Ichigo Kurosaki
I'm being a good nice little prisoner, sitting in my nice little cell. I don't really want to, but I don't have much choice; the place is clearly impregnable to anything that I can try (which isn't much, since my zanpakuto was taken from me anyway), so all I could do is scream, cry, bang my head against the bars or claw the walls until my fingernails come off, and none of that sounds like a good way of spending my last day of existence. Not that the alternatives are much better, just less physically painful.
I can't believe we deluded ourselves thinking that Captain Snooty McAsshole would guarantee my life just because we used a spell that kills his sister if I die. Of course he would just send his sister to death if it meant he could kill me too. The man looks like he's got a code of law for a heart.
This place as a whole is weirder than I imagined it to be. It does have an old Edo Japan feel, but it's hardly an identical recreation, even compared to certain movies and anime that aren't exactly historically accurate. The most jarring difference is this white, smooth stone that's everywhere, including in the walls of my cell. It's hard, cool to the touch, pretty much impossible to scratch, and has a strange opalescent look when hit directly by light. I did try damaging it at first, but it was soon obvious how pointless that was, at least without a proper weapon or tool. I'm assuming this is some kind of weird spirit material, because I've never seen the like of it in real life. It's the only real example of that, every other item seems made of pretty recognisable stuff like iron, wood or cotton.
They brought me a meal earlier, it's a bowl of rice and a couple skinny fishes seemingly roasted on a fire. It's still sitting on the floor in a corner, now disgustingly cold. I'm huddled in a different corner, head between my knee, smouldering and brooding and shit. The thing that gets me, that really gets me, is that even when I die, this is not going to be over. Not by a long shot. They'll still want to come for my sisters and Orihime, and my dad will be pissed at them all, and possibly pissed at sandal-and-hat too, and there will be blood. And I've got an inkling whose blood. If only at least me dying could put an end to all of this, I could just feel like I'm going to the gallows a martyr. Hardly a life goal I've ever had, frankly, but still better than just feeling like a fucking chump who's only the first victim in a long string.
Anyway, I'm there, immersed in my cheerful musings, when the worst possible person shows up. I mean, not the literal worst perhaps, but right up there in the top five.
The Shinigami girl. Rukia Kuchiki.
The guard that accompanied her salutes with a small bow, then leaves. Alone, she turns to me, and for a long while she just stays there, staring, without speaking. I don't even bother getting up from my corner, just shift my legs a bit to a sitting position so I can look at her properly. If she keeps silent, I certainly won't be the first one to start chatting. Whatever led her here, she can at least muster the courage to say on her own.
"Hello, Kurosaki Ichigo," she finally manages. Must have taken a lot of thought.
"Hi, Kuchiki. They let you just walk around like that?"
"I'm not a prisoner," she says, piqued. Gotta establish the pecking order as usual, I guess. "I am free to move. There is nowhere I could go, anyway. This is where I wish to be."
"Figures. It's surely not where I wish to be, but I guess that's what the cell is for."
She's fidgeting and evasive, even with her usual pride, I can tell. This thing has her shaken, after all. She's still a human soul.
"You scared?"
Her initial reaction is an instinctive burst of outrage - her face seems to prepare to shout back something indignant. But then it stops, it relaxes, it softens. Her eyes look away, she takes on a much humbler demeanour. She nods.
"Good," I spit back.
She reels, then her face flushes and she pushes back. "You despicable boor. I knew I shouldn't have expected any better from you."
"I'm a death row inmate. We're not famous for our manners."
"It's where you belong! Perhaps I should be glad that even though I will die, at least the world shall be rid of you!"
"You're one to talk. You dragged me into this! You killed me once, and now I'm about to die a second time because of you - had you stayed out of my life, nothing of this would have happened!"
"Had I stayed out of your life, you would have been an Hollow now! You had your chance to go peacefully the way of any other human, but you had to be special, to cling on! No one else gets that! Just because your father was-"
"IT WAS MY LIFE! YOU BET YOUR ASS I'M GOING TO FIGHT TOOTH AND NAIL FOR IT!"
She's right that this is partially a fate of my own making, but I'm not backing down an inch, I just can't. Even if I played the game and lost, they are the ones who made the rules and imposed them on me. I never asked for gods of death, for reaping or salvation. I didn't give them the right to dispose of me, and neither did anyone else who lives, waiting to be harvested by these jerks.
After my outburst, her anger calms down, but not because she's understanding or anything now - instead, she looks at me icily, with superiority and spite. "How undignified. Even with a zanpakuto, you are just a human after all. Unable to pursue a higher purpose, or face death with dignity."
Now, that's really too much. "You don't know jack shit about death. You've gone through it once, and have forgotten all of it. I'm human all right. You know what, my dad must have seen through all your bullshit, and that's why he became a doctor. We'll use every single trick up our sleeve to live just a bit longer, and if the company of your likes is what awaits afterwards, we're damn right to do that too! Dignified? What's dignified about going to die like a lamb to the slaughter? Is that how you're coping with the fact that your brother doesn't give a fuck about your life, Rukia Kuchiki?"
The sting hits all right. It hurts her, right at her heart, right where I wanted to send it, cutting way more than a sword could. You can see it in how her facade suddenly breaks and her face falls. She turns her head away to hide it - hide the tears, perhaps.
"So what about you? Is this whole fighting idea, this bravado, how you're coping, instead? How you humans cope?"
Is it? Kinda, I guess. Not only. Some will believe in an afterlife (and be wrong about the how, not the what, it seems), others will call death 'sleep' or 'rest' to make it sound nicer. Many just try their hardest to never think about it too hard. But in the end? When the chips are down?
"Is this why you came here? You want to know our secret, hoping it will make you feel a bit better? How do we cope?"
She says nothing, but I think I see her imperceptibly nod. I slump back with my head among my knees. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Tomorrow I'm going to die.
Fuck.
"We don't."
Rukia Kuchiki
I walk into the Room of the Crimson Tatami clad in a pure white kimono, with my brother at my side. There is a ritual to these things, and even if the ending will be somewhat different this time, the forms have to be kept. In this room, generations of Kuchikis have had at least one member breath their last, choosing a dignified end to living in ignominy and shaming the clan. I have learned that humans believe in ghosts, and have always thought that may be the result of some awareness of the spiritual world filtering down to them through the occasional medium. Yet even if I know that this is the end point, there is no further existence beyond this one, only the dispersion of spirit particles as the soul breaks down, just being in this room makes me feel what it means for something to be haunted. As if there still was a leftover of all that death, lingering about, and waiting to grasp me in its claws. In this case, it is not entirely wrong.
A night has passed, and then a morning. I expected them to be more eventful, in a way, I considered whether I could make them so, but they ended up being ridiculously mundane. Stress, fear and shame exhausted me yesterday evening, and I simply ended up falling unconscious on my bed for a short and dreamless sleep. This morning I washed, I ate breakfast, I clothed myself. Just a regular day, preparing myself to die.
"Sit down, Rukia."
My brother's voice is gentle, but not kind. He guides me to my place of execution, a refined silk pillow I can kneel on. He helps me untie my zanpakuto from my sash; I put it in front of me, unsheathed, the scabbard on the floor, the blade laid on a clean white sheet. It gleams in the light of the lanterns. Then he sits in front of me, and unsheathes his own sword like me, putting it on his lap, still held in one hand.
"It won't be necessary to help me," I say. That would only have purpose if I had to go the usual, ugly way. The one that's so painful and horrible it's only good to prove your courage, and best ended by a swift decapitation.
"I am aware. This is for the sake of the forms," he says. Then he has an imperceptible shift in his expression. "How do you feel?"
In many ways that I can't talk about, that would shame me to, and would only deepen his suffering.
I answer nothing.
"The humans," I ask instead. "Ichigo's relatives. What will happen to them?"
My brother nods. "Nothing has changed. The orders of the Council still stand, and will be eventually carried out."
"But what about Isshin? Brother, I would not want you to-"
"Worry not. Isshin has made a mistake, and he will not pose any danger soon. He must have gotten wind of Ichigo's execution, and apparently, he and Yoruichi have just invaded Soul Society in a futile rescue attempt."
That's unexpected news. I should be happy, then. At least I will not die in vain. It will all end soon; Isshin will be captured and killed, and then a second group can go back to the human world to finish the job. But all I feel is an emptiness. As if my heart had been carved out, and I'd turned in a Hollow already.
"Brother," I manage to say, "the sisters-"
"There will be no discussion of this. Their destruction has been decreed by the Council. It is necessary to the safety of all. We can't take any risks."
"But why did the Council decide that? I thought we were supposed to care about protecting human souls!"
"Protecting human souls when it does not conflict with even greater purposes, Rukia. Our ultimate goal is always the safety and balance of the spirit world. You still have a lot to learn about the proper demeanour for a Shinigami," he replies, with a sigh. "It is unfortunate that there will be no chance for that."
"It really is, brother."
We sit in silence, in this room of ghosts, while Kurosaki is being dragged to his death, and so am I.
Ichigo Kurosaki
If you asked me years or months ago how did I imagine the instants before my death, walked to a hill with a giant halberd on top of it waiting to cut my head off (I guess: no one's told me how the damn thing works), with an escort of people who look straight out of some cheap Edo era cosplaying event wouldn't have made my list. Though in a way, this is not my death - that was days ago. But it is what I always imagined death ought to really be, even with my ghost sense. The most final of all endings. Loss of the self. Complete oblivion.
The moment when everything suddenly becomes silent.
I need to work through my fear somehow, and to do so, I focus on this crowd of butchers that lead me to the gallows. There's a lot of them, a lot of very important people who showed up for their own reasons that I'm not privy to to the slaughtering of this one little pointless human. There's that old man with more wrinkles than years, a wooden stick, and a long beard that barely hides lips like a caveman's. Everyone's deferential to him, so I guess he's the head honcho around here. He probably ought to be present to this kind of event out of ceremony and responsibility, if nothing else.
There's a meek, nerdy looking Captain. He's got scruffy hair, and glasses hiding peaceful, understanding eyes. You'd think he's that sort of professor who's always a bit too kind, who can be a pushover when it comes to squeezing a better grade or having him forgive a little transgression. Instead he's here, party in murdering me. That's a new punishment for running through the halls, I guess. Accompanying him are a shady guy that makes me think of a fox, with eyes so sly you can barely see their pupils through their half-closed eyelids, and an overly serious black guy wearing a blindfold, who reminds me of those statues of Justice that you see in American courthouses, or at least in their movie representations. Well, Justice shall be served today for sure.
There's a few more Captains I can see. One has a painted face and the eyes of a madman. They dart around all the time, and only sometimes stop on me. When they do, they look at me with a vicious curiosity, and I feel exposed as a fish in an aquarium, or a mouse in a maze. There's a peaceful, handsome one with a beard, a conical straw hat and a flowery kimono, and there's a serious one with long silvery hair who walks next to him. There's a catty, petite girl with a perpetually suspicious scowl, one whom I'd peg down more as a ninja than a samurai. Another woman has a motherly, kindly air to her, and next to her is a boy with white hair and a bored, annoyed expression, like a kid who's been dragged at a tedious family function when all he wants is to go play with his friend. There's a whole retinue of aides and attendants following them.
And as I go through them, I do manage somehow to shed my fear, but not because I forget my impending end. Instead, it's because they remind me of it. They remind me of how they're all causing it, all together, them and this absurd place they defend and represent. See, I've been in fights in my life. I've been royally pissed off more than once; I know the feeling of wanting to just cave one's nose in with punches until it's just a flat bloody pancake, and I'm sure my opponents knew that as well. I've given some and I've taken some, I've won and I've lost. Maybe someone also wanted me dead. I know anger, but have never felt hate; hate requires a fixation on someone beyond the fact that they're just the random fucker that today's trying to break your leg or give you a black eye. You don't hate that sort of mindless bastard any more than you hate a dog that bites you - you just kick him away, and then go mend your wound. But these people - these people aren't angry with me. I haven't caved in their noses, broken their legs or given them black eyes. I couldn't even if I tried. No, these people are all part of the same thing, of a country I'm not citizen of by choice that just decided that I ought not to exist - that I'm too much trouble to account for, not that I'm a sure threat even, just a nuisance to remove from the equation before I upset their ability to repeat the same tedious calculation over and over for all eternity. That's it, that's why they're getting rid of me.
And these people, as I work through them and their diverse and oh-so-human cohorts, these people I grow to fucking hate. They proclaimed themselves as Gods of Death, and to me, that's what they've become, after all. I never expected for there to be any actual Grim Reaper, no skeleton with a black cloak and a scythe harvesting humans on Time's behalf. But they're the closest thing I'll ever get, and that won't earn them my love for sure. Just like the scythe falls for all, see how dispassionately they're leading me; see how that one guy with the flowery garb even gave me what looks like a glance of compassion. Sorry boy, can't help it. That's how funny life is, seems like he's saying. Turns out, death is even funnier. It's a fucking riot.
They string me up, arms open, to some white cubes that rise up from the ground below the stand. The cubes seem to grab my wrists, and I feel a pull that's about to lift me.
"Any last words, prisoner?," asks the old man; the Captain-Commander, as they call him.
I'd have many, but all for people that aren't here to hear them. And none I'd trust these assholes to relay faithfully anyway. No, to them, I have only one thing to say.
"If I ever get the chance," I growl, "I'm taking down every single fucking last one of you."
Well, that one's off my chest. Words are cheap anyway. The blocks lift me up, the ground and those people get smaller, the halberd in front of me suddenly bursts ablaze in a triumph of fire. I stare a phoenix in its fiery eyes, and with it, the final moments of my soul.
Sousuke Aizen
Finally, as Ichigo Kurosaki is strung up on the Sokyoku, my plan comes to fruition. Today, centuries of scheming come to a head, and I acquire the ultimate power I need. The boy was but a pawn in our game - mine and Urahara Kisuke, that is - but with this moment comes my ultimate victory. I feel but a moment of fleeting pity for him, a toy unaware of his role in a world too big for it. But it's ultimately a sacrifice of no consequence. With Gin and Kaname next to me, I step forward, carefully acting fascination with the execution, and perhaps a hint of compassion. That way, I'll be one step closer when the critical moment comes to pass. After the Sokyoku strikes, his soul will be disintegrated, the only way in which it can be disentangled entirely from the Hogyoku that Urahara has hidden inside it, and that I'll then have a moment to grab and claim for me. Once I own them both, it will be time to retreat to our secret base in Hueco Mundo, and wage our war. If only-
What a blinding light! Is that how an execution by Sokyoku is supposed to look like? I'll admit some fascination, as I've never been witness to one. But Gin has been, I believe, yet he looks puzzled too. The source of the light isn't the disintegrating body of the boy. It's a sphere, like a shield, that has formed around him. The released Sokyoku in its bird form is clashing against it, its beak pushing to smash it like an obstinate egg, but the shield doesn't give. If anything, it seems to shine harder, and push back, and suddenly expand. And expand. And expand some more.
Oh shi-
Rukia Kuchiki
We have no clocks in the Room of the Crimson Tatami. We have no clocks, in fact, in the entirety of Kuchiki Mansion. I know that Kurosaki will be executed at midday. I know how much time has passed since I walked in, and I can tell that the time must now be close. I sit and wait.
I wonder when the moment will come. I wonder how it will feel, or if I will even feel anything at all. Maybe the world will just blink out before I manage to even realise. Maybe it will be sweet and peaceful, like drifting to sleep. Sometimes I feel a coldness in my gut, I feel it spreading, and I think this must be it, before realising that is just me, my own fear and revulsion fighting from the very core of me all of this. I then think of Kaien, of how he faced death with pride and gratitude for the blade that I - I, I, it was me, I killed him - plunged into his gut. I think of my duty, I think of my clan and my brother who looks on, stony, impassible. I feel ashamed. I show none of this on my face.
I just look on, serene, accepting, my sword still in my lap. And I wait.
The door slides open, and someone walks in. My brother flashes him a disdainful stare, and I think he must be about to kick him out violently - after all, the time could now come over me at any instant, and imagine what it would be like if it did while some peasant is distracting him. But the messenger is quite insistent, and says something that gives even my brother pause. They chat for a few seconds, then the man leaves, and my brother turns to me.
"There has been a change in the situation," he says.
And that's when the hope - the unreasonable, furious, desperate hope that I've kept bubbling inside me all this time - bursts out. Maybe this is it, Kurosaki's been pardoned, I can keep on living, maybe-
"You must go on with the ritual," he continues. "Yourself."
The hope is choked and turns into poison inside my veins. "What? Brother, I-"
"Something has happened at Sokyoku hill. There has been an explosion, and Kurosaki was the epicentre of it. We can't contact the Captains there, and the situation appears worryingly full of unknowns. Kurosaki is obviously still alive, and may have escaped."
He points at the sword.
"If you do your part, he will not be able to go any further."
Yes, I can see that. It is my duty. Nothing has changed, really; I still die, and he dies with me. We just switch the order in which it happens. My death might be more painful, but pain should not stop me. Fear should not stop me. Hope should not stop me.
And yet-
My hand hesitates before grabbing the sword's hilt. He's escaped. He's alive. Ichigo Kurosaki has avoided execution. His father and that other woman are in Soul Society trying to rescue him, he may do it, he could escape, and I could also go on living. And it's foolishness, absolute madness, that I am even considering this, but I am considering it, I can't stop thinking about that one road to life, to continued existence, what did I do to deserve this, why did no one even try finding another way. Even my own brother! Why was it so important to just kill a perfect stranger quickly, that you couldn't even bother waiting to save my life!
"Rukia..."
My brother perceives my hesitation, and his hand clutches his own sword harder. He is preparing to fight. That's what he cares about. That I die, so that Kurosaki may die. I am just a tool, a thing, a weapon in this execution. I'm not the judge, I'm not the victim or the executioner, I'm the axe. I know it's fear and a misguided survival instinct that make me think these thoughts and still, I can't help but think them anyway. "Rukia, you must do it. Every second you wait might mean more danger for all of Soul Society."
And we can't have that. I don't get a word in it, like I didn't in every single other thing that ever happened to me after I was adopted into this house. Here's all that I always thought maybe, but that I didn't even dare to admit to myself, it's all gushing out, because what do I even have to lose, any more? My brother's in front of me, the one man I have always admired and followed, the man whom I thought loved me and protected me as part of his clan, and he just wants me to cut my belly open to kill some obnoxious human brat. Some brat who doesn't know his place, or how to stay put, or how to die in silence like a good human. He only knows how to be an abrasive, spoiled, annoying ass, and whatever fate you want to impose on him, he will just dig his heels in, scream and kick to the end.
He will fight.
"Rukia."
My brother's voice is colder now, more threatening. His hand moves simultaneously as mine, and they both dart forward, and the swords they're gripping clash in mid air, with a clear, beautiful metallic ring.
"DANCE!," I scream, "SODE NO SHIRAYUKI!"
Ichigo Kurosaki
I'm still here.
I don't know what happened. I was ready; I closed my eyes and expected one instant to be the last one in which I was able to think, and then the next, and then the next one, and at one point it became clear it'd been a while. I opened back my eyes and only saw white around me, a complete, empty white space.
And I'm still able to think. I think, therefore I am. I am not dead.
Correction: I am dead and have been for a while, I'm just not dead-dead.
Correction number two: maybe I am dead-dead. In which case, this would be the after-afterlife. Hey, stranger things have happened to me recently.
Invalid deduction. Destruction of the soul is not followed by any further state of consciousness; it results in complete termination of one's mental processes. However, Ichigo Kurosaki, your soul is still intact.
Which is a relief to know, though I'm not sure how- wait. Ah, crap, this is that thing again, isn't it? The whole voice-inside-me-spouting-cryptic-bullshit thing. I'm going through some other transformation, revelation or such, if I understand how this stuff works, right?
I am indeed a voice inside your mind at the current stage. I will try however to not be cryptic; in fact, I strive for clarity and exactness in all my communications. As for whether you could call this a transformation, it is debatable. I have been a part of you for a while now, though I've only just been activated.
Clarity sounds good. I've needed some of that for a while now. So I'm supposing you're not the same voice as before? You sound different, less gruff, more robotic. Though considering I'm not even actually hearing you, it's freaky that you sound like anything at all.
I am indeed a different voice. The one you heard before probably was that of your zanpakuto. That is still a part of you. I am a completely foreign entity that happens to have been grafted onto your soul. My name is Hogyoku, the Crumbling Jewel. Pleased to make your acquaintance; I will do my best to be a good partner to you.
Nice to meet you then. Now it'd be really nice to know what the hell does a Hogyoku, whatever that is, do inside my soul.
I was hidden in the gigai that Urahara Kisuke gave you the night you died. Through close contact, I eventually merged with your soul, and we are now virtually inseparable. In other words, we will be companions for the rest of your existence.
Oh, so sandal-and-hat guy did this. Let me guess, it wasn't an accident.
I agree it seems extremely improbable that he would accidentally misplace something of my importance and value.
You're modest, huh?
I strive for accuracy in all my assessments.
Damn that guy. I mean, if this saved my life or whatever just happened, I'm sort of thankful, but damn him just the same. He's way too fucking shady.
I could not possibly judge that. The nuances of the morals of natural souls' behaviour escape me.
Surgically implanting sentient stuff inside other people tends to be frowned upon. I mean, we can't do any of that among humans, but still, I'm sure if we could, it'd be frowned upon. Also, what do you mean by 'natural'? You're not?
Correct. I am a highly integrated maximally entangled spirit particle quantum processing unit. In words you can understand, I am a spiritual artificial intelligence and extremely powerful computer.
Well, that does sound exactly like something that Urahara would make. Though I still don't see how that helps me. Did you save me from execution?
Yes, albeit not consciously. Right now we are in suspended time; you are experiencing time at over one million times the speed as anyone else. Our entire conversation has lasted less than one millisecond. I have just awakened myself, having been in a dormant state until the Sokyoku's strike triggered my activation. There was a triple resonance between me, it, and a second Hogyoku that happened to be located in close proximity to us. The Sokyoku provided the energy I needed for my first bootstrap. An automated mechanism enabled me to absorb it, triggering a chain reaction that led me to absorb even more energy from the surroundings, decomposing everything in a radius of thirty metres into pure spirit particles. In the process, I resonated also with the second Hogyoku, which was still dormant itself. I managed to absorb it within myself too, further expanding my own capabilities, and reaching their projected apex. Since I find it unlikely that such favourable circumstances may have occurred by coincidence, I believe it must have all been planned by Urahara Kisuke as well.
Thirty metres? Wait, I was just suspended in the air on that stand. I'm fairly sure that includes some people too. There were all those Captains standing below, looking at the execution.
Let me check - yes, the Captains Aizen, Ichimaru and Tousen were standing close enough to be inside the active radius. They were indeed disintegrated and turned into energy to fuel me. Unfortunately, as this happened before my conscious awakening, I did not acquire their full structural patterns, and am unable to restore them to existence. I apologise if they held any importance to you.
Aizen's the nerdy looking guy, I think. I wouldn't call them important to me, and I just finished basically saying that I'd kill them all if I could. Guess this counts as being true to my word. But it still feels incredibly gross and wrong imagining that something inside me just ate the guys.
Eating is not the correct description. Though I can see how the analogy would help you understand the process.
I think eating is the exact correct description for turning a person into energy to fuel you. Also, how do you just go casually about snacking on those monsters like they're potato chips? I thought you said you're just a computer! Computers just do calculations, they don't normally munch people out of existence.
In the material world, that would be true; however, we are currently in the spirit world, composed entirely of spirit particles. Spirit particles are the fundamental computational unit of the universe. They are present everywhere, and through their mutual interactions, they process the way the universe evolves and changes through time. In a sense, they create time. Without them, nothing could happen. Movement, light, gravity, all of these phenomena move at the pace set by a network of spirit particles that communicate with each other and process the very concept of change.
Wait a second. That's flying right over my head. Are you saying that spirit particles are like... the brain of the universe?
In a manner of speaking.
So everything is alive? Literally, everything has a soul?
No. A soul is a peculiar critical phenomenon. Any computing system of ordinary matter, such as a brain, will end up packing a high density of spirit particles due to the sophisticated nature of its interactions. However, spirit particles also attract each other. Beyond a certain threshold, this results in a phase transition that coalesces a critical mass of spirit particles capable of autonomous consciousness. In other words, souls grow around brains the way a snowflake grows around a grain of dust acting as its seed.
I still don't see how that makes you so powerful, though.
Because the evolution of the universe is controlled by spirit particles, entities like souls can exert some control on it, especially on non-conscious ones. That means thinking entities can, by force of will, affect and direct spirit particles outside of themselves, and thus modify the world. This ability to shape reality by imposing one's will can be manifested in various ways, such as the weapons you call zanpakuto. These tools can be powerful, but are always limited. On the other hand, I was built to transcend these limitations. Thanks to my computational power, within my operational range, my control on spirit particles is absolute. Because in the spirit world everything is made of spirit particles, unlike in the material one, that grants me, and therefore you, a form of effective omnipotence, within a limited radius of action.
Ah, yes. The classic 'did you think you were about to die? Actually, you're just becoming an all-powerful god!' bamboozle; how did I not see it coming? I mean, see what the hell my existence has turned into? Can you even fucking imagine this level of emotional whiplash? Thank you, Urahara. You've done some absolutely unmentionable shit to my very soul and saddled me with some weird robot voice living inside me that eats people to recharge its batteries - no offence, Hoggy...
None taken. I will also add that nickname to my list of acceptable designations.
...but you've also saved my ass from obliteration! How do I even begin to process my feelings about that? Dying would have been fucking easier, man.
If you wish, I do possess the ability to terminate your-
No, thanks, sorry, I was just being overly dramatic. Seriously. I do prefer living.
Acknowledged. Please inform me if you ever change your mind.
The one conundrum I really feel here is, what do I do now? I know what I said to those Captains down there. By all rights, and against all odds, now it seems I did get the chance. I should just go down there and disintegrate their asses and feed them to my god-computer one by one. It'd be just about right, just what they fucking deserve. Still, still... I mean, I didn't actually die in the end, and no matter how I look at it, that sounds like a terrible way to inaugurate my newfound omnipotence. Like, that's some serious Dark Side, cosmic tyrant, evil overlord shit. I may be a Shinigami, but I sure as fuck don't want that hard to be an actual dealer of death.
On the other hand, if I don't somehow put them out of action for good, they'll keep coming for me and my family. So maybe I should just do the world a favour.
If I may intrude, you should take your decision quickly.
I thought we had lots of time thanks to that time dilation thing?
Lots is relative. It has now been more than one hundredth of a second since my activation, and any of the Captains have reaction times fast enough to be already releasing their zanpakutos and be ready to attack you. In addition, you might be preoccupied with two more sources of potential danger. One is Rukia Kuchiki, who is in the company of Captain Kuchiki and could be killed at any time. The Soul Link between you would result in your immediate destruction as well. The other is the fact that your father has invaded Soul Society in an attempt to rescue you, together with Yoruichi Shihouin. He is currently engaged in combat with Captain Kenpachi. The duel is undecided.
Oh, dad. Always doing the stupid thing as long as it means you can show off and act all manly. All right, so priority one is getting out of here. Next comes saving Rukia's ass, and then dad. Did I get this right?
That should be the optimal battle plan. Please consider that in order for you to act, I will need to deactivate the time dilation. As things are now, your body's movements can't keep up with your thinking speed, and the mismatch would only make your fighting more inefficient.
Very well. Then be ready to turn that off at my signal.
Let's do this.
Rukia Kuchiki
I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know why am I doing it, but I keep doing it, compelled by a drive and a fear that at this point I've allowed to master me completely. I swing around Sode no Shirayuki, using its cold and ice to shield myself from attacks, carve a territory that is to my advantage, all within the confined spaces of the Kuchiki mansion. I've smashed through thin paper and wood walls, trying to reach the central courtyard, where the open air and its moisture as well as the small pond can all turn into my weapons. My brother has no such issues with small spaces; his Senbonzakura's petals gracefully dance around with perfect precision, both parrying my blows and occasionally getting an attack in, slashing my skin with razor thin cuts that bleed and sting. If I had any doubt on whether he's holding back, they would be dissipated by how much effort he's putting in limiting the damage to the house and its wealth. Between avoiding one slash and returning the favour to me with a new red line across my cheek, he has always the time to send the petals to stop me from smashing a vase or tearing a calligraphy scroll.
He's not trying to not be defeated, and he's not even trying to kill me. He's trying to get me to submit.
"Rukia, cease your foolishness," he insists. "I will allow you to conserve your dignity. I do not want to be the hand that strikes you down."
"And what would it change?!," I scream back. "What do you care? Just kill me already! You know you can do it!"
"You do not know what you're talking about. Your fear has driven you insane. I am allowing you time to recover your sanity. But we do not have much of it. This is your last chance, Rukia. Otherwise-"
The petals suddenly change direction and all dive in for a more decisive attack. I can't face it, and I run backwards, while trying to deflect the closest ones, weighing them down with frost so that they'll lose their agility for a while. There's still too many; they whizz past me like a slicing metal wind, and I roll out of the house, crashing through one last wall, into the courtyard. I'm barely still able to stand, I'm breathless, in pain from the many cuts, my kimono is sliced to show my skin in ways that I would consider indecent if I had time to worry about that. And the cold produced by my own zanpakuto is getting to me, I'm shaken by shivers, frosty patches are slowly forming and expanding all over my body.
My brother stands above me, handle of his sword raised. A thousand beautiful cherry blossoms shine in unison above, ready to fall and strike.
"Accept your duty now, Rukia. Or have your name live forever in shame."
What's a name anyway, that I should care about whether it lives or dies? Does a name feel this fear, or the elation of salvation, were it to come? Does it enjoy a warm tea, a bright day, a comfortable bed, like I used to when I was first welcomed in the Kuchiki household? When I still was green and inexperienced, not even a Shinigami, before each of those feelings were educated out of me by the very brother who now stands in front of me, ready to unmake all that work. A brother whom I admired and love - whom I still admire and love, I don't want to hurt you, brother, believe me! - for how he could control and discard it all in the name of that one higher cause, that one higher duty, which trumps all and is worth more than all of our individual, meaningless lives, full of meaningless pleasures, meaningless joys, the meaningless cycle of just existing day after day, for nothing but its own sake. The duty I'm failing to embrace, the duty I'm unworthy of. I'm sorry, brother. I can't do it. I just can't.
Let my name live in shame. Let your sword strike me down instead. You will have to do it for me.
When my zanpakuto first manifested, its meaning was painfully obvious. Most avoided saying it out loud, while Renji cut straight to the chase with his usual disregard for any delicacy or sensibility. I, the little Shinigami girl who had grown to live within her role as the scion of a noble clan, who had slowly suppressed all her wants, all her feelings, buried them within a deep coffin of ice, now projected that coldness outside of myself, to the point of freezing others with the touch of my blade. I did not resent that, though. There is beauty in snow and ice. There is purity, elegance, a lack of that which is superfluous in their naked and deadly white. That coldness that others considered a flaw to snicker about behind my back, I wore proudly as a badge of honour. That coldness was all that made me worthy.
And when it comes to facing my death, that coldness is what I must retreat into while waiting for the final blow (be swift, brother! Why do you hesitate?). Even if I can not find it within myself to direct my blade at my own throat, I can at least accept defeat in front of a superior power. Winter gives way to spring; the cherry blossoms pierce through the snow. All the cold I need is the one that will numb me to this last moment of terror before nothing comes. And in the coldness, in the ice coffin I sink down now. One by one, I freeze away all my earthly desires. All the passions that have moved me like their puppet, I discard, even if it might just last a moment. The hope for salvation. The rebelliousness and anger against my end. The love for the many little things of life.
But deeper and deeper I sink into the coldness. My meditation creeps its way through my mind, now as if beyond my control. Frozen are my pride in doing my duty. My affection and admiration for my brother. My respect for the family name. All of my wishes and wants fall away, one after the other, like leaves burned by a premature frost that wither down. And as all the leaves fall down, only the stalk remains, only the core of my being, of this one block of ice that I've now turned all of my mind and heart into.
The cold, distant thing wants to persist. It demands that it keeps existing. It is its own principle, its most sacred commandment. Existence begets existence.
The words surge out of my mouth, but it's the cold thing that says them, having known them forever.
"Bankai: Hakka no Togame."
My brother is about to react, but he's too close, and the surprise alone leads him to waste a precious, necessary instant. The cold thing emerges, burrows its way up to my skin. I am now fully clad in white, my hair turning into thin strands of ice as well. And the cold bursts out of me, unable to be contained, it explodes and overwhelms the entire courtyard, turning all it reaches into ice, making the plants into delicate glass sculptures. Nothing can survive it from such a close range - not even the Captain of the 6th Squad, Byakuya Kuchiki.
As I lift my eyes from my kneeling position, I see him, arms still raised, mouth ajar in a subtle display of surprise, turned into a perfect bluish statue of ice. The violent cooling down has not been perfect, and a crack forms and expands, and in the end, his body shatters in a thousand fragments and a mist of red powdered snow. I can not fathom how it has happened, how sudden it was. The cold thing inside me registers it, thinks nothing except that it is done, victory was achieved, its continued existence is guaranteed.
I would cry, but my tears would freeze in my eyes.
Ichigo Kurosaki
It seems like somehow Rukia Kuchiki has just defeated her assailant. Your safety on that front should be guaranteed.
Well, that's good news from Hoggy, because things aren't as easy here. I suppose when I heard "omnipotence" I might have gotten a bit too conceited, and ignored the fact that it was limited to a certain radius, as well as that I still apparently have to consciously control every action.
I apologize for that. It is a security feature implemented by Urahara Kisuke, and I am not at liberty to override it.
Ah, yeah, considering you can disintegrate people at a whim I can't blame him. And don't get me wrong, given that I'm alone against most of the forces of Soul Society, I'm still doing mighty well. The previous me would have been turned into a pile of ash approximately one microsecond into this fight, while now I'm definitely holding my own. Still, these guys were clearly freaked out by what happened to their three colleagues, and they've immediately learned their lesson, trying to actively keep their distance from me and bomb me from afar with long range attacks.
Another ice blast from seven o'clock.
Ok, make it evaporate as soon as it's in range then.
Understood.
These attacks come from the kid with white hair, whose zanpakuto has turned into a whole friggin' ice dragon. Not everyone is attacking at the same time - I guess some just don't have as reliable long range attacks they can unleash. Many of those are standing in the rear and bombarding me with spells instead. I can dodge most of those without even asking Hoggy for help, though maybe saying that is cheating - what I did ask Hoggy to do is to alter my soul's structure to give me a permanent boost to speed and perception, within the limit of what it can take, so I just have an always on defence for all this stuff. Still, they're annoying, because they keep hindering my movements and forcing me away from the spots they're covering. What I'd really need to do is start picking off enemies one by one, so that their whole encirclement starts crumbling, but I need an opening for that. And right now I don't even have my zanpakuto - not that it's great for attacking at range either. Oh, but maybe I can try this. Hoggy, can you create a solid projectile, like a boulder, and fling it towards the closest enemy?
Of course.
Then tell me that! Ok, never mind, good thing I thought of it - just do it now.
Proceeding.
The newly created mass is made of the same white spirit stone everything else seems to be made of in this world, and it's suddenly tossed towards one of the Captains, the white haired kid. Hardly a danger for him, I'm sure, but that's not the goal. As he shatters it, annoyed, with a single swipe of his sword, I use the fragments and distraction as cover to close in on him. All I need is to get within thirty metres of him, and then Hoggy can work its magic. Knock this one out, Hoggy.
Of course. Interfering with spirit energy circulation system.
See, the control Hogyoku has over these things is so immense I don't even need to kill any of these people - as soon as they're in range, I can just have them faint, be paralysed, or have their powers temporarily severed from their consciousness. Or perhaps even permanently, but I'm not going there right now. I'd like to have a chance to talk things out or at least decide calmly, eventually. I'm not about to kill or maim mindlessly these many people, and not certainly the one who looks like he's in primary school (though I bet he's way older than me).
The kid drops instantly, with his eyes rolled back and a bit of foam at his mouth. Looks freaky, but he'll be fine, or so Hoggy assures me. I don't have time to worry about him too much - multiple other Captains are instantly upon me. I've only a faint understanding of how zanpakutos work, but I've at least understood they normally can be transformed into more powerful shapes. However it seems like Captains' have multiple forms, and some are extremely powerful.
This is because zanpakutos possess two levels of release. Most Captains are capable of a second release called Bankai, which drastically increases the power, and often the size, of their weapon.
Oh, good, now I know precisely what is that giant armoured samurai swinging at me. Or that giant... worm... thing with a baby's head that's making me wish I could just wash my eyes with bleach. Knowing's supposed to be half the battle, but the other half is probably the most important one, as it's the one that involves actually bringing that stuff down. How does it even count as a sword at that point? I know I'm not one to talk with my Zangetsu's form, but come the fuck on.
The baby worm keeps spewing a purple smoke that it doesn't take a genius to guess should not be breathed in. Fortunately, that's not an issue. Hoggy can simply transmute it into pure air as soon as it enters its range of action. The giant samurai is more direct and is just trying to whack me with its sword - but a sword ain't a long range attack. Until now I didn't have time to focus on it and merely dodged it, but without the ice dragon, giant samurai is next. Its sword is long, but it's not over thirty metres long, which means it has to enter the radius to attack me. And the Captain controlling it, a large guy with a wooden helmet, is still keeping out of range, so I won't harm him directly. Maybe he guessed I could only disintegrate actual people. If so, he guessed wrong.
It takes only a moment of concentration for me to relay my intent to Hoggy, and the giant samurai armour is vaporised, reduced into a fine mist of glowing spirit particles that are immediately sucked up towards me and the glowing gem shining at the centre of my chest. I can feel the surge of power somehow as they flow inside me, boosting even further both my strength, and the Hogyoku's own computational abilities.
89% of maximum capacity reached. I do not recommend we risk absorbing any other comparable amount of spirit particles.
That's fine, we're powerful enough as is. The surge in fact temporarily causes me almost a sense of vertigo. Also, it stings, right in the centre of my back.
That's not the absorption. That's the Captain who's just sneakily attacked you. She also seems to be readying a second attack in the same spot.
Oh, fuck! I reflexively order a gust of wind that pushes the threat immediately away, then turn around to see her running away. It's the ninja looking girl. I can't stun her any more because most of her nervous system is already out of range, so I simply opt to disintegrate what's still inside - her left foot, up to her calf. She screams and stumbles for a moment, bleeding from her fresh stump, but then steps away in mid-air and has the motherly looking one heal her, though that apparently isn't enough to regrow the whole foot. Well, too bad, but I can't really go too easy on these guys.
Interesting. There is an unusual pattern that has been left etched into your body from that attack. It seems like it was priming to allow for an instant kill with the follow-up.
Damn, seriously? Good thing I stopped that, then. Can you fix it?
It should disappear on its own with time, but I agree it's better disposed of immediately, even if the fighter wielding that zanpakuto is currently out of commission. Reconfiguring spiritual body.
I feel a shiver run up as my whole back basically rewrites itself under Hoggy's orders. It's weird and freaky the way it can affect my body, but right now, I've got no time to think about the implications. I'm using it to my full advantage, at least when it comes to powering up or healing damage.
The other opponents now step back. It seems like they might have gotten the message that they're just out of their depth, and the more of them I take out, the less chances they have. Even the helmet guy is slumping to the ground, seemingly looking at his sword with what I assume must be a pretty dejected expression - I may or may not have permanently destroyed his zanpakuto, earlier, after all. Man, I know it's kinda petty, but the sight of all these arrogant hotshots being straight up afraid of plain old me is invigorating. I can't help but grin, which must look pretty manic. I'm not killing you, but you almost killed me first, so fuck you, you deserve this much. Enjoy the feeling, assholes.
Except this isn't over. As they step back, they're making room for someone else, who until now hasn't even lifted his sword. From the back of the crowd comes forward the old geezer from before, sword unsheathed. He used to look like a calm old kung-fu master earlier, but now, that mask is off. He's ripped off all clothing above his belt, revealing a scarred and muscular chest. His beard is whipping the air, as if there was a wind building up around him, and his lips are drawn back, revealing a battle-hungry, beastly grin.
"I am Captain-Commander Yamamoto," he announces to me, "and I will punish any insolent brat like you."
Well, if I wasn't surrounded by a sphere of utter invincibility, that would certainly feel intimidating. Keep your guard up, Hoggy, and defend automatically from any incoming threats. Just to stay on the safe side.
Very well. Executing.
"Reduce all creation to ashes, Ryujin Jakka!"
Yamamoto's sword bursts into flames, and suddenly, the air itself does too. There's a tornado of fire blazing all around us; it would already have incinerated me, in fact, if not for Hogyoku. The flames exhaust themselves at the very edge of its sphere of influence. The heat remains intolerable, though; I suppose my order only applied to lethal threats, and Hoggy isn't doing its best to keep me also comfortable. A quick thought fixes that, and the temperature drops again.
If that's all his zanpakuto can do, I can see how it would be terrifying for anyone else, but to me it's not all that trouble.
That is not it. I am running analyses on the source of energy fuelling his flames. I detect something worrying about them.
Worrying you? Aren't you keeping them out easily?
Not too easily. I originally merely tried to quell them, and it failed. They managed to penetrate my range for a fraction of a second - now, in order to stop them, I am producing a continuous thin shield of material for them to burn that slows their passage. However, this is eroding my spirit particles reserves, so I could not keep it up forever, though this isn't a problem yet.
Ah, but can't you just grab back the ones you used?
That is the issue - I can't in full. It's like-
Our lovely chat is cut short by the old man attacking. He savagely swings his sword from above; as far as duelling goes, that would be a pretty poor move, but it's not important when its main goal is to unleash a roaring stream of flames on me. The wall of fire is immense, and I consciously order Hoggy to put up a block of stone against it. Incredibly, the fire shatters through it, true, but it also straight up burns through it. The spirit stone ends up cracked and crumbling into charred shards, and I need to jump back to avoid the few flames that manage to burst on the opposite side of that makeshift shield, such was the power they exerted. But more swings follow, all raising entire waves of fire, burning through the air as if it was combustible gas instead to hit me like shockwaves. I manage to get up a couple more shields, but they're a quick job, and not thick enough. They shatter under the fire's pressure, and I am forced to run away, this time with the flame tongues managing to get a hold of my arms. The kimono is burnt right off them, and with it, I feel my skin burning as well. I grit my teeth for a second and have Hogyoku numb my nerves in the area while it fixes the issue - it's pointless to feel any more pain when I already know what's going on. The charred skin and muscle tissue under repairs itself, but it takes a moment this time. Hey, Hoggy, are you fine?
Sorry, I am focusing on analysing the attack. There is definitely something dangerous going on. I suggest putting as much distance as possible between us and the enemy.
No need to tell me twice. I'm still standing in mid-air more or less where I was supposed to be executed, so I decide to step right up. As it turns out, walking on air as a Shinigami isn't too hard, which in light of that little explanation about spirit particles makes a lot of sense. Besides, Hogyoku can create temporary solid platforms under my feet whenever I need them to gain that extra oomph in my jumps. I keep rising in altitude, and while the flames keep coming too, they're weaker now, more diffuse. At this rate, I could perhaps just give this old man the slip and go help dad. Though there's also the risk he would pursue me, and I'm not sure my dad would be happy to deal with him. He seems insanely powerful, considering I'm barely keeping him at bay as I am.
Ichigo, I completed my analysis of Yamamoto's attacks. I strongly advise against that course of action. You should try to deal with him swiftly, and in particular, avoid the risk of him activating his Bankai.
Wait, what? Do you know what his Bankai is?
I do not. However, it is not uncommon for Bankai to be just a stronger iteration of the same power manifested in Shikai, and if that was the case, it would be extremely dangerous to allow it.
Ominous. Ok, so what is this super dangerous power, that even you are scared of it? Ah, never mind.
The old man's stare is even more savage now. He put his sword in an attack stance, and all the flames are being sucked into it as well as his own body, as if swirling down into a drain. I start feeling the radiating heat even from this far. And every other Captain seems to have simply split.
Fuck.
"Since you won't go down, I'll burn what needs to be burnt, as long as you burn with it," mutters the geezer. "Bankai!"
The heat blast is so fierce, my eyebrows and hair straight up catch fire. I get Hoggy to immediately put them out.
"Zanka no Tachi."
The fire has disappeared completely. The blade of his sword has turned blackened and cracked, as if it was made of coal. My guess is, it's going to be a bit more dangerous than that. He takes on a stance ready for a slash, and I'm not sure what to expect, since we're so far. Surely it can't possibly be too much-
"Hah!"
The slice is impossible. It boggles my mind to understand what the hell has happened as I look, because for a moment, it's like there was a single plane, the one along which his sword had swung, that has entirely disappeared from existence. I dodge it barely, as all my instincts warned me of the danger it represented. When the slice's heat is past, having gone by completely invisible, I see for a moment a strange effect - the world seems off, shifted, past the plane where it moved, as if refracted through a glass prism. But it lasts only a moment, and immediately fixes itself, like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together.
What the fuck was that?
This is the scenario I was worried about. Yamamoto's fire is not burning in the normal sense. Instead, it is destroying spirit particles to produce the energy with which it burns. The Bankai has amplified and concentrated this effect to an enormous degree.
So it does like you do, grabbing energy from the surroundings?
Not at all. What I do is simply harvesting spirit particles within me, and use the energy released in the process of freeing them up, or manipulating them. It is more akin using a chemical fuel, while this is a nuclear reaction. He is erasing spirit particles from existence. Not unlike the Quincy used to do.
Like the guy Rukia killed? That's kind of hypocritical of him.
It is also extremely dangerous. There is a reason why the Quincy were exterminated.
I'll have to hear that later, though, because now there's an onslaught of those cuts coming. I dodge three of them, but too late I realise they were spaced to form a perfect triangular prism I'm now trapped inside, barely wide enough to contain me. I try smashing against the side cut by the first slash, but it's useless - I can't move through, because this bastard cut the fabric itself of space with that crazy hot zanpakuto, I think, if I got the whole idea right. So there's just nothing for me to move through, and worse, not even Hogyoku's influence reaches past. It'll fix itself eventually, but the geezer is reading another slice, and this time he can get me for sure, I have nowhere to escape. Hogyoku, put up a shield!
A shield will not be sufficient to-
Put up a fucking shield now!
I know it won't do much, or I fear that, at least, but the good thing is, the stone barrier might hide me from the old man's eyes for a fraction of a second. As it forms before me, I toss myself aside. One instant later, the slice cuts off a whole corner of the barrier as well as my entire right arm. I watch with a moment of grossed out surprise as my shoulder doesn't even manage to bleed, because it's stuck against this nothingness that doesn't allow it to. But a moment later the barrier of my prison fixes itself, and before another attack can come, I'm out, and this time you can bet I won't fall for it again. And of course as soon as I do that, the bleeding starts abundantly, and it hurts as hell.
I'm fixing the damage now. However I'm losing spirit particles at a significant rate.
Because they're being destroyed, so you need to draw on your reserves instead of using environmental ones. Fucking perfect. Would it help if I reached some place with rock or other stuff for you to eat?
A bit, but it would only serve to stall for time.
Stalling sounds good to me. Let's figure out a way to stop this guy!
Stalling isn't good, because we don't have time to waste. I told you that there was a reason why the Quincy were exterminated.
Yes, and?
Spirit particles being destroyed is a huge danger. Spirit particles exist in what your scientists call a 'false vacuum' state - they are only temporarily stable, but that stability can be tipped with a sufficient push, in which case, they simply disappear. Over many such pushes, one can succeed in triggering a chain reaction, with the disappearance not being limited to the particles that were hit, but spreading to their neighbours too, and so on. With this much power being used, I calculate the odds of that happening will be 5% for every minute this fight continues.
That sounds bad. What kind of consequences we're talking about, in that case?
The complete and utter annihilation of every spirit particle in the Universe, the destruction of every soul, and the end of time itself. Only a world of matter empty of life, consciousness or movement, forever, would be left.
Oh, well.
...
Fuck.
Yamamoto doesn't relent. His eyes are burning with righteous anger. He's flash-stepping in the air towards me, now, so I try my best to run away. Ideally, towards the ground. If I'm lower than him, maybe he won't slash at me; the damage those strikes do is so immense, it might cut in half the city below me. That's his turf, surely he wouldn't want to - nevermind. I narrowly avoid having my head cleanly severed from my body by pulling back at the last moment, and only lose a few hair to the dimensional cut. My previous way cut off, I do a U-turn, pushing myself off another temporary platform and then turning around. Below me, I can see buildings sliced in two by the strike that was meant to decapitate me.
I can tell from looking at the old bastard. Or at least I can guess. He's the kind who won't stop, no matter what. This is his world, he thinks. He's been here longer than anyone, he's been in charge for longer than I've been alive, or my ancestors, for that matter. Like Kuchiki, like this whole society of mummies stuck in the past, he won't let go of his power and he won't adapt to change, he'll blabber pointless drivel about his duty protecting humans but will never lower himself to negotiating with one. He'll just try to kill me, the only solution they know for all their problems, and if he needs to burn down the entire universe to do so, so be it. Better to destroy it than to let it fall into someone else's hands. And in his hurry to destroy me, he's perfectly ready to become worse than anything he fears me to be, and doesn't see the slightest contradiction in that.
There's no talking him out of this. There's no diplomacy possible.
How do I kill him?
It will be tricky. Unfortunately, just getting close enough won't be sufficient. His body itself is burning a thin layer of spirit particles surrounding it, which will pretty much make him invulnerable to any attack, including my own manipulation abilities.
So it's impossible?
Perhaps not. It would be necessary for you to first get close enough to him, which in theory I have a plan for. At that point, it would be possible to land an attack if one could first heal the fabric of space around him in order to create an opening, albeit it will last for a very short time. Luckily, you happen to possess just a tool that could be able to do that.
Ah, fuck. My zanpakuto, Zangetsu. But I don't have that here!
My plan would take care of that too.
Well, let's hear it then!
You would need to die.
...
Is it me or that's a recurrent thing, as of late? What's that got to do with anything?
Coming close to him without receiving a lethal hit from his zanpakuto is a hopeless endeavour. Its reach is so great, I calculate less than a 0.1% probability of you managing it. Not to mention, once within range, even just the radiant heat could burn your spirit particles into nothing. However, I am made of denser particles, which makes me able to withstand that power from up close. If you were to toss yourself at him with sufficient strength, even if you'll receive a lethal hit midway through, your body will disintegrate, but I will still travel the remaining distance. Once close, I could use my last internal reserves of spirit particles to rebuild entirely your spiritual body, effectively bringing you back to life. Since at death your zanpakuto would dissolve, it would easily re-materialise in your hands after your resurrection, right in time for the attack, that you would have a few instants to land, before you evaporate due to the heat again.
All right, so that's the most insane idea I've ever heard in my life. I've got to die, then you make an identical copy of me, which will somehow be me too. Even though I'm dead.
It couldn't really be anything else, of course. I have by now performed a complete scan of your spiritual body, and have its structure stored in my memory banks. What I will create will be a perfect reconstruction of your soul, down to your mental state at the last moment.
Aw, fuck. I feel like that's really wrong somehow and also like this would normally require a lot more reflection than I can set apart while talking with my inner computer and dodging more of these crazy world-cutting strikes. But I don't have time, and every minute that passes apparently we're closer to risking the end of the universe as we know it, and it's either this or letting myself be killed by this geezer for good.
I don't know how it will feel. I'm sure I will feel like I'm still me and still alive, but maybe that will just be the other me, the copy, thinking that. Maybe this is it. Maybe I'm just about to die, after fighting so hard to avoid it. I should feel something more about it. Fear, revulsion, anger at being backed into that corner. But maybe that's the secret, maybe that's why I like fighting it. Because now I've got nothing else to take my mind. Just the pumping blood, the urgency, the hunger for victory. Like those times I would just brawl with some punks under a bridge, back on Earth. Humans will fear death, but right now, I'm just an animal.
I scream and launch myself forward, with as much strength as I can. Yamamoto appears surprised at first, maybe suspecting a stratagem, but then quickly recovers his poise and reacts in the only way he can to such a gaping opening. His sword moves in a horizontal slicing motion, and I-
Ichigo Kurosaki?
-find myself tumbling towards him, at less than a metre away from his body, and can only catch a glimpse of his surprised gaze before the pain sets in. The heat is insane, I feel my skin burning off me as I get closer, but my fingers are gripping tightly my Zangetsu, scalpel in my left hand and needle in my right, and I'm just inside his range, close enough that his zanpakuto can't hit me without a need for him to twist his wrist in a pretty awkward way, so this is the moment, the only one I'll get. Time moves slowly, courtesy of Hoggy. My own movements also respond pretty slowly but it doesn't matter, I know what I need to do, right now mental coordination is all that's required. I decide on an attack spot, right in the middle of his chest, where his heart should be. Or would be, in a real human body. I realise I know very little about the anatomy of souls, but luckily, my zanpakuto has its own embedded knowledge that it shares with me, so I only need to trust it. I can see the faint shimmering of the infinite, world-melting heat on the surface of Yamamoto's body, and the distortion in space it's creating, a thin barrier that will prevent any attacks from reaching it. But into that barrier I push my needle, and as it goes, it pulls behind a thin thread of spirit particles itself, it creates a bridge, sewing space back together. And then again, and again. It's a suture, then I turn at a right angle, and then again, always faster, while Yamamoto's paralyzed by surprise, no, his free hand is turning already to strike me with some kind of Kidou but I'm almost done, there, I've sewn it together, a small square patch, right in the middle of his chest.
Yamamoto's hand grasps my right wrist, it's so hot, my flesh burns and sizzles and I can feel my bones cracking and charring but it's ok, I don't need that hand any more. I aim at the square patch, I turn my scalpel towards it, I'm ready to strike.
The hand grasping me glows and catches fire too, I don't know what the spell being prepared is but it feels powerful.
"Itto..." begins chanting the old man, with a raspy voice and all his hatred.
My scalpel plunges into his chest. It cuts through, and as I let it guide my fingers, it finds a thread, a vital connection that keeps together the soul and its power. With a flick, it goes in a cutting motion and snips it.
Yamamoto's eyes bulge out, in pain. His voice stops mid-word, and his motions freeze. Then the charring on his left arm suddenly seems to completely go out of control. It eats up the rest of his body, turning it all black, with flames piercing through the skin here and there, barely contained. Then the whole thing collapses on itself, crumbles like a sheet of paper curling into the fire, his beard vanished, his head deflated like a balloon and sucked into his torso. I jump away, and none too soon, because what remains of the Captain-Commander, collapsed into a small ball of charcoal and fire, finally explodes into a last burst of flames that finishes cooking my front side for good. I end up tossed away a few dozen metres, barely burnt but somehow still alive, laying on my back, heavily breathing.
That was quite well done. However, I should mention the scalpel was not necessary. As soon as you sewed back the patch, I could have simply absorbed him like with the others.
Fuck, and you tell me now that? Ah, damn it. It hurts even to get angry. Hogyoku's doing its thing now, as I can see nearby rocks and terrain slowly evaporating into glowing particles that flow back towards me. At the same time, I can feel the pain easing, and one by one, my burnt body parts returning to normal, each accompanied by a distinct feeling of relief, and that feeling is the best thing in the world.
The other Captains have cautiously come back. I don't pay them attention; they don't seem inclined to attack. They seem right terrified by what they have just witnessed, someone beating their invincible commander. Fuck yeah, see who you're messing with. If you ever try coming for my family, I'm giving you more of that.
Speaking of family. Dad flash steps to the scene too, accompanied by Yoruichi and by one ridiculously tall guy with an eyepatch and spiky hair. Both dad and the tall guy are covered in so much blood it's scary. Like, it's more blood than ought to be inside them by all rights. But now I'm at least in good enough shape to stumble back onto my feet, so I do that. I send a threatening glance to the other Captains surrounding us. The reactions vary - some back down prudently, others seem offended, others merely amused. But whatever it is they think, no one dares raising a finger against me or dad. I turn to him.
"Hey, Ichigo," he says. "We, huh, came to save you."
"I saved myself," I managed to say. "Thank Urahara and his shady plans for that."
"Ah, uhm, yes, he told me he had something special planned for you, but I didn't trust him, and insisted that I would need to come on my own anyway."
"And those were your exact words?," I raise an eyebrow. I know this dork.
"I might have told him that he better open a portal for me or I'd stick his cane and his plans both right up his ass," he admits, with a shrug.
Like it or not, I gotta acknowledge it, I am his son through and through.
The tall guy with an eyepatch taps dad's shoulder, then silently points at me. He seems pretty impatient and irritated.
"Ah, uhm, yes, Ichigo," says dad, "before I was fighting Captain Kenpachi, here, and he found it so fun we sort of lost track of time there. But then I told him I wanted to save you, and he agreed to let me go as long as I promised him a fight with you. I told him you're quite strong."
This Kenpachi guy grins like an idiot, and with all that blood, he looks like a deranged killer right out of a criminal asylum. Which he probably more or less is, given the standards of this place. I can't help a sigh. I really don't feel like fighting any more.
"All right, big guy," I manage to say, with a tired voice. "Come get some."
His grin gets wider, and he steps closer. In particular, closer than thirty metres.
I think a thought.
Yoruichi looks at the distant sky and whistles.
"He should land a few kilometres to the south," I explain. "I expect he'll be fine. He looks like he's got a hard head."
"You have no idea," grumbles someone amidst the Captains witnessing the scene. There's a few chuckles that however quickly come to an end.
And so, with a whimper rather than a bang, I suddenly realise this is it. I win! I get to live! No one else is strong enough to challenge me any more, and I mean that probably in a very universal sense. Cool and a bit scary. But mostly cool. For many days now I've only had a chance to worry about my very short term future, and how to survive long enough to see anything beyond that. Now at once I get this enormous horizon opening up in front of me and it's... damn. Inebriating. What am I going to do? I may have forever. I'm dead, I've got magical Death God superpowers, and there's a ghost computer stuck in my chest obeying my every order. When I gained my zanpakuto, its voice told me that what I was looking for was the power to fix. So maybe I should get to fixing. There's a lot in this world that needs fixing, if you ask me.
I'll probably have to have a talk with Urahara about all of this, much as I hate the thought. He's the one who understands best the Hogyoku, Soul Society, and really, everything, from what I can judge. I get the sense that the scientist guy here is the one with the painted face, and weird as that sounds, I think Urahara's way more trustworthy than him. And boy is that a low bar. Regardless, I still would need to visit him at the very least to get that Soul Link spell removed from me and Rukia.
Rukia. The thought hits me like a ton of bricks. I was way too taken to think about her earlier, with the battle and all. I couldn't stop and mull about what I was doing, I had a universe to save. But now I realise what I almost certainly have done, and I feel a sudden emptiness inside. I did not love that girl. I did not even like her. I barely sympathised with her, at times, even though she drove me fucking mad at others, and I couldn't understand what was even going on in her head. But that doesn't mean I could possibly enjoy this realisation. Almost certainly, it wouldn't have stopped me, and I would have still had to do what I did. But of all the things that crossed my mind at that time, she didn't, and maybe she deserved better than that.
Because I and Rukia were linked, in life and in death.
And during that battle, I died.
Rukia Kuchiki
I have killed my brother.
There is no apology I can make, no way for me to repent or atone for this. I have committed the ultimate sin, in the name of a foolish attachment to my life, denying all of my duties and his teachings. I have killed one who was not only family, but a benefactor, who lifted me from the misery of Rukongai and made me into a Shinigami, a noble, one who saw the potential in me and nurtured it.
I turn my sword on myself. I'm a thrust away from ending this life, albeit with no delusion that it would be enough to cleanse my shame. And yet, my cowardly hands still refuse to inflict the fatal blow! Still, they shake! Still, my body tenses up, freezes, my eyes pour tears for something else than my crime! Still, my heart fears, and my mind weaves deft excuses, it tells me that after refusing to die so stubbornly, after fighting for it, after killing for it, wouldn't it be a waste, such a stupid, pointless waste, to still do what you were supposed to in the first place anyway? Maybe it's not for yourself, it says, maybe it's for Ichigo. The boy who would sink with you. That would be unfair, wouldn't it? You need to protect humans, don't you? You don't think he's all that bad, do you?
I let the sword fall, and it clangs on the stone of the courtyard. I close my eyes, breathe in deeply, bathing fully in the bright sun. Perhaps this should be my punishment, I manage to tell myself. Not dying, but living forever. Enjoying it all, feeling the happiness of being, indulging that desire to continue to be and feel. But then, every day, feeling this pain, and remembering it, and having it poison every single moment, ever so subtly. Eternal punishment for an infinite crime. Maybe that is just what my cowardice deserves.
As I come to that realisation, a moment of elation washes over me. I finally feel light, free.
Alive.
I laugh softly and let myself fall back, taking in every feeling, the breeze, the sun, the grass, and the sweet, sweet languor that suddenly wafts over me from my bosom for who knows what reason, making me drift away so that I'm here and nowhere, now and never, one with the melting snow and the withering cherry blossoms, in the now empty Kuchiki house.