XXVII.

Ashes To Ashes

Dated: Gotei Thirteen Era Five

In the same way that a doctor cares for the sick

And a leader for his people

So, too, a Shinigami must care

For the souls of those who cannot care for themselves.

Never forget you duty. We know what comes after death.

Others are not so privileged.

That care is the true measure of honor.

- The Shinigami's Honor –

By Rande Tao, Taichou of the Twelfth Squad

Two days passed, with the slow ticking of the inevitable clock. To Urahara, it was as if he could feel the last days of life for all the people of the city had piled atop him like sand. He sighed in the heavy air.

Finally, on the night of the second day, the guardians of Karakura gathered at Urahara's shop.

"They should arrive tomorrow night." Urahara noted solemnly.

"When are we leaving?" Isshin asked. His children were still utterly confused as he held a hand on each of their shoulders, but neither said a word.

"You are leaving now. I'll stay behind and wait for Ichigo." Urahara muttered.

"Then we'll stay and help." Uryu Ishida muttered, gesturing to his father. "On our honor as Quincy…"

"No. You don't get it, do you? None of you have seen either of these men in a real fight, have you? You have no idea what's going to happen here… The last time these two men clashed, three hundred miles of city was leveled. Not a single person survived."

Eyes flashed wide, and jaws dropped. Urahara walked over to the door, and then pushed it wide open. One by one, the guardians of Karakura left the building.

Isshin, Karin, and Yuzu were the first to leave. The father held onto the shoulders of his two daughters as he left.

"Urahara… I want him back… don't let him fight."

Urahara merely nodded as Isshin left.

Ryukken left next, without so much as a word.

Urahara waited a moment, before turning slowly toward the remaining kids.

"We aren't ready to just give up yet." Renji muttered.

"You've fought for us well, kids. I won't lose you to him. Go out. Live your lives."

They left slowly, in a single line.

Finally, only Yoruichi and Urahara remained.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Urahara smiled.

"No." He pulled off his hat. "Take this. Make sure I get it back… and if I don't make it, give it to Ichigo."

She looked up at him.

"Why?"

"Because he was my greatest student. And because we might need him to finish our job."

Yoruichi smiled and leaned over, giving her friend a kiss. Then, in a blur she was gone.

Urahara smiled to himself as he walked into the back room of his shop. There, amongst all the goods and cardboard boxes lay a single steel crate.

With the greatest of care, he lifted it's lid, and withdrew it's contents.

Karite Ikatsue rose from his sitting pose. With a smile, he reached onto his back, and drew the longest of his blades. The others fell suddenly to the ground. He tore off his red and white robes, leaving him in his traditional black.

"Where ya' goin, Ikatsue?" Gin asked.

Ikatsue's smile reached all the way across his face, but it was not at all friendly. Rather, it was vicious and evil.

"I'm going out go… feed. I'll be back later."

"What happens if Urahara shows?"

"I'll kill him." Ikatsue muttered. He pulled open his robe to show his chest. The massive wound Yamamoto had given him was completely gone.

"What do you mean feed?"

The blade in the man's hand released, seemingly of it's own accord. Ikatsue laughed like a madman as he stabbed a rat that scampered along the floor.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

With that, he ran out the door.

"Now… If you want, you can go back to the house and get anything you want to keep. But hurry up. We'll be waiting out of the city, over there." He pointed to the top of a hill overlooking the city.

"Why are we leaving?"

"I'll explain later. Hurry up."

The two girls nodded, running off toward their home.

Karin turned, pausing to help her sister stand, as Yuzu slipped on the cement.

"Why do we have to leave?" The younger girl asked as tears streamed down here eyes.

"Be tough, for me. Please. Everything will be fine."

"Will it? I have to wonder. You are Kurosaki Ichigo's sisters?"

The two looked up. Over them loomed a huge man. He wore black robes. His eyes were concealed behind sunglasses. He carried in his hand a large scythe.

"Who are you?"

He glared down.

"Where is your brother?"

Karin ran up to the man, kicking him in the leg.

"Answer my question!"

The man laughed as he reached down picking the girl up by her throat and holding her at eyelevel.

"Fine. My name is Karite Ikatsue. Now… Has Kurosaki Ichigo returned yet?"

Karin glared at the man, kicking him with all her might. Her attacks bounced off like water.

"Is that all you've got? Fine. I suppose I have to make it look like you burnt to death…"

He held up an open palm toward Yuzu, who still lay on the ground. With the hand that held Karin, he turned her, letting her watch his action.

"What are you…?"

He laughed.

"Kidou One-Hundred Fifteen: Hellfire blast." He said, as nonchalantly as if he were offering the girl a biscuit.

A beam of black flame, tinged on the edges with red, shot out of his hand. It was far wider than Yuzu. In an instant, she was hidden in the middle of the blast.

Then it was gone, and only smoke remained.

"You… No! She's not dead!"

"What's wrong? Can't accept it?" He laughed, bearing his iron fist down on her throat.

Slowly, Karin felt the last bit of air squeeze it's way free of her lungs.

Ikatsue laughed, tossing the girl into the air. At first, Karin thought she would fly free, but Ikatsue caught her foot. With all his strength, he brought her head down onto the cement like a hammer. Around him, in a circle easily a hundred yards across, cement cracked and buildings crashed down. The only trace of Karin's body above her waist was a sickening red stain on the shattered pavement. Her sister's body remained more, a few bits of blackened muscle clinging desperately to the bone they didn't realize was already dead.

The Vizard gathered together for what they all knew would be the last time. They wouldn't all make it out of the battle. That much was clear.

"Are we all prepared?" Hiyori asked, more to herself than the group.

They each nodded, one after another.

"Let's go."

Ikatsue stood in the center of the town square, smiling to himself. He felt much better, having eaten. This time, however, he wouldn't just eat his fill. He'd save a little extra for Yamamoto to strip of him when they fought.

He lifted his hands, palms up, toward the sky, looking to the entire world like the orchestra conductor of the damned. Two onyx-black spheres, each about a hand's width across, appeared on his palms.

He closed his eyes, and lifted his hands, providing a crescendo for his silent but rising concerto the soon-to-die.

With an almost sinister twitching flight, the balls shot off. Ikatsue sat down to enjoy the music of the screams of his prey. Around him, men, women, and children howled in pain. To him, the music behind the death was utterly beautiful.

Then, only a few minutes later, the two balls returned, and Ikatsue knew that all of Karakura was dead. With a relaxing sigh, he tossed both balls into his mouth, and swallowed them down like pills.

With a laugh, he released his reiatsu. Around him, skyscrapers crumpled like tin cans. Although he couldn't see it, the horrible cracking break told him that the same was true for all of Karakura. Where once there had been a beautiful city, now only a massive ruin of twisted steel and a few thousand bloody corpses remained.

Looking over the now-leveled city, he lifted an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Who could possibly have survived?" He muttered to himself, staring at the strange warehouse which had managed to remain standing as all the other buildings fell.

"Well, fucking well… If it isn't Kensei. Who are these… people…?" He said the word without really meaning it. "…you've got?"

The group turned as one. There was a very, very clear rasping of the drawing of blades, and all eight came as one. Eight masks appeared in the air, and were donned without shame.

"You will pay for what you have done here today, Ikatsue!"

"You were a great Taichou once, Kensei. I don't really want to kill you. How about this – you let me kill the rest of them, and you can leave, free as a bird. You can even take one with you. . ." He glanced quickly across their faces. It entertained him to see the hatred in their eyes. "She's a nice one." He muttered, nodding toward Lisa.

That comment destroyed every last shred of control in Kensei. In that moment, his blade released, without as much as a thought. Two balls of glowing, crackling reiatsu covered his fists. His lung was far too fast for even Ikatsue's eyes to follow.

A few drops of blood fell as Ikatsue's headless body fell to the ground. The head was simply gone.

"You were one of his Taichou!" Hiyori shouted.

He turned. "Yeah…" He scratched his head for a moment.

Then, a small smile creaked its way across his face (although his mask concealed it). With a single fluid motion, he spun, fell to a knee to duck under the spinning scythe, and rammed his right hand through Ikatsue's chest.

The Reaper laughed.

"You've been practicing. Very… very… good." This time, he didn't even bother falling over when he died.

Shinji hopped forward, lopping off the man's head before he could regenerate the gaping hole in his chest. "After all the crap you said about the Gotei… Who'd have thought you were one of them?"

"Look… I'd already screwed them over when I joined you guys." Kensei muttered in response.

Ikatsue ducked backwards from another blow from Kensei, only to land on Love's sword.

Hiyori jumped forward, dropping a heavy foot on Kensei's head.

"You bastard." She shouted.

"Sorry, all right… now can we please kick his ass? You can all beat on me later."

The few remaining Vizard joined the fray.

Ikatsue rose again.

"Eight on one… hardly fair odds."

Kensei laughed. "I'll have Shinji sit it out then, Sensei."

Another blow again removed Ikatsue's head. When it regenerated, his first words were "But that would only make it worse." His smile was vicious as the cold steel of Zantetsuken pierced skin. Slowly, the Vizard known as Love fell into a pile of ashes.

"Ashes to ashes…"

Kensei's next blow met Ikatsue's hand. As if unhindered, it went straight through the palm, entering the man's chest.

"You know this is futile, don't you, Kensei?" Ikatsue asked, ramming his fingers into the man's side.

"If I kill you enough…" He gasped, as blood filled his pierced lung.

"Then what? What could you possibly do against me? Even if you could kill me one hundred times… then what? You will eventually grow tired. I don't even have to fight to kill you. You'll work yourself to the verge of death, and then it won't even be a battle. You're pitiful, Kensei. I should have killed you a thousand years ago."

Ikatsue laughed with pride as blade after blade rammed into his chest. He didn't care even the slightest bit as he died, again and again without end.

Then his face broke into an even wider smile as the group drew back.

One by one, they opened their mouths, and began to utter releases. The enormous scythe flickered slightly. Blood dripped onto the floor, along with dust.

Not a single one finished before they died. Only Kensei was spared.

"Now… come on. Show me that you still know what I taught you."

A clatter of steel on stone echoed over the open warehouse as Zantetsuken rattled against the ground. Ikatsue tore off the top half of his black robes. The tattered cloth fell at his feet. His sunglasses shattered on the ground a moment later.

"You were once the second-greatest martial artist in the world… You could have beaten me then… can you still do it?"

Kensei screamed in fury, dashing forward. Two balls of light exploded in his fists. His eyes ignited in deep green flame.

Ikatsue slid across the stone floor, his steel toed boots grating against the rock. Kensei followed his movements perfectly, molding his motions around Ikatsue's spins, ducks, and other various attempts to dodge. Blow after blow were landed, each ending in a shower of flesh and blood flying off of Ikatsue's body. He didn't attack back, even once.

For hours upon hours, the blows were exchanged. Finally, Kensei's blows began to slow.

A fist flew for Ikatsue's face.

The Reaper caught the ex-Taichou's wrist a few inches from his face.

"You're tiring. I was right. Deep down, you're still human. You still value your precious morality… your conscience… and all the other scum that ties you to your endless weakness… goodbye, Kensei."

Ikatsue lifted his free right hand in a fist over his left shoulder.

With a single swipe, his open palm appeared over Kensei's left shoulder. The man's severed head fell a few moments later.

Ikatsue let the body fade. He had been a great warrior, once. He would spare him worst fate, at least. With a sigh of memory, he walked away from the blood stained, ash strewn warehouse.

The portal opened slowly. Yamamoto and Ichigo set their feet down on the cold, dusty ground of the massive underground room.

"Finally made it?" Urahara asked. Ichigo gasped when he saw him, but Yamamoto only smiled.

The shopkeeper wore the his white Taichou robe. Underneath, his chest was covered in a sheet of shining, black armor that seemed to be made of stone rather than metal. Over his shoulders, on his waist, and across his chest in the shape of a cross was a black metal harness, with steel rivets. From it hung more than fifty wood and steel guns.

"So… Kisuke, the Wind in the Night strikes again?" Yamamoto smiled, drawing his sword. "Until we meet again…"

Ichigo could just make out the dull thud as the wooden door clicked shut, easily half a mile away.

"Now what?"

"I'll take you to your father, Ichigo. Go into Bankai."

"What?" He asked.

Ignoring the question, Urahara placed his hands, palm against palm. Ichigo felt the reiatsu build, far beyond what he had ever sensed from the man. The armor on his chest was suddenly covered in a veil of wind.

Without further prodding, Ichigo released his Bankai.

Urahara nodded. "Try to keep up."