AN ENDING.
It was the longest they had been in direct contact with their wielder.
The Hollow and the Other combined their strength, merging into a form that had never existed before. It was all together an entirely new sensation, yet curiously familiar. Some part of it harkened back to the time before they both Awoke, back when all that existed was their chaotic energy swirling together.
Back before the Other turned on his Master.
Back before the Hole tore their power apart.
Back when Zangetsu was still a single entity.
That's what that feeling was— who that feeling was: Zangetsu.
There had been a few words traded between the combattants at the beginning; the Hollow and the Other layed out the expectations while the King tried to weasel out of a fight.
That all ended fairly quickly.
Conversation was carried out through the language of violence. Each swipe and stab a question, each parry and dodge an answer.
"You're disappointed" their wielder pondered with a forward jab. Too slow. Too sloppy.
"I'm disappointed in your lack of resolve." Zangetsu responded, flicking their wielder's sword off to the side with ease and slicing into the muscle of his shoulder. "I'm disappointed in myself for holding you back. You're strong. I am sorry that I made you doubt that. Remember: Look forward, go forward."
"Do you hate me?" he asked with a faltering sidestep that didn't quite make it.
"If I do, it's only because you hated yourself first." Zangetsu watched red run down their wielder's pained face, "Why else would I look like you? Why else would you push me away? You're scared of your own power— your own instincts— Yourself. I am sorry I frightened you so. Don't be afraid of me, I've always been on your side."
Their wielder wiped blood out of his eye, ducking under a swipe and aiming a lunge towards their midsection. "Tell me what I'm doing wrong here. Tell me how to understand you."
Zangetsu dropped, plummeting through the water backwards to evade. Their wielder's eyes widened, not expecting the spirit to take advantage of the vertical space so effectively. "No. You're not ready."
Though startled, Their wielder didn't let up. He followed, letting the momentum of his attack carry him forward after his zanpakuto. He struck hard and fast."Then I will do better."
"Good. That is all I ask of you." Spark flew as Zangetsu raised their blade to block the attack.
They fought for hours, days, weeks...
Until time lost its meaning altogether.
Their wielder's technical skills improved gradually, pushing the fight faster and more precise. His movements grew fluid and confident, all wasted movements gone as he honed his reflexes and instinct.
Breaks came in the seconds between steps, the brief moments their weapons weren't locked together.
Although they had no way of knowing exactly how long they had been fighting, some part of their mind knew that their time limit was fast approaching.
'King always did like to draw things out to the last possible second.' The Hollow offered into their shared mind.
The Other saw the flashes of their wielder's struggle for his mask. 'Indeed.'
They knew their wielder would figure it out eventually. It was only a matter of when.
It all ended in a split second. There was no lead-up, no fanfare, no grand declarations of "it's now or never!" Zangetsu rushed forward, using the ambient reishi as a springboard. They brought their sword up to attack, just like they had hundreds of times before.
Their wielder's eyes narrowed, flashing with clouded emotion.
The black sword drifted out of his relaxed hand.
Zangetu's own eyes widened, a million feelings flooding their heart.
No! Not yet!
Bitter loneliness, the burning ache of loss.
Stop it! I don't want to lose him!
The thoughts were shared by both of them.
A heartbeat, half a breath, the blink of an eye. They could change their course, drop their trajectory and keep the fight going, refuse to give the fight its inevitable end.
We can't... he needs us.
Their sword speared cleanly through their wielder's heart.
Their breath was loud in the palpable silence.
"...It doesn't hurt." Their wielder spoke, voice low and careful. The first actual words traded between them for months.
"Of course it doesn't," Zangetsu responded, "The sword is you. As long as you accept it" —as long as you accept yourself— "no such harm will befall you."
No one moved. Zangetsu couldn't even bear to lift their head and look their wielder in the eye.
"Why are you crying?" Their wielder asked, and Zangetsu's heart broke.
Zangetsu grit their teeth together, knowing there was no way to fully convey their feelings to their wielder.
They drew in a shuddering breath, composing themselves against the icy talons of grief closing around their throat. "When this fight began, I told you that the things that you wish to protect are not the same things I wish to protect. Do you remember?"
"...yes."
"What I wanted to protect was you, Ichigo." Their wielder's name rolled from their lips like a prayer, a sweet word filled with reverence. The only thing Zangetsu ever cared about. The person he would do anything for.
Even betraying their nature.
Even becoming a monster.
Even tearing themselves apart.
Anything.
Their wielder asked, "what do you mean?" but he must have already known. His voice threatened to catch, but stayed steady. The finality of the moment settling on his shoulders.
"You will understand soon." They spoke again, "If you use this technique, you—"
-0-
Their wielder was gone.
Returned to the surface of his consciousness. Soon to be beginning his own fight against the wannabe-god. Soon to be lighting his own soul on fire in a suicide attack. Ripping himself to pieces for the betterment of the world. Supposedly.
Zangetsu still didn't care about that. Their world would be ending soon.
The heavy silence stretched on, full of thoughts and feelings that belonged to both sides of the spirit, but which neither of them wanted to claim as their own.
They longed for comfort, but were clueless as to how to ask for it and even less knowledgeable at offering it up. Staying merged was the best they could do, allowing their emotions to flow freely between them. At least their feelings and anxieties could be validated.
At least they weren't alone.
That was something.
"So that's it." They didn't need to speak aloud to converse, but the Hollow did so anyway.
The Other radiated reluctant acceptance, tinted with helplessness.
"Well," the Hollow said with an attempt at a lighter tone. It fell flat. "I guess you're finally getting what you always wanted."
Their throat tightened with regret. "No." The Other responded. "I don't want this at all."
The Hollow believed him.
They had spent three months together, learning each other's mind and motives.
He could feel how proud the Other was of their wielder's strength and tenacity.
Proud to be part of his power.
Proud to be his sword, even if it was under the guise of deceit.
It wasn't fair.
They had come to somewhat of an understanding, actually finding a way to work together to help their wielder for the first— and final— time.
"Are you ready?" The Other asked.
No.
"Yeah." The Hollow responded.
Of course I'm not.
The fight outside was ramping up—
I don't think I'll ever be.
Drawing to an end—
But it's not up to me, now is it?
Their wielder was calling on them, drawing up his power like never before, combining their very souls together in a blinding inferno of energy.
"Farewell... Ichigo."