Madness (II)
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"T-Taichou," Renji rasps. He has been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. He recognizes Byakuya's reiatsu beside him. His swift defeat at the Quincy's hand shames him and he nearly dies of embarrassment when he finds himself leaning against his captain.
Renji knows that he has much to be grateful for. Taichou saved him. He was too weak to escape without help. He would have died if Byakuya had not intervened when he did.
He turns his head towards Byakuya with much difficulty, ignoring the burn in his throat. "T-Thank—"
"Rest for now, Renji," Byakuya replies curtly, frowning as he shrugs Renji's arms higher over his shoulder. "We can speak later. Kurosaki could be right behind us. You have much explaining to do when we get back. How did you even manage to run into him?"
Renji gives a sheepish smile at the exasperated tone. "Bad luck?"
Byakuya side-eyes him. He would have said more if he had not been interrupted by a loud bang and an immense spike of reiatsu, coming from somewhere behind them. The suffocating nature of the miasmic reiatsu taints, despite the distance between them. It would have crippled him and Renji had they been any closer to it.
"W-What was that?"
Renji casts a worried look behind them, half-expecting to see the shark-toothed grin of the Quincy prince behind them, blade in hand. Byakuya pulls him along, pushing himself to go quicker with shunpo. Ichigo is undoubtedly coming, chasing after them now that he has broken free from the bakudo spells, and Renji is a deadweight.
They are not too far away now from Urahara Shoten. If he can just—
A volley of blue arrows barrage towards them. Byakuya sidesteps, easily avoiding them as they sail through the air, carving holes in the wall of a nearby building.
Too late then. Ichigo has already found them.
"What's the hurry, Byakuya?"
Ichigo emerges from the shadow, flexing his wrist as the bow in his hand disappears. The air seems to crackle with every step that he takes towards them.
Byakuya instinctively takes a step back in response. He frowns, eyeing Renji, who can barely stand without support, and Ichigo, who is stands between them and Urahara Shoten. He has a difficult decision to make.
"What do you want, Kurosaki?"
Ichigo snorts. That is a stupid question. He wants Rukia. He wants to have her undivided attention, to be his and his only.
Everything that he has done, every ploy and scheme that he hatches, every hint of power and control that he now covets, is to have her staying by his side without pretense.
His mother brought him and Uryu to Silbern for a reason. All the suffering, all the pain he endured; all of it was meant to achieve something. His sacrifice, no, their sacrifice was meant to serve a higher purpose. The Soul King- or some part of him anyway, would not let them down, or so his mother claims. Masaki is reluctant to tell him more of the plans or 'prophecy' for fear of Yhwach discovering the reason behind their arrival in Silbern.
Despite Masaki's flaws and the pain that he suffered when she brought him to Silbern, Ichigo can never hate her. His mother gave birth to him. She loves him. Blood takes care of blood. They only have each other in this godforsaken hellhole. He even promised his father that he would be the man of the family, taking care of his mother in the absence of Isshin. So, he lets Masaki keep her secrets, supporting her in whatever she decides to do. He would never betray her, though he cannot claim to understand any of her actions nor care for any of the so-called prophecy.
He is not a hero. He has a heart of stone and steel, beaten and carved to shape by the hands of Yhwach. The world can burn as long as those who he cares about live. The world has never done anything for him, so why should he?
There is nothing to glorify about pain. His suffering is his cross to bear, his price to pay for the abilities he gains from drinking Yhwach's blood, and so it would remain.
Until Rukia comes along.
Rukia comes to him as his salvation, soothing his tortured soul, calming his turmoiled reiatsu with the touch of her own.
He has been a Sternritter for too long, living in the grey and dark. At the first ray of light that pierces the shroud, gracing him, Ichigo grabs hold of it with both hands, snarling like an animal at any stray hands that dare to approach. He is possessive and single-mindedly determined to keep what he found. Rukia is his. He will not share her with anyone.
There are some thoughts too dark to share. Masaki would stare at him in shock and disgust if she knew. She would not understand. No one would, but that is fine. Ichigo decided a long time ago that he did not need people to understand him and his motives, or see the reason behind his actions. Rukia is the only thing he needs. She only wanted to leave him because there were still distractions to be had. There is competition for her undivided attention.
If she had these ties to the Shinigamis severed, she would stay with him, yes?
If he kills Byakuya, he kills the last thread tethering Rukia to the Shinigami. She can finally learn to depend on him and him alone. No one else will ever come between them. No bond in this world and the next would even come close to threatening their relationship. Rukia can finally be his and his alone.
It would have been easy, so disgustingly easy to put his hand on Zangetsu and cut Byakuya down at this very moment in time. Ichigo does not flinch at the sight of blood and it would have kept him in Yhwach's good graces. The alliance with the Shinigamis is important, but if the price to maintain Ichigo's cover within Silbern under Yhwach's watchful gaze is for Byakuya to die, then surely Kyoraku would understand the need to make sacrifices for the greater good?
Yet, Ichigo resists the temptation.
Looking at Byakuya now, part of him still struggles with his decision to let the noble live. It is not a decision that Ichigo came to terms with easily. There is much that he is putting on the line here.
But the epiphany came to him.
Rukia didn't push him away when he told her about his childhood and the cold-blooded murder of his bully. She accepted him for what he is. It makes him hopeful, even if there is just the slightest possibility in it, that Rukia could stay by his side willingly. For that, Ichigo is willing to take the chance, risking his all for the possibility of winning her over completely.
A monster does not love, but ironically, it is his greatest wish to be loved and accepted.
He wants Rukia to love him.
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Ichigo smirks. "The throne of the Wandenreich," he replies.
Yhwach needs to die so Rukia can be safe. No one can touch her when he is Emperor of Wandenreich.
"Then that is all the more reason for you to stop," says Byakuya. "We are allies. There is no need for blood to be shed. I apologize on behalf of my lieutenant for any transgression."
"Allies?" Ichigo snorts. "What sort of allies do I have hiding in the shadows?"
Amber eyes turn to the narrow alley behind Byakuya, eyebrows furrowing. "I know you are there. Why don't you come out and introduce yourselves?"
The man wears green, the ends of his black haori fluttering in the wind as he appears, making a steady click-clack noise with his wooden sandals and his walking stick. His shock of blond hair is so fair it almost seems white under the sun. He gives Ichigo a strange smile as he emerges, lifting his green-white bucket hat as he dips into an exaggerated bow.
"Yare, to meet you too, Your Majesty. Urahara Kisuke, a humble shopkeeper and ex-Shinigami, at your service."
Renji heaves an audible sigh of relief at the announcement. Byakuya, who is still supporting him, gives him an unimpressed look. They are not out of the woods yet.
"Cut the theatrics, Urahara!" Ichigo chides. "We've passed the time for self-introductions a long time ago. Don't act like you don't know me."
Urahara's gait is relaxed, giving nothing away as he calmly walks towards the three of them gathered, loudly exclaiming, "What?! Little ole me?! You mustbe mistaken, Your Majesty. How could a lowly shopkeeper like me ever claim to know someone as great and powerful as yourself?!"
Ichigo scowls, giving the blond a dirty look, more so when he notices that Urahara has come to a stop in front of him, standing just to the side of Byakuya and Renji.
Servitude under Yhwach meant that Ichigo knew when to trust his instincts. Urahara is only trying to distract and deflect him from the true danger lurking in the shadows. There is something or someone else out there, waiting for him. The sense of unease is something that he cannot shift.
He ignores Urahara's antics, telling him curtly. "Your friend should come out and join us."
Without waiting for Urahara's response, he draws Zangetsu out. Ichigo's eyes narrow as he once again turns to the alley. "It is a little rude to keep us waiting like this. Won't you come and say hi too?"
Ichigo hears him before he sees the man. A bald monk appears from the shadows, his appearance reminding Ichigo of a warrior monk based in feudal Japan. His loud boisterous laughter is followed by the echo of his footsteps. The stranger is tall enough to tower over all of them and broad-shouldered, sporting a long black beard that stops just past his navel. His eyebrows are bushy and thick, reminding Ichigo of wiggly caterpillars. He wears a string of red prayer beads around his neck.
The man is Shinigami, that much is evident by his shihakusho and the white Captain's haori draped over his shoulders. He stops directly in front of Renji and Byakuya, completely hiding them from view.
Ichigo stills, frowning deeply. The reiatsu that radiates from him is much stronger than any Captain that Ichigo has come across. With a distinctive face like that, Ichigo would never forget him had he seen him in the intel the Wandenreich has collected. It would have been hard not to notice a man the size of a bear. Yhwach would have made sure that such a powerful fighter is taken out at the earliest point of convenience to the Wandenreich.
So that must mean—
Ichigo narrows his eyes, gripping Zangetsu tightly as he points it at the man.
"The Royal Guard," Ichigo hisses.
"Right you are," the man replies, sizing him up before breaking into a smile. "You must be the Quincy prince that everyone is talking about. You've caused quite a stir."
The smile on his face widens. "You are far more interesting than I expected! The name's Hyosube Ichibe, leader of the Royal Guards. I would caution you against using the name unwisely though. Now what's this I hear about a usurpation? Planning on taking the throne for yourself, boy?"
Ichigo bristles at the name. "What if I am?"
Ichibe rumbles with laughter, unoffended by Ichigo's sharp tone.
How nostalgic!
The last Quincy prince that he has had the privilege of crossing blades with left the battle with half of his powers sealed. The thought of that nameless… thing, the possibility of crossing blades with him again—
Ichibe's eyes harden. "A word of advice, boy. One should not start running before they can walk. You're biting off more than you can chew, you know?"
The thinly veiled threat causes Ichigo's hackles to rise. Who does this monk think he is?
"We'll see about that!"
Ichigo launches himself forward at a lightning speed. Zangetsu feels his rage and the blade burns hot in his hands. He leaps into the air, raising Zangetsu upwards, fueling the attack with the full barrage of reiryouku left at his disposal, and lets gravity do the rest.
"Is that all you've got?"
Ichigo's eyes widen in surprise. His attack has been stopped mid-air. This has never happened before.
A chill goes down his spine when he realizes that Zangetsu has been stopped mid-attack. The tip of the blade is deftly caught between the index and middle finger of Ichibe.
Zangetsu is hard enough to cut through steel and concrete alike. Human bones, tendons and flesh should have given way easily. It should have in theory sliced the monk's fingers clean off.
Ichigo scowls, instinctively pulling away, hoping to wrestle the weapon away from Ichibei's hold to no avail. The man gives him a sardonic smirk, mocking him for his attempts. The more Ichigo tries to pull his blade free, the harder and tighter Ichibe's hold on Zangetsu becomes.
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Clink!
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It is a sound that chills Ichigo to the bones. He stills as a hairline crack appears at the tip of Zangetsu. The line grows, extending further down the blade.
"Ah, I didn't think a zanpakutou could be so fragile."
Ichibe's careless remark makes him seethe. A zanpakutou is the truest representation of their wielder's soul. His soul is being splintered. Zangetsu's anguish is a painful wail, like blunt fingernails scraping against a blackboard, setting his teeth on the edge.
Ichigo grounds his teeth, glaring furiously at the man. He is not an idiot, nor is he one to admit defeat easily. He does not know how Ichibe is doing this. But if the damn monk thinks he will admit defeat so easily, then he has got another thing coming!
Ignoring the pain and the danger of further splintering his blade, Ichigo pushes Zangetsu forward.
It is a move that most would consider suicidal, but Ichigo fights for the sole reason of being the last one standing. On the battlefield, the desire to win should outshine the desire to live. Self-preservation is not on his mind and that makes him unpredictable and deadly.
He stares Ichibe dead in the eyes. Madness burning in his eyes as he yells out, "Bankai!"
There is a shift in the reishi in the air almost immediately. The release of Ichigo's miasmic reiatsu converges to a wave of energy so dark and powerful that it seems to pull at the light in their immediate surroundings, threatening to swallow the sun itself.
Dark clouds gather above them as the ominous roll of thunder sounds. Strong gusts of wind billow, tugging at the ends of their clothes and unbound hair. Summer storms are tempestuous, marked by gathering grey clouds, the rise of hot air, and a stifling tension that has everyone on the edge.
A bolt of lightning streaks through the air, hitting the ground in front of him. The smell of ozone and damp earth fills the air.
Ichigo opens his eyes. The whites of his eyes are shaded in black, marked by the piercing yellow irises within them. His flame-coloured hair grows past his shoulders now, brushing just above his waist. The Sternritter uniform that he has on is stained entirely in black, making the gold in the buttons stand out ever more apparently.
Darkness becomes him. It is his nature. The black sun; a dark phoenix rising from the ashes of a dead star, once so bright and beautiful, now corrupted by the taint of emptiness and the curse of the void. He will destroy worlds and consume all that is in his path, rendering it asunder.
Zangetsu is cackling with energy as darkness envelops it. A sinister scarlet glow is spread along its edges, as though coating it with the blood of its enemies. The chains that snaked around Ichigo's arm have shortened dramatically, thinning to a sliver of itself to wrap around his wrist twice, not unlike a bracelet. The chain tapers to a short, thin metal weight at the end, keeping the chains slinked against bare skin.
Ichibe is in the direct line of fire and no matter how skilled a fighter he is, there is no way that he can escape unscathed. They both know this to be true. Ichigo gives a maniacal grin, relishing at the look of surprise on Ichibe's face just before the attack is made.
"Tensa Zangetsu!"
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Boom!
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Shockwaves from the energy blast ripple through the air, kicking up a mix of hot air, sand and dust. Glasses break on impact. The immediate vicinity becomes a cacophonous mix of blaring car alarms, building sprinklers being turned on automatically, and long, haunting echoes of earthquake sirens.
"And that is our cue to leave," says Urahara chirpily.
The protective forcefield that he erected last minute barely held. As the three men emerge largely unscathed, Urahara gives a low whistle as he surveys the damage done. The force field around them has a large chunk missing. Had it shifted just an inch closer to the left, it would have hit dead center and of the three of them, he was confident that him and Byakuya would have had the ability to dodge.
Renji though—
He looks at the pale-faced man swaying on his feet, his long red hair hanging limply and plastered to his clammy face. His breathing is loud and laboured, his chest heaving with every breath that he takes.
"Let us go now," says Urahara as he extends a hand towards them. Urahara Shoten is nearby. The protective kido barrier seals maintained by Hachigen and Tessai would mean that their base of operations remain strong and impenetrable against most attacks. By now, the alarms would have sounded. Not to mention, the chaos and commotion generated since Ichigo's arrival in the Human World would have put everyone on red alert against the possibility of full-scale invasion from the Wandenreich.
Byakuya's eyes narrow in distrust at the outstretched hand. Urahara has received an official pardon from Kyoraku in view of his contributions in the fight against Aizen and now, as part of the war effort against Yhwach. Yet, Byakuya does not trust the man. Urahara said so himself. He is an ex-Shinigami. Yoruichi vouches for him and his character, but it is no secret that the Shihouin princess may have a skewed view on the subject. She does after all, have a personal history with Urahara and went so far as to abandon her division and her clan to run away with him after he was exiled. The news of the elopement was scandalous enough to overshadow the news of the young master of the Kuchiki clan marrying a commoner from Rukongai.
This flamboyant and bombastic display that the man puts on is just a façade. His smiles never meet his eyes. His true nature is, much like the man himself, a complete mystery. There is something about him that reminds the raven-haired noble of Aizen. Both are skilled deceivers; both are young prodigies. The price that Soul Society has had to pay for Aizen's betrayal has been dear and as the saying goes, once bitten, twice shy.
Byakuya will not allow a similar tragedy to strike twice. Not when Rukia's life is hanging in the balance. He pulls Renji back, his lips pulled into a thin line.
"There is something that you are not telling us."
Urahara is unperturbed by the accusation, brushing off the dust gathered on the brim of his bucket hat with a frown. "What makes you say that?"
"The Quincy said something just now. You know him. Yet, there is no report of you ever crossing paths with him."
He gives the man a sharp look. "Where and how did you meet the Quincy crown prince Kurosaki Ichigo? How does he know you? Should Soul Society have a reason to doubt your allegiance and loyalty?"
This constant 'us against them' mentality, the haughty sense of self-righteousness that underpins Byakuya's questioning— this is exactly why he hates dealing with nobles. He cannot say that he is truly all that distraught at Aizen's massacre of the Central 46.
Urahara turns to him, smiling faintly. "I thought we're all on the same side."
Byakuya arches an eyebrow. "And which side would that be?"
Urahara scoffs, pressing his hat down on his head. "Isn't it obvious? The winning side of course! I am a businessman, you know! There's not much of a profit to be gained from being on the losing side!"
"You—"
Renji's sudden bout of coughing interrupts him. Byakuya belatedly turns his attention to his vice-captain, frowning as he notices how ashen he looks. Renji's breathing is becoming shallower by the second. That is not a good sign.
Urahara gives a wry grin, tapping a finger against his chin. "If I were you, I'd worry less about my allegiance and focus more on dear Renji-kun over here. He does not appear to be in good shape. Wouldn't want him to bleed out before the Fourth can take a look at him."
As much as it irks him, Urahara is right. Whatever information that the blonde scientist is hiding can wait. Byakuya does not protest when Urahara pulls Renji over, over, draping Renji's arm over his own shoulders to shift the younger man over, completely easing him off Byakuya.
"Now do try and keep up."
Urahara throws him a look over his shoulder. Even with the added weight of Renji, he does not seem the least bit encumbered, speeding off towards the base in breakneck speed with shunpo. Byakuya frowns at the childish challenge. He tells himself that he is not at all affected by it as he activates shunpo, chasing after the pair. He is merely concerned about Renji's injuries.
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Ichigo's chest heaves from exertion. He flicks his wrist, dispelling the smog around him with a downward wave of Zangetsu. Sweat drips down his back, plastering his hair to his face. Bankai expends much energy and reiryouku from him. He swipes at the beads of sweat with the back of his hand, forcing himself to rise to his full height with a sharp inhale. He is on the battlefield and he cannot afford to show the slightest hint of weakness, especially not to Ichibe.
Closer inspection of Zangetsu has him furrowing his brows. There is a half-moon shaped dent at the tip of Zangetsu. A hairline fissure extends just above it. Had Ichibe gripped at it any harder, or longer for that matter, the tip of the blade would have been in danger of snapping off completely.
Ichigo's grip on the hilt tightens. A crippling mix of guilt and shame fills him at the sight of the chipped and cracked blade. He was too careless. This is the price to be paid for underestimating a Royal Guard.
The thought of Zangetsu snapping- no, the very idea of it is unthinkable and the consequences of it are dire. A katana blade, once broken cannot be reforged. This much he knows, yet he has never had to entertain that as a possibility until now.
He needs to be careful. The same mistake cannot be made twice. Ichibe is unlike any opponent that he has come to cross blades with. The monk can do something unnatural. He cannot be allowed to come any closer to Zangetsu. There cannot be any further damage dealt to the blade.
Ichigo glances at his surroundings, straining his eyes in search for any clues on the whereabouts of the Shinigami, but to no avail. He frowns. The Royal Guard is nowhere in sight, but Ichigo can feel the man's eyes on him, watching him, anticipating his every move and waiting to strike when he least expects it.
Suddenly, he feels it. The change in air movement is subtle, but a warrior's senses are sharp. His skin pricks with goosebumps. The hair on his nape rises. Ichigo is useless at sensing reiatsu and manipulating reishi. Yet, the slight increase in the spiritual pressure in his immediate surroundings has him reacting instinctively, turning to look behind him.
It is a solid hit. Ichigo does not even have the time to blink as the wind is knocked out of him. His instincts kick in immediately. He forces the reiryouku within him into his blood vessels, forcefully bulking his muscles as defense. His Blut Vene absorbs most of the damage and shock to his system, but he is still sent flying backwards, sailing through the air like a weightless frisbee.
Ichigo hisses in pain at the impact, but he pushes past it. He opens his eyes, fighting to keep them open as strong gusts of wind tear at his clothes, whipping his long bright hair to lash against his face.
Above him, there is a silvery outline of a giant hand, an open palm with fingers spread out pushing at him. Ichigo's eyes narrow. He sees Ichibe standing at the top of an office building, folding his arms as he looks down at him with a smirk, taunting him.
Ichigo scowls viciously. Is this another one of his tricks? How did he miss him when the man is just standing right there in plain sight?
Ichigo growls, wanting nothing more than to swipe that smug look off his face. As a Sternritter, his abilities and skills are top-notch. He will show the monk that he is not to be underestimated. Just because Zangetsu has been damaged, it does not mean that he is down for the count.
Risking further damage to the sword, Ichigo swings Zangetsu upwards, stabbing the sword backhanded into the ground behind him, using it as an anchor to pivot and pull himself to a stop. Earth and concrete debris are kicked up into the air, hitting his back and cutting it up. He grunts at the impact as a particularly sharp piece of glass sinks into the flesh between his shoulder blade.
Friction and momentum kick in, pushing back to counter the force of Ichibe's attack. Ichigo plants both feet into the ground, finally coming to a stop. He tastes iron as he gets back on his feet, his eyes promising bloody murder as they meet Ichibe's. Maintaining eye contact between them, Ichigo reaches behind him, bare hand grabbing hold of the broken glass shard and yanking it free. Blood drips from the wound and the cut on his hand, but Ichigo shrugs it off, throwing the glass away carelessly.
He has no time to waste, he thinks to himself, eyeing the numerous rows of buildings and flat bitumen road between him and Ichibe. He is on the move even before the glass hits the floor, speeding towards Ichibe with his blade unsheathed.
Sensing his movement, Ichibe calls for the hand in the sky yet again, directing it towards Ichigo. The monk slams his open palm flat against his fist and the hand in the sky follows suit, hurling itself at Ichigo, causing a cloud of fine dust to rise and the ground to tremor when it slams against concrete.
"Tch!"
Ichigo narrows his eyes at the crater formed on the ground. He pivoted then, avoiding the attack at the very last minute to land on the rooftop of a nearby building. Had he reacted a second later, he would have been flattened like pancake on the ground.
How troublesome!
Ichigo scowls. He refuses to be intimidated. He leaps into the air once again without a second thought, determined to reach Ichibe.
Yet, the giant hand in the sky thwarts his every attempt to close in on the distance. It dogs his every step, swatting and batting at him as though he is a common pest to be squashed. The force behind each swipe and punch is powerful enough to topple buildings, lining the battleground beneath it with more debris with every movement. It takes all that he has for Ichigo to keep dodging.
He lands on the outer wall of a multistorey glass building, trying to catch his breath. While his attention is occupied by the giant hand in front of him, Ichigo barely has time to realize the shadow coming at him from behind. His eyes widen in surprise and he gets away, activating Hirenkyaku just before the two palms are pressed together, nearly squashing him between them.
He grits his teeth, swiping at the beads of sweat gathered with the back of his hand. He is panting, his chest heaving lightly from the exertion. The hand that holds Zangetsu is sweaty and trembling. It was difficult enough fighting against one hand, now with another one joining the fray, Ichigo knows that he is being pushed into a corner. The outcome of the battle is already decided if he cannot get any closer to Ichibe, who is barely breaking a sweat as he controls the hands from a distance.
It cannot be helped. Grim determination lines his face as he points his blade, both hands gripping the hilt, readying his stance with a sharp intake of breath.
"Getsuga Tensho!"
He directs his attack at the building where Ichibe is standing. The two enormous hands are predictably close by. The powerful blast of energy emitted by Getsuga Tensho is not an attack that can be mitigated by a simple push or pull motion of the hand. Both hands are brought together with a ringing thud and an echoing shockwave that borders on deafening erupts as the attack is countered.
Ichigo coughs, his eyes watering from the dust. As the dust cloud settles, there is a delay before the silvery hands reappear, their outlines shaky and wavery before solidifying. Just as he suspects, it takes Ichibe a few minutes to regroup after the attack. Those few minutes are all that Ichigo needs.
Wave after wave of Getsuga Tensho are launched as Ichigo attacks relentlessly. Blood and sweat drip, sliding down his cheeks and injured hands, but he is past the point of caring. He needs to win against Ichibe at all cost. He has already poured too much of himself into the battle to back out now.
He focuses his attention to the man in front of him. He is close enough now. Just a little more, he thinks. Gritting his teeth and pushing his body past his limit, Ichigo activates Hirenkyaku for a final burst of speed.
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"Boo!"
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Ichigo grins triumphantly as he appears directly above Ichibe, Zangetsu in hand.
The two come face to face with each other on the rooftop. The giant hands follow suit, trailing right behind Ichigo, but Ichibe dispels them with a frown as he recovers from the initial surprise. Senri Tsutensho is not able to discern between friends and foes. Any attack from this distance would have wiped them both out.
Ichigo does not hesitate. He swings Zangetsu downwards, aiming directly at Ichibe's chest. "Getsuga Tensho!"
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Above them, the crackle of lightning and thunder sounds. The floodgates of heaven open with a shuddering heave. Cool rain hits heated skin, evaporating almost instantly with a hiss. But the trickle grows and a heavy downpour follows, drenching both of them to the bones.
The protective kido barrier that Ichibe erected as defense could not withhold the force of the attack. He is pushed back by the force of Getsuga Tensho, leaving a path gorged out from bitumen and gravel from where he dug his heels in on the flat roof.
Ichibe straightens himself, wincing as he gives a hacking cough. Blood dribbles past his lips. He presses a hand against his chest. He felt the wound sink into his chest as it was made. It is merely a shallow wound, not nearly deep enough to penetrate his vitals, but his fingers are stained red when he brings them up.
He steadies himself with a growl, his hand gripping onto the wooden shaft of giant calligraphy brush as tall as he is.
"Not bad, boy," Ichibe announces, his lips curling into a strange grin at Ichigo. "Not bad at all. But I fear this is where your journey ends."
He slams the tip of the brush onto the ground beneath him. "Blacken, Ichimonji!"
The soft bristles of the brush are replaced by the metallic glint of a sharp blade. The brush turns into a glaive, yet curiously, retains the properties of a brush. Black ink seeps and puddles on the ground as Ichibe slams the wooden shaft on the ground. He waves the glaive, lifting it up easily as he charges at Ichigo with a roar.
Ichigo immediately brings Zangetsu up to parry and counter the blow. The clatter of metal against metal echoes loudly. Ichigo can feel himself faltering, his grip on the hilt is made slick from a combination of rain, sweat and blood.
He feels the drain of bankai on his reiryouku. He is not a machine. The earlier battles have taken its toll on him. His stamina is running low.
When Ichibe's glaive comes at him yet again, Ichigo sidesteps but the blade still nicks the side of his face. He steels himself against the pain. To his surprise, there is no pain from the cut and when he presses his fingers to the site, there is no blood to stain them. The strangeness of the situation makes him frown, but Ichibe is not volunteering any explanation. A solid line of black runs diagonally across Ichigo's left cheek, but he does not notice it. Ichibe smirks at that, already launching another wave of attack before Ichigo can fully comprehend the situation.
Ichibe swings the weapon masterfully, stabbing at Ichigo with the sharp pointed end.
Ichigo makes up his mind, turning around to face Ichibe head-on. It is a split-second decision that he makes. On the battleground, there are pivotal moments like this, where calculated risks are taken to bring about decisions that can make or break a battle. This is the turn of the tide.
Ichigo charges forward, his eyes steeling with determination. The glaive cuts him on his sword arm. He takes the damage without batting an eye, turning on his heel and reversing his grip on Zangetsu. His focus is on Ichibe's side that is left open for an attack.
He thrusts Zangetsu forward, pushing it down at full strength with a loud grunt.
Yet, there is no satisfying sound of metal sinking into flesh. Zangetsu arcs through the air, but the blade merely graces Ichibe's side, making a tear on his clothes. The skin underneath it remains intact. It does not draw blood. If anything, Zangetsu pulls at his arm like a heavy weight.
Ichigo scowls, feeling his blood turn cold. His arm does not feel like his own. He grips Zangetsu tightly. He knows his own strength and he has every confidence in his swordsmanship. What sorcery is this?
"What did you do to me?!"
Ichibe laughs at the alarmed look on Ichigo's face, hefting the glaive to rest on his shoulder. He walks up to Ichigo with a condescending smirk, tsking and tutting. "Didn't you know, the power of a pen is nothing to be scoffed at? Some might even say that it is mightier than a sword."
Ichigo glares venomously ahead. It was a trap and he fell for it. "You tricked me!"
Ichibe scoffs. "All's fair in love and war, no? Your blade reeks of desperation. Could it be that this is all that the Great Kurosaki Ichigo is capable of?"
Ichigo purses his lips, urging himself to remain calm. He grips at the hilt of his blade. Ichibe is taunting him, hoping to get a rise out of him. Anger and frustration will only cloud his judgement, impairing his abilities on the battlefield.
Ichigo takes a step back, reassessing the situation at hand. It seems that the odds are stacked against him. His arm is as good as useless now. How can he hope to cut Ichibe down when he struggles to even hold Zangetsu properly?
His attention returns to Ichibe as he eyes the monk's glaive warily. The glaive and the splashes of ink must be avoided at all cost. Ichibe's powers must enable him to take ownership or weaken the ability of anything that the glaive cuts.
Ichibe charges at him again. Ichigo throws up Zangetsu instinctively as defense. Blocking and parrying the glaive with Zangetsu is instinctive and comes to him as natural as breathing, but it is a futile attempt.
Ichigo grits his teeth. He feels his strength faltering. The speed of his attack is affected by the leaden weight that is Zangetsu. He is forced to go on the defensive, pushing everything he has into Zangetsu to withstand Ichimonji's blows. Too busy defending himself, Ichigo does not notice as the fissure in the blade grows, thickening with every clatter and clang as Zangetsu is brought up to meet the unrelenting onslaught.
The break happens when he least expects it.
Ichigo's eyes widen as the sleek black katana snaps into two. The broken tip spirals and spins in the air, stabbing deep into the ground with striking finality, announcing its end. Ichigo slumps to the ground in disbelief, his hand still gripping tightly on the hilt of the broken katana.
Wet hair plasters to his face and his pupils are blown wide. Ichigo is shocked into stillness.
Zangetsu is broken.
He broke his zanpakutou.
Adrenaline courses through his veins and all he can hear is the sound of blood rushing in his ears. His grief over the loss of his zanpakutou is too potent that even words fail him. His hands are shaking as he cradles the broken blade in his hands, mourning his loss.
In a state of stupor, he does not even react to Ichibe's approach.
Ichibe shakes his head. Pride comes before the fall. Arrogance and greed can only take them so far. The outcome of the battle has been decided even before they crossed blades.
Black absorbs all light and reflects none. Ichimonji is the power of darkness, the ability to cut all and render all powers halved and bound; and Ichibe is the master of it. He is the true master of darkness. Ichigo is a million years too early to fully grasp the true meaning of darkness, of what it means to be held in the shadows. He cannot hold a candle to him, especially in his current state.
"Any last words?" he asks Ichigo, taking pity on his sorry state.
Ichigo raises his head defiantly, searing Ichibe and stopping him dead in his tracks. The feral look in his eyes strikes Ichibe as half-mad and utterly savage; more beast than man, more Hollow than human.
"Cero!"
Ichigo is out for blood. His rage is molten as is the point-blank cero that he fires at Ichibe. A white chitinous substance covers the side of his face as he throws his head back, cackling maniacally.
"You will pay for thisss!"
Ichigo's voice is distorted, his words carrying a sibilant hiss. Determination gleams in his eyes. Ichibe watches in abject horror as the young man grips at his broken blade with his other hand, and right before his very eyes, cuts off his sword arm, right above the line of black where Ichimonji marked him.
Blood spews and spurts like a fountain, staining the ground and his immediate vicinity until it resembles a murder scene. Ichigo drops to his knees, throwing his head back as he roars in pain. The pain of losing an arm is all-consuming, but rage and indignance fuels him. He will not lose to Ichibe. He needs to survive.
He made a vow to Rukia. He will go back to her, even if he has to crawl back to her on all four. Death simply cannot hold him and the gates of Hell cannot keep him.
Ichigo screams as his body contorts, his limbs folding themselves into awkward and inhumane angles. His bones and joints break and jerk as they reshape themselves. An eternity of agony and pain wrecks his body, rendering his voice hoarse as he convulses. He tastes blood from where his teeth cut into the insides of his cheek. His incisors have lengthened and curved into fangs, filed sharp and deadly.
He is panting heavily by the end of his transformation. As he rises gingerly to his feet, still disorientated, Ichibe gains a good look of the bestial transformation. The once pristine Sternritter uniform is now in tatters. There is a huge gap at the front, exposing Ichigo's chest where an armour of white scales now covers. His face is a white elongated skull with a short, blunt snout and two cranial horns curving forward menacingly. Slits mark where his eyes use to sit and lines of black run past the sides of his face. A deep, see-through hole sits at the base of his throat.
Now, the unmistakable stench of a Vasto Lorde reeks from Ichigo and his tainted reiatsu. His powerful lower jaw snaps shut with a menacing chomp at Ichibe, nostrils flaring as he senses the Royal Guard's presence. The heavy lizard's tail that trails behind him thumps noisily against the ground as he whirls to face Ichibe.
The loss of an arm does not seem to hinder Ichigo by the slightest as he fires another powerful Cero at Ichibe, causing the monk to grimace before summoning a kido barrier to block the attack. A golden translucent spherical dome surrounds him swiftly. The heavy layer of reiatsu shields him against the attack, but the impact of the red fiery blast is still powerful enough to crack through the surface, leaving a jagged splinter on the inner wall.
Staring at the mark made along the barrier, Ichibe muses to himself if the man is truly a monster. His kido walls have never breached or bested in a fight. Most people would not even last a full round against Ichimonji. Yet now, the Quincy has somehow managed to withstand all his attacks, defying all that Ichibe has ever known and seen, and he has been around long enough to see a lot.
Just what in the world is Ichigo?
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By the time he disengages his kido shield, Ichigo is nowhere to be seen. Ichibe glances warily at his surroundings, hoping to catch sight of the Hollow, to no avail. Despite its hulking size, Ichigo is surprisingly agile in this form, no doubt aided by his ability to use Sonido, and adept at hiding traces of his reiatsu. Ichibe cannot pinpoint his location even if he tried. The monstrous Hollow seems to have just vanished into thin air.
Ichibe makes his way forward in the dark. The ground beneath his feet is covered by debris and water puddles, making a sickening squelch with every step that he takes. Rain pelts at him constantly, splashing into his face and eyes as the wind heaves and blusters, further obstructing his vision.
Even with Ichimonji at hand, he is too slow to react when he sees a flicker of white in front of him.
Ichigo's tail blindsides him and Ichibe is sent flying, his back hitting the side of a nearby building, caving it in. He cannot evade Ichigo's next attack in time as the Hollow bodily slams into him, pressing him flat against the wall. Sharp claws dig into the flesh of his shoulders, tearing through muscles and tendons, to keep him pinned in place. Ichimonji is still gripped tightly in his hand, but he cannot move his arms.
Ichibe hisses from the pain. A streak of lightning grants him sight. Ichigo's new hand clamps at his shoulder, the claws on his digits piercing through skin. A Vasto Lorde's high-speed regeneration is not something to be taken lightly. The stump has now fully regenerated, showing no signs of impaired movement.
The new form renders Ichigo's expressions unreadable, but Ichibe senses a sick thrill of satisfaction gleaming from the yellow eyes when Ichigo's fist suddenly clenches, tightening the grip over his shoulder. The smell of blood fills the air as the claws are pushed even deeper. The pressure on his shoulder joint continues to build until Ichibe hears a sickening crunch.
The bones snapped.
Ichibe screams, his head jerking upwards from the pain. Up close, fetid air rises from the depth of the creature's foul mouth, fanning his face. Ichigo's curved horns are close enough to gouge out Ichibe's eyes and the spittle that dribbles past his mouth seems to be corrosive in nature, singeing Ichibe's beard.
Ichibe glares, clenching his jaw as he stares into a pair of remorseless eyes. Such impudence!
"S-Shakkahou!"
The fireball that he fires is much stronger than any Ichigo has ever encountered and even with his heavy armour, Ichigo is pushed back, yelping in pain and releasing his hold on Ichibe before he disappears once again from view.
No longer immobile, Ichibe slumps down the side of the wall, cradling his broken shoulder as he paces his surroundings, eyes peering into darkness. His arm hangs limply by his side. He cannot lift his arm at all. If he looks down, Ichibe can see the large swelling over the area and the outline of the broken bone jutting out from beneath the skin. His pain tolerance is high, but a broken shoulder is not an injury to be taken lightly, especially in a battle to the death.
The monk is seized by the sudden urge to laugh. So, this is how he wants to play it?
He shakes his head. What a spiteful child! Since he rendered his sword arm useless in a fight, Ichigo's vindictive response is to have his arm broken. Even if Ichimonji is in his hand, the glaive is useless to him now.
An eye for an eye.
Ichibe cannot fault him for that.
The heavy downpour above them shows no signs of stopping. The chill of it seeps into his bones, making him even more miserable. Ichibe shouts into the darkness, half-mumbling to himself as he thinks aloud.
"Do you know what strikes me as strange? For a Quincy prince, you have not even used a bow and arrow once during our battle! Tell me, boy. Are you really a Quincy? Or are you something else?"
Ichigo's reply is a swift barrage of red glowing Bala directed at him. They whistle through the air, hurtling towards him like missiles. Ichibe is unpertubed. Sending forth a wave of fireballs by way of Shakkahou, he neutralizes the attack, yelling into the void.
"Do you even know what you really are?"
Ichigo barrels into him, claws extended and hackles raised. Ichibe throws up a protective kido barrier yet again. Ichigo's attack pings off the force field harmlessly. The recoil knocks him back, but Ichigo is undeterred.
Yellow piercing eyes gleam, following Ichibe's every move as Ichigo circles him. He crouches low on all four, a deep guttural growl coming from the base of his throat. All resemblance of humanity is gone in his eyes. A monster's gaze holds no warmth or understanding. There is only impulses and instincts; to kill or be killed. Ichibe reads his intent clearly.
This is a battle for survival, for pride, and Ichigo will not stop until one of them is dead.
Then, so be it.
Even without Ichimonji, he is still a formidable foe. He will show Ichigo the true difference in power between them and he will do so without sullying his zanpakutou. It is for the best. The killing of a mindless beast like this would only besmirch the pride of his blade.
Ichibe splays his hand, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. A glow swirls from his palm as he readies a powerful kido spell. At the count of three, a fiery burst of star fire comes alive from the tips of his fingers, streaking through the air like a bright blue comet, hurtling towards Ichigo at breakneck speed.
Ichibe lowers his arm, panting as sweat drips off his forehead. It will not miss and when it is done, Ichigo will simply cease to exist.
Sensing the imminent danger, Ichigo raises his head and roars. He plants his feet solidly onto the ground, refusing to back down from the challenge issued. Puffing out his chest, he opens his mouth wide, bringing forth a powerful scarlet Cero beam that is every bit as potent as Ichibe's kido attack.
Blue against red.
Neither would give up the fight until the strongest is declared.
White light erupts, shooting straight into the dark sky. The two powerful bursts of energy meet in mid-air, resulting in a deafening explosion. The huge release of energy sends both of Ichibe and Ichigo flying from the recoil.
Ichibe grits his teeth, groaning as he plants the blunt end of Ichimonji into the ground, finally coming to a stop. Blood seeps from his ears. Everything is eerily silent around him. He tries to shake it off, but the shockwave disorientated him. His eyes water and his vision blurs from the heavy dust cloud. He is barely steady on his feet when he feels the chill of metal looping around his wrist.
He blinks. A glint of silver is all that he sees before a fresh wave of pain blooms at the side of his head.
Ichibe falls back, clutching the bleeding gash on his head, but Ichigo is far from done as he whips out his chain again, splitting Ichibe's cheek open. Blood pours from the site, puddling on the ground and staining Ichibe's white haori red.
The black kusari-fundo is a malleable weighted chain. It is a deadly snake that hides easily in the depths of shredded sleeves, slinking against Ichigo's wrist, bidding its time until it is needed. Now, it comes alive in Ichigo's hands, echoing Zangetsu's fury and vitriol at its senseless destruction.
It is all that is left of Zangetsu.
Ichigo holds on to the ends tightly, pulling it taut before he lunges again, wrapping the chain around Ichibe's neck. The metal burns white hot, searing flesh where it comes into contact with bare skin, but Ichigo holds fast. The pain incurred by the loss of his zanpakutou can only be assuaged by the death of Ichibe. He will not rest until then.
Ichibe gasps, struggling for air. More so, as Ichigo jumps onto his back, wrapping the chain even tighter around his neck. Ichibe digs his fingers around the chain, trying to grab hold of the chain. His fingers are left bloody by the ordeal but Ichigo's hold is stronger. Even as Ichibe writhes and growls, elbowing him hard to buck him off, Ichigo refuses to give in.
"Do not asss-ume you know anything about me," Ichigo hisses, blowing hot air into Ichibe's face. "I am The Crown Prince of Wandenreich! I am the Sternritter A! I am The Anomaly!"
He is Yhwach's prized monster. His very name strikes fear into the heart of Wandenreich's denizens. He is the true and terrible amalgamation of Shinigami, Hollow and Quincy. His existence pushes the boundaries of all that known and holy.
With a deep growl, Ichigo sinks his teeth into the side of Ichibe's neck, jaw clamping shut and tears out a sizable chunk of his flesh. He severs the carotid artery and jugular vein in a single mouthful.
Ichigo is unprepared by the force of the impact as blood spurts in his face. It is a blood bath. Warm blood spews thick and sticky, clinging on to the pores of his skin so tightly that Ichigo cannot smell anything save the heady and metallic taste of blood. All he sees is a sea of red. His grip on the chain tightens every time Ichibe puts up any form of resistance. Ichibe gurgles, his arms flailing instinctively in an attempt to stem the blood loss to no avail.
It is over in a matter of seconds. Ichibe's lifeless corpse hits the ground with a thud, his eyes wide open as Ichigo releases his hold on him.
A minute later, Ichigo's body follows suit, chest heaving as he slumps forward from exhaustion and complete depletion of reiryouku. He spits out the mangled mess of torn flesh and heavy mouthfuls of black tar-like blood, nearly gagging at the taste.
Without reiryouku sustaining the transformation, his hair shortens to his nape, his sharp claws and teeth shrink. His hand is human again as he swipes at the corner of his mouth. The white scales covering his body turn brittle, cracking and crumbling until they dissipate into the thin air. The brightness of his surroundings nearly blinds him as he adjusts to his normal human vision.
He raises his head up weakly. It seems that the rain has finally stopped.
Ichigo pushes himself up with much difficulty, swaying on his feet. Karakura is nearly leveled after their fight. The battle between him and Ichibe has so thoroughly transformed the layout of downtown Karakura, there is no way that the Shinigamis would have missed his presence. He needs to get as far away as possible from here, away from Ichibe's corpse and the debris-filled wasteland. It is only a matter of time before the Shinigamis realize the disappearance of the Royal Guard's reiatsu.
He hisses in pain, cradling his arm. Even with the high-speed regeneration, there is still a dull ache that throbs at his lower arm from where he severed it with Zangetsu. He grips the small length of black chain in his hand tightly. He is in no position to salvage anything else from his broken blade. Covered in blood that is not his own and clothes that are no better than scraps of clothing, Ichigo knows that he needs to stick to the shadows and hide. His presence is much too obvious and his appearance, too distinct. He sticks out like a sore thumb. And in his current state, he is as helpless as a newborn baby. Focused solely at the task of getting away, Ichigo does not notice the signs of danger until it is far too late.
Ichigo blinks.
Pain erupts at the center of his chest. His gaze trails low to see a sword plunged right through his chest. He turns his head to look behind him. The betrayal stings.
"U-Ura-ha—"
Ichigo grits his teeth, gripping the black weighted chain but the blond twists the blade, plunging it deeper into his chest before Ichigo can launch it at him. The metal chain slips from his grasp, falling to the ground with a dull clatter.
Urahara's smile stretches even wider at that. "It's time for you to go to sleep, Your Majesty. You are really holding us up here, you know?"
Hollow laughter echoes. Ichigo's knees buckle. Already dizzy to begin with, he falls to his knees. In the end, he is betrayed by those he thought were family. Of course, a monster has no friends or allies. They all want him dead.
Does Rukia want him dead too?
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The blade is wrenched free from him and Ichigo falls face-first onto the ground, feeling the last vestiges of his strength leave his body. Something salty trails down his cheeks. An overwhelming mix of emotions assaults him, but it is regret that makes him choke.
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Rukia—
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Masaki is right, he thinks. He should have said goodbye.
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Urahara steps up to the prone body, flipping him over to lie on his back. He frowns, looking at the mass of injuries covering Ichigo. There are scores of wounds, some half-healed and others still bleeding, spread out across Ichigo's body. The worst of them is a raw jagged line around Ichigo's lower arm, sitting just above his wrist. The blond purses his lips, pocketing the black kusari-fundo wordlessly, before bending low to pick up the two broken parts of a sleek black katana.
"Well, this is a bit of an overkill, isn't it?"
Ichibe's floating head rises from somewhere behind Urahara. Self-generation is a slow and tedious process, but he can hardly complain after the bloody end he met at Ichigo's hands. Even now, there is a phantom ache that throbs on the side of his neck. He shudders at the memory. The boy is a vicious animal and he tells Urahara as much after the blond gave him some of his power to allow Ichibe to come back to life. Ichibe's impressive eyebrows furrow and his lips are curved into a frown.
"I didn't even unleash my bankai or Futen Taisatsuryou on the boy. If anything, I went easy on him! The little bastard on the other hand, ripped my throat out!"
Unfazed, Urahara side eyes the talking head, arching an eyebrow. "And his zanpakutou?"
"What of it?" Ichibe asks, "His zanpakutou is incomplete. Just ask Nimaiya. I can't be blamed for the subpar quality of a forged blade."
Urahara's expression is thoughtful. He would have said more if he wasn't interrupted by the click-clack of footsteps heading towards them. The newcomer is a beautiful woman with jet black hair and snow-white skin. Her sense of balance is impeccable as she approaches them steadily while wearing a pair of high and thick-soled wooden sandals. Yet, her fine features are easily overshadowed by a massive golden hairpiece that rivals the size of her head and the long mechanical arms that trail behind her.
When she comes closer, it becomes clear that some of her long arms are occupied, dragging something heavy behind her. Urahara quirks an eyebrow when he sees the three bodies. They wear, or rather wore, Sternritter uniforms. Judging by their vacant stares and stiff body, Urahara does not hold much hope of them being alive.
He heaves a sigh. "Happy hunting, Senjumaru?"
Senjumaru nods with a smile. She keeps her mechanical arms wrapped around the Sternritters' necks, squeezing tightly at their windpipes. Urahara and Ichibe both crouch low to eye-level, inspecting the injuries on the bodies. While they are not missing limbs or heads, parts of their bodies are caved in with a multitude of spikes and needles protruding, attesting to Senjumaru's brutality in battle.
Urahara is the first to look away, shaking his head. Ichibe nearly leveled the whole town and Senjumaru just dragged the bodies of three Sternritters halfway across town. Are all Royal Guards commited to being this extra?
"Oh, how nice!" Ichibe announces, clapping his hand in delight when he notices a weak rise in the chest in one of them. "One of them is still alive!"
"For now," Senjumaru simpers.
Her smile is cold and unfeeling as she tilts her head at the lucky survivor. BG9 gulps nervously, cursing himself for not doing a better job at playing death. Despite being a cyborg, BG9 feels a chill running up his spine as Senjumaru fixes him with a stare. He can feel the grip on his throat tightening, death beckoning until Urahara made a timely intervention.
"We need him alive," says the blonde to Senjumaru, gesturing to the fallen body of the Quincy crown prince, covered in blood. "Someone should send word to Silbern."
Senjumaru makes a face, reluctantly loosening her grip on him. BG9 takes hold of his newfound freedom with relish, gulping for air as he scrambles to his feet, activating Hirenkyaku without sparing a second glance at his comrades. He will not forget the humiliating defeat they suffered at the hands of the Royal Guard, but his desire to live outweighs that of his Quincy pride. The woman cuts him with a stare, her words haunting him like a curse.
"Tell Yhwach. His crown prince is dead."
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We will be coming for him next.
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Song inspo: Madness (Muse)
To recap: Ichigo is dead, Zangetsu is broken
Welp, this chapter is called Madness for a reason. Happy weekend you guys!