Chapter Twenty Eight, "Stories of Betrayal" – Part Eight

Chaotic

Nagata avoided a direct hit from the Onmitsukidō Commander, but the gargantuan fist of the wolf captain slammed his body through five concrete walls, breaking two ribs and dislocating a shoulder. The throbbing of his muscles went on ignored as he forced himself to a shaky stand. Kyoraku stood waiting at the end of the hall with his twin scimitars drawn and a cool grin on his face, behind him stood Rose, of the Vizards and a retired Tower, holding in his hand his golden whip. He sensed their lieutenants and a handful of unseated officers running to the underground levels in the hopes of reaching Aizen before he did, but he sent a couple dozen Undead in pursuit.

He praised Ukitake again mentally for his lack of stupidity.

He cleaned more blood from his face, but the action merely smeared it across his cheek. "Come on fellas, if you want to hurt me, you're gonna have to try a lot harder than that," he taunted, putting a fist to his chest. "This body's built to last."

A nicely delivered bluff, he acknowledged, but one that went unnoticed.

The petite Onmitsukidō woman and wolf captain reappeared at the hole in the wall. Nagata was amazed that a whole chunk of wall stayed upright even though the floor beneath it was falling apart under the weight of their fight and the ceiling had been blown out in the activation of the wolf captain's bankai.

Nagata wondered if at a certain point Soul Society thought it fit to worship the ground Nagisa walked on for her creation and the intelligence it took to help it evolve into energy that molded into a body like a second skin, increasing the person's susceptibility to pain. Thanks to the final transition, Nagata could take three times their attacks about a hundred times over before his body caved. The pain, no matter how excruciating was nothing compared to the hours of ongoing torture they endured in the underground cells. It was all for the sake of an army, a unique defense force meant to annihilate large-scale threats—one that should have never existed.

If he believed in anything, it was in that. The Arcana were as much an abomination as the people that subjected them to trials of uncertainty. He knew from the minute of their emergence, in the instant it took for the warmth of sunlight to envelop his staggering form in light, that the world unveiled as far as his eyes could see was one that could never accept them. The cries and murmurs of relief rumbled in the crowd—short lived elation before he realized the crowds of shinigami and their new captains were not there to greet them. The joy drained from his expression, replaced by a crease between the eyebrows and a threatening growl.

It felt much like this.

Like the hatred of the entire world gathered and embodied each of the soldiers you called comrades or friends, who shot at you in fury and determination with distinct efforts to snuff out what remained of the life in you. Except, Nagata could attest, a thousand years ago, that he did nothing to deserve the wrath. It was different today.

He deserved it. Not that he felt guilty about it. Sure, they were dead or dying, one of the two variations, but it wasn't permanent. After the transition, they would be as good as new. No, better. Ten times better. And maybe he was the one that felt offended because he did them a favor, not a disservice and that Kenpachi hounded him like a wild animal while that stupid Kuchiki prepared an underhanded attack that hurt a lot for a projectile. The only thought running through his head the moment the cherry blossoms burst into his back was that he wanted to return home and slap Kouyou for being the forefather of a bunch of pricks.

I bet he's proud, he thought, reading his enemies movements.

For the split second it took him to think those thoughts, they had devised a silent plan of assault, shifting into ghostly attack positions, ready for whenever the self-appointed leader gave the signal.

Nagata closed his eyes, locating the flame of black energy fueling the movements of his Undead. The faceless army held up nicely on the outside, parrying with over a hundred officers, while the few dozen below ground were three levels from reaching Muken, the lowest level of the underground prison.

When he reopened his eyes, the four captains were already on him. Kyoraku attacked from above, both swords raised high above his head. The Vizard captain snapped his whip-like zanpakutō and it wound and tightened around him. The wolf captain drew an arm back, commanding his gigantic bankai to mirror it and swung so hard it cut through the air. He sensed the short captain's spiritual energy growing distant as the air swirled around him.

Only the shallow beating of his heart rang in his ears, drowned in silence.

Nagata held Kyoraku's gaze as a smile stretched across his mouth.

A blast shot to the sky, the combined attacks rolling through the floor like waves of electricity that destroyed the entire upper level. Rubble tumbled over the remaining brittle walls as the panicked screams of prisoners emerged whose cells had caved in. The view from the sky did nothing but reveal a deep, empty crate smoldering in soot-colored smoke.

Kyoraku sighed, looking into the stretch of destruction. "He got away."

.

.

Why did everyone underestimate his ability to dodge?

Nagata took three minutes of resting time to catch his breath and discard his torn, bloodied jacket. He peeled it off slowly, the flesh wound covered his back entirely and the skin around it was red raw. He reached across his back, touching the disfigured muscle tissue and ripped flesh gingerly. It stung.

He inhaled sharply.

Among the rest, the damage to his back was the only one in need of medical attention, but it needed to wait. He had four lieutenants and a captain to outperform, but first, he needed to gather his remaining energy. Rubbing a wad of blood from his back he slapped the same palm to the ground, using the same method that brought the Undead out to return them to his bloodstream.

As he beckoned them through the blood smudged across the floor, the hundreds of faceless soldiers twisted as the skin melted from their faces, falling into clumps on the ground before the earth absorbed the white remains turning them into shadows that shot back to him at high speed. Milliseconds later, thin black shadows reached his palm, sliding up his arms like a ghostly touch and seeping into his flesh wounds. The energy contained in them healed a few cuts and bruises forming along his arms and face until the last dose was delivered. His back sizzled as the healing processes closed the smallest of lacerations.

Nagata returned to his feet, sensing the action had drawn the captains straight to his location. The lieutenants remained one level above Muken. Everything was just as he wanted. For a minute, he thought it wouldn't have worked out for the best.

He dodged.

The four lieutenants were taken by storm when he appeared before them. He slunk through them with ease, fueled by his reacquired energy. He took them on as they launched at him.

The long faced youngling with the blond hair called out to his crooked sword, swinging vertically. Nagata laughed in amusement, sliding out of the blade's trajectory and uppercut him, knocking him backwards onto the ground.

Next was the woman in glasses, drawing a sword from out of nowhere. She used it to disguise a kidō, a shock of black lighting meant to render him useless long enough for the older male in sunglasses to strike. He slammed his elbows in the latter's face, smashing his dark glasses to bits and breaking his nose while jerking his sword from its sheath. The black lightning was still wrapped around his body, but caused nothing more than an annoying itch. He used the zanpakutō he stole to ram it straight into Kyoraku's lieutenant, for mostly personal reasons against her flamboyant loser of a captain.

Finally, he stood face to face with a pudgy, gold-bearing man holding a spiked ball in his hands who was shaking from head to toe.

Nagata snorted. "I don't even take pity on the useless."

With a quick dodge, he appeared behind the man and slammed his foot into the back of his neck, rendering him unconscious while the rest of the lieutenants struggled back onto their feet. He rushed into the staircase down the narrow hall, took it three steps at a time before jumping off it entirely.

The underground prison stood heavily protected by kidō and bulking shinigami with nothing better to do than pretend they're guarding dangerous prisoners. Nagata took out the two at the front gate with an ease that left him hungering for a challenge and broke through the strongest binding spells with sheer strength. Most of them were of Nagisa's creation with few uncomplicated changes and others were made by her successors, though not as tricky as they hoped.

Long ago, he volunteered to be Nagisa's guinea pig when it came down to testing them. His body was strong and it grew stronger with every dangerous hit. These were child's play, even The Magician was a better kidō user and she normally sucked.

It was easier to pick up Aizen's energy once he got through the entrance. Nagata followed it through a single hallway before it branched into two paths where he went left to a pair of steps and a corridor flooded in light. He touched his palm to the smooth gray walls and felt a chill strum down his spine, a dreadfully familiar chill. The lights aligned to the ceiling were white fluorescents, but the occasional metal holster remained nailed to the walls where candlelight pierced the darkness to the torture rooms.

Ironic. They would turn the underground laboratory into the lowest prison level.

Nagata shook his head. No use reminiscing.

A metal door awaited him at the end of the hallway. He pressed his hands against the cool surface, grinning wildly in sight of his goal, remembering the state he left Soul Society. There were no spells holding it closed, not an inch of protection. He merely grabbed the untouched handle and gave a hard pull, pouring into his hands all the physical strength he had and heard the screech of the metal as it started to bend out of shape. He continued giving it tugs, feeling his face grow hot with each pull until it wailed—a voice so pure it resonated through the narrow corridor.

Torn from its hinges, the metal scrap sat against the wall as Death entered the cylindrical chamber to find Aizen Sōsuke, blinded and silenced by black leathery straps that covered his entire face. He sat strapped to a chair, thinner and weaker than ever with a single year of twenty thousand completed for his sentence. Three small spotlights shone directly above him, giving the rest of the room an eerie glow.

Nagata wasted no time to cross the distance between them. He sunk his fingers between the straps and tore them from his face.

It took a moment for Aizen's eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. He shut them, struggling against his binds, and reopened them slowly to the shade Death provide with his towering form.

"What a way to kill yourself," complimented Nagata, smirking. "I honestly didn't expect it. How'd you find out about the Arcana, eh?"

Judging by the sly smile on his face, Aizen recognized his voice without having to lift his eyes to him. "I've known," he said slowly, voice gruff. "I'm no fool."

"'Course not, but did you honestly try to use your Arcana strength to become the next Spirit King?" mocked Nagata, reaching to the straps around his wrists and tearing them off.

Aizen rubbed his wrists, the skin rubbed raw. "It crossed my mind."

"That was pretty stupid."

Nagata finished removing the rest swiftly and helped him onto his feet. He guarded the door as the brown-haired male stretched his numbed limbs and smoothed the surface of his black robe.

"It seems the Gotei 13 did quite a number on you," he commented, observing the terrible lacerations across his back.

"I killed two captains, a lieutenant, and a civilian," remarked Nagata, facing him. "What have you done?"

Aizen only watched him in amusement, reminding Death how much he hated the Strength Arcana. Creep.

Nagata sensed the group moving into Muken at heightened speed as he munched on a bag of thick fries covered in mayonnaise and ketchup, earning a strange look from the prisoner. "The captains are coming down, you know how to dodge?"

"To an extent."

"I got rid of the binding kidō in the entire floor so we should be able to dodge outside the prison and head for the exit," Nagata elucidated. "Nagisa wants to talk first; you can do whatever you please after."

The energies were drawing closer and with a last munch to a pair of fries, Nagata turned to Aizen shamelessly and said, "By the way, I ate your lunch, all this death makes me hungry."

Soifon stormed into the chamber a second late, zanpakutō glinting golden under the spotlights as black smoke festered where Aizen and Death once stood.

Outside, Seireitei was in chaos. Smoke billowed in the sky, amassing dark clouds full of toxins. Buildings, watchtowers and streets were reduced to craters, rubble and dirt. Shinigami clustered in and out of sight carrying away their casualties while the remaining commanding officers advised them to prepare for battle. News of Aizen's prison break spread like wildfire, every dodge they took closer to the edge of Seireitei brought more information to their ears, but there was no input on their location.

Everything was right in the world the closer they were to escape.

"Hey, asshole!"

Everything but the sound of that voice, he thought as he slowly whirled around midair.

Nagata came face to face with Tatsuki, except she had the glare of a harpy and the claws and brute strength to shred him to ribbons. Figuratively, of course. He leaned closer to Aizen, using a hand to shield his lips. "Why don't you knock her unconscious?"

Aizen arched an eyebrow, incredulous. "Are you giving me orders?"

Death smiled. "I'm making a suggestion, we don't need this kind of fury destroying our chances of escape," he said convincingly. "Besides, you've been cooped up in that hellhole for over a year, you need a bit of a work out."

In silent agreement, Aizen moved forward, noting the fear he once witnessed in the girl's eyes vanished and knew the courage could only belong to Honoka, the infamous spitfire. He gave her a mere moment of acknowledgment before appearing before her, a fist embedded deep in her stomach. She fell forward, spitting out saliva as the oxygen constricted in her lungs, and then was limp. He tossed her unconscious form over his shoulder.

Nagata caught her with ease, holding her slumped over his shoulder before pressing forward, laughing. "Newborns are rarely at their peak."

Aizen merely chuckled.

The rest of the trip was barren of assault. Nagata and Aizen were a mile away from walking out the front door without another hitch when the fun fact of the afternoon returned to bite him in the ass. He was as good as late to prepare dinner.

A blur of red and yellow intercepted their path, sharp blades at the ready—a sword for each of their enemies. Aizen let the jagged sword of Kuchiki's redheaded lieutenant sink deep into his forearm. Hirako's sword sliced through a couple strands of hair and left a thin scratch across his forehead, Nagata threw his head back in time to avoid it.

"Outta all the assholes that coulda escaped from prison, it had ta be you," snapped Hirako, glaring pointedly at his ex-lieutenant before returning his glower to Nagata's smiling face. "And you, don't think yer getting away this time."

"You are thousand years too young and stupid to be shouting threats," said Nagata, smile vanishing. "Take care of the redhead, immobilize him, kill him, I don't care."

"Gladly."

Nagata swept onto the nearest rooftop with Hirako in hot pursuit while Aizen's fight against the tattooed redhead blurred in his periphery. He dropped Tatsuki's body onto the tiled roof as Hirako prepared to name his zanpakutō, twisted around mid-air when the sword started glowing and directed his first hit to the blond's hands. His foot slammed hard into the hilt, causing Hirako to loosen his grip and lose his concentration.

Hirako detached a hand and swung hard, crushing his fist hard into Nagata's jaw. It throbbed all the way to his ear, but he barked out a laugh, taking the haori in his hands. He drew his head back, but he never had the chance to slam into his head full force like he had to that Kuchiki when the blade thrust into his side, twisting as if Hirako's intention was to carve his name over his insides.

Blood splattered across Hirako's robes.

"It should be a crime to be so vicious, captain," mocked Nagata, teeth bloody and dripping. "How's it feel to be three times a traitor?"

"I'm not tryin' ta destroy Soul Society!" retorted Hirako, feeling Death's cold touch on his face. "I'm defending it from scum like you!"

"And yet, scum like me still wins in the end—"

Crack!

Hirako's neck snapped and his body fell to the ground like a dead log.

"Captain Hirako!"

Nagata landed safely at Hirako's side, reaching to hoist his body onto his shoulder. On the other side, heaving his body out of a crater, a bruise-faced lieutenant nursed a broken arm to his chest, coughing blood onto the ground after shouting at his fellow superior. Aizen was facing in the opposite direction, completely disinterested.

"It seems the Captain-Commander plans to greet us," announced Aizen.

"Grab the girl!" ordered Nagata, but his panic stemmed from a sudden surge of energy reaching him from the human world. He sensed Touma was in trouble.

Aizen appeared by her side, picking her up and in the blink of an eye stood beside Nagata. "Why Hirako?"

"He's our new Fortune. Our old one died." Nagata watched the redhead struggle back onto his feet. "Well, we're in a bit of a pinch back home, we'll come back when we clear our schedules a bit," he declared. "We suggest you get stronger during that time, because this was more like a massacre than an invasion."

"Wait!"

And they were gone.


Happy Halloween~~!

xl note: If you don't celebrate Halloween, well, enjoy the random update. Many thanks to my lovely beta, LULuckyTiger, and the wonderful reviewers, reality deviant, animelover56348, ruler of dragons and Aries01xD for making my days better.

Chpt 29 preview should be up now. It's all about Keigo and Touma now. :)

I have two last chapters of Stories of Betrayal that will be released November 2nd and November 4th. I hope to bring you more lovely chapters throughout the month if possible!