One more chapter before the end of the month! I want to thank everyone that left a review in our last chapter, that really helped us out! I cant wait to see what you guys have to say about this one! Not much more for me to say, lets get right to it!
Thanks once again to Greatkingrat88 (for writing) and jcampbellohten (for being our Beta)
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.
A new day had dawned, and though the Gotei was still on full alert, the search had turned up nothing. Little by little, things were coming closer to normal, the patrols having decreased as each division had to return to their normal duties. This had left Lisanna with a golden opportunity. At the crack of dawn, she had fetched Renji and Rangiku, freshly dismissed from the hospital, and brought them to the forested area where Rod had shown her the entrance to the cave where, according to him, Erza was training one of her own to learn bankai... in a three-day span.
Whatever the case, however unbelievable that sounded, it was an opportunity too good to miss. At worst, they would get some answers, update Erza's group on their current battle plan, and get a feel for each other. At best... well, who knew?
As she made her way up toward the mouth of the cave, Lisanna felt a surge of excitement run through her body. Part of her felt like a student, doing something she wasn't supposed to, and it was a little thrilling. An even bigger part of her felt a bubbling sort of joy at the prospect of meeting Erza again. Although it had been twenty years, there was a particular bond between them. Not just that of friendship, but of being the only two people from Fairy Tail in this grim tale of reapers.
"I don't see nothing," Renji said and frowned as they stepped up to the cave entrance. "You're telling me this is gonna lead us to Erza? It's just a plain old cave. You could hide, I guess, but..."
"Wait and see," Lisanna said, with the cheeky smile of somebody who knew something you didn't and was rather happy about it. She stepped inside, her two compatriots following behind her hesitantly. She took a deep breath, and stepped into what looked like a rock wall. The simple illusion dispelled as she passed through it, revealing a passage.
"Huh," Renji said.
"Told you," said Lisanna, and grinned.
Erza was in the middle of a simple practice routine when she sensed them coming. Recognizing all three, familiar as a well-worn shirt, she interrupted her workout and hurried to meet them. A little sweaty, a look of cheer on her face, that was how the trio saw her again as they stepped into the light of the artificially enhanced cave.
Erza stopped just a couple yards from them, taking her time to look at them, a wide smile breaking out across her face. Sure, she had run into Renji earlier, but Rangiku and Lisanna she hadn't seen for over twenty years. She stood quiet for a few seconds.
"Long time, no see," Lisanna said happily, her tone quietly glad, subdued but unmistakably merry.
"Long time, no see," Erza echoed. Lisanna caught her in a quick hug, before taking a step back, practically having to pry herself off Erza, whose grip was rather like that of a lovesick, particularly buxom bear.
"I..." Erza said. "How have you been?"
"I wish I had time to catch up, but we don't," Lisanna said, still smiling. "We're supposed to report back soon. Can't waste any time, unfortunately."
"You always were more professional than me," Erza said happily, as if she hadn't just been shot down.
"In short, I made vice-captain, and... well, life continued on, but it wasn't the same. Not without you."
Erza nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed. The last few days had been filled with violence, with hostility, and to re-unite with a friendly face... that there were people still on her side, like Isane, Momo, Lisanna; each one hit home.
Some people thrive on loneliness, and you are not one of those people.
The words, brought back from so long ago when she had first seen Isane for therapy, rung truer than ever before.
"So..." Renji said a bit awkwardly, "uh, no time to waste and all that?"
"Oh," Erza said. "Yes, of course. Still... I'm glad to see you all."
"I brought them here. Figured it would do them some good to meet you again, go through our plan together. Rod's had me memorize what he wants us to do on the day of," Lisanna explained.
Erza nodded. "We'll get to that in a second, then." She looked at Renji and Rangiku.
Lisanna sighed. "Make it quick, then."
Erza walked over to the two, giving them a look.
"Rangiku, Renji," she said, "I'm glad to see you both. Are you both ready to do what it takes?"
"Right down to business, huh?" Rangiku muttered. "I... I'm not here for some tearful reunion. I'm not even sure you're innocent."
"But you still came," Erza retorted.
"Yes," Rangiku said with a nod. "I came because I wanted to know. About my old captain. About Isshin. Imagine my surprise when I run into a ryoka who looks just like Shiba Kaien, and uses Isshin's signature attack. Imagine my surprise when he tells me who his father is. I need answers, Erza."
Erza blinked. "Ah. Answers. Well... you know what? If you go into the cave, you'll find a pretty, brown-blond quincy. She'll have all the answers you'll need."
"Who is she?" Rangiku asked.
"His wife," Erza said bluntly.
"His wife?" Rangiku blurted out. "Well... if he had a son, I guess there had to be a mother, huh?"
"It's right that way," Erza said, pointing further down the cave.
"Then... I'll go. I'd stay and catch up, but you know what Lisanna said..." Rangiku said, sounding a little guilty.
"Go ahead," Erza said reassuringly.
"Sure. Uhm, nice seeing you again? Considering the circumstances, at least."
"Nice to see you too," Erza said. With that, Rangiku headed deeper into the cave to find Masaki.
"Renji," Erza said, a little strictly, turning to her former pupil, "I take it you got your head straight?"
"Nothin's straight about this mess," Renji said, and Erza could hear that young boy in him still; a little cocky, at ease, confident in himself.
"But here we are."
"Yeah... here we are." Renji gave her a look. "We're gonna die, ain't we?"
"Maybe," Erza admitted. "Is that a problem?"
"Some things are worth dying for, you taught me that. Still holds true," he said firmly.
"If it means standing up to your captain?"
"If it means having my every limb hacked off, I'd do it for Rukia," he said, and there was a bit of heat in his voice, a bit of heart and passion. It warmed Erza to hear it.
"I ain't some lovesick puppy no more, but she's my oldest friend. She deserves better than this. Hell... everyone does. If that means treason, so be it. I'll stand up to him, to the entire damn Gotei Thirteen, and if I die I'll be in good company."
Erza put a hand on his shoulder, and smiled.
"That's the boy I trained back then. You became a good man when I was away, Renji."
"The fucking things you get us to do..." Renji muttered. "I really hope you ain't secretly evil, 'cause the influence you have is something else."
"I'll try not to blow up the world," Erza said with a chuckle. "For now, I have a question."
"Yeah?"
"Your zanpakutou. How far along have you come with it? How much have you bonded with it?"
"Huh?" Renji said, seeming surprised by the sudden change of topic. "I guess... I'm doing pretty well? We've talked a lot, Zabimaru and I, for the last twenty years. Bonded over time, ya know?"
"Then I have an offer for you."
"What?"
Erza looked him in the eye. "How would you like to learn bankai?"
Rangiku and Masaki both felt a little awkward. The two of them had gotten as far as introductions, but neither had managed to say much to each other past that, looking at each other, each waiting for the other to speak up next. Masaki didn't quite know what the busty woman wanted from her; apparently she had been Isshin's second-in-command. Rangiku for her part wasn't sure what to think.
"Well... I guess I can see why he stayed," she said at last, shooting Masaki an uneasy smile.
"Oh? Um..."
"Because you're pretty. That's what I was trying to say. Not that I'm hitting on you or anything, I'm pretty sure I'm straight. Just saying." Rangiku said the words, cursing herself. Being awkward was not something she was used to.
"...Thanks," Masaki said.
"You know, the son of a bitch always told me blonds weren't his type," Rangiku said, letting a nervous smile creep across her face. "Can you believe that even with these in his face-" she quickly grabbed her own breasts, jiggling them up and down a little- "he never even made a pass on me?"
"I'm glad he was a gentleman," Masaki said a little stiffly.
"He was," Rangiku continued, unwilling to go back to an awkward silence, "kind of an idiot, irresponsible, corny, stupid, but... he was always a good leader, and he was never inappropriate with anyone."
"That does sound like my Isshin," Masaki said, finally returning that smile, however uneasily. "Would you believe he's become a doctor?"
"Him?" Rangiku said, and gaped theatrically. "No way, a doctor? That man is in charge of other people's health?"
"You'd never have guessed it, right? But... he really sort of shaped up when I got pregnant. Still goofy and silly, but he took the whole provider thing seriously. I still have to work an office job to make ends meet, but... I think we did well."
"He really changed, huh?" Rangiku muttered. For a moment, the two fell silent.
"So what was he like-" Masaki started.
"So what is he like now-" Rangiku said, at the same time. They both stopped, falling quiet, and giving each other a look before bursting into laughter, the tension finally dropping a little.
"You first," Masaki said charitably. "I'm sure you must have a lot of questions."
"No, no, you can go first," Rangiku said.
"This could take a while. Won't people miss you at your division?"
Rangiku snorted. "Pfft, I'll just say I overslept. Wouldn't be the first time."
"You're terrible," Masaki said with a chuckle.
"I'm making up for all the time under that goofball. Do you know how obnoxious it is, having to be the responsible one?"
Masaki rolled her eyes. "You're preaching to the choir here. It's a good thing we had Erza; two-on-one, he was a bit easier to bully into submission."
Rangiku laughed. "I'd have loved to see that. Let me guess- tantrums, tears, over-dramatic exclamations about how betrayed he feels?"
"You really do know my Isshin," Masaki said with a grin.
The two laughed together.
"So..." Rangiku said after a bit, "do you mind... do you mind going first, after all? Everyone's thought he was dead for so long. I was his vice-captain, and I wasn't even the one closest to him. What happened to him?"
Masaki's laugh died down, but the smile stayed on her face.
"Well," she said, "it started when I was still a teenager. You know the story about the prince in shining armour, who rescues the princess from the evil dragon?"
"Oooh," Rangiku said excitably, "now that's romantic."
"Well, like that, except the prince was the one who needed saving, there was no shining armour, and the dragon was a hollow with a nasty reiatsu-draining ability."
"Go on," Rangiku nodded.
"Well, there I was just patrolling the city, sort of like a superhero, looking all sorts of gallant, when suddenly I hear the quivering, fearful cry of a prince in need..." Masaki started.
Rangiku laughed again, and listened intently as the quincy began to tell her tale.
Momo had at first been a little stumped as to just how she would help. Offering her sword- or rather, her magecraft- was the obvious contribution, but it felt... insufficient. Entirely insufficient, given their opposition.
But, necessity is the mother of invention, and Momo had had a bit of an epiphany. It wasn't complicated, which wasn't such a bad thing; it meant it was less likely to fail. The only problem was that one had to be either Unohana Retsu or insane to approach Kenpachi willingly. The man was like a wild animal, entirely deserving of his fearsome reputation, and somebody small and timid like Momo had an advantage, perhaps, only by the merit that she looked too weak to pay much attention to. She could wield awesome power if she wanted to, but Zaraki Kenpachi was power incarnate, an icon of the Gotei's raw strength.
This was exactly why Momo was heading toward the eleventh division, her heart beating more quickly the closer she got. Erza was away, biding her time and training, and she was going to need all the help she could get. Asking anybody else to commit treason would have seemed ludicrous, but Kenpachi was well known for caring about the rules in the same way normal people cared about, say, ants or birds: they were there, but they were also entirely irrelevant. If she could offer him a chance at a good fight, then maybe...
She got as far as the officer's barracks, having earned a few odd looks, sneers or even leering, before she was stopped. Eleventh was a disorganized mess, everyone knew that, but few dared to stand up to a vice-captain, even a small, timid-looking one.
Madarame Ikkaku, of course, wasn't like most people. With Ayasegawa Yumichika in tow, he blocked her way, standing leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, staring down at her fiercely. It was a good stare, the kind that would have greenhorns soiling their breeches, and probably most lower-ranked seats too, but Momo had gone through too much the last couple of days to let herself be intimidated. Mustering her perkiest, most determined face, she stared right back at him.
When it became obvious she wasn't going to bend just from a tough-guy glare, Ikkaku said at last, "You ain't in the right place, Hinamori. Fifth sissies stay where they belong. Behind a desk, yeah?"
Inwardly, Momo sighed. The macho act could be really tiresome. "I am here to see your captain," she said determinedly.
"Get a load of this one, Yumichika," Ikkaku said, with a sneer no doubt practiced to perfection. "She wants a piece of the big man. You think that's wise?"
"Vice-captain, I really don't think that's advisable," Yumichika said, his speech contrasting Ikkaku's as usual. "The captain just recently got back from the hospital, and he's in a really good mood."
"Shouldn't that be a good thing?" said Momo.
Yumichika rolled his eyes. "A good mood, for the captain, means he beats the snot out of people 'til he's worked it out of his system. We're avoiding him right now. You should do the same, for your own good."
"I can't do that," said Momo.
Ikkaku snorted. "Beat it, short stack. Unless you can give him a fight, and you can't, you got no business with him."
"I can tell him where he can find Erza Scarlet."
The words had an immediate effect on the two, wiping their dismissive looks right off their faces. Ikkaku dropped his posture, letting his arms fall down to his sides.
"You better not be fucking with us," he said firmly, giving her an intense look. He sounded serious now.
"I'm not," she said, shaking her head. "I can point him in her direction."
"Why would you do that?" Yumichika said. "Aren't you two friends?"
"I'll tell your captain," Momo said sapiently.
"Alright..." Ikkaku said, and shrugged. "Your funeral, I guess. Go through this here barracks to the backyard. He's pacing, and he's pretty antsy, too."
"Thank you," Momo said, and shot him a smile as she walked past.
She found Kenpachi, just as described, pacing back and forth in the backyard. There was a tree in the middle, although it had been badly abused, most of its branches and part of its trunk lopped off in uneven, ungraceful cuts. The captain took a while to notice her, and Momo had to clear her throat before he turned his head her way. He was an odd sight, a grin plastered on his face, but at the same time looking uneasy, like an addict needing a fix.
"The fuck are you doing here?" he said unceremoniously. His sword was in his hand, Momo noticed, and it looked very long and very sharp.
"It looks like you're a bit on edge, sir," Momo began cautiously, "so I came here thinking I could perhaps-"
"Cut the shit and tell me what you're here for. Only reason I haven't gutted you is you look too pathetic to kill," Kenpachi said plainly.
"Okay!" Momo said quickly. "Look, I've got an offer. Something you'll like."
"If it ain't a fight, then fuck off."
"How about Erza Scarlet?"
Immediately he walked over to Momo, almost charging at her, and it was odd just how quickly somebody that big could move when he meant to. He grabbed her by the collar, lifting her off her feet.
"I swear to everything I hold dear, if you're fucking with me, I'll turn ya into a shish kebab." She could see the whites of his eyes now, and didn't doubt his word for a second.
"I know where she is!" Momo squealed. "Or rather, I know where she will be in a couple of days!"
"...Go on," Kenpachi said, still holding on to Momo's collar.
"I'll tell you, if you promise to do something for me," Momo said boldly.
"I could just squeeze the life outta ya here an' now, how's that?" Kenpachi growled.
"Then you'd never find out what I know!" Momo said, not quite believing her own gall.
He stared her in the eye, then let out something like a growl before setting her down, all but shoving her to the ground.
"Talk," he said bluntly.
"I need you to raise some chaos, that's all. Nothing complicated, just you doing what you do best."
"...Keep talkin'."
"On the day of Rukia's execution. I need you to help out. If you do that, I'll tell you where she will be."
He seemed to consider it for a moment, before speaking up. "Deal."
"She'll be at the hill, trying to save Rukia," said Momo, hoping this wouldn't backfire. "If you help us pull that off, if we get her safe, then I'll tell Erza you were of great help to us. Maybe she'll agree to a rematch."
"The hill. Kuchiki girl's execution. Gotcha," Kenpachi said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Don'tcha worry, girl, you'll get your chaos. Consider that a deal. Hell, I'm feelin' charitable- I'll throw in some mayhem, too. Like you said, 's what I do best."
Momo nodded tamely, hoping she hadn't made a mistake. On the one hand, Kenpachi was a recipe for disaster; on the other, the odds were against them and drastic times called for drastic measures. Only time would tell- she just hoped she wouldn't have to regret this.
Beads of sweat trailed down Tatsuki's face as she ran through another set with her staff, dead set on perfecting her form, or coming as close to it as possible in the time they had. Everything had been worked out, they had been told by Nozomi. Erza and the others were safe, except Ishida and Sado, and they would make a move when Rukia was about to be executed. This left them with a couple of days with nothing to do.
Sitting around twiddling their thumbs had gotten old after the two first minutes. Tatsuki had suggested they spend their time training, and Orihime had, after a little convincing, followed suit.
It was with a latent, slow-burning anger that Tatsuki had gotten to work, and she had had to force herself to remember not to overexert herself. Too much of a noise could still draw attention, and although the safe-house was comparatively remote, they were still in hostile territory.
Anger. Anger at knowing that they had failed to achieve anything of importance. Anger at knowing that while she and Orihime had been stuck fighting chaff, Ichigo had made it to Rukia and fought a captain to a standstill. Anger at feeling like she had contributed nothing of worth to this mission. Anger at feeling like she didn't matter. Orihime at least provided healing and a unique skill set, but Tatsuki? What about her?
Well, I'm not the one who got captured, at least, she thought, and immediately felt guilty. Spite toward her comrades-in-arms, her friends, that was petty and unkind. Letting out a shout, she thrust her staff, spearing an imaginary enemy through the gut.
What were they even doing? They had gone into this... afterlife, and they had been entirely unprepared. When it had all been decided, as a group, their morale had been high, and Tatsuki had on some level assumed that everything would be fine. She had thought so not because it made sense, but because even with all that they had seen, the idea that they might actually die- or worse- hadn't sunk in. But now, it had. A bit of gumption and fighting spirit wasn't going to cut it. This whole place was filled with strong people who didn't give a damn just how much you wanted to win; they'd kill you all the same. Even if they wanted to quit, they couldn't. They were all stuck here, forced to see it to the end, like sailors marooned on a lonely island filled with man-eating tigers.
There was a rumble, the sound of rock crumbling, and Tatsuki interrupted herself to watch Orihime. She had come into her own, in a way. It seemed that the more she used her power, the more it would grow. A block of concrete lying by a partially crumbled wall had been knocked over, and it was crumbling rapidly.
"You sure hit that thing hard, huh?" Tatsuki said tiredly, both impressed and a little jealous.
"Nope, not at all," Orihime said with a smile. "I just sort of... wanted it to break down, and it did. Watch this."
A bubble of orange light extended, settling around the ruined concrete, which had shattered into a thousand pieces. Slowly, the pieces lifted a foot or so into the air, and swiftly joined together like pieces of a puzzle. Within seconds, the block had taken form again, a perfect cube looking as if it were new again.
But it didn't stop there. Flowing freely as if it were liquid in a gravity-free vacuum, the concrete morphed seamlessly, taking on a new shape. In less than a minute, it had taken on the form of a crude bunny statuette, a bit cartoonish but oddly cute.
"I was thinking of Rukia," Orihime said. "She loves bunnies. I should make her one when we get her out."
"What did you even do?" Tatsuki said, any jealousy replaced by genuine curiosity.
"Oh, these thingamabobs, you know," Orihime said and shrugged, like it was obvious. "I've been experimenting a bit with the things I can do, and it's like... I thought before that I was just healing people, but actually... I can break things down and put them together again. Except, any way I want. Sort of. To a limit." She smiled.
"That's amazing."
"You think?" Orihime said cheerily. "I mean, I'm just barely figuring out how it works. It's kinda cool though, right? It's like I have my very own Stand, or something?" She made a few dramatic, although wildly ineffective punches into the air, striking a pose.
"...I think we're way past Stands, or whatever," Tatsuki murmured. "It's like we wandered into some crazy fantasy novel."
"Do you think we'll get our own Legolas, then?"
"Let's just keep training, yeah?" Tatsuki said. "Rukia will need us at our best."
"Mm-hmm!" Orihime said, an unusual look of determination and focus on her face. "I'll keep on developing these powers, and we'll all totally save Rukia together. I'll be like Doctor Strange, battling the evils of Mads Mikkelsen, because he was developing a death star, and-"
"Orihime. Training," Tatsuki said gently.
"Right," Orihime said. Taking a deep breath, she let the glow return to the block of concrete, and again it started to change. Tatsuki shook her head, a little in awe. She had a lot of catching up to do. Grabbing her staff tightly in both hands, she launched into another set.
It was evening. In the morning, Rukia would be marched from her cell and to Sokyoku Hill for her execution, and all that she was would cease to be, the spiritual cell clusters that made her being burnt away, her energy returned to the Soul Society itself. The thought stayed with Ichigo constantly, at the back of his head, as he battled his stubborn, hostile sword-spirit. It was to succeed or to accept the unacceptable, think the unthinkable, to taste bitter defeat and live with knowing that she had died without him being able to stop it.
The battle had been constant, unending, only ever stopping for them to exchange a few words before going right back at it, and it had taken him strange places. He had never been so thoroughly exhausted, but at the same time he was strangely unrelenting, as if sheer will had pushed him past his limits. Every swing felt heavy in his arms, like it would be his last, yet he raised his blade again and again without hesitation. Suddenly, everything his aunt had told him about overcoming his own body, which at the time had sounded like abstract 'wise warrior' mumbo-jumbo, felt very real. He felt it in his body with every swing, with every step, an awareness of everything his body did, stubbornly going on long after he should have given up.
He had done this before, he realized, in the fights that had been particularly challenging, but then it had been instinctual, beyond his understanding. Now, fighting Zangetsu at the very edge of what he was capable of, he was starting to see it clearly. His body was a tool for his mind to use. His body had placed restraints and restrictions on him, because most people needed that for survival, but if he could see past that and harness it... then he could do anything. Or, a whole lot more, at least.
Was this how every warrior felt? When had his aunt first realized this? How long would it take to master himself?
He asked himself these questions with a clear mind, as his body followed combat form smoothly, without having to think.
"You are at your limit, Ichigo," said Zangetsu, staring him in the eye with as furious a glare as ever. "Surrender, or you might die. If your reiatsu expires, you will die."
"I am willing to risk it," Ichigo said firmly. He kept his calm, partly because he was well past any strong emotion, in awe of this heightened state of awareness as he was, and partly because he lacked the energy to muster a passionate response. His sole focus was the fight, blade clashing against blade.
The test had taken them across the length of the cave and back, several times. The thousand blades had diminished quickly, and with each one, Ichigo had lasted a little longer. Right now, they were down to the last one, and he knew it was now or never. He was on his last leg, running out of time.
But at the same time, he felt it. He could feel Zangetsu. He felt his anger, his wounded pride, pulsating like the trauma of a stabbing injury. He felt his concern, his desire for Ichigo to succeed, all wrapped up in a bundle of emotion at once too complex and too obvious to be put into words. At the same time, he knew Zangetsu felt everything he, himself, felt- every last bit of determination, self-doubt, concern for Rukia, fear for his friends, his love and his camaraderie and his anger. How Ichigo knew it, he couldn't be sure- but on an instinctual level, it was unquestionably true. The world seemed to slow down as their blades clashed again, both swords pressing against each other for a moment before Zangetsu pushed him back, trying to unbalance his would-be master. Ichigo played along, pretending to stumble, before neatly avoiding the following attack, using the opportunity to counter-attack. Zangetsu was entirely prepared, side-stepping the attack, and the both of them took a step back.
In the time they had fought, they had both gotten to know each other well, learning each other's style, strengths and weaknesses, and right now, neither had scored a hit on the other for almost half a day. Ichigo had come far, but drawing even wouldn't be enough.
"You're a hell of a fighter, old man," Ichigo said, a cocky smile creeping onto his face despite his tiredness.
"You have come a long way, Ichigo," Zangetsu said, giving him a nod, "but it is not enough to tame me."
"I'll do it if it's the last thing I do," Ichigo said firmly.
"Then consider your blade."
"Huh?"
"This is no vague lesson on wisdom, Ichigo. Look at it."
Ichigo stole a quick glance at the blade he was holding. There was a crack running through its base, almost halfway through, and it was obvious it would not last much longer. Ichigo's shoulders dropped, and he sighed.
"Damn."
"You must defeat me soon, Ichigo, or the challenge will have failed. If the blade breaks before you can defeat me... then you must reap the consequences."
"So, there's a timer. Nothing I didn't already know," Ichigo said, trying to sound confident. He wasn't losing hope just yet, but... this was something of an eye-opener. He took a deep breath. "Come at me, old man."
"Your courage does you credit. Your insolence still does not." Zangetsu swung his sword out to the side, assuming a stance. "As you wish, then."
Ichigo knew how it went. Zangetsu would rapidly close the distance, in five paces at most, and he would most likely come in either with a sideways slash or a downward cut, to be followed by a set of quick strikes to throw him off balance. From there, he would try to disarm Ichigo, or stab him in the chest.
Think. Think. There had to be some weakness to that style, some solution he hadn't yet considered. No one style was flawless. No one style was without weakness or a counter. The answer was there somewhere. He just had to figure it out...
There was that downwards cut, and Ichigo immediately responded by trying to use Zangetsu's momentum against him, force his blade down, but the spirit was much too prepared to fall for it and pushed Ichigo's blade aside. Ichigo brought it back up just in time to block a strike to his neck, and patiently he defended against a series of attacks, waiting for an opening he knew would come. As Zangetsu thrust forward in a powerful stab, Ichigo side-stepped the sword, slamming the pommel of his own blade into the spirit's chest. Zangetsu minimized the impact by stepping back, but Ichigo pushed forward, taking charge of the battle's momentum.
Even so, even having broken his offense, they were now stuck in a stalemate of offense and defense, and that was not a winning situation. Eventually his last sword would break, and then Zangetsu would win. Deciding to start over, he jumped back, putting a few yards between himself and his zanpakutou.
"You are becoming desperate, Ichigo."
"When wasn't this desperate?" Ichigo shot back, a mad little smile on his face. The creeping realization was setting in: You are going to lose. You are going to fail. You are going to die.
Well, regular form wasn't working. When you were desperate... well, you had to try something, right? He took a deep breath, and held the sword up high over his head, one hand deep down on its grip, and his dominant hand as close to the blade as the guard would allow. Zangetsu scowled.
"That form is weak and poorly practiced, and full of holes."
"Yeah, but that means you didn't practice it either. Seems like it's worth a shot."
Zangetsu shook his head. "You are weak, Ichigo. You do not deserve this power."
"Is this sword broken?" Ichigo said stubbornly. "Because it doesn't look broken to me. I'm not beaten yet. Come at me."
Zangetsu snarled, and charged forward. Anticipating the spirit's movement, Ichigo took a deep breath. Time seemed to slow down. He would come in, try to side-step his attack, and hit him with a sideways slash. But there was an opening...
The sword came down. An instant later, Zangetsu stood behind Ichigo, having sailed past him.
"Fool child," he said.
"Damn it..." Ichigo said. The sword broke in two, leaving a short stump of a blade left, jagged and broken and barely a foot in length. Zangetsu hadn't aimed for his chest, or his legs, or his head. He had hit the blade itself, just where it was weak. It had broken.
"You have lost," Zangetsu said, and there was a finality to his words. "Make ready to face the consequences."
Ichigo's shoulders sunk. After all this time, after three days of fighting, after learning all he had learned... had he really come this far to lose it all, for none of it to matter in the end?
No.
"I have not lost!" he snarled, pointing his broken blade at Zangetsu.
"Your sword is broken. Your weapon cannot be used anymore. Give it up."
"I still have a weapon," Ichigo said stubbornly. "Sure, it's a bit broken. Am I supposed to lie down and cry every time my sword gets nicked?"
"You cannot be serious."
"I am not beaten," Ichigo snarled angrily, "because as long as I'm standing, as long as I can move my arms, then I can fight. I am not beaten, because my will is stronger than my sword. I am not beaten, because I refuse to give up until I've given all I have. Do you hear me?!"
Zangetsu held out his sword. "If I come at you again, I will not hesitate to strike you down. We are as one, you and I, but I will not hesitate to kill. Are you prepared? Is she worth dying for?"
"Yes," Ichigo said solemnly, staring intensely at Zangetsu. "For friends and for family, I'll risk that. For my mother, for my father, for my sisters, for Orihime and for Tatsuki and for Aunt Erza- and for Rukia, too. They're worth it. Now, shut up and come at me!"
Zangetsu said nothing, but gave him a thoughtful stare. Then, a second later he charged, sword held low and at the ready.
Ichigo would remember the following moments to his dying day, clear as daylight. Zangetsu charging at him, every movement so clear and visible, as if happening in slowed-down video, murder in his eyes. Even though it happened in mere seconds, it felt like an eternity, and none of it would ever leave him.
As Zangetsu came in, his blade aimed at Ichigo's legs, Ichigo jumped over the slash and brought his broken sword up to guard against the next attack, a wide slash. Then, as his feet hit the ground, he let out a fierce battle-cry, and pushed forward, slamming his forehead into Zangetsu's, head-butting him with the strength of a madman. Having let go of thought, of rational approach, he locked his broken blade with Zangetsu's, and pushed inside the zanpakutou's guard, viciously slamming his fist into the spirit's face, chest, neck, raining down one blow after another. The spirit snarled and tried to step back, but Ichigo grabbed him by the hair and head-butted him again, and again, and again. Pain seared through his skull, white-hot, but he ignored it completely. The spirit stumbled, losing balance, and the one moment was all Ichigo needed. Violently, he took his broken stump of a sword and slammed it into Zangetsu's chest. The point, blunted and weak, barely penetrated, but Ichigo roared out again and stabbed it in, again and again, having lost all sense and restraint. Zangetsu recovered and tried to twist free, slapping away the hand holding his hair. But, Ichigo wasn't about to let him go, and dropped his broken blade and quickly grabbed Zangetsu's sword arm, twisting and grappling. If he got free, if he pulled back, Ichigo would be disarmed against somebody with a sword. It was now or never, all or nothing. Furiously, he wrestled with Zangetsu, the spirit holding onto his blade for dear life.
Ichigo took hold of the spirit's wrist with both hands and pushed his back into Zangetsu's chest. Positioning his legs just right, he pulled, and suddenly Zangetsu lost his footing and was flipped over forward on his back, landing hard on the ground. Still holding onto the spirit's wrist, Ichigo brought his foot down onto Zangetsu's shoulder, and twisted. Shocked by the impact, and further strained by Ichigo's twists, his grip loosened. Finally, Ichigo grabbed hold of his sword.
With a loud, resounding grunt, Ichigo kicked the spirit, putting Zangetsu on his back, and in one swift motion plunged the blade fully into his chest. It sank halfway in, pinning the spirit to the ground.
Ichigo stood like so for a good half-minute, huffing and breathing deeply, his vision more than a little hazy. He couldn't quite believe he had just done that.
"It's... over... old man," he managed at last.
"So it is, Ichigo," Zangetsu said softly. "What will you do now?"
"I claim your power, Zangetsu. I claim your bankai, for me to use for both of us, fairly and justly!"
"So be it," the spirit grunted. There was no blood, Ichigo noticed; zanpakutou didn't seem to function much like humans.
"What... is its name?"
"You already know it," said Zangetsu. With that, the spirit faded away as if he had never been there. Ichigo looked down on the sword he held. It wasn't the long, clumsy, heavy blade of his shikai anymore. It was a longsword, sturdy and strong, but much sleeker and longer, looking like a most magnificent katana, the sword of a lord- or a shogun, even. It was entirely black, hilt, blade and guard, and the guard itself came in the shape of a manji. A length of chain extended from the end of the hilt.
As he stood up, he noticed something else had changed. He was no longer wearing the sweaty, dirty, worn shihakusho he had come here in. In its place was a long, black coat, fitting closely over his body, its ends frilly and torn like Zangetsu's own coat.
"Tensa Zangetsu." Ichigo murmured. At long last. After all this, he had finally gone all the way.
He stood there breathing deeply, as if each breath might be his last, staring in awe at his sword, drinking in the new sensations. It was absolutely enchanting, a one-of-a-kind experience, one he knew he would never feel again. He felt like the world was his to grasp, like there was nothing he could not do.
"Ichigo."
The voice was not sharp, but nevertheless snapped him out of his reveries. It was Erza, and part of him resented her for intruding at a time like this. But, he knew this was no time for pettiness- and she was his sensei, after all, his master in the way of the shinigami.
"Aunt," he mumbled, nodding tiredly at her. "Sensei. I did it."
Erza nodded back at him, looking quite serious. "Yes, you did. It's nothing short of extraordinary, and I wouldn't believe it if I weren't looking at it right now. Tell me, Ichigo, how do you feel?"
The question caught him a little off-guard, and there was a pause before he answered.
"Sensei, I... I feel... different. Awake. Aware of myself like never before. Like I was asleep this whole time."
"Go on."
"My body... I am exhausted, but I feel like I could go on for days. I know I could. Before we left, this kind of thing... I don't think I'd have lasted half this long. Now, I feel it. I feel my energy, my reiatsu, this huge pool of energy that is mine to use. I feel incredible."
"You have learned well," Erza said approvingly. "Your potential, yours and everyone else's, is limited by two things: the mental restrictions you unconsciously place on yourself, and the actual physical restrictions your body puts on you. You have broken the first, Ichigo, and so your full potential is within your grasp. This is as important a lesson as learning bankai. It is true for humans, but even more so for shinigami. I had to learn it twice, and both times it took me years to fully realize. You have learned it in less than four months. You will go far if you live long enough."
Ichigo simply nodded, still feeling a little overwhelmed.
"Mark my words, the power you now possess is something many shinigami spend a lifetime trying and failing to achieve. This is tremendous power. Use it wisely. I have seen many skilled shinigami go to an early grave because they were too prideful, too confident, or too careless. Let this power humble you, not overwhelm you."
"Yes, sensei," Ichigo said firmly. There was something magical about this moment, something dignified and spectacular. Her words resonated with him, their meaning taken in fully down to the last syllable.
"Now," Erza said, a little less grimly, "show me what it can do."
"Huh? Um, sure. I..." He hesitated, and a little embarrassedly, he said, "I... don't actually know yet."
"Then, we shall find out," Erza said, and drew her own sword.
"You gotta be kidding me..." Ichigo said, sounding a little exasperated.
"One bankai for another. You have earned the right to see mine," Erza said, and held the blade out. "Bankai: Tetsuken Yoseitama!"
There was a discharge of power, dust blowing about, and almost instantly Erza changed. Around her body, a suit of armour manifested, grey and polished steel, full plate such as that of a European knight.
"It protects you, huh?" Ichigo muttered.
"Far more," Erza said confidently. "It is one of many suits of mail I use, each one with a different purpose and a different strength. This basic plate will suffice for now. Now, come at me like I were your enemy. Come at me like I were Kuchiki Byakuya."
Ichigo took a deep breath and assumed a stance, holding his sword out before him. Looking at his aunt, his sensei, time seemed to slow down. He took a step forward, charged...
There was the brief, odd sensation of blade clashing against blade, and in the same moment Ichigo found himself slamming into a cave wall. The shock of the impact left him dizzy, and with very little dignity, he collapsed on the ground. He shook his head so as to clear it, got up to his feet, and realized that he could barely see Erza- he was at the far end of the cave. How had he gotten there, in just two or three steps?
He jumped forward, toward his aunt, only to find that he overshot her by a good fifty yards. Moving carefully, he walked back toward her.
"What... the hell is this thing?" he muttered, once she was close enough to hear.
"Speed," she said confidently. "Ludicrous, insane speed, quite likely combined with focused cutting power, judging by the shape of your weapon. It's not a bad ability."
"Great. Now I have to learn that, too?"
"Try again," she said supportively. "Zanpakutou and shinigami are as one. If you have bonded well enough to achieve bankai, using its abilities at a basic level should come naturally. Take it easy, and use what you've got. Again."
Ichigo sighed, and more carefully, he jumped forward, not really aiming for Erza this time, just trying to control it. Like a child who had just learned to ride a bicycle, he awkwardly fumbled about, jumping back and forth across the cave at breakneck speed. But, as he dashed back and forth, across the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling, it all started to make sense. Slowly, he began to understand, and within a couple of minutes, it was as simple as breathing. The world moved in slow motion; he was faster than anything else, nothing could catch him...
"Good," Erza said, her voice sounding weird to Ichigo, slowed down and deeper-pitched. He slowed down to listen. "Now, come at me."
Ichigo nodded, and instantly charged, a moment later right upon Erza. She brought her blade up to counter, but he saw through it so easily, and his blade snuck under her guard, clanging against the chest plate. Grinning, he felt exhilarated, filled with power, and attacked again. In a second, he had attacked a dozen times, his aunt hard pressed to even parry. There was a flurry of blows, Ichigo relentlessly attacking. This power! This ludicrous, insane, amazing power! Even his aunt, who had seemed so unassailable, so titanic and unbeatable, even in bankai she couldn't catch him. He was invinc-
Suddenly his face planted into the cave floor, hard, and as he coughed and got to his knees, a murderous headache interrupting his flow, he realized that she had parried an attack and then, with what had to be ridiculous timing, punched him in the face before he had left for another attack.
"Good," Erza said, sounding a bit too satisfied for Ichigo's liking. "Very strong. Very fast. Still needs a lot of work."
"Wonderful," Ichigo said sullenly, standing up again. Erza frowned.
"Achieving bankai, however remarkable, is only the first step. You may have side-stepped the twenty-year process of achieving it naturally, but that doesn't mean mastering it will be any easier. I took the long way around. I am still learning my own bankai. You are, in this regard, still a child. I told you: be humble before your power."
"...Yes, sensei," Ichigo said with a sigh.
"It is powerful," Erza said reassuringly, "but it is unrefined. Do not overestimate yourself. It is fast, yes, but because I was skilled enough, I was able to predict a pattern in your movement and counter-attack. Expect no less from the likes of Kuchiki Byakuya. Speed is good, but it is but one tool at your disposal."
"Is it too weak?"
"Not at all," Erza said, shaking her head, "but you are dealing with people more experienced than yourself. Not to mention that some bankai are stronger than others- or that some are poorly matched to handle others, yet better matched against others still."
"All this training, and it's still a lottery, huh?"
"Ichigo..."
Ichigo grinned. "I'm not going to complain, sensei. I did it. Together, we can save Rukia now. I just know it."
Erza nodded, and smiled. "We will. Now, go bathe in the spring, recover, and get a good night's sleep. In the morning... it all goes down."
Ichigo nodded. Destiny was just around the corner. At least this time, he felt equipped to handle it.
The sun was rising on what would be Kuchiki Byakuya's last day in the Soul Society. The previous night, he had opted to sleep in his own room. It seemed only right: a last show of respect, however small, toward the Kuchiki household. Now, he sat cross-legged in his night shirt by the window, opened to take in the cool morning air, as he meditated one last time, reflecting on his life so far.
There was an unusual calm, quiet and peace- at least, compared to how he had felt these last few days- as his mind wandered. He had finally accepted it, his fate and Rukia's. She would die, and then so would he.
It reminded him of the days of old, nearly forgotten. When Byakuya had been a small child, too old to hang around his mother's kimono but far too young to be informed of clan matters, he had been given a tutor. The man had been patient, the best money could buy, but young Byakuya had been energetic and unruly. Often he had earned a beating for it. There had been a ritual to it. When his tutor decided he needed to be disciplined, he would make Byakuya go fetch a stick himself. Sometimes, he had to get another one, longer or thicker. Then, when the stick had found its way to his teacher's hand, the man would rap it against his own palm three times to test it, to make sure he had the right strength to make each hit sting appropriately. The young boy he had been would watch each strike, slow and deliberate, terror in his eyes.
The pain had been bad, but not nearly as bad as the anticipation, the fear of what he knew would come. Afterwards, even with his back red and aching from the beating, there would be a sense of relief.
Now, on his last day on Earth, Byakuya felt something similar. The thing he dreaded would happen, unquestionably and inexorably, and he had finally made his peace with it. After it was done, he would be disciplined one last time, and then... it would all be over. He would finally know peace again.
Quietly, he rose, changed out of his night shirt, and began putting on his shihakusho. The ritual of dressing himself brought stillness to his mind; the simple act of putting an arm through a sleeve, a leg through his hakama, putting on his haori and wrapping his scarf around his neck, and finally meticulously arranging the kenseikan in his hair...
One last time. He looked into a mirror, tall as himself and set next to the door, getting a good look at himself. He stood tall and proud, appropriate and dignified, looking right and finally feeling right. He was The Right and Honourable Kuchiki Byakuya, Lord of the Clan, Protector of the Gotei Thirteen, Captain of Sixth Division, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt like it.
Today, Rukia would die. Today, his heart would ache like it hadn't since Hisana's death. Today, he would go into history as a man of honour, a man who put his integrity first. The Kuchiki would go on, the Gotei would go on, and he would not. Today he would end, and he was at peace with it.
A small, barely noticeable smile passed his face briefly as he opened the door to his room, fully dressed in body and mind to face his last day.
This is it folks, we finally finished the build up for the final day of the soul society arc. You can all expect it to be action packed, filled with action from amazing battles, changes to the original cannon, and more!
I've planned on Momo being the one to get Kenpachi's help from the beginning. Even though she isnt part of the main group trying to help out Erza, Momo has found herself a powerful ally.
I also decided to show HOW Ichigo got his bankai, since we never saw it in cannon, and a little sparing match. The later was done because I figured Erza would want to know if the training was worth it, as well as seeing if it had any major weaknesses. It makes sense to check that sort of thing after all.
Oh and dont worry, I still have Plans for Rangiku to find out more about Isshin. I just figured she and Masaki could bond over it.
Not much else to say this time, because most of what I really want to talk about is in the NEXT chapter. I think you'll all love it, just like you hopefully loved this one. I cant wait to hear feedback on this chapter! We're so close to 900 reviews, I KNOW that we can do it by the end of the arc.
Anyways, thanks for reading!