[Chains of the Forgotten]
[Nighty Solar Cycles Later…]
The First was different from the frozen despair of Judecca. Here, the landscape glistened with a dark beauty, a place where twilight and shadow coexisted, painting the skies with hues of crimson and black. The air hummed with a low, droning sound that seemed to emanate from the ground itself, a reminder that this realm, like the others, was a living entity with secrets woven into its fabric.
Aarowan's voice cut through the heavy air, clear and sharp. "Ban… kai Han'ei no Jigoku," he uttered, each syllable reverberating as if the First Circle held its breath. The shadows deepened around them, coiling like serpents. Kokutō felt the familiar pull of dread sink into his bones, the whisper of chains ever-present.
Aarowan moved with practiced ease, eyes flickering with a kind of detached interest as he spoke. "Now, my discipulus, the best way to teach is through demonstration. You have strength, yes, but will your mind rise to the occasion?" His smirk was cold, a mirror to the twisted nature of their surroundings.
Kokutō's dark eyes narrowed, defiance sparking behind them. The clink of unseen chains echoed in the distance, a subtle reminder of where they stood. "I've had enough of your so-called lessons. Can't you just leave me in peace?"
Aarowan's laughter was low, resonant, as if the First itself chuckled along with him. "Pax? Ah, but pax is a lie in this realm, Kokutō. You should know that by now." He took a step closer, the ground seeming to shift under his feet. "And remember this: I will never have enough of testing you."
A sudden vibration rippled through the ground, a surge of energy that made Kokutō's rattle and shiver. From somewhere deep within the shadows, a familiar, fierce voice rang out:
"Getsuga Tenshō!"
Aarowan's gaze turned sharp, his smirk replaced by a gleam of recognition. "Ah, the old songs of defiance. Even here, their echoes find us."
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[At Karakura Town – Kurosaki Residence]
The morning sun spilled over Karakura Town, casting long rays across rooftops and filtering through the curtains of the Kurosaki residence. Inside, the house buzzed with an electric tension, the quiet hum of conversation drowned out by an unspoken anxiety. Ichigo paced near the window, glancing at the street where neighbors went about their day, blissfully unaware of the spiritual storm brewing.
"Let's follow the spiritual pressure. Orihime, hold down the fort," Ichigo said, the urgency in his voice barely masked. He met Orihime's eyes, a silent exchange passing between them that spoke of trust and determination. She nodded, stepping back to watch him, concern etched across her face.
Uryū's broke the silence, his presence a sharp reminder of their shared purpose. "Let's go. We don't have time." The sunlight glinted off his glasses as he turned to follow Ichigo outside, the weight of their mission heavy between them.
[At Karakura Town Central Plaza]
The plaza, usually filled with the noise of morning vendors and bustling pedestrians, was now eerily silent. The air crackled with energy, an oppressive aura that pressed down on everyone present. Renji stood at the center, breath visible in the chill, eyes locked on the figure before him.
"Roar, Zabimaru!" The shout echoed, a battle cry that sliced through the heavy air. Renji's blade lashed out, a segmented serpent of steel that sought its target with deadly precision.
His opponent was clad in the Armor of Hell, chains rattling with each movement as if they had a mind of their own. The sinner wielded a claymore, its blade archaic and marred with scorch marks. He swung it with unnatural strength, deflecting Renji's attacks while the chains shifted around him, a grotesque dance of defense and compulsion.
"Stop attacking me!" The sinner's voice cracked, pain and desperation evident as his body continued to move without his consent. His eyes darted between the attackers, pleading. "He's controlling me! I can't stop!"
Ichigo skidded to a halt, his heart racing. The memory of Kokutō and the horrors they had faced in Hell surfaced like a shadow over his thoughts. "This isn't just another sinner," he muttered.
"It's Hell's influence," Uryū said, his tone grim. He strung his bow, eyes tracking the chains as they snaked through the air, intercepting any strike that posed a genuine threat.
Urahara stepped forward, his voice calm yet charged with anticipation. "Cry, Benihime!" The crimson energy shot out like a blade, only to clash against the twisting chains, scattering sparks as metal screamed against metal. A few glancing blows slipped through, leaving thin trails of blood on the sinner's skin.
The sinner staggered, eyes wide with terror as he gasped out, "He'll come. He'll come to reclaim what's his. Free me before the chains consume me completely!" The chains tightened, leaving dark imprints on his skin that pulsed with an unnatural light. "Just kill me!" he wailed, the cry echoing with a resonance that seemed to reach beyond the plaza.
Ichigo's grip on his sword tightened, uncertainty and resolve fighting within him. "He's controlled, but he's still sentient," he said through gritted teeth.
"Then incapacitate him!" Uryū's voice cut through the chaos. "Focus on neutralizing him now; we can find out who's pulling the strings later."
The plaza exploded into motion once more, the clang of blades and the hiss of spiritual energy filling the space. The chains moved with mechanical precision, but they began to falter, gaps appearing in their relentless defense. The sinner's screams grew louder, each word a dagger of agony.
"Stop it! It hurts—it hurts!" His voice broke, eyes glazing over as he whispered, "Forgive me, teacher. Master, I swear I'll never defy you again."
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The frozen silence of Judecca was shattered by the distant echoes of battle. Aarowan stood motionless, the cold biting into his skin but ignored, his focus elsewhere. His eyes flickered with an emotion Kokutō couldn't name. The frozen expanse around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to break.
"Do you make a habit of clutching your fists for no reason?" Aarowan's voice was low, almost contemplative, a stark contrast to the harsh winds that howled around them.
Kokutō's eyes narrowed, fingers flexing as he unclenched his fists. "What does it matter to you?"
Aarowan's smirk returned, but it was devoid of mirth. "Ah, my dear discipulus, a certain anima has spoken too much. Tacita necessitas. The silence of necessity," he mused, eyes drifting to the horizon. "And now, there will be consequences. I'll be reprimanded, no doubt, but by whom…" His voice trailed off, replaced by the keening wind that carried distant, muffled cries.
The echoes of pain and battle that had rippled through Judecca faded, leaving a heavy, oppressive silence. Kokutō's eyes flickered with confusion and curiosity as he turned to Aarowan, who remained statuesque, gaze locked on the far reaches of the icy prison.
"Are you going to tell me what's happening?" Kokutō's voice was rough, the cold slicing through it like a knife.
Aarowan's smile was slow, almost indulgent. "Patience, Kokutō. The secrets of Hell are not revealed all at once. Even infernus rewards those who wait."
The wind around them roared, carrying with it the promise of battles yet to come and the heavy burden of truths not yet spoken.
[Ninety Solar Cycles Starts…]