Life and Death IV

A symphony of sorrow woke her from her bitter dreams. Rukia lifted her head as high as she could and stared up at the two Kurosaki siblings, locked in a heartfelt embrace. A relieved smile crossed her lips as hope coursed through her veins, instilling the will to fight on.

The bullets that had rained down upon her left ruptured wounds across her back, preventing her from standing. She wished to cry out and speak with Ichigo as she used to, but her throat was hoarse.

Instead the resigned herself to watch as the two melted into each other and wept, drowning their sins, agony and sorrow in the comforting presence of the other.

There will be a future for us all...A destiny to be carved by our own hands. We need no hand of God when we have ourselves! Together we will shape a new world and bring the light back to this darkened place. Even if it kills us, we will make the sun rise for another day!

"Fight on! We are the sword to protect the living from the dead! We shall carve a path for mankind to follow!" Kommamura's great roar echoed across the battlefield, rising over the chorus of screams and cries from the brave shinigami who fell against the grey tide.

His giant frame and sword stood out amongst the mountain of corpses, the blood drenched through his coarse fur and painted slick upon his blade serving as a decoration, a beacon for the living to keep fighting. Over the din he continued to encourage those who survived, "Stand tall! Stand forever strong against this accursed horde! The living will survive and the dead shall dead remain!"

More screams. A rumbling murmur from the dead, a grating snarl rising in volume as more and more ghouls flooded the gates like the maggots festering upon their rotting flesh.

The battle raged on, even as the bravest of warriors succumbed.

Iba cut down a swathe of the shambling corpses, his blade slicing through their skulls as a knife through water. As the bodies piled up around him his energy drained, the fervour of his attack slipping away as the hours dragged on. Even when his katana grew too heavy, he drew a tanto from his coat, using the smaller blade against the foe.

Soaked in gore and filth he fought on, even as they tore through his flesh with their decayed black fangs. Even as their pus-drenched lips closed over the wounds, spreading their disease, he cut them down. He let out a defiant roar to his very last, a request to those who fought beside him.

Ikkaku Madarame heard the call and with a heavy heart and stone-faced smile rushed to his comrade's side.

Decimating the ring of ghouls around him and clearing a path, Ikkaku glanced down at his long-time friend.

"Ha!" Iba snorted, "I knew it would be you..."

Ikkaku pointed his sword at him and grinned, "Looks like our days of fighting will finally come to an end. Does this mean I win?"

"No," Iba groaned, the virus spreading through his veins, blue vines sprouting on his cheeks, "It means you got lucky, you son of a bitch!" He tried to laugh, only to cough up blood.

The dead began to close in once again.

Ikkaku bowed to his friend and leapt high into the air.

Iba let out a dry, painful chuckle, "Be glad...For once you get to take the high ground..."

Just as his eyes closed and his heart shut down, Ikkaku's sword sliced through the top of his skull, cleaving through bone and making mincemeat of his brain. Drawing the blade free, coated in grey matter and gibbets of flesh, Iba's body flopped to one side. Dead, but never to turn.

An honourable death.

A growl from behind. The gnashing of deformed jaws. The cold stare of hungry eyes, blank as frosted glass yet all too expressive of their thirst for blood.

Ikkaku glared at them, the hungry dead that had robbed him of his captain, his friends and his comrades. His life had been destroyed, all by the hungry dead. It was their fault, all of it. They would pay!

With a fierce battle cry Ikkaku rushed into their ranks, using his own weight to barrel through them and make his way to the centre, then with arms outstretched spun in a wild circle, his blade slicing through flesh on one side, scabbard breaking bones and shattering skulls on the other. Whirling about in wide arcs he broke them down on all sides leaving nothing but human debris in his wake.

Unfortunately, not all who had been downed were slain.

Preoccupied with those still on their feet and too drunk on his own rage, Ikkaku never noticed them slithering around his feet, sinking their teeth in and taking away chunks of meat, exposing bone to the open air.

With a piercing cry Ikkaku collapsed to the ground, furiously swatting away the ghouls that crawled over him. Drowning under an ocean of red and grey, he screamed and screamed, his voice carrying to the others even to the final strangled gasp before his throat was torn away. His head hung to one side, eyes blank as leathery hands probed at his stomach, jagged and broken nails digging through layers of skin and fat to reach the delicacies locked within.

As the swarm fought over their meal the body was strung up, innards spilling out into the cupped hands of the beggars below, crawling on cracked and broken limbs to reach their prey. An arm disappeared into the crowd, a leg stripped to the bone, bleached white in the light of the sun. One cheek torn away exposing gums and gristle. An eye rolling from its socket, jangling almost comically as the body was shaken like a ragdoll. The unholy prize in a game of tug-of-war.

"Damn it! Soi Fon?! We cannot hold! Hurry!" Kommamura roared over the chaos, trying to spur on the dwindling numbers of troops.

A loud whistle pierced the air and alerted those still locked in battle. It was the signal they had been waiting for. Kommamura bellowed through aching lungs, "RETREAT!"

The shinigami flash stepped out of sight, or at least those that could. Not all escaped with their lives. Some tried to flee, running as fast as they could, only to be snagged on human thorns and dragged back to their doom. Others remained trapped, unable to escape, resigning themselves to death, fighting on to the very last breath.

Though the front flanks began to divide in search of the missing prey, the vast majority remained around the gateway, shuffling aimlessly, content with their feast thus far.

Soi Fon stood some distance away, a mighty weapon held in her hands, a solid mass of steel glowing with otherworldly light, aimed directly at the undead horde. The exhausted captain lined up her shot and shouted to her foe, "Bankai! Jakuho Raikoben!"

A golden missile soared across the barren battlefield, a piercing whine as the fins sliced through the air. A dense mist formed around its head, the air torn apart by its rapid flight. The dead barely gave the incoming missile a second glance, more interested in flesh and blood.

A mighty explosion rocked the very earth as the horde vanished behind thirsty tongues of flame which towered to the sky. An orange haze hung over the battlefield amidst the hiss of falling debris, some of it borne of skin and bone. A burning pit of death and destruction emanating from the blast zone, blackened skeletons and oceans of boiled blood now all that was left of the swarm.

A triumphant cry billowed out from the remaining shinigami at the gate, now returning to the front-line to dispatch those who had managed to escape the explosion.

Captain Kommamura thrust his sword to the heavens and roared, "Bankai, Kokujo Tengen Myo-o!"

From the earth arose a golem of immense size. A giant to stand with his head among the clouds. Following the movements of the captain's hands, the giant seized the gate and dragged it into place once more, shutting out the rest of the undead horde. Even as the gate slid into place in the crater left by Soi Fon's bankai, the gate still towered over them all, almost as tall as Kommamura's golem.

Sealing the great weapons, the two captains joined the remaining troops on the battlefield to slay the last of the undead who had dared to enter Sereitei.

With only a threadbare number of stragglers, the dead stood no chance and were efficiently destroyed.

And when at last the undead had been purged from Sereitei, songs of victory rang out amongst all those present. Triumphant roars and exultant cries melded together in a chorus of well-earned joy. A cease to the bitter struggle for existence, at least for now.

Those that remained had survived to fight another day and that was victory enough.

The battle had been won on the frontlines, even as the chaos continued deep within the heart of Soul Society. But with the main force subdued the faint flicker of hope within each man's heart grew far stronger. No longer a flicker, but a radiant glow ready to be seized...

The future awaited those who had survived the massacre but in the moments of peace came the grim task of burying the dead and honouring the brave souls who had fallen.

The songs of victory reached Ukitake's ears even while locked underground with his worst enemy, Mayuri Kurotsuchi, swords locked together amid rains of sparks. The captain commander's eyes flickered with relief at the sound and a suitable expression of disgust afflicted the madman's deformed face.

"Hear that Mayuri? We've conquered your 'trials' and beaten back the undead! Your army is in ruins and you are also reaching your limit. Quit this stupid game of yours and end this madness!"

"Never!" Mayuri spat, "I still have my Adam. With a suitable Eve I can still-"

"It's over, Mayuri."

Both men turned to see Ichigo descend into the laboratory, a bullet-hole in his chest and a fiercely determined scowl on his face.

"Kurosaki!"

Ichigo shook his head, "I'm not your toy. You can't just play with human lives and call yourself god!"

With a grinding curse Mayuri escaped from the deadlock and backed up into a corner, eyeing his rebellious specimen. With the other ace up his sleeve now subdued it seemed there really was little left to salvage his mission. But surrender was not an option and neither was defeat.

Besides...There was still one last card to play...

All or nothing...

Mayuri unleashed a kido blast aimed directly at the ground at his opponent's feet and in the ensuing cloud of dust and debris vanished with his well-honed shunpo. Ichigo hadn't even registered Mayuri's presence until the needle was embedded deep in his arm.

A flood of viscous red flowed into the chamber of the syringe and in the moment of Ichigo's attempts to swat him away, Mayuri jumped backwards, landing with the syringe now poised above his own arm.

"Argh! What was that?!" Ichigo snapped irritably, staring between the madman and the oozing wound on his forearm.

Mayuri laughed, a raspy crackling howl that echoed throughout the chamber. With eyes alight as fire and a fiendish grin on his lipless face, Mayuri appeared more terrifying than ever.

"You think you've destroyed my last supply of the virus after blowing up that vial don't you? How foolish! You think I would only store one flask of something so precious?!" His smile then became hideous, a mockery of the expression, "Why carry vials of it when I can have it on-tap at my own behest?"

Ukitake's gaze drifted to the Kurosaki boy. "You don't mean...?"

"The most perfectly crafted strain of the virus flows freely through that child's veins! His very blood is the essence with which to reshape this world and its pathetic species! I did not designate him the Adam of the new world without good reason. It is because he is blood of the perfect being. The Kuchiki girl, she was to be his Eve, the flesh to inherit his seed, to create a new race borne through their combined flesh and blood. Their offspring would have been immortal, as close to gods as is humanly possible. Beings of such transcendent power, to rebuild this world run by the weak!"

Ichigo's eyes widened in shock, "You mean...As long as I'm alive the virus can still spread?"

Mayuri's eyes glinted like sharpened steel, "Naturally. My plan was to have woken you both together in a healthy state and left you alone. I've observed the bond you shared as you fought against my creations. If you had found each other alive and healthy after your preconceived deaths, passions would have naturally ignited. It wouldn't have taken long for mating to occur and thus the next generation of mankind would be born!"

"You sick bastard! I'll kill you!" Ichigo roared, barely managing to restrain himself. Ukitake held him back with a hand to the shoulder, a signal to stay sharp.

Mayuri sighed, "Unfortunately, the Kuchiki girl lacked a certain essence when I resurrected her. Her mind was too strong. I needed her mind and spirit to be more malleable with which to mould her into a fitting mother of the greater species. Defiant to the last I disposed of her, but I must say she's managed well to crawl back to the heavens to face me. And so too do you defy me, Kurosaki. But thankfully you managed to complete your final mission before your mutiny. You've put that Kuchiki girl and the American out of my mind. For that I give my thanks."

"You son of a-"

"Ichigo!" Ukitake held him back, his voice calm as the ocean. Turning back to the foe he addressed him in a cold tone, "Mayuri...What are you going to do with that needle?"

The madman smirked, "Oh this? Well you should be aware of the effects of the virus by now. This perfected strain grants it's host's enhanced physical abilities, strengthening the body while also limiting the neural response to external phenomena. In short, by sealing off the nervous system all of the body's energy is expended elsewhere, thus heightening speed, strength and agility. By sacrificing unnecessary body functions the core mechanics of survival are concentrated and bolstered by the virus."

Ukitake frowned, concerned at the implications of the explanation.

"You always said I was the weakest fighter amongst the captains didn't you Ukitake? But I wonder..." Before they could act, the needle burrowed deep into a throbbing vein on his arm, the plunger dropping, the chamber emptying of blood leaving only sickly residue inside the transparent plastic. With a grating laugh, Mayuri threw his head back and howled.

Vines of blue sprouted within the patches of painted white flesh, veins bulging and protruding as Ichigo's infected blood coursed through him, spreading the poison. All traces of his spiritual pressure dropped and then vanished.

The laughter ceased, as did all movements across his mutilated body. He rocked forward and collapsed.

Dead.

Hesitant, Ukitake stepped forward, standing over the body with a sad frown. "It killed kim?" he looked back to Ichigo, his inquisitive stare asking for some kind of explanation. From his own stupefied expression it was clear that neither understood the sudden turn of events. Mayuri had been so confident and yet he succumbed instantly to his own poison. The two stood stunned in the wreckage of the laboratory struggling to come to grips with Mayuri's odd demise.

Then he felt it, a cold hand grasping his leg, bony fingers winding around like coiled serpents. With unnatural strength he was dragged down to the ground, brought face to face with the monster.

Death was only the beginning of something far more terrifying...A sudden end to bring about a new beginning...The next nightmare, the next trial for humanity's future...

A dry rasping laugh streamed from his cruel smile, drifting as mist toward the others. Mayuri's eyes no longer shone with murderous glee or voracious loathing. There was no colour at all.

Just empty soulless grey...

Where are you guys? I'm wandering around in the dark without any reviews. It's helps a great to deal to know what you readers think so please review!