WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS UNECCESSARILY FOUL LANGUAGE. BLAME THE ENTITLE ROYALS.
A/N: Alright, with that out of the way...*squeal* And the Trial is about to start! God, I'm so excited for this part. There's gonna be some super cute stuff! This is the final part of the story, people! Woot!
Which brings me to my next point - the poll. To the twelve responders; THANK YOU! To the other 100+ people following this story; ...please help? I'm actually asking for real help here, as my muse for each of these stories individually waxes and wanes pretty irregularly. It's easier to write when I know I'm writing stuff that people are going to read, ya know?
And now...enjoy!
Her stomach twisted and flipped like a seasick dolphin. She swallowed hard, looking around the vast, grassy field with some trepidation from her place hovering in the stands. She could see the Royal Guard inspecting shinigami as they nervously picked their way through the open Chokaimon and filed into the smooth stone seating of the large arena, their Zanpakutou sealed into their sheaths with reiryoku-laced wire, their reiatsu restricted by several seals. On a high platform on the opposite side of the field, a thick wall of dense kido shielded the Royal Family, each of whom looked bored by the steady stream of shinigami trickling in to watch.
The Trial of Two Blades was about to begin.
Hitsugaya drew one knee up to the soft swell of her chest, resting her head on the protruding bone of her kneecap with a slow sigh. Behind her and slightly to her left was Aizen, clear-eyed and keen, observing the wide plain before them with only slight interest. Yuuma, who stood at his father's side, was taking up most of the former captain's attention. For the past week, the father-son pair had been nearly inseperable, trying to converse as much as they could in order to grow closer. It was touching to see them so animated, although the shadowy guilt that haunted Sosuke's gaze would likely never fade.
"Be calm, little one. You know who you are."
Hyourinmaru's thrumming purr swept a rush of icy wind through her, and she felt her anxiety still and blow away, the memory of her reflection in a mirror reassuring her beyond all words. Frost tinged her lips and skin, she knew, but she felt more serene than she had in ages.
From where he sat at Rukia's side in the stands below, Ichigo's gaze burned on her skin, the desperate belief, pride, and wavering fear in those deep brown eyes an unfaltering source of hope. Toushiko looked up, the brilliant coral of her painted mouth curling into a still smile, and met her boyfriend's blazing gaze for a moment. But then the dragon's slow rage boiled over in her heart, directed in a shade of furious winter at the high dais upon which the corrupt monarchy sat. She closed her eyes, emptying her mind of any distracting emotion, then with a swift, silent motion rose to her feet.
Almost immediately, the soft, nervous chatter echoing faintly around the arena ceased, and on the dais across the field, the King stood as well, his deeply tanned face and coal-black stare locking onto the icy young woman standing serenely before him. Hitsugaya held the dark glare steadily, unblinkingly, her eyes half-lidded with impressive blankness. Beside her, Aizen noted his liege's sudden stillness with understanding, his hand on the mirrored hilt of his Zanpakutou.
Eventually, the King looked away, unable to bear the yawning depths of the wise tranquility reflected in Toushiko's eye sockets.
From their seats in the stands, the Captains of the Gotei 13 observed this exchange with both surprise and no little pride. That the coiling aura of quiet power that Toushiko had so effortlessly projected was potent enough to even turn the Soul King's gaze was no small feat. Yamamoto, however, focused more upon the young woman herself, analyzing her face and expression with an experienced eye. Byakuya followed the old man's gaze and frowned, wondering what the Soutaicho saw in the young captain's calm expression.
"All those from the Divisions who wish to watch have passed through the Chokaimon, Yamamoto-soutaicho. We will be closing the portal immediately."
The interruption by Senjumaru Shutara's sibilant voice was neither welcome nor unwelcome, but Byakuya found that his attention was drawn to the Royal Guard anyhow. Her long, dark hair fell straight down her back in a single rippling sheet of inky strands, partially blocking Byakuya's view. But Yamamoto turned his creaky old head and nodded politely at her, throwing an irritated glance in Kurotsuchi's direction as the mad scientist stood up and sidled out of his seat.
"Thank you, Shutara-san." he replied, turning back to watch the arena and the white-haired girl he had favored for so long. But Byakuya watched Kurotsuchi as the mad scientist ambled over to the dias on which the Royal Family sat, tapping a wrapped, cylindrical package against the kido. The package, after a moment, passed through the barrier harmlessly and the Queen picked it up and passed it to her son with a bored sigh.
Byakuya blinked in puzzlement, unable to see the reason behind Kurotsuchi's delivery, but then the Division Twelve Captain strode back through the Chokaimon just before it closed behind him.
Kuchiki Byakuya felt a sudden chill descend upon his heart, though for the life of him he couldn't say why.
There was a thick silence as she stepped lightly down onto the plain-like arena field, her hair dancing unbound in the soft winter breeze behind her like a wild white streak of snow. A flicker of impossibly powerful magic thrummed soundlessly in the air about her, and slowly the intricate, Celtic-knot-like pattern began to twist through the empty space in front of her as the Deep-magic binding her to the Trial of Two Blades began to take hold.
The King and Queen of the Royal Family exchanged nervous glances as the unbreakable current of otherworldly power permeated the rich, full atmosphere of their realm and snaked towards them. Then the King stood, raising his hands with fire burning in his cold black eyes.
"The Royal Family bids their champion to step forward." he commanded, and the Deep-magic did the rest. Ribbons of light swirled around both the Crown Prince, who looked appropriately anxious, and the large black box he had strapped to his back, and without a shiver of hesitation the young man leapt through the barrier and descended gently down to the field. His dark hair stood on end, the worry in his black eyes focused with laserlike intensity, and Hitsugaya regarded him carefully.
Oshiro Katsuo was perhaps a few years older than her, physically speaking, and as such he was also taller and larger, his shoulders broad enough to comfortably shoulder the black object he carried. A plain sword hung at his side, the blade finely crafted but devoid of the telltale reiatsu which would have proved it to be a Zanpakutou. Toushiko realized with a sudden start that she knew very little of how the Royal Family - Yuuma excluded - fought. Yes, she knew they stole Zanpakutou for their own use. But, because that was possible, did they not have their own Zanpakutou spirits? Their reiatsu was potent enough to indicate otherwise, but sealing another Zanpakutou spirit into one's soulscape was a dangerous task by its own merit - let alone if another Zanpakutou spirit was already present. She knew at the very least that there was potent Deep-magic kept alive by the current of their bloodline, but she had no idea if they could use it as a weapon.
But it didn't matter anyhow, she supposed.
Hitsugaya flicked her gaze calmly away from the prince, instead turning a keen eye upon the two remaining royals sitting upon the platform with identically bored expressions. Toushiko gazed blankly up at them for a moment, then tipped her head to the side.
"You cannot win against me." she said at length, a sort of cool pity in the piercing jade of her stare. "But I thought at least the current Royal Family would have enough courage to send out their King to face me."
At that Katsuo snarled, the worry on his face melting away.
"The Reiou is too good for the likes of you." he spat, "You're lucky enough to be facing me in this battle."
Hitsugaya raised a slender eyebrow, lips quirking in a smirk.
"I am a queen in my own right, Oshiro-san." she breathed out, her voice soft. "I am an empress of my element and a queen of my Aspect by the value of my soul. My title is not based upon worthless, stolen power. I would say that, if we are comparing the value of your blood and mine, that I stand above you."
Up in the stands, Ichigo sucked in a breath, trying hard not to grin at the pointed savagery of his girlfriend's casual insults. The Oshiro family tried hard to quell their outrage, but the general snickers beginning to spread throughout the stands invalidated their anger. Rukia elbowed him sharply, her violet stare disapproving. The newfound chill that radiated off her hands was unmistakable - Hitsugaya's odd version of advice the previous week appeared to have done some good.
"Have some bearing." she hissed. "If Toushiko manages to pull this off, you'll be dating a queen."
Ichigo grinned down at the midget ice wielder, absently clasping a free hand around the glassy pendant he wore, which was now a swirling mix of black, deep red, and pale silver.
"Oh, come on." he said. "That's a step down for Shira, and you know it."
To his right, both Matsumoto and Hinamori shot him approving, knowing looks, clearly pleased by the compliment on the young woman's behalf. Matsumoto in particular seemed to approve, her blue eyes twinkling merrily beneath a crafty, match-making exterior shell.
On his left, however…
"Damn, Ichigo, I didn't know you had the capacity to be that smooth."
Renji's sardonic smirk clashed with his otherwise cheerful expression, and Ichigo glared at him with open annoyance.
"Why do you think I've got a girlfriend and you don't?" Ichigo shot back, lips twitching up in a grin as Renji's expression darkened with irritation, but then both boys fell as a pair of small fists smashed down on their heads.
"You two idiots!" Rukia screeched.
It took a moment for the three to quit with their senseless argument, but by the time they did the Aizens had approached, Yuuma first with his father close behind. Sousuke looked puzzled.
"Abarai-fukutaicho." he said, his voice wavering with uncertainty and no little sense of hesitancy. Renji's attention snapped onto the former traitor, his stance instinctively tensing, and Sousuke stopped a good distance away, aware of the lieutenant's hostility. Renji's glare was wary.
"What do you want?"
Aizen bit his lower lip, then sighed.
"You came over to greet these four, after they'd allied themselves with a woman plotting the overthrow of the Reiou." he noted, raising an eyebrow. "And yet nobody is even looking twice at you."
The meaning behind the former captain's words was understood almost instantly, and Renji relaxed a little bit, though his hand still toyed with Zabimaru's hilt. His tattooed brows knitted together.
"Yamamoto-soutaicho told everyone the truth of the Royal Family's repeated crimes in their quest for power." he said quietly. "I…I had no idea it was that bad. It caught almost everyone in Seireitei off guard. Ever since, most of the shinigami have been…sympathetic - to the point where they're covertly rooting for Hitsugaya-taicho."
Yuuma sprang forward, eyes wide.
"Then does everyone know about what happened to my Otou-san and…" he faltered, but Renji, understanding the boy's question and recognizing his connection with Aizen Sousuke with little extra thought, merely sighed.
"Yes." he said, a hint of an apology in his voice. His dark gaze drifted to rest challengingly upon Aizen's face. "It was the only way to move Hitsugaya-taicho's actions into the spectrum of 'justified' without creating a web of conspiracy theories and rumors larger than the one that already exists."
Sousuke winced visibly at that, then took a deep breath and steadied himself, his hazel glare burning a hole in the ground.
"I suppose that's for the best." he murmured after a long moment. "Hitsugaya-sama doesn't deserve the Gotei's ire because of me."
Renji stared, lost for words by this kinder, softer version of Aizen that so perfectly matched the one who was the Fifth Division Captain. Momo sidled up to the redheaded shinigami, her chocolate stare loosely tracking Aizen's movements.
"Weird, right?" she whispered, her voice low. "He's being totally genuine and it's been creeping me out for the past week."
Renji nodded, in a state of mild shock due to Aizen's devotion to the young woman still standing fearlessly down in the arena. Then he turned his attention fully to the ice-wraith down below, his throat tightening.
"It's starting."
The keen glint of crystal silver gleamed, Hyourinmaru's biting edge reflecting the chilled winter sun with a snap of shivering frost and ice. Toushiko stood motionlessly, Hyourinmaru's sheathed blade held before her in both hands. Katsuo faced her with a furious expression, but then glanced around at the full stands and raised his voice.
"Don't forget - I'm taking my prize from you the second you're defeated." he said, a smirk flickering over his pale face.
For the first time, the audience watching with bated breath saw a hint of stifled fear mix with the coldness on Hitsugaya's pretty face. She lifted Hyourinmaru's keen edge slightly, emerald glare flashing.
"I will not be defeated." she stated, her voice calm, but that brief spark of fear belied the underlying current of anxiety she felt, and Katsuo pressed his momentary advantage.
"Oh, you will be, you upstart whore." he snapped nastily. "And then I'll take you, as hard as I can until you're sobbing beneath me, and then, if you're a good bitch, maybe I'll forgive you for your arrogance."
The sheer amount of fury that passed across Ichigo's face registered just in time for both Renji and Rukia to pounce on the carrot-top. Ichigo thrashed in their grip, howling a string of obscenties at the prince with fury in his mocha glare, the Hollowifed dark fire of his reiatsu surging to twice the typical levels for captains.
"You son of a bitch; just wait until I get my fucking hands on you!" he shouted, trying to writhe free of his friends' grip in order to punch the disrespectful bastard's face in, but then a icy-calm command rang in the air.
"Ichigo, stop."
Toushiko's voice was no longer soft, but had curdled into something as chilling as a glacier, and as piercing at an icy winter gale. Her tone was still eerily calm, but dripped with treacherous wrath, ready at any time to explode into a blizzard of incomprehensible proportion. Something ancient and powerful, seething with slow bloodthirst, shone in her face.
"If you attack on my behalf, I will lose automatically." She said, the grating of shifting ice woven through her words. Then she smiled at the prince opposite her, and there was no kindness in her expression, only a dragon's awakening lust for battle. "Besides, I want my comeuppance."
Katsuo tensed unexpectedly, his mouth curled in a grimace, and drew his plain blade.
"You won't get it so easily." he warned, his voice low. The Deep-magic swirling between the pair ghosted lightly over the black box on his back, and he shivered, reaching for the cylinder wrapped in brown paper at his waist nervously. Hitsugaya's gaze flashed.
"We'll see about that." she sniffed, then stretched out an open hand and called out.
"I recognize thy champion and hereby declare the initiation of my challenge to thy family!" she cried, and the Deep-magic glowed brightly for a split second before vanishing with a puff of twinkling smoke. For a moment, nobody breathed, spoke, or blinked, spellbound by the momentary pause between the two fighters in the arena below, both of whom leveled their blades at each other with ferocity unmatched in their uneven gazes.
And then, in a blur of black and white streaked with deadly silver, both of them moved.
A/N: Please remember to review!
And to the lovely guest reviewer from last chapter who left the advice - Thank you! I can see what you're saying about the description sometimes being overbearing. However, I don't really write to get the reviews, though they are nice. For me, it's the quality of writing that matters more. And since I'm one of those rare few people who actually liked Moby Dick, *hides from legions of frustrated college kids who hate that book*my idea of good writing involves a lot of description. I hope it's not a total turn-off for those who enjoy a more action-oriented writing style.
That's all, folks!
~avtorSola