Chapter 36 - Birth of a God

Fake Karakura Town

With Grimmjow

Grimmjow growled, swiping his claws in front of him to clear the dust from his view. He collapsed to a knee, slouching in exhaustion. A myriad of cuts and bruises were etched across his body, but his eyes still burned with a defiant spark.

They'd all been played by Aizen. Yammy and Wonderweiss were dead; Ulquiorra had run off somewhere. Barragan, the traitor, had struck some kind of deal with the Shinigami. That meant he was on his own.

If this human city was to be his grave, then at least he'd sown it with enough blood for him to feast on throughout the afterlife.

Love and Rose were down for the count, and Kensei, the only one still standing before him, was looking about as tired as he was.

Grimmjow hissed as two more captains flash-stepped near the white-haired brawler.

"Captain Kyoraku, Captain Ukitake," Kensei huffed, nursing his still-bleeding neck wound. "I'm glad for the backup. We should finish him off now. That bestial hollow is too dangerous to leave alive."

Grimmjow laughed, the sound accompanied by a sickly crackle as it choked past bloody lungs, doubling him over. He tried to drag himself upright, but his body would not obey his will. His resurreccion dissipated, and he coughed, blood splattering onto the ground as the harsh sound echoed off the ruined buildings around them. When death did not come, however, he glared back up toward the Shinigami trio. "What's the matter…" He ground out; "Afraid to finish off a wounded animal? Go on, do it!"

Kensei's lips curled up in a snarl as he marched forward.

"Wait, Kensei." It was Captain Kyoraku.

Captain Ukitake stepped forward, too. "We've spilled enough hollow blood today. Killing another Vasto Lorde will only further disrupt the balance of souls."

"So the saint speaks," Grimmjow taunted, though his voice lacked its usual ferocity.

"This isn't about sainthood, hollow." It was Kyoraku who answered. "There's nothing more I want right now than to exterminate every last one of your kind, but it would be one and the same as killing our own. The balance of souls must be preserved."

Grimmjow frowned. He did not understand. "You're just going to let me go?"

Kyoraku scoffed, then. "No. Locking you up would be more fitting. Let you stew on your defeat."

The Sexta Espada growled, baring his fangs again. "You think a cell can hold me? You think I'll just sit and rot-"

"It's not just any cell," Ukitake interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "Muken is where we keep those who are too dangerous for the world but too valuable to kill. You'll be in good company with Starrk."

The mention of the Primera Espada gave Grimmjow pause, as a flicker of surprise danced across his eyes. He quickly schooled his features into a defiant glare. "Whatever," he growled. "Throw me in with the rest of the trash, but don't think for a second that this is over."

With Ulquiorra

The sound of Soi-Fon's last, tattered breath echoed maddeningly inside Yoruichi's mind. She'd heard Kyoraku's order to stand down, but she tossed away her soul pager, ignoring the command and preventing anybody else from bothering her remotely.

Instead, she turned toward Ulquiorra with renewed ferocity, each punch, each kick, carrying the weight of her grief with no thought of strategy in mind.

"Your form was better when you fought Grimmjow last time we met," the Cuatra Espada deadpanned. He redirected a roundhouse kick with his wings, almost clipping Yoruichi with his lance before she disengaged and put some distance between them.

Ulqiorra regarded her impassively with his faded, cyan eyes, analyzing each heave of her breath, and the tumultuous reiatsu raging within her body. "Our leaders have ordered us to cease hostilities. Why do you persist?"

His only answer was a fierce cry as the Goddess of Flash launched another assault, kicking off with a shunpo that left a streak of afterimages behind her. Ulquiorra dodged, his face instinctively scrunching into a frown. "This is nonsensical. We do not need to continu-"

"Because she mattered!" Yoruichi screamed. "She was my comrade!" Mustering a burst of speed, she danced behind the Arrancar. Her fist was met with a black, clawed palm, and they remained deadlocked for a brief moment before mutually disengaging.

"A vicious hollow like you would never understand," Yoruichi seethed as she avoided a thrust from Ulquiorra's lance before capitalizing on the overextension to land a spinning elbow into his temple.

The Cuatra Espada tumbled through the air before flaring his wings and righting himself. He shook his head, blinking rapidly as his vision refocussed.

In Hueco Mundo, the death of a hollow was a mere footnote - the expected conclusion to many solitary lives in a land where only the strongest survived. Until Aizen, there was no sense of camaraderie among hollows. Not as far as Ulquiorra knew.

He sensed the disappearance of Yammy and Wonderweiss's reiatsus in the distance. Grimmjow's was waning, too. He was the last Espada here who was still loyal to Aizen - Barragan didn't count, of course.

He deflected another of Yoruichi's blows, then, raising his lance for a counterattack. As he looked into the accusatory eyes of his foe, however, he hesitated. That hesitation allowed Yoruichi to once again twirl out of harm's way.

This Shinigami was disobeying orders simply to avenge the Captain he had just killed.

Not for the first time, Ulquiorra considered the impact of a single life.

Whose was the life that he treasured most? Lord Aizen. He had killed in Aizen's name, and committed all manner of atrocities while following Aizen's orders.

But he had been misled. He wasn't briefed on this plan. The Aizen who he followed here was an illusion superimposed on Kaname Tosen.

Ulqiorra frowned, his usually impassive demeanor giving way to a rare moment of introspection. Yamamoto was dead. In his Segunda Etapa - especially enhanced by the Hogyoku shard Aizen had given him - he believed that there was a world where he could fight his way out of this place.

But where would he go? Back to Aizen, or Barragan? He was no leader. He had no ambition - no vision.

Could he return to being an aimless hollow?

No. He knew too much now; he had experienced too much to forget all of that and regress to what he once was.

Even though he had always followed Aizen's orders without question, a part of him was curious about the grand vision of the future that Aizen had painted. Now, though, as he thought of the battles he had fought, and the Espada that had fallen along the way, an undeniable doubt clawed at the edge of his mind.

Were we all… really just pawns in Aizen's game?

He needed to know.

That one thought spread like a crack in a dam, and suddenly, a flood of realizations began to pour through. Harribel's willingness to sacrifice… Nnoitra's relentless aggression, even Grimmjow's defiant spirit - they were all expressions of a desperate search for meaning in a life that was completely fabricated by Aizen. Not to mention Wonderweiss, whose entire existence as a hollow had been rendered meaningless due to Aizen's 'experiments.'

He hadn't realized the camaraderie he'd felt among those Espada until they were gone. Now, it was just him.

Alone.

As the thoughts stewed, a sense of betrayal began to simmer within Ulquiorra.

He snarled, brandishing his energy lance as he flapped his wings to gain altitude. "Lanza Del Relámpago."

The Goddess of Flash's eyes widened as she saw the missile hurtling toward her. Her shunko flared as she maneuvered around the weapon, seeing the Espada before her materialize a second lance in his palms as the first one sailed past her.

Flying many times faster than the speed of sound, she was caught completely off guard as a cataclysmic shockwave from below bowled her over. By the time she found her bearings and turned toward the Espada, all she caught was a glimpse of a Garganta closing.

Elemental Nations

While Isshin was trying to piece together what had happened in the Elemental Nations, Ichigo frowned. There was an odd sensation that almost felt like… reiatsu? But it was not any ordinary reiatsu he had felt before. He closed his eyes, focussing his attention onto the thread of energy he felt, tracing it… following it, until he gasped, lurching forward.

"Dad…" Ichigo began, his voice dangerously low. "Are you feeling this…?"

Isshin turned to face his son. The way Ichigo's hand trembled as he raised Tensa Zangetsu toward Aizen's crystal prison implied something Isshin did not want to think about.

"Feeling what?" The elder Kurosaki's voice was steady, but his expression betrayed his concern.

"Aizen's spiritual pressure… What the hell is that?" Ichigo's words were laced with a fear that he had never allowed himself to show before, and it was infectious.

A cold shiver ran down Isshin's spine, accompanied by a nagging fear.

Isshin's frown deepened. "I don't sense anything."

Madara shook his head. "Neither do I. Aizen's gone, boy. Hashirama used the Reaper Death Seal. The ultimate sealing jutsu that costs its user's life."

Isshin nodded. He desperately wanted to believe that Madara was right. However, deep in his heart, he could not help but feel that Madara's words were an admission of their own vulnerability.

No sooner had the thought occurred to him, a blinding light erupted from the crystal. It was accompanied by a high pitched screech, as if the heavens themselves were splitting open. Isshin squinted, his heart sinking as cracks began to form within Aizen's prison.

"No…" Mito whispered, staring disbelievingly as the impossible happened right before her. Hashirama's prison of diamond, the unbreakable barrier of the hardest substance in existence, was giving way.

The diamond exploded outwards in a cascade of clinking crystals, as a figure emerged from its latticed shards. It stood tall, with the poise not of a prisoner who had just broken free, but of a god stepping forth from his shattered temple.

Aizen loomed before them, Kyoka Suigetsu in hand and six, butterfly-like wings spread wide behind his back, the Hogyoku radiating violent, purple reiatsu in the center of his chest.

Nobody moved a muscle. Isshin, Ichigo, Madara and Mito; they were all warriors who had faced death countless times without flinching. Now, though, with shards of Hashirama's crystal strewn across the battlefield, they stood amidst the remnants of their hope, frozen by the weight of a power that defied the laws of their world.

Madara growled, gritting his teeth as he dragged himself closer to Hashirama subconsciously. Take the nine-tails, Madara. Become the Ten-Tails' Jinchuriki and you will have power surpassing that of Hashirama and Aizen!

Madara gnashed his teeth in frustration as he weighed his options.

"Dad, do you know sealing jutsu? Bankin or something?" Ichigo was frantic.

Isshin shook his head. "Sorry, Ichigo. I can do kido up to the low eighties, but that's not going to stop Aizen… Especially if his reiatsu has reached a point where I can't even sense him."

The former Squad 10 Captain gripped Engetsu, glancing back and forth between Aizen, his son, and the drained Madara.

Madara's spiritual pressure was low - barely above that of a lieutenant at this point. He was hunched over Hashirama's corpse, as if protecting its sanctity, even in death. Gruesome, grey rods jutted out from his back, and the anger in his features as he glared at Aizen could not mask his fatigue.

Isshin was certain that he could finish off the Arrancar without any trouble. Hashirama's widow, too - he had forgotten her name.

He doubted he would be a match for Aizen, though, even in his Bankai.

As a Shinigami, his next course of action was clear. He needed to dispatch Madara first and then do his best to stall Aizen for the Gotei 13 and Royal Guard to prepare.

As a human, though, Isshin held no animosity toward Madara. The Arrancar had given everything in a bid to protect the Elemental Nations. In fact, as he sensed the hopelessness and despair in Madara's reiatsu, all he felt toward the Arrancar - and the Elemental Nations, as a whole - was pity.

In Hashirama lay a man who had dreamed of peace and unity, yet lived and died in endless battle, his greatest efforts not enough to protect his home. He had also clearly used some kind of technique that sealed his soul; his soul ribbons were completely severed, so he had no afterlife ahead of him.

In Madara he saw Yamamoto's killer, but beyond that, he saw a tragic shadow of Hashirama. Aizen had manipulated Madara's desire for revenge against the Shinigami. In a way, Isshin understood and respected Madara's heart.

The entire Seireitei saw what Yamamoto had unleashed with Zanka no Tachi - South. They all felt the vengeful sorrow within Madara's reiatsu as their own leader reanimated Madara's village against him in psychological warfare. Yamamoto's shortsighted, ruthless ways were one of the reasons Isshin had deserted in the first place.

That same vengeful sorrow burned within Madara now, but at a fraction of its former strength. His heart was willing but his body was not. Whatever had happened to Madara between Fake Karakura town and now, there was absolutely nothing he could do to Aizen in his current state.

Killing Madara now would be so easy.

Isshin drew a deep breath.

The Shinigami in him argued for duty, whereas the human in him whispered of mercy.

Isshin's thoughts turned toward his son - whenever he thought of Masaki, it was accompanied by a sense of shame at failing to protect her. Now, however, feeling the determination and purity within his son's reiatsu, he smiled. He was no longer Isshin Shiba. He hadn't been that man for a long time. He was Isshin Kurosaki; a human… a father.

Masaki… you're going to be so proud when I tell you all the stories of our amazing son.

"Ichigo, take care of Yuzu and Karin," Isshin said plainly as he began walking toward Aizen. "Madara. Get out of here."

"Dad… What…? We'll fight Aizen together and then you can take care of them yourself." Despite his words, Ichigo's voice lacked conviction.

Isshin paused with a chuckle. He absentmindedly noted the Gedo Mazo scooping up Madara, Mito, and Hashirama's corpse before bounding away. He allowed them to go. Jerking his head toward Madara and Mito, he raised his voice; "They've got the right idea. This fight is beyond you, Ichigo."

Aizen spoke then, as the blinding light around him subsided.

"Such confidence, Isshin. I wonder… How long would you last against my transcended powers?" He flexed his fingers, grinning as he raised his reiatsu. "You would be a great warm up candidate to help me stretch my muscles."

Hashirama's giant trees and roots splintered in the distance, and slabs of stone around them crumbled to dust. Even though he couldn't sense it, Isshin still felt Aizen's titanic reiatsu drag him to his knees. Ichigo did not fare much better beside him.

"Ichigo! Get out of here - Now!" Isshin roared, struggling back to his feet as he braced against Engetsu.

"What-"

"Go! Nel and Harribel are out there somewhere. Find them, save them. Hail the royal guard…" Isshin's voice seemed to weaken as he spoke. He clenched his teeth, turning to face his son directly. "If you stay here you'll just be another one of Aizen's victims."

Tensa Zangetsu felt heavy in Ichigo's hand. His heart was heavier still. "This is not goodbye, dad. There's more about mom that you've promised to tell me."

Isshin nodded. "Yeah, I'll tell you later. Now go."

Aizen cocked his head as he watched Ichigo leave. "Bold words, Isshin. I wonder how you plan to uphold them."

Isshin Kurosaki stared down Sosuke Aizen, the man who cost him and Masaki their powers. The man who's ambition had sent ripples through every realm of existence.

He felt anger, but he also knew the limit of his own power.

There was a calmness in his eyes, a resignation to the fate that he knew awaited him if they crossed swords. He knew this battle was likely his last, that the strength of his opponent far surpassed his own. Yet, there was no fear in his heart, only the unyielding spirit of a Shinigami Captain who would fight until his final breath.

Aizen regarded him with a cold curiosity, the slight tilt of his head betraying his amusement.

With a fierce battle cry, Isshin charged, Engetsu ablaze with his soul's fire. He fought with wild abandon, each strike fueled by thoughts of his children, of the world he wished to leave behind for them. His attacks were relentless, a storm of steel and spirit energy, but the transcended, winged Aizen moved with an otherworldly grace, countering Isshin's every move with effortless ease.

The former Squad 10 Captain unleashed kido after kido, each incantation falling from his lips like prayers. "Hado #58, Tenran!" A cyclone burst forth, aiming to engulf Aizen, but it dissipated against an invisible barrier. Isshin pressed on, his reiatsu flaring as he called forth another spell. "Bakudo #63, Sajo Sabaku!" Chains of light shot towards Aizen, seeking to bind him, but they shattered like glass upon contact.

"What a pity," Aizen sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I was hoping you could at least muster enough strength for me to have some fun."

The futility of his plight did not dampen Isshin's resolve. He just needed to buy time, and if Aizen wanted to taunt him, then so be it. He did not fight with any hope of victory, but with the determination to stand for what he believed in, for the love of his family, and the hope that Ichigo could pull through with the Royal Guard.

That didn't mean he wouldn't use every last ounce of power at his disposal, though.

As Aizen dashed forward, a thunderous gale gave him pause. "...Oh? What is this, Isshin?"

The burly man stood resolute, holding Engetsu before him with a two-handed stance. The air around him fizzled with tension, the very atmosphere crackling with energy. He took a deep breath, his predatory gaze fixed on the enemy before him.

"Engetsu, it's time," he whispered solemnly.

The response from his Zanpakutou was immediate. The blade in his hand began to vibrate, its edge igniting with a fierce, blue flame.

Aizen scoffed; "Just another Getsuga? I was hoping for something more."

His eyes narrowed, however, when Isshin's Getsuga did not fire, instead wrapping around the former Squad 10 Captain's body until he was completely wreathed in its blue glow. Aizen raised Kyoka Suigetsu defensively before him.

Isshin's reiatsu surged in violent waves as Engetsu sent torrents of energy coursing through his veins like wildfire. He shut his eyes for a brief moment, and when they opened, his pupils, too, burned with the blue flame of the Getsuga.

"Final Getsuga Tensho." He intoned calmly, despite his appearance. "I can finally sense you, Aizen."

The transformation was both beautiful and terrifying as Isshin's body and soul fused with Engetsu. His hair grew longer, turning a stark white, whipping around him with the rise of his flames, each strand reflecting the moonlight with an ethereal glow. A grey, scale-like armor coated his bare torso as his Shihakuso burned away.

Aizen's surprise was palpable, but he smirked. "No wonder you were once a candidate for the Royal Guard. Your spiritual pressure feels close to that of even Yamamoto." He shrugged, then. "However…the time has passed where a mere Shinigami, no matter their strength, could hope to challenge me."

"Then stand your ground, Aizen." Isshin taunted, stepping into a combat stance. "Prove your boast." He may be a Shinigami, but in this state, he was also Getsuga Tensho itself, the heaven piercing lunar fang. If he could land the strike, he was confident it would cleave through anything.

The corner of his lip tugged in a vicious smile as he saw Aizen dig in his heels, bracing for his next move.

"Mugetsu."

A colossal wave of energy, blue as the starry night and bright as the moon, erupted from Isshin's very being. It tore across the battlefield, a line of destruction so strong that he had to angle it upwards so as not to sunder the entire planet in two.

And in the wake of that devastating power. He felt Aizen's spiritual pressure flicker.

His energy spent, Isshin collapsed. His last thoughts were not of regret, but of pride for the son who had grown stronger than he could have ever imagined. Ichigo… You'd better not waste this chance I've given you.

As the dust cleared, Aizen coughed, clutching his chest as the Hogyoku stitched his body back together for the hundredth time that day, mending the mighty gash that had almost sliced him clean in two. He grunted as he saw Isshin fall. He really needed to be more careful. This was twice now in the same day that someone he had thought far beneath him had managed to get the better of him.

He needed to invoke the Oken again. If he wasted any more time the Royal Guard may arrive en force and actually thwart his plans.

As he prepared to deal the final blow to the now unconscious Isshin, however, a garganta ripped into existence behind him. His eyebrows shot up as he recognized the reiatsu radiating from it.

"Aizen."

He craned his head slightly to look behind him, deciding it was not worth the effort to turn his body.

"Ulquiorra, you're still alive?"

"You speak as if you expected me to die."

Aizen chuckled. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't. The small force I sent into fake Karakura Town could not possibly have defeated the Gotei 13."

Ulquiorra, still in his Segunda Etapa, narrowed his eyes, calling a lance to his hands. This action intrigued Aizen enough for him to finally face the Espada fully. "You are defying me, Ulquiorra?" His voice was smooth, but it carried with it the unmistakable tint of surprise.

"You betrayed me. The Espada… Hueco Mundo… You tricked us all," Ulquiorra ground out, frowning. Why am I having trouble formulating my words? Is this… anger?

Aizen laughed. "My, oh my… And here I was thinking that you Arrancar had already reached the pinnacle of evolution."

"Why?!" Ulquiorra demanded, raising his voice. "You lied to me. You sent us all there to die as a distraction!"

"Do you not remember when I told all of my Espada not to trust me, Ulquiorra? Trust breeds reliance. It is not my fault that you were not strong enough to heed my warning," Aizen countered, before letting out an amused chuckle. "Could it be… that you thought you were special?"

Ulquiorra flinched. "Was all the trust you placed in me just a facade?"

Aizen shook his head. "Do not misunderstand further, dear Ulquiorra. This world has never been about truth or lies. You and I both know that the only things worth knowing are hard facts. I treated you with respect, and I respected your loyalty more than the other Espada - that is a fact."

"Then-" Ulqiorra began, but Aizen continued, ignoring the Arrancar; "You misguidedly interpreted that respect as having been extended to you as a being, instead of your use to me." He smirked, then. "I just never bothered to correct you."

Ulquiorra screamed into the sky as the admission awakened something deep within his chest. There was a knotted feeling of pressure… intense enough almost to be called pain.

He flared his wings, clawed feet crushing the stone beneath them as he propelled himself toward his former master. "I will not be a tool for your ambition! Lanza Del Ralempago!" His cyan eyes glowed with fury, reflecting that of the weapon.

In a flash of movement too quick to see, Aizen struck, his Kyoka Suigetsu shattering Ulquiorra's lance, and piercing the Espada's chest with surgical precision. He slashed sideways, cutting through the Arrancar's vital organs enough to negate any possibility of regeneration.

"You cannot grasp the extent of my ambition, Ulquiorra. You never could. The Espada have served their purpose."

Ulquiorra gasped, his eyes wide with shock.

As his body disintegrated and Aizen watched on with a small smile on his face, he finally understood.

It was the way Aizen always looked at them at their Espada meetings. That self-satisfied look in the Shinigami's eyes - he understood it, now. It was not the pride of a creator or the appreciation of a leader. No, Aizen had regarded them all with the smug calculation of a scientist observing an experiment going smoothly. There was no warmth there, no genuine care. They were tools, nothing more, to be used and discarded when no longer useful.

However, as Ulquiorra's form faded into dust, he felt a deep sense of pride that his final act of defiance was an act completely of his own choosing, not ordered by Aizen or anyone else.

With Mito

The Gedo Mazo landed with a thud at the edge of Hashirama's forest, kneeling down and gently lowering its hands to the ground. Madara stumbled off, but Mito did not move.

Looking out in the direction of the ruined Shinobi Alliance, she reached out with her senses, feeling how her world had changed. The once vibrant energies of the Elemental Nations now felt muted by a veil of death. Despite Madara's soul dragons, many civilians' souls could not be recovered.

Now, more than ever before, Mito felt alone. Hashirama's dream of a unified world had been hers, too. His death and the shattering of their shared vision left a void that no words or thoughts could fill. As she looked back upon the horizon, where the sun once rose with promises of new beginnings, she saw only a fragile curtain of dead trees - a final, mocking reminder of Hashirama's failure, where Aizen was about to take yet another life.

And then her gaze fell upon Madara. The enigma; the betrayer; the man she once tolerated only because of Hashirama. Aizen's might loomed over them all - a dark cloud threatening to engulf the Elemental Nations in eternal night. Madara was the final hope. She needed to put aside their past.

She nursed her belly as the realization of what she must do gnawed at her soul. There was one more thing she could offer this world, as tribute to Hashirama's legacy, and to give Madara a fighting chance to avenge them all.

And so, from the depths of her despair, Mito made her choice. What was her life - even the life of her unborn child - against the survival of the Elemental Nations? She had to believe that Madara, with the power of the Ten Tails, could turn the tide against Aizen. It was a gamble, but she was out of options.

As Madara returned her gaze, there was a silent exchange of understanding; of respect for the paths they walked.

"Madara," Mito began, her voice steady despite the turmoil within; "The Nine-Tails…You will use it only as a shield of hope for our world. Promise me that."

Madara nodded. "Mito Uzumaki. Your courage as a kunoichi will not be forgotten. Hashirama was truly lucky to have had you at his side."

He wasted no more words as he commanded the Gedo Mazo to initiate the transfer. As the power of the Nine Tails began to flow into the statue, its demonic form began to shift, nature chakra rising exponentially.

Mito's vision blurred, the edges of her consciousness fraying as the Nine-Tails' chakra left her. She saw Madara walking towards her, catching her gently as she collapsed. Before her eyes lost their light, she saw his pupils morph as he placed a warm palm atop her forehead. In those final moments, Madara granted her a parting gift.

"Tsukuyomi."

A world of dreams unfolded before her, a reality untouched by war or pain. The sun soared high over Konohagakure, bathing the village in its warm, golden light. Children's laughter echoed throughout the streets, intertwining with the sounds of nature into a glorious, yet tranquil symphony. Before her, she saw Hashirama, his smile every bit as warm as the sun as he tended to a garden bed.

She ran to join him, sighing in contentment as the scent of the flowers washed away her memories of the battlefield.

"Mama! Papa!" A young boy's voice rang out. He was running out toward them, carefully nursing a ladybug that had landed on his finger. "It's beautiful!"

Hashirama kneeled before the boy and tousled his hair. "Just like this village, and just like your mother."

Mito smiled, kneeling down too and wrapping her arms around her son. "And just like you," she added, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

In this world, there was no need for titles of Shinobi or Kage. They were simply a family, living a life of peace. There were no struggles of leadership, no burden of the tailed beasts or of being Jinchuuriki. All the woes she ever had were swiftly forgotten in the simplicity of it all.

It was the life that could have been - the life that should have been.

Outside the illusion, Mito's breathing stilled. But within the Tsukuyomi, she lived on, her dream unaffected by the cruelty of reality.

The Gedo Mazo roared, flesh and blood wrought from nine tailed beasts' chakra filling its husk. As Madara reached out his hands and invoked the ancient ritual, the Juubi surged toward him in a raging torrent of primal energy. The tailed beast threatened to overwhelm him, but he steeled his will, activating his rinnegan to keep its chakra in check.

The transformation was slow. It was heralded by the crackling of raw, untamed energy in the air before a pillar of light erupted, piercing the dawn sky. The earth of the Elemental Nations trembled, anticipating the monumental shift in power that was about to take place as it heaved and belched plumes of chakra-infused steam. As the light faded, the skies began to darken, clouds circling overhead in a vortex formation as if mirroring the storm of chakra gathering around the Juubi Jinchuriki.

Madara's appearance began to change; his skin turned ghostly pale, a stark canvas for the swirling pattern of black tomoe that adorned his new robes. His Rinnegan eyes, already a formidable sight, now glowed with even deeper intensity, the concentric circles within them spinning with the wisdom of ages. A third, vertical slit opened on his forehead, and in his hands appeared a long, black crescent staff. Ten similarly black orbs floated behind him, ready to unleash destruction at his mere thought.

The chakra rods embedded in his back clattered to the ground as his body expelled them, no longer needed them as conduits for the Juubi's chakra.

"I… am restored," Madara muttered, looking down at his pale hands. He had sought peace through power, and now that power coursed through his veins like a river of infinite energy. Yet, he had never felt more hollow than he did now.

As the power of the Ten Tails settled within him, he looked down at Mito's and Hashirama's lifeless bodies next to each other. He reached out his senses, realizing for the first time since his arrival from fake Karakura Town that he couldn't detect Harribel's or Nel's spiritual pressures.

His path to this moment had been one paved by loss and sacrifice, each cobblestone laid by the ghosts of those he cherished. So many had walked beside him but were no longer here to see the journey's end.

He balled his fists. He would make it up to them by sending Aizen into the afterlife as payment.

A glint of metal drew his attention, as he deliberately stepped toward the body of Hashirama Senju. Kneeling beside his old friend, he carefully untied the familiar forehead protector of Konohagakure. Its fabric was crusted with the dried blood of its owner, and the metal was scratched and dented, but to Madara, it was as precious as any treasure.

His hands trembled slightly as he tied the headband around his own head, a symbol of a friendship that even death could not sever. The trinket's physical weight was negligible, but it also carried a weight of history and responsibility that grounded Madara's emotions and doubts.

With steely resolve, he channeled his chakra, soaring into the skies as his cloak billowed around him. Despite the rising sun, darkness once more blanketed the Elemental Nations as Madara fixed his eyes upon the moon. With a flare of his will, he pushed Hashirama's headband up, revealing his third eye that had remained closed until now - the Rinne Sharingan. As it opened, the tomoe within it spun wildly, pulsing in sync with tomoe patterns around his cloak.

The moon itself seemed to draw closer, gradually turning an angry red as Madara rose in the sky. Its surface began to warp, reflecting the pattern of his new Rinne Sharingan, and the searing light of his Infinite Tsukuyomi enveloped the world.

He would wake them up after Aizen was dealt with and give them the option to remain in the dream or to leave. Right now, though, he wanted the people of his land to rest.

"Yes… Madara," Zetsu drawled gleefully inside his mind. "You've finally done it."

Shinobi Alliance

Elsewhere, Ichigo had just arrived at the crater Nel created when she released Gamuza. People were hurriedly darting about, tending to the injured and deceased. He located Harribel and Nel quickly enough by their vibrant hair, and nimbly bounded toward the downed Arrancar. Their spiritual pressures were undetectable, but they were both still faintly breathing.

Someone has applied medical gauze and bandages around their wounds, Ichigo noted as he hoisted them up, one over each shoulder. "Let's get you guys out of this place and treated…" He murmured, a pang in his heart as his first thought went to Orihime.

Before he could move any further, however, a flash of light enveloped the world, and his consciousness began to waver.

I… can't move, Ichigo thought. Zangetsu?!

He received no response. He noticed that other people around him were in the same predicament as he, and the last thing he saw before his consciousness faded into fantasy were dark, wooden cocoons trapping everyone around him.

With Aizen

Behind the veil of the midnight sky, above the languishing forest of dead trees, a glimmer of light caught Aizen's attention, his eyes reflexively tracking the glare to its source. A blood moon pulsed ominously.

"Isshin and Ulquiorra have distracted me from a most intriguing development, it seems…" He muttered to himself.

It was as if the moon had grown eyes - nine tomoe fanned out from its rings that reminded him of Madara's original hollow mask. It was shining inordinately bright as it radiated Madara's reiatsu signature.

With a frown of annoyance, Aizen waved Kyoka Suigetsu before him, unleashing a gust of pressure strong enough to blast away the final remnant's of Hashirama's forest. The light from the moon flickered; a shadow shot past it, and he squinted at the stir of motion.

He smirked.

Red as a sanguine pool of hate, red as garnet caked in blood; red as the blazing aspect of Tsukuyomi herself, twin comets descended from the heavens.

Aizen lazily teleported a few hundred feet backwards as they crashed into where he was standing a moment ago. Without missing a beat, Madara dashed out of the dust cloud, already in resurreccion with his staff at the ready.

Aizen scoffed, lifting his blade haughtily to check the blow. The transcendent Shinigami did not budge, even as the earth behind him shattered in an oblong crater from the force of the strike.

"You look different, Madara. Your reiatsu feels… impressively strong. But it is too late. The wheel of fate is in full motion; I am transcended."

"You are a coward. Look at what you have become," Madara spat, wrestling his staff against the winged creature before him. All the damage Hashirama had done to Aizen had been erased by this latest transformation.

He did not know how powerful the new form was, but the sheer weight of the spiritual pressure flowing out of Aizen sent shivers down Madara's spine.

It added to Madara's apprehension that he did not know if Aizen had a limit to these constant evolutions. It was as if each time he was defeated, or pushed to the brink, he could ascend to a new level of power.

"A coward?" Aizen cocked his head. "Ah… Because I did not fight alongside you, and chose to sacrifice the Elemental Nations instead?" He laughed softly. "Dear Madara… To be honest, I'm impressed you made it out. I suppose I must have been right in that the Royal Guard really did not attend the battle."

Madara gripped his weapons tighter, until he felt the fabric of his gloves pinching at his skin. "You were trying to avoid them… You didn't have any confidence at all that they would actually be absent…" He whispered to himself, a renewed wave of guilt and shame washing over him as he realized the extent to which they had all been played.

Aizen shrugged. "Frame it how you will. I fully intended to confront the Gotei 13, but the possibility of the Royal Guard's intervention was something I could not afford to risk before I ascended beyond mere Shinigami. You must understand, do you not? Why take the unfavorable odds, when there are souls free for the taking here? Hashirama had even so kindly invited me in with open arms."

"You… you're a monster," Madara finally settled on saying. He'd committed his share of morally questionable acts in the past, but his actions had always been guided by a sense of pride. Pride of his own strength; pride that allowed him to be honorable in a world of backstabbers and tricksters. "The power we have been blessed with… should be used to protect those weaker than us, not exploit them."

Aizen scoffed, tracking Madara's gaze as it landed on his wings. "Look at yourself, Madara. Your skin is mottled. You have three eyes. You, too, have evolved. Are you, then, by your own definition, also a monster?

Madara gripped his staff tighter. "It was necessary."

"Just like it is necessary for you to continue absorbing the life-force of your own citizens to fuel your current form?" Aizen taunted. "We are one and the same, although your current state of evolution is still below mine."

Madara frowned. Absorb my own citizens? "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy with me, Madara. We are but two meager, solitary men," Aizen continued; "We have nothing in our lives but our respective missions. We should be allies, Madara. Truly. We who have no family, nor friends, nor memories of any previous life… tragically toiling in this deceiver's world." He gestured into the distance with one of his wings. "Have I not just removed your final obstacle in Hashirama?"

Madara's lips curled up in disgust.

"Let me speak plainly, now, Madara." Aizen changed the topic. "Despite our ulterior motives, we have both helped each other in the past. You fascinate me, Madara. Your ability to grow and evolve is second only to my own. For that, I will offer a bargain for your life." He held up his index finger. "Leave me one hundred thousand souls. That is my price - it always has been so. You knew this. Do with the remainder what you will. I will not interfere with the Elemental Nations any longer."

"Stop talking in riddles. What do you mean to leave you a hundred thousand souls?" As he spoke, Madara reached out with his six-path senses, and suddenly, his breath hitched.

Aizen was right. The souls of everyone in the Elemental Nations were being drained.

"Ignore him, Madara." It was Zetsu. "He's just trying to distract you while he siphons more souls away. Kill him, quickly, before he grows more powerful."

"Well, Madara?" Aizen pressed. "Release your technique, give me my souls, and I'll let you live your life as ruler of this desolate place."

Madara shook his head. "You're not talking your way out of this one, Aizen." His voice grew in intensity, along with the glow of his Rinne-Sharingan. "I see everything now, Aizen. You can't manipulate me any more."

Aizen sighed. "Then let's get this over with."

AN - 2 MORE CHAPTERS TO GO. Sorry once again for taking so long. Getting very busy this year with Uni and as a result not having had the motivation or time to write. Let me know in the reviews if you feel anything is too rushed and I'll probably come back to flesh it out more. I'm trying to tie together all the plot threads and finding it harder and harder to give characters justice in their endings.

Thanks to everybody who's still sticking around! Until next time.