A War of Balance - A TYBW Reimagining

by CohenTyPa

The arrival of Karakura Town's new guardian Shinigami heralds the beginning of the end as a millennia-old war reignites, and Kurosaki Ichigo and his friends are pulled into the conflict. A take on the Thousand-Year Blood War that refocuses the major themes around the concept of Balance.

30. Chapter 30

The air was thick with ominous, oppressive power. It permeated the walls and ground, sending chills running up and down Ichigo's spine. It felt like he was running underwater, limbs weighed down, threatening to crush him under the pressure. They hadn't even come close to the 1st Division headquarters and things were already this bad. It almost made the fact that the Seireitei was practically empty seem entirely pleasant.

Nope, it was still creepy as hell. The group's footsteps echoed through the alleyways they passed. Everyone had made their way to the 4th Division compound, apparently.

Eerie as it was, Ichigo was relieved that he wouldn't have to worry about anyone getting caught up in the battle to come. Kyōraku had warned them all to expect resistance even before they reached the Soul King's palace, so the fewer stragglers there were, the better.

"Something isn't right," Urahara-san called up to the front. "Based on what we saw before, the enemy's power should have enveloped the entire Seireitei. We aren't being pressed nearly as strongly as we should be."

Kyōraku tilted his head, but didn't break stride. "I think we're better off not making assumptions," he said. That seemed to satisfy, as nobody raised any more concerns, but Ichigo wasn't comfortable just letting the question sit.

There was something off about this. The pressure bearing down on him was definitely the same power that washed over him at the 1st Division headquarters, but there was something else there too. It was equally alien in its intensity, and even gave Ichigo a similar feeling of déjà vu, but it was distinctly different. Couldn't anyone else tell?

The further the group went, the stronger the strangeness became. Eventually, Ichigo could clearly feel the distinction. The powers acting on the Seireitei were like oil and water. He knew that other power, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why. The harder he thought about it, the more he felt disgusted. But why?

Kyōraku held up a hand, signaling everyone to stop. Suddenly, the entire group was on edge. Ichigo dragged his attention away from the disturbing power to see what the fuss was about.

"You've got to be kidding me." He pushed up to the front of the group, skin crawling. They really didn't need this right now.

Aizen Sōsuke stood in the middle of the street, arms folded behind his back. He turned, glancing back casually, and smiled. "This is quite the party, Captain-Commander. And here I thought I was your trump card." He played at making small talk, but the derision in his voice was clear as day.

Kyōraku chuckled somehow, "Who says you aren't? From the looks of things, you're doing your job quite well."

"You flatter me, Shunsui. I'm simply enjoying my little taste of freedom. Stretching my legs, so to speak." Realization struck Ichigo like a bolt of lightning. The powers that he felt were indeed the darkness from before and Aizen's Reiatsu. They weren't just distinct from one another, they were actively clashing, trying to dominate each other.

"So that's what it was," Urahara-san said, scratching his chin. "The reason the left hand's power hasn't completely spread this far out is because you've been holding it back. Isn't that right?"

"Oh? Is that what I was doing? I never expected to find someone who could match my power, even sealed away as it is, so I was just enjoying a little exercise." Aizen waved his hand dismissively. The simple gesture sent a wave of pressure washing over the group.

He said his power was sealed?!

"Jokes aside," Aizen said, his eyes drifting to Ichigo, "I'd like to discuss our deal, Captain-Commander Kyōraku. I am no longer tethered to the Muken, as you can see. You've lost a bargaining chip." Aizen's power began to swell, forcing everyone to draw their Zanpakuto.

Everyone except Kyōraku. "We aren't in the Muken, certainly, but you still have every incentive to uphold our agreement." Aizen's eyes flicked away from Ichigo, releasing him from their suffocating pressure. "Kill us, or allow us to die, and all but those three seals remain firmly in place. You may be on the same level as the power threatening the Soul Society now, but that is only a fraction of the power the enemy will obtain should they succeed."

Aizen narrowed his eyes. "That's playing dirty, Shunsui. Using a man's dreams against him."

Kyōraku shrugged. "It is what it is. As long as the current system is maintained, your seals will be removed eventually. Refuse to uphold our deal, and you won't ever be able to prove yourself superior to the Soul King."

Aizen's nostrils flared, but he smirked. It was hard to tell what he was actually feeling with those straps covering part of his face, though. "Once again, I am bested. What a ruthless Captain-Commander you are becoming." The power that was building relaxed, allowing Ichigo and the others to do the same. "I will remain here and keep the enemy's power at bay. You lot will have to handle the less divine threats."

"Well, thanks for that. Keep up the good work." Kyōraku continued past, eyes forward. The others followed suit, acting like Aizen wasn't there at all. That was probably a good idea. Whatever was going on here was clearly very volatile.

Ichigo tried to do the same, but the closer he got to the man garbed in black straps, the greater an invisible tension grew.

This guy had tried to destroy the world. Equally as bad, he threatened Ichigo's friends. Ichigo had given up a significant part of himself to stop him. It was hard to accept that they were on the same side, even temporarily.

"You've become quite the monster, Kurosaki Ichigo." Aizen said, nonchalant, as he and his friends passed.

Ichigo stopped. He should have kept walking. He should have ignored the obvious taunt, but there was too much baggage there. He could hear the tension, like guitar strings tightened to snapping. Holding his tongue was something he could manage, but he turned sharply and shot Aizen a dirty look loaded with all of the resentment he felt.

And Aizen responded in kind. Only one of his eyes was exposed, but his utter hatred shone through. The way his skin wrinkled, the way his brow furrowed, the deep creases around his mouth, and the white hot rage behind it all. It was nothing Ichigo hadn't seen before, but this man was a psychopath of the highest order. For someone so controlled to express so much was jarring. Ichigo had thought that he was having trouble holding himself back, but it was obvious now that Aizen was on the verge of lashing out.

One little push, and this demon would turn his claws on them.

The tension broke, finally. Ichigo turned back and continued walking. He didn't want to give Aizen the satisfaction of seeing him quiver, be it with rage or fear.

The change in the air wasn't immediately obvious. For a time, the powers at work over their heads pushed back and forth, creating a tempest of pressure. At some point that Ichigo couldn't quite put his finger on, though, the balance shifted. Aizen's influence grew weaker and the dark power of the Soul King's arm asserted itself more completely. They were well and truly in enemy territory now.

The moment they crossed the boundary, Captain Kurotsuchi broke off from the group with his Lieutenant. It was part of the plan, but Ichigo still felt a tinge of unease at one of their most powerful fighters heading off alone.

He sighed, brushing that worry away. He had to trust that this was going to work. And even if it didn't, he was determined to reach the end.

This was only the first step.

+ Break +

Kurotsuchi Mayuri deployed an array of observational instruments as he forged a path around the enemy's territory. Each cluster of sensors would collect data on everything from the ambient temperature to the density and nature of Reishi in the atmosphere. Some might have called it excessive, but they simply couldn't make proper use of it all. Kurotsuchi, on the other hand . . .

All of this information formed his toolbox. Each small, seemingly insignificant piece had a function that could be applied to the problem at hand. In this case, he could put all of the little bits together to form a complete picture of the enemy's Reiatsu. And in the hands of a genius like Kurotsuchi, that picture could reveal a perfect countermeasure.

His role in this assault was to find a way to negate the oppressive force exuded by the Quincy king. A tall order, even for him, but also an invaluable opportunity.

The 0 Division may have barred him from observing them, but they wouldn't be able to prevent him from studying every minute aspect of the Soul King's soul now! His hands shook with excitement as he fixed another sensor to a high wall.

"I am back, Mayuri-sama." Nemu leapt up beside him. The application of the primary sensor arrays was too delicate a task to trust even to her, but there was no problem having her spread a multitude of supplementary devices in the vicinity. Judging by the readings he was getting from this area, she'd done an excellent job.

That came as no surprise. She was his creation, after all. Perfection was to be expected.

"We are moving down to ground level next. Fix your instruments to the junctions between structures and the ground. Make sure to bury a good amount as well." Kurotsuchi instructed while preparing his own devices. He had observed a very subtle, but still noticeable vibration in the earth below the Seireitei. He wanted to determine if these micro-tremors were the result of the Quincy's power, or if it was the interplay between Yhwach and Aizen's Spiritual Pressure.

There was so much juicy information ripe for the picking! This conflict had been a true terror for the Soul Society as a whole, but this was not the first time Kurotsuchi caught himself blessing his luck.

He proceeded to set up his sensors, turning down one of the wider side streets in the network of paths leading to the 1st Division headquarters. He almost lost himself in the data streaming in already. Then a familiar face rounded the corner ahead.

The Quincy, Askin Nakk le Vaar, froze in place when their eyes met. He blinked, then his entire face wrinkled into a dramatic frown. "I must be cursed with the worst luck in the universe," he said, recoiling from the smile that Kurotsuchi simply couldn't hold back.

Yet another opportunity! Kurotsuchi could research the Soul King's power and sate his curiosity about this man's abilities at the same time! "You wound me. What happened to the enthusiasm you had in our last meeting?" He said, fingertips itching.

Askin shook his head. "Enthusiasm? I was curious, sure, but that was then. Right now, you've shown up at an awful time. With the advent of a new world so close at hand, I've got no choice but to fight you."

"Is that so unpleasant? I, for one, am quite excited."

"You really live up to your reputation, I'll give you that. Tell you what, if you can show me something interesting, something that grabs my attention and doesn't let go, I'll get excited. Sound fair?" Just like before, the Quincy was goading Kurotsuchi to attack him.

Analysis of his Reiatsu revealed that his abilities revolved around the concept of weakening and strengthening. If the analogy of Quincy Schrift being equivalent to Shinigami Zanpakuto held true, that narrowed down the possibilities. Still, better to take caution.

"I can show you more than interesting, but I'm not so sure you can do the same for me." It was possible this fight would come down to whoever showed their hand first. As such, the first contest would be one of patience. Kurotsuchi chuckled, "This may be difficult for your Quincy brain to understand, but you've given me all the time I need to defeat you already. From the very start of this conflict I have been analyzing and testing Quincy Spiritual Pressure. Honestly, if you had fought me during our first encounter, before I had a chance to study your Reiatsu, your chances would have been much better."

Askin sighed, massaging his brow. He adopted an air of boredom, a tactic that could really only fool a hot-headed beast. "As I recall, you also opted to not fight then. Honestly, you mad scientist types are all the same." He raised his hand and a ball of Reishi, no larger than a plum, sprang into being. It hovered above his palm, bubbling and dripping in a peculiar way. The surface appeared to have a slimy texture that dripped away at the same rate it restored itself. Kurotsuchi cocked an eyebrow as Askin held it out in front of him. "This is a gift, Captain. Just a little something to show just how little you actually understand." He flicked the drippy ball and it shot through the air like a bullet.

Twitching his muscles in a specific pattern, Kurotsuchi activated a device in his sleeve. A specially prepared tool wrapped around his hand in an instant, and he used it to catch the strange ball. Under closer inspection, it was a fairly fascinating specimen. It wasn't a physical ball, per se. It had properties similar to Bambietta's bulbs. "This may be my own personal bias, but this texture, in conjunction with the nature of your power, creates a poisonous impression. It is something that weakens the target's body, or perhaps becomes a body's weakness, on contact, correct?"

The Quincy blinked, hesitating for a moment. He obviously didn't expect his little trick to be intercepted this way. Then he clicked his tongue. "I hate it when my Gifts are called poisonous. How can you get so close to understanding while also being so far off?"

Curious. Kurotsuchi was sure he'd made an accurate appraisal, so was the Quincy bluffing? He tried to start his assessment of the ball over, but it dissipated before he could. "Fine then. Tell me, Quincy, where exactly have I gone wrong in my observations?"

"What, you want me to spell it out for you? How boring. Allow me to demonstrate instead." A large dark spot appeared on the ground so that Kurotsuchi was stood right at its edge. "I call this Gift Bad."

Kurotsuchi's internal sensors went ballistic. Emergency warnings pinged all over his body, traveling up his legs through his torso and into his head in an instant. His heartbeat became unstable, efficiency of cellular respiration dropped significantly, and a mild nausea gripped him as his digestive system twisted itself in knots.

Acting almost automatically, Kurotsuchi stepped out of the circle and pulled a syringe from his pocket. He stuck himself with the needle, injecting its contents into his body with no hesitation. Right away, the effects of the Quincy's attack started to wane.

"My power is The Deathdealing," Askin said, sounding much more confident than before. "It is not a poison. It does not weaken your body directly. Instead, it lowers your body's tolerance of anything I choose. Do you understand, Captain? With this power, I can effectively lower what constitutes a lethal dose for you. No matter the substance."

Yes, that made sense. The sudden decline of Kurotsuchi's bodily functions could have been the result of an aspect of his physiology suddenly becoming intolerable. Extremely valuable information, but there were still unanswered questions.

"A powerful ability indeed. You have almost proven that you can pique my interest." Kurotsuchi waved his hand, inviting. It was an obvious taunt, but the Quincy was confident in his power. He'd take the risk. "Show me it again. I would like to observe its effects once more."

"It's your funeral." Another dark spot appeared on the ground. This time, however, it was positioned so that Kurotsuchi was smack dab in the middle.

The contents of his stomach splattered onto the ground moments later. His body shook violently and a sharp headache forced one of his eyes shut. Were the effects so much more intense because of his position within the circle, or was Askin able to adjust how quickly the tolerance was lowered? Either way, this was not a position Kurotsuchi wanted to be in for much longer. As his nose began to drip blood, he observed.

Breathing was not difficult, nor was it painful. He was not being poisoned by the air. Likewise, he wasn't experiencing any pains that would indicate a self destructive immune response, so his tolerance for his own body was unlikely to be the target. Kurotsuchi combed over the flow of Reiatsu with an arsenal of sensory devices installed around his body. That narrowed things down a fair bit.

The answer was Reishi. Specifically, the ambient Reishi inherent in the Seireitei. The Quincy's power had made Soul Society inhospitable to Kurotsuchi. The problem was laid bare before him.

Perfect.

Vomit spilled onto the dark circle marking the ground, but Kurotsuchi moved with sure hands. He produced two more syringes, taking one in each hand. The first, he stabbed into his thigh, to stabilize. The second found its home in his neck. He felt the concoction spill into his veins and tear apart his body at a molecular level. If he could not withstand the atmosphere, then he simply needed to make a body that could.

Kurotsuchi straightened his back and wiped digestive juices from his chin. He smiled at Askin, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. Silent. Shocked terror was one of Kurotsuchi's favorite expressions.

"Now hold on! This just isn't right!" Askin said, practically shouting. The edges of his mouth twitched up in a nervous smile. "I've seen people escape Gift Bad and then recover. But you shouldn't be able to do it while standing inside! It doesn't make sense!"

"Is your Quincy brain so small that you don't remember? The concept of sense has never meant much to me."

Askin growled and the dark spot disappeared. "Fine then. You saw through it and had a countermeasure ready. I can accept that. I'll just have to try a different substance this time. One that you aren't likely to guess." The dark spot reappeared at Kurotsuchi's feet once again.

But he didn't flinch. This attack was certainly taking a more obscure route, but it was still the same attack as before. Really, trying to make his own Reiatsu lethal was an obvious move.

Askin shook his head slowly, disbelieving. In all likelihood, he'd developed this ability with the understanding that there was no way to defeat it.

The poor fool took a step back. Watching his unbeatable technique be so thoroughly negated must have been quite traumatic. How delightful. Kurotsuchi took a step forward. If the Quincy was going to give up ground, then he'd gladly take it for himself.

"I did warn you, Askin Nakk le Vaar," he said, letting menace drip from the tip of his tongue. "You gave me time to analyze you. I used that little bit of information I had and dissected your Spiritual Pressure. Not to mention I was able to extract some vague information from one of your fellow Sternritter. It wasn't enough to prepare a perfect counter, but it was enough to prepare a workable one." He took another step forward. Askin scrambled back, jaw slack. "And that is all a scientist of my caliber needs."

The shaken Quincy shook as he backed into a wall. Nowhere left to run. Not that he'd be able to get away in the first place. Kurotsuchi had a lock on his Reiatsu. Whether he hid his power or not, there was no escape.

Askin's eyes widened to the point of bulging. He was still; a moment of fear frozen in time. He pursed his lips and let out a long breath. Then the edges of his mouth curled up. He started laughing, holding his sides. That was odd. Perhaps his mind created a new, more enjoyable scenario to protect him from the stress of impending doom.

He narrowed his eyes, regaining his composure. "I knew you'd be interesting, but wow. Consider my expectations shattered. Really though, that sadistic, play-with-your-food style of yours is going to bite you in the ass one day. Maybe even today." His arm blurred. Suddenly, he was holding a crossbow and pointing it straight at Kurotsuchi. In the same instant he loosed two bolts.

It was an exceptionally quick attack, one that was fitting for a so-called elite. It would take the processing power of a supercomputer to react in time . . .

A pair of mechanical arms tore through Kurotsuchi's sleeves and snatched the bolts out of the air. Another pair of arms followed. These were equipped with minor ordinance, perfect for self-defense. Each arm fired a volley of Reishi missiles. They were slower than the Quincy's arrows, but Askin still only had time to click his tongue before they detonated.

The wall the Quincy was pressed against, and the building it was attached to, erupted in a massive fireball. Rubble rained down all around and a large pillar of black smoke rose into the air.

He was still alive in all of that smoke and fire, but that was to be expected. If something so small could defeat such a strong enemy, then the world would be a much more boring place.

Another volley increased the size of the billowing tower and cracked the foundations of the structures nearby. Yet another volley followed. Suppression was the most effective strategy against these deceptively sturdy types. They would always brush off what should have been crippling injuries unless you beat them down again and again.

Eventually, Kurotsuchi halted his barrage. There was little reason to avoid destroying too much of the Seireitei at this point, but that was no reason to be reckless. The Quincy's Reiatsu still shined brightly in his sensors.

Hacking and wheezing, Askin emerged. He was coated in soot. It was caked on thick where gashes had been opened in his skin, and there were signs of heavy burns visible even through the dusty layer. His resilience was uncanny.

"How," Askin said, dark particles puffing from his lips, "did you manage to fit that many missiles on you? They were all pretty large from what I could tell."

Kurotsuchi tilted his head. "I was taunting you earlier, but now I'm convinced your memory and intellect are severely deficient. These pods were developed with systems that imitate Quincy Reishi enslavement. Everything from the casing, to the propellant, to the warhead itself was constructed from my own filtered Reishi. In other words, I have as much ammunition as I do Reishi."

"I should have guessed," Askin said. He patted his clothes, creating a cloud of soot around him. Wasted effort. The barrage began again, sending fiery blasts up into the air and engulfing the Quincy in its fury. His body faded away into the roaring flames.

In the brief moments when his silhouette appeared through the flames, Kurotsuchi saw him gradually crumble in the heat and pressure. And yet, his Reiatsu did not. Through it all, his power persisted.

Kurotsuchi's eyes were disagreeing with his other senses. What a bother.

The barrage of missiles trickled to a stop. Dwindling explosions echoed off into the distance as the flames died. They didn't last as long as more naturally occurring flames for some reason. Kurotsuchi's Reiatsu was not a very efficient fuel, perhaps? He'd need to study the properties of Reishi enslavement more thoroughly. First, though, he had something else to confirm.

Footsteps. The surrounding buildings had all but been obliterated, so the sound didn't echo, but Kurotsuchi's ears picked it up clearly. The muted click of a heel striking the ground. The soft crunch of tiny bits of rubble being grinded underfoot. His eyes had indeed failed him, it seemed.

Askin Nakk le Vaar stepped out of the smoldering black cloud haloed by an aura of smug confidence. "I must say, that was easier than I expected. Really, Captain, I thought you'd be more cautious." He dusted himself off, paying no heed to Kurotsuchi at all.

That was unnerving.

"It would seem that my initial appraisal of your abilities was quite accurate," Kurotsuchi said, breaking down the missile pods. "You can weaken my body to any number of stimuli, and strengthen your own body in much the same way. A devious set-up."

"That smacks of a compliment, Captain. But really, I overestimated your abilities. All I had to do was feign panic and you pelted me with your power with gusto. Much too easy." He shook his head. "I'm disappointed, honestly. You know why? Because I've received enough of your Reiatsu to boost my tolerance to the point of immunity. In other words, you can no longer kill me with your power."

What an absurd thing to say. It was such nonsense that Kurotsuchi almost laughed. But the readings he was getting didn't contradict what the Quincy was saying. In all likelihood, Askin Nakk le Vaar was actually immune to the Reiatsu of Kurotsuchi Mayuri. That was bad.

Still, a hypothesis and data were worthless without experimentation to back them up. He would have to test the potency of The Deathdealing himself before he settled on a conclusion.

Kurotsuchi wrapped his fingers around his Zanpakuto's hilt and drew the glittering blade. The first point to confirm was the reduced efficacy of the sword. From there he could really put the enemy's power to the test.

+ Shift +

Kurotsuchi Nemu observed diligently from the sidelines. This was her place in conflicts like these. Her duty was to observe and absorb any and all information. The strengths and weaknesses of the enemy. The way they moved, the rhythm of their breathing, the way their weight was distributed on any given step.

She would also record Mayuri-sama's data. He was brilliant enough to keep track of his own body and all of the information it produced-his ability further enhanced by countless instruments and sensors-yet he insisted she gather the data herself as well. So she did. Unless he ordered her to do otherwise, she would remain here, a safe distance away from the fighting. That was growing difficult, however.

The Quincy, Askin Nakk le Vaar, shot forward before redirecting into a sharp arc around Mayuri-sama. Hirenkyaku made his movements difficult to track, but Nemu was well versed in such techniques. She followed him easily as he fired a series of bolts. Mayuri-sama avoided most of them, though one did snag his coat, tearing the glittering fabric. That marked the twenty-third hole. Askin's attacks were getting more precise.

He kicked the ground suddenly, changing his trajectory in a way that should have put a heavy strain on his body, and swung at Mayuri-sama with no ill effects. His leg caught Mayuri-sama's headdress, tearing it away completely and exposing his neatly trimmed hair. Another series of bolts took his coat off.

A dripping purple ball flew from Askin's hand, nearly striking Mayuri-sama. He threw another ball, then another, and another, until one finally found its mark. Mayuri-sama stopped, eyes widening. Blood began to seep from between his teeth. That was strange. He had already adjusted his body to handle the Quincy's ability. And yet, Mayuri-sama injected himself with a hastily produced syringe. That stopped the enemy's power, but left him open. Two bolts sprouted from Mayuri-sama's shoulders, then Askin slammed his knee into Mayuri-sama's chest, sending him tumbling.

Mayuri-sama recovered immediately, throwing a handful of vials into the air. Some of them hit the ground, shattering and creating a field of deadly poisons. Others lingered in the air before bursting, leaving clouds of poison gas. Nemu couldn't tell what the exact nature of those poisons was-Mayuri-sama often synthesized them on the fly-but she was sure they would be extremely potent. The Quincy rushed through them without hesitation. For a split second, he seemed to falter. Blood pooled in his ears, parts of his skin seemed to melt, and his eyes took on a cloudy cast that implied a loss of vision. But those effects vanished in an instant. He slammed into Mayuri-sama again, except this time, he kept him in place.

Askin danced around, closing in to strike Mayuri-sama and backing off to harry him with his crossbow. Wounds began to pile up across Mayuri-sama's body. A dark field appeared under his feet, causing him to cough up blood. Askin struck a moment later. Mayuri-sama allowed the attack to land so that it would send him outside of the enemy's field.

He slid to a stop and fell to one knee. Just looking at his face she could feel the pressure he was under. Each of his countermeasures was being bypassed, and each of the enemy's countermeasures was tripping him up. He was accumulating damage much too quickly. This fight was not going to plan. Nemu felt her nails dig into her palms as she continued to observe.

Askin sauntered around Mayuri-sama, his arms raised above his head. He had the gall to look bored. "How dull! Where did all of that interesting potential go, Captain? If you don't perform, I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life in the new world dreaming about what could have been!"

"Oh, how tragic," Mayuri-sama said through gritted teeth. "To avoid such a fate, I suggest slitting your own throat. Save us both the trouble."

"Non!" Askin stomped his foot, gesturing flamboyantly. He appeared to be playing around. It was frustrating. "My avenues for interesting fights may come to a dead end with you, here. But the possibilities of the new world are far too vast for me to miss. If anything, I should slit your throat for disappointing me so thoroughly!" He flicked his wrist, firing a bolt.

A mechanical arm whipped out of Mayuri-sama's clothes, swatting the bolt away. He tried to stand, but fell back to one knee, legs trembling. Such weakness was unlike Mayuri-sama, even as an act. "You injure me, Quincy. I still breathe, so you should not be so quick to assume I have nothing left to show. Though, I suppose I shouldn't expect a Quincy to be patient. You really should do something about that short attention span of yours."

Askin smiled, but the movement of his facial muscles were clearly aggravated. He started walking towards Mayuri-sama. "Yeah, you might be right. But for now, I'm totally focused on one thing. Defeating you." A dripping ball the size of a human skull formed in his upturned palm.

Mayuri-sama grimaced. He must have been working on some kind of countermeasure. But could he make it in time? He was having difficulty standing, and his taunts had only earned him a brief respite.

He wouldn't make it, Nemu realized. If Askin threw that ball, it would hit Mayuri-sama, and the fight would end.

That was unacceptable.

Nemu breathed in and launched herself between them. She landed with a crash, throwing up shattered fragments of pavement. The small craters that formed at her feet would make for functional footholds. In the moment before she moved again, she could feel Mayuri-sama's gaze on her back. He would surely be disappointed in her for interfering, but that was fine. She would accept any sort of punishment he decided to administer.

She pushed off, planting her fist into Askin's chest. The ball vanished and his eyes bulged out of his face. His body crashed across the ground, falling limp a fair distance away. Nemu pursued him, intending to finish him off as quickly as possible. The Quincy might have been immune to Mayuri-sama's power, but he hadn't yet experienced hers. She needed to strike a fatal blow before he could adapt to her Reiatsu.

Askin twitched, groaning in a heap as Nemu approached. In an honorable fight, striking him now would have been unthinkable. Fortunately, Mayuri-sama had never taught her to adhere to any sense of honor. Pragmatism was the basis of her morality. She clenched her fist as she flew through the air, gathering her power at the end of her knuckles. As soon as she touched down, a dark field expanded beneath her feet.

Pain wracked her body. It felt as if her muscles were withering and her veins were shriveling. Many of her vital organs began to fail all at once. Her vision blurred and bile surged up from her stomach. She hit the ground rolling. She stopped well short of her target.

"Not as adaptable as the Captain, are you, missy?" Askin stood easily, nonchalantly spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground. "Let me guess, you're the henchman type? All brawn, no brains? So dull. A pity." He walked past her, barely sparing a glance.

How frustrating. She was Mayuri-sama's ultimate creation, and yet this was all she was capable of? That couldn't be right. It was impossible. She tried to stand, but her muscles weren't supporting her weight. Her lungs were barely functioning anymore.

A curious sound reached her ears even as her hearing deteriorated. It was a fluttering sort of vibration. Loud and percussive. Her mind was foggy, but for some reason, she associated it with burning fuel. How strange.

Suddenly, she was lifted off the ground and carried out of the deadly field. Her condition started improving immediately, but the process was slow. Her eyes gradually focused, revealing Mayuri-sama looming over her. He didn't look happy. "What sort of defect encouraged you to ignore your instructions? Do you want me to dispose of you?"

Nemu breathed in. Full lungs brought clarity. Without offering a word in her defense, she reached into a pocket sewn into her uniform, producing two small vials that Mayuri-sama had given her before the operation began. He took them readily, breaking one and consuming the contents. Whatever it was, it improved his condition a great deal. His wounds rapidly reknit themselves and his grip became stronger.

He produced a syringe and stuck the needle deep into Nemu's neck. She flinched at the discomfort, but accepted the treatment. Her body's healing accelerated, allowing her to quickly overcome the effects of the enemy's power. She was back on her feet in seconds.

"We will discuss your disobedience later. For now, you will follow my instructions." Nemu nodded. There was never a need to argue with Mayuri-sama. He handed her another syringe. "This Quincy's ability is troublesome, but it has its limits. I suspect he hasn't received enough exposure to your Reiatsu to achieve full immunity, so you will need to deal the finishing blow. Do you understand, Nemu?"

Nemu gripped the syringe tight and nodded. Being a vital part of Mayuri-sama's plans was an honor. She would not fail him again.

Mayuri-sama leapt back into the fray, a set of boosters attached to his sandals allowing him to exceed his usual speed limit. He and Askin danced around each other, exchanging blows. It still wasn't going well, though.

Askin's power was in full effect, preventing Mayuri-sama from damaging him by traditional means. Meanwhile, Mayuri-sama was barely keeping the creeping damage of the Quincy's ability at bay. If things continued like this, Mayuri-sama would lose. So Nemu observed.

She took in their angles of attack, the pattern of their strikes, and the frequency of their blinks. All the while, she crept closer and closer. Mayuri-sama was a distraction, focusing the entirety of Askin's attention on him.

Nemu didn't blink as she approached. She wouldn't miss anything. Not with so much riding on her observations.

Mayuri-sama lunged, spinning with the additional thrust of his rocket sandals. His blade was a blur, trailing some ominously colored fluid. Askin raised his arms to grab Mayuri-sama, anticipating his safety. Now was the time.

Nemu surged forward, syringe primed. She slammed into Askin's hips from behind, tackling him to the ground. In a flash she turned him around and slammed the instrument into his chest. A quick jerk broke the needle off in his body. He gasped, clutching at his chest. Nemu held him down as he thrashed, panicked. His skin turned a sickly shade of yellow and his limp attempts to throw her off became violent convulsions. His eyes rolled back as frothy spittle bubbles up between his lips.

A poison. Specifically, one that worked faster than Askin's ability. That was a fitting trump card for Mayuri-sama. Nemu left the syringe where it stood, jutting out of the Quincy's chest. There was no reason to disturb the corpse any more than she already had. It would lower its value as a specimen if she did.

Askin's chest expanded, a sudden, jerking motion. The effects of the poison, no doubt. But then Mayuri-sama shouted, "Back away, Nemu!" A bright light enveloped the Quincy's body as the words reached her. She pushed off, but it was too late.

Light exploded off of Askin, hitting Nemu like a powerful shockwave. Parts of her skin ripped and many of her organs sustained significant blunt force trauma. Her vision swam as she was flung across the ground. When she recovered a moment later, Askin was upright, floating just above the pavement.

"Now you've gone and done it. I hate resorting to Vollständig. Nothing interesting can happen if a fight is too easy." He was surrounded by lights, like little clusters of purple stars. They orbited around his waist and formed an almost wing-like structure at his back. The lights formed a simple crest over his head. "Nothing to do about it now, I suppose. Say hello to Hasshein."

A terrible pressure passed through Nemu, permeating the air and ground around her. Even as it passed her, she could feel it continue to spread, expanding out in all directions, further and further, higher and higher. Her body cried out, straining against the effects of this new force.

It was similar to the dark field, Gift Bad, but the intensity was so much worse. Mayuri-sama's countermeasures struggled to keep Nemu's body functioning. The sweat glistening on Mayuri-sama's face indicated that he, too, was experiencing difficulties.

Askin turned away from Nemu to face Mayuri-sama. "Care for an explanation, Captain? I'm sure you have your own ideas, but we both know you can only make so many correct guesses. Watch carefully," He raised a finger and a small, drippy ball formed at the tip. "You've seen my Gift Ball. Simple, direct, but burdened by the caveat that it must strike a target in order to take effect. What you see now is essentially a perfected version of that."

The Quincy spread his arms wide. "This is my Gift Ball Deluxe! Imagine the space inside of my Gift Ball. Now imagine that space growing to cover a wide expanse. Picture it spreading for a mile in every direction. Forward and back, left and right, into the air and under the ground. A massive orb of Deathdealing goodness!"

Wrapping her head around it was quite easy, but Nemu still felt overwhelmed. Those small fields on the ground were dangerous enough, but now that same effect was all around her. They wouldn't be able to simply escape with a short hop in any direction. Mayuri-sama fell to his knees. He was experiencing the same muscular weakness that Nemu was.

"Good, I think you've got the gist of it. Now prepare yourself. I'm about to really blow your mind." Askin landed gingerly and sauntered toward Mayuri-sama. "Hasshein, the name of this form of mine, enhances the effects of my Schrift. Your tolerances will be lowered more quickly, and my immunities will take effect more quickly as well. For example," he gestured back towards Nemu, "I've almost completely immunized myself against that little drone of yours. And that isn't even the best part."

"Hasshein also augments my immunities. Meaning, once I've gained a tolerance to a base substance, I will be able to adapt to any alterations or mutations of that substance." Mayuri-sama's eyes widened. He was shocked. Did that mean . . . "Looks like you've got it! All of those little steps you've been taking to bypass my immunity are moot now. I said it before and I'll say it again; You can't kill me, Captain."

The weight of those words fell onto Nemu's weakened shoulders, nearly breaking her. If he was telling the truth, this Quincy's power could negate Mayuri-sama's ingenuity. That shouldn't have been possible. Mayuri-sama was the greatest genius to have ever lived. He couldn't lose. He couldn't be outdone. He was always three steps ahead or more.

Nemu lowered her head, feeling her weakness intensify. Her body was still holding steady, but her will to fight was rapidly draining. If this Quincy defeated Mayuri-sama . . . No. She couldn't even entertain such treacherous thoughts.

But if Mayuri-sama did fall . . . What would she do? Attempt to avenge him? Throw her life away for revenge? That would go against her very reason for being, wouldn't it? After all, if she threw her life away, she would then be throwing away Mayuri-sama's work. Before she was an individual, she was the seventh iteration of the Nemuri Project. She existed to facilitate Mayuri-sama's dream. That was the first thing she'd been taught.

"Your confidence is misplaced, Quincy." Mayuri-sama's voice hit Nemu like a wave of ice water. She raised her head and saw the man she admired most grinning like a madman. "If you tell a scientist of my caliber that something is impossible, do you think he will roll over and die? Of course not! He will do everything in his power, expend every drop of his essence to prove that assertion wrong. I can kill you, Askin Nakk le Vaar, and I will. Just you watch."

Nemu breathed in sharply. That snarling confidence almost seemed to weaken the effects of the Quincy's power all on its own. She observed it. She took in every wrinkle on Mayuri-sama's face, every muscle pulled taught over his skull, every tiny vein reaching across his eyes like bolts of lightning. In the face of impossible odds, he refused to surrender.

That was so like him.

Nemu smiled, and she remembered when she'd become Nemu. Akon had smiled when she asked why Mayuri-sama had stopped referring to her by her designation. He'd told her about the previous iterations and how they failed. Not one of them had survived long enough to develop as an individual, he'd said. A nickname was just one way that Mayuri-sama was expressing his expectations.

You're the closest he's come to achieving his dream yet, so try and bear with his sentimentality, okay?

Nemuri Nanagō was the crystallization of Mayuri-sama's dream. But there was more. She was the guardian of his dream as well. Her limits were the limits of his efforts. As long as he lived, though, he could continue to iterate and reach even further heights. She felt a pang in her chest at the thought, but his dream would not end with her. It could not.

She wouldn't let it.

Despite her failing organs and withering muscles, Nemu stood. She was certainly more durable than the average Shinigami, however under normal circumstances, her body wouldn't be able to take this sort of abuse. She simply wasn't designed to withstand this sort of total shutdown. In that case, she would have to go beyond her normal parameters.

Her digestive system was useless in combat, so she shut it down. Her immune system was practically fried already, so she shut it down as well. Mayuri-sama would be upset, but she bypassed his safeguards and redirected energy from every nonvital system and function. There was only one thing she needed to be doing right now.

Nemu sprinted faster than she ever had, ignoring the snapping sounds coming from her muscles. They were useless at this point anyways. She drowned out everything other than Mayuri-sama. He barely had time to look at her before she slammed into Askin, tearing away one of his arms. She blew past, grabbing Mayuri-sama on the way, aiming for the edge of this giant Gift Ball.

Mayuri-sama let her take him, hanging limply in her arms. She could feel his dissatisfaction, though. That was to be expected. He didn't even grumble when she set him down at the threshold of the enemy's territory. Nemu tested the swirling fog that separated them from safety, touching it lightly at first, then slamming into it with enough force to crack her knuckles. If she tried much harder to break through, she'd likely cripple herself.

As she tested, looking for a way through, Mayuri-sama growled. "I see what you're doing, Nemu. Allocating resources to that degree is beyond your capabilities. Return to your standard parameters at once." He was standing now, checking over his body. Nemu had barely noticed with so many of her facilities inhibited, but it seemed that the effects of the Gift Ball were diminished compared to the center.

Nemu checked herself and found that her condition was still rather poor. If she undid her changes, she would most likely be left incapacitated. That wasn't an option. "I will return once the enemy has been defeated."

"You will return now. Or do you doubt the body I gave you? I set those limits for a reason." He injected himself with a syringe, but nothing changed. His countermeasures weren't working.

"I believe in this body, however it's limitations were not sufficient to complete my mission." The barrier-like edge of the Gift Ball shifted, moving further away. Nemu turned back towards the center. Back towards Askin Nakk le Vaar. He was coming after them.

Mayuri-sama's gaze seared her back. "What mission is this? I don't remember ordering you to destroy yourself."

"My mission is to protect Mayuri-sama."

"Your mission is to grow!"

His shout startled her, but she kept her attention on the incoming threat. They didn't have time to argue, and she didn't want to in the first place. The muscles in her face twitched ever so slightly. She'd forgotten to disable them.

"I'm sorry, Mayuri-sama," she said, eyes forward. "For now, I cannot follow your orders. Please, just this once, bear with my sentimentality." Nemu kicked off, rushing to meet the Quincy elite. She needed to do something quickly, before the enemy's power killed her. Her lungs were already reduced to forty percent efficiency. Her vision was blurring and a numbness was slowly spreading from the tips of her fingers and toes.

She saw him in the distance. Those bright lights acted as a beacon, guiding her to her target. She stuck her leg out, hoping to impale him and end the fight before he realized what was happening, but he avoided her, stepping to the side.

"You're lucky, Shinigami!" Askin said. "I became immune to blood loss ages ago. Losing a limb is no problem. But you know what? It still hurt like hell!" He pointed at Nemu as she swung around for another pass. Something wavered in her vision, barely perceptible.

Then her eye popped.

Blood splattered across her face and an intense, stabbing pain shot through her skull. She blew past Askin as he laughed, "An eye for an arm! Not quite as catchy, but it gets the job done!"

Nemu pivoted, changing direction on a dime. She heard her ankle break and the bones in her leg crack. Fortunately, she'd already lost feeling in them. Her arms were mostly numb as well, but she moved them through sheer force of will. She held them out in front of her.

Askin was likely almost completely immune to her Reiatsu by now, which didn't leave Nemu with many options. She had no special ability of her own-as an artificial soul she was unable to manifest a Zanpakuto-and her body was constructed from Reishi that the Quincy could protect himself against. She needed to deal a single killing blow. Something powerful enough to overcome his immunization. So she started manipulating her soul.

Nemu shaved off chunks of the essence of her being, cultivating it, repurposing it. It was the fuel that gave her life; an engine that produced incredible power. It didn't grant her the tools available to regular Shinigami, but it offered something greater. No other Shinigami could utilize their soul the way she could.

She focused the cultivated power in her dead hands. Thirty percent of her entire existence. It was hot and it glowed like her own personal star. It may have been her proximity to the light, but she thought it shined brighter than Askin's glittering accessories.

Nemu stopped suddenly, catching Askin by surprise. Her whole skeleton screamed at the shift in momentum. It didn't matter. She focused through the pain. Her gaze pierced the fogginess caused by the Quincy's ability.

Nemu ejected thirty percent of her soul, shooting it like a cannonball. It struck Askin, a missile of pure light, and exploded. The bright flash blinded her, and the shockwave flung her back. Her vision recovered just enough for her to see the fruits of her reckless attack.

A dome of energy expanded slowly, as if the blast were repeating in slow motion. It did not produce fire, nor did it generate smoke, but the heat was almost unbearable. It was exactly the kind of powerful technique she'd needed it to be.

Dizziness overtook her and she fell to her knees. In just a few short minutes, she'd experienced her body rejecting itself, a shutdown of almost all non-critical functions, and the removal of almost a full third of her soul. Nemu was exhausted. She could barely move, or breath, or do much of anything. It would take weeks to recover fully, even with Mayuri-sama's help.

But she'd done it. She completed her mission.

A mission that she chose for herself.

Mayuri-sama was going to punish her for being disobedient, but for once, that actually made her happy. That Mayuri-sama would be around to dole out punishment made her happy. A small part of her felt excited, even. Considering what she'd done, he might even praise her.

He'd never let on that he was proud, though, so she'd have to pay special attention.

Nemu's remaining eye was still too blurry to see properly, but she felt Mayuri-sama approach. She was a little sorry for the state she was in. Seeing his hard work in shambles like this wouldn't be good for his blood pressure.

She turned to face him, smiling.

She hoped he didn't mind.

+ Shift +

That foolish, foolish girl! Why did she choose today of all days to enter a rebellious phase? Kurotsuchi moved as fast as he could, pushing himself harder than his body could take. Damn that Quincy's power! He'd almost prefer dying over being reduced to such a pathetic state.

When he finally reached the place where Nemu and Askin were fighting, he wasn't surprised. That painfully bright burst lingering in the air would be the result of Nemu's self-destructive efforts. He grit his teeth, writing a list of all the ways he'd punish her for putting his work at risk in his head. When his eyes fell on the impetuous child herself, he felt a spike of panic.

She was a mess! Her only obvious injury was the missing eye, but he saw much deeper than that. Her nervous system was completely shot and he was reading alarms from every one of her vital organs. The fool had nearly killed herself! When he got his hands on her . . .

That would have to wait. His first priority was to make sure she survived. Then he could give her the thrashing she deserved. He started towards her.

A translucent, drippy ball appeared around Nemu. Blood burst from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Kurotsuchi could read the agony on her face. She convulsed, a single jerking motion, before falling limp.

Kurotsuchi stopped, staring. Nemu was dead. If his own sight wasn't good enough, he had dozens of instruments to confirm. The light from her weaponized soul faded and Askin Nakk le Vaar emerged, virtually unscathed. He started saying something with a smug, self satisfied look on his face, but Kurotsuchi didn't hear a word he said.

A persistent loud ringing drowned out all other sounds. Memories of failure sparked across his brain. Untold resources expended for non-starters and unviable iterations. Despair, as test after test ended in failure. Promising solutions turned sour as conditions deteriorated. He'd been here before. Six times, in fact. But this time . . .

The sense of dread was so much heavier.

Six experiments in a row ended before they could even leave the ground. They made him doubt his dreams. They made him doubt his reason for living. And then she came along.

To think that an infant shrieking with full lungs could bring him anything but irritation. He'd actually been ecstatic hearing that incessant wailing. It represented progress. A viable specimen.

He pumped a mind boggling number of resources into her growth and development. He wanted to ensure that any and all avenues of failure were nipped in the bud. And he'd been successful. Finally. She continued to grow and exceeded his expectations at every turn. She was more than he could have hoped for. She was perfect.

And now she was dead. Another failure. He'd been so convinced she would be the one to usher in his dream. He was so sure.

Part of him knew that he'd never achieve perfection like that again. Nemu was the perfect storm. She was a perfect assistant, a perfect tool. A perfect . . .

Kurotsuchi started. When had he become so obsessed with perfection? He was a man of science. A realist. Perfection had no place in his view of the world. It was foolish to expect it, and even more foolish to claim it. Was this the result of nearly two years of relative peace? Could a scientist of his caliber really fall so far in such a short time? Apparently so.

When was the last time he'd seriously adjusted Nemu's parameters? When was the last time he applied his research to the Nemuri Project? He'd become complacent. So much wasted time.

He was a fool.

A failure.

One by one, the instruments in Nemu's body began to shut down. Without continued stimulus, they had no reason to continue functioning. Kurotsuchi received their final readings, numb. In his despair, he almost ignored the data completely. What good was it now? Nemuri Nanagō, his greatest creation, was a failure. She had died despite reaching such marvelous heights, and the Nemuri Project had died with her. Kurotsuchi's dream was dead.

And now he'd die at the hands of some Quincy. It would be better to self-detonate than give him the satisfaction.

The final instrument went silent, and out of habit, Kurotsuchi checked over the string of numbers passing through his mind. It was mostly warnings and error messages, as expected. He filtered through those alerts, discovering an account of Nemu's final moments. She had bypassed many of his safeguards to disable her nonessential functions and had even repurposed parts of her soul. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

In the end, she'd been struck by the Quincy's power. Every system that wasn't disabled was practically destroyed in a fraction of a second. It was depressing, frankly. As her vital functions abruptly stopped a string of information regarding The Deathdealing took its place. Useless, useless, use . . .

Oh? Kurotsuchi's eyes widened and a smile crept across his face. He felt like laughing. More, he actually felt like dancing!

He really was a fool.

Kurotsuchi lifted his chin and spoke loud enough to interrupt whatever pointless drivel was leaking out of Askin's mouth. "Bankai!"

+ Shift +

A noxious purple cloud exploded out around the Shinigami Captain. Askin put on a puzzled face, but he couldn't hide his satisfaction. He'd been waiting for this moment since the start of the fight.

Reports claimed that Kurotsuchi's Bankai excreted a potent poison. A poison derived from Kurotsuchi's own blood. Were he a living human, that might have posed a problem. As a soul being, however, his body and spirit were essentially one and the same. And since Askin was already immune to Kurotsuchi's Reiatsu, his blood, and therefore his poison, wouldn't be a threat.

It was all too perfect! Try as he might, the Captain of the 12th Division couldn't win. "Alright, Captain! Bring on that big golden worm! Thrash and struggle with all your heart before I bring you down for good!" Asking laughed. He couldn't help it.

The massive purple cloud blew his way, eroding parts of his skin and burning his lungs, but those annoyances passed quickly. A little variation wasn't going to overcome the adaptability of Hasshein.

"Once again, Your confidence is misplaced, Quincy." Kurotsuchi said. The poison was finally carried away by the wind, giving Askin a full view of the reportedly unsettling Bankai.

He took a step back, his mouth going dry. That wasn't what he was told to expect. It wasn't even close!

Rather than a disgusting golden worm with a childlike face, a giant, obese man with deep purple skin lounged against a structure that looked suspiciously like flesh. A jagged scar ran up the length of its bulbous body, almost like it had burst and been sewn back together. It's head was deformed and it released a small cloud of sickly vapor with every labored breath. Kurotsuchi stood, albeit barely, just before the hulking monstrosity. "I'm sure you know of my Bankai, Quincy," the Captain said in almost gasping breaths. "Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō, a frightening sight to behold. Though, not the one you were expecting, correct?"

Askin grit his teeth. How did this Shinigami always manage to put him on his back foot like this? "It doesn't matter what it looks like. It's still your power, so it can't touch me."

"Ah, but it does matter. You see, I've made some modifications. The Bankai you see before you is one that is adaptable. I feed it information and it produces a suitable serum for the situation at hand."

"Are you making fun of me, Captain?"

"Always." The already massive body of the Bankai began to expand. Its stomach inflated, growing more and more stretched. With an ear piercing cry its stomach ripped open. Another deformed monstrosity emerged from the hole, wailing like a newborn babe. This one had the golden skin and youthful face that Askin was told to expect, but its body was much more humanoid. The thing crawled its way between Askin and Kurotsuchi, screaming its freaky little head off.

Then it, too, started to inflate.

Kurotsuchi said, "I received some very potent information from my assistant's body moments ago and fed it to my Zanpakuto. This is the result."

The giant golden baby exploded, releasing another cloud of dark purple gas. The smell was horrible-rancid, with a hint of rotten eggs-but otherwise inoffensive. Askin waved his hand, trying to clear the air in front of his face. He looked to Kurotsuchi, expecting some kind of reaction, triumph or woe. But the strange man just stood there, staring. Expectant.

Askin sighed. "How many times do I have to explain, Captain? My Vollständig adapts my immunity. Say it with me now: because I'm already immune to your Reiatsu, it will hold true no matter how you change or modify it." He strode forward, eager to be free of this nauseating gas. "And here I was, expecting you to pull out something truly special." Breathing in fresh air, he raised his arm. Kurotsuchi was sure to enjoy the same treatment his doll received.

Bile spilled violently from Askin's mouth as he doubled over. He stared at the digestive juices splattered on the ground with wide eyes. Then he vomited again. His stomach kept emptying itself until there was nothing left. He continued to retch even then.

A sound like grinding metal reached his ears. Kurotsuchi was laughing at him. "Allow me to offer you a compliment in earnest, Askin Nakk le Vaar. You used your knowledge of my abilities in concert with your own competently. There was just one little detail you forgot to account for." He sheathed his sword, sliding it down the front of his robes. "Throughout this battle, I've been changing. Growing. Dozens of small experiments mixed with streams of new data to produce the result you are currently experiencing."

Askin felt blood vessels in his eyes pop. The Captain wasn't making sense. It didn't matter how many experiments he did or how much data he collected. The Deathdealing would adapt and render his countermeasures useless!

"I know what you're thinking," Kurotsuchi said, sending a chill down Askin's spine. "And you are absolutely correct. Your power is almost unbeatable. Its ability to adapt outstripped my own ingenuity. So I copied it." Askin froze. There was no way he could just copy a Quincy's Schrift. "I collected heaps of information from our clashes, but my Lieutenant's death allowed me to put all of the pieces together. The poison released by Konjiki Ashisogi Jizō was not meant to destroy you, its purpose was simply to mimic your power. Do you understand yet, Quincy? It is not my power that is poisoning you. It is your own."

Ridiculous! The Deathdealing didn't have a weakness like that. There was no way. Askin sneered at Kurotsuchi and wiped his mouth. "I don't know how you've bypassed my ability, Shinigami, but it won't do you any good in the end. Did you know I can increase the intensity of The Deathdealing at will? Allow me to give you a demonstration."

Kurotsuchi grimaced. His hands started to shake and he appeared to be on the verge of collapse. That would teach him to act all high and mighty.

Askin's knee dropped into the pool of bile he'd left on the ground. He looked down, bewildered. He wasn't that tired, was he? He'd barely exerted himself. He tried to push himself back up, but nearly toppled over as his strength momentarily gave way.

No way. This couldn't be happening. Askin applied The Deathdealing to himself, trying to raise his tolerance for his own power, something he never thought he'd have to do. A stabbing pain in his chest quickly spread to the rest of his torso. The more he tried to immunize himself, the worse his symptoms were getting!

Kurotsuchi laughed, a raspy noise escaping in gasps between fits of coughing. Askin looked at him, defiant despite the pain, but the look on his face was terrifying. The Captain smiled ear to ear. Blood seeped from between his overly large teeth. His yellowing eyes pierced Askin's soul even as they clouded over.

He'd been telling the truth!

"The way I see it," Kurotsuchi said between fits, 'you have two options. You could try and outlast me, hope that the effects of my poison disappear when I die, and still probably die yourself. Or, you can completely sever the flow of your Reiatsu, stopping your power from killing you, but giving me time to recover and kill you instead. Choose quickly. The clock is ticking."

Was he insane?! He couldn't win by his own power so he decided to bring Askin down with him? Madness! But no, he had to be bluffing. He was trying to force Askin to make a decision that would give him the edge. Yes, that had to be it! There was a third option. There had to be!

But what? What could he do in this situation? He could shoot Kurotsuchi. Yes! Askin tried to raise his arm, but his body refused to listen. He couldn't even aim his weapon. Could he flee, then? No, that wouldn't work either. The Deathdealing was what was killing him, so even if he ran, this deterioration would just follow him.

Askin could feel the Captain's eager smile. The malice stabbed into his skin, seeping into his veins. Something surged up Askin's throat. A warm, metallic taste filled his mouth as he vomited blood. He was going to die if this kept up. He wouldn't get to see the new world that His Majesty was going to create. All of those new and interesting possibilities!

He couldn't let it end this way. Not when they were so close. He had to survive!

The Deluxe Gift Ball vanished as Askin cancelled Hasshein. Without Vollständig, The Deathdealing wouldn't be as potent, which should give him time to escape. He pushed himself off the ground, finding strength once again. Once he was a safe distance away, he could cut off his Reiatsu and hide until the new world was born. He turned to flee, but the strength that had suddenly returned was gone just as quickly. He collapsed in a heap, vision growing fuzzy.

His ears were ringing, but Kurotsuchi's voice reached his ears uninhibited. "Tick, tock. Tick, tock."

Askin squirmed using all of his strength to look back at the horrible Shinigami. He should have been in the same boat, on the verge of death, hoping that his opponent would kick the bucket first.

But no. Kurotsuchi sat up, a syringe sticking out of his neck. He shuddered as the mysterious liquid inside entered his veins, but his breathing became steadier and the cloudiness in his eyes cleared up.

It was over. Kurotsuchi Mayuri was a monster that couldn't be killed. Certainly not without painful self sacrifice. Continuing to fight was pointless. It would only get Askin killed.

He severed the flow of Reishi, ensuring that his own Reiatsu could no longer poison him. He could surrender now. Surely, the madman would take the opportunity to collect him as a test subject rather than kill him. He could survive this.

If only his limbs weren't so cold. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes. His arms and legs wouldn't move. The heat in his chest was vanishing and his blood felt like cement in his veins. Was his heart even beating anymore?

His eyelids felt heavier than lead weights. If they closed, he wasn't sure he could open them again. This was the end, wasn't it? Why did he suddenly feel so at ease? The life leaving his body and mind was surely a contributing factor, but there was something tugging on the fraying strands of Askin's thoughts.

There was something satisfactory about this sort of death. Askin could rest easy knowing that The Deathdealing was a vindictive ability.

His life was over, but his power would ensure he wouldn't be the only one to end.

Take my final gift and curse the intellect that allowed you to defeat me, he thought as nothingness consumed his awareness.

I hope you suffer, Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

+ Shift +

Kurotsuchi breathed deep. He savored the feeling of his lungs filling with air as opposed to fluid. He released the syringe that just barely preserved him, letting it shatter on the ground. That was the last of the emergency serum that Nemu delivered to him. Having to rely on a failure to survive was an affront to his genius . . . but he couldn't help lingering beside those tiny shards.

It was time to start over. Again.

In the grand scheme, his seventh attempt had ended prematurely. It was a frustrating result. In the scope of the experiment itself, however, Nemuri Nanagō had surpassed all expectations. The data she produced throughout her life would be indispensable to the Nemuri Project going forward.

Perhaps he could preserve her body and use it as a teaching supplement in the next experiment. Though, perhaps he should ensure there was a next experiment first.

The Quincy's body had fallen still. His chest did not expand and his body was growing colder by the moment. His eyes stared sightlessly into the air. Unless his power allowed him to become immune to death itself, the fight was over.

Satisfied, Kurotsuchi started towards Nemu's body. He'd need to act quickly if he wanted to make sure it remained a viable sample. He took a few steps, shuffling. When the muscles in his legs seized up, he didn't think much of it. Exhaustion was hitting him hard, that was all. Then his vision started to swim.

The information being transmitted by his retinas was jumbled. Details warped and shifted focus at random. The contrast between light and shadow became extremely pronounced, giving him a splitting headache. He tried to reach for some simple stabilizing concoctions he kept on his person, but found that his hands were shaking too much. He just managed to switch motor control over to more mechanical systems before he hit the ground. Blessedly, his mind remained clear. At least, for now.

A deadman's switch? He shot a jumbled glare in the general direction of the Quincy's body. He could appreciate the deviousness of such a trick. One did not reach this level of pettiness by respecting one's opponents. He'd have to file the idea away and see if he could implement it later.

Before that, however, he had to focus. His body was quickly eating itself alive. Alarms and warnings made a cacophonous noise in his head as several vital systems stopped functioning. There was no time to lose.

Kurotsuchi directed his arms, or rather the artificial muscles layered over the natural ones, to drag him to Nemu. When he finally reached her, he mustered up the strength to bite down, activating one of the switches hidden in his molars. Help was on its way, assuming everything was functioning as intended.

Hands shaking violently, he gently pressed his palm against Nemu's head. He only had one shot at this, and artificial musculature could be finicky when not physically supported. He sent a series of precise commands and heard a loud crack. Carefully, he lifted a large chunk of Nemu's skull away, revealing her brain. He couldn't preserve her entire body, not in this predicament, so he had to at least secure the most valuable part.

Sweating heavily-partially due to the stress of the procedure, but mostly as a result of his deteriorating condition-Kurotsuchi pressed his fingers into the brain stem, roughly severing it. He lifted his former Lieutenant's brain from her skull, swaddling it in his robes.

There was no way to keep it in perfect condition without proper equipment, but a little surface damage was acceptable.

A distant, low rumble announced the arrival of his emergency support. The sleek life support tube crashed down no more than ten meters away seconds later. A short, manageable distance . . . under normal circumstances. Relying purely on his mechanical musculature, it would be a gauntlet just going that far.

If he could get to the pod, it's plethora of medical devices would stabilize him. It wouldn't need to work too hard. If only he could move just a little faster.

One of his arms stopped moving. The connection between his muscles and the mechanical prosthetics had decayed too far. The Deathdealing was no longer poisoning him, but the damage had been done. A chain reaction, a deadly cascade of decay, had started.

Kurotsuchi had only managed to drag himself halfway to the pod when he determined it was impossible to reach. He turned over, frantically searching through his supply of serums and concoctions for something that might save him. In his haste, he fumbled the vials. They clinked to the ground beside him.

His vision was too far gone to make out which syringe was which, so he grabbed one at random and plunged the needle into his chest with the last of his strength.

He gasped, eyes growing wide but not seeing.

Then he fell still.

+ Break +

Argyle the leaf shuffled back and forth, slippered feet grinding lightly against the clean cut stone. The others fretted quietly around the pedestal. They had every right to be nervous, but there was a clear air of relief around their whispers. It wouldn't be any of them standing atop that ceremonial dais. That burden was Argyle's alone.

He was going to die . . . or, something close to it. The numbers weren't exactly clear on that. It was a matter that had been discussed in great detail leading up to now. If he did die, what would that mean for the rest of them?

Argyle felt sick. He feared a great many things-echoes from the fragments that made up his spirit haunted him constantly-but death was chief among them. Amalgamated souls weren't supposed to die. Eternal life was a given.

And yet, here he was, preparing to sacrifice himself.

At least people would stop calling him a coward. Maybe.

"You look pale. Perhaps you should sit down." Ichibē said, appearing suddenly. Argyle practically jumped through the ceiling. He turned to the bearded man who wasn't standing next to him a moment ago. "No? Alright then."

Argyle took deep breaths, settling his thundering heart. It was one thing for someone with an ounce of subtlety snuck up on him, but when Ichibē did it, he couldn't help feeling embarrassed. He tried to ignore his bizarre contemporary, but the blasted man decided to strike up a conversation anyway.

"This is a great thing you will be doing. I think you should be very proud of yourself, Argyle. There are few who would be willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good. It speaks volumes about your character." Ichibē punctuated his praise with a hearty laugh. Too loud, as usual. Would he ever learn to behave like a normal person? The way his facial muscles twitched in incongruous ways, and that one of his eyes was inspecting the room on its own as he spoke seemed to indicate that he would not.

Argyle pointedly did not respond. Ichibē was an oddity beyond oddity, and it gave him the creeps.

Amalgam souls were already far removed from the perspectives and ideals of the living. Their spirits were formed from the tattered remnants of souls as they made the traumatic journey to the spirit world. Echoes found within those remnants gave Argyle and his contemporaries insight into these things. It was understood that a living person would have a difficult time fathoming the idiosyncrasies of any Amalgamate.

Ichibē was baffling even from their inhuman perspective. Most Amalgamates were single beings, the fragments fusing together in their creation. Ichibē, however, appeared to operate as a colony of individual spirits. Every part of him acted as if being controlled by a different consciousness. It was unsettling. He didn't understand any sort of propriety and had trouble modulating his volume and personality. At least, that's how he appeared. Argyle had a theory about the way this almost alien creature before him acted.

That rogue eye wasn't drifting aimlessly. It studied the room, the people deliberating over the dais. His other eye focused on Argyle-uncomfortably so-and worked in concert with his lips, which stretched back into an approximation of a smile. All the while, the muscles in his face vibrated. They jerked and twitched, some twisting towards the dais as if to pull the rest of the face in that direction, others sliding into position to try and sell the attempt at a smile.

Ichibē was strange and disconcerting at the best of times, yes, but he wasn't a monster. He was a hivemind, like a bundle of insects wrapped up into one form trying to maintain their nest. The image made Argyle shudder, but he was sure he was right. With his focus split, Ichibē's individual parts would try to pursue a variety of interests. And yet, despite this oddity, he was lauded as a talented, if eccentric, researcher. There was only one plausible explanation for this discrepancy.

He needed a goal. Something to focus his entire being on.

If true, then he would be the perfect person to trust with Argyle's future.

"I have something I'd like you to do, Ichibē." Argyle said, wringing his hands. Even now, he couldn't look the other man in the eye. "A personal request."

"Anything, old friend." Ichibē's other eye swung back around, joining its partner in staring way too hard.

Argyle swallowed. His throat suddenly felt so dry. "When I step up onto that dais and sacrifice myself, I'll probably die. Maybe not in the literal sense, but in a figurative way. Do you understand my meaning?"

"More or less."

Fantastic. "So, the thing is, chances are good that I won't be able to experience the universe that I'm saving even if I continue to exist. In light of this, I'd have you carry two burdens." Argyle turned, doing his best to look into Ichibē's bulging eyes. "First," he said, raising a finger. Ichibē's eyes focused on the digit. A good sign . . . probably. "I want you to protect the linchpin that I am to become. Maintain it, and ensure that the universe continues to exist forever."

He raised a second finger, and one of Ichibē's eyes fixated on it. Not as much a good sign, but Argyle was too far along to stop now. "Second, I want you to continue experiencing the world in my place. I won't be able to, you know, move anymore, so you'll have to do it for me."

Ichibē blinked, eyes focusing. He stroked his beard, looking contemplative. Argyle was worried for a moment before realizing that all of Ichibē was contemplating. He looked like a whole, singular being making up his mind.

"Those sound like reasonable requests," he finally said, leaning in close. "I will do these things for you, Argyle the leaf. It is the least I can do for the savior of the world."

Argyle breathed a sigh of relief. Then immediately felt the crushing weight of his responsibility. What he'd just done was essentially getting his affairs in order. It was akin to accepting his fate. He felt sick all over again.

He stood side by side with Ichibē in silence for quite a while. The larger man seemed content, but the unspoken pressure made Argyle itchy. He'd just burdened this man with a heavy request. Shouldn't he say something? Express his gratitude somehow? The longer he waited to say something, though, the harder it got to even make a sound. So he stood there, writhing in discomfort until another of his contemporaries called him over.

As Patch took a record of his condition, Argyle locked eyes with Ichibē, who nodded. For once, his entire self acted in concert. The finality of the gesture stuck Argyle. This was it. The end.

He stepped up onto the platform that would function as his tomb. There was no guarantee he would leave a body, however, so it was mostly symbolic. It might be more appropriate to think of it as a monument, he thought. 'This is where Argyle the leaf, savior of the universe and all of our immortal souls, gave his life,' the hypothetical plaque would say. It would conveniently leave out any mention of his fear. He really didn't want to die.

But, he reminded himself, this was necessary. Entropy governed the current world. All things ended. It was inevitable. Even if he didn't die now, he would die eventually. Neither of those options was acceptable to Argyle, frankly, both as an Amalgam and as a coward.

Still, he trembled as the others retreated. The science wasn't exact, but they suspected a great amount of energy would be expelled by the ritual. It would be too dangerous for anyone else to be too near. Reluctantly, he gave the signal he was ready.

And the ritual began.

Argyle reached deep within himself. His soul was the key. He willed it to change, to be molded into a form that would serve his purpose. In doing so, he invited the very fabric of reality-its fundamental aspects-into his being. The universe was one great big concept. By funneling one tiny, human-sized portion of it through his own eternal spirit, he was effectively funneling all of it through himself.

He felt hot and cold at the same time. He felt pain and ecstasy beyond what he would have thought possible. He felt the weight and presence, and force of the universe coursing through him. As his mind, his very sense of self, was being blasted away by the torrent of energy, he grabbed hold of the flow, willing it in the same way he willed his soul.

With this final act, he would halt the march of entropy, guaranteeing the universe's survival. He would reshape the world!

In that moment, just before he disappeared into the linchpin of his own creation, he rejoiced. He would live on, so long as the world he made continued.

+ Shift +

Yhwach gasped as a wave of sensation set his nerves on edge. He trembled, looking down at his hands. They were his hands, thankfully. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd just experienced something profoundly disturbing.

A vision. Of the past, no doubt. His connection with Pernida made that certain. What he'd seen was at once muddled and vague, as well as crisp and visceral. It was an event that occurred. An event that he had experienced. Just, not as himself.

"You saw it, didn't you?" Ukitake said through rasping breaths. He looked up at Yhwach, eyes sunken. Knowing. He'd seen the same vision.

The birth of the Soul King. The very first in a long, long line.

Yhwach scoffed. "To think that someone so weak willed could become the Soul King. It is almost disturbing."

"Is that how you saw him? I will have to disagree. You felt his fear, his apprehension, just as I did. You know what he sacrificed."

"He sacrificed because he was simply more frightened of the alternative."

"Is that not the same for all of us?" Ukitake said, holding Yhwach's gaze. It was a surprise he could even lift his head. "We ferry souls between worlds because we fear the consequences of not doing so. You Quincies destroy the souls of Hollows because you fear that they may return if you don't."

"A Shinigami has no place speculating on the motivations of a Quincy." Yhwach snapped. He clenched his fists. "Just like that coward, you make excuses. You seize power and say that it is for the greater good!"

"Do you truly believe that?"

Yhwach opened his mouth, but did not speak. That vision had imparted on him an understanding. Argyle the leaf, the original Soul King, had not been a man chasing ambitions of power and grandeur. He had been a coward, yet earnest in his desire to save the world. What Yhwach had seen even forced him to confront his impressions of Hyōsube Ichibē. The monk had indeed seemed monstrous in his contemporary's eyes, but there was no wickedness there.

Ukitake sighed, slouching. Holding his head was proving to be too much effort after all. "There is bad blood between the Balancers and the Enders, but the Soul Kings, the linchpins holding the universe together, are beyond that. Their purpose is pure."

"No, they are not pure." Yhwach felt his hackles rising. Such an ignorant way of seeing things. "Regardless of its original purpose, the Soul King's power has been used to perpetuate Balancer rule and suppress my people. That is the truth. Deny it."

No answer came. The only sound Ukitake made was that raspy wheeze. Perhaps he was too exhausted to speak. Either way, he could not deny reality.

Strangely, a part of Yhwach-small and barely audible-wished that he would.