Editing/QC: Trolzylulzy
Phew. I've had a busy couple months. Crazy period at work, packing and moving through the entire month of July, and a solid three week period of writer's block.
Wasn't very happy with that last one, but here we are.
Anyways, review time. Only one thing I can really comment on here; it was from a guest asking why this is rated 'M'. Which, I will admit, is a good question. When I started this I honestly hadn't spent much time on the site yet, and just got the general idea for the ratings from things I'd read, so I mainly just set it to M to be safe. While I don't plan to make this incredibly risqué, or indeed write anything resembling true smut, certain things in the future may tread the line. I'll change it if I need to, just covering my own ass.
That's it for now, I'm happy to see people enjoying this so much despite my terrible release...well, I was going to say 'schedule', but it's not nearly consistent enough for that, is it?
Thanks for stopping by.
Chapter 17:
A startlingly bright azure sky greeted the first platoon of Soul Reapers as they exited the Senkaimon. Warm winds and a charmingly serene stretch of low, rolling hills covered in a thick canopy of treetops were all that the initial scouts reported.
The Lieutenant of the Thirteenth squad was not reassured by this.
The first few hours, Rukia had to force herself to relax; her shoulders were knotted with tension, and she knew that if it came to a battle she would need to be at her most prepared. Thus, she wasn't really sure if being subjected to Captain Kyoraku's particular method of stress relief was a boon or not.
"-And then," the grizzled man chortled, on his umpteenth outrageous story so far, "I was hurled out of the royal chambers, still wrapped up in that ladies' kimono!" At this he nodded sagely, one hand tugging at the flowery ensemble that was always draped over his captains Haori. "In memory of that night, I've worn these ever since."
Nanao touched down nearby, shaking her head wearily at the man she pushed off in yet another long leap. Captain Ukitake stifled a chuckle as he ran next to her, long white hair streaming back in the wind.
Rukia glanced back at the rest of the force trailing along, small, tight knit groups spread out to prevent any type of ambush from taking too large a toll. She would have joined her own squad mates as well, but due to the fact that she was the only one to encounter any of the Arrancar for more than a brief, terrifying instant, the two captains had urged her to join them at the head of the pack. So far they hadn't encountered even the slightest sign of anything out of place, but their assurances that it was all according to plan still rankled her.
"We are both the bait and the trap," Ukitake had murmured, his kind features darkening, "The commander knows what he is doing."
This statement had followed the surprising declaration that the Third and Fifth squads, both without captains, would be held back as extra reinforcements in the Seireitei. Rukia had initially protested, on the grounds that they would need every able-bodied man and woman in the expected conflicts. And yet, one less platoon had deployed into the world of the living. Ukitake and Kyoraku hid their knowledge of Commander Yamamoto's intentions as well as any could, but she had learned to read into her captain's silence over the years. Something more was afoot.
A sudden chill had her visibly shuddering.
Captain Ukitake skid to a halt, looking at her in concern until he felt it. "Kyoraku!" he snapped, sword clearing its sheath on his hip the next instant, eyes turning upwards. They and the trailing forces skid to a halt in midair.
With a horrible rending sound, the brilliant blue sky above them shattered.
O--O--O
"-ster. Master Ichigo?"
Ichigo blinked, coming out of his thoughts slowly. He turned to see Yin looking at him, cobalt eyes wary.
"It's time, master. We have to go."
"…Yeah."
He rose out of his crouch, noticing Harribel and her trio of fracción waiting in front of a wide garganta. Without a word he jumped in, ignoring the looks they were sending his way.
He felt…calm. More than he had ever thought possible.
I should be angry. I should be furious.
But a colder part of him saw the logic in Aizen's plan. The man had told him that saving the world would have a cost, would require sacrifice. Memories not his own flashed through his mind; hundreds, thousands of lives that had been given for the greater good over a thousand lifetimes. Blood shed for a higher purpose. Each one given to achieve something more, something right.
He was by no means the first to have to do something like this, he knew that. It didn't make it any easier to accept. So as they ran through the abyss he methodically locked each painful thought away, each agonizing realization and fiber of his being that denied what needed to be achieved.
When it was done, all that remained was deep, disturbing stillness. The invisible coal hovering in his empty chest was the only part of him that felt warm anymore.
The blackness ahead of their group crumpled, tearing open to reveal an overcast and turbulent gray expanse of clouds. The squads and groups of Shinigami could be seen far below over a widespread town, clearly moving in response to their arrival.
He looked to Harribel, who nodded once. Four more portals opened around them, dozens of Hollows led by lower-ranking Arrancar rushing out. To the sides gigantic pale fingers ruptured the sky, tugging aside reality as the massive silhouettes of Menos Grande emerged. Ichigo felt the first drops of rain fall as Harribel drew her blade, the rasp of steel setting him on edge. With a single word, she set everything in motion: "Go."
With unearthly howls their forces hurtled down, Harribel and her party darting ahead at the front. He leapt after, seeing two figures in black-and-white attire rising to meet them.
A grim sort of satisfaction rose, thawing the dreadful cold he felt the tiniest fraction. This, at least, felt right.
O--O--O
"READY YOURSELVES," Captain Komamura roared an instant before the wave of Hollows struck, booming voice echoing from inside his helmet.
Shuuhei Hisagi grimaced as the closest groups of Soul Reapers faltered under the onslaught, caving as some of the partially-masked Arrancar joined the fray.
In a blur, a maniacally laughing Hollow with bright aquamarine hair shot towards the Captain, who sent the figure tumbling away with a shout of 'Shakkaho' and an explosion of crimson energy. Five more Arrancar appeared around them immediately afterwards, Hisagi catching one barehanded strike with the swift unsheathing of his blade, flipping out of the way of the rest and using several Shunpo to gain distance. The first he saw was being occupied by Komamura, the other group all rushing his way.
No choice then, not with this many.
"Reap, Kazeshini!"
The initial burst of green spiritual pressure knocked away the closest Hollows, one with bandages fluttering off of his mask remains swearing violently as one sickle of the Shikai whirled by, gashing his pale neck. With a click of his tongue, Hisagi whipped the other over his head in an offset pattern, nearly catching another two closing in as the spiraling blades shot through the air faster than they could predict. A tug on the chain in his right hand retrieved the first blade, which he sent in an opposite and interlocking pattern, the two crisscrossing lines somehow not entangling themselves as they wove a protective net of shimmering steel around where he stood. The five Arrancar settled in a loose circle just out of range, watching closely for an opening.
Mistake.
Muscles straining, Hisagi pulled as hard as he could, abruptly sending both sickles spinning directly in line with each Hollow before they could react. With a sound like some sort of hellish saw, the leftmost blade went straight through one of the larger men, nearly cutting his thick torso in two in a gruesome spray of blood. Before the rest could scatter he used another Shunpo, appearing in the path of the right pinwheel. With an agile twist, he caught the pole of the weapon just in front of another Hollow and spun.
He landed on a nearby rooftop an instant later, the severed head falling past as he caught the first sickle easily, turning to calmly meet the incredulous stares of the remaining Arrancar above.
"Three to go."
O--O--O
Soifon watched the rush of Hollows impact their forces like a tidal wave. The initial battle lines held strong, the Eleventh Division soldiers adapting to the more organized tactics they had been drilled on admirably, turning their frontlines into a killing field. Pairs of her own men and women darted in at the flanks, picking off larger targets with flashes of steel and vanishing whenever the horde turned their way. Unfortunately, it was far from perfect. She watched as several men ventured out slightly too far; within moments each was caught, shredded in a whirlwind of teeth and bloodied claws, agonized screams ringing out.
She didn't so much as blink.
Some may have called her cold, callous, and in fact a scant few before had. But she knew those men and women taking the brunt of the assault were doing their duty. Squad Eleven was meant for these sorts of conflicts, no matter how grisly.
Her gray eyes narrowed at seeing another crack in the atmosphere to the right of the battle, a massive white foot stomping out and causing the air to shake.
"Omaeda!" she barked. "Take a squad and deal with that Menos."
The corpulent man blinked his little piggy eyes at her fearfully. "Er…don't you think we should back up Captain Zaraki?"
A glance to the side still showed the Eleventh Captain clashing with a massive dark-skinned Arrancar nearly a mile off. She could just barely hear the man laughing.
"That's the last thing we need to worry about. Get moving."
"R-right!"
Her lieutenant darted off with a speed that seemed out of place for all his bulk, followed closely by a group of her best. Her vision blurred momentarily as she blinked upwards with Shunpo several hundred feet, taking a moment to survey their progress. Madarame was still holding off a large pack of Hollows in between Zaraki and the rest with agile leaps and bounds, his own cackling also audible to her keen ears. The first Menos that had stepped out was being dealt with. Her stealth forces and Zaraki's Eleventh were working together with pleasing efficiency, chipping away at the onslaught of weaker Hollows as fast as the creatures were rushing out of their portals.
Say what you will of Zaraki and his ilk, they know their way around a battlefield.
"Now then," Soifon said aloud, turning slowly to face the white-clothed figure that had appeared nearby. "Should I give you my thanks before we start?"
The deathly pale Arrancar remained silent, the slightest raising of one thick brow the only indication he had even heard her. His dark green eyes regarded her with something she couldn't quite place. Disinterest? Apathy?
"No thanks are necessary," he finally replied, smooth voice cultured but just as devoid of emotion as his expression. "Whether you give your orders or not makes no difference."
She would have thought the man cocky, if it weren't for the clear lack of any sort of emotion in the words.
"I assume you know who I am, then."
"Captain of the Second Division, Soifon."
"Well informed. Sadly, I know nothing about you."
If the Arrancar took offense at her mocking tone, he didn't show it. "Ulquiorra Cifer. Espada Cuatro."
Espada?
Ignoring the ominous tone of the title, she tilted her head curiously, the two golden rings at the ends of her braids tapping softly against the cloth of her robes. "And what is your purpose here?"
At this the man finally shifted, slim hands leaving his pockets. "To eliminate you."
"A pity," she mused, slipping one hand back towards the hilt of her zanpakuto on her hip. "I can think of several reasons why you won't get the chance."
Soifon whipped her blade out just in time to catch his bare hand several inches away from her throat. Her eyebrows furrowed at seeing his pale skin entirely unscathed against the sharp steel.
The younger Kuchiki was right.
Cursing inwardly, she flipped herself backwards in a blinding movement, one foot smacking solidly against the helmet-like bone on his head with a thwack, twirling into another kick the opposite direction in the same motion. The man twitched his head out of the way, unfazed, flat-palmed hand once again darting her way like a knife.
They traded blows like this for several minutes, and she was both surprised and pleased that neither of their attacks had yet to draw blood. A quick glance to the ongoing battle below served to remind her of the urgency of the situation. "Sting all enemies to death," she murmured.
The Arrancar heard the words, flashing above and pointing one thin finger; a tiny orb of vivid green energy formed at its tip. Soifon went to dodge, only just realizing that if she did the technique would blast straight into her forces below.
Clever bastard.
"Suzumebachi!" she shouted, already sweeping her zanpakuto up.
An instant later Soifon flew out of the lingering blast, the arm carrying her Shikai smoking slightly from countering the force of the cero. She gingerly flexed her wrist underneath the gauntlet.
That's some power for only having charged it for a second or two…
The Hollow appeared ahead, swinging for her neck.
With grit teeth, she blurred into several simultaneous Shunpo, knowing he would still strike at her afterimage, and whipped out her Shikai as she passed.
Soifon had the great pleasure as she landed of seeing the Arrancar's cold eyes widen for the first time as the black butterfly of Nigeki Kessatsu appeared on the white fabric of his sleeve, the barest trace of red showing on the cloth below. He inspected the mark for another moment before calmly drawing his own sword. She withheld an annoyed scoff.
About damn time he started taking me seriously.
O--O--O
"Damn."
A torrent of green energy seared past, wiping away her muttered curse with the noise. Nelliel flipped away once the bulk had passed, lunging toward the Shinigami in the instant he seemed open – only to see the tip of the sword in his hand light up once more as he slashed in her direction. Another bright flash, the blast firing in an impossibly wide cone. Nel split the oncoming torrent with a vertical slash of her own, letting out a long breath as it parted around her.
For all of her decades of experience, Nelliel had never before had the opportunity to fight a captain of the Seireitei. From what she could tell of 'Generals' Ichimaru and Tousen, she estimated they should be more or less on par with the upper echelons of the Espada; as such, she had engaged the white-haired captain with all due caution. The obvious irony that the man's zanpakuto essentially took the core concept of her trademark 'Cero Doble' and enhanced it had not escaped her.
I must admit…the trick is much less amusing when on the receiving end.
She blew a distressingly singed hair out of her face, feeling a slow throb in her temple at seeing the Soul Reaper watching her calmly, white robes entirely unblemished from their battle so far.
"Would you like to try again?" he called politely, his small smile causing her to frown; it wasn't that she took offense at the comment, but the way the levity actually reached his eyes was…interesting. Either the man was being genuine, or he was an exceptional liar.
She wasn't sure which was more likely.
"No, thank you," she replied, using Sonido to appear at his back before the last syllable left her mouth. With a loud clang the man caught her blade with one of his own, the other knifing towards her stomach with an ease that spoke of long familiarity with the motion. She parried, evading the sweeping slashes and darting stabs the captain sent her way. With a deft flick of her wrist, her zanpakuto darted in between each whirling blade and up, scoring a clean cut across the Shinigami's forearm. She danced back to avoid his retaliatory sweep that shaved off several trailing hairs. Taking a moment, the man examined the wound with some surprise before sending a critical eye at her. She simply assumed her stance again, raising one brow.
"It's been some time since anything but my own condition took a toll on my body, and even longer than that with such skill," he said, falling into an easy pose with both interlinked weapons hanging at his sides. "Might I ask your name?"
Well, he has been polite so far.
"Nelliel tu Odelschwanck. I am the Seventh Espada."
He nodded genially. "Jushiro Ukitake, captain of Squad Thirteen. It's a pleasure to meet you, miss…" The captain paused, a difficult expression passing over his features. "I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but I'm not sure I can pronounce your last name."
Nel felt her lips twitch up despite herself at the apologetic smile he sent her way.
"None taken. However, I'm not sure this is the time for casual discussion."
He blinked, glancing around. In the far distance the forces of the Seireitei and Hueco Mundo were clashing in a seeming stalemate, no side gaining any apparent advantage. Further away the silhouettes of Starrk and the other captain could be seen darting in at each other sporadically. On the opposite side of them, she could faintly sense Pesche and Dondochakka engaging who she could only assume was the lieutenant of the Thirteenth Division, the familiar sensation of their spiritual energy clearly indicating she was Ichigo's temporary captive from before.
"I suppose not," Ukitake mused, face turning somber.
Nel kept any surprise carefully off of her features. Seeming cheer and charm to offset an opponent in battle was no foreign concept; she knew Pesche after all, and this was not the same.
She sighed lightly, feeling a slight stirring of discontent in her gut. "Unfortunately, with that being said," she continued, raising her guard once more, "it seems that we each have our tasks."
The sorrowful look she received from the captain's green eyes would have been discomforting had she not slipped back into the cool trance of combat. The tips of his twin blades rose, his own expression settling into a similar mask-like stillness. Nel let her reiatsu rise, lifting her zanpakuto swiftly.
She supposed that it would only be polite at this point to match the captain's sword release with her own.
O--O--O
The Soul Reaper managed to get out a strangled sort of scream as the whip of Yin's zanpakuto snapped into place around his neck. With an easy motion she swung the man like the world's most rudimentary flail, smashing him into a cluster of four other Shinigami. Channeling her reiatsu into the weapon, she sent a surge of electricity racing along the pale length of cable, and with a satisfying sound the group detonated.
Yang swiveled smoothly around to her back, her own needle-like zanpakuto having ignited into a solid blade of roiling flame. With several rapid sweeps the red-haired woman sent out raging waves of fire that immolated a dozen more enemy soldiers before they scattered.
An angry roar sounded from above, the spiky-haired Shinigami lieutenant they had been fighting leaping into the air, multi-bladed weapon sweeping for them in his fury.
The sisters grew matching smirks; this wasn't the first time the tattooed man had tried something similar, as evidenced by the burns and charred remains of his uniform still barely clinging to the mans – also elaborately tattooed – torso. They both parted with a single long step away from each other, the man's Shikai soaring through the empty space. More Shinigami appeared in a circle around them as they shifted.
In perfect synchronicity Yin dipped down, Yang jumping above. The blue twin spun her whip around in a balletic movement, sparks crackling off before a larger surge of power pulsed through it, sending bolts of lightning darting into the rain and branching out unpredictably. The few survivors scrambled away; the rest joined the torrential downpour, charred bodies crumbling. At the same moment, the red-haired woman thrust her weapon up towards the descending lieutenant, a massive fireball ballooning out from the existing 'blade'. They heard the man curse filthily as he vanished with the soft noise of a shunpo, the technique detonating a split-second later.
"I don't know, sis," Yang laughed casually, watching the Shinigami landing heavily a short distance away. "I expected more from the 'best' the Seireitei has to offer, didn't you?"
Yin shot a cautioning glance at her younger sibling even as they darted to the side to avoid another group attack. Narrowly avoiding an exploding spell from one woman, Yin retracted her weapon into its needle-like form, exchanging a rapid series of blows with a more nimble Soul Reaper – up until the moment his comrade tried to jump her from behind. She spun her wrist, flipping the grip on her own blade in a parry as she whirled once again, the fingers on her other hand almost daintily coming to rest on the ambushing Shinigami's chest. Her power flared, a faint sizzle was heard, and the man was flung away like a shot from a cannon, trailing blood and steam. The first snarled something rather rude at the sight and lunged forwards only for her to spin past in a blur, a backhanded swing lodging her needle in his skull with the gruesome sound of wood being split.
She removed her blade from the corpse just in time to see Yang also finishing off another group of her own, most of the poor souls trailing smoke like so many meteors as they fell from the sky. The last one to survive only did so for a brief few seconds after Yin turned to look, the sudden reigniting of the crimson-haired woman's weapon extending to several feet past what the man had expected. His body tumbled down to join the rest, the gaping wound across his throat perfectly cauterized.
A glance to the side showed the serious-faced captain still clashing with their own master, lady Harribel and her retinue dealing with another division several miles off. Even from this distance, they could see the Tres Bestias laying waste to the amassed Shinigami with ease.
Yin smiled despite herself, wiping rain off her brow and trading a look with her sister, who was now openly smirking; the rest of the opposing forces nearby were swiftly retreating.
"Well, Lieutenant," said calmly, turning back to the sodden figure of the crimson-haired Soul Reaper staggering to his feet. "It seems you are all that remains."
Without another word the sisters closed in. Her whip snapped past the man's cheek as he leapt up and over, narrowly avoiding a wave of flames as he flipped in midair. He smacked away Yang's fiery stabs as she caught him upon landing, gaining more distance with some amount of effort. Once there his segmented blade hurtled out with the harsh rasp of steel; Yin leapt high this time, Yang darting low under the deadly arc of metal. Knowing his mobility was hindered some by the unwieldy nature of his zanpakuto Yin spun her own whip, gathering power before snapping it out and unleashing two whirling balls of electricity like a bola. Yang vanished from where she was sprinting as a second sweep from the Shinigami cut towards her, reappearing behind and hurling a fireball of her own.
The two projectiles collided with a muffled explosion, the Soul Reaper tumbling out of the smoke with small tongues of flame flickering across his clothes. Yin saw the man subtly glance to her right to where their leaders still battled, grunting as he yet again rose to his feet.
Tenacious, I'll give him that.
She and Yang fell into a comfortable rhythm of darting lunges and synchronized movements, keeping the man constantly off balance. Slowly but surely, they whittled him down until more of his body was covered by his own blood than the tattoos.
Finally, he managed to throw the two away in a surge of desperate strength, laboring for breath – and began to laugh, a pained, deeply amused sound.
"The funny thing about being the last one here," he gasped out, "is that I'm not. My commanding officer is just a bastard like that."
Before they could react to the odd statement the man sucked in a huge breath before bellowing "NOW, CAPTAIN!" and kicking himself backwards.
With a sound like some angry god, a pink tidal wave of what looked like flower petals erupted behind him in a wide arc, carefully avoiding the falling man and bearing down on the women from all sides in an instant.
They heard a roar just before impact, terror freezing them in place as the air billowed violently – but they were untouched. Yin opened her eyes to meet a furious yellow stare, swallowing nervously as she beheld Ichigo shielding them from the attack with his own body, massive sword in one hand chipped and cracked, his form bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts even as the wounds vanished and the petal blossoms swept away. They gathered in an ominously swirling cloud around the captain from before, who stood unscathed a mere hundred feet away instead of the miles further they had thought.
They had been tricked.
"Get back," Their master hissed, and they were only too willing to flee as they saw him turn and bark out one more command.
"Run wild: Locura!"
O--O--O
--Soul Society, the Seireitei--
Looking over the live displays from the battlefields, Captain-Commander Yamamoto's brow furrowed. Every division under his command had trained well, that was undeniable…but it had not been enough.
The rank-and-file soldiers could handle the swarms of lowlier Hollows, but as soon as even the weakest Arrancar intervened his forces crumpled. Casualties from nearly every division kept rising, with the enemy suffering only minor losses so far. To his chagrin, he could neither truly justify holding the two divisions devoid of captains in reserve, nor believe that they could have made much of a difference regardless. The seated officers, on the other hand, were holding their own admirably; some better than others, to be sure, but already some of the battles were shifting in their favor.
A slight sound from behind had the aged man turning slightly; another of the Seireitei's scouts had appeared, the angular wooden shade they wore covering this ones face entirely as they knelt. Yamamoto waited for the report for several moments before his eyes narrowed, inspecting the figure carefully. A deep male voice spoke.
"Figures you would be the one to notice," it said, the figure rising out of its crouch smoothly as the words pitched upwards, resolving into a low, husky, but determinedly feminine tone. The rest of the uniform shifted, soft curves appearing underneath where before there were none. Sharp golden eyes glinted out from under the visor, dark skin framed by delicate locks of black hair.
The commander's stare widened ever so slightly. "Yoruichi Shihoin."
The slender woman removed the headpiece with a deft hand, smiling fondly. "Genryusai. You look well."
The commander met her eyes with a respectable amount of caution; her exodus from the Soul Society all those years ago was well known the older members of the Court Guard Squad. She had neither been exiled or outlawed in any regard, primarily due to her status as the head of one of the four noble families, as well as – at the time – captain of the Second Division. As far as legality was concerned, she was in a gray area.
"Why are you here?" he probed; his own opinions on the subject did not matter, not now.
Yoruichi's smile faded.
"With the current…situation," she said delicately, "there's someone who needed to speak with you." She nodded down to two small black spheres sitting on the floor that he hadn't noticed. A slight hum and light erupted from each, forming a hazy, transparent circle of blue in the air between them. After a moment the image settled, and a man he hadn't seen in over a hundred years appeared.
"…Kisuke Urahara."
"Captain Commander," the other Shinigami replied respectfully, tipping the brim of his odd hat. Those ever-sharp eyes peered at him under its shade, and a faint feeling of nostalgia for older times passed over Yamamoto.
"I apologize for interrupting during your operations," the former captain continued, "but with how things stand, I can't just sit idly by."
Part of the old Soul Reaper was displeased that the exile clearly knew of current events in the Seireitei so well, but he quelled any discontent before it showed.
"So be it," he stated. "I can only assume there is a reason for your reemergence."
"Yes." A glimmer of something unknown flashed in the other's eyes. "I must ask, Commander: does the word 'Hogyoku' mean anything to you?"
O--O--O
--The Human World--
Byakuya Kuchiki dove to one side, the petals of Senbonzakura guarding him rippling to the sides at another vicious impact, the white-robed silhouette of the Arrancar ripping through in a blur the next instant. An exertion of will had the rest of his zanpakuto collapsing into an orb around the boy, the pink-tinted cloud swirling rapidly as it closed in. A maniacal cackle emanated from inside, another detonation of crimson scattering the cloud, and his enemy appeared out of the smoke just in time for a flash of lightning to light up the area like day.
With the failed attempt to eliminate the two Arrancar women earlier, the head of the noble Kuchiki house had witnessed two things he had previously believed impossible; a Hollow putting itself at risk to protect another being, and what appeared to be a zanpakuto release that somehow did not change the actual weapon itself. With the transformation he had personally watched the cracks in the oversized blade vanish before it was sheathed once more, and he was immediately forced to admit that the creature he now faced was infinitely more dangerous for it.
The piece of bone on his temple had re-formed into a curving expanse over the top of the head while leaving the face uncovered, two distinctly-angled horns spiking forwards aggressively. The shock of orange hair underneath had lengthened with it, protruding out at the back of his nape. Pale skin had lightened further into a distinctly inhuman shade of white, while curving lines of black had appeared in an angular helix down his exposed arms, terminating in a loop on both the back of the hands and the rounded skin of his shoulders. The clothing that the boy wore had…extended, for lack of a better explanation; the white vest remained sleeveless, while the bottom had lengthened into a ragged-edged coat trimmed in vivid red sweeping around his ankles. To complete the change his eyes now glowed with an unnatural light, the surrounding sclera having turned an inky black.
The overall impression was made even more unsettling by the toothy, too-wide grin and chilling laughter that he erupted with seemingly at random.
To add to his troubles, the Arrancar seemed to know exactly when he was going to release his Bankai; the tiniest fluctuation of his spiritual pressure had the Hollow reacting with unbelievable speed. Any time he prepared a Kido the other was already evading, and the two times he had been ready to release his zanpakuto again Byakuya had found himself buried under a blinding assault before he could try.
The captain formed a glowing sword out of his Shikai as the Arrancar darted in again, parrying one jarring impact and stabbing for the man's neck in the same motion. In a blur one pale hand snatched it away, jagged black claws forming on each fingertip as he crushed the blade back into separate petals with a deft twist, vanishing as the rest of Senbonzakura swept in from the side.
Byakuya turned calmly to watch the Arrancar land a short distance away, meeting the other's gleeful expression with a calm mask of his own.
Even one misstep would decide his fate.
O--O--O
Heaving one last weary breath, Renji cast a searching look up into the rain and clouds far above, Shikai held cautiously at his side.
Those Arrancar girls have to still be up there somewhere…no way I'm that lucky.
With Captain Kuchiki's intervention and his own subsequent retreat to the suburbs below, he had lost track of the two matching women – to his relief and irritation both. He knew that he couldn't win against the pair, he had realized that only too quickly.
But that was also the part that infuriated him.
A colossal noise from above had his eyes darting to where Captain Kuchiki was clashing against the horned Arrancar, prompting another surge of anger before he quenched it.
That might be the one who captured Rukia…but it's also the one that let her go. Don't be an idiot.
Renji felt a small chill run down his spine at the sensation of the Hollow's enormous reiatsu even with how far away he was. Shaking himself, he wiped the rain out of his eyes and stared back up, scanning methodically.
He didn't envy his captain in fighting that monster.
O--O--O
Jump.
Ichigo leapt up, narrowly avoiding another wave of shimmering pink blades.
Attack.
He lunged forward, his claws skittering off of an artful parry from the Shinigami with a shower of sparks.
Dodge.
He blurred into a Sonido, appearing behind and scoring a glancing blow on the man's shoulder. A laugh bubbled up from some deep place in his chest, echoing in the night.
Part of his mind knew something was off, but he didn't care. What was the point of it, when all that having a clear head did for him was hurt?
So he let instinct guide his hands, the thoughts barely appearing in his mind before he was moving.
And in the end, this is so much more FUN.
Ichigo laughed at the thought, barely realizing he had allowed the Soul Reaper too much time; already gigantic blades were appearing from midair around the Shinigami, a huge surge of spiritual pressure washing over him.
It only sharpened the hunger that was gnawing at his core, and Ichigo bared his teeth in a savage smile.
This is better…right?