closely, would you kindly? There are dangers even greater than I, and that boy will bleed to death very soon. But I will kill you in flair also."
"Combinan, Sellos Primero y Sexto y Septimo: Shark-Fanged Eel Sabers."
Toshiro had to blink several times, grudgingly getting the caking blood out of his eyes to see. No longer was the dandy holding a pair of normal, material blades akin to a tizona, but a pair of long swords composed of pure blue energy, much like the Electric Sky Fence. On the phantoms of energy, Toshiro vaguely could spot a disdain of little teeth, grazing the illusory ends of the blades. With a flair he twirled them around, and pointed them at his defender, Karin.
"Little Nina, you cannot harm these sabers. You have a blade of metal and spiritual energy. I have blades of electric charges, like the nimble eel. Your curtain has fallen, and Destiny has come to claim you. Buenos Noches, ninos. Be grateful of the future I spare you."
The blades raised themselves up, taking a life of their own, as they twirled and writhe in his abyssal grip. Karin stepped in front of Hitsugaya, her cute face now steeled into determination, and she reared the war hammer back for a swing to intercept. Toshiro himself stood up, his body protesting vehemently the act, as he struggled to protect Karin as Karin was protecting him.
I don't want her to die.
Amazingly, he heard a massive clock sound off, indicating it was 4:15.
Bloodswerth's albino form took indeed a most devilish form, his eyes and face and nose traversing upon each other to twist into a vindictive face. The blade of energy inched closer, and as that clock bellowed its interval, time slowed down.
Toshiro acted on impulse, and grabbed Karin at the last moment, drawing her face into his ruined clothes, while bringing her down to the ground. His move was just in time, and simultaneously greeted with a cry of surprise. A saber slashed where her neck would've been, and cut just the tip of Hitsugaya's head. He buried her face into bosom, and waited for the deathblow, his back to the self-absorbed dandy.
Amazed for a third time, that prophesized deathblow never came. He heard a brief grunt, and the sound of metal piercing flesh, but that was it. Curious, Toshiro chanced a slow look behind him.
The dandy held his electric-blue energy blades in the air, trying vainly to move them, or gather strength to move them. Blood was beginning to dribble out of his mouth, and he was struggling to stand. Vitality seemed to be slipping from him, and looking behind him, Toshiro could see why. 5th Seath Yumichika Ayasegawa and Rangiku Matsumoto stood behind him, both their zan-pakutos thrusting into his vital organs, evoking a strong sense of déjà vu in the boy genius.
The dandy turned his head, his eyes completely livid and his lips pursed in palpable fury: It was the fury of the dying, who only a moment before had life by the throat. His mouth opened, revealing bloodstained teeth, and he found ironic words to mutter as his soul reaper assailants.
"You cheated."
And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body becoming vacant instantly.
Toshiro could only breath a sigh of relief, before his mind finally shut down. As darkness consumed him in that lonely, shabby lot, he recalled his arms gripping Karin's body still…a unnoticed desire shining even through his unconsciousness.
Conviction?
Briefly, he felt the tomboy wiggle in his embrace, but it was a fleeting feeling. He knew no more, as his weary, lacerated body slumped in relief and exhaustion, the bane of his agony, finally slain before him. The body demanded payment after oh so long. But at least it was over. The Devil was done.
Destined to die, you and I.
--
End Chapter.
Translations:
Esclava-slave
Impotente-powerless
Tarjetas-Cards
Mesa-table
Escudo-shield
Pies rapidez-speedy feet
Revelacion- revelation
Zona-area
Criatura-creature
The rest should be obvious.