I made some minor updates to chapters 5-7. Nothing major, but go check them out if you want to.
CRYPTOMNESIA
It was night when Zangetsu awoke.
His blurred and subdued sense could register that much at least.
Night.
A rainy night.
Water pelted the sidewalk and collected in sombre puddles.
How he hated the rain.
It was night and his wielder was in battle.
His... wielder...?
Yes, that was right.
His—
The Hollow's eyes flew open, shock and disbelief jarring him awake. "King!?" He couldn't stop from calling out the name.
Memories came crashing down, a tidal wave of sounds and images:
The Other acknowledging him as an equal—
His wielder accepting their blade—
Mugetsu—
The indescribable bliss of finally, finally, being whole—
His existence shattering like glass not a moment later—
A million billion crystalline fragments: infinitely small and scattered. No indication of where 'he' ended and 'nothing' began—
He shouldn't be awake.
He shouldn't even exist anymore.
And yet here he was.
He glanced around, taking stock of his surroundings. The world was still hazy with half-formed, shifting energy. Raw emotion surged around him: grief, despair, loneliness, all being burned away as the freezing waters receded and buildings knit themselves back together. His King's heart and determination solidified in the presence of the returning power.
His own form was equally in flux. The outline of his pale hands shifted, reiatsu sparking along the edges like crackling electricity, barely able to be contained. Still solid enough that he could tell that some of the changes— his long hair, his clawed hands, his mask— had disappeared.
He was also alone.
An individual again.
The Other wasn't around.
Not yet, anyway. He was still in torpor. Buried too deep for the coursing reiatsu to reach him for a while. He would be awake soon enough though.
The Hollow's attention turned outward again, trying to piece together the fragmented images of the King's memories.
Betrayal.
Friends and family, led astray by false visions and memories, turning against the King,
Power.
The glowing sword speared through the King's chest, reigniting the spark
Fullbring.
The Hollow knew the concept as instinctively as he knew everything else.
It was a hollow-based power. Of course he would have been pulled to wakefulness first.
Sudden anger, hot and piercing, poured through the spirit as he recognized what their enemy had done moments prior to his awakening: siphoning off his King's power— his own power— like a leech.
Disgusting.
Revolting.
The violation somehow felt even worse than when the Other stole his name. At least the Other was technically a part of him.
He was surprised, though he probably shouldn't have been, to feel the same sentiment reverberate throughout the re-forming world. Echoing from the King.
The sensation gave the Hollow pause, a sinking feeling opening up somewhere inside. How long had the King been alone? How much had he changed?
Their power was merely a fraction of what it was— their soul still unsteady and fragile; hastily patched together and not given any time to heal before being forced into a fight. Who knew how much they could handle?
It was enough concern that the Hollow chose to stay back, lending his strength only as it was asked and keeping his influence low.
He would observe.
Observe and only step in if absolutely necessary.
The enemy outside was talking, ranting about something that the Hollow didn't care enough to focus on. All of his attention was turned on the King, on the reactions and sensations reverberating through him. If the Hollow listened close enough, he could almost hear words.
I don't understand you.
Why are we fighting?
Why am I your enemy?
The world rumbled with each clash of their blades.
If I were in your shoes, would I feel the same?
The King was faring surprisingly well for not having held a blade in... however long it had been. His muscle memory was quickly returning; reflexes springing forth to block and counter attacks that his conscious thought couldn't process fast enough.
Rage bloomed in both the Hollow and his King as their enemy threw an attack their way— their own attack. Name and all.
The absolute wrongness left a palpable weight in the air.
It was despicable and the Hollow couldn't help the snarl on his face— had to physically hold himself back from jumping in and tearing the man limb-from-limb.
They started talking outside again and the Hollow was growing more and more antsy by the moment. His King should be better than this— shouldn't be wasting time trying to understand his opponent. He could feel the King's emotions shifting through the world: a strange mix of shock and acceptance all at once.
And then, the King spoke a single word that grabbed the Hollow's attention and wouldn't let it go: "Bankai."
The city rumbled, heaving with the massive surge of reiatsu. Something almost like concern flared in the back of the Hollow's mind, expecting the buildings to buck and crumble under the added strain. They held tight. Gathered strength, in fact, from the fire of reiatsu raging the streets. The King's willpower crystalized in that way it did when he needed to get stuff done.
The Hollow realized that the world was not on the verge of total collapse. The tremble that shook the earth wasn't the King pulling too hard on his soul, it was the King's own overflowing energy straining against the channels that had withered with lack of use. The small spark of reawakened power was quickly turning into a blazing inferno.
With that recognition, the Hollow allowed himself to sink into the wonderful, powerful feeling. The King was drawing on his power. Unconsciously, of course— it still stung that he didn't know the truth. But that wasn't an issue at the moment. No, the Hollow was basking in the infectious inferno of his wielder's determined spirit.
You'll have to share this power again once the Other wakes up. Some part of his thoughts pushed forward. He ignored it. Later… I'll deal with that later.
For now it was just the Hollow and his King.
The fight progressed well, trading sword blows instead of words. The enemy raised his blade, fired a fuschia energy beam from it, and the King stood his ground. His hand raised almost in slow motion, confidence guiding the action.
It was then that the Hollow felt it twisting through the world; that cold thread that he had worked so hard to pull free from where it had been hidden away.
The King's recognition that he couldn't save everyone he crossed blades with. Letting go of his stubborn refusal to stop fighting with his head. Tossing aside the proclivity for trying to win while doing the least amount of harm possible.
All that time fighting himself… all the struggles against his nature… all the excuses…
The King finally embraced it:
His killing instinct.
Pride swelled in the Hollow's chest and he said with a smirk, "Took you long enough."
The fight ended with a single, decisive strike. No hesitation.
Inside the city, the blazing reiatsu settled, falling back to the comfortable glow of banked embers.
The Hollow allowed himself to relax. There was so much still that needed to be done— so many words to be said— too many questions that begged for answers.
But that could wait for another time.
If this was the King he had now, after however long they had been separated, they were going to be just fine.