Cw: major character death.
When Wakaba had said they were going to raid a TV Station, Sojiro had thought they'd just charge in there screaming, not that she'd bring them to a literal armoury first.
"It's my latest collection of Cog-Psience gear, made by myself and my lovely daughter." Wakaba boasted. "Admittedly, it's not as comprehensive as Shido's collection, but it'll do in a pinch."
"Oh, can I have this?" Okumura asked, voice perfectly pleasant as she lifted a futuristic axe the size of her body off the wall.
"Of course." Wakaba smiled like there was absolutely nothing batshit insane about this situation at all. "I'd recommend pairing it with these arm braces. They're designed to augment physical strength, and…"
Sojiro tuned her out and turned back to the rest of the crew as the Tokyo survivors kitted themselves out with all sorts of strange devices. Letting out a sigh, he frowned as he grabbed a pistol, along with a metal cane that was hefty enough to break some electronics, or, if worst came to worst, some knees.
"Don't worry about the guns." Wakaba appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost. "They're loaded with stun bullets – they hurt like a bitch, but they won't kill anyone. There's been enough bloodshed today already."
Grabbing a few bits of armour to finish things off, the barista moved out of the other survivors' way. He watched sceptically as the politician grabbed a shield, while the yakuza man predictably raided the gun cabinet.
"Everyone ready?" The Cognitive Psientist asked as the commotion in the room started to die down. As everyone nodded, she continued. "Good. Tessai?"
The moustachioed man began to chant, and Sojiro shuddered, knowing what was about the happen next. The world warped around them as the twenty-odd people or so were wrenched out of the armory, and deposited down onto a street. His vision still spinning, Sojiro barely resisted hurling. Honestly, if that was what teleportation felt like, it was little wonder humans hadn't invented it yet.
"I'll take my leave now. Kisuke needs my aid." Tessai informed them politely and gave the group a bow. "Good luck, all of you."
Without another word, he disappeared in a flash. As Sojiro's vertigo abated, he finally got a good look at their surroundings. The TV station was a solid brick of a building - it was at least four stories tall and had a large antenna protruding from its roof. As he peered closer at said device, Sojiro noticed a rippling blue haze around it, like one of those deflector shield things that appeared in old-timey sci-fi shows. The barista supposed that explained why they couldn't just get Tessai or Niijima to shoot the damn thing down.
"So, what is our plan of attack?" Togo mused as she examined the station, dual sais strapped to a belt around her hips.
"Everyone, charge!" Mishima yelled, holding a sword in the air with a lot of spirit and very little technique.
Immediately, he rushed to the station's doors, screaming. Okumura and Kitagawa followed hot on his heels, the former letting out an excited yell while the latter looked far too serious for someone doing something so stupid.
Takemi blinked. "Well, that answers that, I guess."
Sojiro shook his head. Honestly, teenagers. At least Togo seemed to have her head on her shoulders. Currently, she was staring at her fellow youths like they were a bunch of idiots.
"Good luck, everyone." Niijima sighed, leaving the 'you're going to need it' unspoken. "I can keep an eye on the grounds, and possibly provide some long-range support, though I won't be going in with you for obvious reasons."
Right – the prosecutor had mentioned her vulnerability to Shido's brainwashing machines.
After a quick discussion, given all hopes of a sneak attack had been thrown out of the window, most of the rest of the group followed the teenagers' leads.
Sojiro, however, hesitated and cleared his throat as he looked at Niijima. "Hey…"
The woman grimaced. It was clear he wasn't the only one feeling awkward after their rocky start. "What is it, Sakura-san?"
"Boss." He corrected on instinct. "Look, your sister comes around frequently enough you might as well call me that too. If things go wrong today… can you keep an eye on Futaba and Ren for me?"
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she sobered up quickly and gave him a nod. "Of course I will. By the way… I'm sorry for my behaviour earlier this year. I shouldn't have pressured you like that."
Sojiro shook his head. "It's water under the bridge. You were just doing your job."
"I was doing it a bit too well though, wasn't I?" The prosecutor sighed.
He couldn't help but chuckle at her expression. "Trust me, I've been there and done that – there's a reason I retired to Leblanc. Anyway, I better be off – if I'm any slower, those kids will have finished the job before I even managed to get started."
Quickly praying that four decades of casual smoking hadn't ruined his lungs that much, Sojiro jogged towards the crowd.
…..
While Ulquiorra's initial Resurrección had basically been human outside of his wings, his Segunda Etapa was significantly more bestial. His horns had elongated, and thick, black fur covered most of his body, his fingers narrowing down into claws. A long tail swayed behind him, and with a flick, he smashed it into Ryuji and sent the teen flying. Akira's heart skipped a beat, and relief flooded through him as he saw the blond roll back to his feet.
He turned back to the Espada, biting his lip as he examined his foe - the only saving grace to this situation was that Uryū's Sprenger had managed to destroy his armour. Almost as if sensing Akira's attention, Ulquiorra suddenly lunged at him, forcing the teen to flip out of the way with a curse. The Espada suddenly disappeared, however, before flashing at the teen from a different direction and smashing his fist into his stomach. Searing pain erupted in his torso as Akira was swatted from the air like a bug, crash-landing in a pile of rubble.
Inky black spots entered his vision, and the frizzy-haired teen let out a hacking cough as he spat out a mouthful of blood. His consciousness faded momentarily, and Akira was only brought back to life when a wave of warmth ran through him, his agony slowly fading in his wake. Cracking upon his eyes, Akira saw a heatless flame burning away at the wounds that laced his body. Energy and determination rekindled in equal measure, the Shinigami leapt to his feet.
"Thank you, Ann!"
"No worries!" The blonde yelled out from the distance.
Both she and Renji had been forced back into their Bankais. The whip-wielding duo were taking on the brunt of Ulquiorra's assault - Renji shielded Ann with Hihiō Zabimaru's skeletal body as the blonde kept everyone in one piece with her healing flames. That left Makoto, Ryuji, and Uryū on the offensive, but the trio were clearly having no luck hurting their foe whatsoever - whenever they hit him, he just regenerated.
Akira gritted his teeth. Even with Ann's reinvigorating flames, he was still on his last legs, and the others were obviously in the same boat. Makoto was a mess, blistered and bruised as she swayed on her feet. Uryū's once pristine white uniform was in tatters, and if it wasn't for Futaba's armour, Ryuji would have been a red splat on the desert sands by now.
It was then, however, that the blond suddenly yelled. "Everyone, get out of here! I'll get him off your backs!"
"What?!" Akira snapped, heart skipping a beat as he whirled on his best friend. "Are you nuts?!"
Ryuji merely grinned, shooting him a tired but cocky thumbs up. "You're forgetting somethin', bro. If there's one thing I can do better than you lot, it's run! I'll lure him away, then come back and join you before you've even cracked open a Garganta!"
Akira swallowed, mouth dry as his hands trembled. For a moment, the boy was torn. Ulquiorra's Reiatsu was so oppressive, that it put the rest of the Espada to shame – he wasn't even near the Arrancar right now, but he still felt like he was being crushed. Plus, while the frizzy-haired teen didn't like dismissing his friend's strength, Ryuji had the least spiritual energy out of all of the Phantoms. At the same time… didn't Akira promise to believe in his friends? Didn't he promise to let them share the burden, instead of shouldering everything himself?
Meeting Ryuji's eyes, he saw nothing in them but steadfast conviction. His friend knew the risks, but had faith he'd be able to pull it off anyway.
"Fine." Akira dragged the words out of his mouth, shoving down his doubts and misgivings. "But come back safe, okay?" He grinned, and it didn't feel quite as unnatural as he thought it would. In fact, he had just enough bravado to finish things with a quip. "If you die, I'll haunt you."
"Hah, that's a promise!" Ryuji let out a belly-laugh, before turning to face Ulquiorra. "Oi, bat-face! Eat this!"
Pointing Sorakaizoku at the Espada, he shot a ball of electricity at the man. Unfortunately, without the armour to conduct it, the bolt of lightning did little but scorch the Arrancar's wings. The attack still managed to capture the Espada's attention, however, and that was all Ryuji needed.
The blond flicked open a panel on his suit of armour and pressed a button. Golden energy ran down the battlesuit like circuitry, glowing so brightly Akira was almost blinded. Ryuji then disappeared in a flash of shunpo so fast he might as well have teleported, and smashed his bat into Ulquiorra's face with enough force to snap the Espada's head to the side and shatter half of the bones in the upper part of his body.
The batlike Arrancar quickly righted himself, broken neck twisting back into position as he regenerated. He swiped at Ryuji, but the blond had already darted out of his way, and blew the Espada a raspberry before he ran into the distance. Silently, Ulquiorra flapped his wings and followed.
Watching the departing duo, Akira could do nothing but pray for his friend's safety.
…..
Ryuji's every breath felt like sandpaper in his throat, but he didn't dare slow down. He was acutely aware that his suit's overdrive mode wouldn't last long, and he'd have to deal with a lot worse than lactic acid and some muscle cramps if Ulquiorra caught up to him. Tapping the side of his mask, a screen popped up into the corner of his vision – while the range wasn't anything impressive, Futaba had programmed a short-distance sensor into the suit. As Ryuji watched the display, however, the blond's eyes widened. Despite everything, the Espada was pretty much on top of him.
Panic flared through him as the dot that represented Ulquiorra suddenly ballooned in size, and a blistering amount of rancid spiritual energy prickled at his back. Ryuji immediately dashed to the side, and the evasive manoeuvre saved his life. A glowing viridian light raced past his ear and hit the distance dunes. On contact, the attack detonated into a skyscraper-sized explosion of emerald green. Even though he was well clear of its radius, the sheer force of the blast sent the teenager flying. As he crash-landed, rolling to a halt, Ryuji coughed out a mouthful of sand. Ulquiorra's attack had kicked up a miniature storm, but even through the gale of dust, he could still see an ominous green glow. Ryuji cursed, biting his lip. It looked like the Espada was getting ready for round two.
The teenager cursed. He'd promised Akira he'd come back safely, and Ryuji refused to become a liar. It would break his buddy if the blond got himself killed here, and there was no way in fucking hell Ryuji was gonna do that to him. It was at that moment that he noticed something in the corner of his eye, and a grin split across Ryuji's face as he suddenly figured out how he was gonna get out of this mess.
All he needed to do was run just a tiny bit further. Luckily enough, there was nothing Ryuji did better.
Squaring his shoulders, the blond took in a deep breath and blotted out of the rest of the world. Nothing existed but him and his final destination. He'd either get there or die trying. Not even sparing Ulquiorra a single glance, he burst into shunpo. Friction burned at his body, and he ran so fast that each grain of sand that slipped through his suit and touched his skin felt like a bullet. Ryuji didn't dare let it distract him, however. Adrenaline coursed through him like lightning, and even if only for a moment, the blond felt invincible.
Of course, like all good things, it came to an end. The golden light running through his suit spluttered and died, the last-ditch boost finally wearing out. Ryuji cursed as he lost all momentum, his prior exhaustion hitting him like a ton of bricks. Ulquiorra reached him barely a second later.
The Espada clapped his hands together, a maelstrom of Reiatsu swirling around him like a hurricane. "Lanza del Relámpago."
Slowly, he spread his hands apart. A glowing green javelin made up of so much raw Reiryoku loose strands of energy thrummed around it like fire formed between his palms. Reaching back, Ulquiorra threw the glowing bolt of energy straight towards the blond.
Ryuji could do nothing but stare at his impending doom, mind completely blank.
It was then, however, that a loud cry suddenly echoed across the desert. "Tiburón, Cascada!"
A blast of water that dwarfed any tsunami engulfed the desert, almost sweeping Ryuji away in its midst. The flood crashed into Ulquiorra's lance, illuminating the water with an eerie green light, and the wave burst into an unfathomable number of droplets that splattered across the sky as the two almighty attacks negated each other.
Rain fell on Ryuji as he turned around. Standing on top of the scattered ruins of Las Noches' wall was Halibel. She was no longer donning the outfit she'd worn in the free Arrancars' base, having clearly released her Resurrección. White, fin-like pauldrons covered her shoulders, and a singular spike jutted out of her back like a shark. In one arm she wielded a massive sword, shaped akin to an animal's tooth. To cap things off, she'd raided the remnants of Shido's armoury, kitting herself out with battered but whole plates of spiritually resistant plating.
To make things better, Halibel wasn't alone either. Nelliel stood to her left, her torn green clothes obscured under her own set of armour. Ryuji's attention was quickly snapped away from the Arrancars, however, as he caught sight of Halibel's other companions. He let out a scream of delight when he saw Rukia standing tall and proud, not a single trace of the wounds Aaroniero inflicted on her remaining.
His good cheer didn't diminish at all when he realised Futaba was at her side, and unable to contain himself, Ryuji yelled. "Hey, Alibaba! The suit fucking rocks!"
"No shit, Skull!" She cackled as the delinquent teen ran to his friends' sides. "I made it!"
Sweeping her up into a hug, Ryuji held the younger girl tight as Rukia watched in fond amusement. A shit-eating grin then crossed his face, and the Shinigami squawked as he pulled her into the embrace.
"Gwah! Ryuji, unhand me at once!"
His grin spread. "Nuh uh – there's no escaping a Phantoms group hug!"
"Group hug! Group hug! Group hug!" Futaba chanted, mischief shining in her eyes.
Eventually, the trio pulled apart from each other, and Halibel shook her head in amusement. "Go." She instructed the Phantoms. "We will hold Ulquiorra at bay. End this however you must, Shinigami."
Rukia stepped forward and gave her a solemn bow. "Thank you. I promise I will remember this – once the war is over, I'll ensure that the Gotei 13 leaves Hueco Mundo in peace."
The former Espada returned the diminutive Shinigami's gesture, but Halibel had no time to chat as Ulquiorra started to prepare another attack. Both she and Nelliel pointed their weapons at the bat-like monster and disappeared in a flash of light, Halibel launching a wave of water at him as Nelliel struck his knees.
Ryuji turned away, scooping up a protesting Futaba and exchanging a grim glance with Rukia. "Come on - everyone's back this way."
As they ran towards the rest of the Phantoms, Arrancar Reiatsu prickling at their backs, Ryuji ignored how unnatural it felt to leave a fight unfinished. He would just have to trust in the two free Arrancars, the same way Akira had trusted in him.
…..
By the time Sojiro passed through the station's automatic door, the teenage terrors had unsurprisingly already started the fight. Okumura, Mishima, and Kitagawa were wailing on a security guard with thankfully blunt weapons, as another man whimpered on the ground and the poor secretary screamed. Still, perhaps treating her as a victim was unfair. The fact that the TV station's inhabitants hadn't been affected by the broadcast almost certainly meant they were Shido men, and given what the politician was planning to do to the people of Tokyo, Sojiro suddenly found he had no sympathy for any of them whatsoever. The barista narrowed his eyes, half tempted to join the kids. What sort of fucked up person just sits and watches as a madman tries to kill millions of people?
"Incoming!" Mifune gasped, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Three men from the stairwell to the right, and two from the left!"
Almost on cue, five guards raced down the stairwells, distributed exactly how the fortune teller had predicted. They dropped almost instantly, however, each getting shot in the foreheads one after the other. Toppling to the ground, their bodies jerked as the stun bullets did their work. For a moment, Sojiro was convinced Iwai had been the one to take them down. The barista knew enough about ballistics to realise that was some mighty fine shooting, and the ex-yakuza was the only one there who'd have the experience to do something like that.
Sojiro really should have predicted he was about to be proven incredibly wrong.
"Wow! This is just like Gun About!" Shinya marvelled, pistol in hand.
Sojiro's jaw dropped open. Okay, who the fuck gave the ten-year-old a gun?! What the hell was he doing here in the first place, anyway!?
"Y-young man!" Yoshida stammered, clearly as horrified about this turn of events as Sojiro was. "I appreciate the support, but perhaps you should fall back…"
"What? Hell no – if you're shooting like that, you can stay." Ohya gawped, and ignoring the boy's squawks, lifted him up into a piggyback so he could get a better vantage point.
Any further arguing was cut off when Mifune yelled about further reinforcements. This time, they came from behind the reception desk. Each of the men wielded a nasty-looking baton and had revolvers strapped to their hips. Somehow, Sojiro doubted they were loaded with mere stun bullets. Determined not to get shown up by a literal child, the barista quickly shot one in the chest before sniping another man in the shoulder. With alarming speed Kitagawa intercepted the remaining guards, cutting one down with his katana. Okumura, meanwhile, threw her axe at a man, knocking him straight to the ground. Leaping into the fray, Togo jabbed one of her blunted sais into another thug's guts, while Iwai launched several bullets into the crowd, taking the stragglers down.
"I think this floor is clear." Mifune announced after a moment's silence. "But I sense danger from above – be on your guard!"
Shaking his head, Sojiro wondered why the hell she knew that, but in the end decided to just go along with it. This day had been nuts enough already – he might as well pretend the fortune teller could actually see the future. Jogging up the stairs, he winced as he started to wheeze. Looks like he was right to be worried about the cigarettes. Silently, he gave a small promise to cut down his smoking once all this madness had been dealt with.
The second floor opened up into a series of long corridors, and it was immediately apparent what Mifune's prediction of 'danger' had been about. The halls were already swarming with guards, and Sojiro froze as he saw they were each donned in body armour almost identical to the stuff Wakaba had given them. He was tempted to ignore them completely and just keep climbing up the stairs, when a loud crash echoed through the stairwell.
Mifune paled, looking above them. "The staircase… they've sealed it off!"
Sojiro cursed, but he had no time to verify if she was right as the guards from the second floor finally noticed them.
"There they are – the intruders!" A man pointed towards the group. "Get them! Shido will reward you well in his promised land!"
From her spot in the middle of the group, Wakaba pursed her lips. "I thought there was a chance this could happen."
Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a small device and pressed a button. Sojiro blinked as the edges of his once-blunt weapons began to glow, and a strange tingling ran through his armour.
"I've activated your gear – you'll do more damage and resist it in turn!" The psientist instructed. "These men will fight to kill – don't hold back!"
Gunshots echoed through the air, as Shinya – still perched on Ohya's shoulders – took down several guards. This time though, while the boy's blasts still knocked them to the ground, once the electricity had run its course, the men got right back up again.
"Dammit!" The kid cussed. "I'm not gonna be able to one-shot them unless I can hit skin!"
"I can help with that!" Mishima announced, entering the fray with his short sword at the ready.
The boy cut down a goon, and while his form was poor, his weapons were not. Unfortunately, the teenager had left his back exposed, and a thug took the chance to swing a heavy bat down at it.
"Oh, no you don't!" Kawakami gasped, rushing to her student's side and shielding him from the strike with the staff she'd selected from Wakaba's armoury.
While the teacher's legs buckled under the strain of the blow, she managed to hold the man back, and Okumura took him out with a swing of her axe. Bullets flew through the air, live ammo and stun guns alike. Charging to the front of the group, Yoshida placed himself between the citizens and their attackers, covering them with his ginormous shield. Shido's thugs' bullets bounced off it harmlessly, and Iwai took the opportunity to lean over the politician's shoulder and snipe down some of the goons.
"I think we're going to have to split up." Wakaba called out from the rear, having pulled out a laptop from god knows where. "I've got the station's blueprints - by now, they've probably sealed off all the main stairwells at this level, but there are a couple of smaller access points that we can use to climb up, and an outside railing that'll lead us straight to the president's office."
Togo bit her lip. "… I see. If all of us go to one location at once, we'll alert our enemy to our plan of attack."
"Exactly." Wakaba nodded. "If we split up though, at least some of us should be able to keep moving. Let's try to meet up on the third floor at the staircase to the northwest."
Sojiro nodded in agreement and quickly scanned over the group. There was no way in hell he was leaving Wakaba's side, so he just needed to find a couple of people whose weapons complimented his own. One of the kids would be a good choice – they'd all kitted themselves out for close combat – and Takemi would do for the final member. Sojiro trusted her, and he was pretty sure the oblong device she'd taken from Wakaba's armoury was a flamethrower of some sort.
"Wakaba, Togo, Takemi, come with me. We'll form one group." Sojiro ordered, thankfully receiving no arguments.
He picked one of the halls at random before charging down it, firing at any guard who rushed him. Two thugs managed to get in close, and Togo darted forward, slipping her sais between the cracks in one of the men's armour and taking him down. Meanwhile, Sojiro walloped the other over the head with his cane. As he stumbled, Takemi performed the coup de grâce, utilising her knowledge of the fragility of the human body. In other words, she kneed the bastard in the balls.
The 'stairs' Wakaba directed them to ended up not being stairs at all, but a manhole in the roof of a small kitchenette. Dragging over a chair, she got Sojiro to knock off its cover while the other women guarded the door.
"I hope you're prepared to haul us up, big man." Wakaba joked, eyes glittering in amusement.
Sojiro rolled his in return, a pang of nostalgia running through him. God, he'd missed her so much. "Don't underestimate me – I might be old, but I haven't quite lost my edge yet."
Lifting himself into the narrow, dusty roof space, he helped pull the girls up one by one. They quickly found a trapdoor to the next floor, popping out of it and into yet another kitchenette. While the last story of the station had primarily been an administrative area, this one was kitted out for filming. As they slunk through a studio, Sojiro ignored his impulse to drink in the sights.
Unfortunately, their reprieve from Shido's goons didn't last long. Leaving the studio and returning to the halls, the barista froze as he saw a guard, and quickly pumped a round of ammo into his back. The sound of his shots echoed through the halls, however, summoning several more armoured thugs. Togo, Sojiro, Wakaba, and Takemi made quick work of them, though by the time they were done, the barista was panting. His energy was really beginning to wane.
No more guards assaulted them though, and as they approached their meeting spot, it quickly became obvious as to why. Nearly all the free citizens had beat their group to the punch, and were engaged in an all-out brawl by the final stairwell. Kitagawa and Okumura guarded each other's backs, while Mishima and Yoshida worked in tandem to shield Mifune as Kawakami smashed her staff over a man's head.
Half a dozen guards attempted to flank the resistance, and Takemi finally put her flamethrower into use. It wasn't fire that spurted from the nozzle, however. Instead, a beam of light blasted from it like a fictional laser. Sojiro blinked as she took down five men at once, before shaking his head and breaking the knees of a man who attempted to charge the doctor from behind.
Soon, the sounds of fighting died down, and by the time the commotion came to an end, it was the citizens who were left standing. Everyone took a moment to gasp for breath – Sojiro evidently wasn't the only one winded. The silence was broken when with a grunt, Iwai started to dismantle the barricade blocking their ascent to the final floor.
"Ah – allow me." Kitagawa cleared his throat, before slicing the chairs and tables to pieces with his now-activated laser blade.
At long last, the mismatched group climbed up the stairs and reached the final floor.
"Come on, everyone." Wakaba grinned. "We're almost there – let's shut down this broadcast, and reclaim Tokyo city!"
…..
Biting his lip, Akira paced across the desert sands, an open Garganta before him. The remaining Phantoms had taken the moment's reprieve to rest – not that Akira was getting much of that right now. His thoughts were consumed with worry for Ryuji, and the nervous tension racing through his body prevented him from taking a moment to simply breathe. Faith, Akira. He chided himself, rubbing his temples. I need to have faith in Ryuji!
Eventually, his trust was rewarded.
Uryū was the first to notice – the Quincy's posture snapped into alertness as his eyes landed on the horizon. "Everyone, look!"
The Phantoms let out a series of delighted yells as a cloud of dust approached them. At its helm was Ryuji, a none-too-happy Futaba riding on his back. Next to him marched Rukia, hale and hearty despite the brutal wounds she'd sustained before.
"Thank god." Akira gasped as he approached his friends, and after a moment's hesitation, he gave the blond a quick hug. "I don't think I've ever been so happy to see anyone in my life." He then turned to the girls, flashing them a cheeky grin. "Not that I'm not delighted to see you two lovely ladies, of course."
Futaba rolled her eyes affectionately while a grinning Rukia swatted Akira's shoulder. Unfortunately, the reunion was quickly brought to an end as Makoto cleared her throat.
"Shido has gone to Karakura." She explained to the women. "The end of reality as we know it could be imminent. We need to go, now."
"You're right." Akira nodded, smile fading away in place of a grim frown. "Phantoms, with me!"
Without a moment's hesitation, he ran into the Garganta, all of his closest friends at his side. The corridor between them and the World of the Living stretched on for ages – perhaps a side effect of his inexperience with inter-world travel – but it turned out to be for the best.
"Here." Futaba passed around a handful of syringes, each filled with a pale green liquid. "It's a homebrew healing elixir Nelliel and I whipped up. One shot of this, and you should feel like you're at one hundred per cent! Until you crash, anyway, but we can hopefully take out S-man before then!"
Akira's stomach twisted at the reminder. Any moment now, the fate of Tokyo would be decided. Shaking his head, the frizzy-haired teen dismissed his doubts and jabbed the syringe into his upper arm. Worrying wouldn't take Shido and Aizen down – the only thing he could do was try his damn hardest and trust in himself and his friends.
While the needle prickled at first, the sensation faded almost instantly as the strange substance did its work. The knots in his muscles loosened as the aches and pains littering his body vanished. His steps grew stronger, and a weight was lifted from his shoulders as his previously threadbare Reiryoku reserves pieced themselves back together.
"What is this stuff?" Ann blinked at her empty syringe. "It's great!"
Futaba cringed. "Uh, that's a trade secret."
"It's-!" Rukia beamed, but the hacker let out a yelp and covered Shinigami's mouth with her hand.
"You don't wanna know, okay!"
Ann grimaced and had the common sense not to pry any further.
Akira was quickly distracted though when to his right, Uryū started to pick up the pace. "We're almost there." The Quincy murmured, fire burning in his eyes.
The moment's levity came to an immediate end, the Phantoms sobering up instantly. As they crossed those final fateful steps back into the World of the Living, the motley group of teens were silent.
Stepping into the light, Akira's eyes widened instantly as they saw Karakura town – or to be more accurate, its remains. The small city had been devastated. The townhouses and apartments were little but rubble, and craters and fissures scarred the land. Some parts of the town flooded as other sections burned, smoke drifting across the empty streets as broken pipes spewed out their contents.
A strangled hiss escaped Uryū's throat, and Akira felt a pang of sympathy for the other teen - he could only imagine how devastated he'd feel if it was Shibuya in this state. At least everyone was evacuated. Akira's lips thinned. There was barely any Reiatsu present at all sans the giant blot where the Gotei 13 must be fighting Aizen.
Rukia inhaled sharply, noticing something Akira hadn't. "Wait… I can barely sense any Shinigami here! Renji, who was meant to be stationed in Karakura?!"
"Everyone!" The redhead cursed, muttering a string of expletives. Biting his lip, he swept his hand through his hair. "The Seireitei's being manned by a skeleton crew – every Captain was to mobilise in Karakura the second Aizen left Hueco Mundo!"
Blood running cold, Akira's head snapped towards Renji in shock. He could sense three or four Captains, and that was it.
"Come on." Uryū's voice was brusque. "Standing around here isn't going to help anyone. Let's end this before things get even worse."
"Aizen's over here. Follow me." Akira instructed, shunpoing over to the heart of the battle.
Urahara and Yoruichi were working in tandem, duelling Aizen together. The shopkeeper launched a blast of lightning at the man, and the traitor didn't even bother knocking it away. The reason for his lack of action became quickly apparent – while the electricity scorched his skin, the burn marks cracked like shattered glass before shifting, and when Aizen's skin stabilised, it was as if it hadn't been touched at all. A flicker of muted shock ran through Akira – he'd never seen any form of regeneration that worked quite like that. Then again, given Aizen's proclivity towards self-experimentation, perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised.
Further in the distance, Kyōraku clashed blades with Ichimaru, but it was immediately apparent how that particular brawl was going to end. The 8th Division Captain looked exhausted, his Shihakushō reduced to nothing but shreds while blood stained his skin. On the flip side, Ichimaru was practically unscathed, and a coy grin was spread across the Shinigami's face.
Finally, Akira flicked his eyes towards the final participant in these proceedings – Shido. The politician stood above the duelling warriors, watching the bloodbath with all the distant apathy of an emperor staring down at his gladiators. The man was distracted from his entertainment, however, when he finally noticed the Phantoms had joined the fray. A comically ugly snarl crossed Shido's face, and Akira couldn't help it as vindictive satisfaction bubbled in his stomach.
"Miss me?" The frizzy-haired teen taunted as he beckoned at the politician.
His lip curled, but Shido didn't bother giving him a response. The politician jerked his head, and a whooshing sound filled the air. If Akira had been even a second slower withdrawing his Zanpakutō, he would have been cleaved in two. Instead, he was simply sent flying back through the air as the glowing blade of Akechi's Shikai screeched against his sword.
A deep pang filled his stomach as he stared at his rival's face. The manic smile Akechi always wore in the heat of battle was gone, and there was no sign of his ruthless intellect or his bloodlust in his eyes. Instead, they were nothing but dark pits, dull and empty. Oh. Akira's insides churned as he finally realised something. So that's why Akechi refused to kill me. While most of his anger towards the detective had faded in the wake of discovering his fate, Akira would happily acknowledge that the brunet deserved to have his ass kicked, and would find it more than satisfying doing it himself. There was no joy to be gained fighting Akechi whatsoever though while he was like this.
"Akechi." He cried out, mouth dry as his heart fluttered in his chest. The hope that ran through Akira was feeble at best, but he knew if he didn't at least try he'd never forgive himself. "Snap out of it - this isn't you!"
"I…" For a moment, something akin to recognition flashed in Akechi's eyes, but it faded so quickly Akira wasn't sure if it had even existed. "Shut up. Shut up shut up shutup shutup! I'll kill you. I'LL KILL YOU!"
Something deeply unpleasant lurched in the frizzy-haired teen as the detective pointed his Shikai outwards. An explosion of shadows burst off the blade, and Akira flinched as he felt a flicker of anger in his chest, but the sensation quickly went away as Tasogare no Dorobō stirred in his heart. His eyes blew wide open, however, as Akechi's body suddenly contorted, limbs snapping into unnatural angles as spittle dripped down his chin. A guttural snarl escaped Akechi as plumes of darkness slowly began wafting off him. Unbelievable - he'd used Bōsō Jiken on himself.
"Akira!" Makoto yelled, flashing to his side. Readying her fists, she stared down at the brainwashed detective. "I'll hold him back – go and change Aizen's heart!"
"No." The frizzy-haired teen shook his head, voice brooking no argument. "No more splitting up – the only reason any of us survived Ulquiorra was because we worked together. From now onwards, we fight as one."
As he turned back to Akechi, Akira admitted that deep down inside, that wasn't the only reason why he refused to leave this fight. The detective had been turned into Shido's puppet because he'd tried to stand up for him – Akira owed it to his rival to at least try to knock him back to his senses.
Almost instantly, the brunet bypassed Makoto in favour of lunging at the Shinigami. Akira flicked his blade downwards, sweeping Akechi's blazing broadsword to the side. The detective flipped away, disengaging, and the rivals prowled around each other like wildcats. This time, it was Akira who broke the stalemate.
He charged at his rival, releasing Tasogare no Dorobō without uttering a word. The Shikai immediately warped into its flamberge state, and Akira reached to the tip of his forehead, summoning his Hollow mask. If there was any time to use the dark power that ran through his veins, it was now. Not that he should be calling it that, really – Akira knew by now that his Hollowfication was simply a technique, not a moral failing.
The rest of the Phantoms had similar ideas, those with Shikais releasing them as everyone else went on the assault. An inhuman snarl escaped Akechi's throat and he shot a wild barrage of Ceros in all directions. Akira was forced to halt in his tracks, and even with the additional strength his mask gave him, he struggled to deflect the detective's blasts. The boom of thunder suddenly echoed through the air, and a ball of lightning pierced the veil of red and smashed into Akechi's side, sending him stumbling. The celebrity retaliated almost instantly, biting his thumb and blasting a beam of tainted darkness straight at Ryuji, who was thankfully fast enough to scurry out of the way.
Taking advantage of the detective's distraction, Akira closed the distance between them and sliced down his blade. Faster than a viper, Akechi caught the black metal in his grip, and while the sword bit through his flesh and nibbled into his bones, Akira was halted in his tracks. Swinging Akira around, Akechi tossed him away like a ragdoll, sending him flailing through the sky. Akira fell, gravity pulling him toward the ground as his Reishi footholds failed. The teen plummeted at least several metres before he managed to right himself, a wave of relief crashing through him.
Akira glanced back towards the battle just in time to see Ann and Renji lash out at the detective with their Zanpakutōs. Sweeping Bōsō Jiken out in a wide arc, Akechi deflected both blows with ease. The whip-wielders had brought Rukia the time she needed to pin him in place with a Rikujōkōrō, however, the shards of light circling the detective's midsection. With a yell, Makoto flashed behind him, Shunkō flaring around her shoulders as she stabbed a Seele Schneider towards Akechi's back.
"Wait!" Uryū yelled, a note of panic in his voice. The Quincy had hung back from the fray, standing protectively in front of the unarmed Futaba. "He's in his human body – he won't be able to take anywhere near as much damage as the Arrancars could!"
His cry made Makoto falter, and by the time she adjusted her blow to something less lethal, it was too last. With a desperate howl, Akechi shattered Rukia's Rikujōkōrō and flashed straight at the Lieutenant. Rukia whipped out her Zanpakutō, ready to parry the detective's strike, but it turned out to be a feint. Releasing a hand from Bōsō Jiken's hilt, he punched her in the face with enough force to send her flying.
Flashing to her side, Akira caught Rukia before she hit the ground, Kaidō already glowing in his palm. Running the green light over her cheek, he winced as he felt the tell-tale signs of a fracture.
"Thank you." Rukia gave him an appreciative smile, but as she turned back to face the fray, her brows furrowed pensively. "I must say, this poses a conundrum. Given our numbers, Akechi should be easy pickings, but…"
"But we can't inflict any fatal damage, otherwise, well... he'll just die." Akira concluded with a frown.
Sure, he was more than aware that the detective wasn't a saint, but beating the ever-loving shit out of him and flat-out killing Akechi were two different things. Akira could probably rationalise it if he tried – the detective had committed countless atrocities in the name of his revenge, after all – but quite frankly, he wasn't sure if he wanted to step down that path. The Phantoms were hardly squeaky clean – paying evil unto evil was their whole thing – but they weren't murderers, either. Well, except for Uryū that one time, but killing a centuries-old Shinigami was a very different matter compared to slaying a living, breathing teenage boy. Akechi was just an arrogant kid who'd gotten played like a fiddle by a man far eviller than he'd ever be.
The detective wasn't beyond redemption – even if he couldn't make up for all the harm he'd caused, he had the capacity to at least both want and try to. At the bare minimum, Akira thought he deserved to get the chance to make amends for what he'd done.
A shout snapped Akira out of his thoughts. "Hey!" Futaba hurried to his side, Uryū helping keep her afloat. "I think I've got a plan."
"Yeah?" Akira asked, heart skipping a beat.
"I've been thinking… most Shinigami have some level of immunity to their own techniques, and Shido's mindwiping is based on Akechi's Shikai. While I know it's normally too powerful for Tasogare no Dorobō to snap people out of it, if Akechi has more resistance to Shido's brainwashing than most…"
A glimmer of hope flickered in his chest. "We might be able to save him."
Futaba nodded earnestly, and Akira took a steadying breath in and out. He couldn't let his hope lead him astray – as much as he wanted this idea to work, he knew he had to be realistic, in case everything turned out to be for naught.
"Rukia, see if you can find the opportunity to seal him again." The frizzy-haired Shinigami instructed. "That should buy me enough time to hit him with my Shikai."
"With pleasure." She bowed her head before squeezing his shoulder. "Let's rescue him together."
Their eyes met, and despite everything, Akira grinned. Despite their several-month separation, Rukia had slotted back into his life like she'd never left. It was clear the Shinigami could see the torment in his heart despite everything Akechi had done to him. Then again, perhaps it wasn't so surprising Rukia was keen to save the brunet's life – she'd gotten to know him too, even if only as the Detective Prince.
In the distance, Ryuji and Akechi traded blows, the former wielding Sorazaikozu as a makeshift sword. While the blond had the strength to deflect Bōsō Jiken's blows, he simply lacked Akechi's reflexes. The detective quickly overwhelmed him and slipped his blade past Ryuji's guard. Before he could disembowel the delinquent, however, Ann hurtled a fireball at his face, forcing Akechi to deflect it. Renji hovered on the outskirts of the fray, looking for a way to intervene, but it would be far too risky swinging Zabimaru around while Ryuji was still battling Akechi at close quarters.
Returning to the fight, Akira closed in on Akechi's flank. Makoto caught sight of him, and the brunette mirrored his movements, ready to catch the teen in a pincer. The detective sensed their approaching Reiatsu, however, and leapt higher into the air before blasting a supercharged Cero at Ryuji. The blond cursed, scrambling out of the way as the attack careened straight past him.
"Makoto, help me distract him!" Akira ordered. "Futaba's got a plan!"
"Got it!"
The student council president yelled, illuminated by the radiant power of her Shunkō, and launched a ball of azure energy at his rival. Akechi countered it with yet another blood-red Cero, and the attacks exploded into technicolour lights as they smashed into each other. Blinded by the flash, Akechi failed to see Akira dash at him from the side until it was too late.
The rivals locked swords, and the world seemed to fade away as they duelled for dominance. Akechi's power was as overwhelming as ever, and Akira's muscles ached while his flamberge trembled in his hands. He met the detective's eyes, however, and a wave of resolve ran through the frizzy-haired teen. Opening his mouth, Akira charged a Cero of his own, and Akechi quickly mirrored his movements. As soon as the orbs of light touched, they denoted in the boys' faces and sent both teens flying.
Akira coughed out the smoke from his lungs, letting his regeneration heal his blistered skin. Across Karakura's skies, Akechi attempted to do the same. Before the detective could finish recovering, however, Zabimaru lashed at him, scouring a deep blow across his back. The enraged detective whirled around, snarling, and was immediately greeted with one of Ann's fireballs, which hit him in the chest.
The detective staggered back, the successive attacks wearing him down, and finally, Rukia got the time to strike. "Carriage of thunder, bridge of a spinning wheel. With light, divide this into six! Bakudō #61. Rikujōkōrō!"
Six beams of light shot through the air, pinning themselves around Akechi's torso. Akira swooped in instantly, eerily focused despite the hammering of his heart, and Tasogare no Dorobō smoothly warped back into its dagger form. He threw the ebony blade through the air as Akechi frantically struggled against his restraints. The golden Kidō construct started to shatter, but it was too late, and Tasogare no Dorobō plunged into the detective's soul.
Akira closed his eyes as he was immediately hit by a turbulent storm of pure, unadulterated rage. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the artificial hatred - he'd managed to do this for Sae, and he sure as hell could do it for Akechi. Suddenly, he snapped through Bōsō Jiken's primal fury and found himself freefalling until he plunged into something cold. It submerged him like a lake, and Akira recognised the sensation instantly. Pushing through Shido's control, he found iron bars surrounding the detective's heart, just like the ones that had once plagued the frizzy-haired teen's soul. Through the metallic sea, he could sense something else – a dark, burning miasma, accompanied by a brilliant, almighty light. At last, he'd reached his rival.
Continuing to dig his blade in deeper, Akira cried out to Akechi's heart. Remember who you are! Remember your hatred, remember your vengeance! Remember your mother, and remember me! Most importantly, remember! YOUR! JUSTICE!
At long last, Tasogare no Dorobō slipped through Shido's bars, and finally, Akira felt Akechi's voice scream out to him in turn. Metal bent and shattered as he tore his Zanpakutō from the detective's chest and snapped back to reality. It hit him with all the force of a freight train, and Akira staggered, gasping for air as he quickly stabilised himself.
He had no time to worry about himself, however, and immediately rushed to his rival's side. The brunet gasped, collapsing onto all fours as Bōsō Jiken's dark plumes faded away and his Hollow mask shattered into pieces.
"Akechi! Are you-"
Before Akira could help him upright, the detective grabbed him by the lapels and hauled himself to his feet. Bracing himself against the frizzy-haired teen, Akechi met his eyes, and Akira stilled. Now that he was no longer wearing an eerily placid mask, it was obvious how haggard the other teen looked. Dark, exhausted rings were burnt under his eyes, and his hair was lank and greasy. Despite that though, determination seeped through his every feature, and when the detective finally spoke, his voice was firm with conviction.
"Kill me."
"W-what?" Akira wheezed, his rival words stabbing into him like a blade to the stomach.
The detective let out a derisive snort. "Are you deaf? I told you to kill me. Cut this body down and send my soul to the Soul Society."
"Don't be ridiculous!" The frizzy-haired teen snarled, heart pounding in his chest. "You have no right to give up now – so what that your ridiculous plan failed? You owe it to all the people you hurt to see this through to the end – to make sure Shido pays for everything he ordered you to do!"
This time, when his rival laughed, it was sardonic. "Do you really think so little of me? I'm not a coward, Kurusu – I'd put up with the humiliation of failure if it meant I could still put that bastard in his place. But… I know when I've lost. Even now, I can feel Shido's talons sinking their way back into my mind - any second, and I'll be back under his thrall."
Akira froze, eyes widening. Panic slowly settling in, he got ready to retort, to tell Akechi to hold on just a little bit longer, but then he saw it – the darkness nibbling into the corner of his rival's sclera.
The detective's grip on his Shihakushō tightened, and when he leant in closer, Akira saw the determination in his eyes wasn't actually determination at all – it was desperation. "I refuse to be his puppet a second longer! I'd rather die!" Akechi's voice trailed off, and he simply sounded tired. "Don't deny me the last bit of autonomy I have, Kurusu. Please."
Akira swallowed, ice running through his veins. "We-we can save you." His words sounded hollow, even to him.
"You really are naïve." Akechi smirked wryly. "You can't save me. You never could. My fate was sealed the second I met Shido." He stared into Akira's eyes, and the frizzy-haired teen quickly picked up the words he had left unsaid. You can't save me, and I don't WANT to you too.
Akira choked, stomach lurching as a maelstrom of emotions assaulted him. There was fury, of course – how dare Akechi ask this of him?! – but there was also so much more. Grief for what could have been – what should have been. Hatred for Shido towards ruining him, ruining the both of them, and damning them to this fate. But then, there was also acceptance, a steely sense of determination that flooded through him from head to toe.
"I have one condition." Akira responded, voice low.
The detective arched a brow. "Oh? Name your price."
"When we meet again… you owe me a proper fight."
Akechi let out an incredulous laugh, which quickly broke off as his body contorted with pain. Despite that, though, he still managed to force a grin. "Hah… you truly are incomprehensible. Very well. It's a promise."
Akira didn't hesitate – if he didn't strike now, he wouldn't be able to grant Akechi his last wish at all. Tasogare no Dorobō morphed back into a plain katana as he plunged it into Akechi's heart. Blood dripped down from the detective's mouth, and he collapsed against Akira in a sick mockery of an embrace as the life left his body.
"Thank you… Akira." He wheezed, his body growing still.
It was still warm when Akechi's spirit materialised behind it, and his rival's corpse still cradled in his arms, Akira tapped the tip of his Zanpakutō against the detective's forehead. The brunet looked completely at peace as a butterfly fluttered through the air, and he disappeared into motes of blue light.
Trembling, Akira cradled his body as the rest of the Phantoms gathered, Ann rubbed soothing circles into the frizzy-haired teen's back as Ryuji gripped his shoulder. In the background, someone sobbed – judging by the cadence, it was probably Futaba. Eventually, Akira took a deep breath in as he rubbed the tears from his eyes, barely listening as he heard Rukia gently asking the others to give him some space.
In a flicker of shunpo he descended to the city, and gently laid Akechi's body down onto a rooftop. The detective's eyes were closed, and if it wasn't for the droplets of red staining his already paling lips, he almost could have been asleep.
As he watched his rival's remains, Akira's grief evaporated as an inferno of sheer and utter hatred began to burn inside him. The teen clenched his fist so tightly blood began to trickle down his hands. Glaring at the sky, his Reiatsu began to blaze. Shido would pay for this, along with all of the other untold amounts of suffering he'd inflicted on the world! The politician's reign of terror would end right here, right now – Akira wouldn't let him hurt even a single more soul!
Shunpoing back to the Phantoms, he turned to his crew, careful not to let his fury overtake him. He didn't dismiss the emotion, however, and let the embers of his anger buoy him. Looking around, Akira saw the rest of the team were in a similar state. Ryuji scowled ferociously, a mirror of the anger in Akira's heart. Ann's skin was pale, and her lips pursed into a thin line as she trembled with an emotion unknown. Futaba's eyes were puffy, and by her side, Makoto trembled with barely contained rage. Uryū wore a look of contempt at the latest reminder of Shido's repugnance, while Renji had narrowed his eyes into vicious slits. Finally, Rukia bore a solemn frown that was as cold and unforgiving as the winter wind.
"We'll avenge him." Ryuji spoke first, cradling Sorakaizoku. "I wasn't his biggest fan, but even Akechi deserved better than that."
"No." Akira shook his head and gave his best friend a subdued smile. "We won't do this for vengeance – when we take Shido down, it'll be for the sake of justice. Everyone, let's go!"
Without a moment's hesitation, he charged in Aizen's direction, the rest of the Phantoms following him with a rallying cry. Converging onto the primary battlefield, Akira saw he'd arrived in the nick of time. Aizen swatted Yoruichi away like she was nothing more than an annoying bug, and she smashed straight through several buildings before coming to a halt. Urahara attempted to avenge her, but was quickly cut down with a spray of blood.
The Shōten crew had managed to buy Akira the handful of seconds he needed, however, and when Aizen spun around to face the Phantoms, it was too late.
"Bankai!" Akira roared, black and red ripples emanating from his Zanpakutō. "Kokoro no Kaitou-dan!"