As Kenpachi disappeared into the distance, Inoue finished helping Hinamori, so Ichigo set Shinji on the ground beside her. He moved slowly, being careful not to accidentally harm him. His care earned him a punch.
"Just put me down, idiot. I'm not a porcelain doll." Shinji griped, but he too was careful not to aggravate his broken limbs. Whatever the Quincy had done, it seemed to have worn off.
Even so, the damage had been done. Inoue could heal the actual injuries themselves, but she couldn't do anything for the shock. And it looked like having her bones spontaneously break had left Hinamori worse for wear. Shinji snapped his fingers in her face. "Hey, Momo. Look at me."
She looked up, eyes distant. She started to tremble as she spoke, "Captain . . . I'm sorry, I just . . ." She grimaced, clutching at her newly healed leg."
"It's fine." Shinji waved to the 2nd Division's Lieutenant, "Ōmaeda! I want you to take Momo and make your way back to the 4th Division barracks."
Ōmaeda saluted crisply, looking all too eager to leave the front lines. "Yessir! I'll run like the wind!"
"Good." Shinji said, wagging his finger. "When you drop her off, I want you to run even faster to catch back up with us. Got it?" A low groan escaped the Lieutenant's throat, but he nodded. Ichigo didn't miss the despair that painted his face when Shinji turned away. "Now then, once I'm all fixed up, we can get a move on." He turned to Inoue, "Orihime-chan, start on my legs first. They got pretty mangled when I fell."
"Right." Inoue got to work, wrapping Shinji's legs in light.
As soon as she did, though, a tremendous swell of Spiritual Pressure slammed into the group. Everyone snapped to attention, turning their heads to the frighteningly close source of the power.
Reiatsu erupted from the crater a short distance behind like the scalding ash ejected from a volcano. A hand, easily the size of a person's torso, gripped the lip of the hole. The rest of the body followed soon after.
"Behold and rejoice, Shinigami! For you have witnessed the miracle of my rebirth!" The formerly pulped Quincy towered over everything. The buildings lining the street couldn't have reached higher than his chest. "The name Gerard is no longer appropriate, so allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Valkyrie, bearer of the new world's will! Have at you!" An enormous sword dropped into the giant's grip and he wasted no time using it. He waved his arm, carving a deep trench in the ground, and forcing the group to scatter.
"Ōmaeda! Take Captain Hirako and Lieutenant Hinamori and retreat, if you would!" Urahara-san called. The 2nd Division's lieutenant barely hesitated before he scooped up Shinji and Hinamori and ran off at a shocking speed. Shinji's protests were too far away to hear before he got more than two words out.
Another swipe of the Quincy's sword forced everyone to reposition. When the dust cleared, There were two distinct groups separated by a jagged hole; Ichigo, Inoue, Chad, Ishida, and Tōshirō were on one side, while Urahara-san, Yoruichi, Rukia, Renji, and Rangiku were gathered on the other.
Ichigo met Urahara-san's eyes. That look made Ichigo's throat dry up. "Ichigo, you and the others need to keep moving. I doubt there's much time left." The implication was clear. They couldn't leave just one or two people to deal with this guy.
Taking a deep breath, Ichigo nodded. He turned, finding confidence in his friends' affirming looks, and started running towards the Soul King's palace. The sound of destruction almost made him look back. He was sorely tempted, but then Inoue ran up beside him, matching his pace. Ishida and Chad were there moments later, right on her heels.
He didn't need to look back. He wasn't doing this on his own. He could trust them. Everyone had their own reasons to fight. No one was being forced or dragged in.
A weight that Ichigo hadn't noticed until just then slipped away.
The four of them ran in silence, letting the sounds of destruction fade into the background.
+ Break +
Tōshirō stood against a wave of debris, covering Ichigo's advance. This was something he could do right. He was sure.
Of course, that hadn't stopped him from being wrong before.
He felt the solid feedback from each chunk of rock he destroyed, but somehow, he still felt like he wasn't doing enough. Compared to the others, he wasn't doing anything, really. Even Matsumoto was contributing more than he was. His own Lieutenant was more useful than he was.
She cooperated well with the others, filling in slight gaps in their offensive with her ash. Abarai and Kuchiki served as their main attacking force, slamming the giant Quincy with power that easily matched the Gotei Captains. Urahara and Shihōin stayed back, but Tōshirō didn't miss the defensive moves they made to allow the Lieutenants to keep the pressure on.
They were holding the enemy off competently.
Without Tōshirō.
He knew it shouldn't have been, but the idea was galling. How much effort had he put into improving himself recently? How hard had he been fighting? He should have been there on the front line. The others should have been supporting him. Those conceited notions quickly fell back on top of him. They were smothering.
What good was all of that effort, really? He'd defeated a single enemy. A single success in a sea of failures.
He'd tried so hard. To improve. To recreate himself. Better. Stronger. But it seemed like every step he took, every part of himself he tried to improve, only made him weaker.
Abarai unleashed his Bankai, blowing a large chunk of flesh off of the Quincy's shoulder. The wound healed in seconds, however, and Valkyrie seemed to physically grow as it did. Again and again, Tōshirō's comrades dealt significant damage, but the Quincy just recovered and grew. The buildings only reached his waist now.
Could Tōshirō do something? Perhaps he could prevent the Quincy's healing from activating. Or maybe he could halt the man's growth. His grip tightened on his Zanpakuto, but he hesitated.
Shikai wouldn't be enough to encase a target that large. He'd have to rely on his Bankai . . . but it scared him to even consider it.
Memories of pain flashed across his mind. Kurotsuchi's horrid voice, his disgusting face, accompanying the blinding agony. And that damned offer of assistance.
The one that Tōshirō had finally accepted.
It was shameful, but he was at the end of his rope. Hitsugaya Tōshirō simply wasn't good enough. He needed to become something greater.
When he had awoken from the nightmare of his zombification, Kurotsuchi had gotten to work. "You have tremendous potential," he'd said. "I will make it so that you are able to utilize most of it, but be warned. You may find that your power outstrips your physical limits." The twisted smile he'd worn would haunt Tōshirō for the rest of his life.
Valkyrie swung his arms, knocking not only the Lieutenants to the ground, but Shihōin as well. He laughed, a deep, booming noise. "You are all doing well," he said. "I have never experienced so many miracles. You are certainly putting my blessed Schrift to the test! If I sustain much more damage, I may be forced to abandon the name Valkyrie as well!"
Tōshirō ground his teeth. Ichigo and the others were surely far enough away now. He shouldn't have to guard their backs any longer.
He swallowed his anxieties and squeezed the hilt of his sword until his knuckles nearly split. He would not let the pain and shame he endured go to waste. "Bankai!" Ice wrapped around his arms and legs, forming sharp talons. The temperature dropped dramatically. The familiar frozen petals formed over his head, and with them came a wave of power unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It raged inside of him, demanding he release it.
So he did.
Tōshirō raised his sword and the temperature dropped even more. Power coalesced at his back. He didn't need to see it to know what shape it was taking. He slashed the air and Daiguren Hyōrinmaru soared through the air, looking bulkier than usual. It slammed into the Quincy's body, passing through as if it were nothing more than an illusion.
Valkyrie didn't seem to care, laughing as he inspected his unwounded chest. He set his sights on Tōshirō, grinning. His massive chest expanded as he breathed in, but before he could release that breath a wave of ice crashed into him.
Towering spires of ice shot up along the path of Hyōrinmaru's flight. Near mountain-sized glaciers that would have taken a considerable effort and a great deal of focus to manifest on his own simply sprouted from the ground with just that one swing. It made the old Hyōrinmaru-touted as the most powerful ice and snow type Zanpakuto-look meek by comparison.
Valkyrie was consumed by massive frozen structures jutting up from the ground and out from his own body. In moments he was completely encased. Frozen solid.
Tōshirō held his breath. It didn't seem real. This was his potential?
He turned his head, wondering. The amount of power coursing through him, and the look and feel of Hyōrinmaru changing were both drastic departures from his usual Bankai. What else might have changed?
The ice covering his arms and legs seemed thinner, yet less transparent. The wings on his back had also changed, becoming sleeker, sharper. His eyes followed the swooping lines of those wings into the air above his head. There, his inspection stopped, and his eyes widened.
One group of petals was gone. Another was almost half gone.
That couldn't be right. He should have been able to fight his hardest for several minutes before the petals began to really melt. Was this a side effect of Kurotsuchi's modifications? One simple swipe of his sword and he was already halfway to being a useless bystander?
Of course. Tōshirō should have known that any help that Kurotsuchi offered would end up as a double-edged sword. "Sure, this power will allow you to reach your potential, but only for a few swings," the remaining petals seemed to say.
That bastard was probably laughing it up imagining the predicament he created.
The ice surrounding Valkyrie cracked and burst. A powerful gust sent frozen shards raining down on the entire area. "Incredible! I have built up more miracles than I ever thought possible, and still you manage to give me more! This must be fate!" The Quincy was unfazed by his frigid imprisonment.
Tōshirō cursed. All that power and still it didn't do a damn thing.
The Lieutenants leaped into action, resuming their attempts to bring the giant down. They tore at his flesh, but it grew harder. They slashed at his limbs, but they grew thicker. They threw everything they had at him, but he recovered from each and every blow, stronger and more imposing.
They had to overwhelm him somehow. Tōshirō glared at the blade in his hands, focus knitting his brow. In his current state, he and Hyōrinmaru should have been unstoppable. The only thing holding them back was a shortened time limit. He breathed in and made a decision.
He'd been looking at this predicament from the wrong angle. His time limit was significantly reduced, but that didn't mean he was useless. It only meant that he had to use the power he was given to finish the fight as quickly as possible. The only issue that remained, was controlling all this new power.
With both hands on the hilt of his Zanpakuto, Tōshirō held the sword at his side. One concentrated strike would sap too much strength. He needed to release his power in portions so that he could assault the enemy and wear him down.
Slowly, he released the air in his lungs. The only thing that existed was the opponent in front of him. Four quick slashes, back and forth, sent a series of icy sickles up at the Quincy's body. They left trails of frost in their wake that sprouted more frozen spires. When they reached their target, they burst, cleaving into his body and spraying a mist that quickly froze, widening the gashes.
Valkyrie stumbled, grimacing. He'd been hurt. Properly hurt! Tōshirō quickly spared a glance at the petals over his head. A single petal had disappeared, but that still left him with five. He could do this!
Tōshirō took another breath and unleashed another wave of attacks. More focus, more precision. He could see it clearly now. With enough time, he could master this power as surely as he'd mastered Hyōrinmaru before.
Another breath, another volley. Valkyrie's face was contorted, pain tightening his jaw and wrinkling his skin. Massive fissures littered his body, held open and raw by layers of sturdy ice. His miraculous healing ability could be overcome! Tōshirō breathed in for another attack, but then Matsumoto dropped down in front of him.
"Captain! Slow down for just one second!" She practically screamed at him, concern and frustration plain on her face.
"Out of the way, Matsumoto. I can finish this." He set his stance, but she didn't budge. Couldn't she see that his attacks were working? He was the only one capable of defeating this enemy. He cocked his head, trying to look past her. Hopefully, the Quincy hadn't taken this brief pause to recover.
Valkyrie was still reeling from the last volley, thankfully. Now, he just had to-
Kuchiki was dragging Abarai away from the battlefield. One of his legs was encased in ice. Shihōin was nursing a frozen limb herself. Neither seemed to be grievously wounded, but in that moment, the actual extent of their injuries was the furthest thing from Tōshirō's mind.
He'd struck his own allies. It wasn't his intention, of course, but that was irrelevant. In his urgency, he'd failed to consider the positioning of his comrades. In the worst case, they could have taken one of his attacks head on. They were far from weak, but in his current condition, they could have died.
Tōshirō's grip on his Zanpakuto loosened. He looked up at Matsumoto and saw that she, too, was coated in frost. "I'm sorry," was all he managed to say.
"Don't apologize, Captain. Just watch where you're swinging." She turned with a huff.
Tōshirō stepped up beside her. He had to do better. He couldn't just keep raging at his mistakes. Shihōin stretched her thawed arm, and Abarai's leg was almost free as well. The world wasn't going to end because he messed up.
The Quincy grunted, and all of the ice covering his wounds shattered. In moments, he was fully recovered and larger than ever. His skin glittered with a nearly metallic sheen, and parts of his face appeared to be sprouting some kind of armor. In more than just his size, he now resembled some kind of mythic colossus. "I am reborn again! My name . . . Valkyrie no longer fits this divine form." A blue-white light shone from behind his eyes. A faint rainbow appeared over his head, almost like a halo. "I am an avatar of the divine will of the world that is to come! Prepare yourselves, Shinigami!"
The others were prepared. They stood at the ready.
They all looked to Tōshirō.
His was the only power that could slow the giant down. They were waiting for him to make a move.
"We'll follow your lead, Captain, so do your best." Matsumoto smiled at him, raising her Zanpakuto. Tōshirō nodded and raised his own sword.
The plan hadn't changed. He'd hit the Quincy with volleys of ice, but this time, he'd space his attacks out. That should give the others enough room to capitalize on the damage he was doing. He breathed in, and-
The giant took a step. The ground rumbled violently, and a blast of pressure almost threw Tōshirō off his feet. An astronomically large blade sprouted from the Quincy's hand as he swung his arm low. The tip tore into the ground and surged straight for Tōshirō and Matsumoto.
Frantic, Tōshirō swung his sword. A wave of ice slammed into the massive blade, causing it to freeze and snap. Even with the tip of his weapon stuck in the ground, the Quincy followed through with his swing. The resulting storm demolished buildings and sent Tōshirō flipping through the air.
"Matsumoto!" He cried, reaching out for his Lieutenant. But she was being swept in a different direction. Their comrades leapt in, laying into the colossal back of the enemy, but he ignored them. At this point, their best was little more than the buzzing of insects.
His attention was solely on Tōshirō. The tip of his blade regrew and he swung again, coming down from on high. Tōshirō met the crushing attack with his own slash. The blade froze once again, but Tōshirō didn't intend to let it break on its own this time. He swung again, putting the full weight of his unleashed strength into the attack.
The air transformed. A wall of ice slammed into the blade, utterly destroying it, and continuing on towards the giant calling himself an avatar of divine will. The ice collided with his outstretched arm, crushing it, freezing it, then crushing it again all the way to the shoulder.
Tōshirō landed and broke into a sprint. He grunted and shouted, throwing a series of clumsy volleys at the Quincy. He needed to get back to the others so they could coordinate properly. He spotted Matsumoto in the distance and stopped attacking. He should have bought them enough time to come up with a plan.
The icy claws on the ends of his hands and feet evaporated. His eyes widened as his strength did the same. Tōshirō hit the ground in a rolling heap. The last of the petals must have disappeared, he concluded when he came to stop, unable to so much as turn his head.
What a screw up. How were the others going to defeat that giant without Hyōrinmaru's ice? They could retreat until he recovered, but how long would that be? For all Tōshirō knew, Kurotsuchi's modifications could have extended his down time a great deal.
"Captain?! Are you alright?" Matsumoto's voice reached him, but she was still pretty far away. He tried to call out to let her know he was fine, but before he could . . .
The world went white. He couldn't see anything. Couldn't feel anything, either.
Then the pain started.
The sound of his own agonized screams filled his ears. A sharp, shredding pain permeated his entire body, inside and out. He thrashed, back arching, as his soul seemed to flay itself. Nothing else existed. The Quincy, Matsumoto, the entire world was consumed by that pain.
Kurotsuchi's words played back in his mind. Jagged shards of glass scraping against his brain. "Be wary, Captain. The consequences for ignoring your limits can be . . . severe."
+ Shift +
Kisuke knelt down. He looked from Rangiku, to the giant Quincy, and finally down at Captain Hitsugaya. The young man was convulsing, screaming his throat raw. He likely wasn't even conscious at this point if Kisuke's assumptions held true.
Those last, desperate attacks from the 10th Division's Captain stopped the so-called avatar in his tracks, but he wouldn't be delayed for long.
"Yoruichi, be a dear and help our friends keep that big fellow at bay, would you?" Kisuke ignored her sneer and said, "Bankai."
A giant doll, draped in red, Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame, coalesced at his back. Her hands gently cupped Captain Hitsugaya, isolating him, giving Kisuke access to everything that he was. He couldn't remember the last time he brought his Bankai out in the open like this.
Had he ever done so?
"Can you really help him?" Rangiku asked.
"I can certainly try. It'll take a great deal of focus, though. So I need you to keep the enemy off of my back." He shot Yoruichi a look. "Please?"
Yoruichi stood there, looking at him. She sniffed, reading the implications in his request. She wouldn't be able to get away with using less than her full strength in this fight. She'd have to reveal her evolved Shunkō today, whether she liked it or not.
"Fine," she said.
She took the Lieutenant and ran off towards Rukia and Renji. Leaving Kisuke to his work. Which was well and truly cut out for him.
He could see Mayuri's hands in this all the way down. This sort of slapdash restructuring was so him it hurt. Hitsugaya's soul had been cut apart and grafted together. It was barely being held together by a spiritual framework, and worse yet, that framework didn't extend to the Captain's body. No wonder he was in so much pain, his soul was practically exploding and his body was being seared from the inside by it.
He could almost hate Kurotsuchi Mayuri if he wasn't so impressed by his ingenuity. Only a truly skilled hand could construct something so unstable and keep it from unraveling immediately.
The Quincy released a roar that made Kisuke wince. He was breaking free of the frozen restraints and regrowing his arm. Assuming the pattern held, he'd also be more powerful now.
Then the sky turned an ominous red. Kisuke could have believed it was part of the giant's ridiculous power if not for the city-sized rock that appeared in the clouds.
Wonderful. That was what he needed right now.
He put the world-ending meteor out of his mind. He had to trust that someone else would deal with it. Right now, he had to give Hitsugaya his attention. Benihime's finger twitched, creating an incision into the Captain's soul. From there, he delved into the framework within, trying to make some sense of Kurotsuchi's work.
It was a mess, frankly. His solutions were so messy that they created a litany of other problems that forced him to implement more messy solutions. Did it ever end? It was somehow more chaotic than when Kisuke first had him released from the Maggot's Nest. The most baffling thing, though, was that it worked. It worked extraordinarily well.
Kisuke could see clearly, through the mess, how each minor adjustment funneled and focused Hitsugaya's power. This wasn't optimal.
It was over optimal.
Wiping sweat from his brow, Kisuke set to work unraveling the tangle that was Hitsugaya's soul. His will was transferred through Benihime, the doll acting as his hands. The first thing he needed to do was stop those convulsions. He glanced up at the desperate battle in the distance.
The divine will swung his sword through the air. But the Shinigami were too agile to be struck by his gigantic attacks. The Quincy seemed to realize this as well. A broad, round shield sprouted from his other arm and he spun with that arm held out. This time, he managed to deal some damage. Rukia and Renji managed to avoid a direct blow, but the turbulent wake of the shield sent them tumbling. Rangiku was too slow. The shield clipped her, sending her spiraling towards the ground.
Yoruichi was there to catch her, fortunately. She set the Lieutenant down out of sight. When she returned to the battlefield, Kisuke got the impression that she was looking back at him. She could be stubborn about how she fought, but now was not the time for pride.
"Do it," he said.
Light fell from the sky, cracking the air. The hair on Kisuke's arms stood on end. He grinned. Her sphere of influence had expanded since they last tested this ability's limits. He held out hope that she'd found a way to keep her wits while it was active.
She leapt into the air trailing electricity like she was draped in lightning. The avatar of divine will swung, but Yoruichi landed on the edge of his shield, running along the rim, an alley cat racing across a fence. She zipped this way and that, bounding over the Quincy's vast arms and chest. When he started looking truly turned around, she struck.
A short hop was all Kisuke could see, but the giant sank to one knee as his shoulder drooped. He fixated on Yoruichi, now lounging on the shield's rim. He raised his sword arm, preparing to crush her. As the blade started its descent, however, it slowed. The divine will's eyes widened as Rukia landed on his fist. Her full power wasn't suited to a prolonged battle, but she was still capable of freezing her opponents, albeit slowly.
And she was not alone. Renji appeared over the Quincy's head and dove. He collided with the frozen arm at the shoulder, and an immense blast of Reishi hacked through the limb in one go.
The divine will cried out. But those pained yells quickly turned to laughter. His arm regrew in seconds, and his dislocated shoulder reset itself. He grew larger before Kisuke's eyes, sending out a forceful pulse that beat against Kisuke's body.
That was no good. The more damage they did, the more powerful he would become. In the worst case, he might even become strong enough to withstand Hitsugaya's icy attacks. They couldn't afford to give him that kind of time.
Kisuke breathed out, relieved, as Hitsugaya's body fell still. His agonized cries were quieter now, too. That was a start, but the core problem was still going strong. Hitsugaya's soul was consuming his body, and the only way Kisuke could see to stop the process was to unravel the rampaging soul entirely. The young man would die if he did that, and wouldn't that just defeat the purpose of this whole endeavor.
He needed a true solution, not some hackneyed stopgap. Kisuke returned to the drawing board, starting from the top.
Kurotsuchi's modifications unlocked the young Captain's potential, giving him access to a much greater reservoir of power than he was used to. This extra power was too much for Hitsugaya to handle, and so he was self-destructing.
His potential was unlocked . . . put another way, he was given access to power he normally would have gained later in his life. That power put a heavy strain on his soul, but the strain was much more damaging to his body. His young body.
Benihime's fingers twitched before Kisuke could finalize his thoughts. If Kisuke couldn't undo the modifications that Kurotsuchi made, then he'd just have to make additional modifications. Ones that would synergize with the changes currently destroying Hitsugaya from the inside.
Kisuke licked his lips. He needed to work quickly. The Quincy was quickly gaining the upper hand.
The Lieutenants fought valiantly, but even their new and improved abilities were falling behind the durability and toughness of the enemy. They beat and slashed at his body, but he brushed them off, laughing.
And he continued to grow. The divine will was quickly approaching the height of the fallen Soul King's palace. Soon enough, he'd dwarf even that. With another hearty laugh, he swatted Rukia and Renji out of the air, leaving Yoruichi to face the colossus on her own.
Were it anyone else, Kisuke might have been worried.
Yoruichi continued her assault alone, striking faster and harder with each attack. She didn't seem to be having much of an effect, as the Quincy continued to laugh, but his movements were frantic. He swatted at her, swinging his arms in wild patterns. He only managed to purposefully deflect her or block an attack occasionally.
It was frustrating to watch. She had him outmatched, but he was durable enough to take it. They were at a stalemate. Yoruichi's movements were starting to become more anxious as well. She was regressing, becoming more and more wild as time went on. It could be a problem if she lost herself completely, but Kisuke believed she could hang on to that sliver of awareness.
His faith was proven when she disengaged. She stood on all fours in front of the giant, glowing. The Quincy laughed, raising his sword over his head and holding his shield in front of himself. Based on that stance, he was trying to anticipate her next move. Kisuke thought he was right. She was going to launch a frontal assault.
The glow surrounding Yoruichi grew brighter and brighter. She was almost blinding as the smell of ozone permeated the entire area. There was a flash when she pushed off the ground.
And she flew faster than the eye could see. She was a bolt of lightning burning through the air. She slammed into the divine will's shield and it exploded. Massive shards embedded themselves in the Quincy's face and chest. In the exact same moment, Yoruichi burst through the giant's neck, severing his head. His body and head plummeted to the ground, shaking the earth and crushing hundreds of buildings.
In truly miraculous fashion, the sky returned to its normal blue at the same time, the planet-crushing meteor blowing apart just like the divine will's shield.
A part of Kisuke wished he was the naive sort. If only he could take these two beautiful happenings and believe that crisis had been thoroughly and definitively averted. Unfortunately, that simply wasn't who he was.
The destruction of the meteor was certainly a blessing, but the man calling himself an avatar of divine will would not stop just because his head was lopped off. The fight wasn't over, despite Yoruichi's incredible display.
When Yoruichi returned to his side and curled up next to him, exhausted, Kisuke gave her a pat on the head. She deserved a rest. She couldn't take down this particular enemy, even with her incredible ability, but that was fine.
The true end to this battle was in Kisuke's hands now. Kisuke's and Captain Hitsugaya's.
A blinding blue-white pillar shot into the air. It stretched from one end of Kisuke's vision to the other, nearly the length of the horizon as he could see it. He'd been waiting for this. Dreading it, really.
Vollständig.
The glittering tower of Reishi dimmed and vanished, revealing something that boggled Kisuke's mind. The divine will's height had nearly doubled. Forget the Soul King's palace, he likely stood head and shoulders above even the tallest structures built by man. Any semblance of humanity was gone from his form. His skin was a mesmerizing fusion of stone and metal. His features were those of armor, rather than flesh and bone. A pair of wings, constructed of clouds, unfurled and cast their shadows on all of the Seireitei. His halo, that circular rainbow, was much more vibrant now. It practically shone, not with the blue-white light of the Quincy, but with the pure white light of the sun.
A divine being. There was simply no other way to describe it. Experiencing such an overwhelming existence made Kisuke thankful for his brutal realism. If he couldn't cling to his previous rationale-that Hitsugaya's power could negate the benefits of the Quincy's ability-he'd probably lose his mind seeing this.
Kisuke couldn't tell if that monstrous thing, that colossus turned behemoth, had pupils or even eyes in the traditional sense, but he was certain that its gaze fell squarely on him.
Kisuke swallowed as the Quincy spoke.
"I am the Shield that will protect the new world in its infancy. My first act as Protector will be to crush the Shinigami and all that they have built beneath my mighty boot." The sound was so deep and intense that Kisuke wasn't entirely sure he was actually hearing it. The vibrations shook air and earth alike, vibrating in Kisuke's chest and mind. It was like interpreting the breaths of an entire world.
The word "daunting" came to mind.
Fortunately, Captain Hitsugaya's Reiatsu was finally stabilized. And with no loss in output. Kisuke sighed. He wasn't sure he was going to make it, but somehow, he'd managed to build on Mayuri's design.
But then Hitsugaya's Spiritual Pressure began to explode. It tore past the young man's limits, easily surpassing the potential he'd been unleashing just a short while ago. Kisuke gasped as large, clear crystals of ice started forming on Benihime's hands, encasing them in an instant. He dismissed his Bankai, its job done, and the frozen air that had been cupped in its hands became a thick mist.
And from that mist emerged the Captain of the 10th Division.
Hitsugaya Tōshirō was reborn.
+ Shift +
Tōshirō breathed. Smooth, even breaths. White mist leaked from the corners of his mouth. He blinked. Everything looked . . . different. Stretched out, like he was farther away from everything.
He looked down, finding his own body elongated. His clothes no longer fit him properly. That was embarrassing, but the least of his concerns. His legs were longer, his hands bigger.
No, things weren't stretched or farther away. He was just taller. Why?
He turned, his vision swimming for a moment. Nothing felt wrong, but his mind was having trouble catching up to his new perspective. When the spell of vertigo passed, he locked eyes with Urahara Kisuke.
"What did you do to me?"
"Saved your life, I should think. You were in pretty bad shape, so I fixed you up.."
"You call this fixed?"
"I'd rather use the word 'improved,' but that's beside the point. For now, we have more pressing matters to attend to." Kisuke pointed. Tōshirō followed his finger and blinked again. The Quincy had undergone some pretty drastic changes himself. "You shouldn't have to worry about any time limits or rampaging Reiatsu, so would you mind taking care of that?"
"You know what? Fine. I'm feeling pretty good, all things considered. But when I'm finished, you're going to change me back. Got it?"
"You'll have to talk to Captain Kurotsuchi about that, I'm afraid."
"Whatever." Tōshirō took a few steps, getting a feel for his taller stature. When he felt comfortable, he called on Daiguren Hyōrinmaru. A ring of mist burst around him, but not much else changed.
No ice encroached on his arms and legs. Instead, he noticed small, armor-like formations on his shoulders. There were no petals, either.
There hadn't been much of a difference between his Shikai and Bankai before, but now they felt virtually the same. In fact, there was only one significant difference that he could tell.
He felt much more powerful now.
Blade held casually to his side, Tōshirō inspected the god-like form of his opponent. Beside his size, there wasn't much worth noting. Those wings were rather impressive, but size wasn't everything.
As for his own wings . . . Tōshirō could feel them there, hanging at his back, but they hadn't materialized. When he wanted to take to the skies, though, elegant icy structures sprouted, giving him lift. He soared across the flattened battlefield at incredible speeds.
It was effortless. And this time, there was no timer weighing him down. Confidence brimming, he brought himself even with the giant's eyes.
"Hmm, you have grown. A miracle of your own. Interesting," the Quincy said.
"Call it whatever you like." Tōshirō said, rolling his shoulders. His sense of self was just about aligned with this more mature body.
"Your power . . . it has also grown. Another miracle. It is a shame that I must destroy you, for I am the new world's Protector. My Miracle will snuff out whatever hope yours represents."
"Whatever you say."
The Quincy's unmoving face shook. It might have been his imagination, but Tōshirō got the impression he was angry. His impossibly large wings shifted, the clouds morphing. A sudden gale pushed Tōshirō back until he was a good distance from the giant.
The so-called Protector wasted no time. He swung the mountain sized sword at his side, moving faster than anything that size had any right to. Tōshirō only had a few moments to react.
Plenty of time.
He took the hilt of his sword in both hands and set his feet. He raised the blade over his head, just as he was taught. Breath in, then out. In then out. In . . .
The giant's blade approached, and Tōshirō swung. It was the most basic form he learned. The simplest sword swipe.
The air itself froze solid. There were no icy projectiles or waves of ice. Everything simply froze, encased in a seemingly unending block of ice.
The ice age lasted only a moment, the ice melting as suddenly as it appeared. The hulking sword shattered.
And breathe out. Tōshirō relaxed his grip, letting the butt of his sword rest on his shoulder. That was the sort of thing he'd been hoping for when he learned those basic forms. He smirked, puffing out his chest just a little bit. He'd just launched the most powerful attack he'd ever mustered, and it had been so, so easy. Too easy, perhaps, but that was something he could worry about later. Right now, he was going to use this absurd power to defeat this colossal freak.
"Impressive, Shinigami," the Protector regarded the bits of sword jutting out of the ground like towers, his voice shaking ever so slightly. Oh yeah, he was angry. "Impressive, but ultimately fruitless. My miraculous power will not yield. Behold, as my holy blade is born anew!" He held out the empty hilt, and Tōshirō waited.
But nothing happened.
The giant stiffened. He took a step back-a move that might have been imperceptible if not for his gargantuan size-and stared at his still broken weapon.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Tōshirō said, "but your miracle, or whatever, isn't going to work so well anymore." He held his sword out to the side and willed his wings to materialize. "My Zanpakuto, Daiguren Hyōrinmaru, has dominion over ice. At my current level, it can freeze things so thoroughly that all of its functions cease."
"That is preposterous! You cannot freeze a miracle!"
"Oh? Why don't we put it to the test, then?" Tōshirō raised his sword, inviting the Quincy to prove him wrong.
+ Shift +
Yoruichi's eyes shot open. Kisuke was leaning over her, smiling like an idiot. She suppressed the urge to crack his skull and stood.
Her memory always got a bit fuzzy when she used her enhanced Shunkō and this time was no different. She looked to Kisuke, who was still making it hard not to pile drive him into the ground, but he offered no explanation. All he did was point.
Yoruichi followed the gesture and stiffened. That giant Quincy was bigger than ever, so Shunkō hadn't been enough . . . and was that Hitsugaya going toe to toe with him? She looked back down at Kisuke and finally saw the purpose in his eyes. He'd woken her up for a very specific reason.
She had one more job to do, apparently.
+ Shift +
The colossal Protector wailed, pulling his arm close to his body. The stone-like surface had turned an ugly shade of purple. Three of his fingers had fallen off as well. Despite how he looked, he was still flesh and bone. His appearance, his bravado . . . it was all posturing.
All he had was size.
Tōshirō grimaced, watching the Quincy writhe. He'd been ready to fight a monster, even one so seemingly close to godhood. This human pain, this relatable suffering, was more than he'd bargained for. He pitied the poor giant.
"You . . . dare look down on me?!" The Quincy's face was finally moving. The muscles were sluggish, but they were capable of showing emotion after all. Currently, he looked like a statue depicting some vengeful ogre. "To think that having dominion over something as mundane as ice would make you superior is a grave sin indeed!"
The Quincy clenched his jaw and forced his frostbitten arm into motion. It swung forward in concert with his other arm. His palms slapped together with a thundering boom. A bright, blue-white energy began to coalesce around his wrists. He pulled his dead limb back, sliding the mostly fingerless nub along his good arm.
As he did, the light expanded, shooting up and down as he pulled, like he was raising the sails on a ship. When his purpled hand came close to his chin, the image became complete in Tōshirō's mind.
It was a bow. The scale was difficult to comprehend, but there was no mistaking it now that he could see it in full.
"This is the proudest weapon of the Quincy. If I am to be the new world's Shield, then this bow shall become its Sword. The Reishi used to produce this weapon was cultivated in my soul. It is free of the constraints of the natural world. It cannot be stopped! It cannot be frozen! It is pure!"
The light stretching between his hands brightened as an arrow materialized. If he fired that thing . . . Tōshirō could barely imagine the level of destruction it would leave in its wake.
And yet, he sighed.
"Reishi can't be frozen, huh? I know a few people who might disagree. Myself included." Tōshirō didn't set his feet or shoulders. He didn't distribute his weight or breathe in a particular rhythm. He didn't even swing his sword, really. All he did, all he had to do, was point the tip at the Quincy.
Tōshirō had heard that Kuchiki Rukia had achieved Bankai. It could lower the temperature of an area to absolute zero, or somewhere close, apparently. Tōshirō's own power over ice didn't have such dramatic control over temperature. But, then again, it didn't need it.
To say that the Quincy froze when Hyōrinmaru was pointed at him would technically be incorrect. "Freezing" implied a change of physical states, traversing the boundaries between gas, liquid, and solid. There was no transition, here.
The Quincy became ice. Every atom that made up his being was stopped. His flesh, his organs, the shield on his arm, even the clouds that made up his wings, and the rainbow over his head. And yes, the Reishi stretching between his hands.
Lightning flashed in the corner of Tōshirō's vision, and in an instant, a bolt of electricity slammed into the monumental ice sculpture.
The Protector . . . the avatar of divine will . . . The Quincy, Gerard Valkyrie, burst.
What remained of him rained down on the Seireitei like snow.
Tension fled Tōshirō's body as a gentle coolness settled on the ground below. He wasn't sure he'd ever expended so much energy. Not in his entire lifetime. This form, this strange adult body, apparently let him use his full potential. But he wasn't sure he could fathom something like that.
If he kept training like normal, kept practicing the sword and refining his control over his Zanpakuto, he could achieve this level of power? The gap between right now and his usual self was so vast it made him dizzy. The world was spinning. The ground was getting closer.
He didn't realize he'd been falling until Shihōin snatched him out of the air and slung him across her shoulder. As he hung there, unable to move or speak or keep his eyes open, he pondered the fairness of his transformation.
He'd been given great power, but . . . damn it, he wanted to grab hold of it himself. He wanted to build himself into the man he now knew he could be.
So, he made a decision, just as he drifted off to sleep. He'd have Urahara or Kurotsuchi, or whoever, change him back.
Then he'd show them what Hitsugaya Tōshirō was really capable of.
+ Shift +
Yoruichi laid Captain Hitsugaya down gently before dashing off again to retrieve the Lieutenants, giving Kisuke ample time to process what he'd just witnessed.
The young Captain's Spiritual Pressure had reached a mind boggling upper limit. His potential appeared to be almost on par with Kurosaki Ichigo's. The only thing was the energy drain.
Activating his Bankai had allowed him to achieve victory, but all that power had flowed out of him like a swollen river. It was inefficient, frankly. The crazy thing was, Kisuke was sure that the level of wasted energy was his fault. His modification was imperfect, causing the state of exhaustion that left Hitsugaya napping on the ground next to him.
The modifications to his soul had done their job perfectly, allowing him to bring out his full potential, but the vessel designed to house that power had failed.
For the first time, Kisuke had to compliment Mayuri's design. It had, in this one instance, reached a level that surpassed Kisuke's own. He didn't want to admit it, but he was impressed. Thoroughly so.
Of course, he'd never say that out loud.
+ Break +
Gregor stepped out into the midday sun, chest tight. The dull rumble of the crowd below was thunderous to his ears. When he stepped up onto the podium and looked out over the gathered denizens of the Soul Society's Central Branch, his heart sank.
As he would have expected, the Enders, cheering and whistling, and the Balancers, quiet save for a few jeers, drew clear lines. Nobody mingled. Nobody even dared look at a member of another faction. It was a powder keg, and Gregor himself was the fuse. He would have prayed for guidance, but he wasn't feeling particularly spiritual as of late.
He scanned the crowd. Yes, there was Keaton, head of frizzy gray standing out as usual. Shuichi's wife was there too. And there was Deckland with his boy, the same age as Gregor's own son. There were so many others. So many who looked to him for guidance in these troubled times. So many looking up at him, eyes brimming with hope.
He resisted the urge to retch. Hostility from the Balancers was to be expected, but he wasn't sure he could withstand the same from his own people. Would any of them understand? No . . . that was hoping for far too much.
Gregor cleared his throat and prepared to betray the Enders. At least Juha wasn't here to see this.
"It has been some time since an Ender has been chosen to succeed the title of Soul King," he said, mouth dry. "Several millennia, at least. There isn't a soul present here today who was around to see the last. This is . . . a momentous occasion for our people."
Gregor gripped the podium to keep himself from shaking. He'd memorized the script, practiced it for hours each day, and yet . . .
"Many of you have come expecting me to deliver the Enders a definitive victory. Finally, after all this time, we have a chance to shape the world our way. I would like to remind you that our goal is, and has always been, peace and equality."
Warm saliva flooded Gregor's mouth, forcing him to pause. He turned his attention to the Balancers. He wasn't familiar with them, unfortunately. As much as he encouraged his fellow Enders to be firm, yet accepting, he rarely went out of his way to get to know anyone from the opposing faction. Chō was there, surrounded by his usual entourage. The one man who was willing to meet Gregor on equal footing, to speak of a world that was kind to both peoples.
None of the Balancer nobles were present, of course. After Gregor became the Soul King, they would likely make trouble for the Enders in retaliation. Hopefully, Chō would be able to steer his people in the right direction.
Gregor swallowed, but the spit seemed to vanish before it reached his throat. "I bear the will of my people. Their expectations." He couldn't live up to them. "We are raised under the thumb of leadership that does not care for us. We grow, seeking change. Today, I stand before you, all of you, to say that we are not wrong . . . however . . ."
He could tell them all. Everything that he'd seen. The truths that they'd all somehow forgotten in the Soul Society's long, long history. The visions, the revelations, would change everything. They would upend both faction's beliefs in one way or another. He held the power to pull the rug out from under the current regime. Everything would come crashing down.
And there would be war.
He didn't need visions of the distant past to know it was true. The tensions that had been building since the Enders and Balancers came into being would explode if they knew the truth. It wouldn't just be the delinquent Quincies and those Balancer thugs calling themselves reapers, the whole of the Rukon District would be washed away in a tidal wave of violence and blood. There would be no peace, then.
"When I take the throne," Gregor said, ears smarting from the sound of his own voice, "I will not erase the Hollows, nor will I do away with the cycle of rebirth. The status quo must be maintained. If there is to be peace, we must learn to work together in this world! That is the only way to ensure a bright future for us all!" The words rang hollow over a silent crowd.
Their eyes stuck him like hundreds of needles. He couldn't take it. He just wasn't strong enough. Gregor turned from the podium without another word, retreating into the false shelter of the Head Monk's palace. Enraged screams and cries of betrayal chased him like a pack of rabid hounds. He could hear them, echoing through the halls until the structure returned to its position on high.
Gregor spent the subsequent days in a stupor. He barely ate, barely moved. What was the point? Everyone he ever knew and respected surely thought him a traitor. He was nothing.
"Oh dear! That isn't how I imagine a king should look!" Ichibē entered Gregor's chambers, laughing as if he'd just heard the greatest joke. His eyes sparkled. He looked so completely jolly that it almost masked his innate wrongness.
Gregor ignored him. This . . . thing was hiding so much from the world. So many secrets that would demolish modern understanding of reality. He held his tongue, allowing pointless divisions amongst the people because it furthered his purpose.
And he'd made Gregor a part of his machinations.
"Now, now," The monk said, "Pouting won't change the past. Nor will it change the future, for that matter. We do what must be done."
What must be done? Hearing those words coming out of Ichibē's mouth set Gregor's brain on fire. "How can something so ancient be so daft? Can you not see that there were better ways to ensure the safety of the Lynchpin?!" He stood, wobbly, but undaunted. He could not let such self-righteousness pass unchallenged. "You call dividing the people, inciting conflict that has lasted millennia, something that must be done?"
"Of course."
The frankness of it left Gregor deflated. He sank back onto his seat and lowered his eyes. What was the point of arguing with this monster? If he could be reasoned with, surely someone would have talked some sense into him by now.
"Don't get too comfortable. The time is almost upon us. We should be making our way to the ritual chamber." So he'd come to escort him to his doom, had he?
Fine. Gregor stood and followed. He dragged his feet, drawing out every step. Part of him hoped that, by stalling, he could cause the Lynchpin to expire and unravel, just to spite the Head Priest.
He didn't really want that, though.
"They consider me a traitor, don't they?" Gregor said softly.
"Most do, yes. Although I have heard talk of some who claim you are being manipulated. One group is even claiming that your speech the other day was the performance of some imposter, and that the real you has been imprisoned. It's quite silly!"
Gregor's feet grew heavier. His shoulders, too.
"Ah, but I did hear a bit of news you might enjoy! Your son, he has apparently found himself a number of new friends. I've been told this is something to be celebrated, yes?"
Juha . . . Gregor held out hope that he was wrong, but those supposed friends were likely Quincies. They preyed on passionate young people like Juha, radicalizing them, encouraging them to act violently.
If they'd gotten their hooks into his son, Gregor would . . . he would . . .
His son.
"He hates me, doesn't he?"
"Hmm, I don't think so. With all their talk of 'rescuing' you, I'd say he and his friends think rather highly of you."
"Rescue? No, Juha wouldn't be so rash." Wouldn't he? Gregor's son usually had his heart in the right place, but he could be hotheaded. No, he couldn't think like that. "Keaton should be able to keep him out of trouble."
"I certainly hope so." The artificial mirth was gone from Ichibē's voice. The implication was clear.
"Don't you dare hurt my boy." Gregor hissed. He was weakened from lack of nourishment, but he was still confident in his strength. If it came down to it, he could wrap his hands around that patchwork monster's neck and-
Ichibē stopped, turning. His body didn't rotate far enough, so his head twisted like an owl's. His mouth was grinning, showing off his large teeth. His eyebrows were knit, looking almost apologetic. His eyes were burning coals. They held a primal heat that made Gregor sweat.
"Any threat to the Lynchpin must be stamped out. The fate of the world is at stake, you see."
Gregor held the old monk's intense gaze despite his turning stomach. But he couldn't say anything.
Part of it was fear. Gregor was strong, with a particularly powerful Spiritual Pressure compared to his contemporaries. But this man-shaped thing in front of him was ancient. The depths of his power were obscured by a nature and disposition that warped Gregor's senses. He knew that Ichibē wouldn't kill him–he needed his new Lynchpin, after all–but he could only imagine what the priest was capable of doing.
The other part-the shameful, treacherous part-knew that Ichibē was right. The Lynchpin, the Soul King, was everything. Without it, the world would inevitably end. At its inception, the Amalgamated Souls might have known when it would have ended, but now . . . there was no telling how long the world would persist without its influence. It could go on for thousands of years yet.
Or it could stop abruptly.
Gregor shuddered at the thought as he continued to follow Ichibē to the ritual chamber. His dream had been peace. A world where his family and the families of those around him could live in harmony. His betrayal would surely still incite conflict despite Ichibē's best attempts, but peace would still be possible.
The ritual chamber was cold. Featureless. A crude metaphor for what would become of him. At Ichibē's invitation, Gregor stepped onto the platform where his body would be entombed. And his soul . . .
The fear of vanishing into the endless power of the universe was swept away by a single thought. One beautiful, hopelessly naive thought. Juha, his son, would continue living.
The years ahead of him would be filled with opportunity. The earnest excitement of youth would give way to the pride and self-assurance of adulthood. And although Gregor would not be able to hand his son the peaceful world he so often dreamt of, he could at least set the stage for Juha to grasp that possibility himself.
Gregor took a breath, long and deep, and felt a tugging on his soul. It was gentle, at first. Just an impression of a feeling, really. But there was a definite weight behind it. A weight that nobody could resist.
He set his jaw and shot the Head Priest one final glare. "I hate you," he said. "I hate all that you have built. I hate what it has done to my people and yours. I hate that, in my final moments, I can only air my grievances."
"All fair. I apologize for your distress. Thank you for enduring this suffering for all of our sakes."
Gregor stared deep into the lifeless pits that were Ichibē's eyes, searching for some sign of genuine care.
But he found nothing.
Despair tied knots in his chest as infinity swept through him.
+ Shift +
Yhwach sank to his knees. Despair bloomed in his chest, but he could not scream. He simply did not have the will to do so.
He'd been wrong, about so many things, all this time.
The full weight of the Lynchpin sat firmly on his shoulders now. It all made sense. He finally understood Ukitake's perspective, not just through their chilling bond, but in his own mind.
The Lynchpin was necessary. The damned cycle was necessary. These things that the Quincy's hated–that Yhwach, most of all, hated–were essential to realizing Gregor's dream. A peaceful world could not be achieved without them because without them the world would be no more.
Yhwach looked to Ukitake Jūshirō, expecting some condescending plea for understanding. Hoping for one. But the Shinigami was slumped over, silent. The pull of the Soul King's arms was finally too much, it seemed. He wasn't yet dead, but their battle was over.
Yhwach had won. But he couldn't celebrate.
Not when he had so many bodies underfoot. Not when the river of blood spilled for a misguided cause ran so deep.
The rage that had fueled his ambitions for over a millennia had all come to nothing.
And still it did not die.
Yhwach clenched his jaw until his mouth started to fill with blood. No, his burning fury had not diminished. It had only grown more intense!
Gregor, Yhwach's own father, had been caught up in the cycle of misery created by this world. He allowed it to continue, hoping that things would get better. But they never did.
And they never would.
Yhwach could see it, plain as day. This world may not have been constructed with the Balancers in mind, but it had been twisted to fit their designs. They were the architects of his father's despair, and by extension, his own. There was no room for any Ender in the Balancer's world.
The world had to die. They needed a blank slate. Only then could Yhwach create a truly peaceful world.
The pulling from Ukitake all but ceased, giving Yhwach almost total control over the flow of power. He stomped up onto the dais where his father's body once hovered, taking hold of the power of the Soul King's arms. He could not pull all of it into himself just yet. If he did so, the universe would sweep him away.
No, he needed to take his time, use the power to mold a framework for his new, perfect world. He felt the darkness seething in his veins. He felt its influence on the air around him. He felt its vastness melding with his soul.
The time was almost at hand, but unlike his predecessors, he would not be swept away. He would not be a pawn.
He would seize infinity and make it his!
+ Shift +
Ukitake Jūshirō could not move. He could not speak. He could barely breathe. He could see, though.
So he watched as the Quincy king took all of that world-shaping power into himself.
And he waited for an opportunity.
He prayed that his frail being would last until one appeared.