Date written: 06/11/09 – 15/12/09

Posted on FanFiction: 21/12/09

A/N: Pissed at last chapter's cliffhanger, and that I'm still leaving all of you hanging? Well, I've put myself in quite the bind with that last chapter. I wanted it to be perfect, and there was also the lingering feeling that I'm biting more than I can chew with what I'm leading with the confrontation of the new enemy and Orihime's getting stabbed. It will surely complicate some matters (thankfully not all). Anyway, I want to give more of an insight on what was happening outside the school while Orihime was using the Shun Shun Rika for the first time. Even in a decisive battle, the outside world revolves and progresses since time waits for no one. Don't worry, readers, everything will connect, I assure you.

So in the meantime, the perspective has reverted back to Ichigo and Uryuu. Time for some swashbuckling action, Strawberry-style.

--- CHAPTER 19 ---

Archer & Swordsman: Act II

Adrenaline pumped into his system the moment he felt the presence of multiple Hollows phasing into Karakura. Many of them were low-level, but that was more than enough to crush even the strongest human in the city. And that worried Ichigo to no end. That bastard four-eyes expected only the two of them to keep this city safe when it was at least a twenty to one battle?

The crack in the sky was foreboding. He didn't like the feel of it. Narrowing his eyes, he was able to point out at least five small dots dripping out of the crevice. If those were what he thought they were, then it was time to get busy.

A blue arrow soared through the sky.

"The contest has already started, shinigami," Ishida said, his Celtic cross chained around his right wrist and the Quincy bow glowing a brilliant sky blue. "One down."

Ichigo cursed, and with the swift unsheathing of his blade, he slashed his zanpakuto horizontally in a half-circle pattern. By the end of the slash, he hit a thin-looking Hollow that was stalking behind him. He didn't get a good look of the white mask because it was already disintegrating before he put his attention on another Hollow that was behind the first one.

He side-stepped to the left, his sword parallel to his legs. He twisted his wrist, placing the sharp edge of his zanpakuto to the front, and when the Hollow lunged at his former position, he pulled the large blade up and then slashed it down with all his strength. The weight of the zanpakuto added the overall power of the attack. The Hollow's mask shattered.

"Two down," Ichigo said.

"Four," Ishida said nonchalantly. He shifted to the left and launched two arrows in rapid succession. "Make that six."

The coast was clear for now. But Ishida was a natural long-range fighter, so even Hollows far away would have no defense against the barrage of arrows he was sending their way. However, Ichigo had had enough of this game. Even though it barely started, he just couldn't concentrate when the lives of the people of Karakura were in danger. He could handle a Hollow or two, but a whole city full of them was beyond his abilities.

Ichigo ran to Ishida, grabbed him by the collar, and shouted, "Stop this now!"

Ishida adjusted his glasses, which were disheveled when Ichigo pulled his face near his own. "Too late. Once the bait has been set, there is no turning back."

"I don't care. Just do something, dammit!"

"I am. While you aren't."

"Don't go smart-ass on me, bastard." Ichigo took a deep breath, and said, "If anyone dies today, I will personally put you at fault."

"Hmph." Ishida slapped the shinigami's hand away, and then fixed his collar. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hollows often attack their own family members. But if a bigger prey is in their vicinity—say, a person with a large supply of spiritual energy—what do you think will those animals do?"

An image of Orihime in peril rushed through his thoughts. "No!"

He dashed towards the school, hoping that Orihime was waiting for Tatsuki to finish up her club activities. A crowd of Hollows blocked his way, but he didn't care. He hacked and slashed, hacked and slashed, over and over. He didn't count how much he killed this time; the competition was in the backburner. All he could think about and worry about was Orihime and her potent spiritual presence alerting many of the Hollows in the vicinity.

He turned a corner, still far away from the school but surely gaining progress, and saw two kids playing in the middle of the street . . . and a giant Hollow stalking them. The two kids, one boy and one girl, probably twins if their similar appearances were anything to go by, were blissfully unaware of the cat-like Hollow wagging its long tail left and right as if reveling in anticipation of the pounce. Ichigo saw it lick its lips—muzzle, actually—and grind its claws on the street's pavement. The two were too busy playing catch to notice some part of the ground beside them was forming deep scratches. And Ichigo instinctively knew that it was ready to pounce on the twins.

He didn't want to waste time; he didn't want to get distracted and learn that it would be too late to save Orihime. But the will to protect the people of the town overwhelmed his thoughts of Orihime. He couldn't just stand idly by and let those two children suffer because he had more important agendas. He was 'one who protects.' And by God he would protect them.

Without thinking straight, Ichigo threw his zanpakuto like a javelin. And as it traveled in the air, thousands of thoughts sprung in his mind—

It's not gonna hit it. I didn't aim.

What the hell did you do?! That was your only weapon to defend those kids!

It's gonna miss! It's gonna miss!

You blew it, Ichigo. You fucking blew it.

But . . .

Come on, come on, come on . . .

Hit the Hollow!

It won't.

Hit the Hollow!

Hit the Hollow!!

HIT THE HOLLOW!!!

The zanpakuto missed, passing the Hollow-cat and embedding itself onto the wall at the L-intersection.

"SHIT!"

"Fifty-three," he announced out of habit, his presence pervading great determination to his task, his mission. He pulled the ring back again, firing yet another reishi-concentrated arrow towards an unsuspecting Hollow. "Fifty-four."

The competition had started over ten minutes ago, and Uryuu was already making record hits over his kills. This was something to be proud about. But with the current situation, gloating was the least thing that would come to his mind. Simply put, he had been trying to eliminate the Hollow threat in one small area that was twenty times smaller than the city of Karakura, but the numbers of the white-masked beasts had not diminished during his killing spree. Picking Hollows left and right was fairly easy, as long as he had the amount of reishi needed to shoot down each and every one of them.

However, Uryuu felt that his current strength was not enough to even put a dent on the oncoming onslaught of Hollows invading Karakura. For every Hollow he shot down, two more were probably crawling out of that crack in the sky.

Then his eyes widened. The crack . . . it looked bigger than when he last saw it.

Something's wrong, he thought. He pulled back the chained ring, turned around, and fired. I shouldn't get distracted. I almost got attacked. Damn it! Now I lost count.

That didn't really matter, though. He could just start again. Kurosaki was so incompetent that Uryuu wouldn't be surprised if he won with an additional digit to his body count.

He readied his bow once more, and began firing his arrows in rapid succession. Hollows of all shapes and sizes were descending upon the city like a raging, dark firestorm. The benevolent crack in the sky was widening within minutes. Uryuu had a bad feeling rising at the pit of his stomach whenever he glanced at it. For some reason, he began to realize that maybe using that Hollow bait on the populous was a bad idea.

Bu he shook it off. That would mean that Kurosaki was right, and he didn't want to admit defeat.

When he changed areas, he quickly made his position in the middle of a deserted overpass. That was good. He didn't want any normal human watching him pull a ring next to his shoulder over and over as if practicing archery with an imaginary bow. He still had his pride.

He found his target, crouching low, anticipating a couple walking towards its vantage point. Uryuu slowly took aim, honing the skills he had perfected even with the hindrance of his shortsightedness. All it took was the intent to hit where he wanted the arrow to hit. The arrow was a part of him, a part of his soul. He could even pierce the heart of a pigeon flying five miles away if he put his whole intent on it.

He released his arrow, and concentration was momentarily lost when he felt something prick his forefinger. The arrow didn't hit the Hollow's mask, but it did hit its chest. Without time to lose, Uryuu fired another arrow, the pain in his finger temporarily lost. The second arrow hit the Hollow in the mask, completely destroying it.

There was blood on Uryuu's left forefinger. It was a minor cut but enough to cause some alarm. He had gotten cuts on his fingers before; the training regime he had created for himself was rigorous as well as tiring. A medieval archer was known to be a master of stillness with his hands and to train their eyes in calculating the final destination of their long-range trajectory. And from the findings he had found in his grandfather's book collection, the Quincy took their archer mastery one step forward, creating more intricate training exercises that refine a novice with little time wasted. This gave Uryuu precision with his eyes—the eyes of a hawk—and statue-like stillness and precision with his body, though they were far from perfect. Nobody was there to supervise his training, so he had to make due to correcting his own mistakes. It was during those many training exercises that his fingers were overworked, so to speak.

Reishi condensed into the arrows of the Quincy requires minimal power to create, and there has been some cases where a well-trained Quincy can amplify the amount of reishi he puts in, making the arrow much more potent. But with gradual increase of power comes with a price. Excessive use of the upgraded arrows leaves the spiritual archer with a bleeding hand and chronic finger spasms. The same effect happens to ordinary reishi arrows, but with longer usage before bleeding and lesser consequences (calluses and shallow cuts).

Looking at the small cut on his finger, Uryuu narrowed his eyes and paid it no heed. A small sacrifice for the safety of the city. He was not worried about the overuse and the consequences that might lead to. All that was in his mind was to destroy every last Hollow.

With renewed determination, Uryuu continued shooting.

"Where are we going?" Rukia asked as she struggled to keep up with the others. They were running through the streets without stopping for anything, except for any Hollows that need vanquishing.

"Karakura High School," Urahara replied.

"Why there? According to the radar, the source of the Hollow bait is located at the southern part of Karakura. The high school is in the northeast."

"True. That is why we're splitting up."

"Eh?"

"Tessai and I will investigate the school while you, Jinta, and Ururu go find Kurosaki-san."

"What are you going to do at school?" she asked. Urahara was up to something, and even now she had no idea what it could be. She had reason to believe that wherever his destination was it seemed to be connected to the Lückenhaft somehow. Call it intuition, but Rukia liked to call it a correct guess. He hid a lot of things, even when he explained all that he could to her about these black-masked Hollows.

"Help Spaceman's legacy," Urahara said.

"Huh? Spaceman? What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter. Let's just say that it's personal business."

"Do you have any involvement with this?" she interrogated.

"No," he answered. "I'll explain my theories later. Right now we have to go."

"Wait a—"

Urahara and Tessai flash-stepped away, leaving Rukia with the two children.

"Dammit!" she cursed, glaring at the place Urahara was standing on before escaping her questions. "Oh, we're going to have a really long talk after this, Urahara," she whispered. "You better prepare for it."

Jinta, who heard Rukia's hushed statement, looked at Ururu. "Manager's a dead man, isn't he?"

Ururu could only nod.

With Rukia's vow to suck Urahara dry of all information later, the three set off on another direction, hell-bent in finding Ichigo.

While they were doing that, the man in question was currently dodging the claws of the Hollow-cat. After Ichigo had thrown his zanpakuto, stabbing it into a wall, the Hollow-cat ignored the children and set its sights on him. It seemed to be more attracted to his spiritual presence than the miniscule presence of the twins. The wise thing to do would be to retrieve the zanpakuto immediately before engaging in battle with the enemy. But luck was not on Ichigo's side. To get his hands on the zanpakuto, he would have to pass through the two children, and the Hollow-cat would subsequently follow him. There was a likely chance that the Hollow-cat had only shifted its interest towards him because he had provoked it. He had to put its attention to him again when it advanced towards the kids. This already happened twice, and Ichigo was sure that it wasn't mere coincidence. The Hollow itself was more like a white-masked drone than a talking, invisible psychopath preying on the innocent. He had enough issues with that parakeet's Hollow; he didn't want to waste his time with another one. The Hollow-cat didn't talk, didn't gloat, didn't act strategically. It had every opportunity to attack the kids which will make him move into their defense, thereby making its kill easier and simpler. But it didn't do so, and Ichigo knew why.

This Hollow-cat was not intelligent. Rather, it hadn't 'evolved' into the more intelligent Hollows he had come across. Rukia once told him that Hollows also resort to cannibalism for survival, which shinigami researchers termed 'merging.' And along with this merging is the boost of both physical and mental attributes.

Ichigo should call himself lucky than unlucky inside this situation, but his thoughts were in a jumble while weighing the pros and the cons. Orihime's safety was in the forefront. He had to think up a plan quickly before it was too late. An idea would strike him a few times, but each one would endanger the kids. Going for his zanpakuto was mostly out of the question; the Hollow was somehow indecisive about which to prey on, him or the kids. He couldn't eradicate the Hollow without his sword. He was in a real bind, wasting too much time to his liking.

When this is over, I'm going to make Rukia teach me Kidou. Having to rely solely on my sword for every encounter is disadvantageous.

The Hollow reverted back to hunting the children, which prompted Ichigo to abandon his thinking and try to provoke it again. He kicked the Hollow in the head, tipping its balance by a moment. When he landed on the ground silently, just five steps away from the kids, the Hollow-cat growled and charged. Not him. The kids.

He ran as fast as he could, straining his muscles to make it before the Hollow got too close to the children. His distraction was not enough to redirect the Hollow's attention. Even if it was a creature less intelligent than the more challenging Hollow he had defeated and sent to Hell weeks ago, he shouldn't have counted out the fact that it was still a Hollow with some intelligence. And it must have noticed his constant provocation every time it wanted to attack the smaller prey.

Defending the innocent and helpless was like an involuntary response to Ichigo's subconscious. His past of being bullied might have something to do about it, but there had to be a complete gap between saving people and sacrificing your life for other people. Ichigo didn't see the difference when it came to acting on the fly, so he only did the sensible thing when he was standing right in front of a pounce attack, courtesy of the Hollow-cat: form his arms in an X and hope that it would be enough to protect the kids.

He waited with bated breath, not for himself but for the children.

The Hollow-cat was close; it changed its pounce attack into a horizontal sweep, catching Ichigo off guard as he was given the full brunt of the blow. He skidded to his right, lying on his side, and he would've gone a lot farther if not for the wall he collided with at a T-shaped intersection. Pain shot through his back, and a crater was etched on the wall. Feeling dazed but not out, Ichigo extricated himself out of the crater, grabbing a nearby telephone pole for support. A stray thought hit him.

Just a few more feet and my spine would've hit this pole instead of the wall, he thought fearfully. That's just fucked up. And incredibly lucky. Ichigo was not certain how the difference in vitality between human and shinigami would help his spine survive if he hadn't been this lucky so far. But anyone's luck will run out one way or another.

The Hollow-cat's howl reached his ears once he stood, and what came with it was the dread. The children were looking at the crater he had formed at the wall, talking in whispers among each other, not noticing the Hollow-cat reeling its right forepaw for a fatal strike.

"NO!!!" Ichigo screamed, tensing the muscles on his legs once again. It may have been another involuntary response for Ichigo's will to protect others, but the forty-foot gap between him and the Hollow was conquered in less than a second. It was like a momentary flash of perception: one moment it was like he was miles away from his opponent, and then the next moment he was close enough to poke the Hollow-cat. Not letting this sudden burst of speed deter him from his intent, he used the garnered momentum to tackle the Hollow-cat towards the wall on the opposite side of the street, hitting it with such force that it left an even bigger crater than the first one . . . and they were barely five steps away from his zanpakuto.

Knowing that they were too far away from the kids (he didn't see it, but the children were freaked out by the second crash and ran the opposite way), Ichigo dashed to get his zanpakuto while the Hollow-cat was regaining its bearings from the tackle.

The familiar texture rubbing against the surface of his palm had a nostalgic effect, like shaking the hand of a long-lost brother he never had, and he reveled in it. He tried to pull it out of the wall, but the puncture was too deep. If he'd make a guess, he'd say that the tip of the blade might be sticking out of the other end of the wall.

The Hollow-cat hissed, its tail expanding, looking as if it had now deemed the orange-haired shinigami as a dangerous threat to its existence. The Hollow-cat began to act more on the instincts of its animal persona, taking caution on its advances and hissing and mewing loudly to unnerve its enemy. The threats present within the tone of those mews were not lost to him, and he doubled his efforts to get the damn sword out.

The Hollow prowled towards him, taking each step as slowly as if it were walking on paper-thin ice. And when Ichigo pulled out two inches of the blade, the Hollow made its move.

His eyes caught sight of the jumping Hollow, its intent primarily in tackling him; a sort of twisted revenge to what he had done. He stepped closer towards the wall, his hands firmly gripping the hilt. The Hollow went for a descending swipe of its claws, hoping to deeply scratch the shinigami's head. Ichigo ducked below the level of his zanpakuto moments before the claw hit, leaving no time for the Hollow to pull back. Sharp claws built up with the speed of the Hollow's swipe collided with the sharp edge of Ichigo's zanpakuto, the mere force of the impact pushing the blade lower.

The Hollow stepped back just as Ichigo hopped and placed his feet on the wall's side. The children were safe, the Hollow was switching to defense, and his sword's wall-prison had loosened. Orihime was still in his mind, so he had to get rid of the Hollow quick. While gravity was taking its leisure time on pulling him back to the ground, Ichigo did his own kind of pulling. With as much as effort as he could manage, his sword swooped out of the crevice and pointed towards the sky. Gravity came for him, then.

As his feet touched the ground, he wasted no time in rushing at the Hollow-cat and going for a diagonal slash. The Hollow-cat made a vain attempt in parrying his giant blade with its elongated claws, but there was more momentum on his attack than its defense. The Hollow-cat howled one final time as the cracks of its mask spread like parasitic vines.

The Hollow disintegrated into nothing.

Ichigo checked his surroundings, wanting to be sure that the coast was clear for the moment. He debated whether to glance towards the sky where the dark crack was looming down on Karakura as if it were a sign of the impending Ragnarok. He chose not to, preferring to not know at all and to let things come as they shall. It would be better that way.

Taking a deep breath, his grip on his zanpakuto tight and his direction set, he ran towards Karakura High School.

As they flash-stepped out of sight, Urahara and Tessai appeared in front of Karakura High School's gates. An air of forebode permeated their senses. The crack in the sky was more than just a mere omen for their eyes now. If it were to widen any further . . .

Urahara turned away from that line of thinking.

"Tessai, leave this to me." He pointed south. "Go get the other one."

"Are you sure, Manager?"

"Very. I have to meet Orihime's dark 'persona' face-to-face and alone."

Sensing Urahara's firm grip on his cane, Tessai replied an affirmative before flash-stepping away. He only knew little of his friend's motives about learning the truth concerning that man's daughter. Kisuke was tense, he could see that much, but there was also a fine invisible line that divided tension and resistance. In other words, if Kisuke were to be provoked by this dark 'persona,' then there would be no stopping the steady slash of Benihime. And even Tessai doubted that Orihime would survive if push turned to shove. He could hope for the best but that was it. Nothing but hope.

Urahara walked towards the courtyard, mentally counting the amount of bodies scattered around it. His attention was not deterred by this; instead, this solidified it. Something had happened in school, and even now he could feel Orihime's presence here. Something inexplicable endangered the lives of all these humans, and Orihime had been inadvertently involved. This was not good.

He approached the lone body of a girl with short, black hair. This interested him because all of the students except her were piled at the edges of the courtyard; the girl was alone at the center. She twitched. Then groaned.

Urahara walked towards her with cautious steps, the fingers on his cane anticipating any sneak attack in any direction, his lips fully prepared in shouting the name of his hidden zanpakuto. His surrounding was too quiet for his mind to settle down and think things calmly. His battle experience back during his time as a shinigami had hardened him into a powerful warrior to confront, but that didn't mean he was prone to be paranoid. He was being overly cautious because his instincts told him he should.

Standing next to the girl, who had awoken and found his presence, he asked her, "What happened?"

The girl's eyes were half-lidded, fighting to stay conscious when most of her spiritual energy seemed to have been sucked dry. There was blood on her cheeks, but it looked more like it was splashed on her face than from an injury oozing it out. It was not her blood.

Urahara heard her say something.

"What?" he asked, kneeling next to her, listening closely.

"Help her," she wheezed. She held out her clenched hand, urging Urahara to take the object she was holding. He moved his free hand under hers. She unclenched her fingers, dropping the object into the palm of the blond-haired drifter.

"This is . . ." Urahara's eyes widened in disbelief.

Two hairpins, looking like two miniature suns, were glinting on his hand.

"Misato-san . . ." These hairpins were hers. She and Spaceman created these together to protect the former; Spaceman never told him who or what Misato needed protecting from, only that it was better to be prepared. But even if his old friend was vague in his answers, Urahara already mastered how to piece together the puzzle his words were like. And it all led to one thing which had destroyed him and Misato: the Lückenhaft. Misato had been dead for sixteen years. This must be Orihime's now.

"Where is she?" he asked the girl.

"Black . . . mask . . ." she murmured before passing out.

Urahara felt like choking. "No," he forced out, sounding hoarse and dry. He controlled his emotions before they could get worse and interfere with his judgment. This was not good. Not good, indeed. It's too early for this to happen. He looked around the courtyard, observing every area for anything that could be used to fill in the gap in the picture. The presence of Orihime he had felt before was withering. So . . . she wasn't here when he arrived, and what he had felt was nothing more than the spiritual residue she left behind. But only a powerful burst of spiritual energy that could rival even a seated officer's capacity could cause something like this. Just what happened here?

Footsteps at the gate pushed him out of his musings. When he looked over his back, he saw Ichigo Kurosaki running past the gates and looking at the perimeters and the fallen students beside them.

"Are they—"

"No," Urahara interrupted, easing the teen from fearing the worst.

Ichigo walked towards Urahara and noticed the unconscious girl behind her. "Tatsuki . . ." When he made sure she was all right, he turned back to Urahara. "Is Inoue here?"

Urahara had seen many shinigami fresh out of the academy lose their innocence by the stress and high-tolling duties their profession required for them to do. One of the more common cases of these losses was witnessing the death of your comrades. God knows how many shinigami had died in the line of duty. And standing right here in front of the man who Urahara knew would do great things, if led in the right path, was giving the ex-captain a sense of déjà vu. It was a foul taste in his mouth, knowing what had to be done, but it had to be done. He had to tell him this grave news.

Without hesitance, he showed Ichigo the hairpins. The teen took an intake of breath, looked at Urahara, as if wishing the old guy to say 'Psyche!', go back to the devil-may-care attitude he had shown when they first met, and tell him that this was all just some elaborate joke Orihime wanted to play on him. But Urahara could only say these words that put everything he had feared into stone: "We were too late."