Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Author's note: I assume readers have read Save Me, Kuchiki in this chapter. And sorry this took a while - between a new project at work and a new baby at home, I've been busy. :) [And a reminder - the Kuchiki Salvation Trilogy and Blades of Epsilon diverge from canon during the middle of the Soutaicho's fight against Aizen.]


"When I caught up to her, I could see her pain. She was suffering so badly. It was tragic - it manifested itself in sadism; an unconscious desire to push all that darkness out so that if the whole world felt worse than she did, she wouldn't feel like she lost as much as she did. And I could just tell; I could just tell that all she wanted was someone to tell her that she could be saved. That she hadn't sacrificed her soul yet - that she could still find it. When he spoke to me, his heart told me the obvious: that he wanted to be her hero; to give her what she had so much trouble finding - trust and comfort, and maybe even love; although I don't think he knew that himself.

"He was hurting, too. He didn't want to see her like that; revelling in blood and dancing with death's specter. I have to tell you, it wasn't about him. It wasn't because he was scared - which he was. It wasn't that he wanted to find her so that he could have her to himself. He was far more pure than that - he just didn't want her to suffer alone. He was definitely the saint we expected, no doubt about it. So I did the obvious thing - I let them heal with each other when they needed it most.

"Well, of course I could have just fought myself and leave them out of it, but I wanted to go out of my way to do something nice for them. Why? ...um... ah, ur - I... because... because... Uh, if you don't mind, I don't want to answer that question."

~Chief Sergeant Hikifine-Shiba Miyako of the 8th Handoshi Legion; explaining her actions to her superior officer, Hajimata Percival, at the debriefing session after the Battle of Kathura

"As if any of us could compete with that. Ugh. Hell sucks."
~Argimus Lethicus Haupt, Colonel of the 10th Handoshi Legion; speaking in confidence to his friend, 4th Legion Handoshi Colonel Arthur S. Tomaninyre

"There are many reasons that infusing a human with shinigami powers is a crime. But the most obvious is that power inspires man to believe he is all too much more than just a simple man."
~The next captain-commander of the Gotei 13, Ukitake Jushiro, sometime in the future


Hana Tsubaki gazed down the throat of death that would mark her grave as the blast of flame began to roar out - only to be stifled by a sharp jetstream of ice thrust down the back of the dragon's mouth.

Startled by the sudden rushing figure that seized her, she barely had enough wits to keep hold of her zanpakutou tightly enough to pull it out of the roof of the dragon's mouth. Touching down on the ground, she was relieved to be on solid earth again. "Thanks," she sighed in relief with a smile. It's nice to not have to die. "When did you get here?"

"A minute ago," Hitsugaya Toshiro answered, throwing up another Hyouryuu Senbi at the dragon's face; blinding it in blockade of ice. "I had an errand to run first."

"An errand?"

"Ah. Reinforcements," he explained, and then dashed off in a hurry.

It was then that all participants on the battlefield knew that the tide would turn as the immense, air-sucking power call riveted through the air:

"GEEEEETSUUUGGAAAA TEEENNNNSHOOOUUUU!"

A bankai-enabled, hollow-masked Kurosaki Ichigo cut loose an enormous band of black energy that pulsated red as it cut through the dragon's massive torso, tearing it in half. The dracosaurus was fatally wounded; its insides and life fluid gushing out like a crimson tide; soaking the hundreds of handoshi soldiers who had been trying to beat it back.

Kurosaki flickered next to them with Onmitsukido-worthy speed. "Where's Rukia?"

Tsubaki pointed off in the distance. "Healing others."

"Thanks," Ichigo nodded, and vanished like a Covert Ops leader under the cover of nightfall.

"Aw damnit," Kurosaki Karin muttered as her shunpo landed her next to Tsubaki. "Where did Ichi-nii go? - Oi, hi, Tsubaki-chan."

"Good to see you," Tsubaki smiled with a cheery wave. "Come to join the party?"

"Meh," Karin shrugged. "Toshiro-kun brought us. Somebody's gotta keep Ichi-nii from wrecking the place."

Tsubaki laughed, but then a blast of reiatsu flew past them. It felt like shards of hot broken glass and shattered crystal; clear and searing. It was intense and strong; exceedingly pure and distilled; with a taste like perfected liquor over ice. The three shinigami looked over to where Ise, Kotetsu, Shiba, and Banzo were; all of them were staring up to the sky.

"No - !" Hana gasped. More dragons? Flying dragons? They're huge! It can't be!

"That can't be good," Karin understated.

"Hurry!" Hana urged, and she guided Karin back towards the four women staring up at the oncoming storm.

-:-

"So did you bring your zanpakutou?"

"Actually, I did."

"May I see it?"

For most people, this would have been an unusual question to ask. Considering that Adame's profession was the manufacture of asauchis to become zanpakutou, it was less of an intrusive matter and more of an opportunity to demonstrate that he could indeed speak on matters of his livelihood. "But of course," she replied, withdrawing Shiji and leaving it on the table.

Adame was very careful not to touch it as he inspected it up close. Even though he did not have one of his own (he wasn't a shinigami), he knew that it was considered extremely rude to handle someone else's zanpakutou. "Brass blade, bronze crossguard, and steel shell hilt around the brass tang. Leather hilt wrappings with brown chord; seems to be sheepskin and wool. Perhaps the chord is a wool/cotton blend, I cannot tell without a magnifying glass."

"And what insights can you extract from your observations, O Master Blacksmith?" she teased.

"More like Chief Tailor," he chuckled. "Let's see," he began, his brow tilted into a mock academic gesture. "A brass blade - strong, bold. Full of purpose. Focus on function over form, although still retaining an intent to show the world you are proud of what you are, the way you are."

"Do tell," Ichihime encouraged. "What other palm readings can you derive?"

"Are you mocking me, milady?" he asked in amused sarcasm.

"Of course not, I would never dream of it," she laughed, depositing a piece of steamed edamame in her mouth.

"Ah, very well then, onwards," he continued smoothly, his charisma capturing every corner of her attention. "A bronze guard - firm, steadfast. You will defend your beliefs and you will not let the barbs of others tilt your hand. Steel hilt shell - steel, an undifferentiated metal. A steel shell to hold the tang of your blade, to show that you prefer the world to see you as one of them rather than overfocus on your identity."

"My, aren't we insightful," Ichihime snickered, impressed.

Adame took it in stride as he continued. "Thank you, Banzo-no-kimi. Sheepskin wrappings with chord, because you are an earthy person. Your head is never in the clouds. You prefer concrete over the abstract. Am I right?"

"Indeed you are," she smiled. "But you have forgotten the most crucial detail of all."

"Did I? And which is that?"

"Of all blades, why a tanto? Is it not customary for nobles to wield longer weapons, such as a katana or even a nodachi?"

"Oh, that one is easy," he said, sitting up and no longer inspecting the weapon closely. "So easy I did not even think to mention it."

"Is that so?" she asked, her eyes unconsciously half-closing in a subtle display of sexuality. "Pray tell, what is that?"

He leaned closer and whispered across the table. "It speaks of a desire to be close, to engage with another. To see for yourself, to know; to be known. You are not content to remain distant from those you meet. Your true desire, Banzo Ichihime-sama, is to feel another's soul, to love or be loved, to touch one's heart and show them your own."

...Ichihime held her ground under the unrelenting barrage of Getsuga Tenshous. Shiba Isshashine was not going to give her one inch to move. She was stuck, shielded behind her shikai; any attempt to throw it would leave her unarmed. Cover was not an option - the moon fangs tore right through the rock in Urahara's underground training facility. She had been amazed that Shiji could survive these blasts when they could tear through mountains, but so far her shikai had held.

But not without complaining. Hey, Hime-sama! Can't you haul your lazy ass up and out of here? This hurts!

Shaddup, you little piss-drinker! Give me bankai and then I can get out of this mess!

What the hell do you know about bankai? Shiji retorted. Hell, what do I know about bankai? I'm just a dumb knife!

Yeah, well now you're a dumb exploding boomerang! Do something, you little shit!

Fuck you, Hime-sama! You stand under the torrent of moonslicers I'm taking, you wannabe poser!

Who are you calling a poser, you fake demon! You're not even an Oni! You're a stupid yellow-bellied leathery chibi-gargoyle with a beak that's uglier than a toucan with a sinus infection!

Toucans don't get sinus infections!

YOU FUCKTARD, GIVE ME BANKAI!

YOU MULE-STUBBORN ASS-DENYING POSER LOSER PRINCESS-I-DON'T-WANT-TO-BE-ANYTHING LOVE-STARVED PIECE OF MORONIC IDIOCY: NO!

The next hit buckled in her hands, and Ichihime's human-sized boomerang shikai was knocked loose and Ichihime found herself getting hit with a partially-blocked GT to the face. It threw her back nearly three hundred feet and slammed her straight through a rocky spire, the mountain's compacted rock shattering into boulders as she went through it. It hurt like a steamroller had driven over her one inch at a time; but she had no choice but to react quickly. The next GT was coming at her, and if she didn't move, she was a goner. No matter how much she didn't want to move, her resolve was stronger: she couldn't learn bankai on her deathbed.

With a dextrous, agile twirl, Ichihime jack-knifed herself to her feet with a full-force handspring that brought her up in a twintail spin. Her singed braid, platinum blond and tied tightly and majestically by Yachiru's skilled fingers, swung so hard around that it whipped her in the face. It stung her pride more than her skin, but it didn't matter; as clumsy as it looked it to get smacked in the face with her own hair, her own acrobatics had nimbled her past a chain of GTs that would have otherwise carved her up.

"Say, I... I was thinking about something lately."

"What?"

"...You know what you said about... about why I have a tanto?"

For a moment, Adame seemed uncharacteristically thrown off track. "Pardon?"

"About why I have a tanto," she explained, "instead of a katana, like most nobles."

Adame was a flirt, so he scrambled for a moment to recall precisely what it was that he had said; but he remembered the basic thrust of his remarks. "What about it?"

"...Nevermind," Ichihime dismissed, embarassed. "...Sorry, I was just thinking about it lately, that's all."

"Did something happen?" he asked, concerned.

"...Lots of little things," Ichihime answered evasively. "Good things, I think... They just made me think about what you said."

" 'To be close; to love, and to be loved'?" Adame paraphrased himself with amusement. "Ready for a confession so soon?"

Ichihime snorted. "Don't let your head swell," she replied with a happy smirk. "I'll see you soon."

...On the run now, Ichihime handsprung in rapid succession, too tired to use shunpo but too juiced up on adrenaline to not use every last acrobatic twist in her repertoire. When her momentum stalled, she landed on her feet and dove into a small ravine. It was only a second's reprieve - Shiba could either cut into the ravine's gorge with a few successive moon fangs, or simply flash into a position in which he would be gazing down the ravine's path. She suspected that he would do the latter, and on a gamble, hurled Shiji with all her might towards the opening.

Sure enough, her tactical assumptions had been correct - Shiba had opted to move towards the mouth of the tear in the rocky floor. It was her first successful attack of the evening - well, a physical one anyway. Her verbal assaults had already struck hard, but they don't really stop the Getsuga Tenshou spamming very much.

It may have been a successfully launched attack, but it didn't even come close to having any sort of payoff. With the skill of a former Royal Guard member, Kurosaki Isshin simply plucked the boomerang straight out of the air with his free hand.

The touch seared Ichihime's soul - her former fiance, the man who jilted her and left her as damaged goods, was holding her soul in his fist. It was the most intimate moment she had ever shared with him - quite possibly the only one. Dating amongst Four Houses nobles was not usually anything like the independent, unsupervised, chemistry-fueled outings she had with Adame. They were strict, emotionless business affairs about suitable matchmaking and preserving the noble line, conducted very formally under the authority of parents or House elders. She had dated Kurosaki Sr. a few times, and on those occasions they had seemed to be a good match - they had complimentary personalities (at least back then) and she had thought he was modestly handsome. Considering her own offensive appearance - something that had frightened away many suitors - she had seen herself as immensely fortunate to be arranged with someone whom she did not find sexually repulsive.

Yet, these heavily supervised occasions under her father's watchful eyes were always devoid of true connection. They were always staged. Ichihime was dressed up; bandied about in a fancy, royal kimono that was far prettier to look at than the face that sat atop it. She was told beforehand to be only the most polite and most self-effacing she could be, to present herself as the ultimate in slavishly-loyal devotion to her future husband. At the time, Ichihime had sincerely wanted to prove to Shiba Isshashine that, with all her physical repugnance, she would make an excellent wife. It was the ultimate test of personality suppression - Ichihime would never have been as submissive as those meetings would have implied; but it was her noble duty to fall in line. Make babies and satisfy said husband - including his ego and need for superiority.

Anything to make her father happy, she remembered. Anything to earn her father's approval. At that time, Banzo Tanabi had still been a half-decent man; and Ichihime had still been young and naive enough to never critically evaluate him. He had always loved and cared for his only daughter and had always wanted her to be well-taken care of. A marriage with the elitist-of-elite Shiba Head of House, sitting directly under the Spirit King's throne in the Royal Guard, was surely the best he could do for her. But Tanabi had still been an asshole, even back then - enough to make Shiba Isshashine break his promise to Tanabi's father, Banzo Jirobu, and leave Ichihime known as damaged goods to the rest of the noble class. From then on, Ichihime hated both of them; both her father and that Shiba Head of House who had been derelict in his duty. A black, caustic hatred that she only learned to let go of ten years ago when her father finally died.

Now, the man who destroyed her held her heart in his hand - he could feel everything inside her. Her fears, her loathing, her ambition, her pride, her sorrows, her joys, her confidences and her emotional weaknesses. In that hand of his - the one who could have loved her - she felt more intensely vulnerable than anything she had ever felt before.

He had destroyed her. Demolished her. Broken her. Now, in his hand, he had the power to do so again.

"To be close; to know and to be known. Your true desire, Banzo Ichihime-sama, is to feel another's soul, to love or be loved, to touch one's heart and show them your own." Those had been Adame's words; and at the time they had felt so insightful.

If that's the case, my precious Adame-kun, then... Then why? Why is my shikai a boomerang - something you throw at someone from far away?

Angry, defiant tears came to Ichihime's eyes. She was trapped. Stuck in a tactical position with no outs - low ground, trapped in a ravine on both sides, staring up at the man who devastated her. With one swipe of his katana in his right hand, he could send her to sleep with her dead disgraceful father. In his left hand, he had access to every piece of information he would ever need to humiliate her, to mock her, to break her all over again. He could not just defeat her - he could trounce her, stomp her, burn her. He now held in his hands the power to wreck her both physically and emotionally. She was a victim to him once again.

A victim once agai-

No, Ichihime decided.

No.

No, this cannot be.

I cannot be. This is not who I am.

I am not a victim. I will not be a victim.

Her whole world turned upside down. Maybe - maybe... Maybe - - -

...Maybe Adame-kun was wrong?

To be close...

"You feel it, don't you?" Kurosaki challenged her. He could feel it, too. He could feel her vacillation in his hand. Not indecision, not confusion - realization. Realizing that everything you believe is wrong.

...Not to be close. I don't wield a tanto because I want to engage, because I want to be close.

My zanpakutou is short because it always feels like it has to fight close to home.

"Dawn rises," Shiba smirked, citing the hour outside the basement that neither of them could see. "Will you rise with it?"

The power began to well in her chest as she gazed up at her soul - a boomerang that was seized in her oppressor's hand. A boomerang flies free, but then it always comes home. It is never brave enough to leave and never come back - the fight always returns close to home. The pain is always close to home. The freedom - it is elusive. I can't ever let go.

I can't ever let go. The pain always comes back.

I need to let go.

I need to fly free.

No - even more than that.

I need to believe that the conflict doesn't need to sit inside. The fight doesn't have to be inside my head, or heart, or soul.

And then the revolutionary thought punched Ichihime in the brainstem as a burst of energy began to flow from her soulcore.

I am a shinigami, I am a princess, I am me; and none of them are first, second. I am all that I am - I am who I am. I am proud, strong, resolute - because I am all that I am, and that is all I need to be. I need to fly free.

"Almost," Isshin smiled patronizingly. It pissed Ichihime off to no end. "Almost there, girl."

The smirk came to Ichihime's face as she could feel it coming. "I'm not a girl," she whispered to herself. "I'm a woman."

And I can love myself.

Kurosaki Isshin, secretly relieved that her inner monologue had kept her from detonating her shikai right in his face, burst into laughter and threw the boomerang back to its owner with a confident swagger. "Now you're ready."

-:-

"Bankai, Burning Oni - Shiji Screaming Through the Glass Cannon."

The circular out-bursting of the pure crystal-like reishi was so devoid of impurity that it penetrated through every figure on the battlefield like an ultrasound. Isane, Nanao, Kuukaku, Karin, and Tsubaki were immediately raptured by the platinum-haired princess. Shinigami, handoshi, and dragons far above them all stared at the awesomely powerful captain who radiated light like fire-stoked glass.

Shiba Kuukaku was beyond surprised. "Is... is... is that your bankai?"

Isane blinked stupidly. "It doesn't look very much like a bankai..." she accidentally uttered out loud.

"Tch," Ichihime chortled with an amused sneer. "I wouldn't talk, Kotetsu. Pretty soon, we'll be saying the same thing about yours."

"M-m-me? B-b-bankai?" Isane stuttered. Impossible. (The materialized Itegumo, who had been standing next to her this entire time, nodded vigorously in agreement. Despite her own denial, Isane was a little peeved by his excessive enthusiasm.)

Even Nanao was puzzled. In her left hand, Banzo-sama appeared to be holding a handgun. If Kurosaki Karin had stopped to marvel, she would have described it as similar to a traditional compact stainless-steel model-1911 Sig Sauer pistol. Etched in its bright, reflective barrel was the Ancient Language, the characters sounding out the English word "Ivory". In her right hand, Banzo had another gun with similar etching (Nanao assumed it said "Ebony" but couldn't read it because the barrel was carbon black). It was larger and vaguely resembled a Heckler & Koch SP89 with a large scope attached. Someone who knew something about guns would guess that it looked like a submachine gun. To most, it would strike them as rather ugly - pug-nosed and short-stocked - yet for some reason, it looked at place in her hand. That was what confused Nanao the most - most people would never even dream of operating a submachine gun with one hand. Of course, appearances could be deceiving. Maybe it wasn't a submachine gun at all. If there was one thing Nanao knew well, it was that bankais were never easy to explain.

Ichihime raised Ivory to the sky and pointed it at the monstrous flying beast that was leading the storm. Its ferocious gaze bore down on her and it roared, its bellicose voice shuddering the earth.

Bullseye, Ichihime smirked, and with perfect aim of the steel-barreled pistol, she pulled the trigger.

-:-

"Rukia!"

Rukia looked up to see Ichigo darting over. Her face lit up, happy to see him. He must have been worried.

"Are you okay?" Ichigo asked immediately. To him, she looked exhausted but not much worse for wear. Hisagi Shuuhei and Kotetsu Kiyone were under her medical care, and they both looked gruesomely awful by comparison. Hinamori was also on the ground, unconscious. She was covered in blood and splattered gore, but it didn't seem to be her own. The fact that no one was concerning themselves with her care led Ichigo to believe that she was probably okay. A man and a woman - both with white hair and tattered gray cloaks - were standing with their backs to them just past Hinamori; the woman seemed occupied somehow but the man did not. Had Hinamori been in danger, one of them likely would have been tending to her, he hoped. Ichigo didn't know where the rest of the reinforcements were, but at the moment, he didn't care. As long as Rukia was okay.

Rukia nodded, but didn't answer verbally. She was still reciting a medical incantation and didn't want to stop unless absolutely necessary. Hisagi-kun and Kotetsu were both on the brink of life and death - closer to the life side but not by much - and she was busy repairing soulcore damage. She couldn't afford to screw up.

Ichigo was relieved to see her. "Thank goodness you're alright. What's going on?"

The ghostly man, who was bearing an enormous medieval shield, turned to him. "We wait," Hajimata Percival answered.

"Wait? But - "

Hajimata gestured to him calmly, and Ichigo turned to see two men fighting just beyond their circle. He also saw that the woman on the opposite side of Hinamori - the one who was facing the battle - was standing perfectly still, but her sword was withdrawn. It was a perfectly clear katana - the blade was made out of crystal, glass, or diamond; Ichigo guessed the latter but couldn't be sure. It looked surprisingly familiar, but Ichigo couldn't place how he recognized it. "You'll ruin her concentration," the man standing next to her said quietly, nodding over to the woman. Ichigo could only see that, from behind, her long white hair was styled in a familiar partial-pullback; but he couldn't recall where he'd seen it before.

Ichigo looked to Rukia, whose eyes were suddenly worried with some newfound realization. "What is it?"

Rukia shook her head. Just sit tight, Ichigo, she thought. What a crappy time for uncomfortable reunions.

-:-

Morgan pulled left, and Q's katana whizzed past. He dashed up and swung Momo's Soul in an unskilled crosscut; hoping to catch the opening - but Q backswung to block. For the most part, Morgan was outclassed. Q was much more proficient in swords than he was - although for the most part, Momo's Soul had promised him well. Her zanpakutou worked around his clumsiness, guiding his mind to strike or swing, when to block or parry. It was all an unconscious influence that both soothed and unnerved him at the same time. It was only when he could feel Momo inside his heart - dressed in full miko shrine maiden uniform, with her bell sleeves chiming - that he was able to focus. He could feel her swing; her shift, her footwork, her sixth sense. Through her sword, she told him what to do; he listened and served as her messenger.

A backhanded slash from Q came down hard, and Morgan struggled to avoid getting knocked back. Momo's sense guided him to twist the weight in his hips, and he did so; it gave him a subtle leverage point that allowed him to finally throw Q off. Jab, then flick, then swipe up, diagonal down, she commanded him; and as the dark pollutionary force in the cruel blade receded more and more, he began to feel a flow course through his veins.

With fluid, liquid motion, Morgan began to attack again. Cross, down, front snap kick to take the initiative; samurai slice to the shoulder, blocked by Q but a pull back and try for the other side kept Morgan at it. He felt the spirit build in his chest and Momo's bold encouragement brighten in his heart - and he began to understand.

I need you, and you need me, Momo-san.

I... I do, Morgan. I... I do.

His sudden ability to telepathically hear her precious voice gave him a surge of wind, and Q was now on the defensive as Morgan struck with increasing speed. Q was forced to block a hard-to-avoid waist slash from an increasingly determined Morgan, and Q grimaced as he could see a light burning behind Morgan's eyes. They glowed bright as though they were backlit, the black of his pupils shining a bright glowing blue. He tried to understand: something was not right. Someone was helping him.

With a shove and another kick, Q put some space between them, and over Morgan's shoulder, Q saw the source of his trouble. That damn ghost, he swore. She's helping him! Kicking some dirt up into Morgan's face, Q dashed diagonally around him, aiming to disrupt the ghost's concentration. She's creating some sort of mindlink, Q reasoned. It's the only possible explanation.

Hajimata saw it coming, and his hand pushed the orange-haired man behind him on the chest - a signal to remind him not to interfere. Then he lunged to put his shield between the human and his Chief Sergeant. Indeed, Q's zanpakutou was aimed to cut into Miyako's face, but she was saved - not by Hajimata's iron wall of defense, though. Rather, Miyako was spared the blow by a fireball that hit Q square in the head, blowing him off of his trajectory. It was weak and no bigger than the size of a golf ball, but it packed a punch and was enough to make him miss even the Handoshi shield bearer badly. Q was knocked off balance and stumbled, falling to the ground to the left of the shield bearer, his swing wide and clumsy.

Scurrying to his feet, Q turned to the source of the flaming projectile - and then gazed at his adversary with even more intense loathing than before. A defiant Morgan held the katana at arm's length, its tip smoking. "I's hads enuff o' yoos," Morgan threatened. "Yerr quarrel's wit me, yoos punk."

Q's face scrunched in vibrant anger. "Tobiume," he grimaced. I thought I had ripped that little rotten shit straight out of that blade, he thought. Damn persistent bitch!

"Whatevva," Morgan smiled, his trademark southern charisma exaggerated on his chin. "Yoos gots ta take me down firrst, Kwennt."

"I fucking hate that name, you douche bag!" Q roared, charging. He struck low, forcing Morgan to jump. He did as expected, and Q used it as a perfect opportunity to uppercut Morgan straight into the jaw, sending him reeling. Morgan landed hard on the flat of his back, knocking the wind out of him; but an unconscious signal from Momo raised Their Sword to block the strike.

Q's face was purple with fuming rage; the veins on his forehead pulsated with indignation. He kicked Morgan hard in the wrist to collapse this last line of defense, and then raised his katana in a hammerfist strike, preparing to cleave Morgan's skull open - but the sword came down against an interjected nodachi, and Q found himself staring eye-to-eye with a pissed-off white-haired brat. "Who the fuck are you, runt?"

Hitsugaya Toshiro's reishi burst out in flare so cold that it felt like a blizzard had erupted from his skin. "10th Division Captain, Hitsugaya Toshiro."

Q struggled to push down against this new adversary, but the kid was infinitely stronger then his appearance. He held Q at bay as though Q's katana was no more deadly than a piece of straw. "The Ten of Spades? You're a bitchin' kid? Since when do they send sixth graders as reinforcements?" he sneered.

Hitsugaya flicked Hyorinmaru hard, hurling Q off of him like he was a sack of wormy turnips. The burning disdain, anger, and ferocious violence that seared in Toshiro's eyes stared across at a defiant Q. "Matsumoto," he steeled through gritting teeth as Hyorinmaru's ice-dragon head burst forth and slammed into Q's gut. "Hinamori!" he cried angrily, whipping the seized Q up in the air with his ice-dragon shikai and smashing him down into the ground like a tetherball. Q bounced with a virulent cracking sound, but managed to stand.

"You little punk," Q groaned, clutching his side with a sadistic grin.

"My lieutenant," Toshiro seethed. "My sister. Q - you're going to die."

Q slowly began to laugh. Then he began to cackle. Then he was deep within a hysterical fit of maniacal laughter. "GO AHEAD! KILL ME!" he shouted triumphantly. "I have died a thousand times before! I can never die! Harumia's curse will keep me on this Earth until I can become the God that does not exist!" Still cackling like a demon on angel dust, Q orbited his katana in a circular motion over his head. In front of him, a writhing, roaring chimera materialized. It had the head of a lion and the tail of a python; and the entire thing was on fire with a hide of molten lava. With a leap, Hitsugaya braced himself as the roaring beast - far faster than Hitsugaya had expected - caught him before he could shunpo to safety.

"Hitsugaya Taicho!" Rukia shouted.

"Toshiro!" Ichigo and Karin screamed.

Histugaya was thrown to the ground, the massive beast clawing and stomping on him. The furious jaws opened with a bellowing roar - but instead of clamping down on his head, the chimera's head twisted uncharacteristically to the left as it sensed an intruder.

"Cascada," came the deep-throated voice of Tia Hallibel, and a powerful jet of water struck the monster in its face. Seizing an opening, Toshiro took advantage of the sudden large presence of water to build a massive ice spear that pierced the chimera's throat, gurgling the roar in its mouth in with blood. Its lava-etched skin and fiery blazes began to smoke out as Hitsugaya began turning the entire beast into ice from the inside out. An Ola Azul from Hallibel struck the monster in the side, and the entire thing shattered like a icicle hit by a shotgun.

Hallibel's twang of sonido put her next to Toshiro in an instant. She helped him up. "Hitsugaya Taicho - are you alright?"

"Aye," he answered with a polite nod, but then returned a mild look of bewilderment. "What are you doing here?" Hallibel was not one of the reinforcements he had brought with him. (Not that her assistance wasn't appreciated.)

Tia averted her emerald eyes for a moment to steal a glance at Kurosaki Karin over in the other group of shinigami. The black-haired soul reaper was in rapt attention at one of the other shinigami captains fighting a pack of dragons in the sky. Demeaning myself, she thought honestly, but never would have voiced such. Tia returned her eyes to Hitsugaya instead. "...It has been many years since I have been permitted to taste human flesh," she answered, knowing full well that Hitsugaya would never buy such a ludicrous explanation from her but that he wouldn't challenge it nonetheless. "Is that him?" she asked, pointing to Q.

" 'The Third Gargoyle from Darkland', Tia Hallibel." Q challenged, quoting the NATA's deck-of-cards handbook. "Nice tits."

"Petty stain of human filth," Tia snarled, and reached for her zipper. Had Toshiro not stayed her hand, Tia would have revealed her shark jaws and clamped them over the rotten human's head - but she respected Hitsugaya's request. She made her intentions known nonetheless. "I will deliver you to oblivion."

Q pointed a finger at Hitsugaya and Hallibel, laughing with open mockery. "You? You think you can kill me? You may be the King of Hueco Mundo, Titties, but I am God! I am the almighty God you and they all believe in! There is no other god but me! There is only the power to create and to destroy, the power to build and wreck worlds, the power that others do not possess! I possess more power in my soul than anything you have ever dreamed of! GO AHEAD! KILL GOD! I DARE YOU! KILL THIS GOD OF YOURS - SEE IF YOU CAN!"

A frozen passion burned on Toshiro's still face. Tia's eyes bore a malice that could not be matched, but she held her position; studying her opponent with the sharp predatory skill of a trained hunter.

"OF COURSE YOU WON'T! YOU CANNOT KILL GOD! YOU CAN NEVER KILL ME-"

But then a tap on Q's shoulder caught his attention, and when he turned his face, he realized that he had been lost in his own monologue. Hitsugaya was a diversion - and now, he regretted his own soliloquy because he could see that bastard Morgan, with the mindlinked glow of that bitch Hinamori in his furious eyes, with that damn fucking Tobiume. The shame of taking a blow from Morgan was far more painful than the blow itself.

" 'An eye for an eye'," Morgan quoted - and put Momo's Glory of the Rising Sun straight through Q's pupil.

Q screamed in agony, the roaring pain of this new zanpakutou - something that was most definitely different from the Tobiume he had dissected. It threw into his mind all of the suffering he had committed against Hinamori. He could feel the pain, the anguish, the despair, the despondency - it momentarily paralyzed him as surely as the physical pain did.

"NOW!" Hitsugaya ordered, shouting over to Kurosaki. On cue, Ichigo handed his massive sword to his wife.

Rukia jammed Sode no Shirayuki and Zangetsu into the ground, and then quickly bound their ribbons around the hilts three times before seizing each one in hand. Ichigo went behind her and embraced her, gingerly wrapping his arms around her petite frame, knowing what was coming next as the two of them watched a frantic Q flail about with a sword deeply embedded in his skull.

Her voice could have cracked marble as Rukia's eyes turned a rainbow chemistry of flaring color. "Black Sun, White Moon, Gray Heaven, Mask and Wing - Zotokai."

-:-

The sound of Ichihime's pistol didn't burst like a gunshot; it chimed like the musical strike of a silver spoon against an empty wine glass as it emitted a burst of light. To Nanao, it seemed rather anticlimactic - until she saw the shot hit the dragon leading the pack, which was still pretty far away. That was when Nanao realized that Banzo Ichihime's bankai was possibly the most destructive force she had ever witnessed - her own kido included.

The instant the light ray hit the dragon, the entire being turned to living, breathing, moving glass. When Ichihime switched firearms, the next shot - a more familiar, tried-and-true incendiary round - hit the crystal wyvern like the proverbial bull in a china shop.

The enormous being - it had to be at least three miles long - shattered into nearly two-hundred-thousand tons of glass shards and crystal dust, spraying the rest of the storm with jagged bits of glass in their eyes, sending long slivers into their scaly hides, and causing them to roar in frustration. They instantly scattered - with their leader obliterated, they dispersed rather than fall prey to the same attack. Many of their wings had suffered nasty shredding, and they strained to fly straight or even at all.

"Hell no, you don't, you vainglorious bastards!" Ichihime shouted with amusement. Flickering into the sky on flit-footed shunpo, Ichihime cast about with her pistol; turning the enormous lizards into glass. Like a spinning top, Ichihime twirled with guns blazing out each side, perpendicular to her body. As she turned, the dragons who met Shiji's Ivory Glass Canon soon found themselves in the crosshairs of Shiji's Ebony Burning Oni. The sky tinkled with glass destruction as the pack of demonic lizards were safely detonated far out enough from the battlefield so that the rain of glass couldn't injure her allies.

Ichihime touched down to a slack-jawed crowd. "So, what else we got?" she asked snarkily.

-:-

The sonic reiatsu - not a force of power, not a tangible blast of energy, but more like a powerful radio wave that sliced through everything around them - caught the attention of every combatant on this edge of the battlefield, the handoshi included.

Ichigo was letting his reishi flow freely into Rukia - he had only done this once before, and the last time it happened, he remembered that she had needed everything he could give her. The energy bubbling up between them was so powerful that it literally began to split visible light; the particles bending and weaving until the only visible burst of energy was waves of bright, psychedalic color flowing forth in a prismatic luster. Beams of kaleidoscopic indigo, red, green, orange, blue, yellow, and silver jammed Ichigo's eyes with a fury of every dreamable shade. Tangible ribbons of color curled off of Rukia in a shimmering dance of many colors. Rukia's normally raven hair - her silken midnight black hair - was glowing in vivid, explosive chromatic color.

A portal to another world of swirling chaos opened, and out emerged Dikita Kuranaya, Guardian of Mask and Wing. His sullen-but-noble gray uniform, the same shade as chains and muted steel, hung around his lean muscled frame. The glowing red eyes behind the square-cut slate mask spoke of a being of power that was not to be trifled with.

Instinctively, Dikita Kuranaya knew why he had been summoned, and immediately withdrew his two swords of Night and Day. One black, the other white; he shot forth, gliding on his wings; one of an angel and the other of a demon. With the speed of a comet and the strength of a thousand bulldozers, his swords found their target:

Q's zanpakutou.

Night and Day cleaved through the blade, disintegrating it into a cloud of ionic dust. The squelching roar of the demon blade Shishi-O could be heard dying; the alien call of Astryx could be heard shrieking, but the undying omega blade, Genesis, was now simply unleashed from its corporeal prison. She took form in the face of an ancient cherub, ghostly materializing over a frantic Q; who was still clutching at his face and screaming, trying to remove Momo's zanpakutou so that he could regenerate.

Kuranaya-zoto spoke. "Come."

Genesis shook her head. "I am still bound."

The otherworldly soldier of misfortune sheathed his swords. "Then return to your rightful master."

With a pontificating smile, Genesis looked to the gate of swirling chaos. "Bound is bound, Kuranaya-zoto. Yet Toki-sama awaits, I suppose."

"Aye," the slate-masked zotokai answered. "Then go."

"Free me from this curse," Genesis requested. "I am not of your ilk. I am only supposed to serve one master at a time."

Kuranaya's answer was dismissive in words but evasive in tone. "You are not my zanpakutou, Genesis, and therefore your request is not within my scope of concerns."

Genesis smiled coyly. "So be it."

With that, Genesis vanished in a twisting wisp of steam, leaving the flailing Q underneath her alone and with nothing but his face that was not regenerating properly because of the foreign object's interference.

Gazing upon the destruction around him, Kuranaya's glowing eyes eventually focused on his summoner. He flew before her, and saw that she was drained; collapsed upon her swords - Sode no Shirayuki and Zangetsu, the child sword of soul infusion. Zangetsu's owner was there as well; he was clutching Kuranaya's summoner and keeping her from falling over in exhaustion.

"Kuchisaki Rukigo," his deep voice intoned grandly as he placed each of his gray-pallored hands upon their heads. "Restore," he incanted, and in a snap of green, he renewed Kuchisaki Rukigo to full health and filled their reishi to maximum capacity.

Feeling fit as ever, Rukia stood up and looked at the being's mask, barely able to meet its penetrating stare. Behind that slate mask was Shiba Kaien's face - and to be fair, her husband Kurosaki Ichigo's face - but unlike long ago, she no longer felt a compelling need to see it. If Kuranaya-zoto deemed it necessary, he would remove his mask; and if not, Rukia felt no need to ask him to do so. "Arigato, Kuranaya-zoto."

The being of unspeakable power cast his arms wide open around them. "This is not your desire."

"No," Rukia answered.

"Then I shall do what I can," he stated, and then let his hands drop to his side.

-:-

While Hitsugaya and Hallibel's eyes remained glued to their opponent, Nanao, Ichihime, Isane, Karin, Tsubaki, and Kuukaku marveled.

Kiyone and Hisagi, suddenly awake and feeling as though they had just come from an excessively aggressive massage, sat up and gazed into the sky with wonder. They ached all over and were horribly stiff, but they were intact and whole.

Komamura Saijin sniffed the fresh aroma of clean, earthy soil; with grass and trees and all that Fate created in and around it, and opened his eyes to see a stunned Kuchiki Byakuya ending a healing spell above him. Both were sore and exhausted, but alive.

Hajimata Percival's hand found purchase on Miyako-dono's shoulder, and she opened her eyes; severing the telepathic channel she had used to fuse Morgan and Hinamori's consciousness. The sight took her breath away.

Hinamori's eyes opened, her heart overflowing with triumph and victory - only to be diverted by the shock of seeing the unexpected.

Even Rukia and Ichigo could not believe what they had seen.

The rural cornfields of upstate New York were all around them in the grassy meadow. The sky - bright blue and flawless - glinted with a wholesome sun of light and warmth and hope. Morgan's house, intact and seemingly wearing a new coat of paint, stood not too far off in the distance. There were no smoldering fires, no corroded vehicles, no sulfuric craters, no belch-puke-piles-of-rotten-pus-stains left from Kathura's vile rampage. No dragon carcass, no roasted flesh-eating insects, no dinosaur corpses, no shambling zombies or their remains.

It was almost as if the conflict had never occurred. The only remnant of the battle was the Soutaicho's corpse; a charred scrap pile of bones that was the only testament to the utter destruction they had witnessed. That, and a frantic Q still clutching at the sword in his face.

"Kuchisaki Rukigo," Kuranaya said one last time. With the grace of a phantasmal being, he glided over to the portal he had come from, and returned to the Void of Unknown Unknowns.

The peaceful tranquility of the awe-catching moment was broken as Q finally let out a gut-curdling scream. With a final painful pull, he finished dislodging Hinamori's bloody zanpakutou from his bloody face. With a one-eyed glare glare of absolute hatred, Q looked to Hitsugaya with rage and arrogance as the flesh around his carved-out eye began to tingle and twitch, slowly regenerating and closing the hole that went out the back of his head. "See? See! SEE! YOU CANNOT KILL ME! I WILL COME BACK! I ALWAYS COME BACK, MORGAN! I ALWAYS COME BACK TO FIND YOU! I AM THE ESSENCE OF IMMORTALITY! YOU CAN NEVER KILL ME!"

"I can't," Toshiro said flatly. "But he can."

-:-

"So that's why Q was afraid of Smith," Hitsugaya realized, voicing his thoughts out loud in his Chilean-accented Ukranian. "It's why he never went out of line in Smith's operation."

"Exactly," Johnson explained.

Q's gaze turned behind him, and he swore. "NOOOOOOO!"

Ishida Uryuu didn't waste words. Hitsugaya Toshiro had fetched him all the way here from Tokyo for one purpose, and he wasn't going to waste time fulfilling it: Ishida put a full-powered, maximum-strength Quincy arrow right into Q's chest, straight through the soulcore.

"AAAAAUUUGGGHH!" Q screamed, his voice wailing in horrid agony and despair.

"That was why you never rebelled against John Smith and the NATA, Quigley Quentin Yuim. You knew he was a Quincy," Hitsugaya explained. Q's body began dust away in melting ash. "That he could permanently erase you; remove you from the cycle of souls. That if you ever pissed off Smith enough, that he would end you; and that you would never have another chance to reincarnate. That you could never try and find Haru or Saint Humble ever again."

Morgan reached for Momo and held her tight. He didn't want her to lose herself; to flail out and be a part of this. The deed had been done - he didn't want her to sacrifice the humanity she had just earned to put the finishing blow on a dead man. She had already contributed her part to his end.

Momo whispered his name, in shock and disbelief - a quiet, pleading "Morgan" - but held to his embrace, comforted by it. She did not succumb to the call of murder this time; did not even feel its gravity. Instead, she held him fast; held him and hoped and dreamed that this was really, truly, finally over. Even as she saw his body begin to disintegrate into powder, she still would not believe it until she had seen him breathe his last breath.

"MOORRGGGAAANNN! SUCK MY COCK, YOU GODDAMN SANCTIMONIOUS PRICK - AND YOUR LITTLE BITCH, TOO!"

"Goodbye, Q," Toshiro scoffed, and Ishida shot Q through the head to silence him. Q collapsed, never to threaten another life ever again. Toshiro huffed as the last remnants of the body began to crumble and crack into powdery ash that floated away on the wind. "No one cares about what you have to say anyway."


I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long to get out. Please don't forget to leave some reviews! Thanks! -njx