Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Princess of Death ❯ . . . Her Resolve . . . ( Chapter 5 )

Date written: 14/04/09 - 17/04/09

Posted on FanFiction: 19/04/09

Posted on MediaMiner: 20/06/09

A/N: This chapter hasn't been rewritten yet, so expect some mistakes on my part.

--- CHAPTER 5 ---

. . . Her Resolve . . .

Ichigo straightened up as Rukia wore her soul-ejecting glove and smacked him her palm into his face. His soul bolted out of his physical body, leaving with a sense of lightness that only came when you were left with nothing but the spiritual energy residing within your very being that lacked any physical manifestation in the real world. He flexed his muscles a bit, straightened the strap of his sheath, and dashed out through the window. Rukia followed close behind.

“Wha—?” Ichigo uttered, as his eyes drifted onto the front entrance of his home. With a bird cage wrapped around his big, tanned arms, Chad was running out of the clinic as if his life depended on it. “CHAD!” Ichigo yelled but the Mexican didn't hear him. Of course, he wouldn't. He was a soul, now, and ordinary humans wouldn't be able to see or hear him.

Ichigo didn't know why Chad would just leave all of a sudden like that, especially since he was the one who brought Orihime into the clinic. Now he knew enough about the Mexican giant to know that Chad often took the safety of the people he tries to protect than his own. It wasn't long after he charged right into the establishment carrying a very injured victim of what appeared to be an automobile accident from a normal person's point of view but actually the work of a Hollow's. Ichigo had a faint idea of the extent of the girl's injuries and it wouldn't be that quick to evaluate whether she'd be fine or not.

Ichigo shook away the thought. No, she will be fine!

“Where's he going?” Ichigo asked out loud, which was heard by his companion.

“I am not sure,” Rukia replied, “but I think it concerns the human soul within that cockatiel.” There was a beep and Rukia immediately consulted her cell phone. “Ichigo, we got orders!”

“Not now! We have more important matters, like that Hollow that's about to come this way.”

“That's just it. It changed course and heading northwest.”

“Northwest,” Ichigo repeated. He then looked over at the setting sun—three quarters of it already sank under the horizon—and pitched his view a little to the right. Facing northwest, he suddenly realized something. “The Hollow's going northwest?”

“Yeah. Didn't I just say that?” Rukia said. Apprehension crawled onto her face as she looked from the small cell phone screen to the direction of northwest. “It's after that cockatiel.”

“And Chad, too.” He gave Rukia the signal, and she jumped out of the window while Ichigo already ran in pursuit of the bird and the giant. He rushed through the streets, keeping a close feel on Chad and the cockatiel's reiatsu. He also felt the presence of the Hollow close by but couldn't see it yet. He knew that Rukia was also close by but he didn't turn around to acknowledge her. His mind was solely on getting to his friend.

Crossing another street, he caught sight of Chad running with untold speed. If Ichigo had been in his physical body, he would have had a hard time catching up to Chad. But with the extra abilities of being a shinigami he was able to catch up without a hitch. Well . . . almost without a hitch. The Hollow was far faster and already prepared for a tackle attack on the Mexican.

“CHAD, WATCH OUT!” Ichigo screamed, but again it was unheard. But miraculously, Chad dodged the tackle by moving his body over the left. He hit the wall hard but it would take more than just that to cause Chad any harm.

“Watch out!” Rukia screamed for him, as the Hollow did another attack, this time using its claws to try and slice Chad in half. “Move now!”

Chad rolled towards the opposite wall, his back to it, breathing a little faster as the adrenaline may already be pumping through his veins. Ichigo acted quickly and unsheathed his goliath zanpakuto, screaming a battle cry as he sprinted towards the Hollow.

The Hollow looked at him and seemed to scoff at his berserker-like charge that seemed to shout out this phrase: `no plan, no secondary objective, and no sense whatsoever.' It moved swiftly out of the sword's way and readied another claw attack.

Ichigo missed his mark but that didn't mean he was out of the game just yet. When the Hollow pulled back its arm, readying the sharp claws protruding from the ends of its fingers, he swerved his zanpakuto to the side just in time for him to block the attack. But the force of the blow due to the Hollow's inhuman strength made him skid a few feet back, giving the Hollow ample time to jump up to one of the telephone poles in the street.

“You're not getting away from me!” he shouted with determination. He tightened his grip on his zanpakuto and jumped high into the air. He knew he couldn't jump that high to fully reach the top of the telephone pole with just one leap, so he redirected his jump a little forward, nearing his body to the pole's vertical shaft. He wall-ran the rest of the way up.

“Interfering shinigami!” the Hollow hissed before jumping up again right when Ichigo's sword was about to cut both its legs off. The Hollow grew bat-like wings from under its forearms and then glided around until it was sure it had a sure advantage of the fight, while Ichigo stood on top of the pole, thinking of a way to get to the Hollow without risk of falling. He still had very little grasp over the `levitation trick' and the best he could do was maybe ten seconds of air time before he lost footing and subsequently freefall to the ground.

Ichigo didn't like the disadvantage he was in and quickly directed that frustration to the Hollow above him. “Quit flying around like a coward and fight me, bastard!”

The Hollow he was facing was—like all the rest—ugly as hell. Its hole dominated most of its chest that you could even fit an exercise ball in it. It had a blue-grayish skin color that Ichigo believed must be difficult to cut through with ordinary blades; its feet, looking like those of a bird, and hands were coated with a brownish tint that had the texture of fur, though from where Ichigo was, he couldn't be sure. The white mask was like any other Hollow's. It had a square jaw, circular eyeholes, rectangular flat-top horns, and what looked like black paint smothering the area of the lips, giving the impression of a typical 3-year-old boy eating his chocolate too fast and making a mess of himself thereafter.

The Hollow laughed. “Look at this! A shinigami ordering a Hollow to fight fairly.” He laughed wickedly as if what Ichigo said had been the funniest thing he ever heard. “What are ya? Some kind of dunce who didn't learn a thing about what a Hollow does?”

“Shut up!” he yelled.

“Ichigo! Get down!” Rukia's voice came unexpected. Ichigo looked down and saw Chad next to the electric pole he was on. He saw him hug it and . . .

“RRRAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

Ichigo reacted quickly and jumped down from the pole, just as Chad broke it off from its base. “Now, transfer student,” he heard Chad say to Rukia. “Which way?”

“Straight ahead. Slam it down.”

Chad complied and the pole, acting like a wooden mallets in those old American cartoons, collided with the Hollow's head. The Hollow felt the full force of the blow and dropped to the ground along with the other end of the pole in a heap of dust and cracked pavement.

Ichigo stared at Chad in surprise. Just what the hell is he made of? Uh, didn't I just think that earlier today? Shaking those thoughts away, Ichigo readied his zanpakuto again as the Hollow picked itself off of the ground.

“Give yourself up now and this will be quick,” Rukia said, keeping her distance from the Hollow. Both Ichigo and Chad were standing right behind her.

The Hollow laughed maniacally. “Don't think I go down that easily, shinigami scum!” It clicked its tongue, sending some sort of sound pulse around it. The bushes from the surrounding houses reacted as if it were the call of the wind, and if not for the frog-like creatures jumping out of each moving shrub, Ichigo would've thought that plants could do more than just stand around and bathe in light and drink water all day.

The frogs stuck on the backs of all three of them and shoved them towards the ground. Ichigo had the unlucky opportunity of falling face-first; he really hoped his nose didn't break from the fall. When he looked up, Rukia and Chad were in the same predicament and he could see the firm grip these little amphibians had on each of their wrists, shoulders, and elbows. Ichigo tried to force himself out of the restraints but these frogs were as abnormal in strength as well as their looks. But he wouldn't stop trying. He had to get out.

“Haha! Look at you,” the Hollow gloated, “squirming around like some fish out of water. Maybe I should end this with a bang. What do you think?”

Ichigo responded by gritting his teeth.

“You think so? Hahaha! Good!” It extended its tongue out, and Ichigo could see the tip and how it spreads apart, arched like a `U' while appearing like it's the tongue of a snake—to a certain extent, rather. The tongue vibrated like a musical triangle and the next he knew, he was on the receiving end of a mini-explosion that ignited right on his back. Rukia yelped in pain; Chad, however, only grunted as if the pain was like a sissy sucker punch to the gut. “My pets are filled with mini-bombs that explode after I play my little tongue note. But I guess there weren't enough to get rid of any o' ya.”

“D—Damn you . . .” Ichigo groaned, sitting up from the ground. His legs felt like their nerves were at their limit and the pain on his back was excruciatingly hindering his stance, but he wasn't about to back down. He picked his zanpakuto off the ground and prepared for another attack. This time, however, he was careful not to fall for the same trick again.

“Oh, best be careful, shinigami,” the Hollow drawled, not really caring about its adversary's current condition. “You wouldn't want anything to happen to the little Shibata, would you?” It stepped to the right, showing Ichigo the bird cage and, within it, the cockatiel with its head bowed low.

“I'm sorry, mister.”

“Shibata.” Chad looked grave, already sensing the danger if he did anything as move from where he laid on the ground. His back was as bad as Ichigo's but due to his muscular frame and the lower number of frogs on top of him, he wasn't fully affected of the explosions as his orange-haired classmate.

Ichigo, however, frowned at the foul attempt of keeping a hostage captive. He wasn't disadvantaged in taking the Hollow out, even with the cockatiel being held hostage by it. He wanted to tread lightly in this situation and probably even shed some light as to why there was a human soul residing within the cockatiel. The Hollow seemed to have rapt attention over just one measly Plus inside that bird, while it may have already smelled the strong waves of spiritual energy gathered together in one spot at his home. The Hollow didn't take the bait and instead decided to turn its attention on Chad and his pet bird. Now this little bit of odd behavior intrigued him, for it may mean that the Hollow was connected to the Plus somehow.

“I'll ask you one question before I send you to hell,” Ichigo growled fiercely, his brown eyes almost shining blue. “What is that cockatiel to you?”

The Hollow looked like it was smiling within that ugly mask.

Orihime landed on her feet, surprised for even having the grace of a cat and the fact that she just fell over twenty stories down yet she hadn't felt any sort of trauma resulting from the impact, like it had been nullified once she touched the floor. She looked around her, finding the place too foggy and dark for her liking. It clouded her vision intensely that when she extended her arm out, she couldn't anything past her elbow.

Everywhere was dark gray. But the color seemed to be edging towards blackness and if what the kimono woman told her was really going to happen, then this place would be like the void of oblivion she would soon find her soul embedded within. There would be nothingness for her if she didn't set this right. But the question still remained: What must she do?

“Hello?” Orihime called, finding no other ways to get started. “Anyone here?” She found it difficult to breathe while in this abyss and her voice wasn't exactly up to par for any talking after that screamfest she did while falling. But at least her voice didn't give out just yet.

No one answered. She was greeted with silence and would've stayed that way if not for the FLAP! she heard from somewhere in the fog. It sounded like an umbrella was closed. Inside the fog where her vision had now been severely limited, she felt rather than saw movement from somewhere to her left. She turned that way and was met with silence again. The very dark fog was cold to her skin and she suppressed the need to shiver while the unknown person that was with her inside this void-like place showed themselves to her.

“I know someone's there,” Orihime said. She wanted to say “Show yourself” along with what she already said, but she found her throat constricting from the fear and the air around her that all the sound that her mouth formed was a mere cough with a voice that didn't sound feminine but more gruff and shaken, as if Orihime hadn't had a drink of water for three whole days. It was already hard to breathe; now it was harder to even talk. Her voice was now lost and there was just no way for her to figure out her predicament.

“Are you lost, child?” the kimono woman's voice echoed in the fog. Orihime was certain she saw her silhouette in the direction where she heard the FLAP! sound. “Do you think you can face whatever obstacle you'll have in your way by avoiding it? That's just cowardice.”

Orihime couldn't speak to make a proper reply to what the kimono woman stated. The shivering she tried to suppress intensified until she couldn't hold it back anymore. She wrapped her arms around herself as the cold attacked every part of her body, crawling around like worms, sending what felt like ice needles through her skin and into the very cells of her blood. Before she could even fathom the intensity of the cold while wearing only her school uniform, goose pimples had already appeared on every part of her body. Orihime exhaled her breath but it was shaky and broken.

“I told you before, child: Open your eyes and see the truth. The rest will go from there.”

Orihime shook her head, telling her that she didn't understand.

“Whatever happened to your dedication, child? You said so, yourself. If you wish to continue using the power I gave you, then you must prove to me that you can use it.

“You needn't speak for I can hear your thoughts. But let's not waste anymore time over trivial matters. You need to clear your vision, drive away the fog that clouds your sight of the truth. If you don't, then you'll be consumed by your own birthright. It will take over you; make you its own. I told you that once you take this road, there is no turning back. This power is now a part of you and taking it away is impossible. If you don't hurry, child, then whatever salvation I am forcefully throwing upon will be all for naught. Do not fail me.”

Orihime straightened her stance and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath and gathering her thoughts, she asked the kimono woman, What must I do? through her thoughts.

“Your shinigami powers are connected to your resolve. Though you've already decided what to do with your powers, your doubts lingered and never quivered no matter how much determination you shout out to yourself. It is as if you are not only lying to others, but to yourself as well. Those doubts made you weak inside, causing all of this within you. I would've postponed the inevitable but that Hollow attack you suffered to your back put you into a near death state. And when you are in near death, the more your shinigami powers awaken. Much, much more than I could ever control by myself.”

A strong gust of wind picked up and blew away most of the fog. Orihime can now see the field in which she was in the middle. The red kimono woman stood near her, staring at her like she was assessing her physical, mental, and spiritual state. But Orihime wasn't looking at her. The field before was still engrossed in fog, albeit faded and weak like the thin veil of a wedding bride, but she could clearly see the things that were embedded to the soft, grayish ground. Swords. Thousands upon thousands of swords, their blades stabbed into the ground as if they were the tombstones of the soldiers who lost their life in battle. The swords were all in shapes and sizes; some were as thin and narrow as the girth of a remote controller; some were as thick and long as an odachi she'd seen in a history book once. But in all their shapes, sizes, and lengths, they seemed to be missing one vital factor: They had no sharp edge.

“You wish to end disputes with words and try to minimize whatever fights physically. It's cowardice, child. You are now a shinigami, and as such, you must think like one. It is kill or be killed. There is no reasoning with Hollows. If you see one, you must strike it down without a moment of thought. A moment of hesitance is the difference between your death and the Hollow's.” The kimono woman's voice grew intensely serious after that. “From within this graveyard of dull blades lies me in my sword form. You must find me inside this vast array of swords within three minutes”—she held out three fingers in her right hand, presenting it to Orihime—“and if you do, then you will be the dominant side once more. However, if you fail . . . I don't need to say what will happen again, do I?”

Orihime clenched her fists involuntarily, and stared at all the swords engraved into the gray soil. They looked as if they were mocking her very existence, denying her whatever chance she was being given. Doubt began to cloud her mind again.

“Your resolve is the key, child. Once you understand your place, you will find me. So show me. Show me that all I've done for you were not in vain.”

And with that, the kimono woman disappeared from her sight. A flash of light blinded her momentarily. When it dissipated and her eyes readjusted themselves to the natural light of the field, the fog was gone. Everywhere Orihime looked she could see thousands of swords stabbing the ground with their dull blades. They must be signifying her hesitance. She didn't like hurting anybody and most likely a dull sword suited her. But it also meant that she wasn't fit for being a shinigami. And if she was not fit for it, she wasn't worthy of the power.

Orihime coughed a bit, inhaled deeply, and exhaled with a loud “HAH!” Her voice was no longer rough but what difference did that make when the kimono woman was already gone? She walked hesitatingly to the sword closest to her, observing its long hilt and relatively thick blade, which reached up to the height of her breasts even if it was impaled into the ground, and moved to take hold of the hilt. As her fingers touched the black hilt, Orihime felt a shiver course through her spine and the coldness edging around every part of the sword engulfed itself into her hand. She saw a vision.

“Blood, more blood . . .”

“GET BACK! GET BACK! GWAAAHH!!!”

Blood splattering. Red liquid oozing from the dismembered limbs of a man in armor.

“NO! Please, no! Not my baby! NOT MY BABY!”

Stabbing sounds. Maniacal laughter. An infant's cry. More stabbing sounds.

The sounds of battle, the cries of the suffering, the whispers of the lost, the pleas of the innocent . . .

No more . . . no more . . . no more . . . no more . . . no more . . .

“UNWORTHY!!!”

Orihime reeled her hand back as the sword disintegrated into dust then nothingness. From where she landed unceremoniously on the ground butt-first, she heard the maniacal laughter echo everywhere until it dissolved, too, into nothingness, like a sound produced right next to her ear that was slowly moving farther away from her hearing range. Orihime shivered, not from the cold but from the dread etching deep within her being. What was that? she asked herself. She couldn't stop her hand from shaking.

She was supposed to find only one sword within this graveyard of thousands of dull blades, whose purpose may only be to remain here and rot like useless pieces of trash. Will she end up like these blades, never to be of help when the situation arises? It was a cruel thought but she already felt like it was the inevitable outcome of this challenge. Even if the kimono woman told her all she needed to know, it didn't seem enough to find just one sword from a thousand blades. It's like finding a needle in a haystack.

Orihime sighed and closed her eyes. Was there anything she could possibly do right?

You are now a shinigami, and as such, you must think like one. It is kill or be killed.

Those words replay over and over in her mind, like she was trying to decipher some sort of hidden message inside it. A kill or be killed scenario was an obvious assumption when one becomes a shinigami, but Orihime hadn't even prepared herself yet to even face that kind of situation. She could defend herself quite well but she wasn't mentally prepared to actually kill someone, even if that someone happened to be a Hollow, which was an embodiment of instinct and sin and must be brought down for the souls trapped within could go to heaven. And now she had been brought to a similar predicament. It's kill or be killed—rather, it's more of a `survive or don't survive' scenario, but the basic structure still applied. She would die if she didn't do anything; she would live if she did do something. But if she would have a similar experience as the first sword she had tried to pull out . . .

“Pathetic,” she said to herself. “You've always been pathetic.” But what purpose could she actually have in doing this? Was there even hope that she'd get through all of this? The kimono woman had expected too much of her; she couldn't do this alone.

Orihime didn't open her eyes. There was no need. The outcome had already been decided before this trial even started. It was impossible. To search for a thousand blades for only one in just three minutes was undoubtedly impossible. The answer she sought to find were nothing more but—

A small tug in her mind pushed her out of her inner ramblings. She was having another vision . . .

She opened her mind's eyes and saw herself standing on top of an electric pole, watching the battle between a square-jawed Hollow and a certain orange-haired shinigami, whom she instantly recognized. Sado and Rukia were there, too, but far away from the battle. A closer look at Ichigo's face made her see the anger seeping out of his eyes like hell fire. She had never seen Ichigo this angry before and knew that that anger was directed at the Hollow, which was laughing in glee as it spat out what looked like big frogs at its enemy.

She tried to warn Ichigo to get out of the way but found that she couldn't say a word. Ichigo swerved and got hit by the frogs as they splat like water balloons milliseconds after touching him. Dozens of pink walnut-sized objects stuck to Ichigo. She saw the Hollow stuck out its tongue and felt a sudden vibration coming from the tongue's tip that looked like a snake's but had a U-shaped curve. She looked back at Ichigo and saw, to her horror, the walnuts exploding in an outlandish display of a black mushroom cloud while she listened to the orange-haired teen's scream of agony.

She screamed his name—tried to, at least. Tears were forming in her eyes as the smoke from the explosion subsided. There stood Ichigo, looking like he bit off more than he could chew, panting heavily as the wounds on his back and shoulders cascaded blood that it was no small wonder where exactly Ichigo had stored all that red liquid in his body.

“Damn it . . .” she heard him curse.

She looked at herself and found she was wearing shinigami clothing the same as Ichigo's. Her chocolate brown eyes were staring at the battle with a calloused expression. This version of her didn't even seem to care whether Ichigo would live or not; but what unnerve her the most was the maniacal grin etched on that shinigami's lips. Her katana was strapped on her waist, the hilt looked almost as long as a ruler. She wanted to help him. She wanted to draw out that katana and stop the Hollow's advance on Ichigo's vulnerable form. She wanted . . . she wanted . . . she wanted . . .

“Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime opened her eyes, shouting out his name to the empty field. Empty? When she made sure she was in the same field, she found it be devoid of the graveyard of swords. She heard her own echo after shouting Ichigo's surname and concluded that this wasn't an illusion. But what happened to the swords?

You found it again, child.

Orihime turned around, surprised at the voice of the kimono woman behind her. But she didn't see her there. What was instead standing in front of her was a single, long katana impaling the ground with its tip as the sharp edge of its blade shine the light coming from above. Orihime understood that this was the sword she had been looking. Her sword.

I see now, Orihime thought. My power is drawn from my will to fight. If I don't wish to fight, then the sword in my hand would be as useless and dull as the wielder. She looked apologetically at the katana and bowed deeply. “I'm sorry. If I had known earlier of my mistake, then you and I wouldn't be in such a desperate situation.”

You needed reassurance, child, Orihime heard her say in her head. The will to fight can only be created by the sheer desire of the person. If it was forced, then it would be weak. You show promise of a powerful shinigami, Orihime, but you lack the determination to become one.

“But that's because I am unsure of myself.”

No, child. You are not unsure, but afraid. Afraid of your heritage, afraid of what you've become, and afraid of what you shallbecome. I will not lie to you, child. I am still keeping secrets from you, but they are being kept from you for a reason. Once you've proven yourself worthy to wield me, Am*******, then we will begin to slowly unfold these mysteries of your past. But now . . . FIGHT!

Orihime nodded, steeled herself, and grabbed the katana's hilt. And with all the strength she had, all the willpower she had garnered to finally see the truth of her shinigami heritage and her destiny, she pulled the sword out of the ground.

“Lend me your strength,” she whispered, “and I will lend you my will.”

So . . . it has begun . . . take care, princess. Brown-eyed `Orihime' stopped smiling after feeling the sword being pulled out of the ground by only the timid girl's will to fight. She didn't expect that Orihime could actually do it, and that would've meant `she' could be free to roam in this shinigami spirit body to `her' liking. Orihime's physical body was almost dead due to the injuries, and it wouldn't be long before reattaching her shinigami spirit to that body becomes impossible. `She' had hoped that Orihime would fail but also hoped that she would succeed. It's a contradictive logic that didn't seem to have any meaning as to the intentions `she' had over her. But only time would tell if Orihime was really worthy of the power she had been given. Soon . . . real soon, princess . . .

Orihime's consciousness pushed `her' control away, leading her back into the depths of the woman's soul, waiting for the chance to come back out again. `She' really hoped it would be soon. `She' just couldn't wait to have some “fun” with Ichigo again . . .

Ichigo cursed as he dodged another of the Hollow's frogs. He got careless before and it ended up with him sporting more explosive injuries around his back and shoulders. His two arms were still unharmed but the intensity of the pain in his shoulders made it difficult for him to move his sword about, slowing down his swings as the Hollow dodged every one of his attacks with ease. And during the whole thing, the Hollow looked like it was having fun toying with him.

He heard its story. How it had been a serial killer when it was alive; how it had targeted the cockatiel's mother while she did everything in her power to save her child; how he killed the woman in cold blood while the son was there to watch; how he died because of that child, and in revenge killed him as a Hollow and shoved the innocent boy's soul into the body of a cockatiel; and how it told the boy that if he were to stay inside that cockatiel for three months, then the Hollow would bring his mother back to life. Ichigo had turned to Rukia for an explanation but she shook his head negatively, informing him that resurrection was impossible. He had seen the cockatiel sprout out things like “But you promised me you would . . .” and “I thought I was doing this for mommy . . .”

And because of the Hollow's heartless manipulations over a little kid's innocence and need to have her mother back, Ichigo was beyond angry. He was enraged and took that emotion into the forefront as he faced the Hollow again. But the Hollow was prepared and took advantage of his brash movements due to his angered state. He didn't think; he didn't plan. And in the end, he got hurt without landing a single blow on the Hollow. Ichigo was a sitting duck.

But Ichigo wasn't about to give up. He was far from thinking along those lines.

“Give up yet?” the Hollow asked. Ichigo gave him the finger. “Hmph. That's more like it.”

Ichigo braced himself for the spitting attack. He already had a plan in mind. The only problem was the distance between him and the Hollow. But it didn't matter. He'd dash right up to it without restraint. The Hollow threw more of its exploding frogs at him. Three hit him and splat like water balloons. He grabbed one with his right hand and squashed it with subdued force.

The Hollow puffed out its chest and laughed. “Bad move, shinigami dirt! Now this is the end for y—”

That was as far as the Hollow could say before Ichigo disappeared from his sight and appeared right in front of it. It tried to escape but Ichigo drove his explosive-laded fist into its mouth. It reacted fast enough to close its mouth, but that didn't stop Ichigo's advancing punch. He pierced through the mask's teeth, and got hold of the annoying tongue that gave him the injuries covering most of his upper body.

The Hollow was looking at him in shock. “What's the matter?” Ichigo asked. “Why don't you use your tongue and blow my hand off?” He squeezed the tongue so hard that the Hollow instinctively took hold of his arm. “If you won't use your dirty tongue then I'll be glad to rid you of it!”

The Hollow tried to say “No!” but due to its tongue still held tightly by the shinigami, it sounded more like a senseless scream. Ichigo pulled with all his might even with the Hollow's hold on his arm keeping him from ruthlessly taking out its tongue. There was a snapping sound and Ichigo jumped back a few feet with a severed tongue in his hand, blood spurting out like a water sprinkler from the open veins of the cutout organ while it wiggled around like the severed tail of a lizard.

The Hollow yelled more incomprehensible babbles now that its tongue was gone.

This was it. Ichigo gripped his zanpakuto with both hands and slashed away at the Hollow's mask. It sliced in two as the Hollow screamed to the heavens. Suddenly a beam of light burst out of the cut from the Hollow's mask as the background began forming a red mist.

Ichigo stepped back and witnessed the appearance of a large, black double-door gate with giant skeletons placed on each door. The skeletons were facing slightly inward with their respective hands gripping onto the crack in the middle of the gate. And as the Hollow he had recently slashed with his zanpakuto screamed and screamed and screamed, the double-door gate slid open like a fusuma (df. sliding double doors in Japanese architecture). All Ichigo saw from the other side was red. He felt a shiver run down his spine as the wind blowing from within that red and misty world seemed evil, tainted, and ghastly cold.

“What the hell?” he murmured.

“That is the Gates of Hell.” From behind Ichigo, there stood Rukia with her arms crossed. She continued, “A shinigami can only wash away the sins a soul had committed in death. But if a soul has done sinful deeds while it was still alive, then they are brought to Hell for judgment.”

The Hollow's mask began to crack; its screams sounding more of agony as the torn out particles of its white mask disintegrated into nothing. Half of its mask had already been “removed,” when a giant arm wielding a spear shot out from within the red mist, piercing the Hollow in the groin. No blood spurted out from the tip of the spear, but the Hollow had stopped its screamfest once the shaft of the spear dug into its body. Its hands, which were near its head, dropped down like deadweight. Seconds later, the giant arm pulled itself back, reeling in its catch of the day.

Ichigo sighed in relief. It's over.

“What the—” Rukia exclaimed. “ICHIGO! WATCH OUT!”

It was too late; it had been too fast for him to react. Right before the Gates of Hell had closed itself up, a shadow exited the mist. It was animalistic in terms of appearance but the thing was too wrapped up in some black shroud that he couldn't figure out what it was. The next second, he heard a static sound and it suddenly disappeared then appeared in front of him. His guard was down and his body had relaxed from the tension during the fight, so Ichigo didn't have enough time to block the claw attack aimed at his midsection.

The shadow slashed with three elongated claws in its left hand, at his stomach. The pain was powerful; his mind had little to no trouble to make him feel that excruciating heat of deep lacerations.

“ICHIGO!” Rukia screamed but it only moved the shadow's attention from him to her. She took a step back, while he tried to recover from the blow. He was panting heavily; wounds plagued every part of his upper body. There was just no end to the cascading blood pouring out of every gash and burns in his body. Most of his bodily functions had already begun to shut down. Nevertheless, he tried his hardest to ready his sword. He mustn't let that thing get to Rukia.

The shadow yelled an ear-piercing scream that sounded similar like a Hollow's howl but, if at all possible, felt darker. Ichigo swung his sword but it was weak and slow. The shadow only stepped to the left to dodge, and then drove its right hand into his chest. He could vaguely feel the long black claws protruding from his back. He coughed out blood as his vision quivered.

“Damn it . . .” he said, as his knees buckled after the thing removed its claws from his chest. He bent down on all fours and breathed in and out heavily. His lungs were pierced, and he had just been luck that his heart wasn't affected with that attack. If it did, he would already be dead. What the hell is that thing?

Ichigo looked up and saw the shadow, looking like a mix between a black panther, a bull, and a human, raised both of its three-fingered hands up as far as they could go. He knew what it was about to do, but he couldn't get his body to move away from the impending fatal attack. MOVE! MOVE GODDAMMIT MOVE!!!

The claws swiped down . . .

Ichigo closed his eyes . . .

. . . and heard a CLANG!

He opened his eyes again but his vision had already begun to become blurry, and the only thing he could see was the back of a person with long orange hair.