Chapter Forty-Seven
Air turned to ash and choked him. The world stopped spinning and all sense of balance disappeared. The sun vanished. Seireitei went dark.
Edward froze where he had been crouched, halfway to his feet and sword in hand, to go to his brother's aid. His eyes were fixed, unmoving. His voice had broken from the scream, but even if it had not, there was no breath in his lungs left to speak.
The Hollow seemed to move in slow motion as he whipped his sword to one side, sending Steve's blood splattering across the ground. The moment the blade pulled free, Steve slumped (so slowly!) to the ground, his half-released battle form flickering weakly before fading away.
"No..."
It was barely a croak; Edward's throat felt like it had multiple knives lodged inside it. He gasped, his eyes watering from the sharp pain, and tried again.
"No!"
The Hollow's yellow eyes turned to fix on him. Edward saw the hilt begin to slip through his fingers, which then closed around the chain. His wrist begin to flick.
Edward tensed, his exhaustion forgotten. His foot dug into the ground, then he leapt forward, ducked under the Hollow's arm and slid to Steve's side. The enemy's chain clinked, but he didn't care. He pushed his arms beneath his fallen brother and lifted, then jumped forward again, not a thought spared for the enemy.
They landed on the other side of a wrecked street, in the ruin of some unimportant building. Edward, his heart pounding in his chest, laid Steve down and began peeling blood-stained fabric away from the wound with trembling hands.
It had been an upward slice from hip to opposing shoulder. Edward cast around for something to stem the blood, then turned his head and used his teeth to start a tear in his kosodo at the shoulder.
"Stop shaking," he muttered to his fingers as he tried to rip the sleeve free, but even his voice had begun trembling now. With a frustrated snarl he tore off the whole shirt and ripped in half, then bent to press the black cloth to Steve's wound.
"It's gonna be fine," he promised in his hoarse, shaking voice, even as his fingers became covered in blood. "We'll just... hold out until Erina finds us, she's somewhere around here. Don't worry."
There was no response. Edward didn't blame his brother for saving his energy; the mere sight of the injury made him feel weak and nauseous. Perhaps it was the Arrancar inside him, remembering the worst injuries from his own battles. Perhaps it was simple sympathetic pain. Edward forced himself to focus on the deep slash, one hand pressed down as firmly as he could to try and stop the bleeding while he fumbled with the other to get the half of his kosodo he had dropped in his haste.
"There's too much blood," he managed, layering the dry cloth on top of the wet one. "Give me some tips, here, Steve; you have to know at least a little about this stuff. How do I stop the bleeding?"
Still no response. Edward's fingers curled into fists, bunching the blood-soaked cloth between them. The knives in his throat jammed down further, but he swallowed and forced himself to look up, to meet his brother's gaze.
Steve's glasses were gone, shattered and fallen during the fight. His unobscured eyes were dull. They stared past Edward, unseeing, and light seemed incapable of penetrating them.
Edward fell back on his heels. His own eyes glazed, becoming as unfocused as Steve's.
The knives slipped all the way down and buried themselves in his heart. His frantic thoughts stilled, then collected into one awful realization.
My brother is dead.
Nothing came after that. There was no next thought, no 'and', 'but', or 'unless'.
My brother is dead.
The sun was gone. Black clouds had swept in from somewhere, denser even then the smoke that had been hanging over Seireitei.
Now, he knew the clouds. They were his.
.
The air crackled with static, clinging to robes and flashing with tiny sparks in the darkness. Shiro cracked his neck again, enjoying the feeling of bones sliding against one another. Ichigo hated the sensation. That made it all the more enjoyable.
Lightning flashed, high and distant. Shiro flinched, expecting rain, but the air stayed dry. He considered the clouds, then shrugged their mysterious appearance off. There were so many people fighting, it could be any number of things.
Perhaps the midget who keeps stealing my name is getting into a fight, he mused, and a wicked grin split Ichigo's hijacked lips. He tensed to rush off and find the white-haired Captain, the sudden urge to have a battle for the title overwhelming any other half-considered ideas.
The electricity in the air intensified. Shiro tasted metal. There was no pause for consideration; his instincts screamed and he moved, jumping up into the air to put distance between himself and... something.
Lightning struck a stone's throw away, a blinding spear of pure murderous power that sent jagged blue lines crackling outward in every direction. Remnants of the flash stuck around, flickering and flashing over the ground like demented pixies.
A dark figure rose from the glowing crater of the lightning strike, a jet black monster streaked with blue. The fierce yet playful kitty cat was gone.
Lightning struck again, but this time it was alive.
The air burned around them. Shiro caught the claws against Zangetsu's blade, but the heat of their bright, glowing tips seared against his skin. He laughed and jumped sideways, slashing Zangetsu down the length of his opponent's arm, but the monster cat barely noticed. He whirled on his clawed toes, the long fur of this new release crackling with static electricity, and launched himself into the air. Shiro leapt back to avoid the drop attack when a sudden jolt caught him, freezing his muscles and stopping him midair.
"Shut up, Zangetsu." he growled, and, even as the cat hit, tore Ichigo's last restraints away.
.
Lightning flooded through his veins, lit his blood on fire. He couldn't contain it; every moment traces of his overwhelming rage burst out of his skin and snapped at the air. He threw back his head, his long ears laid back flat against his skull, and let out a bone-chilling yowl.
He was the lightning, and the lightning was fury.
His claws burst into light and he stabbed forward, sending jagged darts hurling towards his foe. The white one was done pretending; he roared back wordlessly, the sound reverberating through his half-formed mask.
They clashed like wild animals, spitting and snarling as they tore the landscape apart. The sword began to hit harder and harder, not cutting through his stormy fur but cracking bone and bruising muscle. The pain only fed the storm, but the same was true for his enemy, as well. His claws gouged a burning trail down the white one's face, shattering the mask and gouging at the yellow eye beneath, but by their next clash regeneration had undone the damage.
The white one escalated quickly, no sense of holding back. He charged a dark cero between his fingers and sent it ripping across the ruined city, but the cat, quick as light, leaned away from it. Too slow. He twisted his right hand over his left, fingers clawed together, and his own cero glowed blue between his palms. It crackled and leapt from his hand, darting here and there before striking like a hyperactive insect. The white one tried to catch it bare-handed.
The cat had leapt forward at the same moment as his cero, fangs bared. He kicked the sword out of the white one's grasp - his Cero struck - and branching lines of burns spread out from the blackened stump of an arm that had tried to take it. The Hollow whirled, tail lashing, but the cat leapt over it and dug into his enemy's back, extending his lightning claws into the Hollowfying skin.
Rip.
The white hollow screamed. His entire body, both of their bodies, stiffened as electricity raced through them.
Burn.
He charged a cero between his palms, claws still dug deeply into his opponent's flesh. The sword flew to his enemy's hand. It flashed as he turned it over and thrust backwards, beneath the cat's arm, into the cat's chest; the cat poured that pain into the cero, too. One thought filled him as he let the lightning free.
Destroy.
.
He picked up the Zanpakuto, ignoring the rattling breath of the blackened thing left trying to grasp it with a hand of ash. The sword was beautiful, black and sleek and covered in his brother's blood.
Destroy.
.
He stood in the center of the obliterated street, glaring around at the city that had cost his brother his life.
Destroy.
.
Thunder cracked in the lightning-king's wake. There was nothing left but the storm.
