ZANGETSU
The air was thick in the city. A shimmering heat wave blanketed the area in a stifling blaze, not yet cooled since the fight's conclusion. The Hollow stood at the edge of a building, not bothered by the sheer drop mere inches from his toes, and only mildly annoyed by the glare of the over-bright sun glinting off the windows.
He was alone.
Time was warped in the soulscape compared to the outside world. That combined with the adrenaline flooding their system made it a fool's errand to estimate the duration of their battle.
An hour?
A second?
It didn't really matter.
They were alive.
They were alive, and Yhwach was not.
That's what was important.
With another scowl, the Hollow craned his neck to inspect his shoulder, peeling away the hem of his clothes for a better look. Thin, rough, lines cross-crossed the area like cracks in porcelain. He could feel, without having to look, that they stretched down along his left side and at least halfway across his chest. The movement pulled at the wounds uncomfortably and the Hollow brushed off the stab of sharp pain.
He'd survive.
Still, being broken several times in rapid succession was far from pleasant.
In his opinion, his Wielder should learn to take care of his things better. Careless idiot.
The Hollow heaved a sigh. No use getting upset. There were more important things on his mind. On everyone's mind.
Like how close they had all come to absolute annihilation.
His wielder's mind, as well as his own, was scattered. Exhausted. Too much happened all at once, and the stories trickling in from other shinigami only left the King's thoughts reeling time and time again.
It hadn't been a good fight.
Sure, they were victorious, but there was no joy in their triumph. No sense of accomplishment, of growth. Yhwach had shown them, over and over again, that their own strength wasn't enough— would never be enough. It didn't matter how many times their sword was split and reforged, how much determination and reiatsu pumped through their veins.
It was futile.
His wielder's voice had echoed like thunder across the sky, screaming his terror:
It's too much.
He's too strong.
I… I can't win…
Hopelessness. Panic. Despair.
They had been losing up until the very last second, plain and simple. And while many of the King's fights had been won with a last-minute turnaround, this was no sudden mastery of skill, nor quick strategizing to outsmart their opponent.
Winning had been luck. Pure, stupid, uncontrollable chance.
A fleeting moment that they had barely grasped at the last possible second.
It left a bitter taste in the Hollow's mouth.
It could have been worse, some foolish glass-half-full part of the Hollow's mind offered, At least he accepted you. He gave a genuine attempt to follow that thought, chasing the feeling of truly fighting alongside his wielder; a horn atop his head, red-black markings streaking his skin.
Hollow, but without a mask.
Hollow, but no longer hiding.
No longer afraid.
It was sad, the Hollow thought, that they would never again achieve that form. The death of Yhwach marked the beginning of peace, and that glorious new power would be packed away and never touched.
But then he once again glanced at the heavy clouds of fear and doubt still lingering at the horizon.
The Hollow suppressed a shudder. No, he was glad it was over.
For once, he was sick of fighting.
A rumbling off to the right caught the Hollow's attention and he impassively watched the plume of dust rise from the just-collapsed building falling to the ground at the hollow's back, not having gotten the memo that gravity was a little screwed up.
It was fine. Just aftershocks from the fight rippling through. They would rebuild.
Still, the damage to their soul was evident, the Hollow didn't even want to guess how many skyscrapers had been destroyed while Yhwach was meddling with their soul; pulling at their power like it was his own.
He winced at the memory of the Quincy reiatsu burning through him— searing, blinding pain that disrupted his synchronicity with his King. Watching blue tendrils grab the Other, pulling them apart.
The utter terror in the Other's face as he clung to the fading world around them.
The unspoken words spilling a torrent of emotion into those usually stoic blue eyes: Don't let me go. Please… please!
It would have been so easy for the Hollow to have just sat by and let the Other get dragged away. So easy to take advantage of the weakness and become the sole source of power like he always dreamed of.
Like he always should have been.
Just a Hollow and his King.
After he had been reforged by the Swordsmith, the Hollow had scowled at his hands, still white, and flicked his eyes, still silver-black, across the landscape, still impossibly sideways.
He had hoped, in some back part of his mind, that being reforged would have changed him somehow, made him into whatever form he was supposed to have taken on the first time he awoke two whole lifetimes ago, even though he had long since forgotten the glimpse he had gotten. Or if it would have fixed the broken world he resided in.
But no, everything was the same.
Or so he thought.
Because there, among the destruction of their soul being torn asunder, with the Other reaching out, searching for salvation, the Hollow's dead heart had stirred. Empathy, an entirely new emotion, sprung forth. He couldn't just sit by and ignore the Other, not after what they had been through together. Not after all they had sacrificed. Not after the Hollow knew what that sting of betrayal felt like from that position better than anyone.
Zangetsu was a concept that they represented together. The King had all but said so when he had confronted the Other about his deception.
You're both my power.
You're both Zangetsu.
And I accept you just the way you are.
Without a second thought, the Hollow had grabbed the Other's hand and hauled him back to safety.
It could have been a disaster. He had almost been too late. Almost burned himself away ripping through the Quincy reiatsu. Almost left their wielder completely and utterly defenseless at the mercy of a lesser god. And that more than anything made his blood run cold.
But he couldn't go forward alone.
Hesitantly, the Hollow mentally reached inside himself, checking on the little ember of blue nestled safely away, too weak to exist on his own at the moment.
Time would heal him, the Hollow thought, looking again at the broken city and the long road of recovery ahead of them. Time would heal them all.
A change in the wind broke the Hollow's thoughts, The refreshingly cool whisper of familiar reiatsu against his neck heralding a visitor.
The King had entered his kingdom.
The Hollow stood still and let his King come to him.
There was silence when they met, looking at each other without malice, without fear. Unarmed.
Their dynamic had changed in such a drastic way so quickly. Their future uncertain, a chance to begin again. The proposition was thrilling and daunting all at once, sending the Hollow's new heart fluttering. A litany of what if's streaking across his thoughts.
The Hollow felt the beginnings of a snide comment forming on his tongue, a habit he quickly reeled back in check before he could open his mouth. He didn't want to mess this up.
"Hey." The King broke the silence, a calm smile on his face. "I think we have quite a bit to talk about, Zangetsu."
Zangetsu flashed a quick smile in return, taking a few steps closer. "Yeah… I guess we do, Ichigo."
-END-