Gin led Ichigo through a maze of white-washed corridors and hallways, all of which were devoid of any sort of decoration. The walls were solid stone, as were the floors and ceiling. But there were no paintings, no furniture, no nothing. It gave the place an eerie feeling, as though something was amiss. Shouldn't there at least be a bathroom or something? Where was Ichigo supposed to shower? Somehow, he always thought that his final rest would be a whole lot comfier, considering all the work he'd put into being a substitute soul reaper. He kept a sharp eye out for signs of movement, but aside from his and Gin's footsteps, there were no other signs of life in that ivory maze.
"So, d'you mind telling me where we're going?" the redhead asked grumpily, sulking along after his former enemy.
Gin did not break stride, but he turned to peer at Ichigo over his shoulder, his narrow eyes widening with glee.
"Do I detect a hint of fear from the great Ichigo Kurosaki? Never thought I'd see the day…"
"I'm not scared, I'm just tired of all the vague half answers and the bullshit! Some of us have things to do, y'know!"
"Patience, Ichigo. We're almost there. Try not to get so worked up, it's bad for your health." Coming from a guy who had tried to kill Ichigo on more than one occasion, Gin's newfound concern for Ichigo's wellbeing was far from comforting.
The passage widened, and Ichigo found himself paralyzed in front of a massive pair of doors. They appeared to have been carved from the same white stone as the rest of the building, but that was not what held Ichigo's interest. Behind those doors was the greatest amount of spiritual energy he had ever felt. He had always been gifted with an impressive reiatsu, and had even managed to become as powerful as the captains of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, though his control was not nearly as refined. He had stood against Yhwach, and faced down monsters like Sosuke Aizen, and Kenpachi Zaraki. It went without saying that Ichigo was quite familiar with being an underdog.
But this… this was on an entirely different level. Whatever was behind those doors could wipe Ichigo out without even lifting a finger.
Something of his uneasiness must have shown on his face, because Gin shot him another nasty smirk and said, "It's daunting, isn't it? That spiritual pressure? It's like a leviathan waiting to swallow you whole. If you want to turn back, this is your only chance, I won't make you go any further."
Ichigo laughed as a cold sweat broke on his forehead. "After I've come all this way, and had to put up with your dumb ass? I don't think so. How do we open these doors?"
Gin's smirk twitched a bit before finally falling back into his usual unsettling smile. Ichigo was pleased to see Gin's jaw clench in frustration for a moment. The former captain clapped his hands together twice, and the doors began to inch open of their own accord.
"Ladies and gentleman of the court, I present to you His Will!" Gin announced loudly. "Please welcome our esteemed guest, Ichigo Kurosaki!"
Isshin and Yoruichi fell from the sky, their bodies spiraling down into the forest below. Aizen swung his blade to cleanse the filth from it before turning his attention back to those who remained.
There were the lieutenants, all of whom were enclosed around the Kurosaki children, except Momo, who stood at his side. Then there was Tessai, who guarded the brats, Ginta and Ururu, and three teens with spiritual pressures that seemed vaguely familiar to Aizen. Last, but not least, were the two members of nobility: Hideyoshi Kamisaigaiku, and Rukia Kuchiki.
He swept his violet irises over his adversaries, taking great pleasure in the way they turned their gazes downward to avoid meeting his eyes. No one wanted to be next in line to face his wrath, but if they stood against the Soul King, their fates were sealed.
Aizen's eyes lingered for a moment when they came to rest upon Rukia, who stared back at him with a fury he'd never seen from the noblewoman. Not even in the heat of battle had the petite soul reaper ever seemed hateful. There was no way she could still remember Ichigo, was there? The effect of Aizen's bankai was absolute… so then, why did Rukia look like she wanted nothing more than to run him through?
"I swear I'll kill him," Rukia muttered darkly, taking a single step forward.
But before she could do anything more, someone had already volunteered to do battle, and was drawing their sword as they approached the new Soul King.
Hideyoshi Kamisaigaiku, the Commander of the Soul King's special forces and leader of his noble clan, had stepped forward to intervene, and no one dared to make a move, lest they break the tense silence that had fallen.
"You come to me with your sword in your hand, and war in your heart," Aizen noted, as if he could see right through the nobleman, "I surmise this means you have not come to join me."
Hideyoshi cracked a bitter smile, "You're assumption is spot on. I have no intentions of joining you as a traitor."
"I find it amusing how easily people throw that word around; as if loyalty is something to be given freely, without thought or compromise. In truth, all humans are traitors, slaves to their own needs and wants. It's what draws them to their false gods, seeking a cure for their weaknesses, and the cleansing of their sins."
"Humans are not perfect," Kamisaigaiku spat venemously, "no one is. Not even you, Sosuke Aizen."
"Perfection is not what I seek," Aizen countered. "And you seem to have missed my point entirely. I am not the traitor here, you are. And the Soul King does not forgive treachery."
"You are not my King," growled the nobleman.
Aizen's smile fell, and he lifted his sword. "Then it seems I have no use for you."
Before his words were out of his mouth, Aizen was gone, but Kamisaigaiku was already spinning round. It was a close call, but he caught the blade of the Tensa Zangetsu against his sword before it could render his flesh.
"Your attacks are predictable," Hideyoshi jeered, baring his teeth in fierce grimace. "You always strike from the flank, seeking to end things as quickly as possible."
"Hm, I suppose you're right. My impatience is beginning to show itself. You'll have to forgive me, I've been waiting for this for a very long time. Allow me to show you something you haven't seen, yet."
Aizen pushed against Kamigaisaiku's zanpakuto, and the two combatants slid away from each other as they tried to refocus the air pressure beneath their feet. Aizen levelled a hand, and flicked his wrist at Hideyoshi.
"Forbidden Bakudo One Hundred and Forty-Two: Kamitamashi Seigen."
Kamisaigaiku gasped, and turned his face to the sky. Sure enough, dark clouds had begun to gather overhead, and the flagging light of the day grew even dimmer. Spears of light shot from the clouds, crackling like lightning as they fell upon Kamisaigaiku. The first few he managed to slash out of the air before they could strike him. He jumped, twirling out of harm's way, but it was no good- they honed in on him like heat seeking missiles. One that he had dodged arced back around and caught him in the calf, immediately pinning him in place and making his entire leg go numb. Then another caught him in the shoulder, piercing him like a spear made of lightning. Then another, and another, until he had no less than fifty spears of electricity sticking out from all points in his body.
Though he could not move, he was still very much alive. His cold blue eyes burned with a fierce hatred as they caught sight of Aizen. Sosuke smiled and raised his sword, which billowed with a black and violet spirit energy as he muttered, "Getsuga Tenshou!"
The attack was crude, but its power was undeniable. It was pure, destructive reiatsu, focused into a slashing attack that had once put Yhwach the Almighty on the ropes. Now, however, it was bolstered by the nigh insurmountable strength of the Soul King.
Kamisaigaiku struggled, focusing his reiatsu in every manner in an attempt to free himself, but it did no good. He was paralyzed, with no chance of escape, and a great black blade of spirit energy was hurtling right at him. His life seemed to flash before his eyes, a life spent in service to the Soul King. Only now, that King wanted him dead.
He recollected his Task Force, the men he had taken under his wing and raised to be his protectors, advisors, and friends. He thought about the death of his nephew, Kenzou, and his great-nephew, Kazue. He wished he could have saved them, that he could have been there for them, and that he could have traded his life for theirs. He remembered his best friend, Shigekuni Yamamoto, and how their friendship had turned bitter after Kana had killed herself. Perhaps if he had not acted so rashly, things might have turned out different. Maybe, if he had not been so against it, Kana and Yamamoto would have been together, and lived full, happy lives. And as regret often does, it ate away at Kamisaigaiku in those precious moments before the end.
As the mass of black energy overtook him, he said a prayer to the Soul King- the true Soul King, so that their souls might yet be rejoined in whatever came next. Hideyoshi Kamisaigaiku closed his eyes, and in that moment, where it became impossible for him to see through the black spirit energy, he was at peace. There was no pain.
But the harsh whipping wind in his ears died down, as did the sounds of roiling, raging reishi. The nobleman opened his eyes, and had to blink a few times just to be sure they weren't playing tricks on him.
Before him were five people, all of whom were panting heavily, and had steam pouring off of their limbs from negating Aizen's Getsuga.
In the lead was a tall, Hispanic young man with a massive shield for an arm. At his side was another tall man, this one bald, and burly, with a massive nodachi in his hands. Between then two of them, they appeared to have taken the worst of the attack. Behind them were two young men in modern Japanese clothes, and a young woman in a glowing translucent karate gi.
It was Kenichi, Chad, Tatsuki, Mizuiru, and Keigo.
"Was… was that your best?" Chad panted, a cocky grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "I've seen that sword, and know its attacks. I guess expected more from someone with such a big mouth."
"Ah, so you remember this bankai, then?" Aizen asked curiously, raising the Tensa Zangetsu so that it was visible for all to see. "Do you perchance know how I came to possess this sword?"
"Does it really matter?" the tall man with the mocha skin asked.
Aizen's insidious smirk was enough to put a pit in Chad's stomach. "I took it from a friend of yours, whom I destroyed utterly. You don't remember him because of the effects of my bankai. Suffice it to say that if he could not kill me, none of you have any chance."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that!"
But it was not Chad, nor Keigo, nor Tatsuki, nor even Mizuiru whom had spoken. It came from behind them, where Hideyoshi Kamisaigaiku had been pinned in place.
He was hunched over, shivering, and drenched in his own blood. Just as everyone turned to look at him, he wrenched the last spear of electricity from his shoulder and flung it off to the side. The normally calm and collected nobleman had a hard look in his icy blue eyes that had never been there before. It was as if he could only see the faces of his nephews, whom had been murdered by his impostor while he was locked away.
After a few shaky breaths, Hideyoshi closed his eyes, and took a stance. He turned his sword, holding it in a back handed manner before bringing it up across his chest. His other hand he held up before his face, flat and stiff, with his thumb tucked into his palm.
Kenichi, who knew that stance all too well, immediately grabbed Keigo, Mizuiru, and Tatsuki before throwing them over his shoulders. Turning to Chad he cried, "Run! His Lordship is going to activate his bankai! We need to get out of the Bloodfield!"
Chad's one visible eye widened, and with a kick, he followed after Kenichi, who flash stepped away as quickly as possible.
"Run!" he shouted as he went, "we need to retreat! Fall back at least one hundred meters!"
Aizen made no move to flee. Momo, who had not yet been ordered to move, stayed where she was, though a shiver ran through her as Kamisaigaiku's emerald spirit energy began to visibly manifest.
"A bankai from someone who was born and raised in the Soul King's dimension?" Aizen mused to himself. "This should be… most enlightening."
"Bankai!" Hideyoshi howled as he gripped the blade of his sword with his free hand and dragged his palm across its edge, as if drawing the blade from an invisible sheath, "Gesaichi No Tegami!"
Ichigo stood in a large room, in the center of which were three tables in the shape of an upside down 'U'.
All along the tables were chairs, some of which were empty, while others were occupied. There were no plates of food, nor were there any papers. There wasn't even any sort of conversation- it had died off as soon as Ichigo had walked in. Everyone had turned to stare at him, and he suddenly felt a little self-conscious. If he had to guess, Ichigo would say he had just interrupted a very important meeting.
Each and every person in that room was endowed with an incredible spiritual pressure, and wore a white shihakusho just like his. Each one of them was inordinately strong, and everyone present looked at Ichigo like he was a bug they'd found wriggling underneath a stone.
"Uh… Gin? Are we in the right place?" Ichigo wondered in a quiet aside.
"Of course! You're a member of the court, after all. Come, you can sit with the rest of us at the King's table. I'm sure he'll be delighted to meet you."
Gin led Ichigo around the left side, up along the table. As they walked, Ichigo found himself catching eyes with everyone who was still staring at him quite impolitely. As he passed them by, however, he thought he recognized a few of those faces, though where from, he could not say. Did he know these people? He couldn't recall ever meeting them, so why did they all seem so familiar?
"Hey, Ichigo! Ichigooo! Over here!"
The young man turned his attention away from the those seated along the table, and turned instead towards the back, at the far end of the room, where a much shorter table connected the two long ones. Someone was waving and calling to him, and it took a second for Ichigo to recognize exactly who it was.
It was a lanky man with messy blonde hair, an unshaven chin, and a green hat that clashed magnificently with his white shihakusho.
The substitute soul reaper missed a step, and very nearly tumbled to the ground, as he was too busy trying to figure out who was calling out to him. Gin managed to catch him by the elbow and hoist him back to his feet, but by then, the man who had called out to Ichigo was already on his feet, and coming over to greet him.
"Long time no see," Kisuke Urahara grinned, clapping Ichigo on the shoulder. "I was wondering when you'd finally croak and come to join us. Let's have a seat, the King will be here shortly! He'll wanna have a talk with you."
"Wha- King? Seat? I- I mean you- I mean we-" Ichigo's head ached from the thoughts that were spinning themselves into yarn in his brain. It seemed that, at long last, his situation was finally beginning to dawn upon him.
"I'm dead! I mean- you're dead! We're all dead!" Ichigo shouted, seizing Kisuke by the front of his white robes, "I mean, we are dead right? If not, why are we here?! Where is here?! What's going on?! And what the hell is so god damned funny?!" Even as Ichigo shook Kisuke, making his hat slip from his head, the blonde man could only chuckle. The substitute soul reaper was just was impatient as ever, and had not changed one bit.
"I'm glad to see you too, Ichigo," Kisuke delicately plucked at Ichigo's fingers so that the high schooler might release him, "and yes, we are dead, in a manner of speaking. It's a lot to explain… I'm not really sure where to begin."
"Try me!" Ichigo exclaimed, throwing his hands over his head, "I'd probably believe just about anything at this point! Why does the afterlife after the afterlife look like a cafeteria?! Why do I still feel alive?! And how did I get here?!"
"Y'know what? This place does sort of look like a cafeteria," Kisuke realized, putting a finger to his chin, "only without all the food. I thought it looked like Las Noches, when I first got here. Technically, this is just a gathering place for all of us."
"Of all the questions you could have answered, you picked that one first?" Ichigo's eye twitched, and his voice cracked as he fought the urge to grab Kisuke by the collar and shake him until the answers just fell out of his pockets.
"Just trying to break the ice," Kisuke laughed again, further infuriating Ichigo, who let loose an audible groan. "C'mon, sit down, and I'll explain what I can before the King gets here."
"What King?!"
Gin drove a sharp elbow into Ichigo's ribcage, causing the redhead to suck in a breath and rub the spot tenderly, "That'd be the Soul King, idiot."
Ichigo's eyes widened. The Soul King? Could he possibly mean-
That was when the doors at the far end of the room were thrown open, and through them stepped a tall man in long white robes trimmed with gold, over which he wore a magnificent sash of violet. He had long brown hair that fell to his waist, sharp eyes, and sharper features. It was… it was…
Ichigo's eyes widened. There was no mistaking that form, even from a distance. He vaulted onto the top of the table, and before anyone could stop him, Ichigo charged the man in the doorway. As he ran, a name tore from his lips, shouted with such raw, bitter hatred that his voice could probably curdle milk.
"AIZEEEN!"
He sprinted along the tabletop, noting how Aizen's eyes seemed to follow him. The man's smile never lessened; it only widened the closer Ichigo got.
"At long last," Aizen murmured, "you've arrived, Ichigo. Welcome."
Ichigo could hardly believe what he'd just heard. He tried to slow down, but it was no good. He slipped, skidding along the table, and was moments away from sliding headlong into Aizen, who did not move from the spot.
That was when Kisuke Urahara appeared, spinning like a top. Before Ichigo could even raise an arm to defend himself, Kisuke had kicked him in the temple, sending him careening off the table and onto the floor in the center of the room, where he could do no damage to anyone but himself.
Unfortunately, when struck in the head with a hard, heavy clog, Ichigo did what most people tend do to: and so, with his butt in the air and his face pressed against the cold stone floor, Ichigo was knocked unconscious.
"Whoops," Kisuke scratched the back of his head bashfully, "I guess I got a little carried away. Sorry, about that your highness."
Aizen shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of Ichigo, "It is no trouble. I will speak to him in my chambers. Kisuke, Gin, please take him there at once."
The two soul reapers nodded, and each took one of Ichigo's arms over their shoulders before carrying him away. The Soul King stood there for a moment, lost in thought as he pondered the newest arrival. For Ichigo Kurosaki to have finally shown up could only mean one thing: the end was nigh.
Hideyoshi was covered in blood. It stained his shihakusho, and ran down his pale skin, leaving long streaks of red. It dripped from his fingertips and chin, and he had to close an eye as hot, sticky blood traced lines down his face.
But as soon as he activated his bankai, the blood stopped dripping.
Even as Aizen watched, all the blood Kamisaigaiku had lost began to work against gravity. It flowed up instead of down, working its way back into his open wounds and sealing them shut. The blood on the blade of his sword began to move as well, sliding gruesomely up to the ridge of the blade, where it sat like a line of red, resting on the razor-sharp edge of the sword.
"Bloodletter: First Incision!" Kamisaigaiku announced. He slashed at Aizen, cutting at the air, only it felt so much more substantial, as if he were cutting through the very reishi all around them.
"Your attack did nothing," Aizen quipped.
"Didn't it?" HJideyoshi smirked, pointing with his chin as Aizen's chest.
Looking down, Aizen was astounded to find that blood ran down his chest from a wound that had not been there only a moment ago.
'Impossible,' Aizen thought to himself, 'even the Final Getsuga did not leave a scratch on me, how did-'
That was when he felt it: a strange, tingling numbness in his mind that bespoke of someone tampering with his senses.
"Of course, I see it now." Aizen focused, narrowing his eyes, and the blood that had been dripping down his chest vanished, along with the wound.
"Your bankai is something quite extraordinary, isn't it?" Aizen remarked bemusedly. "To be able to fool me like you did."
"Bloodletter is the name of my bankai," Kamisaigaiku explained, "It allows me to control all blood within a one hundred meter radius. All it takes is a gentle nudge to the blood in your brain, and I can make you think anything is real. Conversely, I can use the blood in your body to control your movements, and inflict incredible internal damage… or, if I so desire, I can use it to rip you apart from the inside!"
Aizen's eyes grew wide with shock as Hideyoshi lashed out with his zanpakuto, saying "Second Incision: Chimamire no Gōmon!"
He could not move, he could not think. It felt as though all the blood within Aizen's body was trying to gouge its way out of him. It throbbed painfully in his veins, holding him in place as his eyes began to bulge and his muscles spasmed. Pain the likes of which had had not felt since his transformation with the Hogyoku ate away at him from within. Even if he could open his mouth and forms words, he would only have been able to scream.
His limbs began to move of their own accord, his muscles and ligaments pulling and tearing in the wrong directions as Kamisaigaiku used Aizen's blood to break his bones. A vein in Aizen's neck throbbed as he watched his fingers get bent backwards, one by one. His arm was wrenched behind his back, and he felt his elbow pop out of socket. This was the power of a man who was born and raised in the Soul King's dimension- the power of a family who served the Soul King himself.
But then, Aizen's eyes began to gleam with otherworldly violet malice, and even as the bankai took control of him, and tried to kill him outright by ripping the blood from his body, the newly proclaimed Soul King managed to match the reiatsu of its wielder.
Disbelief drained the color from Hideyoshi's face as he gripped his sword as tightly as he could. Somehow, Aizen had managed to break free of his bankai- a feat that had never yet been accomplished, even by the mightiest enemies Kamisaigaiku had faced.
"So, it's true," the nobleman whispered, "you truly are a piece of the Soul King. No one else could have possibly escaped my bankai at full power."
Aizen took a few shaky breaths, savoring the air in his lungs as he forced his bones back into place, and used his reiatsu to repair all the damage to his internal organs and muscles. He had forgotten that the nobleman's spiritual energy was almost a match for his own as its most base. Had he been incapacitated any longer, he might have been overwhelmed. He could not die, but that was as close to it as he had come that day.
"A power such as yours could be a valuable asset to me," Aizen swept a hand through his hair, which had fallen into his face while he writhed under the effects of his enemy's bankai. "You may yet have a place at my side. Swear fealty to your Soul King, or I will destroy you with the others."
The noble's answer was immediate and uncompromising. "Never."
Though Aizen's smile did not waver, the look in his eyes could only be described as murderous. "So be it."
When Ichigo awoke for the second time, it was because of the throbbing headache that was steadily getting worse. He rose quickly, with every intention of finding Kisuke Urahara and kicking him in his stupid, unshaved jaw when he sat up too quickly, and accidentally headbutted someone.
"GYAH! DAMMIT ALL, HOW MANY HEAD INJURIES AM I GONNA GET?!" he shouted in exasperation.
The person who had been leaning over him, holding a cold compress to his sore face spoke in a nasal voice, "Ah, it's good to see you again, Ichigo."
Ichigo opened his eyes, which were watering profusely from the pain in his skull, and found himself face to face with someone else he knew.
It was a thin man with pale skin, and long, silver hair. He had dark eyes and eyebrows, and the kindest, calmest composure of anyone Ichigo had ever known, save perhaps Orihime.
"J-Jushiro? I mean, Captain Ukitake?!"
So it was: Captain Ukitake had been tending to Ichigo when the high schooler had suddenly woken up, and headbutted him in the nose. Subsequently, he was clamping his nostrils shut to staunch the nosebleed Ichigo had caused, hence his voice being so nasal.
"Well I'm not really a captain anymore," Ukitake explained, sounding a bit like a mafia boss in a bad 'B' movie, "but it's good to see you Ichigo."
"It's good to see you, too," Ichigo smiled lamely as Jushiro wadded up some gauze and shoved it up his nose.
It was difficult to explain, but something about Jushiro seemed off to Ichigo. He was usually stick thin, with an unhealthy pallor, and a hacking, wheezing cough. Now, though, there was no coughing. He did not sit hunched over and tired. His eyes were no longer ringed with dark bags from sleepless nights due to illness.
"You're… you're not sick," Ichigo pointed out rather bluntly.
"Haha, no, not anymore. I am better than ever, thanks to benevolence of the His Majesty."
The substitute soul reaper frowned. Clearly, there was much more at play here than he had thought.
"Ok, Jushiro, you've always been up front with me… can you explain what's going on here? Last I remember, I was battling it out with Aizen, and now I'm here, but no one can give me any straight answers."
The look in Ukitake's eyes was knowing, as if he had been in Ichigo's position. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Ah… well, you see, that isn't really my place."
That was when the doors to the room burst open, and in the doorway were Gin, Kisuke, and the long-haired man who looked just like Aizen.
"Ah, your majesty," Ukitake took a low bow, "you're just in time. Ichigo has questions."
"He always does," Kisuke chortled as he elbowed Gin playfully, earning a reproachful frown from Jushiro.
"Perhaps It would have been poignant to fill him in before you kicked him in the head," the white-haired man observed with no small amount of pointedness.
"Before, after, during, what's it matter? Ichigo's a sharp guy, he'll take it in stride, isn't that right?" Kisuke turned to grin at Ichigo, who stared daggers at the blonde shinigami.
"If my head didn't feel like it was gonna split down the middle, I'd kick you right in the-"
Gin cleared his throat rather loudly, which not only managed to cut off Ichigo's swearing, it also managed to put him back on track. He rolled out of bed, and put his feet to the floor. He was in a white room, with only a bed, and a raised marble altar with a dusty old sword on it. In front of him were three dead men, and Sosuke Aizen with long hair, and way, way too many pupils. Each eye had four violet irises, resulting in the white sclera being shaped like a star.
"Alright, I'll put kicking you on hold for later," Ichigo grumbled, putting a hand to his throbbing cranium. "First off, I need to know, who's this guy?"
The redhead jutted his chin at Aizen, who smiled lightly and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Ichigo, this is the Soul King," Jushiro said quietly, inclining his head to the man out of respect.
"We have- er- already been briefly acquainted," Aizen explained with a smile, "though only long enough for Ichigo here to take offense and try and attack me."
"Heh, yeah, sorry. Gut instinct, I guess. I saw your face and pretty much assumed the worst," Ichigo apologized lamely, not quite sure where to begin explaining his distaste for that form.
"Maybe I can try to lay it all to him," Kisuke said thoughtfully. "I've always been a good teacher, right Ichigo?"
"Uhhh."
"See? He loves my teaching!" Kisuke took a seat on Ichigo's other side and threw an arm over his shoulder before saying, "Ok Ichigo, here's the skinny: Aizen is a piece the Soul King, but so are you!"
Ichigo blinked, looking thoroughly confused. "I'm not the Soul King. I'm just a substitute soul reaper."
"Exactly."
It was Aizen- or the Soul King- whom had spoken. With a snap of his fingers, a white throne rose from the marble floor, and Aizen took a seat upon it, right across from Ichigo, staring at him with those unsettling eyes that were oh so similar to Yhwach's.
"I made you the way you are for a reason, Ichigo Kurosaki. You, like everyone else who resides here, is a small piece of a much greater whole. Together, everyone in this realm makes up the Soul King, who was sundered long ago to prevent him from growing too powerful, and threatening the balance of the world."
"But it wasn't just his body that got separated," Jushiro stated sagely. "His soul was fractured, as well. I myself was given a part of that soul, so that I might survive a fatal illness."
"But that was Mimihagi-" Ichigo began.
"-who is- excuse me- was the right hand of the Soul King," Gin corrected the redhead.
"So I'm a piece of the Soul King? And all of you are as well?"
"Yep!" Kisuke said. "I'm the Brains of the Soul King!"
"I believe the correct term is 'Mind,'" Jushiro chided, noting how the man in the throne drummed his fingers impatiently when Kisuke had spoken.
"Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe," Kisuke shrugged.
"I represent the Spear of the Soul King," said Gin, with his trademarked unsettling smile.
"And I, as I'm sure you've guessed, am the Right Hand of the Soul King," Jushiro summated.
Ichigo leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped together, as though in prayer.
"I think I get it now," he muttered to himself. He turned to face Gin, "What was it you called me earlier, when we entered that hall? The Will?"
The Soul King nodded, "That's correct. You are the Will of the Soul King… my Will."
Ichigo wasn't sure why, but he couldn't stop shaking. He took a deep breath and tried to focus, hoping that he might think of another question to help him get to the bottom of his situation. In the end, there was only one question he wanted answered.
"Why?" he asked quietly. "Why me? I'm just a regular person. I don't think I'm cut out for anything like this."
"Yes, you are." Aizen's doppelganger answered.
Ichigo turned to smile bitterly at the man who looked so much like his greatest enemy. It was odd to sit there and have a civil conversation with him. It was even stranger to think that this man was the most powerful being in all of existence, and that Ichigo was a part of him. But perhaps the strangest thing was how he was so encouraging, even when Ichigo had a hard time believing in himself.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know you, Ichigo. You are a part of me, my Will. You represent my ability to weigh decisions, to know good from evil, and to do what is right, even if it is the path of greatest resistance. You are perseverance and determination incarnate."
Ichigo's face darkened for a moment. "What does that make Aizen?"
The Soul King's face flashed a myriad of complicated emotions, and he drummed his fingers against the armrest of his throne before answering. "Aizen is my Sovereignty, my divine might, and the greatest, most powerful piece of my soul to ever exist. All that he told you was the truth, or most of it. So great is his power that he even bears my likeness, and took the name I had before I was known as the Soul King."
Ichigo laughed quietly to himself. He had spent so long denying that he and Aizen were anything alike, and now they were two pieces of one soul. The thought made him feel a little queasy, like he'd eaten his dad's cooking. Could his day possibly get any worse?
"I understand that you and Aizen are at odds," the Soul King stated. "And that is why I have urgent need of your counsel, Ichigo. You are my Will, and Aizen is my Sovereignty. Together, you two have the power to save the worlds, or to destroy them utterly. You and Aizen are two sides of the same coin, but Aizen is the final piece to the puzzle. If he succeeds in taking the throne of the Soul King's Palace, we will all merge, and the Soul King will be reborn, regardless of whether or not it is the right time."
"But that would destroy everything! The Soul Society, Hueco Muno, and the world of the living!" Ichigo was on his feet in an instant, his hands balled into fists.
"It would. And that is why you must now make the most important decision of your life." Ukitake said gravely, standing as he put a reassuring hand on Ichigo's shoulder. "Will you allow Aizen to resurrect the Soul King, and bring about a new age? Or should he be stopped?"
"Wait, I'm supposed to make this decision?!"
"You're the Will of the Soul King," Kisuke told him, sounding rather unbothered by the entire situation, as if he were watching it unfold on a television. "There's no one better!"
"But what about the Soul King right here?!" Ichigo asked loudly, pointing at the man who looked just like Aizen.
"The decision was never mine to make," the man in the throne smiled apologetically, as if he understood Ichigo's plight all too well. "I am… disconnected… with the world as it is. My physical body is gone, and with it, my attachment to the physical world. I am merely the consciousness of the Soul King- a catalyst into which all others will be drawn upon our rebirth… but you, Ichigo, are my Will. You were raised by your father, who is a Shinigami, and your mother, who was a Quincy. You were endowed with hollow powers upon your birth, and you have even awakened your Fullbring. But above all else, you are a human."
"Yeah! A human! An ordinary human guy! I'm supposed to be studying, or planning for college, or working, not deciding the fate of the world! This kinda stuff is above my paygrade, pal!"
The Soul King did not look offended by Ichigo's lack of respect, but he did raise an eyebrow as he said, "No, Ichigo, you are a human, and that is important. You have lived among humans, walked with them, made friends, and enemies. You know the worth of the human soul, just as you know how they fit into the world. The same can be said of hollows, and soul reapers, and Quincy. You have made allies amongst every race, and seen the best and worst of all the worlds. If we were to be reunited, and I were to return, then everything would be destroyed- the slate would be wiped clean, and all that you know would be lost. But there is another issue, namely with the purpose of my sundering. I was severed, both physically and spiritually, so that I would not grow too powerful. It was a desperate measure, but one I undertook willingly, so as to preserve life, and allow it to flourish in its own way. But it seems as though Aizen either does not remember, or does not care. He seeks more power; he yearns dearly for the restoration of his status, even though it will destroy everything. Such is his hubris, I suppose. And so it falls to you to decide, Ichigo: either you stay here, and allow Aizen to become the Soul King, which will put an end to the world you know… or you can return, and put a stop to it."
It seemed like such a simple choice to Ichigo, but the more he thought about it, the more he second guessed himself. Was he only against Aizen's plan because the guy was, for lack of a better term, a huge asshat? On one hand, the world was filled with darkness. All that death, all that war, all that suffering. Ichigo could put a stop to it by allowing the Soul King to return. He could kick back, relax with some popcorn, and wait to be reunited with the other pieces of the Soul King, whereupon he would become the most powerful being in existence. He could help start the world anew. And who could say, maybe Aizen's lust for power would be counter balanced by Ichigo's will….
But in doing so, he would destroy everything he cherished. Everything he loved. Rukia, the woman he loved, would be gone. His family, obliterated. His friends. His school. His hometown. All of it would be destroyed. There would be no more Soul Society. No more war, no more laughter. No more anything. A clean slate, a fresh start.
But, if everything was gone, then what was it all for? Sure, there was bad in the world, but there was also good. Could he take it away? Should he?
He realized that everyone was watching him, waiting with bated breath as he weighed the decision heavily, looking at it from all possible angles. At long last, he gave a sigh and shook his head, saying, "I'm sorry, your majesty… but I don't think it's time for you to be reborn just yet. Aizen is a power-hungry lunatic, and someone needs to put a stop to him before it's too late. Uh, no offense meant, of course."
He tacked on that last sentence only after recalling that Aizen and the Soul King sitting in front of him were essentially the same person. Fortunately, he didn't seem too upset.
The Soul King inclined his head to Ichigo, a bright smile gracing his face. It was strange to see Aizen smile so genuinely.
"I shall respect your decision, Will of the Soul King. I know it was made for the right reasons," he said.
Kisuke dusted off his hands, as if he'd been the one to make the decision to spare the world, and announced, "Well, now that that's settled, I suppose we should be getting back to the Soul Society!"
The Soul King raised an eyebrow at Kisuke. "What do you mean 'we'?"
"Ichigo and I, of course!" Kisuke replied brazenly, "I mean, as much as I've enjoyed your hospitality, I should really go back and help Ichigo with Aizen."
"I'm not so sure that a good idea-" the Soul King began.
But Ichigo was not listening, he marched right past the Soul King and stood at the altar that held the dusty sword. It looked old, and more than a little faded, but if it was still sharp, then it didn't matter. He lifted the sword on the altar, and held it up so that the Soul King could see it.
"Hey!" The redhead called, "can I borrow this?"
"Wha- Put that down!" The Soul King cried exasperatedly, getting to his feet and taking the sword from Ichigo.
"But I need a sword-"
Kisuke, unwilling to sit out of what would be the battle of a lifetime, followed after the Soul King, "He does need a sword, and I already have a body that I can go back to! Just say the word and I'm there!"
"No! This zanpakuto is dangerous, you mustn't use it, Ichigo! And Kisuke, you've already died once! Why are you so eager to do it again?!"
"Why the hell not?!" Ichigo and Kisuke asked in unison, though the inflections they used could not have been more different. Ichigo sounded indignant and confused. Kisuke sounded blasé and careless.
The Soul King pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath as Ichigo began to argue with Kisuke.
"Why the hell do you get to go back all of the sudden?! If I get to choose someone to come back with me, I want Ukitake! At least he's level headed!"
"Level headed?!" Kisuke exclaimed, looking hurt, "I'm the most level headed guy you know, Ichigo! Besides, I saved your life, you owe me one! You've got to take me with you! How else are you gonna beat Aizen?!"
"I don't know!" Ichigo admitted loudly. "The stupid Soul King won't let me borrow his stupid sword, and I don't know why, but my powers are gone!"
"Stupid?" The Soul King asked, his expression darkening.
"Silence!" Jushiro shouted, earning several looks of astonishment. No one had ever heard him speak like that before. He was always so soft spoken and wise during his tenure as a captain, and his illness made shouting almost impossible. To hear him raise his voice was almost like he had temporarily become a different person. He cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "Your majesty, Ichigo does not have a zanpakuto because he was sent here via the power of the Kyoka Suigetsu's bankai, which stripped him of his name, powers, and memories. Not only will this need to be undone, but If he cannot use your zanpakuto, I would offer him mine."
"Or, if he would prefer, I would allow him to borrow my blade," Gin offered, opening a single electric-blue eye at Ichigo, "I believe he is already quite familiar with specifications of my zanpakuto, both its shikai and bankai."
Meanwhile, Kisuke was dancing around Ichigo, poking him as he tried to break through the teenager's thick outer shell. "Pleeeaase? Pretty please? With a cherry on top? C'mon Ichigo, it'll just like the good old days!"
Ichigo crossed his arms, trying to keep from blowing a gasket as Kisuke poked and prodded at him, "Oi, this guy."
The Soul King scowled, and the lines upon his face deepened. For Ichigo to take the Soul King's personal blade into battle would be insane. Even if he could use its power, that sword in the wrong hands could turn the world on its head. But something told him Ichigo was already well aware of the possible consequences.
"Ichigo Kurosaki," the Soul King said quietly, causing Kisuke to stop mid prod, with his finger still pressed into Ichigo's cheek. "You are aware that if you use my sword, you will run the risk of being destroyed by it, are you not?"
"I figured as much," Ichigo shrugged, swatting Kisuke's hand out of his face, "but if all I have to do is stop Aizen, then I'll need a power he doesn't know about. Even if it means I'll have to say goodbye to Rukia, and all my friends… at least they'll be safe."
The Soul King looked Ichigo's in his warm brown eyes, noting the determination within them. Finally, he sighed, and blew the dust off of the sword before handing it to Ichigo. "Then take it, with my blessing. With luck, your status as my Will might prevent you from being obliterated when you use it."
"Gee, thanks," Ichigo griped, turning a critical eye to the old sword. It was the size and shape of a normal katana, though remarkably subdued in style, considering who it belonged to. The oval shaped tsuba formed an eye, and the black scabbard was well worn. All in all, it looked like a normal (if heavily used) sword, but just holding it in his hands made Ichigo paranoid. It was like he had a weapon of mass destruction primed and ready to go, and he found it fit rather nicely into the palm of his hand.
"And I get to come with, right?!" Kisuke suggested not so subtly, "I don't wanna miss Aizen getting his ass handed to him! Please, let me go back, your Souliness! Just this once?"
Aizen's look-a-like held up a hand, cutting off Kisuke's pleading. "Fine. You may accompany him, as insurance. Your mission is to keep Ichigo safe, and help him however you can."
"Thanks, your highness!"
"Yeah," Ichigo agreed, using his thumb to unclasp the sword from its sheathe, so that he might observe its blade, "thanks."
Author's Notes:
Now that we've come so far, I'm sure you guys are beginning to see exactly where this story is headed. Can you say 'Deus ex Machina?' We're not done just yet, of course, but I'd like to take a moment to thank all of you who have stuck with this story, even when I didn't have the time to write, or edit, or think up engaging plots. The last few months have been insanely crazy for me, so I apologize for the lack of content and the overall posting schedule. I do the best I can with what little time I have. Oh, and a big thank you to everyone who has left me reviews and words of encouragement, you guys keep me stronk. And another big shoutout to those of you who have left words of scorn and dislike, for I am nourished by your hatred. This fic is my second most popular story, and it's hugely satisfying to know that our best boy Ichigo still means so much to us. Let's hope the future anime adaptation of the TYBW arc does the series justice. But yeah, this chapter is sort of a turning point, and the battle with Aizen is looking rather hopeless. I came up with Kamisaigaiku's bankai after seeing Unohana's, but I changed it up a bit, and based the abilities on bloodbending from Avatar The Last Airbender. I also tried to incorporate more humor, because all the doom and gloom is no fun. And how can we forget about Kisuke? I feel like he could be the next Slim Shady because he's back(back, back), back again. Kisuke's back(back, back), tell a friend.
Here's some music:
What's Wrong-Half Ailve
Mr Fear- Siames
Catch Me If You Can-Eden
Thinking-Juice WRLD, Lil Uzi Vert, XXXTentacion, Lil Peep
I Think I'm Lost Again-Chase Atlantic
Loser- Three Doors Down
Superman-Three Doors Down
I know a lot of these are repeats, but this shit is a serious mood. See you all in the next chapter. No clue when it'll come out, but it will, sooner or later.