The reaction is immediate, everyone on a hair trigger after the events of the past two weeks, or a war, in the case of the two time travellers. The blue Arrancar very nearly gets exploded by a dozen very jumpy Visored and company.
Naturally, he ignores them entirely, leaping straight forward to land lightly in front of Ichigo. He draws himself to his full height, making use of the two inches he has on Ichigo to affect a menacing loom.
Unfortunately for him, Ichigo has the advantage of years of knowing Grimmjow, and the panther hollow of this timeline knows Ichigo not at all.
Also, Grimm can't stop grinning with excitement, which takes away from the intimidation factor a little bit.
Ichigo bares his teeth right back. He knows that this Grimmjow can't beat him, not when even the other version of him eventually fell short of Ichigo's ridiculous learning curve, but he doesn't care. He wants to fight his old friend, let their blades do the talking.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kisuke give an exasperated head shake and then start clearing the training area.
As soon as it's cleared enough that there's no one in the crossfire, Ichigo brings his reiatsu slamming down on his opponent, opening his power without hesitation for the first time since he's been back. He's not bearing down, not really, but he's not really lightening it, either.
This level of power sent an unprepared Yamamoto to his knees.
Grimmjow just howls his excitement and bloodlust and flares his own reiatsu higher, shielding himself from the worst of the onslaught. He staggers, sure, but he adapts in seconds, raising his head and meeting Ichigo's eyes in direct challenge.
See, the thing is, Grimmjow has never been the strongest of Ichigo's opponents, or the smartest, or the deadliest, or the most experienced.
But out of everyone Ichigo has ever fought, he's the only one who bears adaptivity to match Ichigo's own-- the only one with a learning curve even remotely similar.
Ichigo thinks that part of that can be attributed to the sheer drive to overcome that the two of them share.
They stand for a moment, watching each other, and then, unable to stand the tension for another second, Grimmjow pounces, all that lean muscle poured into speed that leaves him a blur Yoruichi would have difficulty tracking. Ichigo spins, Shiro materializing in a hand, and blocks as Grimm brings Pantera down on what would have been the back of his head. Ichigo holds him midair for a moment, grounding the entire force of the blow, and then uses Shiro to toss the Arrancar skyward. His other hand rises, curling his fingers, and he intones,
"Kido One Hundred and Twenty: Pierce."
From the outside, it looks startlingly like a very large, very overpowered Byakurai, streaking straight through the air towards its target.
From the inside, it is also startlingly like a very large, very overpowered Byakurai, except that when contact is made, it reverberates back and forth between the caster and the target, flickering as many as a thousand times a second.
In essence, it's Byakurai turned into true lightning, and Grimmjow loses a chunk of his bicep as he fails to dodge quite fast enough. The Arrancar roars, angered rather than hurt, and uses his dodge to spring forwards instead of sideways, blurring back towards Ichigo with his body low, Pantera tucked close to his body--a thrust at high speed, nearly impossible to dodge, and devilish to block.
It's also clearly a trap, but Ichigo humors him for a moment, brings his flat palm up and places it along the flat of the blade, redirecting the momentum past himself as he twists to the side. Grimmjow strikes, in that second, flattening his free hand into a clawed spear and driving it into Ichigo's flank--or would have, if Ichigo's skin had not deflected the hardened nails, sending them scraping harmlessly across his side.
Grimmjow catches himself as the momentum carries him through, twisting midair to face Ichigo in an awed kind of growing rage.
"What the fuck is your Hierro, you bastard!"
Ichigo snickers, despite himself, a fierce joy tearing through him, echoed and amplified by his spirits.
"Well, then, cat . What are you going to do about it? Or are you going to run away with your tail between your legs?"
That does it. Grimmjow screeches, a wildcat's feral scream, and levels Pantera out to the side.
" Grind, Pantera!"
Ichigo, not to be outdone, allows Shiro to dissolve and enters what counts as his own form of Resurreccion.
" Pierce the heavens, Zangetsu!"
The chant isn't really necessary, but Ichigo and Shiro think that it's appropriate anyway. Their separate consciousnesses meld, leaving Ichigo-and-Shiro grinning at Grimmjow from behind a familiar dragonbone mask, long hair sweeping over their shoulders, swirling red-black power at their fingertips.
Grimmjow doesn't bother to stand still long enough for Ichigo-and-Shiro to hit him with the Bala on his fingertip. The panther drops to all fours and vanishes to the naked eye, blurring even in their vision as he slips into Sonido.
Unfortunately for Grimmjow, what the Arrancar has put into speed is not matched by his strength. In the space of an instant, Ichigo-and-Shiro step into Sonido themselves, catching Grimm by the throat and flattening him to the floor. The Hollow freezes, instinct warring with shock warring with rationality. Ichigo-and-Shiro roar in triumph above him, tipping their head toward the ceiling and loosing a nigh-instantaneous Cero at the ceiling, causing the entire cavern to shake.
There's a long, silent moment where nothing but the slow fall of dust and rubble can be heard, and then Grimmjow sighs gustily, dropping out of Resurrection and tipping his head back to bare his throat.
"Fine, fine, ya crazy bastard, you win. This time. I'll damn well kick your ass the next time I see you, you got me?"
They rasp out a chuckle and release him, allowing Grimmjow to haul himself to his feet, his regeneration already healing most of the damage. As far as spars went, Ichigo-and-Shiro are pleasantly surprised at the challenge Grimm could already give them. At this rate, they might actually get a decent fight in the next century. They grin at him, tipping their head sideways in a half-gesture of friendly intent, and he startles, then gives them a feral smile right back. They reaffirm his promise with one of their own, a low, gravely,
"Next time."
They escort him to the exit and he slips soundlessly into a Garganta, no doubt heading back to report his findings to the rest of the waiting Arrancar. Which of them had Aizen already recruited? Was Ulquiorra there? Starrk? Harribel? Ichigo has the sudden and pressing urge to go find them, to ensure their safety, regardless of which side of the war they'd eventually fallen on. They'd all ended up dead by the end of it, anyway, fed to Aizen's endless hunger for things to feed to his Hogyouku.
No matter. He's sure they'll all be showing up at some point soon, at least a few of them, especially after sending Grimmjow back like that.
Ichigo lets Shiro melt away, back into his subconscious, where he can feel the spirit lazily poking fun at each of the other two, too battle-sated to be truly ornery.
He's so glad Muramasa and Ossan are satisfied to simply exist in harmony with him, usually. He loves Shiro wholeheartedly, he truly does, but there's no way he'd manage with three equally battle-mad spirits in his head.
He stretches, enjoying the satisfying series of pops down his spine, and turns back towards the Visored and co, all of whom are watching him in absolute, blank shock.
Oh.
Whoops.
He probably has some explaining to do.
Shinji has had his capacity for weird stretched a lot in the past week. Like, a lot . Aizen is dead. Okay, all right, good riddance. Soul Society wants him dead? Probably not even that big of a difference than usual. He's got a Hollow inside him? Okay, that's...gonna take a little adjustment, but it's mostly just him, but kinda wilder, like he used to be, yeah? It's an Arrancar, which is apparently not a myth, and it makes him a lot stronger. He's got a bunch of new Kido under his belt. He's got that part down well enough. Fighting is fighting, no matter what level it's at, once you're past Captain-class.
Soul Society is preparing for war against them. That's not good. Shinji was around for the Quincy extermination, and some of those old fuckers had powers that could not be believed--and they're still all dead, regardless of how strong they all were. He knows Ichigo is strong, stronger than the Soutaicho even, but he's not sure that means anything when it comes to the type of warfare Soul Society tends to engage in.
And now Arrancar are dropping into the heart of Seireitei to challenge Ichigo to a friendly spar , of all things.
Yeah, Shinji is having some trouble wrapping his head around that one.
Ichigo is still talking, something about knowing most of Aizen's Arrancar--the Espada--during the last war, and that they weren't really evil so much as misguided , but Shinji has had about all he can take of that madness, and he finds his attention wandering. It stops on Urahara's face, where the man has his eyes fixed on Ichigo, tugging on that ridiculous forelock like he's trying to hide his eyes without actually covering them.
Shinji isn't really a romantic, he leaves the poetry for Rose and Love and Lisa, but he looks at Kisuke looking at Ichigo and thinks, he has the universe in his eyes, and he doesn't even know it .
Grimmjow tumbles back through the Garganta, throws his head back, and laughs . Laughs until he can't stand anymore, until he's on his knees howling his mirth at the endless night sky. Eventually he calms down and catches his breath and wipes his eyes and sets off to see Barragan. He's not even slightly surprised to see that most of the population of Las Noches is there, waiting more out less anxiously to hear the news. Grimmjow isn't one to disappoint, of course. He turns, facing the audience at large, and announces grandly,
"Aizen is dead!"
A ripple of shock blasts through the crowd, and shrieks arise from several of the more dramatic Hollows. Questions fly immediately, utter chaos ensuing rapidly, at least until Barragan straightens in his throne and roars for silence.
Grimmjow, indulging in the theatrics of the moment, thanks him with a regal nod and turns back towards the gathered Hollows.
"Aizen is dead, as is Tousen. Apparently, one of the captains discovered him and killed him on the spot. Put a blade right through his brain, and strung Tousen up with his own entrails." He grins, savagely. "Guess they weren't as ready for him to be King as they thought, huh?"
Barragan shifts, leaning forward, but Grimmjow isn't anywhere near done.
"And just think. That wasn't even the most exciting thing I learned today."
The audience obligingly gives him the requisite expectant pause.
"There's a guy there, fucker with orange hair and a Hollow mask . He's got a dozen others with him, but I fought him, briefly, and let me tell you, he could pin Starrk without lifting a finger."
He could have heard a pin drop. Behind him, one of Barragan's squadron mutters, Impossible.
Grimm snickers.
"Hey, Ulquiorra, get your rat bastard arse over here!"
It says something to the gravity of the situation that Ulquiorra appears before him without a single word of protest.
"You think you can do that Thing to my eye?"
The monotone gains a hint of exasperation.
" That thing, as you call it, is an advanced remote viewing technique using the nerves of the eye to rewind and play out what it recorded, using your own memories to--"
"Yes, but can you do it or not."
Ulquiorra honest-to-god snarls , which means that Grimmjow wins this one, except then the green-eyed fucker reaches up, faster than he can react, and rips his eyeball out.
He probably should have expected that, actually.
Regardless, while he hunches over and focuses on regenerating that , Ulquiorra is turning towards the crowd, and with more of a sense of showmanship than Grimmjow would have expected from him, crushes the eye he holds and scatters it upwards, spreading the dust into a rather large viewing screen.
The lesser Hollows are clearly awed by the masses of Shinigami and his own speed and skill in tracking, but when he tracks the scent to the cave-hideout, when the group turns toward him with surprise and determination, when the leader waves them off and brings his own reiatsu slamming down--
Everyone sits up and takes notice, because Grimmjow is among their strongest, and nothing's made him stagger like that, not even Starrk. Not even Aizen, who'd had to beat him into the ground a few times in order to get him to fall in; everyone knew that.
He counters with his own reiatsu, and they're off, a sword appearing out of nowhere , and then it's strike for strike, Cero for Cero, kido and hierro and Resurreccion all flowing into a battle that lasts less than a minute. Grimmjow watches right along the rest of them, fascinated with rewatching his own memory. Even when the orange-and-hollow pinned him, he thinks he did a damn good job, holding out against that .
The vision dissipates as his past self climbs into a Garganta, and all heads swivel to pin him directly.
He chuckles.
"I told you."
Harribel, off to the side, scoffs.
"You're a madman. You walked in, saw the group that beat Aizen, and challenged their leader . You're lucky he let you go at all. Shinigami aren't like Hollows."
Grimmjow rolls his shoulders and gives her a cheerful grin.
"Helluva fight though, don't'cha think?"
Kaien is freaking the hell out. Kukaku can't quite tell why , because he can't tell her anything other than that it's Gotei 13 business, which could be anything from "Juushiro is sick again and I don't like it" to "the next war of extermination is on the horizon." Kaien tends to freak out quite a lot.
She hasn't seen him worn quite this thin since their mother died, though. It worries her, and she can't even help because she's not a Shinigami herself, and thus not privy to Seireitei secrets. She'd wanted to join for exactly that reason, be some unseated member in his squad to try to take some pressure off of his too-young shoulders, but he'd talked her out of it. She'd still been healing from the explosion back then, mentally and physically, and she'd been determined to prove that lacking an arm wouldn't take away from her potential. She doesn't have Kaien's particular brand of genius, but she's smart, and a fast learner, and she's even better at reading people and situations than he is.
And when she'd gone to him as her newly-appointed clan head and declared her intention, she'd seen him truly afraid for the first time in her life. All the color had drained out of his face, and he'd swayed on his feet. He'd begged to know her reasoning, and only relaxed finally when she'd promised to stay well away from Seireitei and its Court Guard and its politics. She'd been half sure by the end of it that Kaien was going to try to send her back out to Rukongai, running from some unseen threat.
It was the first time she'd ever considered that their government might be something less than trustworthy, but now, decades later, Kukaku iss glad she took her brother's advice and stayed the hell out. If nothing else, her friendship with the Shihouin heiress had given her a unique insight into the darker aspects of the Gotei 13. Their continuing contact, right up until the hollowfication debacle, had confirmed what she'd already known, really. Something was terribly, terribly rotten in the very heart of Soul Society.
The last thing she'd heard, C46 was unlikely to make a favorable decision and Yoruichi was preparing to desert her post in the hopes of saving the lives of her first friends and the newly born hollows, which Yoruichi was convinced that Urahara could fix, given enough time to work.
Then something had gone to hell and now no one knew anything, or couldn't admit to anything, and Yoruichi hadn't come back to the Shiba compound with her rescues, as agreed. Kaien is looking through their clan archives with an air of frazzled bewilderment, and the entirety of Seireitei resembled a kicked hornet's nest.
Kukaku hasn't been more worried--or curious-- in decades. Wherever Yoruichi was, she hoped the werecat was having fun.
Muramasa is a patient creature, by nature. Their former master had been a brash, impatient man by nature, and Muramasa had developed in counterpart to that. They had waited centuries before Ichigo had saved them, and they don't mind watching things play out from a distance. Bonding with Ichigo hasn't changed that, much. They're perfectly content to sit back and watch the Gotei 13 tear itself apart, for instance. They are also perfectly aware that Ichigo will never stand by and let such a thing happen. It's one of the things they admire most about their second owner.
It's also one of the most infuriating, because Muramasa is also a protective creature, and they would love to bundle Ichigo away and never allow anyone near him again, save his close companions.
They won't do that either, because it would make Ichigo unhappy, and that's the least acceptable outcome. So they'll just have to be strong enough to beat everyone a thousand times over, so no one can ever touch him without his consent, and no one can ever touch his loved ones.
In this, at least, they and both halves of Zangetsu are in absolute, perfect accord.
It's interesting to be back in time, though, knowing that Koga is sealed away somewhere instead of dead , but for once, Muramasa doesn't feel a pang of sorrow or longing. They've healed. They belong here, with Ichigo and Shiro and Ossan, shepherding a bunch of insanely-powerful newborn Visored and whoever else seems to be gathering to Ichigo's particular brand of gravity.
Koga can rot.
A wild shriek draws their attention away from their musings, and they turn to see Ossan holding off Shiro's wild attacks, Zanpakuto and Quincy spirit each making an admirable attempt at eviscerating the other. Shiro is grinning widely, sharp teeth on full display, and for all his stoicism, Ossan isn't really concealing his enjoyment either.
Muramasa watches for a while, content to enjoy the others' terrible attempts at sparring--did they really have no other setting than all out?-- except then Ossan heaves Shiro off the end of his blade directly into them.
This time, the screech is all theirs, as they're knocked arse over teakettle by the hollowfied sword. Shiro bounces back up, laughing, and prepares to launch himself at Ossan again, without even a glance at the generally calmer spirit he knocked over, only to be interrupted by a different sword thrust through his gut. From behind. He glances over his shoulder in shock, meeting Muramasa's narrowed eyes, and then he dissolves into mist as they cleave right through his spine. He'll be back in a moment, with Ichigo's power levels, but it's still a bit of an inconvenience for him.
Good.
If the other two want to play, Muramasa thinks viciously, they are more than willing to oblige them.
Somewhere in the midst of showing Lisa a bakudo, Ichigo sighs. He loves his spirits, gods help him, but dear lord did none of them know how to shut up .
Kurotsuchi Mayuri squints at his sensors. He's recalibrated them half a dozen times already today, but he still doesn't like what they're telling him. By which he means that what they're telling him is flatly impossible, and if he tries to go to Yamamoto with this he'll be back in the Maggot's Nest before he can blink .
There are, in fact, not a dozen Arrancar lounging around on top of Soukyoku Hill. For one, there isn't nearly enough screaming. Second, because he's a good scientist dammit , there are not a dozen Arrancar on Soukyoku Hill because he went and looked, and thus independently verified that these sensors are full of bullshit and not science. There wasn't a trace of Hollow reiatsu in the area, and Mayuri trusts his instruments, but he trusts his own senses more. He's--more or less captain-class, by now, especially since he's got Bankai. While it's plausible that there are a handful of Hollows out there that are far stronger than he is, it's definitively improbable that all of them decided to get together, come to Soul Society, and sit around on the execution hill doing nothing.
A little light on the sensor blips, indicating that one of the signatures just appeared at the same moment another disappeared.
It's been doing that for hours, too. He wants it to stop, but the only way he can do that is to calibrate it to ignore all hollow reiatsu over a certain level--which is stupid. What if actual Arrancar showed up? Or the hollowfied former captains? Mayuri has so many questions. Literally all the questions.
Curse Aizen for being a secretive bastard and hiding his notes, and also curse him for dying without ever letting on what he'd been doing. Mayuri helped in the research division for a reason, dammit, surely they could have collaborated?
He wants Urahara. At least he knows that his taicho is still alive--he won't believe that slippery ninja bastard is dead until he sees the body himself. And run half a dozen tests. And even then he won't be totally sure, because Urahara is a slippery ninja bastard . At least Mayuri isn't doing whatever Soi Fon is doing; that level of moping is terribly unattractive and utterly useless.
Mayuri will make it so that Urahara will be damn proud to come back and acknowledge him.
The Central 46 have come to a decision.
Unanimously, they have voted for extermination.
Shunsui breathes deeply and tries to quell the fear in his gut. He's never been a fan of war--of battle and combat and the knowledge that if you don't kill you will be killed. For all that he's good at it, he doesn't like it, and he knows Juushiro is the same way.
Against this particular set of opponents, however, he doesn't even know if they have a chance. For one, they're comprised mostly of comrades , and for two, they've got the entire Assassin Corps (no matter that it's Division Two, their loyalty is to their mistress, and always has been), most of the Kido Corps, and the unknown variable that is the orange-haired Shiba. That's one hell of a lineup, and unlike the Quincies of old, they have intimate knowledge of the structure and capabilities of the Gotei 13.
It's a terrifying picture, frankly. A single Captain-class opponent can neutralize every Shinigami under third seat in the entire Gotei, singlehandedly. It takes a Captain to fight a Captain, but even then, not all Captains are equal. Unohana and Yamamoto-sensei are monsters , but from what he's seen, not even they have anything on the newcomer. Not to mention that the assassins are trained to fight in such a way that strength doesn't matter .
And that's not counting his former comrades. Shinji alone is a terrifying prospect, because he's one of the few Shinigami older than the Academy, and every single one of them had the tendency to hide their true strength as a matter of survival, and it's impossible to guess what tricks they might have up their sleeves. Without the standardized education, there's simply no way to gauge what they could know.
Assuming his old friend isn't a mindless, ravening beast by now, anyway.
If he is, why the hell have they seen neither hide nor hair of him? That speaks to someone who could control a captain-class hollow--eight captain-class hollows, if Ichimaru's testimony was to be believed--and that's even less reassuring.
Every instinct in him screams to take Juushiro and run. They didn't survive the Rukongai as long as they had by being stupid, that's for certain.
But still, this is the organization their sensei poured his life into. They can't just abandon that for the sake of the enemy, even if that enemy wears the face of a friend. They certainly can't abandon that just because of fear, not after they've seen how much it's helped.
Now if only they could convince Yama-jii to take himself back out from under the stupid, spoiled nobles, now that would be something.
Retsu is torn. On one hand, she's quite invested in the survival of the group of outcasts. It would be a shame for them to fall now, at such a critical moment. For them to do so for lack of crucial information would be a travesty.
On the other hand, however, is the sheer power of the Shiba interloper, and the nearly irresistible instinct that demands she test herself against it.
Luckily, this is not a decision that she's being forced to make, not yet. The others may not notice, not Genryuusai in his arrogance nor the others in their inexperience, but Retsu knows that the Shihouin head is there at the "sentencing." This neatly sidesteps the question of whether or not she should send a message to the Shiba. It's only the delay of an inevitable decision-- she will have to choose, ultimately, where her loyalties lie-- but for now, it is enough.
Gods, but she wants to fight. Not that glorified sparring the baby Arrancar are doing (she hasn't missed that, either; there is no better sensor in the Gotei than she, regardless of what science the Twelfth might want to tout), but a real fight, one where her life is in real danger and she is forced to pull every trick she knows, one where even that might not be enough.
She wants to cast the dice and see if she still has what it takes to survive.
Yoruichi doesn't even bother to be surprised. The others held hope of peaceful revolution, but Yoruichi is a Shihouin, and her Onmitsukido has worked with the Gotei for centuries, now, to the point of being nearly synonymous with Division Two.
She knows better than any of the others, how little Seireitei tolerated outside of their grasping claws. Even her Kisuke-- not hers anymore, not really, but always in her mind hers to protect, her little brother in all but blood-- was more hopeful than she.
She likes what changes Ichigo has wrought in him. She likes that he's safe enough to be softer, for all his new jagged edges. She likes that he has hope at all. She loves the way his eyes crinkle just slightly at the edges when he's watching Ichigo, the way his shoulders relax with Ichigo at his back. The way he steps forward to face the unknown with confidence that he'll be caught if he falls. The way he trusts. He doesn't second guess himself or his morals, either, just believes that Ichigo will stop him if he goes too far.
For an assassin, an anchor that steady is hard to find.
If only she didn't have to bring another war to lay at their feet.
She takes two deep breaths and drops her emotions from her mind, sliding sideways into the cold, calculated rationality of the assassin at her truest core.
She contemplates, for a moment, a preemptive strike. If she chose the right moment, picked them off as they exited the building, she could destroy half the captains here. All the new ones, definitely. 8 and 13 would prove a problem, as would 1 and 4, but should she strike swift and careful, she might be able to get all the rest. Alternatively, she could bypass them entirely, get to the inner chambers and cut the head from the snake.
Were she operating solo, or even with only Tessai and Kisuke at stake, she might even have done it. But Yoruichi is an assassin, not a general. She can eliminate threats and remove opponents before they ever face her, but she is not given to the sort of long-term planning that could win a war.
Kisuke is. Ichigo is. Yoruichi will put her faith in them, and trust that they will guide her hand accordingly.
She leaves without hesitation. They will need this information to plan what is to come.
It has been a week since the extermination order was passed down. A week since Yoruichi appeared before them, face hard and blank.
A week during which they've fallen into their old mindsets, two war generals trying to minimize casualties and ensure their people's survival.
The first few moves were easy. Messages went out, with the discretion only ninja were capable of.
The Shihouin Head called. The Onmitsukido answered.
Considering they'd been part of Division Two for centuries, it should not have been as easy as it was to mobilize a small army of assassins, and take out every supply and information line on their way out. Sealed "missions" were all that was needed; no one would question an operative on assignment, and no one would think anything of the mobilization of most of Division 2, in light of the recent order.
That was precisely what was going on, after all. It was a shame that Yamamoto had never considered that anyone in the Gotei or adjacent branches could have loyalties that differed from his own.
Somewhere in the heart of the Division Two stronghold, Soi Fon stares at a simple black envelope with a dark, velvety purple butterfly stamped on it. She has a choice to make, and until the end of the week to do so.
She already knows where her ultimate loyalties lie.
She breaks the seal without hesitation.
With the Onmitsukido handled and the Second Division defanged, they turn to the Kido Corps. Tessai and Hacchi escort themselves to the headquarters they ran only last month, on the evening of the second day, only to find their subordinates waiting for them with anticipation.
The Kido Corps stands in readiness. They were not pleased with Central's treatment of their leaders, and as an independent, mostly research-based organization, they were free to follow whomever they pleased without being accused of treason. They had merely been waiting for the word to be given.
With the assassins and the spellcasters more or less exclusively on their side, Ichigo and Kisuke turn to the next order of business--getting their noncombatants out . Some of the Corps goes, as does a protesting Gin, and anyone who isn't overly interested in risking their lives against the best Seireitei has to offer. Families and children, as well, with Hacchi, Mashiro, and a very grumpy Hiyori reluctantly accompanying them to ensure their safety.
Ichigo sincerely hopes that no one manages to track them down. He doesn't think Hiyori will leave much of whoever dares get in her way.
He almost pities the poor Arrancar who are going to be handling that group. Maybe Grimmjow will be up to letting the Visored get some aggression out?
Actually, that was a terrible idea. They'd destroy Las Noches between the two of them.
He sends a hasty note to Starrk and tries to pretend he's not afraid of coming back to find smouldering ruins.
Meeting their enemies face-to-face on a battlefield is a dumb tactic, more suited to medieval armies than to a small horde of individuals with the strength of an army to each of them. Ichigo doesn't particularly care for the concept, but if he doesn't do that , he's basically just going to end up storming Seireitei, like he did for Rukia, a century in the future. He could also have the assassins just go murder everyone who could stand against him, but that sort of victory leaves a bad taste in his mouth for all that he wouldn't have hesitated to use it against Aizen.
They have a chance for victory in mostly nonlethal combat. He'd be a fool not to take it.
It's gonna suck, though. Yamamoto alone is a gigantic pain in his ass, and one he's going to have to handle personally.
Shinji has volunteered, in a fit of absolute suicidality, to waylay Unohana. Ichigo salutes his bravery and tells him that he'll remember him fondly in the days to come, laughing as he ducks away from the swat Shinji aims at his head.
The other two major threats are Shunsui and Juushiro, but they fight as a single unit with devastating effectiveness, and they don't play fair by any stretch of the imagination.
Kisuke steps up, with a lazy little smirk, and declares that he'll take care of them. Chaos immediately ensues; none of them save Ichigo know his true capabilities, and it's a bit concerning for the Visored to see the youngest captain going up against two of the eldest.
Ichigo just laughs and tells him to have fun.
None of the rest of the captains or lieutenants with the Gotei should prove too much of a threat, not to the much stronger hollowfied Shinigami, and Ichigo allows the Visored to mix and match themselves as they will.
He's a little amused to note that Shiba Kaien and Shiba Isshin will both be on the battlefield, though.
The Onmitsukido will be handling things with the Division 2 assassins, and ensuring that no one tries anything like a prison break while the vast majority of the Gotei is occupied. Similarly, the remaining Kido Corps will be securing Seireitei and sealing off attempts at breaking through to Hueco Mundo.
Yoruichi herself will be playing a key role-- while the two factions clash, she'll be visiting the Central 46 in an attempt to convince them to revoke the extermination order, and if possible to hammer out a ceasefire in preparation for a true peace treaty.
They're not particularly hopeful that she'll succeed, but maybe after the initial battles, C46 will see that it's pointless to try to exterminate them with force. And also that they're not mindless monsters, or a major threat to their lives.
…. Yeah, Ichigo doesn't believe it either, but he has to try.
The mood in Seireitei the night before they officially mobilize is solemn. Everyone is well aware that they're going to be hunting their own comrades, some of whom could even be considered family. The only exceptions seem to be Mayuri, whose last-minute calculations will be crucial to actually tracking their targets, and Kiganjo, who appears to be having a wild party with the rest of the Eleventh, all of them drunk on anticipation and battle lust.
Shunsui and Juushiro sit next to each other in silent contemplation, sharing a single cup of sake between themselves-- their own unspoken pledge to each other to come back alive.
They hate extermination orders. Even if it's not likely to kill them, there's something about hunting down survivors, those noncombatants trying to flee, just to keep living, not oppose the Gotei, that leaves a bad taste in their mouths.
Juushiro is still a bleeding heart, even after all these years, and Shunsui isn't that much better, for all that he still remembers how to shut down his emotions.
Times like these, he can't help but hate those spoiled nobles who think they're entitled to anything , even the lives of others. And maybe he hates Yama-jii for it, a little, for listening to them, when he knows how it was . They'd made it better, they had, given everyone a little hope and stability and protection, but it doesn't feel like it, not now-- they feel like bullies .
Shunsui hopes the orange Shiba had the sense and power to get all the rest of them out. He doesn't care where they go, just that they're somewhere beyond the long arm of the Gotei. Because if their hunt succeeds, if they find their former comrades…
He is still loyal to his sensei's ideal. As little as he likes it, he will follow his orders.
They will be his enemies, and they will die.
The next morning, before the grey light of pre-dawn has quite given way to the rising sun, Ichigo's group mobilizes. Even considering their not-inconsiderable numbers, they make it out of the heart of Seireitei without tripping any alarms. Of course, having the assassins on their side makes things a little easier. The reports won't reach the actual First division until the Second deems it.
They've chosen a wide, flat expanse of land between Seireitei and the first district; it's spread out enough that they'll be able to cut loose a little without running into each other, but flat enough and close enough that they'll be able to come to the aid of anyone who needs it.
Shiro thrums in his chest, and Ichigo can feel Ossan and Muramasa responding to the eager spirit's mood, as well. For all that they don't care to fight friends, they also just really like to fight , and they're all riding the high of anticipation.
It's enough to bring a grin to his face.
They have maybe an hour before Seireitei finishes mobilizing, and the general rumble of the preparing combatants rolls through the ground like an oncoming army in its own right. They aren't a ton of fighters. They don't have the thousands that the Gotei can call to arms.
They don't need them.
Ichigo still isn't the best sensor, but even he feels it when Yamamoto bestirs himself to battle. It's like a mountain preparing to erupt, slow and deliberate and all-consuming. All across the battlefield, he can see the others turning toward the gates. Soi Fon, behind him, coordinating the messengers, gives him a wide-eyed look that tells him her instincts are screaming for her to run. They're long past that point, of course, but it's still intimidating as hell--for those of them that aren't Ichigo and Kisuke, anyway.
Just as the pressure becomes nearly unbearable, Ichigo shakes off the boundaries he's placed in his own mind, his reiatsu rising like the ocean itself to meet the incoming onslaught. Across the field, his allies gasp and shake themselves free of the two opposing forces, able to breathe again under the friendlier wash of Ichigo's reiatsu.
Ichigo gauges his own reserves, prods experimentally at Yamamoto's with Ossan's reishi sense, and decides that actual power levels here aren't going to be a problem. Ryuukin Jakka is a tricky sword, though, and its wielder has two millennia of experience under his belt; Ichigo's scant decades aren't going to compare, even spent in combat with a deity with overwhelming power--enough that his and Yamamoto's combined would be scarcely a drop in the bucket against Aizen's former might.
But Ichigo is adaptable , and his learning curve is still off the charts. When power wouldn't do the job, cunning and precision could balance the scales.
Ichigo isn't about to think that Yamamoto doesn't have similar things up his sleeves. What was that saying about old age and treachery…?
No matter. Ichigo can't afford to lose, so he won't. In this, he has no doubt that his drive to win, to survive and protect, will exceed Yamamoto's own to conquer and destroy.
He pulls and twists and Shiro and Ossan materialize in his hands, white and black and perfectly matched. They thrum in time with his heartbeat, eager to meet the challenger in combat. Across the span of the field, figures begin materializing, dropping out of shunpo to stand across the line of battle. It's obvious from the surprise on their faces that they weren't expecting the resistance they're getting.
Shiro laughs at them, in his head, and as if that's the signal, the building tension snaps .
Around him, the combatants surge to meet each other, the crest of a wave breaking on a thrust of rock.
The battle is joined.
Yamamoto, of course, does not take the field immediately. Instead he watches, and waits, and allows his reiatsu to surge more-or-less freely across the plain. Ichigo matches it, holding back the worst of its effects on his side, and indulges Shiro by engaging in a staring contest with Yamamoto's eyebrows while trying to simultaneously monitor the way the scattered matches are going.
Kisuke and Juushiro-Shusui haven't even started fighting yet--he doesn't think either side has even drawn a blade. They're still talking, low and earnest on Shunsui's side and infuriatingly, divertingly lighthearted on Kisuke's. Ichigo knows he's planning on surprising them, the absolute troll, but he also really sort of hopes they push him enough to send him to Bankai. Benihime is a rare beauty of a sword, "not nice" or otherwise, and it's always a treat to see her in proper action. Kisuke's a damn singularity with her, and even Aizen didn't usually care to stick around once she was called. Still, even if Bankai does happen, it'll probably be a while. What else did he expect, sending the wordy pair up against a Kisuke who felt playful?
Shinji, to the surprise of roughly three quarters of the battlefield, does not get flattened in the first thirty seconds of combat with Unohana. Of course, she's old guard, and they tend to favor slow escalation as a means of gauging their opponent, but so is he, and they're actually matching each other blow for blow quite well. Ichigo knows full well that she's capable of a level 90 kido with nothing less than a gesture, or at least her future self was, but he also has a better gauge on Shinji's new abilities than anyone else, possibly including Shinji, and he thinks the former captain will be just fine. Even if he doesn't win, he should be able to stalemate her, and that should keep her entertained enough that she doesn't go looking for more combat.
The three Shibas on the field--Kaien and his wife, Miyako, and Isshin--have formed a whirling trio of death to tear their way through their enemies, and it's honestly kind of terrifying. Luckily, Tessai and Lisa are there, backing each other up with surprisingly fluid teamwork, alternating ranged and close strikes to keep the three busy with their own barriers instead of going to take out anyone else.
Rose and Love have teamed up, which is somewhat less surprising, and they're having fun letting loose against the current Kenpachi, Kiganjo or something. That's also an area of the field that has become rapidly evacuated, much to Ichigo's amusement. Kiganjo doesn't really have anything on Zaraki, not in strength, speed, bloodlust, or honor, but he's still holding his own relatively decently for now, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else.
Closer to Ichigo and the heart of the battlefield, Kensei and Kuchiki Ginrei are facing off. This is the one that he's most concerned about--Kensei is definitely captain-class, and a Visored to boot, but Ginrei is one of the oldest surviving captains, older than anyone except Yamamoto himself, maybe, and that's not something to dismiss on any Shinigami. He doesn't think Kensei will fall to Ginrei, but he might be pushed far enough to take out a mask or a bankai first out of all the combatants.
Well, that's what he's here for.
Unohana smiles at Shinji, and knows it's a little less serene and a little more feral. She's left her hair unbraided today, as long as it ever was, a challenge screamed to the heavens. Today, perhaps, she can be a bit more Kenpachi and a bit less Retsu. She doesn't know why Shinji of all people has chosen to face her, but she's curious. She's never fought the other elder captain, never even sparred with him. She knows his capabilities, roughly, or she knew what they were . He had tricks up his sleeve even then, no doubt--older captains and Rukongai survivors always did--but the Shinji she's facing now bears only a superficial resemblance to the Shinji she would have spoken with a month ago. His reiatsu is completely different, deeper and wilder and denser in a way she finds hard to describe. He doesn't look like the monster C46 would have them destroy, certainly, but she can feel traces of it in his reiatsu. Not uncontrolled, no, but there nonetheless, ruthless and boiling and just as eager for this fight as she is.
She salutes him, an ancient warrior's gesture, and is surprised and pleased when he returns it without hesitation. Retsu readies her blade in front of her, shows him her teeth, and waits.
He does not disappoint. An instant later, she's whipping her blade up to block a series of lightning-fast thrusts. Almost conversationally, he says,
"I hear ya could be called the founder of the art of zanjutsu. How about let's test that out a little, shall we?"
Oh, this is going to be fun .
Hiyori is watching. Of course she's watching; her stupid fucking captain and her stupid fucking not-friends are down there fighting for their lives, and her life, and even though she knows being here is important, some part of her still crawls with fury at being unable to fight.
Hacchi has kindly set up a viewing portal--which, guess that's possible now, whoop-de-fucking-do, somebody should teach idiots with too much power what they should and should not do with it--and Hiyori is watching.
Specifically, she's watching Shinji face off against Unohana.
She knows that Shinji is old, and powerful, and tricky; it's one of the reasons she doesn't bother to restrain her violent impulses around him, because she knows full well that she'd have to get really, really serious in order to even put a scratch on the slippery fucker. It makes him laugh, anyway, more real than his usual creepy-ass fake grin. She also knows that he's a lot more powerful today than he was last month, they all are, but…
It's Unohana . Hiyori has only ever heard the rumors, she knows to be wary the way she knew to be wary of Kisuke or the Soutaichou, but she remembers very well the way Shinji had felt actual fear when they'd thought Unohana had come to take them out herself. That in and of itself speaks volumes, because he's the only one of them who has ever seen her fight seriously, not counting maybe the time travellers.
She'd nearly stabbed herself in the foot when he'd announced he wanted to fight the former Kenpachi for real. There was no way he'd gone from terrified to confident in the minimal time between when Unohana had dropped Gin off with them, and now.
She suspects Shinji is testing himself, pushing his new boundaries in a way a spar can't, not even with their leader, because not a single one of them could believe him capable of harming them, even with his overwhelming power. Urahara, maybe, but despite knowing that the other captain has become far more powerful, tricky, and experienced since the Incident doesn't necessarily mean Shinji feels comfortable going all out with him. Hiyori doesn't think he'd be comfortable going all out with any of them; the idiot is protective like that.
Unohana is different. Like Hiyori could safely unleash on Shinji without fear of causing true damage-- she suspects that Unohana is to Shinji what Shinji is to her. The measuring stick, the ultimate goal… The Soutaicho might be seen as the pinnacle of strength that the Gotei can bring to bear, but Hiyori knows very well that anyone from before , the true Old Guard, are far more wary of Unohana than Yamamoto. She doesn't know why; no one born after the formation of the Gotei does, and it's one of the most speculated-upon mysteries among the lower ranks. She hopes they're not about to find out why almost as much as she wants to see the Fourth Division captain really cut loose.
Shinji and Unohana are still playing around, she thinks. They're at a speed that no average lieutenant could see , much less match, but Hiyori gets the impression that they're still slowly escalating, testing boundaries and warming up. Shinji is tricky with a sword; zanjutsu is his specialty, and his style looks like a cross between traditional kenjutsu and something an assassin might use, feints and slip-thrusts and quick flurries of close exchanges before regaining distance, harrying an opponent until they slip and offer a fatal opening. Unohana uses a more fluid style, absolute precision and flawless defense coupled with surprisingly powerful strikes that would wear her opponent down to nothing.
Really, it's a matter of who slips up first, Unohana's defense or Shinji's dodges, but with the sheer amount of experience both of them have, it could be hours before that happens, even with the way every second of battle stretches time and drags at reserves.
Unsurprisingly, Shinji changes it up first; thus far, Retsu has been allowing him to set the pace of the battle and its escalation. It makes sense--Shinji is the challenger, coming from the arguably weaker position, and Hiyori is certain it's some Old Guard reasoning or tradition that's keeping them from going straight to all out.
From one moment to the next there's a glimmer of light and a wordless kido (maybe a Bakudo? Hiyori specializes in hakuda, not demon arts, but she's no slouch, either…. But she doesn't recognize this one at all ) that adds an odd blur to Sakanade's edge, making it difficult to see precisely where her boundaries lie. Looking at the sword, she seems to shimmer in and out of existence, sometimes wider or thinner or longer or shorter than she should be. The transition from pure bladework to mixing in kido goes so seamlessly that Hiyori would have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it specifically. She's fought with Shinji a lot , and she knows that even if she's never even come close to seeing his bag of tricks, she's got a decent enough grasp on his stupid slippery personality to look for the trick or the illusion. Goddamn magician .
Unohana, not quite as familiar with her counterpart's quirks, almost misses the change due to the way he catches the rising sun on his blade to reflect it into her eyes. If she were any less experienced, the next thrust flickering past her would have torn a long, shallow gouge in her side, just under her ribcage. It's only millennia of combat combined with instinct and cleverly applied battle sensing that lets her catch the trick at the last moment and shove the blade wide with her block instead of simply misdirecting it past herself.
Naturally Shinji takes the opportunity her change has created and slams his empty palm forward into her open shoulder, a Shakkaho swirling into fiery existence in the instant between lunge and contact.
Unohana makes a two-fingered gesture around her sword and a golden Bakudo disc forms and then shatters instantly, scattering the focused energy of Shinji's attack with it.
When the two separate again, Hiyori can see that Unohana is… well, it's about as much of a smile as it is a wolf's snarl, but her glee is evident, and Shinji is doing much the same, wide Cheshire grin as unsettling as possible.
She'd call them bloodthirsty idiots, but she's been holding her breath since the fight started and even knowing how outclassed she is, there's a part of her--a now very vocal part of her--that wants to be right there with them. It really is a magnificent display of skill on both sides. She shakes the adrenaline out of her limbs and leans forward again, intent on the conflict in front of her.
Yoruichi doesn't allow herself to slow down to focus on the rise and fall of reiatsu as the battle surges into existence behind her. It's not the hardest time she's ever had, forcing herself to focus, but it's up there. Only her faith in Kisuke and Ichigo alleviates the need to be there .
She has other duties.
The First division was built more or less around the Central 46's governing building, much like the Second was built around the Maggot's Nest. The members are inside, attended to by a small squad of First division's unseated retainers while the rest of Seireitei's forces are out on the "extermination order." Yoruichi knows they weren't prepared for the outright war they're getting, or even close in their threat estimates, or they'd have kept the entirety of the First--and Yamamoto himself--clustered around themselves as defense.
For a bunch of Clan Elders, they're pretty tactically stupid.
She hasn't used this particular Onmi route in a while, but that doesn't slow her down. She slips through the tiny, high window and onto one of the vaulted rafters supporting the ostentatiously high ceiling, balancing there for a moment as she pinpoints each person in the building.
Eh, they won't be a problem.
She drops soundlessly to the floor and flares her reiatsu in a silent signal, identification and alert simultaneously. There's a rapid shuffle among the ranks of shinigami as they scramble for some sort of formation. Half of them are mid-salute when they realize exactly which captain has decided to drop in on them.
Sheer befuddlement overtakes any sense of propriety on their part, and there's another flurry of activity as they choose a spokesperson by hurried gestures of "not it"s until the unlucky last is pushed to the front of the herd.
"Good morning, Shihouin...taicho? Um, what are you doing here?"
Yoruichi adores baby Shinigami. Well, she adores screwing with them, which is basically the same thing. They have no idea what to do in a situation that deviates beyond their strictly-learned parameters.
Bonus points because, while Yamamoto fills his seated ranks with specialists and rare genius, the unseated ranks of the First are full of pampered Noble children who have no idea what life is really like, and probably never will, given how sheltered and cushy their "jobs" are.
Yeah, Yoruichi was a clan heir herself, but that didn't mean anything in the Shihouin clan. You kept or lost your position based exclusively on your own merit.
She thinks quite a few Noble clans would benefit from that system, honestly. At least it would weed out the lazy and completely incompetent, if not the corrupt and greedy.
Either way, it's not like she couldn't deal with the Council's sheltered relatives any way she wanted. In this particular instance, though…
"Under the orders of Soutaicho Yamamoto, I am hereby deputizing this squad in response to a previously unanticipated threat. You are each to pair off in teams of two. I want two teams by each exit and two teams stationed outside both doors to the main chamber. The other teams I want to sweep the First Division grounds. The most recent information received indicates that there may be an effort to cut the head off the snake, as it were. I will remain in this chamber in case anyone manages to slip by you. One of the traitors used to be in the Second-- if you see him, do not engage. I'll take responsibility for my wayward subordinate and put him down myself ."
Her reiatsu sharpens and hardens as she speaks, and the entire group straightens into a much more enthusiastic salute as she snaps orders.
She wonders if Yamamoto has figured out that some of the Second is actually on the battlefield… and not on his side, either. Damn, but she wants to see that. She'll have to hurry up here, then.Thank goodness no one felt the need to keep the lower ranks actually informed of anything--although even if they had been, it's not unthinkable that Yoruichi herself would have been undercover or off grid seeking out information. She's Onmitsukido. That's what they do , and she is the best bar none. Well, except maybe Kisuke. His capacity for predicting his prey's moves gives him an edge on her that she only balances out by literally having instincts bred for this. In speed, in lethality and ruthlessness and stealth, they have been well matched.
She knows full well that they are no longer even close to matched, despite the way her little brother has been deflecting and hiding away his true abilities--as he has always done, but this time he has a presence to him that he has never had.
Yoruichi turns her attention to the spluttering Council elders, who want to know why they were not informed of this mission beforehand and why had it not come to them to authorize, and offers them her best politician's smile.
Just as the barrier wards etched just inside the edge of the room flare to life, as they do whenever the doors to the chamber are sealed. They will not open from the outside (without extreme measures, anyway).
"Honoured Elders, as I said to the ranks, there has been another threat issued, not against the Gotei 13 but against the Central 46 themselves. I thought it best to come directly before this august body to ensure your safety directly before any other party could reach this place. I am glad I arrived in time. I do apologize for ignoring you initially, but time was of the essence."
She bows deeply, and lets it cover her "fuck you" smirk. She's the Shihouin head; she doesn't actually need to stand on formality with any of them, but it's always good to keep them off-guard. If they think she's here on Shinigami business because she acts like a Shinigami, well…
That would be their mistake, wouldn't it.
The council members exchange glances behind their veiled booths.
"You have come from observing the rogue former captain, yes? Tell us, Shihouin-taicho, how goes the extermination proceedings? We presume the exiles are feeling pressed, if your presence here is any indication."
Yoruichi thanks every single one of her family gods that she and Tessai and Kisuke used to make a game of trying to get each other to break composure; her poker face is flawless and she shows none of the languid, predator-still rage building within her.
"Indeed, Honoured Elders. It is believed that they wish to make one last attempt at peace before they try to take more drastic action. The Shiba bastard seems to believe that simple coexistence is possible. Certainly, the captains destabilized by Aizen have been surprisingly responsive and appear wholly in control of themselves. The extra power they now have access to could prove… problematic for some of the younger Captains. It is my recommendation that only the Captain-commander, his proteges, and Captain Unohana engage with any of the hybrid shinigami."
That gets her a ripple of surprised murmurs. She doesn't know what they expected, if they thought that some of their strongest captains went off and got stronger and weren't going to be a problem to the Gotei's extermination squad.
"What about the other captain, the one that killed Aizen? If we recall correctly, wasn't he also once a part of Onmitsukido?"
Yoruichi nods in affirmation.
"He was one of the most talented recruits we've seen in centuries. It is for this reason that simple assassination will not work on any of them-- he will have warned them what to expect. It is for this same reason that I am the only one capable of protecting your Honored selves, should he choose to come after you. I am the only Captain familiar with his methods and with a chance of matching him."
The Elders look delightfully uneasy now, shifting uncomfortably in their seats and whispering rapidly to each other.
"Shihouin-taicho, given your… unique perspective on the capabilities of the outcasts, how would you recommend we proceed?"
Damn she's good.
Kisuke should be a lot more worried about being on an active battlefield than he actually is. It's hard to feel properly threatened, though, with Ichigo's reiatsu singing across the battlefield and old comrades across from him. He offers Shunsui and Juushiro a cheerful smile as they square off.
They look about as disconcerted as he's ever seen them, which is a rare treat given their even keels and long experience.
They're also wary as hell but at the moment that's just bonus points as far as Kisuke is concerned. They're thinking of his Onmitsukido training, which is fair given his little display upon arriving in this timeline, but a little off base. Kisuke has no intention of killing them; he intends to shake their worldview and absolutely baffle them, but he doesn't plan to hurt them unless absolutely necessary, and he trusts that Ichigo won't let it come to that point.
He also has a Bankai that designed herself to nullify any advantages that others' Bankai give them, but he'd rather keep that to himself if possible. The ninja in him insists that he keep all advantages hidden until the moment to strike, and despite the many decades since his time in Onmi, the instinct remains strong. Kisuke has lost count of the number of times that tendency tipped the hairline boundary of life and death when they faced Aizen. Even though that doesn't really apply here, he's still somewhat… reluctant.
Benihime snickers in the back of his mind.
You're shy , Kisuke, just admit it.
He sends her a nonverbal growl-- he's a great deal better than he used to be--even as he slides her slowly, dramatically, from her sheath.
It is deeply gratifying to see the way both of his opponents leap backwards in alarm. Hime purrs under his hand as her sealed form falls away to reveal the razor edge of their Shikai. It's been a long time since they've really needed a release command.
He tips her blade towards Shunsui in silent warning. It doesn't look like the pair is going to go for their usual "one at a time" trick. No, they're being serious from the outset, and that's just about the biggest compliment they could have given him. That actually makes things a little easier on him, because while he could have taken out whichever of them was sitting out, it would have required a little more lethality than he really preferred. This way at least he won't have one of them looking for an opening to take potshots at, anyway. Besides, he's here to keep them both busy, and letting them split up won't accomplish that in the slightest.
There's also the little factor that Kisuke knows very well how both of their Shikai and Bankai work, which negates another of their immediate advantages. With luck, they won't know how to deal with an opponent who isn't subject to the bafflement of trying to figure out the mechanics of Shunsui's games and Juushiro's returns while they figure out his abilities in return.
Also, as tricky-sneaky as they are, Kisuke is a ninja . He was literally raised in the school of playing dirty. He knows what to look for and where to guard himself and how to turn his enemy's attacks and traps and strategies against them. He's never had to use it against these two, but that's all part of the fun.
Neither of his opponents looks inclined to move first--clever of them, but not going to help this time. He's been weaving a subtle kido through his fingers since he'd first stopped in front of them. It's a little thing, practically invisible, but it seeps through the ground beneath him in an ever-spreading circle, augmenting his senses in that area in a mild feedback loop. It gives him just that split-second of warning that he otherwise wouldn't have.
For someone like him, a split second is a hell of a difference.
He flicks Benihime in a tight circle, tracing a glowing red orb into existence. It's not Shakkaho, or a Bala, but something between the two, a spinning, compacted ball of destruction. It's deceptively fast and packs a decent punch for its size, but that's not why Kisuke chose it.
It streaks toward Shunsui, leaving a brilliant afterimage trailing behind it. Shunsui, predictably, leaps backwards, allowing Juushiro to slide in sideways with a blade outstretched to catch it.
And then Kisuke tugs on the reiatsu string attached to the orb, hidden in the glowing tail of its afterimage, just enough to change the spin on the attack. It curves wide, bypassing Juushiro entirely to resume its path toward Shunsui.
All three of them leap clear as it detonates with a deafening boom. Kisuke is pleased to note that Shunsui looks faintly singed, the trailing edge of his haori smoking lightly.
"What was that? You didn't modify yourself , did you?"
Kisuke laughs airily, waving a hand absently in the air.
"No, no, there was no need for that. I was just playing around with recreating some of their attacks. With my own little twist, of course. I'm glad this one worked! Some of the others went wrong rather spectacularly, you know how it is."
His opponents exchange glances that say that no, they very much do not know how it is, nor do they want to know.
Kisuke takes the opportunity to continue reinforcing Hime's net of landmines that they'd laid under cover of the explosion, and begin to weave together the very edges of the net, like a drawstring bag lying fully open. If either of them try to cross that boundary, the whole thing will snap shut and bring the explosives with it. Kisuke, on the other hand, can wander in and out of the net as needed-- it's his own reiatsu, after all. It recognizes him as a part of itself.
He's trying to decide if a pressure- activated spike trap is a little excessive as a field deterrent when Shunsui makes his first move. As usual, the man tries to finish things in an instant; he flashsteps behind Kisuke and aims a spine-severing blow at his back.
Kisuke isn't sure whether or not he should be offended or amused-- he's been a captain for a decade in their experience, and before that he was an Onmitsukido recruit personally trained by the clan head right alongside the Goddess of the Flash herself. To think that they would try to catch him in a contest of speed?
They couldn't have done it even back when he actually was this age, much less after well over a century of experience and at least a decade of existence-threatening, endless combat.
He only debates his next action for an instant before he gives in to the mischievous impulse and drops into a flashstep of his own. Before Shunsui can quite realize that his target isn't there anymore, Kisuke is standing behind him, turning Shunsui's straw hat over in his hands.
As far as declarations of skill go, that was a pretty impressive one, if he does say so himself. It's a clear statement that he could have just done-- successfully--what Shunsui had attempted, and chose not to.
He skips backward with a chuckle as Shunsui whips around with a wild slash and Juushiro attacks from the side, aiming to trap him between being skewered or bisected. He trips away lightly, keeping his attention ostensibly on the hat and feeling remarkably like a teacher once again as the frustration his opponents are feeling mounts. He tries on the hat for size, peering out at them from under the wide brim. The sharp spike of alarm from Shunsui and flat-out fear from Juushiro are being replaced by steadily growing avoidance.
Good. They both need a reality check, but really, there's no need to fear him. It would take a lot more to drive him to that point. Something like losing Ichigo forever, for instance.
Well.
Maybe they're right to have a little fear.
Shinji doesn't think he could describe what he's feeling right now if he tried. It's not fear, not really, nor excitement or anticipation or exhilaration, but some heady mix of all of them surging through his veins. His life is on the line, here--a single slip and Unohana will be on him like the wolf she is. There's no hostility, but there's no room for weakness either. Every instant has to be flawless .
He hasn't felt so alive in centuries .
He can tell that Retsu feels the same, her smile wilder than he's seen in many, many years, maybe since the last time he saw her and the Soutaicho really going at it, their last fight before the Kenpachi had sealed herself away and become the newest dog of Seireitei. Each time their swords meet, he can feel her soul singing against his, rising to the challenge and returning it, a feral, echoing warsong in two parts, neither participant missing a single beat.
His illusory Kido skills are unparalleled among the Gotei, and he knows it. The only person capable of matching him would have been Aizen, as he hears the time-traveling duo tell it, and that man is dead, good riddance.
Unohana, however, is keeping up with him effortlessly, illusions or no. She has the best reiatsu control of any of the old guard--has spent a millennium honing it, at the least--and that means that her senses are just as unmatched as his illusions. He's never actually seen anyone use sensory kido, if it can be considered kido at all, the way she is right now, actually, and if he had to take a wild guess he'd say she's actually closed her senses off except to the small area they're actually fighting in, focusing every ounce of that formidable control until it can tell her the faintest brush of reiatsu or air currents or even his intent . Somewhat ironically, it's also the most effective counter for his illusions that he could have conceived of, and it makes his usual bag of tricks all but obsolete. It's difficult to confuse the senses with contradictory input once the mind has the master key, so to speak.
Luckily, he's got a whole new skillset to play with these days.
He drops the kido that's been concealing Sakanade's true form, and another that flickered distractingly in the corner of his opponent's eyes when they're not looking, and a third that wove between their feet like slow water, concealing the ground they're standing on and occasionally condensing into abrupt obstacles beneath its surface. None of them are throwing Unohana off anyway, not that he'd truly expected them to. Still, an instant's advantage is still very much an advantage, when fighting an enemy of this caliber, which is why he'd tried them in the first place… that, and a little bit of the need to show off now that he doesn't really have to conceal so much of his capabilities anymore. He's always admired that about Retsu--she's never bothered to hide anything a day in her life. She's so strong that she's never had to; her opponents had gone in knowing her abilities and still wandered out broken and bleeding if at all. Shinji, no, Shinji's had his years of needing to conceal, to redirect and trick and play at being weaker or stronger than he was in order to hide from or scare away bigger predators. He's an illusion-type Zanpakuto with a flourish for Kido, neither of which are considered overly powerful in the world of Shinigami, and illusion-types were definitely looked down on in the centuries before the Gotei really grew into its own. Kido didn't even come until the second or third century of the Seireitei establishment, anyway. Everything before that was just generally designated as "Demon Arts" and any further study was up to the practitioner.
Sometimes, he still has a hard time believing that there's an entire division dedicated to researching, experimenting on, and developing new Kido. Zanjutsu, sure. Hakuda, absolutely. Hohou? Why not? But Kido?
Maybe it's just his history with the prejudiced little fucks who never made it past their third century, but a part of him is very gleefully appreciative, indeed.
Anyway, he doesn't need to hide now, not with the dual assurance in his soul and at his back, safety net and offensive wall both. Now, should he so desire, Shinji can cut loose.
Not that he intends to play his whole hand, old or new, and he still probably wouldn't even if his life depended on it, but there's a lot less urgency to that secrecy than there was two months ago.
As the kido dissipate into bright little bursts of reiatsu--another attempt at disorienting an opponent who used every sense to such efficiency--he takes a quick step back into the air, cushioning himself lightly on the balls of his feet. Retsu will join him sooner rather than later, but Shinji had wanted a second to assess the battlefield around him, and he knows that the former Kenpachi will be taking the opportunity to do the same before they return their focus to each other to the exclusion of all else. No one seems particularly distressed at the moment, and he can feel Kurosaki's reiatsu curling through the air, suffusing the battlefield and countering the heavy weight of the Soutaicho's. He knows that the moment someone even appears to falter, their savior-leader (Alpha? hah ) will be there.
That's enough for him. Besides, that means that no one's been pressed hard enough to resort to anything, and that means that Shinji gets to be the first to debut this new power.
Sakanade hums in his soul, and his Arrancar counterpart rumbles in agreement, eagerness flooding all three of them in perfect harmony.
In a gesture that's becoming more and more like second nature, Shinji brings his free hand up to his eyes and rakes downward.
The burst of hollow-flavored reiatsu ripples across the battlefield, and Shinji and his mirror image flow into each other. It's a heady feeling, and they can't hold this form for too long yet without destabilizing, but they maintain their balance a little longer each time.
Sakanade howls , and they leap forward with more speed than they've yet shown, pouring themselves into a shunpo that would leave Yoruichi scrambling to keep up on a good day. They're behind Unohana in an instant, a clawed hand hidden behind a blade strike, and as she guides their blade past her, their spearhand slides in through her guard and rips into her flank, leaving a gash about the length of their own palm before the Captain manages to tear herself free.
First blood is theirs .
Rose and Love have been partners long before they were Shinigami. They'd entered the Academy together, sponsored by a particular grinning, long-haired Captain. They hadn't known it at the time, but Shinji had a habit of finding and recruiting Rukongai brats with more spiritual power and stubbornness than sense-- Hiyori, Mashiro, and Kensei also owe him their current positions, and probably their lives as well. While none of them had given too much thought to this tendency previously, they've all learned a great deal more about each other in the past few months. If Rose had to take a wild guess, he'd say that Shinji had a little more experience with Rukongai than just the theoretical. Most of the older Shinigami, the pre-Gotei Shinigami, do, if they're not directly from a noble clan, but… this feels pretty personal, and Rose has learned to trust his instincts about such things.
Rukongai rats tend to recognize each other, no matter how many centuries and how much power separates now from then.
His point is, he trusts Shinji, for all the trickster ex-Captain likes to play at being unreliable and shady and vaguely malicious. How the man manages that and still tends to come across as mostly harmless is a mystery for the ages.
Urahara does the whole idiot shtick too now, and it's probably even more disconcerting coming from the former assassin. Well, as "former" as an assassin ever really gets, which considering the neat disposal of Aizen two months ago, clearly isn't saying much. He's good at it, too, and it's jarring given the shy, sheepish captain Rose had known before this whole mess happened.
He has a terrible feeling that Kisuke picked up a thing or two from Shinji in the future-that-wasn't.
Worse, little Gin is clearly picking up things from both of them along with whatever the Shihouin goddess is teaching him, and Rose fears .
In fact, the only thing that might scare him more than those three and their unholy trinity of mindfuckery is the way all three of them gravitate around Kurosaki/Shiba/Whoever Ichigo.
Point is, the only thing on this entire battlefield that could scare him these days is busy with an extra-manic Shinji, and the uncouth, blood-drunk captain of the 11th didn't make that list even before they all got an upgrade. Frankly, he thinks that perhaps he and Love are a little overkill for this particular idiot, only he's still technically a Kenpachi and that should be afforded the respect due to the title. According to Kurosaki, the one that comes after is better in just about every way, but that just means that they have to be careful not to kill this one and end up saddled with the title themselves. Sure, fighting is fun, but neither of them are truly the brute-force berserkers best fitted for the position, ridiculous cudgel of Love's or not.
It's almost insultingly easy to take Kiganjo apart, actually. Rose knows they've gotten stronger, but this is just sloppy. How is Seireitei supposed to survive if one of their biggest deterrents is getting led around the field by his nose because he's too angry to stop and think ?
The man charges Love again--like the big weapon is the only threat, hah-- and Rose dances in from the side to take another bite out of his flank with Kinshara. The whip sings in his hand, amused and haughty.
Let him underestimate us. By the time he realizes his folly it will be too late and he will be laid low.
Rose hums in agreement with his older counterpart, and the newly-named Kakyoku tosses their feathered hair and chimes a laugh of their own. Rose might be biased, but he thinks he might have been one of the luckiest of the Vizored, as they're calling themselves now. Kakyoku has the dual tones of a Hollow, yes, but rather than manifesting in the typically rough rasp normal to the species, their voice carries the clear, dancing sound of wind chimes, layered into a single melody.
Rose is plenty vain, certainly, but he doesn't think it vanity in the slightest to count himself truly lucky to have a soul bearing not one but two of the most beautiful beings he's ever encountered. Even now, so soon into his newly minted partnership with Kakyoku, he doesn't think he could give them up any more than he could give up Kinshara. The three of them exist in perfect balance and they're still finding their new limits and exploring their abilities and Rose thrives on it.
He can't say he'd expected waking up in a cell with his own soul made Arrancar, at least partly, but it's worth all the chaos to date.
Kiganjo howls in fury and pain and spins on his heel to snarl in Rose's direction. Rose waves Kinshara lazily back and forth, weaving her tip in front of the Kenpachi's eyes in time with the low, rhythmic hum of her vibration. The man's eyes track her involuntarily, charmed like a snake before a musician. In a long-practiced switch, Love takes advantage of their opponent's distraction and leaps forward to press the attack from behind. Kiganjo barely manages to get his zanpakuto up in time to catch the heavy blow of the mace. Rose grins and darts closer, crouching, and exactly on-beat, Tengumaru bursts into flames with a sudden roar. The Kenpachi recoils from the explosion of fire, right into Kinshara, who gleefully tangles between the man's legs, biting deeply with each coil. Rose sweeps her upwards, and Kiganjo falls as his legs are abruptly removed from underneath him, dangling in the air like an unsightly pinata.
Love chuckles, and Rose can hear his partner's own Arrancar in the back of his voice.
"Batter's up!"
Rose will never understand the man's obsession with ball sports, but he's got to admit, it's pretty satisfying to watch Tengumaru collide with their opponent's head with a heavy thud . Kiganjo hits the ground hard as Rose drops him, and Rose and Love both peer down at the man with a growing sense of dissatisfaction.
"He's not out already, is he?"
Kinshara pokes at him carefully, once and then twice, more roughly, and then on the third jab a massive hand snaps out and wraps around her bladed tip without a thought for the damage being caused to the meaty appendage.
"Hell no… I'm not done yet. You little shits ain't done near enough damage for that… I haven't even gotten started ."
Eh, it's probably more bravado than sense, but Rose isn't feeling particularly merciful today. He doesn't mind playing around to see how much longer the idiot keeps getting back up. Kinshara cracks and whistles as she coils around his shoulders like a living thing, and Love on the other side of their downed opponent is grinning at Rose in a very familiar way.
Yes, they can play for a while longer.