Well, here you go my fellow readers. This is the last chapter before our main cast goes to save Rukia. Are you guys excited? I sure as hell know that I am. I've waited for this moment for the past two years. Its so hard to believe that we're here. Well, I wont waste anymore of your time. Just don't forget to leave us a review. Id like to see if we can get to 600 before the soul solemnity arc. I know we can, but only if you guys leave us your reviews. It would really mean a lot to me if we could do this.
Regardless if we do or not however, I want to thank each and every single one of you that has read this story and told us how you felt. It truly does mean a lot, and We cant thank you enough for that. You guys rock!
Special thanks once again to GreatKingRat88
Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo and Shounen jump. Fairy tail is owned by Hiro Mashima and weekly shounen magazine. I own NOTHING. This is all just for fun.
Over two weeks had gone by, and training had proceeded just according to plan, each individual making noteworthy progress. It was intense, tiring practice on all fronts, but morale was high all around. It was almost to the chagrin of the teenagers that Masaki, Erza and Urahara all insisted there be proper resting pauses. There was no sense in overworking yourself, the three of them had agreed, especially since the more human parties could risk something like a cramp, a torn muscle or spraining.
During one such break, Urahara was sat in his makeshift lab, hat pulled down low as he analyzed data. Things were terribly busy, and he had precious little time to rest. With a bit of coffee thrown into the mix, that made for ideal working conditions for the likes of Urahara Kisuke. He had always been a natural workaholic, at least when he was interested and invested in his work, which was how he had once become chief researcher in the Gotei. Skimming through data for his personal research was the perfect way of getting work done, while keeping the steam up.
He was so immersed in the beauteous symphony of information, just begging to be sorted, analyzed and quantified, that he didn't even notice the reiatsu of Erza, slowly coming through the doorway.
"What is it?" He mumbled distractedly, noticing her at last. She had just recently showered, he noticed, but she was as fastidious as himself, and if she wasn't already on her way back to training, it meant she had something to say.
"I've been thinking," she said slowly.
"What a change of pace that must be," Urahara said offhandedly, feeling he might get away with the barb.
"I've been thinking," Erza repeated, "that you're going through quite a lot of trouble to help us."
"Uh huh?" Urahara said, still eyeing the data, barely even focusing on Erza.
"It's one thing to let us use the basement, that doesn't cost you anything. But as of Rukia's disappearance, you've personally taken a hand in this. You not only saved Ichigo and Masaki, but you're personally helping with training. You're organizing."
"What can I say, I'm consumed with guilt for having tied you down," Urahara said dismissively, and shrugged. Something in him, though, realized where this was going and slowly, the data began to shrink in priority.
"You never do anything unless it is for personal gain." He could practicallyhear her brows furrowing.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, actually. You've demonstrated this time and again. So I wonder...what's in this for you?"
The question was sharp, to the point, and the tone was clear- she was not going to let this go. Urahara spun round, still seated in his chair, and looked her in the eye. It was a valid question, and she could under no circumstances find out the truth.
"Tell me, Erza, have I ever been anything but useful to you?" He said, keeping his tone quiet and reserved. "Have I ever gotten in your way? Have I ever done anything to you that did not help you?
"The answer," he said, letting his tone rise a little, cutting her off before she could begin to reply, "is no. In fact, you come to me every time you need a favour that brute force can't resolve. And I am happy to oblige."
"For a price," Erza shot back.
"Has that price ever been unfair?" Urahara retorted. "Have I ever extorted or exploited you, Erza? Have I ever conned you out of money or favours I had not earned? Something for something, that is the oldest form of trade in human history- and I like to think I'm fair."
"Don't sidetrack the issue-" Erza tried, but Urahara cut in again.
"Have I ever been unfair? Answer the question, please."
"I suppose not, no," Erza said irritably.
"A new gigai. Identity papers. A million small favours. I helped you save the children from those quincies all those years ago, and I did it for free. Tell me more, please, about how I only ever do things out of self interest."
There was an edge to his tone, deliberate, as if he was slowly growing more irritable.
"That doesn't answer my question!" Erza insisted. "What's your stake in all of this?"
"I know your history," Urahara said, still avoiding the answer, "so believe you me when I say I understand. You barely escaped the claws of a wicked, manipulative bastard, so a less wicked, manipulative person like me can't inspire much trust. But as understanding as I am, I am running out of patience. I have been nothing but good to you, and I am getting tired of being treated as if I can do no good. I may not be your kind of touchy-feely, idealistic group-hugs-for-world-pleace friend, but believe you me, I am capable of doing better than you think of me."
"I..." Erza said hesitantly.
Urahara sighed theatrically. "Not convinced, no. I'm not surprised. Let me tell you something, then, that I never shared with anyone. The only one who knows, in fact, is Yoruichi. Did it ever occur to you that yours wasn't the only life ruined by Aizen Sousuke?"
"You mean..." Erza said, surprise apparent in her voice.
"I am not a hero, or a villain, or some amazing soldier." Urahara exposited. He was probably laying it on thick, he realized, but it would probably not matter. "Everything I ever wanted from life was to invent, to do science. I had exactly that. But Aizen Sousuke... he took that from me. He had me framed for murder. You know the hollowification incident?"
"That... you mean that was him?" Erza exclaimed. "You were framed?"
She was incredulous, seeming unsure what to make of this. Given her history, it was not at all an unlikely thing to believe- and its being true was a bonus, too.
Urahara nodded. "I was. I crossed him, by accident, and that was what came of it. I was never a saint, but I never was the dark-as-night villain I was made out to be. I lost an entire life because of him. I lost my science division, my passion, I lost all the friends and contacts I had, I lost my reputation... I lost absolutely everything. Everything except Yoruichi."
Erza took a deep breath. "I... I had no idea." She mumbled. "Wait, you're not lying, are you?"
"I guess I could be," Urahara said, and shrugged. "It's not like I have evidence for this. But ask yourself, does that seem unlikely?"
"...huh." Erza murmured, entirely taken aback.
"So I say," Urahara said sharply, letting his voice rise just enough to sound a little angry, "believe you me when I say I have stake in this. Believe you me when I say I can do good because it's right. Believe you me that you weren't the only one he hurt."
"I'm... I'm sorry." Erza said quietly. "I had no idea."
"It's all right," Urahara said, and sighed. "It's not like I expect people to understand me, anyhow. All they see is a greedy, shifty man looking to get ahead. Which, to be fair, is mostly true."
"I've wronged you." Erza said firmly, and Urahara had to suppress a smile; she was brimming with righteous sympathy. "I sincerely apologize. You're right- you've done right by us."
"Thanks," Urahara said curtly. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." He made a gesture with his head toward the computer screen.
"Of course," Erza said, a little awkwardly. "I'll... I'll uh, see you down in the basement."
"In twenty," Urahara said, nodding affirmatively.
He had only just gotten back to his numbers, grinning quietly to himself, when a familiar voice rang out, sultry and amused,
"You really haven't lost your touch, have you?"
Urahara let out a most undignified yelp, and actually fell off his chair.
"Aren't you supposed to be down there, training Tatsuki?" He snapped at Yoruichi, who had emerged from the shadows. It was frankly amazing how well she could hide herself when she wanted to, and he was grateful nobody else was there to see him lose his composure like so.
"'I'm no hero', eh?" Yoruichi said, mimicking him. "You weren't exactly subtle."
"Know your target, I remember that one from school," Urahara murmured irritably. "She reacts positively to honesty, and is not used to deception, so it was in fact ideal."
"And when she finds out what's really going on?" Yoruichi said quizzically.
"I'll... deal with those bruises then." Urahara said hesitantly. Being reminded of his mistake made him uneasy, and some part of him, oddly enough, felt ill at ease with his lie, despite its marvelous execution.
"They're making good progress down there," Yoruichi said. "Exceptional, even."
"Yes? What of it?" He said, puzzled by the change of topic.
"So just so I know, how expendable are they for the mission?"
"Do I detect a hint of judgment, Yoruichi?" He said, raising an eyebrow.
"No. I just need to know. How many of them do you expect to die?"
"They are soldiers now," he said, and shrugged. "To die is an occupational hazard. Even Erza couldn't fault me for that logic. As for what I want? What I expect? That one item retrieved at any cost. No need to go out of our way to get them killed- but when it comes down to it, it's much more important than any of their lives. That's not being cold, that's reality. Is that a problem?"
"...no." Yoruichi said, and sighed. "This is one thing I don't miss from our old lives. Responsibility for people living or dying."
"It has to be done." Urahara said dispassionately. "No point in worrying about what may come."
Yoruichi nodded. "You're right, I suppose."
"On that note..." Urahara said, rummaging through his desk, "I actually have a contingency plan. Plan B, you might say. Where did I put it..."
After some rummaging, he produced a small beetle-like device, no larger than the nail of his thumb, gleaming and chrome.
"What's that?" Yoruichi wondered.
"Get that to Rukia. In case it looks like we can't secure her."
"No questions asked, huh?"
"It won't kill or hurt her," Urahara said dismissively. "Your conscience will be clear. But keep it to yourself."
"Yes, it would be a real shame if people started trusting you after full disclosure, eh?" She rolled her eyes.
"Full disclosure and they'd never work with me." Urahara said neutrally. "Get down to the basement. We'll start training again soon."
Erza stood face to face with Ichigo, a stern look on her face. They were well away from the rest, because they were by far possessed of the most raw power, and a move gone awry could go catastrophically for any innocent bystander, especially with their upped pace. Ichigo held his sword at the ready, kept low, already posturing like a veteran. Erza could point to a hundred and one flaws, of course, but all things considered he had come remarkably far. She had upped the pace gradually as these weeks had gone by, pushing harder than before- and though she had feared many times that she had gone too far, he had not broken. He had adapted, and gotten stronger for it. His reiatsu control was still disgraceful, but his skill with the sword, his bearing as a shinigami, was markedly better.
It would not be enough.
"Ichigo, listen," she said, a hand on her sword, still sheathed.
"I'm good to go." Ichigo said resolutely. Facing her, training this seriously, any sense of immature masculine posturing had been beaten out of him. He was dedicated now, and fully submissive to her expertise.
"There's a problem," Erza said. "If I thought more training would fix it, I'd already be fighting you."
"What is it?" Ichigo said, almost irritably. It was clear he was itching for more training.
"Have you gotten any closer to learning the name of your zanpakutou?" Erza said. "Any dreams? Unusual feelings, instincts?"
"...no." Ichigo muttered. "I guess I figured it'd come naturally, or something."
"I hoped so too," Erza said, and nodded. "However, we have at most a week before it's time. Ichigo, what you will face there are monstrously powerful people. You and I will be our team's heavy hitters, and their lives may depend on your strength- not to mention your own."
"I... I get that," Ichigo murmured, disturbed by the mention of life and death. He had the skills of a warrior, all right, but not the mind of one. "But what am I supposed to do?"
"Not what you will do, no," Erza said, and shook her head. "This is my responsibility."
"Uh?" Ichigo said confusedly. "But I thought-"
"Zanpakutou react to the state of being of their partners," Erza explained. "My first taste of bankai was triggered in a state of near death. Extreme situations help."
"So, um... there's a problem we can't solve with brute-force training, and your solution is to use even more brute force. To a point where I might die." He said the words flatly, as if both in disbelief and utterly unsurprised at the same time. "No, no, that's... that's very you. I shouldn't expect anything else."
"I will go all out, even using my shikai," Erza said coolly. "And by all out I mean no punches pulled. I'll try to hurt you. I'll run you through, I'll cut you, I'll do whatever it takes. Are you prepared for this?"
"I have a choice?" Ichigo said incredulously.
"Yes." Erza said. "I would never force this on you. Either we do this, or you may walk away, ceasing training altogether."
"Oh, a choice," Ichigo snorted. "Right. 'Keep going or else', that sort of choice. Right."
"Do you accept?" Erza said sternly, not indulging his sarcasm.
"...yes." Ichigo said. "Do your worst."
Wordlessly, Erza pulled her sword, and without even using its command, it turned into two long, sleek katana, one held in each hand.
"Be ready, then."
He'd been ready. He had been sure he was ready. His mind and body was well-honed, trained in live missions and even more rigorously in training. He had gotten to know his aunt's style. He had gotten to test it on one of her best students, and had nearly come out on top. He should have been ready.
But when his aunt had come barreling down on him, slamming into him like a locomotive armed with two-feet-long razors spinning like a whirlwind, it had been all he could do to not be cut down instantly. He had been forced back, only barely keeping himself balanced, his arms working overtime to just block the absurd number of attacks. Within seconds, he had taken maybe a dozen minor cuts, and he suddenly realized just how big the difference between them was. She wasn't even using that much more energy than him, she was just... fast. Really, really fast, and she hit with the force of a tsunami.
There was no time to think, only to react. Desperately, his mind fell into all the patterns he knew and had trained for, so hard, reading her moves at an instinctive level. Parry a thrust, thrust, thrust, slash, thrust, slash slash thrust stab...
All in the span of a second.
It was insane. How in the world was he supposed to compete? How in the world would he be able to fight in the soul society, if this was the level he was going to go up against?
A burning pain interrupted his terrified musings, and he staggered back, a deep, thick line of red appearing over his chest. Erza kicked him in the midsection, keeping him off balance, and mercilessly attacked again.
She had cut him. Seriously. She had cut him across the chest, hard, and it could have killed him. Part of Ichigo desperately wanted to cry uncle, to give up, to just not die and take a moment to breathe, but something inside him, something stubborn, utterly refused.
This, he realized, might have been a mistake. A second later, his lame attempt at a parry in his disoriented state was batted aside, and she ran both of her blades through his gut, and Ichigo felt his feet lift from the ground, carried up by the hard, vicious metal of her blades. He let out a shocked gasp, spitting blood. As if they had never existed at all, the blades dissolved. He dropped to the floor, somehow keeping his footing, and Erza kicked him again. He could see her shikai re-forming, now a spear and shield. Relentlessly, without mercy or restraint, she thrust forward, shield raised high and spear stabbing at him. Breathing raggedly, almost panicking, Ichigo somehow managed to remember how to still fight, how to still defend, how to still stay up and alive.
There was a hot flash of pain as one thrust just barely missed his head, raking across his cheek, and Ichigo took one step after another back, parrying for dear life. His arms were getting heavy, and fear threatened to overtake him.
For Rukia! he insisted, somewhere deep in his mind. Survive! For her! She needs you, and so do all the others!
Without warning, the spear changed into a two-handed axe, the shield disappearing in the process, and Erza brought it to bear in a viciously powerful sideways cut. Ichigo parried, but there was a sharp pain in his arm as the sheer power of the blow sent him sliding to the left. It went numb, and he found he could barely move it.
Thinking quickly, he lashed out with his foot. It was a move born out of desperation, but it worked. Connecting solidly with her chest, it sent her back a couple of paces, and Ichigo quickly put whatever distance he could between them. He flexed the fingers of his numbed arm, and to his relief, they responded. At least the arm wasn't broken- although it couldn't have been far off.
Unclear and rattled with terror as his mind was, his heart still skipped a beat when he saw what came next. The black, huge sword had formed in Erza's hands. She had hardly ever used it in training; it was much too powerful, and she was already better with a two-handed style than he was anyway. Now, she was coming at him.
A chill ran down Ichigo's spine as he bent backwards, evading the first blow altogether. He lost his balance, but before he hit the ground, he pushed his feet into the ground hard, and turned it into a quick somersault. He was just barely able to deflect the next blow, and though he managed to turn it into a glancing strike, deflecting most of its force with a downwards parry, it still felt as it would take both his arms off.
His mentor did not stop, did not relent. Methodically and ruthlessly, she rained strike after strike down on Ichigo. Her attacks were slower than before; evidently the sword had weight to it, but it didn't matter. They were faster than his own still, and it was a miracle that he had not faltered yet. One single clean hit, he was sure, would kill him. He knew for a fact that he couldn't keep it up. His arms were getting wearier, each hit threatening to pop an arm out of its socket or worse, and he was getting slower. There were no advantages. There was just survival, and the sand in the hourglass was running out.
Finally, a forceful blow caught his sword, and the force was massive. He could let go of it, and perhaps retain his balance, but letting go of your weapon was never an option. Holding on to it as he did, the raw power knocked him off his feet, only one hand managing to hold on to the sword. Now on his back, he saw her raise the sword again. She couldn't...
Could she?
Erza raised her sword, and in slow motion, he saw it start to come down.
Then he realized that it was not, in fact, mere adrenaline and whatever other chemicals ran through his body changing his perception. The world was slowing down, literally so, to a crawl, finally freezing entirely. Like a statue, with a pitiless and firm face, Erza stood above him, sword raised and ready to come down. The world, he noticed, had gone grey.
"What the...?" He murmured confusedly, taking the time to breathe. Was this some sort of... near-death experience?
"Ichigo."
The voice echoed across all of reality, and Ichigo realized where he was. He looked up toward Erza again, only to find that she was gone. He stood on a flat, white surface, surrounded by blue sky. The top of a skyscraper, he realized, and in front of him stood the old man in his torn and tattered cloak, with his odd glasses and stern face.
"What... the hell..." Ichigo said, breathing raggedly. He realized that he was not actually short of breath, feeling oddly normal. It was odd- just seconds ago, his blood had been pumping, his mind a cocktail of terror, adrenaline and focus, and here he was, calmer than he had any right to be.
"Her gambit worked." The spirit said neutrally. "You stand at death's door, Ichigo. What will you do?"
"Give me your name, and I'll show you!" Ichigo said, standing up.
"You are arrogant still," the spirit remarked. "What right do you have?"
"We'll both die, how about that?" Ichigo snapped.
"It matters not," the spirit said in an infuriatingly calm tone. "The rules do not bend for something so petty as cessation of existence."
Ichigo felt like swearing. After a moment's consideration, he decided that it was entirely justified.
"What the fuck, old man?" He snarled. "I don't want to die! Tell me how I get out of this, or..."
"Or what?" The spirit said dismissively. "You have no power here, Ichigo. The only way to gain any is to learn my name."
"And you won't help me do it!" Ichigo snapped.
"It is your labour, not mine," said the zanpakutou.
Ichigo felt anger nearly overcoming him, and very badly wanted to launch into a ranting, furious tirade, to shout until his head hurt. He remembered his training, though.
Control yourself. Control your feelings, don't let them control you. Find a solution. Getting angry won't help.
Fists balled, he took a few angry breaths, and looked at the spirit.
"How long do I have?"
"Who can say?" It shrugged. "A second or less. But what comes to pass here is different. A second may well be eternity. Or five minutes."
"Five minutes." Ichigo murmured. "And you're not going to help."
"You really ought to show more consideration for him, you know,"
The voice was carefree, sounding as disinterested as one could while simultaneously actually talking to somebody. Light and deeply arrogant, it was markedly out of place. Ichigo snapped his head round from where it had come.
Floating through the air, looking as if he was laying on a divan, there was Tetsu no Tama. Adorned in his golden armour, he was demonstratively eating from a cluster of grapes, practically oozing superiority.
"What?!" Ichigo snapped. "How- how the hell-?"
"He is an intruder here," said the old man, scowling.
"Oh, don't mind me," Tetsu no Tama said. "But you have to admit, the boy needs a pointer or two. He's not very bright. Being a reflection of him, neither are you, of course."
"How are you even here?" Ichigo said incredulously. "Don't you zanpakutou have like... I dunno, private space?"
"I can go wherever I want," The haughty spirit said. "Although if you were to insist, I suppose I could say that, in this moment, there is a bond between you and Erza, strong enough for me to carry through. Or an apparition, at least."
"...you're here to help." Ichigo said with disbelief.
"You had best be grateful, you little mongrel cur," Tetsu no Tama said, almost mischievously. "To be perfectly frank, I'd have no trouble watching you die. You're a filthy little upstart with more power than you have any right to wield." He took another bite from his grapes.
"But then again, your death would pain my master so, especially since it would be at her hands." He rolled his eyes. "She is something of a fool, but she is my master."
"She wouldn't... kill me, would she?" Ichigo said uncertainly.
"She had to make it real," Tetsu no Tama said indifferently. "She most likely won't, but the question is if she can even stop herself. So, here I am."
"Be gone," the old man insisted. "You intrude on something sacrosanct."
"You're not exactly being helpful, so I intervene." Tetsu no Tama said, his voice cold but the hint of a smile on his face. "Somebody has to give the idiot a pointer."
"Yes, yes, I'm a low-born idiot, blah blah," Ichigo said irritably. "Why the hell won't he help me in the first place?"
"Because you're a low-born idiot," Tetsu no Tama echoed. "Have you even considered where he comes from?"
"What do you mean?" Ichigo said quizzically.
"Allow me," the regal figure said, dropping his grapes, which promptly vanished. "A normal zanpakutou develops over time. It learns to know itself, its powers, and the soul that gave birth to it. This poor spirit here... he was forced into existence, whole, all at once. I imagine that's quite traumatic."
"I need not your pity," The old man snapped.
"You do not have my pity, you have my contempt," Tetsu no Tama said sharply. "It is a pitiful state of being, though, born of desperation. In some sense it's noble, I suppose, to take drastic, life-risking measures for the sake of a friend..."
Theatrically, he yawned, as if bored.
"But in doing so, you violated a bond that didn't even have time to exist yet. Zanpakutou are proud, and we do not bend to our would-be masters' wills easily. Here he stands. Do you feel his pain?"
Carefully, Ichigo viewed the old man. A look of quiet anger was on his face, and he stared back at Ichigo.
"Of course you don't," Tetsu no Tama said, "Neither of you can feel or understand the other. You have no clue what to do next, and you," he said, pointing to the old man, "are too offended and stubborn to help."
"Did you come here just to sneer at us, or what?" Ichigo said angrily.
"I'm not finished!" Tetsu no Tama snapped. "You do not feel each other. He is stubborn, because you are stubborn. You are one and the same, yet distinct. That is a principal rule of zanpakutou and master."
"You're not what I'd call 'one and the same' with Erza," Ichigo shot back. "You're like day and night."
"You're ignorant." Tetsu no Tama said flatly. "I was born in a time when my master was in an uncertain, new place, trying to find her way in a strange world. Trying to be her best while striving for more power- I was born out of pride and ambition, and that is who I am. Only a base, low-grade zanpakutou is exactly like its master."
Ichigo looked at Zangetsu. Similar, yet alike. He had to connect to this irritable old man somehow, reach across his pride...
"Listen," Ichigo said, looking straight into his zanpakutou's eyes, ignoring the intruder, "I need you to work with me. I'm new to this whole business too, and I... I had no idea of the implications of what I was doing. I trusted my aunt. Maybe I should have been more careful. But you need to work with me, give me a chance, or it's over for the both of us. We both deserve more than that, don't you think?"
The spirit gave him a long, quiet look, somewhere in between scornful and ponderous.
"Why do you deserve my name?" It said at last.
"Maybe I don't." Ichigo said, and shrugged. "But if you let me have it, I'll work to be worthy of it. I'll do what I have to do. I'll think of how you feel. I'll speak to you and learn who you are."
The spirit, having stood a few paces away, took a few steps closer. It was hard to read him, but something told Ichigo he was not quite as hostile as he had been earlier.
"I would hold you to that," he said gravely. "If you failed to uphold your promises, I would withhold my power."
"That's only fair," Ichigo nodded. "So what do you say?"
He extended a hand, hoping with great anticipation that it would work. Slowly, the spirit extended its hand, and shook it firmly.
"Partners?" Ichigo said with a grin.
"Partners." The spirit said, an almost approving tone to its voice.
"So... your name?" Ichigo said.
"You already know it."
"I... I do." Ichigo said hesitantly. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance... Zangetsu."
Just how he knew, he had no idea. The knowledge simply welled into his mind, like a long-lost memory forgotten and then recovered. Tetsu no Tama was nowhere to be seen, apparently having phased out of their world, and there was a general sense of rightness in Ichigo's chest. Zangetsu. Cutting moon. It felt... appropriate, somehow.
Without warning he was back in the real world, all his pains and adrenaline in place again, Erza's sword raised above him. His sword now transformed, looking absurdly like an oversized kitchen knife, Ichigo made a sideways cut with it. There was a tremendous energy pouring out from him now, as if having come out of nowhere, and the sheer force of his cut somehow pulled him forward, on his feet. It didn't even nearly connect with Erza, but as he found out an instant later, it didn't have to. Energy surged forward from the edge of his sword, sharp and vicious, and hit her square in the chest. She was knocked off her feet, a massive cut across her torso. Blood sprayed over the ground, and Ichigo put a hand over his mouth, horrified. Dropping his newly formed Zangetsu, he hurried to her side. Her own zanpakutou had sealed itself, and she was coughing blood.
"Aunt!" He cried out, kneeling by her side. "Oh- oh my god, are-are you-"
Shinigami were durable, he knew, but the thought of having done this to her was enough to make him forget.
"Are-are you okay?" Erza said, forcing herself up into a sitting position, still holding on to her sword. "Did it work?"
"Are you kidding me?" Ichigo said, his nerves wracked. "It should be me asking you that! And yes, it did!"
"Good, then," Erza said, and nodded. "Don't... worry about me. I've had worse."
"I'm so, so sorry," Ichigo murmured feverishly, looking at her helplessly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I-"
"I'll be fine," Erza grunted. "It always looks worse than it is. Damn... you're pretty strong, though."
Ichigo was about to launch into another terrified tirade, and Erza promptly put a hand over his mouth.
"Listen," she said, her voice straining a little, "you did great and I am proud of you. Don't blame yourself- this was all on me. Understood?"
Ichigo nodded sheepishly, Erza's hand still clamped over his mouth.
"Good. Now... go get Orihime. For the both of us." She grimaced, her voice turning into a croak toward the end.
Hands on, indeed...
With a spinning kick, Tatsuki used her staff to launch herself into the air, slamming both feet into Yoruichi. The dark-skinned woman blocked her with both hands, and Tatsuki landed nimbly on the ground, continuing her assault with a set of quick thrusts from her staff, setting up for a sweep at her not-mentor's feet. She dodged it easily enough, jumping into the air, which was the opening Tatsuki had been waiting for. Slamming her staff forward, it hit Yoruichi in the gut. There was a discharge of energy, and she was sent flying. Mercilessly, Tatsuki surged forward, eager to push her advantage.
When she first had unlocked the power of her staff- or rather, started to use her own power through it- she had been afraid she might hurt Yoruichi. It had soon become apparent that her fears were entirely unfounded. She wasn't sure just how powerful the woman was; suffice to say it was best summed up as 'a lot'. She had even encouraged Tatsuki to go all out. With some hesitation, that was what Tatsuki had eventually started doing.
She had no delusions that she was strong or fast enough to actually keep up with Yoruichi. She was adjusting her strength and speed, slowing down as you would for a child, but there was also the objective fact that Tatsuki was getting stronger and faster, and rapidly at that.
In the weeks that had passed, with its intense, almost non-stop sparring, Yoruichi had turned out to be a much better teacher than either of them had expected. She would put emphasis on slowing down, taking small breaks to run through the motions of their last bout, which parts worked and which ones needed improving. She made Tatsuki perfect smaller, simpler moves, one by one, before moving on to the next. She was a true expert, that much was clear, although you never would have guessed with how she acted normally. When she wasn't busy throwing punches, Tatsuki found herself wondering just what sort of life she had once led, to grant her that level of skill. It was above and beyond that of any human, that was for sure... and that made it a privilege to learn from her.
She surged forward, power running through her staff and into her body, enveloping her like a cloak, and she attempted a quick, wide swipe. Yoruichi had already recovered, though, landing on her feet, and smoothly bent backwards, the swipe running wide over her. Quickly, Tatsuki pulled back, knowing what would come next. Practiced hundreds of times before, a series of kicks and punches designed to find a crack in her defense. Almost with ease, Tatsuki defended, only taking a few steps before she started to gain control of the fight again.
She was getting there. She was getting stronger. She would not be anybody's dead weight.
Training looked quite different for Masaki and Uryu. The first week had gone by entirely without any form of martial discipline, the two of them struggling to perform even basic tasks under the oppressive difficulty placed on them by their gloves.
The problem had been quite straightforward, once the initial shock wore off. It was like re-learning reishi usage all over again, but it wasn't mentally challenging- rather, it had been like chopping down a tree or laying a wall- a simple if tedious task, with an end in sight. To have been two had helped, not just for mental support, but because sharing information had actually been useful. More than ever before, the two of them were bonding, even if it were out of necessity.
The second week, the two of them had started using their bows. Now as the second week was ending, they were finally starting to reap the benefits. Their bows were manifest as physical, elaborate things, graceful and large, and though heavy to string, fired bolts far stronger and more accurate than they ever had before. Uryu was in awe of it, however much he tried not to show it. Masaki, for her part, was almost enjoying herself. There was something about the discipline, the art to it, the skill it took to execute, that appealed to her. In a way, she understood the shinigami a little better now, despite their differences.
Now they fired their bows, dashing back and forth, having set up what crude targets they could. It was still rather difficult, the glove still having put a restraint on them, but once they entered the soul society, a realm made up entirely of spiritual particles, this would be more than made up for. They were getting stronger, together. No matter what, they would make it.
Urahara nimbly dodged another punch, and rapped Chad across the head with his cane, as he did each time the boy missed. He endured all punishment stoically, to a point where it almost took the fun out of abusing him, but Urahara persevered. The boy had strength, all right, downright abnormal, and was more than fit to take on a high ranked officer. Excepting one small problem- rather major, in fact. What he had in strength, he lacked in speed, and the moment a skilled shunpo user started taking him seriously, he'd die the death of a thousand cuts- or just the one, depending on the strength and ability of his enemy. With this in mind, Urahara had trained this aspect alone, teaching him how to react fast enough. In such a short time span, he'd never learn to be that fast- but he could learn how to handle a faster opponent, at least well enough. He was making steady progress, just like everybody else. Part of Urahara wanted nothing more than to poke and prod at all of them, take data and examine what made them tick, even if it took years, being ever the curious-minded scientist. There was no time, however. There was... no time.
Even with Erza heading this expedition, with Yoruichi backing them up, they were all of them walking into the jaws of death, and he did not share their naive optimism. He suppressed a sigh, and kept up the training. It was a lot of effort for a long shot, with small chances of success. Then again, the unlikely happened all the time. The ordinary would not exist without the extraordinary, after all.
Orihime, for her part, was doing even better. Under Tessai's tutelage- which was by far the least physically demanding- she was developing her abilities wonderfully. They were absolutely fascinating, a total mystery to Urahara, for all his knowledge as a scholar. Would that he could study it...
As it was, she was learning to if not master her skills, then at least use them adequately. To support her allies directly and indirectly, to protect, to heal, even to fight. In her own way, she might just end up being the linchpin of the entire group, provided they were all working together. Optimistic, of course... but optimism was all they'd have. Oh well. Some things just had to be done...
It was just a few days ahead of their deadline when, in the morning, Erza called for their training to be put on hold. All of them were a little surprised, curious. Whatever was important enough to stop for? Gathered together all, with Urahara, Tessai and Yoruichi standing in the background, Erza rounded the kids up in a semi-circle.
"So... what's up?" Ichigo was the first to speak up.
Erza had a strange look on her face, markedly unlike the confident, stern front she normally kept. Taking one, two deep breaths, she looked across all of them, almost as if she was nervous.
"I am sure it must be important." Uryu said politely. "Miss Scarlet?"
"What is it, Erza?" Orihime asked.
Erza breathed out again, and made a fist.
"There are some... things that you need to know before we set out," she started to explain, forcing the words out. "We are heading into a place you have no idea about. A place I once called home."
Ichigo's bearing sharpened, and he furrowed his brows, looking keenly interested. "You mean... where you came from?"
"Yes," Erza said, taking another deep breath. "Where I... came from. Mind you, that's a very long story and I'm going to skim over most of it. You'll know what's necessary to know."
"That's plenty," Orihime said cheerily.
"All right then," Erza said, tensing a little.
"I was not born on this earth. I was born on another world, well over a hundred years ago, a world a lot like our and a lot different. Magic was the norm, and humans were not the only sentient species."
Her audience was drinking it in, their expressions ranging from Uryu's casually interested to Ichigo's fascinated.
"As a child, I was made a slave. I escaped, a good friend dying in the process, and I was taken into a guild of mages where I grew up to become strong, to learn everything I stand for now. I won't get bogged down there- suffice to say I died nineteen years old, giving my life for a friend."
There were a range of expressions of pity, of sympathy and empathy from her audience, and Erza quickly added,
"That was a long time ago, and I got over it. The important stuff is still ahead of us."
"I was sent into the soul society by a shinigami, somehow, and my soul found itself in the afterlife. I made my way there as best I could, and I was strong. Strong enough that the shinigami noticed me, and recruited me- under a bit of threat at that. I accepted, and I went through the shinigami academy. I... made friends there."
She paused, and took another few breaths. None of them had seen her like this before, seeming so open, so vulnerable, finding it so hard to even speak.
"They died, you see," Erza said, her voice straining to keep steady, as the old wounds made themselves remembered. "A freak accident on our first mission. Everyone in my class, except one... killed by a hollow too strong for us all. But I... made it through. I did my best to get stronger, to be the best me that I could be, so that I could make the afterlife a better place. I wanted power, so I could make it... better."
"Better?" Ichigo said quietly. "What do you mean?"
Erza grimaced. "Reincarnation, paradise... whatever religion tells you about the afterlife, it's not true. It ranges from being a livable, decent place to being an utter hellhole. Most of it is like living in a third world country. The Japan of today? With law, order, human rights and a comfortable, rich middle class?" She shook her head with distaste. "You'd find living in the afterlife to be terrible, most likely. People are at the mercy of hollow attacks, warlords rule the areas, and... the Gotei Thirteen does nothing about it. But I'm getting ahead of myself."
There was a collective look of shock from the group, excepting Chad and Uryu, who bore her words stoically.
"So that's... the afterlife, huh?" Ichigo mumbled.
"It is," Erza nodded. "When first I became a shinigami, rising through the ranks, all I wanted was to change that. But nobody wanted what I wanted, and... I started to despair. That was when he found me."
"Is that the guy you mentioned back then, when I was injured?" Ichigo said.
Erza nodded. "Aizen Souske. He came to me at a time when I wanted justice, and pretended he wanted that as well. He offered me a chance to join his rebellion, and I did. He is a cruel and ruthless man, but at the time, I thought of him as a saviour. Somebody to... right all of the wrongs. So I became a traitor, for his sake."
She took a deep breath. "It is because of him I was thrown out. I am a criminal, but not what they think I am. I chose right over law. I did wrong in doing so, but not because of the choice itself. Sort of."
"So that's it..." Orihime muttered, looking uncharacteristically focused.
"It is him that I go back to face," Erza said and nodded, "and it is him who is behind Rukia's sentence. The influence he has..."
She shook her head. "I'm getting ahead of myself again."
"There are thirteen captains of the Gotei, and I will tell you about each one. Keep this in mind, under no circumstances, ever, do you attempt to fight one. You will lose, and you will lose badly, with the exception of myself, Masaki and Yoruichi. Is that clear?"
There were a chorus of nods and murmured affirmatives, and Erza continued.
"The first captain is the captain-general of the Gotei, Yamamoto Genryusai-Shigekuni. He is the strongest single soul in the afterlife, and nobody can match him. Needless to say, you do not fight him. Most likely, though, he will not involve himself directly. The second captain is Soifon, the head assassin and spymaster. She is small, nimble and quick, and she will kill you unless she is going to capture you for information. Do not fight her."
"I am sensing a theme..." Tatsuki muttered.
"The third is Ichimaru Gin," Erza continued. "One of Aizen's lieutenants, he's a sadistic murderer with a smile on his face. If you see him, run. Do not fight him."
"The afterlife sounds just as chipper as I imagined," Uryu remarked.
"The fourth is Unohana Retsu. She is a good person, and it is safe to surrender to her. Nevertheless, she is one of their very strongest. As I said... do not fight her." Erza said. "The fifth is Aizen himself. He has brown hair and glasses, and will make himself seem like the kindest, most understanding soul in the world, but do not believe a word he says. His power is illusion, perfect illusion, and once he uses it you are helpless."
"Well..." Ichigo said, the nature of their mission starting to dawn on him.
"You already saw the captain of sixth," Erza said. "Ruthless and graceful but fair, he can be surrendered to- but it is absolutely fatal to engage him in combat. Seventh is Komamura Sajin, a giant of a man. He is honourable, but... as the above, much too strong. Eighth is Kyoraku Shunsui, and though he seems affable and laid back, do not be fooled. He is stronger than you, than me, than most anybody else. Ninth is another of Aizen's people, Tosen Kaname. He is blind, but do not be fooled. He fancies himself merciful and just, but to fall into his hands is to fall into Aizen's, and that is not an option. Next is Hitsugaya Toshiro, the youngest of the captains, white-haired and short. Eleventh..."
She paused, and took a breath.
"The captain of eleventh is a demon and you must never go near him," she said, her voice passionate, almost angry. "He lacks any of the skills that the other use casually, but he is still so madly strong and dangerous that he earned his place as captain of the most vicious division of all. He's a murderer who lives for nothing but fighting."
"Uhm. Okay. Got it." Ichigo murmured, taken aback.
"The only man worse than him is the captain of twelfth, Kurotsuchi Mayuri," Erza said, a note of hate in her voice. "He is what our friend over there would be," she pointed toward Urahara, "if he had no moral restraints whatsoever. Kurotsuchi is a monster who cares for nothing but scientific research, and would gladly torture you all to death for scientific data."
"No objection there, no," Urahara concurred. "He's mad as a hatter and even eviller than miss Scarlet makes him sound."
"That leaves thirteenth, and one of the few good people left. Ukitake Jushiro. Sickly, but powerful, he could be surrendered to, and you could expect fair treatment. You'd know him by his white hair."
"If we do run into one of these guys, then?" Ichigo said tentatively. "Like the murdering psycho or the... science murdering psycho?"
"Run." Erza said simply. "Unless somebody strong enough is around, run.Dying would be your second best option."
"Yikes..." Tatsuki muttered.
"This is not some Sunday picnic," Erza said firmly. "This is a mission, with the risk of death attached to it. I'd rather have gone alone, but now that you are here, you might as well know the risks. That's it in a nutshell- thirteen murderously powerful individuals, three of which are party to a conspiracy to overthrow the rest. And I used to be part of their group."
Ichigo frowned. "Well... that was a lot of information. Like, a lot. I don't remember half of those names."
Erza nodded. "We're taking all of today off. I'm teaching you every relevant fact I know, and you'll repeat it till you know it by heart."
Ichigo nodded, suppressing a grumble. "Back it up a bit, though. So... you really were a traitor?"
Erza looked stange. "...yes," she said, her voice sounding strained again.
"I want to say I was vulnerable, that I was led astray. That I was manipulated. It's not untrue, but... I am responsible for my own actions. I saw the Gotei and I saw that it was wrong. I wanted to end its callousness, its tyranny and cruelty, but in doing so I turned to an evil, tyrannical and cruel man."
"You did what you thought was right," Orihime insisted, keen to defend her adopted mother.
"Yes." Erza said flatly. "I did. That was the problem. Before then, I always believed that there was right and there was wrong. Now I see that right and wrong... they depend entirely on the situation. Back then, there was no right choice. To continue serving the Gotei, or to serve Aizen, neither worked. I lost a lot of friends, a whole life, but... in some ways, ending up where I am now seems the better option."
"I won't judge," Ichigo said hastily. "I haven't been through what you been through, and... it can't have been easy. It's not my business."
"Enough," Erza said. Seein she was clearly troubled, the group let the matter lie. "Like I said... we have a lot to go through, and it's more important than a day of training. Furthermore, we have only a few days left- and the two last, you will spend resting." A hum of discontent and disagreement threatened to rise between the youths, but Erza snuffed it out immediately, her voice rising. "This is not up for debate. Today we talk intel, then we train a couple days more, and the last two, you rest. Believe me, you'll need it."
Further protests were, they realized, futile, and as always Erza got her way.
It was the last day before they were to depart, and as night fell, Erza found she could not sleep. Anticipation wracked her nerves, long-buried memories surfacing. Old friends she had not seen for decades, most of which surely thought of her as an evil traitor, the worst of the worst. People she would have to face. Most of all, the face of Aizen Sousuke, a man she had once sworn loyalty to. She would have to face him, she knew it somehow. If he was behind this, and he undoubtedly was...
Trying to shake off her anticipations and fears, she walked round the shop, heading toward the basement once more. She had slept here the last few weeks, dedicating herself entirely to her new purpose, now on vacation from her job. A few sets of sword practice forms would clear her head.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" The voice was unmistakable, the perfect mix of teasing and serious. Urahara Kisuke. Her opinion of him had... changed. Although she did not trust him, not quite, he had been instrumental in organizing this mission, and had done so with gusto. This considered, she refrained from scowling at him, and continued.
"I figured you'd be up, actually," he continued, "which is just as well, because there is something I'd like you to see."
"What?" Erza said flatly. She had just got out of bed, too haunted by old memories to sleep yet still tired, and was in no mood for his usual tomfooleries.
"Please, come with me," he said with a smile, which seemed unusually genuine. "I assure you that it will be worth your time."
"It had better," Erza muttered, and followed as he turned his back to her, leading her toward one of his back rooms. The interior was stacked with dusty shelves, containing all sorts of unremarkable trinkets. Further inside was something, standing upright under a sheet of fabric. Urahara stopped by it, grinning as if in anticipation- of a kind running in an opposite direction to Erza's.
"Well, what is it?" She said, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. It wasn't fair, if she was honest with herself, but neither was being unable to sleep, knowing she had to face what was ahead of her.
"You and Yoruichi talk, I know," he said, but Erza cut him off.
"I swear to god, if you're going to be cryptic, I'm just going to walk out."
"Patience, patience," Urahara said hastily. "You and Yoruichi talk, and Yoruichi talks to me. Not to imply that she spies on you for me, of course, but some things make their way to my ear through friendly banter."
"Get to the point," Erza said bluntly.
"You were a mage once. As a mage, you wore armour- a state of things which, by the way, seems entirely overpowered and ought to be nerfed- as is reflected in your bankai."
"What of it?" Erza said, feeling mildly irked. She wasn't keen on sharing her past, and Urahara having gained some knowledge of it, even if it was indeed innocent, was not something that made her glad.
"Oh, nothing," Urahara said. "It's just that it gave me an idea. And sometimes when I get an idea on my head, it just won't leave."
Grabbing the sheet with one hand, he pulled it clean off whatever it was standing on. As if on cue, a light lit up just above it, illuminating the object beneath.
Erza blinked. It was a mannequin of sorts, or at least the torso and head part of one. On top of it...
Armour. Half-plate mail, a gleaming, chrome-coloured cuirass, with solid pauldrons attached. A couple of minor plates to protect the arms, and a metal rim extending below the waist. Solid lengths of plate running down the thighs, stopping above the knees. A metal collar by the neck, to guard against thrusts to the neck. It was brand new, masterfully crafted, and on the chest, emblazoned in bright red, was the emblem of Fairy Tail. It was certainly not her old armour, that she had once worn in life, but it was close enough.
"How..." she said, her voice trembling.
"Taking your measurements was easy enough," Urahara said dismissively. "And in case you're going to ask, no, it was nothing ungentlemanly- I just took it based on your shihakusho. It's amazing, the things you'll learn from a laundry basket. The emblem... well, you carry it on your arm. Not too hard to copy."
He sounded proud as he continued expositing, his penchant for flair and drama resurging.
"This... it's..." Erza said, honestly dumbstruck. "But... will it even work? It's- it's nice- well actually it's brilliant, but... hollows don't care about a sheet of metal, so..."
He grinned. "The ore I used for the plate was infused with reishi at a molecular level, effectively making it as much spiritual as it is physical. It's quite brilliant, actually. I enlisted the help of an armorer from Toledo, and over the course of a few months, I had it made. It's based on a Prussian Landsknechte- not that you'd now what a Prussian is, I suppose. Or a Landsknechte. It's not without quite a few designs of my own, I should add. In effect, this thing will act like a second skin, absorbing your own energy. It will be as strong as you need it to be."
"That..." Erza said, slowly walking closer, inspecting the armour with pure fascination. It was expertly crafted, she had to admit, not a single item out of place. "But my bankai..."
"Did I mention that the straps are kido-enchanted, and can attach and unattach themselves at the user's will?" He said, grinning proudly. "Taking it off won't even require the use of your hands. In addition, it has a tracing signature, in case you should lose it."
Slowly, Erza lifted the cuirass up from the mannequin, and gingerly separated its back and front plate, sliding it over her head. As she put her arms through, the armour fastened itself just like Urahara had promised, sitting tight but not too tight. It took little more effort to fasten the arm-plates. To her delight, she discovered a pair of armoured gloves as well, to complete the set. With light protection for the arms, and heavy protection around the chest and midsection, it allowed for both shielding and mobility. It felt... perfect.
"Do you like it?" Urahara said, obviously knowing the answer.
"I... yes." Erza murmured flatly, staring at the immaculate working of the gloves. "Just... why? Why go to all this trouble?"
"Well.. suffice to say that when I get a project in my mind, the process of creating is more enjoyable than the end result," Urahara said smoothly. "It was a new and unique challenge. That, and... I think you might need it."
"Thank you." Erza said, honestly and from her heart. "I... I don't even know what to say..."
"Well, I believe you just said 'thank you'-" Urahara started, but was cut off by Erza catching him in a bear hug.
"Can't... breathe..." he choked dramatically, as Erza held him close.
Armour. Encasing her chest, her body, a sensation she never realized how much she missed. It felt so solid and safe. Now... now she would face whatever came her way. And perhaps get some sleep, for that matter.
GKR speaking. I just wanted to comment on Ichigo's zanpakutou scene. I know some people will probably think it's uninspired, or insufficient, and I can see where you'd be coming from. However, the traditional approach in such a scene is some vague, generic test of character, some riddle or puzzle for the hero to solve, and I neither wanted to write one, nor could I think of one that fit. Rather, I chose a simple promise. Whether that worked, I leave up to you. Bear in mind, as we're currently engaged in a re-telling of bleach, I am trying my best not to give you too much of what you've already seen; I'm trying my best to diversify my content.
(And no, Ichigo still won't be the protagonist- we'll be trying to split screen time evenly across the soul society arc, with Erza as the main focus.)