Ichigo's arms felt like they would fall off if he continued to swing his Zanpakuto, but he wouldn't stop. Not when his friends were in trouble.
Outside of the Jail was a scene he couldn't stomach. That Quincy bastard was ruthlessly beating his friends. Inoue's barriers were holding, and Chad's attacks were doing damage when they connected, but that wasn't enough.
Chad roared, firing a thick beam of energy from his fist, but Quilge avoided it without any apparent effort. He fired a volley of blue-white bolts, so Inoue moved in to defend, but not before a few of those shots connected. They couldn't keep up. The Quincy outpaced them from the start, but now they presented no threat whatsoever. He was toying with them.
"Open up, damn it!" Ichigo cried, his voice hoarse. He powered through the aching in his joints and swung his sword again and again. The impacts traveled up his arms, numbing them up to the elbow now. The only thing keeping his grip solid on Zangetsu's hilt was his desire to help his friends. At this point, he wasn't sure he had anything left.
He gulped down air, doing his best to ignore the burning in his lungs. He raised his sword to try again, but his legs buckled and he staggered. He blinked away streams of sweat flowing into his eyes and tried to catch his breath. He needed rest.
A bolt took Chad in the shoulder, sending him to the ground hard. Inoue rushed to his side, but Quilge was there in the same breath. She tried to repel him, but his arm blurred, sending her skidding along the riverbank.
Blood streamed down the side of her face and her eye was swollen, but it didn't look like she was cut anywhere. Still, it clearly took a considerable effort to just get her shoulders off the ground. She raised her hands to launch a counter attack, but Quilge smiled. He shot a bolt into Chad's leg, forcing a pained howl from his throat. Seeing her friend in pain, Inoue hesitated, and in the next moment Quilge was on top of her. He stomped down and blood flew from her mouth.
"No! Get off of her, you bastard!" Ichigo wasn't even sure if his voice could escape this prison, but he screamed anyway. He had to help them! Somehow!
The Quincy rose into the air with a casual smirk. He approached the bars of his Jail and ran the end of his blade across the gaps. "How does it feel, Kurosaki Ichigo? It must be painful to be so powerless. I simply can't imagine." The sinister coolness in his voice melted into a grating cackle.
Ichigo gritted his teeth. He was torn between staring death at the Quincy and trying to see if his friends were alright. Chad was struggling just to get off his back, but Inoue wasn't moving. The cage felt like it was shrinking, as if desperation was pushing the bars closer and closer, trying to snuff him out.
He had to do something. Anything.
"Why are you doing this? I don't have anything against the Quincies!" Ichigo got as close to the bars as he could and pleaded. He wouldn't normally be able to stomach doing something like this, but his friends were in danger. He'd grind his forehead into the ground if he had to, as long as he could buy more time to figure out how to get out of there.
"Tch, tch," Quilge clicked his tongue and waggled a finger, "I see what you are trying to do, Kurosaki, and I must say that I am disappointed. In this situation, you should curse me and exhaust yourself trying to get to me as I kill your friends. The despair is so much less delightful when you give up before the good part."
"Wait!" Ichigo shouted as the Quincy began to descend, "Wait, damn you!"
"It's too late for that now, Kurosaki. You've already sapped all of the fun out of this. I'm going to kill your friends, so just sit there quietly and wait your turn."
The air seemed to thin as Ichigo tried to catch his breath. His lungs worked overtime, but still his vision began to swim. He felt cold and his whole body shook. Inoue and Chad were going to die, and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
He screamed, shredding his throat and powering through exhaustion. He was running on the dregs of fumes, raising his sword in both hands. His voice cracked and clipped with each swing. Even after his arms went completely numb, he swung as hard as he could, and he'd keep swinging until the Jail, his sword, or his arms broke.
His knees started to wobble, but he had no energy left to brace himself. Everything he had was going into his attacks on the Jail, and that was going fast. Getsuga Tensho had been as useless as everything else so far, but it was worth trying again. He tried to pump as much spiritual energy into Zangetsu as he could, and came up short. In the end, he just tired himself out even more.
It was over.
Ichigo's mind churned through the haze of exhaustion as hope faded. There had to be something he could do. Anything to stop that bastard before he could get to his friends.
With his body almost completely spent, he made one more desperate attempt at breaking free. Unable to swing his sword any longer, he tried to strike at the cage with his raw Reiatsu. He gathered Reishi in his chest, arms, and legs, trying to force it out of himself somehow. But no matter how much power he pushed through his limbs, nothing came out. All that happened was the cold feeling vanishing; replaced by a warmth, and then searing heat.
His strength was not returning-the creaking in his joints and the distant sensation of movement made that perfectly clear-but he forced his arms to move anyway. He raised his Zanpakuto above his head and brought it down. The blade collided with the bright white bars with a satisfying clang.
That hadn't happened before. Not a single attack had produced such a solid sound until that one. Ichigo raised Zangetsu overhead once more, finding it easier than before, and swung. Another hard clang. The vibrations shooting through his hands felt so real.
His body flared with the heat of the Reishi flowing through, and with every swing of his sword he regained more strength. The attacks came out faster and faster, until he was swinging nonstop. The haze clouding his mind was burned away and his eyes focused on his goal.
The Quincy hadn't yet descended on his friends. He was stopped just above the ground, looking back up at the Jail. The look on his face was plain to see, even with those dark glasses. Disbelief and horror slackened his jaw and opened his eyes wide.
Barely containing his power, Ichigo directed all of the molten energy coursing through his veins into his sword. His Reiatsu swelled, filling the Jail, and with one last shout he threw everything he had at the cage.
"Getsuga . . . Tensho!" The bars of the cage shook and cracked under the weight of Ichigo's immense spiritual pressure. Already he was feeling liberated. His blade struck the glowing Jail and sunk into its bright white energy. It was slow going at first, and the Jail resisted him every inch, but he forced the edge deeper and deeper.
The Jail exploded, and so did Ichigo's power. The shockwave raised tall waves in the river below, flooding the bank. The air crackled and popped, the booming noise of the collision of powers echoing off of buildings in the distance. Any grass that wasn't drowned in river water was forced flat against the ground.
Ichigo himself descended towards the bank where his friends lay injured. Or rather, he fell. The heat inside of him dissipated faster than it had built up in the first place. He could barely move his limbs let alone direct himself with any sort of finesse. His eyes darted, searching for the enemy that imprisoned him, but Quilge was nowhere to be seen. Exhaustion returned with a vengeance and Ichigo's consciousness winked in and out as he landed face first in the sopping wet grass beside Inoue.
Her eyes were open. She was looking at him. There was a trail of blood staining her chin, but she looked relieved. She reached out to him, and he reached out to her. Or he thought he did, at least. He felt so weak that he wasn't even sure if any of this was actually happening.
Inoue was struggling to prop herself up and move closer, but she was clearly exhausted as well as injured. She was still a few feet away when his eyelids fell shut and sleep took him.
+ Break +
Yhwach took ragged breaths through clenched teeth. Sweat poured down his face following the lines in his skin. For the first time in centuries, he was reminded of his age. Not terribly old by the standards of Souls, but not all that young either. Jugo was younger-by a few hundred years or so-but his youthfulness didn't help him against the Captain of the 11th Division. He was unconscious a short distance away. Not dead, fortunately. It would take more than a beating from some barbarian to kill the Quincies' second in command.
Speaking of the barbarian, Yhwach tightened his grip on the Shinigami's neck. He held the so-called Kenpachi a few inches off the ground. A considerable effort considering their similar height and the aches in Yhwach's body. This wild man was fierce, as they had feared-certainly deserving a spot on the list of Special War Potentials-but his strength paled in comparison to the Kenpachi that terrorized the Quincies a thousand years prior.
A disappointment through and through. Not only could this man not live up to his namesake, but now Yhwach's presence was surely exposed. If only this poor excuse for a Kenpachi had been a true weakling. At least then Yhwach would not have had to push himself. Wishful thinking.
His grip tightened. He and Jugo would have to retreat, but not before this mongrel was dealt with. He squeezed, trying to crush the Shinigami Captain's windpipe and spine in one fell swoop.
A terrible heat washed over Yhwach, accompanied by an earth-shaking crash. The pit that had formed in his stomach when the so-called Kenpachi appeared turned to ice despite the sweltering atmosphere threatening to melt him where he stood. He turned to face the core of a raging inferno manifest.
"It seems time has not been kind to you, Yamamoto Shigekuni," Yhwach smirked at the withered old man enveloped in flames. "Last I recall, you didn't have a strand of white hair to your name, and it took the defeat of half of your precious Gotei to bring you out." False bravado might buy him time, but he was stuck.
"You are as much a fool as you were a thousand years ago, Yhwach." A single step brought the old Shinigami within arm's reach, his flaming sword already coming down. With only a fraction of a second to react, Yhwach raised his arm to defend. The blade carved into his shoulder and wrist.
He hopped back, holding his bleeding arm close to his body. Surprisingly, Yamamoto did not pursue right away. "Seems that . . ." Yhwach winced at the pain of extending his arm, but it would only get stiff if he didn't make use of it, "No matter how much time passes, you'll always let your anger get the best of you, Yamamoto."
"Nonsense." Yamamoto swung his blade upwards, creating a wave of flame that rushed towards Yhwach. The ground crumbled and burning chunks of stone pelted his body. Swinging his own sword deflected most of the force of the attack, but the damage was still building up. "You've drawn your sword. Good." Yamamoto's eyes glowed like hot coals and his flames grew, engulfing the entire area.
"Were you waiting for me to arm myself, old man? I hope you don't regret not killing me on the first stroke." Activating Blut stopped the bleeding, and there was little stiffness. The persistent ache was going to be a problem, though.
"I won't." Yamamoto lowered his blade, letting it hang almost casually to one side. "Because now, I can annihilate everything that you are; your body, your soul, and your sword."
The air shimmered, and the intense orange light from the old Shinigami's flames disappeared. A wispy trail of smoke rose from Yamamoto's charred blade. Beads of sweat formed on Yhwach's forehead. Even if the fire was gone, the heat persisted.
No, it was much hotter than before. And the temperature seemed to be rising still.
"Bankai. Zanka no Tachi."
Yhwach swallowed. He couldn't look away from the scorched sword in Yamamoto's hand. That blade had obliterated the Quincy forces time and again, more so than any other threat they faced in the conflict a thousand years ago. That blade was destruction incarnate.
"You recognize this sword . . . good." Baring his teeth. Yamamoto lifted his Zanpakuto, "I never once brought it against you personally back then. But now, it is time for you to experience its power with your own body."
Trying to swallow his nerves again did no good. Yhwach's throat was dry as a desert. The sweat streaming down his face had all dried up as well. It was just like before. This sudden drought was an omen of death. A grimace led to a split lip. Tightening his grip made the skin on his hands crack. His eyes seemed to shrivel if he went more than a few seconds without blinking.
"Are you so desperate to defeat me that you are willing to destroy all of Soul Society, Yamamoto?!" Fear caused the Quincy King's voice to falter. There would be no more false bravado from him.
"No. You will fall long before this place is threatened." A single step closed the gap once again, but Yhwach was ready. He leaped back, dodging clear of the tip of the now blackened blade. At least, that should have been the case.
No flames erupted from the sword, yet a large swathe of Yhwach's cloak burned away. How?
He tried to get away, but the Shinigami followed him closely. Another swing came, so he dodged with much more urgency, making sure he wasn't even clipped. Yamamoto's blade struck the ground where Yhwach was standing and a massive smoldering fissure opened up.
"The edge . . ." All of that fire, all of that heat, was now focused exclusively on Zanka no Tachi's cutting edge. Yhwach could do little more than stare, stunned by such unbelievable destructive power.
"That's right. This is Zanka no Tachi's East Form: Kyokujitsujin. All of my power is focused on the tip of my blade. Anything it touches will be eradicated. No exceptions." Yamamoto's voice was level. He wasn't angry or excited. He wasn't bragging about his power, either. It was the simple truth.
If only this old man hadn't appeared! Yhwach banished that thought as soon as it slid across his consciousness. Wishful thinking accomplished nothing. If anything, it would get him killed here. He couldn't let himself get hit-Blut Vene wouldn't stand up to that kind of power for even a moment-so there was only one option remaining.
He had to strike down the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13 before his power could get any more out of hand! Yhwach forced himself to step forward. In a flash he was in range to attack. He swung his sword and cleaved clean through the overconfident old man.
A triumphant shout almost escaped his mouth before he realized the Shinigami was uninjured. That wasn't right. He was well in range for his sword to make a solid hit, and he felt the distinct resistance of cutting through a person. His eyes rolled in sudden panic to the sword in his hand. Half the blade, the part that should have ended Yamamoto's life, was gone. Instinct forced him back. Whatever happened, it was not safe to be too near his opponent.
"You look confused, boy. Perhaps you are as deaf as you were a thousand years ago." The air around Yamamoto's body seemed to melt, "Zanka no Tachi has an East Form, so it stands to reason that it should also have a West Form, correct?" Yhwach's eyes widened in horror. "I'll make it easy for you. You should be able to see it now. Zanka no Tachi West Form: Zanjitsu Gokui." It was as if all of the flames that had been scorching the area when he first arrived were condensed and wrapped around Yamamoto's body. No, it was as if he had become those flames.
It would have been easy enough to imagine such a thing, but actually seeing it made the heat that much more intense. What once was dry was now burning. Yhwach couldn't shake the feeling that he was moments from erupting into flames himself. Every part of him felt like a match in the process of being struck.
Retreat came screaming to the forefront of his mind as Yamamoto's intensity bore down on him. He quickly glanced at Jugo, who was just starting to stir. The Quincies couldn't afford to lose the source of most of the regular army's power.
"Do you know why I let you escape all those years ago, Yhwach?" The old man's voice came out like a searing wind. "It was because I sympathized with you. You had every right to be upset. Every right to feel betrayed. And although I did not agree with your decision to strike at the Soul Society's nobility, I understood the feelings that drove you to it. I had hoped that in your exile, you would have calmed down and reflected on your actions. On all of the lives you took, and all of the comrades you lost. I had hoped that our next meeting, should it ever come, would have been civil."
Yamamoto walked forward. The crunch of dirt beneath his steady footfalls rang like cannon fire in Yhwach's ears. "But you have disappointed me, boy. You squandered my generosity and spent all of this time plotting your foolish revenge." The old Shinigami stopped and held his sword out to the side, "I will give you the option to turn away now. Run, and never return to this Soul Society ever again. But know this: no matter where you go, I will chase you down and destroy you once and for all!" There was deadly truth in those words.
Yhwach moved before he could think. He dropped what remained of his sword and drew back. His bow materialized drawn and ready to fire. A massive arrow shining with blue-white light tore up the ground as it shot towards the Shinigami.
It struck Yamamoto and released a monstrous shockwave that cleared the area of smaller rubble. When the dust cleared, though, the old man stood firm. He blocked the attack with the hilt of his sword, as if to catch it in his fingers. "Your attacks won't reach!" The old man leapt into the air.
There had to be something that could break through this monster's defenses! "Kirchenlied!" Yhwach raised his hand. Several glowing rods emerged from his palm and fell through the ground, creating a wide area of bright white light. "Sankt Zwinger!" the field of white erupted with pillars of light.
Anyone who entered that space would be struck down by his power. It was the ultimate Quincy spell, stronger than any the Shinigami could muster.
"You just don't learn!" Yamamoto fell just ahead of Yhwach, well within Sankt Zwinger's zone. He stabbed the tip of his sword into the ground, "Corpses and Ash, I grant you a chance to experience life once more." The ground rumbled instead of splitting open. Rocks shifted and tumbled alongside a horrible grinding noise. "Zanka no Tachi South Form: Kaka Jūmanokushi Daisōjin!"
"What . . . is this?"
Blackened bones emerged from the ground all around. They were corpses, innumerable corpses, burned to nothing but charcoal and reformed into the vague shape of people. Each shambling form fixed its gaze on Yhwach. A faint glow in their empty sockets made him shiver.
"What you see before you are the remains of each and every life I have taken with my Zanpakuto. I have raised them to hunt and kill you, Yhwach. They will pursue you until nothing of you remains." Yamamoto's voice rang hollow in the Quincy king's ears.
All of these things were individuals that the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13 had slain? That was madness. The philosophy of the Balancers called for the constant recycling of souls. Every soul was supposed to be in constant motion from life to death and back again. But this . . . this hellish vision went against all of that. It was an abomination!
"How many?" Yhwach's voice trembled, "How many souls have you imprisoned in that blade, Yamamoto Shigekuni?! Is the balance that you Shinigami so desperately fight to defend truly so rotten?"
"Your condemnation means nothing, Quincy. I do what I must to maintain order."
"You demon!"Yhwach flooded his veins with as much Reishi as they could hold. The two forms of Blut were unusable in tandem for most every Quincy, but his power was great enough to withstand the strain. No matter the risk to himself, this monster had to be stopped. He leaped at the Shinigami leader, righteous fury boiling his blood, "You make a mockery of both the Enders and Balancers, Yamamoto! I will destroy you with my own hands and save the world from your evil!"
Pillars of charred skeletons rose up to block his path, but he mercilessly blasted through them. They were as fragile as they looked, after all. However, each cluster of bones he destroyed gave way to another, and another. After pushing through a dozen such corpse towers Yhwach fully understood the horror of this unholy technique. Individually, the skeletons could probably barely overpower an entirely ordinary person, but as an army, they could hammer away at an enemy until their stamina gave out. It was a menacing ability made all the more terrifying by the sheer number of souls Yamamoto had damned.
Just feet away from the burning Shinigami, a particularly sturdy pillar of bones erupted from the ground, stopping Yhwach's flight. The old man glared up at him, "And here I thought you cared for your subordinates. Look closely at whose bones you've just trampled."
". . . Zeidritz?" Yhwach recoiled at the sight of what was once one of his most loyal retainers. Zeidritz had been against going to war with the Balancers from the beginning, yet he still gave his all under Yhwach's command. So this was his fate . . . and Hubert, and Argola . . . This damned Shinigami was using his subordinate's souls as fodder! "Where are you going, Yamamoto?!" He howled past the bodies piling up around him. They had managed to hold his legs, but that was well beneath his concern at the moment.
"Don't raise your voice at me, boy." The old man walked casually, widening the distance between them again. "I'm giving you room to destroy your subordinates, so hurry up and come. Death awaits."
Yhwach's wails rose well above the rattling crackle of countless burned bones. He cut his way through the things that used to be his soldiers. They weren't anymore. They were nothing but the dregs of a despicable hellfire. He told himself that, but it didn't stop his chest from growing tighter and tighter.
"You have every right to cry, Yhwach. To know that you cannot reach me without stomping your beloved subordinates to ash must be incredibly painful. Your hatred for me grows with each familiar form you cut down until you can barely stand it. But this is nothing compared to the pain you have inflicted, the hatred you have inspired, the loss of countless souls who will never again experience life in any form because of your zealotry!" The unbearable heat suddenly became even more intense as Yamamoto furrowed his brow. His eyes were like smoldering stars, his voice deadly solar wind. "Zanka no Tachi North Form: Tenchi Kaijin!"
Yamamoto swung his sword.
The ground melted and glowed white hot. The air caught fire. In the split second before absolute death reached him, Yhwach's body lost all moisture and his skin began to blister. He felt the heat in his bones, scalding them down to the marrow.
A thousand years ago, the gap between himself and this Balancer was vast. But to think that it was this boundless. He never stood a chance. With only his own power, Yhwach could never have defeated Yamamoto Shigekuni.
He cursed his weakness as darkness enveloped him.
+ Shift +
Yamamoto breathed through clenched teeth. Tenchi Kaijin was one of his simpler techniques, but also one of the most draining. His aching arms and legs reminded him of his age, and at the worst time. His fire was beginning to grow too powerful. At this rate, all of Soul Society would be in grave danger. But he couldn't deactivate Zanka no Tachi yet. Not until Yhwach was ash.
That last attack should have obliterated him, but something remained. Something that made Yamamoto's entire body tense up.
A pitch black blob undulated on the melted ground where Yhwach should have landed. It appeared untouched by the heat of the attack. It barely appeared to be touched by anything, actually. It's surface was such a deep black that it was difficult to focus on it, and it somehow seemed to be sitting on the ground without actually touching it; as if it were sharing the same space as the ground.
The blob didn't leave any impressions on Yamamoto's spiritual senses either. It did not give off any sort of spiritual pressure, nor did it carry the distinct absence of pressure that marked a Quincy's presence. It was an anomaly, and that was reason enough to keep his guard up.
Whatever this thing was, it was a threat, so Yamamoto raised his sword. The attack carved the molten rock around the blob, but didn't seem to faze the thing at all. His attacks did nothing and the blob was seemingly inert. It was a stalemate. That posed a problem.
As long as that blob existed, Yamamoto could not safely deactivate his Bankai, but the longer he left his Bankai active, the closer to total destruction the Seireitei came. There was no room for hesitation. Preparing himself for anything, Yamamoto approached the blob.
It stirred. The motion was barely perceptible at first, but the closer he got to it, the more its undulation intensified. Its surface began to warp and bulge without a sound, making for an unsettling sight. Yamamoto stopped when the blob curled in on itself and grew upward, like a bulb on a stalk. He felt a presence now. Yhwach's was definitely there, but it was dwarfed by something else.
The bulb unfurled, stretching five finger-like limbs towards the sky. Something was about to happen.
A vast pool of darkness rushed out from the base of the black stalk, enveloping the entire area, concealing the melting ground and leaving Yamamoto ankle deep in that mysterious power. He didn't take his eyes off the stalk, however. Yhwach's power was growing. He was coming.
When he finally emerged, the change was apparent. His wounds were all but healed and there was a deep black cowl draped over his head. His arms were stiffly held out in front of him, his hands and fingers curled into splayed claws. He showed no expression, almost as if he were asleep.
"What have you done, Yhwach? What is this?" Yamamoto called out to his enemy, not that his answer mattered. The creeping sense of familiarity did nothing to soften his resolve. This thing must not be allowed to move.
The black disc covering the ground started to release a sickly yellow glow from newly formed jagged dots. The darkness receded quickly, pulling back into the stalk. The dots traveled up the stock and onto Yhwach's cowl, suddenly looking like monstrous eyes. The finger-like limbs collapsed, splashing around Yhwach's legs, and growing up around him like black flames.
He spoke in flat tones, "I had no choice, it seems. Congratulations, Yamamoto Shigekuni, you have thrown our plans into total disarray. I hope you are happy."
Yamamoto swung his sword. This new power changed nothing. The Quincies had to be destroyed for good. His fire met Yhwach's darkness and exploded, leaving the Quincy with a badly damaged arm. But nothing more.
"Impudent brat!" he swung his sword twice more. The collateral would be worse if he pushed like this, but so be it. A black blade interrupted the third stroke, crashing against Yamamoto's defenses and straining them. His eyes shot wide open.
He was struggling to hold that enormous sword at bay. The change was shocking. His power hadn't lessened in the slightest. Yhwach was simply more powerful, that inky blackness granting him an incredible boost. Yamamoto pushed harder. If the surface of the sun was not hot enough to burn away the Quincy king, then perhaps a star's core would be sufficient.
The air around them glowed and Yhwach faltered, taking a step back. It was working. Just a little more and Zanka no Tachi would burn through the darkness and end this conflict once and for all. Yamamoto ignored a pair of black tendrils shooting out from Yhwach's cowl. His heat was already impenetrable, so there was no need to fret over a counterattack. Except, they kept coming. Again and again the tendrils slammed into an invisible wall of blazing energy, and with each attempt, they pushed further in.
"Bastard!" More heat. More fire. Enough to burn away every trace of the Quincy. Zanka no Tachi's flame flowed through him. It was his body, his blood plasma. Each breath was a blast of solar wind. His eyes shone with the fiery intensity of his power. A tower in the distance began to droop. It did not break, it merely warped, the stone melted and crushed under its own weight.
The Seireitei was melting. He could feel it now. His heat was spreading out over the battlefield. At this rate, it would spread to the rest of Soul Society.
If he continued to exert himself, he could defeat the Quincy king no matter what mysterious power he had acquired. But if he did continue . . . Yhwach would die, and the entire Central Branch of Soul Society would die with him.
Yamamoto fixed his simmering gaze on the back of his sword. He recalled the moment Ryūjin Jakka manifested; the sensation of his very being blooming into this extension of his soul. His oldest companion.
With a somber breath, he deactivated his Bankai. The blazing flames winked out and allowed the surrounding area to start cooling. The black tendrils, no longer impeded by Zanka no Tachi's heat, stabbed into his body, burying themselves in his thigh and shoulder. His grip on the hilt of his sword weakened, but he did not let it fall from his grasp. He would be whole in the end.
"Farewell, Yamamoto Shigekuni." Yhwach swung his blade. Its edge passed through Yamamoto's body with ease.
Pain and feeling were the first to go. Numbness accompanied the stopping of his heart. Vision faded into darkness.
The Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13 let out one last breath.
+ Shift +
The sound of the old man's body hitting the ground was distant, just as the searing heat and pain of being burned had been. Yhwach breathed deep, or he supposed he did. It was difficult to tell if the things his body was doing were the result of his own intent or not. Such was the nature of this power.
Concern for his plans was distant as well. Nothing seemed truly important in the face of such an overwhelming threat as Yamamoto Shigekuni, but then, now that that threat was gone . . . did anything have meaning? His goal was accomplished, wasn't it? He could surrender himself to this power now, and . . .
Yhwach desperately reached out to his body, seizing control back from the blackness. It was a struggle. There was no will to the thing he had allowed into his soul, but that in itself was dangerous. If he was not careful, if he did not force this power into submission with his will, it would consume him. He couldn't allow that to happen. Not yet.
His legs began to shake. That, he was sure, was not the doing of that black power. He had control again. He fixed his gaze on the corpse of his greatest foe and held it there. He had to be sure. Sure that what he was seeing was real. That he had indeed emerged victorious. Relief buckled his knees and he collapsed.
So long he lived under the shadow of defeat at that man's hands. So long he lived with the fear that the same flames that chased him away a thousand years ago would halt his progress again. So much weight lifted-the souls of his comrades not least of all-it almost brought him to tears. But the king of the Quincies couldn't afford to show such emotion, so Yhwach smothered the fluttering in his chest with renewed resolve. This conflict was so much larger than a single fight, no matter how important. The world was still within the clutches of the Balancers, no, the Shinigami, and he would not stop until everyone was free.
Yhwach managed to push himself to one knee, but the other was proving rather difficult. He would have a hard time saving the world if he couldn't even stand up. He almost managed it before a panicked shout sent him slipping back down.
"Your Majesty! Thank goodness!" Jugo rushed across the glassy surface that was once a stone paved road, dragging his foot. The wounds from the fight with the supposed Kenpachi were still evident, but he was looking considerably better than he did when Yamamoto arrived. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I ended up getting in the way, and-" His voice caught as he kneeled down. There were tears streaming down his face.
Yhwach placed a hand on his friend's trembling shoulder, "Whatever you have to apologize for can wait, Jugo. I am relieved that you are alive. I was worried that Yamamoto's flames might have burned you up."
"They almost did," Jugo grimaced, "I was forced to retrieve a great deal of power to withstand it. I am sorry."
That certainly was something to be sorry for. Jugram Haschwalth was one of the most powerful Quincies that had ever lived. The breadth of his power combined with his ability to share what he had allowed him to strengthen the whole of the Quincy army. That he had to pull a large portion of that lent power back meant that a considerable chunk of their fighting force would be crippled.
"That is regrettable, but the fact that you still live means that our forces are not completely lost. You made the right choice, Jugo." He lowered his head, but Yhwach could tell Jugo was taking his words to heart. "I, on the other hand, may have made a blunder that could make all of this struggle amount to nothing. I was pushed into a corner and about to die, though that does not excuse my actions. Jugo, I was forced to activate Kamikake."
Jugo's eyes shot open in horror, "But, Your Majesty, it is far too early! We aren't ready!"
"I know that." Yhwach snapped. His nerves were beginning to fray. "It is too early, but all is not lost. I can feel it eating away at me, however it won't be able to consume me entirely for some time yet." How much time was a terrifying uncertainty, but he couldn't have his right hand falling apart on him now. "I want you to order a full retreat, Jugo. We need to recuperate."
"But that's . . . As you command, Your Majesty." Jugo stood and drew his sword. Pointing the tip straight up, he discharged a ball of Reishi that exploded into a brilliant star high enough to be visible all across the Seireitei.
"Good. Now help me up. We need to fall back as well." Yhwach put his weight on Jugo's shoulder, and the pair limped away.
This invasion was not a total failure. It was a given that the best laid plans could go awry, so it was all up to how much they could salvage. In Yhwach's estimation, the Quincies came out in a much better position than the Shinigami. The loss of so many Sternritter was a problem, but a small one compared to the two Shinigami Captains, the Captain-Commander among them. In addition, the entire Shinigami forces were in play while the Quincies were only able to deploy a portion of their forces, and that meant they had more in reserve. The Shinigami had brought their greatest fighters against them, but the strongest Sternritter had not yet taken the field!
Yhwach couldn't help but grin.
+ Break +
Shunsui stared down, not really seeing the dead Quincy at his feet. In truth, he wasn't really seeing anything. Everything was blurry. A burning sensation in his chest reminded him to breathe.
He wanted to cry out. He wanted to run off and do something. Every fiber of his being told him that nothing would get done if he just stood there, but he couldn't move. His feet were rooted, and it was entirely likely that taking a step would send him crashing down to the ground. He wasn't injured, no. A few scratches and bumps were hardly worth noting, and one crushed eye wasn't crippling.
Physically, he was right as rain. Robert Accutrone had started out as a fairly formidable opponent, but as the fight progressed, he seemed to become more and more vulnerable to Shunsui's attacks. No way an enemy like that could give him much trouble. He was fine, physically.
His mind was a different matter, though.
The air felt cold now that the deadly heat of Old Yama's Bankai had vanished. Too cold. It chilled Shunsui to his bones. The old man was dead. It didn't feel real, but there was no mistaking that feeling, like a vacuum sucking all of the heat from the world.
How many times did he get a taste of that heat when he was younger? Seemed every day he did something to piss the old man off. Thinking back on it, though, he never really looked that upset. His discipline was never doled out in anger. It was always fair. You got what you asked for. That was the kind of teacher Old Yama was. Everything Shunsui knew was based off of the lessons the old man taught him. In some ways, he was more a father than Shunsui's actual father.
There was so much left to say and do. So many debts to repay.
A wet feeling between his toes drew Shunsui's attention. There was blood soaking into his sandals. But from where? A dark red drop falling from his chin answered. His crushed eye was bleeding pretty badly all of a sudden. Big problem or no, he needed to get it checked out. A quick visit to the 4th Division barracks wouldn't hurt. Nanao should still be there. She was probably worried about him, though she'd never admit it. She was cute like that.
Shunsui lifted his head, "No time to mourn just yet, huh?" He dismissed his Zanpakuto and, with a deep breath, pounded the shakiness out of his legs.
The fighting was dying down all over the Seireitei. The more powerful enemies were pulling back and the bulk of both forces were disengaging. At least they'd get a chance to catch their breath.
It would be nice if he could find time for a drink too. He really needed one.