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Chiaroscuro[]
Another tragedy had befallen the Soul Society. Once more, a grave threat had emerged from beneath the veil of long-term conspiracy to strike without a warning. And what a crippling blow that was. The Seireitei invaded, the Captain-Commander slain. Third Division Captain Teruo Akui could not help but cringe at the flashbacks to the Quincy Blood War from a few years ago. The suddenness, despair, impotent fury, great loss, they all reminded him of that horrible conflict. Now, the next one had just begun and despite his eagerness to fight, he simply could not.
"What is this... madness?", he seethed.
He was in Hueco Mundo. There was no doubt about it. Stranded in the middle of an endless white desert, a pitch black sky high above. Akui had attacked the vile intruders but must have been transported to this realm shortly afterward. Some sort of Kidō spell... He was never fond of spiritual magic. Recent developments had not improved his opinion on the subject. Regardless, he knew where he was. And virtually nothing else. What about the others? Did the Seireitei fall? What should he do? Questions without answers resounded within his mind as he wandered restlessly across the white dunes. He had since sealed his Zanpakutō, although the katana remained in the firm grip of his left hand at the ready. The cold steel was thirsty; it longed for enemy blood.
But there was none to spill. Or was there? He stopped, attempted to silence the boiling fury within. Focus. Teruo could sense some spiritual pressure signatures not that far away from his current position. One of them felt rather familiar. Perhaps he had not been sent to Hueco Mundo alone. Because at present he had no better ideas, he propelled himself into the air in a giant leap that carried him right next to the source of the person he thought he recognised. After all, two heads were better than one.
"Heh..."
A whisper in the shadows. Shrouded in the density of power that saturated the world of the Hollows, it would've been hard to distinguish a foreign source of energy so different from the countless number of forlorn souls doomed to tread upon these sandy wastelands. Yet the shadow remained hidden, simply watching the movements of this visitor, but by no means did he remain passive.
As that Captain made his way across the dark skies of Hueco Mundo, he would soon find himself in the middle of a storm; a literal hailstorm of Hollows convened on his location. To the naked eye, this horde of masked beasts were no different than the usual ones that Shinigami found themselves handling, yet when one gave them a closer glance, a strange patchwork of tendrils appeared to occupy the space where their Hollow holes were located. Black eerie threads, almost like a spider web dipped in jet-black oil, were within the holes of every Hollow that converged toward Teruo; all baring their claws and fangs with every intention of ripping the Shinigami Captain apart.
The distance was considerable. About halfway through his enormous leap, Akui noticed the swarm of bemasked monsters converging upon him. As such, he halted his motion, suspended a few dozen metres above the surface of the endless white desert below. He raised his eyebrows slightly in an expression of mild surprise. So what he had initially assumed to be spiritual pressures of a few individuals was in fact the overlapping signatures of several groups of mere Hollows.
That kind of enemy he knew well. He had fought them many times during his career as a Shinigami. In fact, he had slain an Adjuchas while still a Seated Officer some years ago. Swarm or not, the small fry were hardly intimidating. Teruo narrowed his eyes. For them to attack him even in such numbers... That was odd. True, he was suppressing his own spiritual pressure and he would not expect them to recognise a Captain's haori. Perhaps that was the reason. But as he gazed at the Hollows whilst they were approaching him from all sides, readying himself to fend them off, he discerned that something was strange about them. Something stuck in their Hollow holes, peculiar threads stretching outward, reaching somewhere far off in the distance.
Puppets?
He assumed a stance. The trinity of existence: physical, mental and spiritual aspects were united toward a single purpose. There was no need to exert himself, yet he preferred to remain vigilant. Rapidly he unleashed his spiritual power, undid the restraints deliberately imposed upon it to conserve energy and maintain a low profile. The edge of his Zanpakutō's blade flickered with a faint tangerine glow. The grip on the hilt tightened, one foot shuffled forward. Then, he anticipated their assault, his sword against their teeth and talons. He moved slowly forward, floating in the air like some sort of performer. Channelled through his Zanpakutō, his spiritual pressure extended arcs of lethal sharpness through the enemy ranks, carving deep into them in a shower of dark blood. Swing after swing, tens of Hollows dismembered, decapitated or cut in half in a twister of steel death.
One second, they were about to drown him in bodies. Few moments later, a rain of grisly remains poured upon the sand below, limp bodies and writhing appendages descending upon it in an eerie silence. Meanwhile, Akui observed briefly the results of his calmly executed kata. Then, he swung his blade to the side to remove some of the blood from it. He did not sheathe it, though.
"That ought to do for an appetiser", he murmured. "Striking from the shadows like a dirty coward, eh? Where is all the flashiness from a while ago?", he said in a raised voice, his words echoing in the area.
The shadow responsible for the attack crept out further into the light, growing in size and shape, conforming into the visage of a person until that shadow's source came to the Captain's line of sight; the figure of Arata Kogo, a Mage within the enemy organization that had seized control of the Shinigami's world. Though he remained silent for that moment, his hands firmly placed in his jacket pockets, that wicked grin could not be mistaken. Strangely enough, even with the way the moon was positioned over Hueco Mundo, the Mage's shadow was suspiciously larger than one might expect at first glance.
"So... it would seem you had the poor misfortune of being sent into the same domain as me. Are you here to take back the world we stole? Or perhaps..." Arata's grin widened; it was no longer the face of a villain smirking in light of his advantage, but a sickening smile of a demon that has crawled its way out of hell. "...Have you come to exact revenge on us for murdering your dear leader?" Cackles broke that tight-lipped grin as he removed his hands from the overcoat. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm afraid your journey for righteousness has come to its bitter end, Shinigami Captain."
Arata made a motion with his right hand, leaving the left hand concealed, as several red spheres began to appear all around his person; numbering easily in the twenties or thirties. In the very instant they appeared, crimson chains erupted from those points of origin — a mixture of two binding spells, Geki and Sajō Sabaku, cast simultaneously. Lunging for Teruo, they stopped short of the Captain's location and began to break off in different directions, almost as if forming an enclosure around the Captain. As Arata conducted this act, he spoke at the same time. "Born of an ethereal world. Bondage that hunts the wicked without failure. Look upon yourself with horror and then claw out your own throat!" the Mage called out, combining the incantations for both aforementioned spells and then speaking it after the spell's activation, thus strengthening it further; two disciplines carried out nigh effortlessly, the mark of a Kidō specialist at Arata's level. Once the incantation was spoken, the red glow seemed to grow far more intense, shining brightly as the chains moved about faster around the Captain's vicinity.
The Mage's mockery triggered a lance of wrath to pierce Teruo's mind. In spite of the late Captain-Commander's casual attitude he had held him in high regard. Not to mention the fact he was not exactly amused by the invasion on Soul Society that followed. Akui was furious, and as anger exploded within him he dropped his guard for a moment. As such, his reaction to the binding spell was slightly delayed. First, he leapt to the side to evade the chains outstretching toward him, yet they followed him closely. With a hasty swipe to the side he cut off a portion of the enhanced Sajō Sabaku. Nevertheless, the rest managed to wrap around and restrain him right afterward.
"You dare speak about righteousness!?", he exclaimed, a sinister frown contorting his countenance. "You're pigs without honour!"
His well-defined, wiry muscles swelled, veins bulging out as he struggled against the bakudō spell. The faint shine outlining the edge of his Zanpakutō quickly spread to envelop his whole body.
"And I'll butcher you like pigs", seethed Teruo, a wide, uncanny grin now plastered on his face.
The emanations of his spiritual pressure radiated in increasingly potent waves. The air began undulating. Flexing his whole body like a single muscle Akui strained the binding spell, which creaked in protest. The corroding properties of his energy ate away at the links of the chain.
"Hnnnghraaah!", he yelled in exertion.
Suddenly, the enhanced Sajō Sabaku virtually exploded, and so did the Captain's power as it skyrocketed to a level more appropriate for battle. Barely had the shockwave of the abrupt release reached the Mage of the Coven, so did Teruo himself. He had propelled himself toward Kogo like a projectile, changing his trajectory on the move to pass by him. In that moment he performed a single lightning-fast swing to cleave the enemy in an instant. However, he did not expect a Captain-class foe to fall to one blow. Thus, to further exploit his momentum, he rotated behind the mage. He shuffled his left leg to trip him up, swung his Zanpakutō in a broad slash to cut him in twain, and finished the rapid manoeuvre with a two-finger jab of his right hand aimed at the nape of the neck to burst right through Arata's throat from behind.
Arata's grin only seemed to widen once the Captain began his assault. His shadow, the elongated mystery of a dark figure, only seemed to become distorted in shape as the Captain neared him. And once Teruo approached and passed him, his sword swung to cleave him in twine during his rush, a loud clanging sound rung in the air; as if the Captain's blade collided with steel of some kind. In the aftermath of that attack, there was no injury of any kind upon Arata, strangely enough. Once Teruo began his rotation to continue his attack on his Coven adversary, another figure had appeared, smashing two blades into Teruo's own to subvert any chance of making contact with the Mage. Once the collision was carried out, both the figure and Arata garnered distance from the rampaging Shinigami.
It was only then that the figure's details could been seen, and the sight of such a person would undoubtedly fill even Teruo with shock. It was none other than the slain Captain-Commander himself, Kyōraku Shunsui; the only difference being that his eyes were entirely black, a faint white pupil seen in the center of each, with his skin gray and pale. The figure held its dual blades, a katana and a wakizashi, at the ready as Arata simply maintained the same smirk as before. "I daresay you owe me a word of gratitude, Shinigami Captain. Now you've been given a second chance, to tell your last words to your dear Captain-Commander." the Mage mused, before more shadows began to tread upon the battlefield.
Another figure made itself known, standing upon a tall tower of eroding white rock, wearing a similar white robe that the being resembling Kyōraku also wore underneath the pink flowery kimono. Though covered in darkness, there was no mistaking its identity; the fallen Captain of the 13th Division, who met his death over a decade ago during the Quincy invasion. Ukitake Jūshirō; he too bearing pale ghost-like skin and black eyes lit up with that singular white pupil. But before Teruo would be given much of a chance to let all of this sink it, the two replicas pounced on him with tremendous speed; swinging their respective dual blades in the Captain's direction, desiring to cut him down in that instant.
Death God[]
Surely enough, Akui did not manage to utter a proper response in time. The expression of bewilderment transitioned into a grimace befitting a mad dog, a frown and bared teeth. Said grimace only aggravated when the two copies charged at him in the following instant. Immediately, the Captain found himself overwhelmed, losing ground quickly as the four blades pressed against his single one. Employing tegatana, Teruo formed an additional impromptu blade with his right hand to aid him in defence against the storm of blades that threatened to consume him.
Both replicas were powerful and skilled. Swing after swing, thrust after thrust, Akui was being pushed back relentlessly. Swiping furiously with his own weapons, he just barely protected himself from an abrupt death. Nevertheless, soon a cut appeared on his left cheek, then on his right arm. There was no way he could withstand that kind of assault indefinitely. Sooner or later, he would succumb to the two copies. However, in spite of his shock and anger, he had one thing that the two lacked: indomitable will. He had already failed because of his weakness once. That would never happen again.
The perfect moment. A spike of spiritual energy rapidly invigorated Akui's body, so that he ducked, avoiding yet another potential killing blow. Then, swiftly he performed an elbow strike into the solar plexus of copy-Kyōraku behind him, and a butterfly kick to the face of copy-Ukitake in front of him. In order to exploit his momentum, Teruo continued to rotate at an alarming pace, extending the Zanpakutō in his hand. In consequence, he briefly transformed into a man-sized lethal spinning top. The force of his motion was sufficient to create a sizeable whirlwind. Even if he did not tear them apart, he should at least be able to knock them back in separate directions.
The tempest died down. From within Teruo leapt at the replica of Shunsui, his Zanpakutō descending in a two-handed vertical slash toward the latter's head. Then, he swung the blade to the side and instantly followed with a jab to the heart. A whirring flurry of rapid cuts showered the enemy right aferward. Teruo pushed forward with another bone-shattering two-handed slash, this time a horizontal one, performed a return swing, then attacked the copy with a crescent kick. Striking hard and fast, time and again, he maintained a vicious onslaught. Both of his opponents were formidable but out of the two he had deemed the unpredictable Katen Kyōkotsu as the greater danger. As he alternated sword thrusts and finger jabs in another volley of blows, Teruo hoped to cripple at least one of the eerie copies.
Both resurrected Captains were separated by that powerful whirlwind, sent off flying as their facial expressions just as dead-pan as ever. As Teruo's assault began on the one resembling Kyōraku, the latter quickly started to parry with the same tremendous finesse one might've expected from the original. Of course, it wasn't perfect, as some cuts managed to get in, but something strange seemed to occur; no blood was pouring from those wounds nor did the body's motions change or slow down due to taking those wounds. It was almost as if this moving entity was not alive whatsoever, or perhaps even a doll with the late Captain-Commander's face. In the middle of the Captain's series of attacks, Kyōraku interrupted his rhythm to launch a counterattack — "Zangerin" — speaking with a monotone voice as both his blades were coated in an intense energy. The twin energy blades erupted forth with enough force to at least push Teruo back, if not injure the Captain depending upon his response to the assault, yet regardless of the result, it allowed Kyōraku to garner distance.
Once he did, both of his blades appeared to transform once the copy spoke once more in that emotionless tone — "Katen Kyōkotsu." They had rivaled their appearance now, one blade still shorter than the other, resembling scimitars. "Bushōgoma: Hadō 78, Zangerin." From both of Kyōraku's blades, twin energy blades once more appeared, yet now seemed to flow into one another to form a tremendous tornado of pure spiritual energy, tunneling for Teruo. Bushōgoma was normally a technique from Kyōraku's Zanpakutō, one of the "games" made real by Katen Kyōkotsu, and normally, one thought the Bushōgoma was a skill that summoned a whirlwind. Yet, this did not truly represent Bushōgoma's potential. It is a technique that plays the game "spinning top", and since Katen Kyōkotsu turned the entire vicinity touched by her reiatsu into her playroom, the technique normally manifested by using the most readily available source to produce that spinning top: the air itself. Thus, Bushōgoma almost always would take on the form of a whirlwind. Yet, there was always the potential for other sources to be used; in this case, Kidō itself, the pride of the Coven and the mage that summoned this copy of the deceased Kyōraku, would become the fuel for this spinning top.
Teruo was able to just barely evade the abrupt Kidō blast thanks to his well-honed reflexes. However, that strike was merely the opening to pave the way for what was to follow shortly. Fortunately, when attacked so quickly, so relentlessly, his immediate response was to fight. He had hoped to prevent copy-Kyōraku from releasing his Shikai but that was exactly what happened next. That event triggered his own.
"Giji Kyūseishu!"
In a flash of light his katana transformed into an armoured gauntlet and vambrace upon his left arm. Then, he switched his stance to an opening one belonging to Hakuda. He might have been a fine, ferocious swordsman, yet his skill had proven insufficient to overcome the likes of the late Captain-Commander, or even his disturbing replica. Akui's forte was martial arts, though, and that would be required for the purpose of this fight. Just in time for the opponent's next technique. With a risen guard Akui had little choice but to weather the powerful whirlwind, knocked back and damaged somewhat in the aftermath. His body, toughened during countless hours of arduous physical conditioning withstood the attack, but for how long could he keep that up? Rather than work methodically toward a victory he had been balancing at the precipice of defeat so far.
Balance. In that brief moment whilst flying backward, he thought about the circumstances. Not only did the Mage invade the Seireitei, not only did he sully the memory of a fallen Captain-Commander, but he made a mockery of the tenuous balance of Souls that allowed the world as everyone knew it to exist. With that thought he regained control and stopped mid-air. Overwhelmed or not, he had to make sure that the enemy would pay for that. Whatever the cost.
"This is... unforgivable!", he roared at Arata. "Shunkō!"
The air around him undulated briefly. Once more, a faint aura of tangerine hue enveloped his whole body. This time, however, said glow quickly exploded into a wailing flame wreathed in currents of electricity. The atmosphere of Hueco Mundo was saturated with ambient spiritual energy. Undoubtedly a considerable boon for a spellcaster, although Teruo had his own way to benefit from the same abundant resource. As such, by asserting control over that energy he now boasted an amount significantly greater than what his own body could supply to bolster his attack power, resilience, as well as agility beyond his limits. In order to win he had to get rid of one of the opponents as soon as possible, and that was the boost he needed to do that.
Like a comet, he descended toward the eerie clone of the Captain-Commander. First was a lightning-fast knifehand strike followed by a crushing hook to the face. Then, once he forcefully assumed a position directly in front of the enemy, his energy erupting in a shockwave, he performed a roundhouse kick. Next was a flurry of jabs executed with both of his hands, tens per second, each and every one of them aiming at some vital point to cripple the replica. Soon, the jabs transitioned flawlessly into a series of fast punches dealing aggravating damage within an instant. Then, a chambered punch from the right arm, a left uppercut to the abdomen, and a high reverse roundhouse kick. That was not the end, though. With Copy-Kyōraku presumably knocked back by the force of the assault, Teruo rotated further to face him and jutted his armoured left arm in his direction, exposing a colourless gem embedded in the palm of his Shikai.
"Seijōki!"
Nightmarishly howling flames burst forth in a thick stream amplified by the shroud of Shunkō to immerse and consume the clone in a tempest of highly corrosive fury.
It seemed as though the fallen Kyōraku had no way to properly deal with such an assault. Sure, his movements managed to evade most attacks, his blades were able to parry quite well, yet several of those vicious strikes broke through those defenses, pummeling into the deceased Captain-Commander's body as he went flying; his back smashed hard into a cliffside just before Teruo began to initiate his flame-based technique. The Captain's body was riddled with injuries; gashes running up along his torso, blood trickling down along his legs and arms, and even more blood pouring from the sides of his lips. He lay there, seemingly unconscious, as the haunting flames reared up to consume him. Yet...
"Sōgyo no Kotowari." another soft yet emotionless voice rung, as another figure appeared between the howling flames and Kyōraku; the one from before, Ukitake. It was the power of his sword, to pull in an attack through one of those dual swords, connected by a chain, and redirect it through the other blade. Once it was captured, those same flames erupted from the tip of the other sword, flowing outwards like a river of fire toward Teruo; with the very redirection of flames concealing both the beaten Kyōraku and the invading Ukitake from view. When the flames would clear, whether Teruo would dodge them, offset them, or whatever, the two Captains would once more be within his line of sight.
Slowly, but surely, Kyōraku stood up once more. And something miraculous appeared to happen during that exchange. Not a single trace of injury could be seen anywhere on the fallen Captain's body. He was as good as new. With both Captains at the ready, they begun their counter attack. Ukitake vanished with the use of flash step, as Kyōraku swung his blades once more, producing several whirlwinds now with the use of his Bushōgoma; three to be exact, all moving around to corner Teruo. He most likely wouldn't have known until afterwards, but within one of these whirlwinds was Ukitake, hiding to engage Teruo the moment he attempted any counterattack.
"Now do you understand? The death of your Captain-Commander because of your stubbornness... The sacrifice of the poor white-haired Captain... This karma is a cross that you Shinigami are meant to bear. No matter how much you struggle, you will be forced to repeatedly kill your former comrades again and again until you meet your ugly end!" spoke Arata, the cruel words of the Mage followed by a cold snicker; a strange shadow, almost like the one from before, seemed to fade in and around Arata's own shadow, as he taunted Teruo.
Akui had not expected the other Captain to intercept the attack, even though he should have been. Reacting instinctually, he formed a guard and parried the returned eldritch flames, deflecting them to the side. His own shroud defended him from their effects - mostly. Then, he witnessed the copy-Kyōraku revitalised, preparing for the next onslaught now with his undead comrade at his side. Teruo had fought Hollows and the Quincy. However, that was the first time he faced an enemy spellcaster in battle. With little knowledge on the subject and no experience to fall back on, he was quite at a loss.
Yet his current opponents were familiar. More than that, he ceased to see them as replicas. It was obvious that they were somewhat... lacking. Imperfect. Decent knock-offs rather than identical copies, undeniably strong but not as strong as the originals. Shadows of two respectable veteran Captains. Probably, he was still not strong enough to defeat either of them quickly... but he did not have to.
He blocked the first Bushōgoma, then the second. The third one surprised him, revealing copy-Ukitake from within the arcs of destructive wind. Zanpakutō clashed against Zanpakutō, submerging itself in the humming, wildly pulsating shroud of electrified energy that enveloped Teruo's whole body. The enemy continued his attack, showering him with rapid strikes of the twin swords. Nevertheless, the young Captain stood his ground this time, blocking or dodging all of the blows.
"Who are you... to decide such things!?", the tone of his question implied Akui had his own opinion on the matter. "Who are you to tamper... with the flow of Souls!? You and your minions... I shall... expose the extent of your corruption!"
Corruption. That was the special ability of his Zanpakutō. Every time he landed or defended from a blow, all the time the replicas were exposed to the emanations of his violent aura, even as the shadow of Ukitake intercepted and fired back his technique, they were subject to the insidious influence of Giji Kyūseishu. Bit by bit it degraded whatever it touched on a conceptual level. True, there was little to no personality for it to affect. However, the physical remained a perfectly viable target. At first, the effects were unnoticeable. But soon enough unnatural strain would contract the muscles, skin would begin to peel off, the flow of energy disturbed and the Zanpakutō rendered suspiciously brittle... War of attrition had begun.
Akui blocked another strike, then performed a headbutt in-between the blades pressing against his forearms. Afterward, he jumped and started stomping at the copy's head with great force, the tangerine flames channeled through the hits extending to engulf the latter. Suddenly, Teruo propelled himself backward with the last kick to gain some distance. The moment he turned to face the opponent again, he aimed his armoured gauntlet right at him.
"Meihikari!"
With a shrill sound a thick beam of light exploded from the palm of his Shikai, not unlike a Cero. Immediately afterward Akui leapt to the side and launched another beam. Then again, and again, flickering afterimages accumulating about the copy of the white-haired Captain in a peculiar, deadly light show. At last, spinning rapidly about his axis, Teruo unleashed another technique: the Seijōki once more. Bolstered by his aura, a veritable whirlwind of eerie flames set the whole area on fire, threatening to immerse both of the simulacra summoned by Kogo, if not reaching the Mage as well.
Explosions rocked the sandy lands of the battlefield, causing literal ripples to manifest with every tremendous shockwave, as those flames licked the ground with such intense heat that glass deposits were starting to form all along the ground in various spots throughout the area. Yet as the flames subsided from the vicious assault, what stood before Teruo was a massive rectangular series of cube-like constructs forged from spiritual energy — without a doubt, they were Kidō structures; layers of barriers that surrounded an injured Ukitake. However, even as the corruption tore away at the fake Captain's body, while within the barrier, those same injuries were beginning to regress. It was as if time itself was turning back as Ukitake's body found itself being restored, all while protected by whatever was left of that multi-layer barrier around him. But the question became... who used it?
Assuming Teruo considered to look to see if Arata was actively protecting his creations, he would find the Mage simply looking on with his hands on his pockets; the epitome of a spectator. Truly, there was not even a spike in his reiatsu; no indication of him having taken any actions. Did Ukitake himself create those barriers? Was his Kidō skill, even as an inferior zombie, that great? No, it had to be someone else. Someone who had mastered defensive and healing magic; someone who was, at the very least, at the level of Captain...
But Teruo wouldn't be given the chance to deduce who cast those barriers, for the moment the flames subsided, Kyōraku appeared behind the Captain. Unlike Ukitake, who was receiving some manner of healing, Kyōraku's body was riddled with hideous cuts and tears all along his body; a result of Teruo's corruption taking effect. Yet an emotionless doll like him would feel no pain, he'd keep fighting strong and fast until his body physically couldn't hold itself together. "Irooni. White." his stoic words spoke, slashing the blades down toward a spot on his body covered by the Captain's haori. Given that Kyōraku also wore a haori from his days as a Captain, the effect of his Kageoni would only seem all the stronger.
Almost as if coordinated, the barriers around Ukitake dissipated once Kyōraku went on the offensive. Regardless of how Teruo responded to the Kageoni, Ukitake already began his move toward him. "Hadō sixty-three, Raikōhō." The white-haired Captain aimed both of his blades toward Teruo, shooting off twin bolts of lightning that traveled toward the latter at tremendous speeds. The mage responsible for all of this observed with a satisfying expression, remaining still yet calm and composed. All the same, beside Arata, another shadow was cast against the cliffside he stood near. Someone else was here.
Limit Break[]
Someone was healing his opponents. But who? The deplorable Mage who had summoned them remained motionless. Wasn't motionless casting supposed to be a top-tier skill beyond the capacity of a rank-and-file wizard? Teruo was not able to deliberate upon that issue any longer. When he heard two words uttered in monotone from behind his back suddenly exploded with pain. The black scimitars of copy-Kyōraku cut through his Shunkō, uniform and flesh, releasing a gush of blood into the air. The young Captain stumbled forward, just in time to witness twin lightning bolts approaching him at an alarming rate.
No time to think. No time to prepare. Dancing on the blade's edge, struggling for survival with every passing second. Ignoring the pain, he jutted both of his arms in front of him in a twin jab to intercept the attack. Through the principle of Genkaiten, he sought to strike at the core of the spell to split the currents. There was a clash, and a boom. Hit by Akui before they could hit him, the two bolts of Raikōhō burst into a peculiar web of thin electric currents, scattering in all directions. He succeeded, and his shroud protected him somewhat from the damage they could still cause, although his arms trembled from the recoil.
Was a war of attrition the sensible solution when his opponents could heal? No. Was he able to destroy one of them quickly to prevent said healing? No. Should he give up, then? No. In fact, despite their numbers and skill, his enemies were not as strong as the originals. Diminished power, but a trace of their wit... Puppets. There was no way he would lose to a bunch of puppets led by a nobody with delusions of grandeur. He, the Left Hand of the Soul King. His self-styled executor and a defender of Balance. The situation was dire but there was a glimmer of hope. After all, he did know his opponents.
Teruo somersaulted to obtain some distance. Then, his somewhat enfeebled aura exploded violently, as if someone poured gasoline on the eldritch flames that enveloped his body. The blood on his back evaporated, veins bulged out from his strained muscles, hair stood up when raised by the increased flow of energy. The shredded haori fell apart, consumed by the wailing flames so that it exposed the uniform beneath. That was the cue to begin counter attack. First, Akui swung his right arm to engulf the replica of Shunsui in a wide arc of spiritual energy that extended toward him rapidly. The young Captain spun about his axis to build up momentum, then his armoured left fist burst forth like a meteor.
"Ikkotsu!"
Shunkō, the visible manifestation of his spiritual pressure manifested a large comet-like fist that channeled the crushing blow, shot like a projectile toward the current opponent. Then, Teruo waited for the perfect moment. The world seemed to stand still for what was merely a couple of seconds. And, in the aftermath of the Ikkotsu, Akui pounced upon the replica with great speed. An indistinct blur surrounded the latter for a short while, several afterimages charging at him yet phasing harmlessly through the clone. And only then did the young Captain reveal himself from within that tempest, the claws of his Shikai reaching toward copy-Kyōraku like those of a predatory bird.
"Black!"
It was here that it was made clear why Arata chose to have these two Captains as one of his resurrection sets. Even as corpses, at a fraction of their true might, they still possessed considerable power and their bodies still possessed those honed instincts geared toward battle. Furthermore, when alive, they were capable of significant teamwork; whether now it was due to sharing the same mind as Arata's consciousness or what have you, the two still seemed to work together well. The Captain focused on Kyōraku so heavily in this attempt that Ukitake had ample time to engage him. Beforehand, they fought against this Captain alone, but only now was their teamwork beginning to show itself, even in death.
"Geki." called forth Ukitake, a faint red glow was attempting to overtake the powerful Teruo. Surely, a spell of this level would not be able to stop him, but if anything, it would be able to at least slow his Ikkotsu down. How slowed-down it had become was debatable; nevertheless, it would surely be enough for Kyōraku to deliver a counterattack. As the game was still Irooni, Kyōraku's only tool beyond basic swordsplay was Kidō; he once more called upon Zangerin, sending a vicious attack toward the dampened Ikkotsu, with a force hopefully great enough to at least offset its momentum. In the end, the collision would be catastrophic, even if he did manage to entirely avoid it. Assuming it wasn't enough, Kyōraku had already made sure to garner enough distance to avoid any actual contact.
But then descended Teruo, armed at the ready, having called out the color he desired to cut in the game of Irooni. But Ukitake had already closed the distance, having removed his Captain's haori as soon as he finished casting the Geki. He threw it toward Kyōraku and once more held his hand out, calling forth Geki — not on Teruo, but the jacket itself — causing the coat to stiffen like a board as it levitated in front of Kyoraku like some sort of shield. On its own, the very idea of using this as a defense was absurd, especially against an opponent like Teruo, but the latter was now bound by the rules of Katen Kyōkotsu's Irooni. Now that he called out black, black was all he was allowed to cut. With that understanding, it meant all colors might as well have been invincible, for as long as the game was active, only something black could be cut. Teruo's claws would find their path obstructed by the stiffened white coat and unable to proceed further.
"Black."
Ukitake continued forward after throwing the haori, now disrobed with only the black shihakushō covering his entire body. One hand was focused on the Geki spell, but he could still strike with his left hand, thrusting forward with the hopes of cutting into Teruo. Now, if the attack would reach him or not, it did not matter, for Kyōraku would counterattack the moment Teruo's attention was turned toward Ukitake. Teruo called his color, Ukitake called out a color, and now... it was once more Kyōraku's turn.
"White."
Kyōraku thrust his blades forward, cutting through the same jacket Teruo would previously be unable to penetrate. This slash, now empowered by the Irooni game with the white haori being dragged along by the sword's guard with the attack, continued forward until it would reach Teruo.
The young Captain paid no heed to the large explosion that consumed his ranged Ikkotsu. The opportunity was far too precious to distract himself from the actual target. So that the claws of his Shikai extended toward copy-Kyōraku to pierce his abdomen and rip his entrails out... only to stop as they collided with oddly stiff piece of white cloth. Akui widened his mismatched eyes. Right afterward he turned around, his left hand risen in a guard. Two Zanpakutō clashed; fortunately, there was no black on the brass-coloured gauntlet. Suddenly, the young Captain uttered a short, stifled groan when the third Zanpakutō slashed his back once more. He had little white left on him, although the discarded haori carried by the replica's swords sufficed.
Teruo did not display any obvious signs of fatigue. However, every wound he had received so far, even the minor ones, burned him as if someone impaled him with a red-hot bar of steel. The side effect of his unmastered Shunkō eating away at his own weakness. How long could he keep this up? If not from exhaustion, he would succumb to the pair hacking away at him methodically, sooner or later. Perhaps he could have slain one of them but because of their teamwork... at that moment he realised that both of them were right beside him.
"BLACK!", he roared.
Spiritual energy from his innate reservoir, as well as the considerable amount borrowed from the environment surged through his body in an abrupt spike. The ensuant sensation invoked thousands of tiny, hot needles piercing his skin, muscles and bones. Pain was of no concern, though. Nothing would stop him now, or ever again. Both of his hands folded into tegatana, coated by Shunkō that extended their reach to form veritable energy swords. Akui spun about his axis, the impromptu blades drawing a giant shining disc in the air in an attempt to cleave both of his opponents right there and then. When the motion stopped, he opened both of his palms as they aimed at the two.
"SEIJŌKI!"
Thick streams of eldritch flames erupted from his hands to engulf the clones, illuminating the whole area with their eerie glow. Twinned firestorm that seemed to set the black sky ablaze. And from within the young Captain propelled himself with colossal force. Like a cannonball, he descended toward the Mage of the Coven, his left hand jutting forward, the claws of his Shikai forming the tip of a metaphorical spear aimed right between Arata's eyes.
It was impossible to say if the two deceased Captains were able to do anything about this attack, but all that was visibly seen was both of their bodies completely consumed by the flames of pure aggression as Teruo catapulted himself in the direction of the Mage controlling them. Arata only seemed to revel in his twisted joy as he bore a grin in Teruo's direction. He made no attempt to stop the attack nor to prepare any sort of response. Rather...
Karma[]
Several golden chains seemed to erupt from behind Arata's body, numbering in the hundreds — perhaps even thousands. This was Sajō Sabaku, but this scope... The sheer strength of these chains. There was no way in hell even a mage like Arata could cast something this strong wordlessly and even motionlessly. Yet those chains began to corner Teruo, who was seemingly relying solely on the momentum of his last attack to close the distance. Their intention was simple: to grab onto the Captain and pull him to the ground, like the will of Hell reaching forth to drag down a sinner all the way into its fiery depths. Whoever cast this was obviously preparing this for a good while, perhaps even explaining why nothing tried protecting Kyōraku before and why Ukitake had to utilize such a makeshift tactic to deal with the situation.
The answer revealed itself, as a woman slowly began to walk out from behind Arata's shadow, finally coming into view. The third of the Captain Trio, the first Kenpachi and the one known as Soul Society's greatest healer... Retsu Unohana. Wearing her standard robes, along with the white haori, and that long black hair like that of a witch hanging behind her back with that blatant scar upon her chest clearly visible, she strolled toward Arata's side as she glared up with an emotionless look toward Teruo. Whether or not the chains managed to do their intended duty was irrelevant, for Unohana stalled long enough with that powerful spell to perform the hidden intention. Raising both of her arms up, twin barriers began to appear in the location where the smoldering bodies of Kyōraku and Ukitake were laying after receiving the brunt of that tremendous attack. They were Kaidō, utilizing for healing purposes, as within mere moments both of their bodies had been healed of the majority of their injuries. As all three of them were tied to Arata, the source of their existence as unnatural zombies were linked together, and as such, Unohana might as well had been healing herself at this moment rather than trying to restore the bodies and reiatsu of foreign beings. With her skill, such a task could be done within seconds, and as proof of this claim, both Captains stood back up once more; their stoic glares set on Teruo.
Arata cackled once again. "I've told you already, Shinigami Captain. This is the karma you... No, all of you Shinigami, will have to bear."
"The fear..."
—That statement referenced Unohana having to sacrifice herself to train Zaraki, a necessary act that only came about due to Yamamoto's fear of not teaching him proper Zanjutsu.
"The weakness..."
—Referencing Ukitake having to give his life to protect the King the others could not protect themselves.
"And the arrogance."
—When Kyōraku put his life at risk fighting Nobu Kageyama, bearing the weight of all the world on his shoulders, only to lose at the most critical moment.
"Abandon it all and pay for your sins with your own life!" he howled, as all three of the resurrected Captains rose their reiatsu to its peak, causing a trio of spiritual pillars that pierced through the dark night sky of Hueco Mundo. Such light once represented the luminescence of hope, yet now stood as monoliths of despair.
While unexpected, the writhing mass of golden chains that reached toward Teruo were not enough to intercept him. Just as he could propel himself toward a target, he could do away from it. Ugokinashi, the crude, impetuous cousin of the graceful Shunpo, allowed him to move his body as he wished, when he wished, through brute physical exertion. With a long somersault he positioned himself a few dozen metres from the Mage and his fully unveiled third minion. The memory of yet another veteran Captain sullied at the hands of an arrogant fool.
Normally, one would understandably experience fear in the wake of three such replicas manifesting their immense power at the command of their master. Hope. Despair. Akui knew the latter really well. For a brief moment he recalled a sharp memory: lying within the smoking ruins of his family estate. Bloodied, his uniform torn to shreds. Barely able to move, his armoured hand reaching toward the indistinct visages of the triumphant enemy as they slaughtered most of his family. Because he failed. He should tremble, weep, flee. But he did not. Instead, he smiled, then chuckled. After all, ever since the momentous events from nine years ago, he had not exactly been one of a sound mind.
"What a repugnant little worm you are", he said, not loudly, but his voice could be heard echoing through his spiritual pressure. "Tell me, Mage of the Coven... how much can you sacrifice for the sake of your goal?"
For a short while, there was silence.
"HAAAAAH!", yelled Teruo suddenly at the top of his lungs.
The pulsating flames of his Shunkō erupted into a fiery, electrified tempest, quickly expanding into a veritable pillar of light that reached all the way toward the black sky. The white sand evaporated from beneath his feet, the white deserted quaked perceptibly. But that was only the beginning. From the bottom-most depths of his soul, Akui drew his strength. From his determination, devotion, and the little, if horrible, experience he had accumulated so far. He knew what to do. He had to ignore pain. He was but a weapon of justice and order. All was secondary to his purpose. And for that, to seize one last chance to achieve victory in this hopeless situation, he had to use everything he had got, push himself to the absolute limit if not beyond.
"Bankai!", he rose his clenched, armoured fist toward the sky.
The top of his uniform was obliterated in the storm that ensued, momentarily exposing a peculiar set of nine round scars that marked his torso. Shortly afterward, though, they were covered by a partial set of plate armour that constituted his final release. An additional vambrace, a chest plate with a gorget, a shoulder pad and two protrusions that sprouted from his back. Said protrusions quickly channeled a part of his Shunkō aura into the unmistakeable image of giant wings of light. A large crater formed around the young Captain. Clouds were swept away. The whole area illuminated by the tangerine glow of his power. Tenfold power. The Bankai of a grizzled veteran wielded by an overzealous rookie. Teruo had no right to wield a weapon that powerful - yet he did. And he paid for that dearly.
"Jaaku Jōtei Kyūseishu!", a potent shockwave accompanied the announcement.
The following assault was instant. Three afterimages pounced upon the clones... but all of them vanished soon after phasing harmlessly through their supposed targets. Or two of them, rather, for the one that approached copy-Unohana rapidly scattered into several more. A shower of blows, tens, dozens, hundreds. Pressure point strikes to enfeeble her, cripple her body, paralyse her muscles and shut down the flow of her spiritual energy. Then, a transition into sharp jabs. Hit after hit, more and more, to puncture her skin, rend her flesh, shatter her bones. More, more, a droning blur of attacks, to tear her apart, liquify her, eradicate her, to splatter an unrecongnisable red mass on the white sand. Later, an unending series of punches, each consecutive one impacting with greater force, slightly slower. Booming like lightning bolts, causing spatial ripples to distort the area. Finally, a single vertical swipe of a knifehand coated in condensed Shunkō and the ultimate blow to finish a war's total of blows performed in a couple of seconds.
"Sōkotsu", Teruo projected his fists at the first Kenpachi, the unparalleled healer Retsu Unohana, a respectable officer of the Gotei 13; or, an abhorrent mockery of her.
When it was Kyōraku or Ukitake, such assaults were almost too much even for the real ones to handle, much less these lesser replicas reborn of the originals, yet even this depowered master of the blade would not find herself overwhelmed. On sheer instinct, Unohana swung her blade in response, matching his blows hit for hit, while thrusting and slashing whenever she recognized the slightest of openings in the continuous stream of attacks. Yet, as the final knifehand came crashing down, it collided with her blade with a cracking sound ringing in the air; her sword had begun to sustain damage from that tremendous volley. With Teruo nearing her to end it with the Sōkotsu, Ukitake had already made his way over to her, with his blades swinging down at the Captain's right arm, as Unohana moved in synchronization with the white-haired Captain, per their connection through Arata, using her blade to simultaneously slash at Teruo's left arm. Undoubtedly, his Shunkō would likely protect him from being cut, but that was not their intention, for these two individual yet timed movements were meant to crash the two fists of Sōkotsu into one another by diverting their paths.
Regardless of how Teruo responded, Kyōraku had already made his way behind the distracted Captain, soaring above him as he swung his blades down. "Takaoni."
Unfortunately, the Sōkotsu did not connect. Teruo had forced crushing momentum into the double-punch. Nevertheless, even though he stopped mid-strike, tense as he was, the two blades simply bounced off harmlessly when they struck him. He was ready to fight off the two, although the third one was closing in quickly. With a burst of amplified speed Akui jumped straight into the air, leaving an afterimage behind. Then, in a backward somersault he manoeuvred behind the clone of the late Captain-Commander, transitioning swiftly into a powerful kick to his back.
"Enough games!", the young Captain exclaimed as he delivered the blow. "Sōkotsu!"
With copy-Kyōraku propelled straight into his revenant comrades, Teruo would gather all of the replicas in one place. Exactly what he needed if he wished to emerge victorious from this gruelling battle. His wounds burnt, muscles strained, bones creaked. But not yet, he could handle more than that. Immediately, he withdrew two clenched fists to perform the decisive blow once again. This time around he put everything he had got into the strike. Extended through his electrified, fiery spiritual pressure, it was intended to engulf all three of the undead clones in a blinding inferno. The white sand was vapourised in an instant as the destructive wave swept across a vast area, shaking the ground perceptibly. However, that was not the end.
"Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta! Haaah!"
First, a short barrage of ranged blows. Ultimately, a charged blast of spiritual energy that carved a giant ditch through the white expanse of Hueco Mundo until a large explosion in the distance marked the end of its advance. Teruo flew backward, then landed somewhat heavily. His whole singed body was shaking visibly, muscles twitching and steam emanating from him like from hot springs. The aura of Shunkō was gone. For a moment he gazed at the immense, black scar he had engraved into the colourless surface of the Hollow realm, the flame-like residue of his Reiatsu illuminating it with an orange glow through thick smoke. Then, he turned his head toward Arata. As a trickle of blood flowed from his nose, an eerie grin outstretched on his face.
"I'll make you squeal like a pig", he announced cheerfully, now walking toward the Mage.
She of the Sword[]
Three simultaneous crashes into the sand below were heard, causing massive updrafts from the sheer force as those bodies collided even with such a soft substance as sand. Arata observed with a quiet glare as the three bodies, his Captain Trio, were seemingly defeated as he faced the oncoming Teruo who announced, rather cheerfully, his intentions to finish the fight by killing the Mage. In such a situation, it would have made most already admit defeat, even begging for their life. It was true that in a straight up fight, Arata stood no chance against Teruo, even if only to stall for time.
But there was no need for that.
Arata's brief look of concern was replaced with the very same arrogant and malicious smirk that he displayed the moment he introduced himself to Teruo. As the Captain came closer, a sudden wind began to pick up in the space between them, carrying with it a significant amount of sand as it seemed to blur the vision for both of them to some extent. And when it passed, a lone figure stood between them; it was the resurrected Unohana, her body completely devoid of injury, and to a greater surprise, her eyes were alight with life, as if she returned even more like her original self than when she first came to this battlefield through the Mage's power. She no longer wore the Captain's haori, having just her normal black shihakushō on, along with that raven black hair fluttering in the breeze.
"I will admit... I was hoping not to have to sacrifice such valuable test subjects." Arata mused, gesturing outwards in the direction where the bodies of Ukitake and Kyōraku still lay. It probably wasn't too visible from the distance they stood, but they would at least be able to recognize some key traits: both bodies appeared brown and wrinkled, as if completely dehydrated, like mummified remains. However, even in this state, they did not last long. The corrosive effects from Teruo's abilities before were still working their effects, and before long, those mummified bodies began to dissolve into sheer dust. To most, it wouldn't be obvious what happened, but to an intelligence like Teruo, it would've been simple to deduce. The Mage had, at the last moment prior to the Captain's overwhelming attack, abandoned the majority of Kyōraku and Ukitake's strength, transferring that power to Unohana. While the former two would be unable to do anything to survive that assault, Unohana, now even more powerful than when she was first brought out by Arata, would have found an easier time of it. With all her resurrected strength and Arata's own concentration centered entirely on her, her healing abilities as well as her other prowess was as high as this modified fake could reach.
Holding his hand out, the Mage let out a wicked snicker. "I'll be sure to make you pay for that. I was going to simply kill you here and leave your body to rot among the Hollows, but I think instead, I'll take my time carving your limbs off, ripping the life away bit by bit from your cold torso, and put you back together as I please! It's the least you could do after what you did to my glorious test subjects."
Unohana, holding not only her own Zanpakutō but presumably one of the Zanpakutō blades left behind by one of the previous Captain corpses, held both swords at the ready as she faced Teruo. He would witness the true strength of the first Kenpachi, a woman that devoted herself to the blade, even if it were only a fake.
Akui stopped. Unhurriedly, he assumed an offensive fighting stance. He had already defeated two of the three opponents. He could still fight. But could he win, though? Copy or not, he had to face the remnant of one of the greatest swordsmen in the history of Soul Society. Clearly, that was not the gentle Retsu Unohana he had had a chance to meet a few times. The glint in her eyes spoke murder. Her spiritual pressure oppressive and sharp, as if a blade was pressing against his neck despite the distance. Teruo doubted he could win, but he would definitely fight. Tooth and nail, until the bitter end.
"Last one to...", he said.
Then, he was interrupted by a strange phenomenon that occurred without a warning between him and the enemy. The air contracted in what appeared to be a spatial swirl that released a single person from within its confines. With the portal gone as abruptly as it had manifested the newcomer, clad in a black cloak, faced the replica at the Mage's command. The young Captain blinked a few times. The newcomer was obviously there, although he was unable to detect any trace of Reiatsu.
"Who the Hell are you?", he asked, leaning slightly forward.
The mysterious stranger seemed mildly surprised by that question. There was a short while before he responded.
"I am a Balancer", he decided to say. "You may consider me an ally, Shinigami."
"Don't interfere in my...!"
"You have fought bravely", the man interjected. "But the fate of Soul Society is more important than vengeance. Allow me to end this scuffle."
The unknown warrior began marching toward copy-Unohana, his arms now hanging loosely to the sides of his torso. Teruo motioned forward. Then, a colossal shockwave emanated from the body of the cloaked newcomer. Not a single grain of sand moved, yet the young Captain felt as if submerged in a bottomless ocean. A severe attack of vertigo forced him to kneel. Barely able to lift his head, he gazed at the eerie spectacle in front of him. With his eyes he saw a man walking toward a woman. But his supernatural senses painted a picture of two planets about to collide. Was that an exertion of Reiatsu? What the Hell was going on?
"Yachiru Unohana", the stranger said in a deep voice. "I shall liberate you from this abhorrent vessel."
"What's going on? What's with this newcomer? I can't get a read on this guy."
Arata observed Tōsō with a peculiar look. Even for this Mage, attempting to perceive or even begin to explain the nature of Tōsō's strength was beyond his comprehension. Whether it was because the man standing before Arata was of the Hakuda world, one that the Kidō sorcerers could never hope to grasp, or if his power truly was that titanic in supply, the feeling filled Arata with the sense of both emergence, concern, and most of all, irritation at his inability to understand. For a man of his intellect and pride, to be faced with something escaping his perception only inspired anger and outrage.
"Whatever." the Mage retorted, swinging his hand in the direction of Tōsō. "All the same, be it one insect or two, you'll fall to the might of the Coven. This is a power that can turn even the strongest of you Shinigami into our marionettes. The might of the true way. The way of magic!" Arata announced with a sense of broad pride that was unlike him. Unohana immediately engaged into combat, her sheer speed outstripping anything shown by herself nor the other two resurrected Captains from earlier, closing the distance nigh instantaneously as a result.
Thus began the blade dance, an elegant series of strikes with both blades she wielded in hand. She opened with a simultaneous slash, the left and right blades cleaving across the air like a pair of scissors aiming to tear Tōsō in twain. But it was naught but her opening act. Suddenly, the rhythm changed, swinging one blade up and the other down, pulling the left sword back as the right swung down at a forty-five degree angle. Stepping forward, Unohana jut out the hilt's end, with the hopes of pushing back Tōsō along with whatever resistance he had concocted during the earlier portion of her assault. Shifting her stance, the right sword retreated as the left thrust forward with a riposte.
Utilizing that momentum, she swung her body around in a complete circle, slashing that right blade with a tremendous degree of force. Once more, the rhythm changed, only that right blade now engaging in combat as her style resembled modern fencing. That right blade, the left serving as a means of defense, parried and flailed around in subtle yet meaningful motions in order to wade through Tōsō's guard, like a snake slithering through the many obstacles of its habitat to reach its prey. Yet, the rhythm evolved once again, the subtlety lost as Unohana's slashes maintained their elegance yet their aggressiveness was blatant.
From a style resembling fencing to something closer to classic kendō, the right blade's motions focused on cleaving downwards and upwards, awaiting instances in Tōsō's responses that would allow her to enter a window of opportunity to finish him off. Yet, as she awaited those instances, taking them as she believed they arose, the left blade focused almost entirely on parrying, making side-to-side swings from nearly every conceivable angle to push Tōsō into opening his closed guard, a little at a time, so that she could create that opportune moment herself. But she did not wait long, for only a mere handful of moments, her style changed again. Her guard remained closer to the body, both blades being held parallel to one another, as her strikes were more thrust-heavy, with one blade shadowing the motion of the other in sync, almost as if she were attempting to pierce through Tōsō's guard using both swords in tandem.
All these actions were carried out at a speed beyond mere human perception. For all the intricacies that went into this assault of the blades, no more than a couple seconds at most passed throughout it all. Each strike carried out with an incredible force, enough to tear cliffsides asunder and render the resulting debris unto mere pebbles at best, if not dust.
"The true way...", murmured Tōsō with a hint of disgust in his voice.
But there was no time for him to discuss philosophy and the proper order of things with his enemy. The puppet that bore the likeness of the Hakudaka's old peer attacked almost as viciously as the original would. Almost. Recently, Tōsō had fought two other fellow Founding Captains. Both of them proved formidable opponents that at least matched his own otherworldly might. However, the thing he had to face now was... uncanny.
The moment she pounced upon him the warrior leant forward, his legs wide apart and arms dangling limply. As the two blades converged to cut him in half his torso swung like on a pivot, right beneath the shearing strike. He shuffled to the side to avoid the follow up and deflected the hilt projected toward him with a wave of his wrist. When one the blades threatened to pierce him afterward, his torso rapidly swiveled out of the harm's way. A sweeping slash crashed into his guard with a thunderous noise but dealt no visible damage. Tōsō's arms moved in a flurry, parrying a shower of strikes, always moving where needed owing to his growing attunement to the enemy. Gradually it would become obvious that as debilitating as copy-Unohana's blows were, repeatedly their timing was slightly off, their speed insufficient or their force dispersed. The effects of the shadow of Primordial Chaos cast upon the modern world through the Hakudaka's Reiatsu.
He weathered or outright evaded her relentless strikes, time and again. After all, he was used to dealing with forces that could reshape the landscape within an instant, as well as fully capable of exerting such forces himself. Soon, his body became an indistinct blur, flickering, shifting, sometimes seemingly moving in several different directions at once. Like smoke, ever elusive, remaining forever out of reach even as she grasped directly at him. Then, without a warning, Tōsō made his own move. Invoking the image of a serpent himself through the outlet of Hakuda, he extended both of his arms toward copy-Unohana. Coiling and twisting, they literally proceeded to wrap themselves around the arms of the replica as if he had no bones within them. His fingers, acting as fangs, thrust into her flesh in order to inject the venom of chaotic energies and enervate the limbs. And to immobilise her.
"Bōkyaku."
His power spiked for a split second when he performed his true strike as a knee kick to the gut of the enemy. For that brief moment all of his strength incredibly focused, channeled through the single limb. So much so that there was no shockwave, no earthquake, no gust of wind disturbing the area. Instead, the colossal force converged into a single point with power that saw reality itself shriek in protest. Cracked, the dimensional plane in front of him fell apart into a number of dimensional shards.
Restrained by the serpent-like motions of Tōsō's Hakuda, even the mistress of the blade herself couldn't prevent falling prey to it, finding herself in a delicate position as the man's fingers pierced into her skin in order to further immobilize her through his chaotic powers. But Unohana's face remained stoic and cold, like a sheet of perfect ice layered over the surface of a lake in the apex of winter. This was, after all, a resurrected form of Unohana brought forth by Arata's magic, so she held no emotions to begin with. But a frightening woman such as the first Kenpachi, she was a warrior of terrifying heights, who spent her days learning to heal so she could be injured. She mastered the art of healing so she could fight and enjoy the sheer thrill that came with battle. Those instincts were driven deep into the core of her flesh, her bones — nay, her very soul. The urge to keep fighting, to never allow anything to stop her from enjoying that pleasure, not even her own self!
With a jerking motion, Unohana's torso pulled away from Tōsō. Even with such power forcing her to remain still, one cannot quiet the warrior's heart so easily, not even a fake. Yet Tōsō's grip could not be wrestled away, even with her strength, but that was not her goal. Without a second thought, as if it were natural even... She jerked her body away from Tōsō, and yet when met with the resistance of his grip, both of her arms began to creak and ripple, stretching apart at the seams as blood began splattering at their feet. It was a disgusting sound, flesh tearing from itself, bones tearing away from each other, all the way down to the nerves that connected those arms to the rest of the body. Unohana completely ripped away from the two arms of hers that were held by Tōsō, leaving the latter with those two dismembered limbs that continued to seep blood from the shoulder socket.
In the distance covered by Unohana, now a mere torso without arms, blood hit the ground along with fragments of bone and even torn pieces of muscle and nerves, all littering the ground below them. Even from those open gaps that once housed her arms, disgruntled ligaments and misshapen bone remnants stuck out in full view; a truly horrific sight. Yet even in this painful nightmare of a form she now had, her face remained composed as before, bits of red staining both her raven black hair and her otherwise porcelain and pale face. From this twisted entity that still bore a resemblance to something that could be called human, she uttered but a single word.
"Mina... zuki."
The katana she dropped when her arms were ripped off began to emit a faint green light before vanishing in an erupting of smoke. It swirled around Tōsō for mere moments before rushing over to Unohana's arm-less torso, latching onto her as it began to regain a physical appearance, as if it were melting goo that was shedding off of her bloodied body. It started to shape itself into the form of two monstrous-looking appendages, almost like makeshift arms, as openings began to appear all along the oozing substance, along with sharpened teeth that resembled the mouths of predators. At the very ends of these appendages, what appeared to be the tips of swords started to jut out like fingers. What was once Unohana was now reduced to this eldritch abomination.
Unbeknownst to Tōsō, the released form of Minazuki and Unohana herself had merged in some way, almost like some sort of pseudo-Bankai, with its healing acids working inside her body at an almost constant rate to stave off the effects of Tōsō's own powers while also affording her something similar to regeneration; albeit her torn arms had not returned from the looks of it. Once she took the form of this creature, she started an assault once more, one of an aggressive nature yet with a semblance of her elegant motions still prominent, with those blades that served as makeshift fingers slashing wildly at Tōsō, each coated in powerful stomach acids from Minazuki that, while of a healing nature to Unohana, would likely dissolve Tōsō's own body should they have made contact.
The Hakudaka smirked. What a strange sensation. When was the last time he smiled? Probably more than a millennium ago. After all, he had undergone a profound change only recently. Reconnected his past with the present, so that Kentarō Akiyama could once more shine through the grim disposition of Tōsō. Was he allowed to enjoy battle again? Perhaps, as long as that did not jeopardise the safe future he desired for the world. He was no longer a naive hero wannabe, no misguided villain, nor a crazed agent of Primordial Chaos. Now, he embodied the paradoxical mixture of order and disorder that allowed the current world to exist. He had become a Balancer.
He did not drop his guard, though. For the price of her arms the shadow of Yachiru Unohana had escaped from his clutches before the crushing blow had a chance to connect. Then, she had assumed a truly monstrous form to attack with equally monstrous ferocity. In response Tōsō let the energies of chaos to surge through his body, so that a faint aura of red-violet tint enveloped him. He allowed the flow to course through him freely but only within the confines he consciously established. Absolute control of the uncontrollable. The perfect balance. Order and disorder working together. Again, he began a bizarre dance as he let the strikes of the enemy to dictate the pace of his evasive manoeuvres. Unreachable.
No vicious charges. No collateral damage. No innocent victims. Focus. Careful footing. Controlled exertions of power. The wild unpredictability of chaos expressed within the ordered framework of a deliberate approach. The venomous steel talons swung and thrusted at him, time and again, unable to graze him. Even though he seemed to be gradually pushed back, withdrawing step after step from the ferocious onslaught, Tōsō observed the enemy attentively. Through the prism of his martial spirit he discerned the attack patterns, peculiarities of the shadow's fusion with its Zanpakutō, as well as some sort of sinister affliction eating away at her even as she continued to heal her physical form. The ability of the young Captain, no doubt.
Focus, yet seemingly uncoordinated moves. The goal was crystal clear while the pursuit erratic. Tōsō was like a river. The stream proceeded along an intricate network of meandering paths, a veritable web of exploding possibilities and sudden dead ends intersecting with each other. Choosing turns at random but steadily progressing toward the objective. He did not wait for an opportunity nor did he attempt to create one. As the flow guided him so he acted. So, without a warning, he did not evade this time around. Rather, he swiped to the side in a devastating knifehand strike, aiming at a weak spot upon the borrowed blade wielded by his enemy. At the same time a mirrored strike targeted the other steel talon, likewise. Then, a volley of jabs performed by both of his hands, stinging like a swarm of hornets, to overwhelm the healing powers of Minazuki with the poisonous chaos of Yugamiken. Ultimately, an eruption of energy coated Tōsō's left arm in an electrified swirl. Like a spear, extended in a piercing blow that unleashed the immense energy in the form of a momentary vortex so as to eradicate the shadow of Unohana right there and then.
"Tch..."
Arata watched on as the resurrected and monstrous Unohana fended off Tōsō's passionate strikes, yet even with the remnants of her skill as the first Kenpachi, she was losing in the overall situation. As those attacks landed, more of Unohana's body was ripping away, flesh and bone scattering in the winds as those missing aspects were filled in the oozing substance that as Minazuki. The Zanpakutō normally took on a regal figure, a noble creature that glided through the air, but with its master nothing more than a mindless puppet twisted solely to kill, it was nothing more than a means to an end, and its existence now reflected its purpose.
"This is becoming a nuisance. She is perhaps one of the my most valuable creations..." Arata pondered, even to the point where he was beginning to sweat, seeing this entire battle now as an untenable situation; a losing battle. "Is retreat even viable? I would be a laughing stock if I were to escape like a rat with my tail between my legs. Yet... To accept the dishonor of defeat and allow my creations to be destroyed by this filthy Shinigami...?! I cannot accept that." he thought, tightening his fists.
As Tōsō's final attack came forth, smashing into whatever was left of Unohana's body, a massive explosion overtook the battlefield. In its wake, the former Kenpachi was nothing but an amorphous blob with her only remaining humanoid feature being her head along with the black hair that fluttered about. It was something out of a child's nightmares, with the image only becoming more gruesome as disfigured blades began to jut out from the open mouths that ran all along the oozing form of Minazuki, turning her entire body into a weapon, as she dashed forward at surprisingly blinding speeds, aiming to use everything she now was to run right through Tōsō.
"You tread the path of self-righteous delusion", the Hakudaka spoke before that one final charge, addressing the Mage. "I fear your Coven not, for I know where that path leads."
Amusing. Initially, he was both bewildered and infuriated by Seireitō Kawahiru's decision not to involve himself in this conflict. Truth be told, however, their encounter had a profound influence on Tōsō. After all, the former helped immensely to set him back on the right path. Perhaps that was his single, if crucial, contribution toward saving the world from yet another brazen tyrant. The reborn Kentarō Akiyama would make sure to employ the ensuant newfound power to fight for the cause in his stead, as a form of gratitude. For bringing a glimmer of hope to the pitch black abyss that had imprisoned him for a thousand years.
Nevertheless, there were some more pressing matters to address at present. The shadow of the first Kenpachi, now a truly pitiful, grotesque display, pounced upon him with the ferocity of a wild animal. So unsightly. Tōsō decided he could test his potential another time. As far as this battle was concerned, he intended to terminate that detestable creature to honour the memory of a fallen colleague. As she was approaching him, he assumed a proper fighting stance. Then, he lunged at her, propelling himself into the air by pushing himself off the ground with his back foot all the while performing a heavy blow to benefit from the momentum. Ripples of distorted space formed distinct rings about his arm as it moved forward, sharing the red-violet hue of his spiritual pressure.
"Hah!"
The punch was delivered. Not just an example of tremendous physical strength but also an exertion of spiritual power and unwavering resolve, all united to magnify its potential severalfold. Reality shrieked once more, and from the point of impact peculiar cracks spread abruptly. Shards of broken dimensional plane scattered in every direction, the veil of lies shattered to reveal the ugly truth beneath. Multiple ripples, like on the surface of water, deformed the spatiotemporal fabric ere it was able to restore itself to a natural state.
If this were the original Unohana, it would perhaps have been more of a fair fight. One where both would have fought with their mind, bodies — their souls — on the line as they risked it all for the sake of the battle. To the true warrior, the consideration of the world and its fate bears no consequence, for the only thing that matters in that moment is victory or defeat; life or death. Yet this Kenpachi was naught but a mere puppet, tied to the strings called necromancy, and its grand architect was the despicable Mage that sought the end of the Shinigami's reign. Tōsō, who bore not only the weight of his raison d'être, but wielded in his fists the pride of a martial artist, defeat against this marionette was unacceptable. But the Mage would not make it easy for him, with this monstrous construct still known as Unohana rampaged forth with the hopes of crushing Tōsō with whatever she had left in her body.
"To have such trouble with an enemy like this, I don't remember having fought with such a pitiful martial artist!"
If that man were here, no doubt he would have spoken those words to Tōsō. And if that fight against the Shiroyasha still rung within Tōsō's thoughts during this battle, the conviction he acquired from that encounter would carry his fist through, weathering all the evil that came from the Coven. That fist struck through, with however many blades attempting to pierce through Tōsō in the process, and once the eruption of force was carried through, the entirety of Minazuki began to tear asunder in a magnificent rain of blood and flesh that splattered all over the desert sands. The only recognizable body part was Unohana's in-tact head as it collided with the ground, unable to defend itself from any further assault.
But at the moment Unohana's dismembered head landed to the ground, crimson red leaking from its open neck cavity, a small barrier erected around it to shield it from an attack. Arata arrived mere moments at its side as he reached down to pick it up in his arms, his once-cocky expression replaced with one that could best be described as one writhing in pure rage, his mashing teeth clearly visible as he glared at Tōsō. "If you think this is the end, you're mistaken!" A black barrier appeared at Arata's feet as he slowly began to seep through it, as if he were falling through quicksand, disappearing bit by bit as his eyes were still dead set on Tōsō and also on Teruo.
"Relish this victory while you can. I'll finish the job the next time... And whatever conviction or hope or passion you Shinigami still cling to, all you'll have left then is misery!" That very same rage-filled expression broke out in a subtle yet chilling laughter that fully emitted the madness behind the composure that was Arata Kogo. Thrusting his hand out, he extended his index finger for Tōsō. "Those hope-filled eyes... I will enjoy watching them drown in despair." His final words as the entirety of his form disappeared in the wisps of darkness that composed the void, as the portal itself closed soon after, preventing either of them from giving chase.
Unlikely Reunion[]
Tōsō merely acknowledged the Mage's words, observing his retreat in calm silence. Meanwhile, Teruo still struggled to process the most recents events. So much confusion had happened within such a short timeframe. He was so young for a Soul, especially a Shinigami Captain, yet already plunged into the incomprehensible abyss of old, powerful factions and their world-changing conflicts. He stumbled forward, overexerted, but paid no heed to the pain.
What a pity. Yachiru, or rather Retsu Unohana was one of the precious few Founding Captains who remained at her post throughout the ages. She stayed in order to fulfil her duty. More than that, she had changed drastically from her once monstrous ways to serve as a paragon of peace and justice. Just like the encounters with the other two former colleagues, Tōsō could have learnt so much if he had actually met her. But all he could do instead was to cripple a repugnant shadow of her, the sullied memory of a heroine who had sacrificed herself to protect Soul Society.
"I did not ask for help", blurted Teruo, unsure what to say but uncomfortable with the sudden silence.
The man who had introduced himself as a Balancer turned to him unhurriedly, then began approaching him. Tension returned to Akui's muscles yet his conviction wavered. Was that truly an ally, or a hidden enemy? Someone neutral? And his power, so vast. It had taken a while for the young Captain to realise its scope. It was there, possible to perceive, but so tremendous, so all-encompassing, as if he were submerged in an ocean, that so close to its source he had been unable to discern it for what it was. Astonishing.
"Such is fate", replied Tōsō. "We share a common enemy and a common goal so, in dire situation like that, it is only natural for us to cooperate."
"Who the Hell are you?", the young Captain repeated his earlier question.
"People call me Tōsō, for what I represent", was the response after a moment's hesitation.
"I'm Third Division Captain, Teruo Akui", the Shinigami returned the favour.
And then, abruptly, Tōsō felt like an icicle was thrust into his brain. When he heard the family name the gate to his past was opened, drowning his consciousness in a deluge of old memories. He gazed at the man in stunned silence. At his spiky dark hair, mismatched eyes one of each was hazel, his stature and complexion. The uncanny familiarity of his spiritual pressure, even the way his special ability functioned. Impossible. That was impossible, but also not at all.
Because once upon a time, Kentarō Akiyama and Hitomi Akui had an affair...