Interlude
One month before the first Espada appears in the World of the Living, during/directly after Vizard training.
The tsunami loomed above them, casting both combatants into shadow. The collapsing of the pillars, the falling of the sky, these forerunners paled in comparison to this massive wave of destruction.
"Looks like we're out of time."
He could feel the mask beginning to crawl across his face, the chill of it making his spirit shudder in horror. It was wrong… so very wrong! He was Zanpakuto! Not Hollow. Never Hollow.
He reached up, every muscle tense, and grabbed the offending mask, growling as he struggled to rip it from his face. It finally tore away, and his growl became more of a cry as his spiritual pressure began to spike, purple energy rising around him.
I will not become a Hollow.
He gripped his Zanpakuto, a sword identical to the one that his master had used to channeled his power once upon a time, and shot off the collapsing pillar, under the approaching wave towards the pretend Shinigami.
Determination glinted in their eyes, teal green and deep brown alike.
The two clashed.
The wave descended over them both.
.
Muramasa!
.
He was sinking through the water, eyes closed. He called for me, and I did not hear. He needed me… and I did not come.
.
Muramasa!
.
He said he didn't need me, in the end. He cast me aside… he tried to kill me. He killed me… my own master killed me…
.
Muramasa!
.
It wasn't the voice he had been waiting to hear for all these years. It wasn't the voice he had wanted to have calling his name. But… even so…
How ironic… your voice reached me…
A hand reached through the cold water and clasped his wrist.
.
Muramasa opened his eyes. He was no longer in that inner world, this was the World of the Living. He was lying on his back on the island his master had been trapped on, where he had been stabbed by the very man he had tried so hard to save, where he had been left to die.
And a firm, warm hand still clasped his.
"Is this… the feeling of complete resonance between souls?" Muramasa whispered weakly, looking up at the Shinigami kneeling next to him.
"Yeah," replied Ichigo, voice wavering just the slightest but tone strong. Muramasa met his gaze, realizing how twisted his thoughts truly had been before.
"I've led Koga down a misguided path," he finally admitted, then coughed as the blood rose in his throat again.
"No one is perfect," Ichigo said firmly, his eyes compassionate, the glare he always wore directed at the situation rather then the dying Zanpakuto. "You just accept the situation, and fix what you can."
Weakly, Muramasa curled his limp fingers around Ichigo's grip, returning the clasp as best he could. His long fingernails clicked against each other. The movement seemed to surprise Ichigo.
"Someday…" Muramasa managed, a faint smiling making it to his lips even as he tried to choke back the blood. "I will…"
His hand lost the last of his strength, and Muramasa's eyes closed as he felt his fingers slipping through Ichigo's grip. He heard the boy that had tried to save him shifting, heard a slight gasp of breath. The world, his sense of the world around him, slowly faded away into blackness.
[Author's Note: Once again, I must sadly take my leave of the internet, so Backup Plan is going on hiatus, starting tomorrow. The next month is going to be even busier then my last hiatus, but I should be able to submit a few chapters from the 19th to about the 25th, but if not, I will return on August 10th. Thanks for your patience and understand!]