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Stray Cat Strut

Home Ground Arc

three-two: Hook, Line and Sinker (part two)

produced by
Two Greedy Losers Without A Fairy
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The first level of shunpo is just the basic point A to point B flash step. Nothing 'fancy', if you don't count the nearly instant movement along said path. Key-point being 'nearly'. There are varying degrees of 'nearly', depending on the degree of power you put into the technique.

And Ichigo had a shitload of power crackling at his fingertips there and then, agitated and wanting to be used.

It was like standing still while the world blurred around and
underneath you.

The second level is mostly in the mind. Accelerated perception. It's what you need to change your 'step' on the fly, though that's only possible to a limited extent. It also comes with a speed increase, as the only thing that limits your first level if you theoretically should be able to go even faster is your reiatsu's response to not enough situational awareness to go with that sort of velocity.

For Ichigo, the world turned into a soundless, washed out image of razor edges and faded colors, where the only noise was the crackle of power at his heels and the steady, nearly deafening reverb of his heart beating in his chest.

Skim a rooftop.

Slide across a window ten stories up.

Launch yourself parallel to the ground and come down running, jerked into seemingly slowed motion as the flash step fades and your overaccelerated mind already has another.

All the while, the ribbon hummed in his hand.

Still alive.

And then time stopped. Not because of shunpo, or another similar
technique.

A moment stretched into infinity as Ichigo hung, suspended in mid-air, eyes traveling along the ribbon and slightly to the side.

Huge. Covered in thick, ugly brown fur. Thick arms, stubby legs, and a death's head grin of the leering white bone-mask inching forward to bite down.

Time resumed its course.

The third level of shunpo is _not_ letting yourself fall back into the
molasses of normal movement to prepare another flash step. Among the users, it's simply known as 'chaining' steps, as you would when walking normally.

Ichigo wasn't quite there yet, but for one brief instant, Reality
forgot about that piddling little detail.

*

"...ANGWAY, COMING THROUGH!"

Watanuki blinked as the leering white 'face' of ... whatever the hell this thing was ... was replaced by a black t-shirt with some sort of weird playing card design.

That was a moment before his senses were assailed by vertigo and his eyes registered little more than blurs.

His ass hit the ground.

The teeth that had been about to chomp down on him bit down ... on
concrete, ripping a hole as big around as his torso in the pavement.

The smell was still there, and still as oppressive, but it was joined by overtones of ozone and hot metal.

He looked to the side and up.

The boy didn't look any older than him, but he _was_ taller, with spiky hair so ridiculous it just _had_ to have been bleached out and matching that with wearing mostly orange-trimmed black. And that weird card mirrored on his back made his eyes hurt for some reason.

"Yeah, normally I'd stop and say 'hey'," the bleach-haired guy started, eyes fixed on the thing that had been about to turn Watanuki into so much red meat. "But, and this is important so listen up man: this is where you _run like hell_."

It was such a convincing argument that Watanuki didn't argue even once, and even as the first drops of a rainfall that had been brewing since that morning came down, he didn't stop running.

*

One day, he was just gone.

No grinning face showing up at school.

No inane cheerfulness, even when losing.

No goodbyes, no explanations.

Nothing.

Just ... didn't show up.

She was concerned. Maybe even worried. Well, no. At first, she'd just been mad at being ditched. Then she became worried that something had happened.

Something had.

Not to him, no. But ... it was as if he'd died then, in a way.

It was a month before he showed up at school, and in a sense, he _had_ died. Or just ... changed. It wasn't really obvious to her at first, and she wasn't one for the sappy stuff, so she just assumed he was still working his way through the bad stuff.

She'd been wrong, not that she knew at that point.

Another two months, and he was back at the dojo. In all the years they'd known one-another, she'd always been just a step further along, just that much better ...

The first hint of that it wouldn't necessarily always be the case, she got right there and then.

He hadn't laid her out. But he hadn't cried either, getting up every time she made him hit the mat without as much as a grunt of pain.

But neither had he smiled in that carefree way of his.

Two weeks later, and she'd been staring up in disbelief. Up, because she was flat on her back, her breath gone, and her ears ringing.

Not that he was much better off, but he was standing. And grinning. But it was more like one of the expressions she found herself wearing on occasion, when looking into the mirror.

Tatsuki fell out of shunpo as the rainfall started, on the edge of a low rooftop some three or so stories up, an onlooker to the tableau below.

But only for a moment.

They'd come across Hollows before, sometimes even deliberately, but
none had had the presence of this one, both in sheer stature and to her other senses.

And it was, in a way, the oddest one she'd seen to date as well. The bulky body, skull-like mask, and exaggerated proportions were pretty much par for the course ... the 'extension' that came from its head, just behind the mask, and trailed for a while before terminating in _another_, smaller, body that felt far less _obvious_ and almost, almost _normal_ to her spiritual sensitivity, was definitely new.

The purpose, though, was as clear as it was ridiculous at first glance.

'Grand Fisher? Fits that it'd have a lure of sorts.'

And she'd never, _ever_ felt Ichigo's reiatsu this ... this ANGRY
before.

She slid her hands into the pockets of her vest, withdrawing and
snapping straight a pair of ofuda, before gathering herself and launching forward, though the falling rain.

*

"_Interruptions_."

The smaller body spoke, as the larger one lifted its head from where it'd bitten down on pavement.

Just a drizzle, but the rolling clouds were still there, and still
looking as angry as he felt. It'd get worse before it got better.

'How fucking nostalgic,' Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

"I absolutely _loathe_ interruptions," it hissed venomously. "Almost as much as I loathe Shinigami ..."

What followed ... to the part of Ichigo that wasn't busy being on guard it looked like the smaller, and oh so very _familiar_ body - the body that had almost lured a nine-years old Kurosaki Ichigo to death, just like it would have the guy he'd pulled away not a minute before, if it hadn't been for his mother's intervention - being sucked into the back of the larger one's neck via their connection, leaving behind a dangling shape as if in a caricature of a doll.

"... but you don't smell like a Shinigami. Almost, almost, but not
quite ... so much the better. That one ... I can tell, he wouldn't have been as good. Not that I won't get to find out, after all ..."

"... Bakuda #4: Hainawa!"

Familiar reiatsu flared from above, and the hollow moved, leaping out of the way of the Binding Art as it burned its way though the air.

The _second_ ofuda struck almost dead on, discharging its charge in the pattern that had been meticulously calligraphed into the material, making Grand Fisher stumble out of its dodge and struggle against faint but nonetheless real bonds.

"Quit standing there like an idiot and hit it already!" Tatsuki cried, coming down on the low wall that ran along one side of that section of the sidewalk.

Ichigo shot forward, snapping into the surreality shunpo threw his senses into these days, traversing the distance in less than an eyeblink. He fell out of the flash step with a straight kick that knocked one of the Hollow's powerful arms, already moving into a struggling block, out of alignment.

'Yoruichi ... dangerous, you said,' and he trusted her, most than he did himself at times. At least, when it came to evaluating things in relation to battle. 'So I'll just finish it quickly!'

"Ye Lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man!" He came down in a crouch, rolling back to dodge a swipe that, had it not been slowed by Tatsuki's earlier Kido, would have slammed into his midsection. Up went one hand, braced by the second, reiatsu flaring at full power and being shaped, molded ... "Inferno and pandemonium! The sea barrier surges! March on to the south!"

Unleashed.

"Hado #31: Shakkaho!"

He hadn't learned many Kido in these past years, being more focused on Hakuda and Hoho - they mostly took too long to use, when you could instead spend the time in pounding your target to a pulp - but of what he did know that one was the most powerful. Tatsuki had provided the opener that let him use it in the first place, though.

And if there was one thing that was, sometimes, more important than striking fast, it was striking hard. As hard as possible.

The Hado was unstable, too much reiatsu forced into the pattern ... but then, at this range, that sort of thing didn't matter.

What mattered was that it picked the hollow up, burning and searing its way through, and exploded out the creature's 'shoulder'.

It also sent Ichigo flying backwards, making him tumble and roll to an awkward stop against the wall, two dozen or so feet away.

"Heh ..."

The hollow stirred.

"Hehehe ..."

It twitched.

"Not one. Not one ..."

It rose, propping itself up, the 'fur' along its body rolling in as
chaotic a mess as the clouds above them.

"... but _two_! Two such delicious treats, and they've come all of
their own accord! Such luck! Tonight ... tonight looks to be turning into a banquet, and all that, just for me! Thank you so very much ..."

The fur surged, 'boiling' outwards over where the blown-away limb had been, twisting together with a wet sound that didn't necessarily come from the rain and a surge of the reiatsu that twisted Ichigo's guts.

"... MORSELS!"

An arm surged, uninjured and dripping with some sort of mucus, from the mess.

"A regenerator ..." Tatsuki hissed from her perch.

Ichigo ...

"Fuck," Ichigo snarled, pulling his reiatsu back into focus. "To hell with that! We'll just rip the bastard apart until there's nothing there to regenerate _from_!"

Above it all, thunder rolled.

*

Tatsuki went flying, though mostly on her own accord, as debris
showered upwards to meet her. It didn't quite manage.

Tough.

The bastard was likely the toughest thing she'd ever seen or tried to take on, and that was _counting_ Ichigo.

Not as fast as she was, but damn her if everything they were throwing at it didn't seem to not phase the Hollow in the slightest.

Ichi's initial Hado opener had, sure, but Grand Fisher wasn't just
thick-skinned - it could think on its feet as well. And had experience in _fighting_ faster opponents, which, really, she should have damn well expected considering that it had killed actual Shinigami in combat before.

One would think they'd have the advantage in a moving fight, but that also meant positioning they could have used to knock down its guard just wasn't available.

As it was, the best they could do was chip away at it with hit and run tactics, and it wasn't like she had ofuda to waste here either.

The rain wasn't helping either. Hell, if it hadn't been for Yoruichi's insistence that they learn how to work through it on one equally soggy afternoon, their shunpo would have been shot to hell by it.

Running into anything at that sort of speed unprepared was bad; if you got right down to it, working through _air_ resistance itself took a while to get used to.

Shunpo in the rain?

Running into bits of gravel suspended in mid-air was the best way she knew how to describe the sensation.

Not that they had the option of _not_ using it. Against this one, it was their most important edge.

One that, at the moment, was cutting into them only slightly less than it was cutting into their foe.

Ichigo came in low, nearly hugging the ground, shedding raindrops all the way as he shot towards Grand Fisher in hope of catching the Hollow while one of its arms was still stuck in concrete ...

... and that damnable hair launched outwards from the monster's bulk, bludgeoning him aside.

Tatsuki rebounded from a lightpost, coming in just as the actual arm - _did_ this thing have actual arms or were they all just constructs? - ripped free. The shunpo-accelerated dropkick hit, but only a glancing blow, with only enough actual force not slipping off the presented awkward angle of the bone-masked head to knock Grand Fisher back without dealing serious injury.

The Hollow's _other_ arm came sweeping in, claws at the fingertips
glinting, before Ichigo came out of shunpo underneath it, grabbing hold and bracing himself against the ground.

Grand Fisher howled in frustration, even as its hair shot outwards, not in any shape this time, and not intending to bludgeon, but rather wrapping around her blond friend's arms and then torso in an attempt to smother or strangle ...

... her hand flashed outwards, ofuda snapping straight and reiatsu
flaring ... which was when Ichigo yelled, actually managing to yank the Hollow off its feet with sheer brute strength, and more than a little help through superior leverage and still relentless grip on one of its arms.

Dispassionately, she noted that she'd done something similar to _him_ a few weeks ago, so if he was doing what she thought he was doing ...

... her assumption proved correct a moment later, when the Hollow all but flipped through the air, one arm still ridiculously extended and anchoring its disproportionately large bulk to the comparatively small form of Ichigo as the blond, still yelling, _powered_ it into the pavement with all the considerable strength at his disposal behind the move.

And Grand Fisher _splashed_, the bulk of it going nearly flat against the ground even as the force of impact made the alarm of a solitary car standing nearby go off in a cacophony.

One that was soon overpowered by the crackle-boom of lightning
striking somewhere nearby.

She moved on instinct, because she wouldn't have believed her eyes, had she consciously seen it, as the absurdly large mass of suddenly
boneless and limbless filthy brown hair sprouted the mask that _should_ have been buried in concrete from its 'top', the grin shooting towards a panting Ichigo.

The ofuda smacked right into its forehead, followed promptly by a flash of reiatsu discharge and sudden sluggishness to the Hollow's actions.

This time, the following kick was straight on, her heel right on the forehead of the Hollow's mask, and she grinned savagely as she felt it give way ... which changed in a split-second with the realization that the mask was retreating, sinking into the rolling mass of hair.

Without thinking, without considering, she snapped a hand backwards, found purchase, and suddenly reversed direction completely, coming to a halt with Ichigo half a dozen meters away, with her hand still firmly clamped around his wrist.

A wrist slick with more than just rainwater.

Thin, shallow, but ... along his forearms, up on the arms, through the minute tears in his shirt and even a few on his face.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, watch the hair," Ichigo winced. "It ain't quite razor-sharp, but still pretty damn annoying."

*

Deer in the headlights.

She had never understood that expression.

To her, it was a little silly.

Why LOOK at something that was coming to hurt, or even kill you when you could run?

It was ... well, ridiculous.

When you're afraid, run.

That's what she'd thought.

Until now.

The air was heavy.

There was no other word to describe it. It felt as if some giant weight pressed on her whole body without crushing her.

'This is ... this ... insane ...!'

Karakura Town. A district of Tokyo. A point of no significant interest, really.

That's how Grandma had described it. Minor job. Just a minor job.

So minor that even she was supposed to be able to do it.

She got it. She wasn't angry. They might be twins, but between her and Subaru, her brother had inherited the true power, one befitting the Sumeragi heir.

The most powerful onmyouji clan in Japan.

And Subaru could just be the most powerful Sumeragi in history.

Some joked that he inherited the power for the both of them.

She didn't mind. Really, she didn't.

However, the Heir and the true onmyouji Subaru might have been ... But that didn't mean she was without power. Not really. She just had less of it. But she WAS a Sumeragi. She grew up with things other people thought to be fairytale. Spells, ghosts, spirits, magic ... That was her life growing up.

Sure she was more 'down to earth'. Somebody HAD to be, really. Subaru was sweet kid, a great brother and powerful as all get out ... but when it came to taking care of himself he was a complete and utter loss. He'd probably forget to eat if she wasn't around.

And wear the same clothes for days on end. Or weeks. Just washing them and then putting them on again. Fashion ...? Please.

So, she took care of him. Cooked for him. Kept him anchored to ordinary, everyday life.

But as much as it might seem otherwise, she was also the Sumeragi onmyouji. Less power, yes. Less skill? Undoubtedly. But She was probably better than a good ninety percent of the onmyouji out there. Sumeragi blood and growing up in her household ... Well, there was no way for it to be otherwise, really.

And Subaru couldn't be in several places at once.

So, why not? Easy, fun - and some spending money from the payout.

'Easy ...?'

She fell to her knees, dazed, almost choking.

The spiritual power was overwhelming to her well attuned senses.

'In...sane....'

It was all insane.

The boy with the glasses ... She'd followed him. A whim, really. She saw him on the train and his aura was just ... weird. There was power there but ... Odd. Unlike anything she had seen before. Raw. untrained. But potent.

And then that ... thing appeared.

She didn't understand at first. The stench had almost made her throw up.

It took a moment to fight off the nausea and by then ... it was too late.

Hollow.

She had never seen one. But she had heard the stories. Souls that stayed too long, that lingered beyond their time. Souls that turned into monsters, hunting humans with glee.

Never in her life had she imagined she'd come against something like it.

She wanted to run. To close her eyes and run, not looking back.

She was no coward but ... she wasn't her brother either. And even he would have problems.

A Hollow!

It was insane! What was a monster like that doing here?!

But she couldn't run. She was a Sumeragi. It was her duty to protect people from things like that.

Her things were shaking as she reached into her coat, to pull out one of the ofuda she'd made before coming here. She rarely carried any, but since this was a job ...

Then ... the air stood still.

And power ... exploded.

It was like a shockwave going through her senses. But it wasn't like the Hollow's. It was pure. Potent. Insanely powerful. And angry. Very, very angry.

It was a boy. Just ... a boy. Hair so bleached it was nearly orange. Tall for his age, lean and well built in simple pants and shirt. Shirt ... no. It wasn't simple. One might think that at first glance, but ... There was a card on it. A tarot card, one of the high arcana, The Fool, both on his back and on the front.

It drew her eyes like a magnet. It seemed normal enough, but even as he stood still, after knocking down that Hollow, the card seemed to move. Nothing overt but ... As if it were a thing alive. As if were responding to the boy's spirit.

And that spirit was power incarnate.

Pure, unadulterated power.

She could scarcely believe it was human.

There were words said, words spoken but her dazed ears couldn't quite catch them.

And then the air...

... shifted.

An ofuda, but one stranger than any ofuda she had ever seen in her life, flew, striking the beast.

The power spiked.

Somebody screamed.

And the boy just ...

... vanished.

And the level of ambient power she was getting used to choked her once again, striking like a hammer behind her eyes.

Blink of an eye. Less.

The kick that he sent at that Hollow ... she was sure that it could have ripped concrete apart. Just a kick.

'This level of power ... Insane ... never seen anything like this...'

The boy radiated power, casually threw around more than most onmyouji would be able to harness in a week. It was rough. It was coarse. But potent. Controlled. And unstoppable.

And then ... Then, when she thought she had seen the limit ... He chanted.

She didn't hear the words. Only her own blood pumping in her ears as the pulse of the power twisted in his hand violently, visible almost to the naked eye.

This outrageous, violent power. One that kept hammering her senses, already working overtime to keep up with the released energy.

"Hado #31: Shakkaho!"

It was as if the world stopped.

As if the time stopped flowing.

Just power. Power. Power. Power.

Power screaming.

Power twisting.

Burning.

Crushing.

Raging.

'So... much... What... is...'

She fell down, slipping onto unconsciousness, only managing to see a girl in some multi pocketed vest charging another ofuda as she appeared near the Hollow.

'Who...can...?'

Sumeragi Hokuto fainted, her senses finally overwhelmed.

*

Okay, so maybe more than just 'annoying'.

He stung, pretty much all _over_ his arms and shoulders, and some on the back, but it wasn't too bad. He'd managed to flare his reiatsu in time, so they weren't much more than bad papercuts.

But damn if they hadn't chased, pummeled, been thrown around by, and so on the Hollow over a few kilometers by now.

Made him sort of glad for the storm and rainfall, since it meant that there hadn't been anyone in the streets who could have gotten in the way and had something bad happen to them as a result.

Small comfort that they'd managed to somewhat herd the Hollow outwards and away from the more populated sections.

Shit, they weren't making any headway here. Not really. They both knew it, and what's worse, the Hollow knew it too. But, and it was an important 'but', Grand Fisher wasn't either.

Unless something shifted the scales, it'd come down to who could last longer, and that was always an iffy proposition ...

"Hoooo, this is so _nostalgic_, isn't is, Kurosaki Ichigo-kun?" The
Hollow grinned ... well, grinned _more_ ... making him startle and wince at the pain in his side.

Okay, so maybe he hadn't come away as well as he'd have liked Tatsuki to believe, but the gashes weren't too serious either. That ... wasn't exactly foremost in his mind right there and then though.

"So, you remember then, bastard?" Ichigo snarled.

"Hehe, not really, no ..." the mask leered, and a clawed hand emerged from all the hair, glinting crimson in the flagging light of a distant lightningbolt for a moment, before Grand Fisher's tongue snaked out and licked the blood off . "After all, it wasn't something even remotely important. But these claws of mine, they have a property ... When they injured you, I saw it in your mind. It's really quite something. Very useful, especially against ones who would fight with such ... passion. After all ..."

The 'lure', having been dangling uselessly ever since the start of the fight, suddenly animated, moving out and forward like a striking snake
...

... only to baloon outwards, twisting into form.

Human form.

A very familiar human form.

"... the one person you would not strike, against whom your passion
will make you _useless_, youngling ..."

Kurosaki Masaki.

"... makes for such a _nice_ shield."

His mother.

*

"Ohshit," Tatsuki hissed in surprise, almost turning to Ichigo ...
before she felt it.

She wasn't the only one.

The Hollow's mask wasn't really capable of assuming an expression far removed from the one it was mostly set in, but the eyes of the fake Masaki went wide.

The air exploded.

Almost literally.

Raindrops shot off in all directions, with the only thing in common
being that they were going _away_ from the reiatsu flare that Ichigo had just let loose.

"No! Ichi, you ...!"

Shunpo.

Full speed.

Right.

Through.

The.

Rain.

For a moment, the air smelled of copper.

For a moment, both Tatsuki and the Hollow watched, one in disbelief, the other in pure, uncomprehending denial of what was happening, as the blond buried a knife-hand in the middle of the 'lure's' chest.

"... Ichigo? Why?" 'Masaki' choked out.

The pulse was wild, uncontrolled, and _almost_ unformed, only barely resembling a Hado ... which didn't matter, as it exploded _within_ it's target.

Grand Fisher howled.

And Ichigo didn't _stop_, blurring through the bloody mist that
remained of the simulacrum, half-ducking, half-deflecting a spike of hair from the Hollow's main body before grabbing it and _ripping_ it away.

He slammed into the Hollow, sending them both into the corpse of trees and the small park near the edge of the district.

"Idiot!" Tatsuki yelled, running, sprinting, jumping to follow.
"Damnit! Don't you dare get yourself killed, Ichigo! Don't you dare!"

*

He thought he'd been angry before.

He thought finding out what happened on that day, more than three
years ago, had shown him the depth of that anger.

He thought wrong.

It wasn't the sort he was used to, and not the sort he'd felt before, though. He was completely and utterly rational.

He wasn't shaking.

He wasn't forcing himself into a calm mindset.

He just was.

But with every single _shred_ of his being focused on obliterating the _abomination_ that would befoul his memory of his mother like that.

In a mess of sawdust, wood-chips, shredded leaves, Grand Fisher's
'hair' and his own blood, they shot into the air.

Heart pounding in his ears in an ages old, vicious rhythm, hands ripping and tearing, feet kicking, head slamming into the Hollow mask even as his foe tried to do to him what he was attempting to do to it ...

They came apart in the crack of concrete and the screech of bending metal, tumbling to the once-again paved ground, and Ichigo rolled.

Motion.

No matter what happens. No matter how injured you are.

Always.

Stay.

Moving.

Life is strength.

Motion is life.

'Whatever you do, kid, don't fucking _die_.' The Yoruichi in his head hissed.

He hauled himself upwards, ignoring the shooting pain of lacerations and cuts. His clothes were pretty much totaled, and judging from the assortment of pains shooting through him he wouldn't be feeling fine in the morning with just two aspirins this time around.

Fuck that.

He braced himself against the bent metal railing, lifting his head ...

Lightning flashed.

The rain came down.

In the distance, the sound of a train passing on a bridge.

Below, water on water, as the river rushes and the rain splatters into it.

He knew this place.

Remembered it.

Vividly.

Always.

"So angry ... and dangerous. You're hot headed, morsel. The first one that didn't work on," Grand Fisher loomed above him, suddenly, and without warning. "Then I'll just end this quickly ..."

They moved.

Ichigo ... not quite quickly enough.

The bone-jaws came closer, inevitably even in the washed out, sharp
angled world he was seeing as it inched forward, a split-second at a time.

And there was light.

And there was sound.

And, by Kami, there was _thunder_.

The Hollow's mask, rather than its teeth, slammed into him then, in
that right awful cacophony of sensation.

The force of it picked him up.

Threw him away.

Over the railing, and tumbling down along the rocky slope of the
river-bank.

Deja-vu, but for the Hollow screaming in unmistakable pain.

His back hit stone, but he rolled with it, through the gravel and
almost to the water's edge before he bled off the momentum, still ending up flat on said back.

Silhouetted in the fading light of day, before and above him, still on the road that ran alongside the river, at almost the _same_ damn spot which had led him to the ill-fated decision of years past, Grand Fisher reared, screaming.

Smoking.

The _stench_ of burned hair, flesh, and expanded reiatsu was nearly
overwhelming.

It was missing half its torso, and none of it was healing. Or, not as rapidly as it had before.

Considering the detonation ... shit, whatever it was Tatsuki had done - it was unmistakably _her_ reiatsu lingering in the air - it had been crazily powerful. Felt like more than her whole reserve had gone into that ... he didn't want to wonder about what that could mean.

The Hollow, still screaming, twisted away from the river, starting to shamble away towards ... damnit, why wasn't she doing anything? He could feel, faintly, her signature in the middle of that mess, and it wasn't even _moving_.

Which meant he needed to.

Right there.

Right then.

Work through the pain.

Ignore the pain.

Just get up ...

Fingertips dug into gravel, and he hauled himself around, pushing to his hands and knees.

... and _move_.

He felt something cool resting against the palm of his hand.

A block of metal? With a single movement, it snapped open.

He looked down for a moment, before grinning savagely and forcing
himself to his feet.

Yeah.

He could work with this.

*

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Ichi'd never let her forget this.

Kami, what a royal fuck up.

She'd never let him forget it either, for that matter.

Tatsuki grit her teeth, forcing herself to stay focused. Her hands
were a bleeding, painful _mess_ of cracked skin and raw meat.

Too much power. Just _too_ much.

She'd followed the trail of debris, broken branches, and his and the
Hollow's reiatsu.

She'd seen Ichi on the ropes, or whatever the hell the expression was
for someone whose only way of staying up was to prop themselves up on a metal barrier already bent from prior impact.

The Hollow had been right there in front of him, towering, _hurt_ and enraged and not at all subtle in radiating it ...

... she'd reacted.

It was like watching herself through a haze, the actual mind detached
from the body in a way, as said body moved.

Drew _that_ strip of paper. The one she didn't want anyone to know
about.

The one she'd been working on since Yuuko's hints had started to turn into something viable.

The more powerful and complex the Hado, the more damage it does. The more power used in _casting_ it, the more damage it does.

Take both. Take power from draining what was left of her reserves into it every single night for the past year, working and re-working the patterns, stabilizing them again and again ... a constant work in progress.

She'd never thought she'd actually use it.

She had.

A #63 Raikouhou, with all of its stored reiatsu, and all of her own
from that moment thrown behind it to trigger and augment.

It seared. It burned. It INCINERATED without remorse.

And without discrimination, either.

Her hands were a mess.

Her reiatsu was _gone_, with only enough left to keep her conscious and still among the living. Barely.

And Fisher was still standing. Shakily, but still standing.

Shit.

Damn it all to hell and back.

'I hope you fucking appreciate this, Ichi ...'

And her eyes played tricks on her.

Or so she thought.

Because above the gravely injured Hollow, something shone for an
instant.

A shadow rose.

Bloodied, blond-haired, and crackling with reiatsu that focused in his
right hand, turning it into a miniature sun for a moment ...

"Fucking _die_ already!"

... and plunging it right into the Hollow mask's eye-socket.

There was _no_ sound.

At all.

As if the world held its collective breath.

The raindrops fell silently.

With a flash and a roar that burst from behind said mask, the Hollow
... was gone.

But she wasn't conscious to see it, knocked out by her senses' response to the massive reiatsu discharge.

Neither was Ichigo, who collapsed bonelessly to the ground, right hand clutching a butterfly knife the blade of which was still almost white-hot with reiatsu bleed.

With a dull thump, the mask of a now very much gone Hollow came down onto cracked pavement.

*

It was ironic, and in some way fitting, the way that pure, raging reiatsu washed off the hollow's stench as it dissipated.

She didn't even need to get close. But she did.

And she... felt.

'So much power from those kids.' She shook her head gracefully trotting, jumping slightly over the newly made puddles. Some of them freshly made craters.

It had stopped being a fight.

'No. It wasn't a fight to begin with.' She looked around the scarred earth, replaying the frantic pace and desperate, sheer and pure insanity. 'A battle...'

She winced as a smell of burned flesh hit her.

'That girl ...!' She scowled inwardly. 'Who would have thought she could HAVE something like that. Much less make it. Goddamit, Yuuko! You just HAD to meddle!'

The wounds were serious, but not life threatening. Her hands, though ...

'Well, nothing will help that scarring.'

There would be no permanent damage to muscles or tendons, but with that much focused power, the scars would remain. Even the top spiritual healers wouldn't help her now. It was more than just body - her spirit would also bear the scars.

'Foolish. But ...' She sighed. 'I should have expected that of them.'

She'd been wrong.

They hadn't been ready. Then.

And Grand Fisher...

She scowled.

'That thing! It's rating was too low for the power it displayed. How could Soul Society have made such a miscalculation? No wonder it killed the Shinigami sent after it!' She frowned. 'A seated officer. 4th Seat from a combat division. Around that. No less. Nothing else could have handled that thing.' She looked at the mask, the only thing left of the hollow now. 'But they pulled through. They weren't ready then. But ... They are now.' She smirked. 'And trust those kids to do it in completely different way.'

Instead of going for the mask that Grand Fisher protected so fiercely they had crushed it's body.

'Hmm. It'd look good on some wall.' She thought absently, trotting to Ichigo.

'How nostalgic.' She thought looking around. 'It is ... that place, isn't? What irony. Fitting, though. Yuuko will have a laugh. Karma really is a bitch, isn't she? But she pays her debts to all.'

Standing behind, looking at her students getting pounded by Grand Fisher had beens one of the hardest things she had ever done.

She'd watched hundreds, if not thousands of battles. It had never been that hard to just ... stand there. And look.

When Ichigo went down that one time, struggling against all odds to remain upright, she'd paced so quickly she'd almost broken the branch she'd been observing the final confrontation from. No. She actually DID break it.

'Ichigo's right.' She sighed heavily. 'This is so fucked up. But ...' Her eye spied a glinting piece of steel in the young man's hand and she almost smiled.

'That brat ... Only he could have done it like that. No meditation, no soul searching ... Just go and kick the shit out of the enemy. And lo and behold ... It appears.'

She looked at the weapon.

"What is your name, I wonder?" She muttered.

The steel remained unresponsive, just glinting as the raindrops hit it. Still, it looked oddly content. And protective.

'Well, we'll have time to get to know you later on.'

She looked at Ichigo's injuries.

The boy was a mess.

The shirt was in shreds, cuts, nicks and gashes all over it and on the blond's torso, blood seeming from them and staining the remaining cloth even in the endless torrent of falling rain.

'His right leg is a mess ... Fisher must have nicked it. Arms ... That hair made a number on him. Cracked, if not outright broken ribs, lacerations, the wrist looks sprained ...'

"Damn, Ichi ..." She muttered standing over him. "You're a mess. That won't end in an aspirin or two this time."

There was a low, painful groan.

'Still conscious?' She thought with astonishment. 'HE looks as if somebody put him through the blender and ...'

"Yorui...ichi..." He coughed out. "Win... Did...we...win?" There was a wet cough, and blood spilled from the blond's lips as he tried to stand up, using shaky hands to pull himself up.

'SHIT! This is serious!' She thought with alarm. 'He needs to get to Yuuko's right away!'

She didn't notice her reiatsu was expanding and decompressing until she was halfway through the transformation.

'Well, it's no time for secrets now, is it?' She thought absently.

Ichigo coughed again blood spilling as his hands gave out.

Just before he hit the ground, a pair of strong, dusky arms grabbed him.

"Wuh ...?" He tried to focus his blurry eyes, only to see the dusky skin and something ... purple?

"You've won, Ichigo." Came a female voice as the gentle hands cradled him. "You've won."

"Ah ..." He relaxed. "Yoru... ichi?" He coughed and a quick hand held him, wiping the blood.

"Yeah. It's me." She smiled softly, wiping the blood of his face.

"Thought...cough so..." He crowed out, closing his eyes. "You...smell nice..." He muttered.

Yoruichi's eyes widened.

"Yeah ... really nice ..." He trailed off, finally losing consciousness.

"You stupid, foolish, stubborn brat." She said softly, cradling him gently.

A brief shunpo later, she grabbed Tatsuki's body, her hands still smoking with reiatsu.

Another shunpo later and she was gone.

The rain kept on pouring, covering the scars left by the frantic battle.

*
END of part two
*