Cold.
Tatsuki felt so horrifically cold.
At first, it had felt like she was standing at the bottom of the sea, the horrid sensation of being pulverized by an ocean’s worth of water. An overwhelming, soul-crushing force of power being exuded by the alien looking man with the long brown hair and abnormal butterfly-like wings. And the mere sight of his purple and white eyes seized the air in her lungs, left her suffocating and choking, and Tatsuki was so sure she would die breathless in that moment.
But then, out of nowhere, Ichigo was standing behind him, and like leaves in the wind, that monstrous power scattered away. But she felt no better.
In fact, she felt worse.
In the wake of the strange man’s colossal presence, there was this bone-chilling cold now, and Tatsuki could literally see the colors of the world dull; bright blue hues of the sky and the beige and whites of the buildings fell grey. From the corner of her eyes, she saw trees and shrubbery blacken and wither and the world just went silent.
And all of it, all of it, seemed to be centered on Ichigo.
And yet…
He looked so different. He looked much older and taller, his hair had grown to the nape of his neck as it framed his face wild and messy. His shoulders were broader and seemed to have filled out… he didn’t look like the moody teenager that walked with a scowl through the halls of Karakura High. He was so different.
And most striking of all... his eyes. His usual expressive brown eyes were now a molten crimson. And she could see none of the usual somber emotion there; that soft weight that he had carried ever since his mother’s passing.
Instead… it was the cold, the very chill she had felt grip her frigid now sat in his eyes. But…
Tatsuki’s breath hitched.
As she stared into Ichigo’s eyes, the cold gave way to something far worse. Beneath that crimson glow she glimpsed a roiling depth, a twisted shadow coiling inside her oldest friend. And then it noticed her. In the span of a heartbeat, Ichigo’s shape dissolved in her sight, replaced by a towering and writhing mass of red and black miasma, twisting like some malformed serpent. The air thickened with it, rancid and suffocating, and all she could feel pouring from that… thing was hatred. An ancient, ravenous anger that seemed utterly intent on swallowing her whole.
Tatsuki’s stomach contorted painfully as bile burned up her throat. Her shoulders trembled, sweat beading across her brow as her vision swam in and out of focus. And through the blur she barely perceived it: these unnerving and invisible tendrils unfurling from Ichigo’s being, coiling outward, seeping into everything.
And it was with outright terror that she realized that the hatred hidden behind his eyes was climbing out of him. Infecting the world around him. She watched with bated breath as the very ground around him began to crumble and disintegrate and the vileness began spreading outward, a slow creeping annihilation of everything around him.
And it was in all of that, Tatsuki understood one, simple truth.
This wasn’t Ichigo… just some monster wearing his face.
=======
Ichigo watched Aizen with a detached calm. It was an odd feeling, being face to face with the greatest enemy of his human life and not having an instant reaction. If anything, there was only a faint, almost distant nostalgia. And dare he say, the strangest sense of childish amusement, like finding an old toy he hadn’t seen since his childhood days.
Which only further cemented the oddity in his mind.
This moment, this battle, had been one of the significant turning points of his life. After his mother’s death, nothing had redirected his path more sharply than this battle. It had cost him everything: his power, his place in the hidden world, even the simple ability to see spirits as he had all his life.
The consequences of his battle with Aizen had been a pyrrhic victory; he had been cut off from half the world he had been trying to protect. And to know of all the dangers and wonders of the supernatural and then suddenly be left blind to it all… it had proven to be a crushing thing.
But despite his past sentiments, Ichigo had to hold back a rueful laugh.
It was funny, he thought, how something that had once felt like the end of his world barely registered against what he’d become.
But his reminiscing was pushed away as Aizen’s observed him closely, a curious hostility simmering beneath his composure. “What are you?” he asked quietly, that ineffable sense of superiority marking his gaze. “There is no hint of Shinigami nor Hollow in you.”
A part of him was surprised, he thought for sure that Aizen would be able to sense some inkling of Zangetsu. But then, Hollows were corrupted Human souls, and Ichigo no longer had one. Zangetsu was its own unique existence then, Ichigo surmised.
At the same time, Ichigo had no interest in indulging in Aizen’s questions, he had already lived through this before. So he flexed an iota of his power.
One instant he stood before Aizen, the next his hand was clamped over the transformed Shinigami’s face. With casual strength he lifted him and blurred into motion, carrying him far across the horizon before hurling him down. Aizen’s body tore through the distance like a meteor, smashing through one mountain, then another, then a third in a thunderous chain of collapsing stone.
The dust plume had barely begun to settle when Aizen stepped out of it, robes unmarked, expression thoughtful rather than shaken.
“You… I see,” he observed, eyes narrowing. “You’ve transformed your power into something other. You’ve forsaken your spiritual energies entirely.”
Ichigo resisted the urge to roll his eyes and let out a sigh. Aizen always did like the sound of his own voice.
Aizen then tilted his chin imperiously as he studied him more intently. Then something flickered behind his gaze. “Yes…” he murmured. “You’ve made contact with the greater world, haven’t you?”
Surprise flashed through Ichigo’s eyes.
“So you did know,” he muttered, more to himself than to Aizen. It made sense that Aizen of all people would have been aware of the greater supernatural and what lay beyond the Shinto borders, though how much and to what extent remained a mystery. Yet Ichigo was willing to bet he knew quite a bit.
“How disappointing,” Aizen continued, voice soft with contempt. “How disappointing, Kurosaki Ichigo, that you have squandered transcendence and become… this lesser thing. Satan, you said? You have sold your soul to those fiendish creatures called Devils then? How very disappointing.”
Ichigo summoned Zangetsu with an easy motion, the blade burning into his hand with a malevolent press against reality. Instantly Aizen’s gaze flashed towards his Soul-Sword, the barest hint of a frown forming on his lips.
Around them stretched nothing but barren stone - jagged ridges, wind-scoured plateaus, and a horizon of fractured mountains, and already Zangetsu was having its effect on that enviornment, filling the air with brimstone and miasma, causing the ground beneath him to sear and break apart in heat.
Aizen stood opposite him, wings fanned wide, sword poised with the same immaculate composure Ichigo remembered. For a moment the wasteland held still, wind whispering through the rocks.
Then they collided.
Their first clash rang out like a thousand peals of thunder. The impact shattered the ground beneath them, spiderweb cracks racing outward as slabs of stone buckled and lifted. Dust burst upward in a violent plume, and the shockwave flattened entire ridgelines around them.
Ichigo stepped forward and through the swordplay with no further thought, his Zanpakuto cutting in a clean diagonal meant to force Aizen back. The transformed Shinigami met it with perfect timing, their swords screaming together as sparks sprayed into the air. The pressure between them detonated outward, blasting a trench across the plain and sending boulders the size of houses tumbling like pebbles.
Ichigo pressed in again, faster now, his strikes flowing with memory and instinct rather than intent. Aizen gave ground with graceful precision as he parried and deflected Ichigo’s blows - each movement elegant, economical and exact.
But Ichigo felt a small frown tug on his lips as he dredged forth the memories of their fight. During his human years, he had replayed the fight over and over again in his head, trying to relive the faint echoes of power through daydreams and memories.
Luckily they served him well enough now.
Aizen countered with a sudden thrust, the blade spearing forward faster than thought. Ichigo twisted aside, the strike grazing past him, and answered with a sweeping cut that cleaved through a towering rock spire behind Aizen. The formation split in two with a grinding roar before collapsing into a cascading avalanche.
Aizen vanished upward in a flicker of motion before reappearing above him, he then descended with a vertical strike heavy enough to shear the air apart. Ichigo raised Zangetsu to meet it, and the collision blasted a circular shockwave across the wasteland. Whole shelves of stone ripped free and blasted through mountainsides, while the sky above churned with spiraling clouds dragged into their wake.
Though Ichigo paid it all little mind.
Aizen accelerated, strikes coming faster, sharper, the controlled perfection of his technique now edged with pressure. Ichigo felt the difference instantly, and not just because of the increased output of spiritual power from his old foe, but through the Sin coiled inside him. Wrath tasted the irritation tightening in Aizen’s movements, the growing frusteration beneath each blow. Ichigo recalled the disdain and disbelief Aizen had held within him all those years ago, the inability to accept that Ichigo had grown beyond him.
And now, those same sentiments churned within this temporal echo. Aizen was slowly growing upset over not being able overpower him.
Their swords locked, steel grinding between them as the ground beneath their feet fractured into a widening crater, and continued Aizen his push.
Ichigo simply stepped aside.
The redirected force screamed past him and split a distant mountain clean down its spine, the peak sliding apart in a thunderous cascade of rubble.
But then, Aizen straightened his posture and relaxed his sword, looking over Ichigo’s shoulder to the sundered mountain. “You have kept up with me well, so far. But you see? An entire mountain cut apart in the wake of my sword. That is my power right now. You must be surprised… if I am being honest, even I did not expect my power to grow so much. I am happy, Kurosaki Ichigo, that you have become a suitable outlet for me to test the depths of my strength.”
He rolled his eyes.
If Ichigo let him, Aizen would probably talk him to death before his sword ever made contact with his skin. Also, why did he keep using his full name? Wasn’t it annoying to do so?
Huh… these were things he never dwelled on back in the day. Power really did change perspective.
Aizen interrupted Ichigo's stray thoughts as he renewed his assault, vanishing in a blur of white and reappearing at Ichigo’s flank with a strike meant to cleave him in half. Ichigo turned readily as Zangetsu easily caught the blow, the impact detonating the ground beneath them and sending slabs of stone vaulting skyward like tossed coins. Aizen pressed his counteroffensive immediately, blade flashing in a relentless series of precise thrusts that carved furrows through the earth whenever Ichigo deflected them.
“It is strange,” Aizen said, as his voice carried over the tearing earth the bellows of their clashing swords, “that my Zanpakuto has fused with my right arm. Perhaps this is the natural state of a Zanpakuto?
“But… Kurosaki Ichigo, I now understand, I am standing somewhere very far away from you. My evolution is completely beyond whatever foreign power you have traded your spirit energies for. If I wanted to, I could shatter your blade with a single strike.”
And Aizen took a step forward with a single powerful swing… only for Ichigo to catch his blade harmlessly in his palm. Though behind him, the rock exploded and giant hills worth of rocky shrapnel went flying through the air.
Aizen stared at him wide eyed. “Impossible,” he breathed.
Ichigo let out another tired sigh as he slowly raised his forefinger that was pinched against his thumb, and then squarely flicked Aizen in the forehead, causing him to go soaring backwards with such ferocity, he created a trench in the ground without even touching it.
But within the single second that Aizen traveled miles, he swiftly righted himself and glared heatedly at Ichigo.
For his part, Ichigo gave a cool gaze back and said plainly, “You looked scared.”
The effect was immediate, Aizen’s face morphed with rage and Ichigo’s Sin began twisting out invisible - tendrils of its evil eating away into his old enemy’s spiritual aura.
“Don’t speak to me in that assured tone, Kurosaki Ichigo,” Aizen said with a sneer as he pointed a finger into the sky. “A mere moment of your physical prowess exceeding mine is nothing to gloat about. I will crush you to dust with my Kidō and such a thing will never happen again!”
And Aizen’s pressure doubled in strength and the world around Ichigo began to darken as the furious transcendent began to chant. “Seeping crest of turbidity. Arrogant vessel of lunacy. Boil forth and deny. Grow numb and flicker. Disrupt sleep. Crawling queen of iron. Eternally self-destructing doll of mud. Unite. Repulse. Fill with soil and know your own powerlessness! Hado 90! Kurohitsugi"
And as the black squares of spiritual energy manifested and built themselves into a tall abyssal coffin around him, Ichigo stared calmly as Aizen proudly declared, “Behold, Kurosaki Ichigo! A well of gravity capable of distorting the fabric of space and time, a full incantation of a level ninety Hado backed by an incomprehensible power of that has surpassed all Shinigami and Hollows!”
Ichigo was swallowed whole, all the light in his eyes robbed as everything went pitch black, and he could literally feel the warp of space as it bent around his body, become twisted and knotted. Even by his standard, it was a magnificent display of power and ability.
It’s a shame he never managed to properly learn Kidō when he was a Shinigami, it would have been damn useful. Then again, he was only a Shinto psychopomp for about seven months, it wasn’t like he had ample enough time to master the arcane art.
Though as he felt the swell of Aizen’s Kidō press against him, unlike all those years ago, Ichigo made no attempt to break the spell with a wave of his arm. Quite the opposite, he wanted the spell to hit him in full because he wanted to test his newly rebuilt body against the full might of Aizen’s incantations.
Darkness folded in around him as the coffin sealed, and gravity inverted the space within until the air itself felt dense enough to tear apart solid steel. The pull of the spell gnawed at the ground beneath his feet, stone bent and pulverized until it was torn apart at the atomic level, yet Ichigo stood exactly where he was, unmoved.
He tilted his head slightly, more curious than concerned, feeling the warped space slide over him without purchase. And slowly, he raised his hand with the crushing darkness, flexing his fingers against the pull and strain of the gravitic warp.
Aizen’s greatest incantation fell onto him with all the fury of a collapsing star…
…and Ichigo barely felt anything at all.
That’s good to know, he thought to himself. This new body is much stronger than the old one.
But now that he was assured of his physical durability, it was time to test out the more esoteric aspects of his powers.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, given that Aizen’s spiritual energy actively strained the flow of time itself, but eventually, the darkness began to dim to a grey and the light of the blue sky entered his eyes.
As the black coffin dissipated, Ichigo casually brushed his sword arm of nonexistent dust as he gave a stunned Aizen a casual look. “Is that it?”
The bewildered man looked on in silence, his mouth ever so slightly parted as he stared wide eyed.
With a twist of power, Ichigo folded the distance between them, and he was suddenly standing before Aizen, close enough to see the minute tightening around the man’s eyes. Zangetsu moved once, almost lazily, as there was no grand swing, no flourish. Just a clean, effortless arc.
And Aizen’s left arm separated from his body before the realization even reached his face and, for a moment, nothing happened. Then the severed limb fell through the air, dissolving into drifting spirit particles before it could strike the ground.
His old foe then staggered back a step, stunned more than pained. And then Ichigo brought his power down. A world’s worth of Demonic power that tore through the temporal echo of Soul Society.
The sheer pressure of his presence forced Aizen to his knees with a wild shattering of stone beneath him, the air thickening until even the wind was slammed down into the now blazing earth. And as his power set fire to reality, Ichigo said nothing, he didn’t need to. His gaze alone held the quiet, absolute contempt of someone barely paying attention to a thing beneath them.
And around them, the realm began to fail.
Reishi unraveled like threads cut from a tapestry as the malignant miasma that was axiomatic to his Demonic power stifled the realm. The distant mountains lost their edges, their forms dissolving into drifting ash. The sky dimmed, colors leaching away as reality itself was bled dry.
Distantly, Ichigo could sense it all happening, the inevitable reason why Demons were forbidden from entering the realms of the Dead. Their sheer presence and power automatically corrupted the Human Soul, and the realms of the dead were created from Reishi, spiritual energies.
And Ichigo, whose might was quickly approaching Ajuka’s and Sirzechs’, whose connection to Hell meant his inherent corruption far surpassed theirs, was the walking anathema to all things of the Human soul. He was Satan, the Adversary.
And Soul Society, without a Soul King to protect it, was uniquely vulnerable to his infernal power. Luckily, this was just a temporal graft, nothing more than a fragmented moment being replayed for his benefit.
Ichigo then returned his attention to the kneeling and baffled form of his old enemy.
Aizen disappeared in a glow, reappearing with his arm regrown on a distant cliff overlooking where Ichigo was standing.
“What was it you said before?” he asked, pulling from his mind the words that had enraged Aizen seven years ago. “You asked me before why I backed away from you? Strange that you’re backing away from me now, isn’t?”
“…I see,” and Ichigo eyes were drawn to the faint violet pulse of the jewel at the center of the Hollow-esque hole in Aizen’s chest. And then his voice had dipped low, but Ichigo could sense the seething rage under his tone.
“Do you feel triumphant that you could stop my blade? Do you feel triumphant that you could crush my Kidō? Do you feel triumphant that you’ve managed to wound me, Kurosaki Ichigo?” And then his anger exploded. “Don’t you dare become conceited! You who has traded his soul for alien power!”
Aizen’s spiritual pressure rose exponentially, and just as he remembered, the odd eye-like emblem on his forehead let out a strange crack like noise, and a trickle of blood dripped down across the former Shinigami’s brow.
As the Hōgyoku shone brighter and Aizen was encompassed even further in its strange aura, Ichigo reached out with his Sin, trying to elicit more of Aizen’s rage and hatred. However, surprisingly, the Hōgyoku resisted his efforts, it tried to repel the influence of Wrath's baleful touch.
How curious, Ichigo thought.
But as Aizen let out a yell as his body underwent another evolution, Ichigo pushed Wrath further, trying to brute force his way past the Hōgyoku’s protections and infect Aizen’s soul.
And even as he did so, Aizen’s transformation slowly finished, and he emerged a pale, sinewy abomination that was crouched on one knee, its elongated limbs ending in black talons with his right arm still fused into his Zanpakuto. His once human face had been transformed into smooth, featureless face with skull like teeth lining a long, lipless mouth. Though his mane of flowing brown hair remained.
From behind the creature, several thick wings unfurled, and Ichigo noted the eyes in their membranes and how at crown of those wings, they were tipped with socketless skulls with rows of teeth.
Ichigo’s mouth pressed into a thin line; even after all these years, he found it pitiful that Aizen was willing to transform himself into this monstrosity in his quest to claim the Soul King’s throne.
“Yes,” his voice came out warped. “You think the same, don’t you, Hōgyoku? It’s unforgivable that this failed transcendent get the better of me.”
And one of the skulls on Aizen’s wings opened it’s mouth and gathered an enormous amount of spiritual energy, rapidly spiraling and condensing into a bright blue orb.
Yeah… I remember this part all too well, Ichigo thought to himself as he raised a single hand.
And in an instant, the immensely dense orb of power slammed into the palm of Ichigo’s hand and consumed him in a fiery explosion.
=======
Amaterasu stood at the edge of the still pond in Takamagahara, her reflection unbroken upon its surface. To any lesser eye she might have seemed merely contemplative, gazing into quiet water beneath a sky of impossible gold. In truth, her sight stretched far beyond the mirrored surface, threading through the countless streams of time that branched and rejoined like rivers across eternity.
And in that boundless expanse, she could not find him.
The realization stirred only the faintest tightening at the corner of her lips. Her Son’s absence from the current moment meant only one thing: he had stepped outside the flow of time itself. And in her nigh-omniscient sight of the mortal world, she knew it wasn’t through the meddling of some other immortal, but through his own strength of will.
For a brief instant, a resplendent warmth flickered through her chest, as it had countless times before. The maternal surge of affection and adoration whenever one of her children made great strides and grasped the ring of accomplishment.
But it was swift followed by a profound melancholy.
If he could remove himself from the current of time, then he had grown closer to the moment she could already see approaching: the inevitable clash with her brother.
And in with that realization, lightning split the heavens.
A crack of thunder followed a heartbeat later, and Susanoo appeared beside her in a burst of sparks and laughter, his grin sharp as ever, wild hair still humming with residual storm.
“Dear Elder Sister,” he announced with theatrical delight, “I bring news!”
Amaterasu did not turn. Her gaze remained upon the pond, still scanning the branching paths of fate.
Unbothered, Susanoo continued, folding his arms. “As I feared, all Twenty-Eight Constellations and their Mansions have chosen to side with Dear Elder Brother. The night sky stands united against us.”
“We expected this,” Amaterasu replied softly.
“Yes,” Susanoo admitted, though his grin did not fade, “but expectation does little to soften the blow! I believe Tsukiyomi intends to strike in alignment with whatever calendar has been drawn by the Infinite Ouroboros.”
“A strike across multiple fronts,” she murmured. “Yet Our Father’s mandate still binds us. We cannot draw blade against one another directly. How, then, does Our Twin intend to move against Us?”
Susanoo’s smile sharpened, almost feral. “I am uncertain, the Void’s shade hides Dear Elder Brother from all gazes. But then, undoubtedly, you have seen how he plans to occupy me?”
Amaterasu finally glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “We have. One would almost think you are eager to reenact your mythic moment.”
“Because I am!” And lightning flickered faintly along his shoulders as his grin widened.
Amaterasu exhaled, and with that breath an entire grove of sakura blossomed, petals drifting into existence before dissolving again into light.
“The War in Heaven approaches,” she said quietly. “And it shall end beneath the tolling of Our Son.”
Susanoo laughed, bright and thunderous. “Dearest nephew will have his triumph! Of that I have no doubt.”
But in Amaterasu’s eyes, a deep and ancient sorrow stirred. Yes, Ichigo’s victory would end the war.
But it would also end them and their trinity.
=======
Tatsuki stood frozen amid the shattered street, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon where broken rooftops met a haze of dust and light. She couldn’t see them anymore, but she could the seismic tremors through the earth and the abrupt and violent blasts of wind that swept through the broken city.
The suffocating presence of the long-haired man lingered like a weight on her chest, heavy and wrong, pressing into her lungs every time she tried to breathe. But more than that… it was that festering sense of wrongness that seemed to have come from that thing wearing Ichigo’s face. It coiled its way into the very air and, try as she might, she couldn’t help the disgusted feeling of nausea whenever she took in a breath.
The worst part was, as she cast a glance at the horizon again, they were both very far away now, but those two monsters’ presence still haunted this place. The very realization made her stomach twist.
Beside her, Keigo suddenly doubled over and retched, the sound raw and desperate. Tatsuki jerked toward him instantly while Mizuiro crouched at his other side.
“Hey, hey! Keigo!” Tatsuki snapped, grabbing his shoulder.
Keigo spat onto the pavement and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, face pale and slick with sweat. “I – I can’t stop it,” he gasped as he clawed at his throat with his other hand. “Feels like bile just keeps creeping into my mouth.”
Tatsuki and Mizuiro exchanged a tight look.
“That…” Mizuiro said quietly, eyes still on the horizon, “I don’t think that was Ichigo.”
Keigo stared at him. “Are you kidding me? Did you not feel that? How evil he felt? That other guy was terrifying, sure, but when I looked at Ichigo I- I-”
“Like having every bad feeling I’ve ever had shoved down my throat all at once,” Mizuiro finished, voice low.
Tatsuki nodded grimly.
But then the monstrous and infectious cold suddenly became overwhelmingly hot and searing, and Tatsuki herself felt her stomach near come out her throat. She feel to her knees, as the air choked sick in her lungs. And not just her, the others began to cough and and heave dry breaths as the air tasted vile. Slowly, she looked up, and to her confusion, bits of scattered snow began falling from the sky. A sky that was entirely grey.
Wait...
"It's snowing?" Keigo asked, his expression turning confused as he reached for the falling white.
But then a few flakes fell on her own open hand, and Tatsuki let out a cold breath. It wasn't snow. It was...
"Ash," she said breathlessly.
As she returned her gaze back up, Tatsuki's eyes widened with terror as she realized the tips of the tallest buildings were disintigrating, as if an invisible fire were buring them away.
Then the sky flared.
A brilliant burst of orange erupted in the distance, a colossal pillar of fire clawing upward and splashing color into the grey world. Heat washed over them a second later, dry and searing, followed by a concussive shockwave that slammed into their bodies and hurled them backward.
Tatsuki skidded across the pavement, catching herself with a hand as debris rattled around her. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest as she pushed up onto her knees, staring toward the blazing horizon.
What the hell is going on?
=======
Flames peeled away from Ichigo in slow, drifting ribbons, the inferno guttering out as though it had never truly touched him. Heat, pressure, the screaming collapse of reishi - none of it registered. His bond with Hell ensured that no flame or heat could ever touch him, and the force of the blast, despite Aizen’s impressive power, was still a far cry from what world tearing energies Sirzechs had unleashed when they had battled months ago.
When the smoke thinned, he stood alone at the center of a vast crater, ash settling like gray snow around his shoulders.
Ichigo raised his hand and studied his palm. A faint scorch marked the skin, nothing more. Seven years ago, that same arm had blistered and blackened when he’d tried to block Aizen’s blast. Now the comparison felt almost absurd. He brushed the soot away with his thumb, watching the black smear vanish, and then lifted his gaze.
Aizen hovered above, warped wings spread wide, eyes burning through that monstrous mask of bone and flesh.
“Is that all it did to you?” Aizen said coldly. “Fear not, Kurosaki Ichigo. I can be far more creative.”
He vanished and reappeared in front of him, and Ichigo did nothing and allowed Aizen to clamp his fingers around his throat, just like back then. And once again, history repeated itself as Aizen’s wings folded inward, encircling and centering on Ichigo’s head, and at their tips the skull-like maws opened, gathering a deep, pulsing blue light.
“This is the end for you!” Aizen roared, voice breaking into something manic. “I have no more use for you! With your death, I will have surpassed Shinigami, Hollow — even whatever power you bartered for in that other world!”
Ichigo gave no response save for another twist of power from within his soul, another silent edging as the Sin of Wrath seeped further into Aizen’s psyche, sliding past the Hōgyoku’s glow like oil across water, threading through the currents of the mutated Shinigami’s being as his anger continued to warp and contort.
And with a triumphant and maniacal laugh, Aizen unleashed all the titanic surges of power he had gathered…
Only for them to curve away and fly far into the sky, the complete opposite direction of Ichigo, and detonate miles away in a chain of orange explosions that painted the horizon in fire.
For a long second, Aizen simply stared at the distant blasts, silent and lost.
“…Impossible,” he whispered as he looked on listlessly towards the expanse of fire across the skies of Soul Society. But then, that disbelief quickly churned to furor as Aizen clawed fingers squeezed murderous around his throat. “Impossible! Impossible! What have you done! What did you do! Kurosaki Ichigo! Expl-!!!”
However, Aizen was cut off mid-tirade as the hand and arm that were clamped around Ichigo’s throat began to swell and balloon grotesquely. Aizen quickly let go and backed away, staring aghast as his arm continued to burgeon. And within seconds, it exploded in a shower of gore and demonic energy.
Aizen went perfectly still for several moments before his Reiatsu spiraled out of control, a purplish aura cascading off of him in furious shock waves as it tore the rock around them into dust as he roared in fury.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, KUROSAKI ICHIGO!!!”
The Hōgyoku pulsed in its eerie light, and Aizen’s arm began to regenerate, but at the same time, Aizen’s wings began to balloon in the same fashion, as did his right shoulder and parts of his abdomen.
“NOOOO! WHAT IS THIS!!!”
In his feral fury, Aizen lunged at Ichigo who, completely at odds with the enraged madness of his opponent, casually took a few steps back as he dodged the wild swipes.
“My Sin’s true ability,” Ichigo said calmly, his red eyes peering from under his bangs. And Ichigo stared into those pure white eyes, and he had to admire how the genius mind struggled to assert itself against the insidious bands of rage he had laced into Aizen’s core.
“Anger and hatred come in many forms, Aizen,” Ichigo said and he slowly reached out and set the tips of his fingers where Aizen’s heart would have been. “At the extreme ends, they rob of all reason and create a debased beast, a wild and lawless thing without any thought or direction that mindlessly lashes out. And so, as long as my Demonic power can touch it, there is nothing I can’t enrage, nothing I can’t make go berserk. Even your own power, I can make you lose control of it.”
Aizen stared at him, and Ichigo could see the cogs in his head struggling to turn.
“But that’s not all.” And the tide of demonic energy swelled deeper and darker from within him, and near immediately the reality of Soul Society around their vicinity began to collapse, everything falling and giving way to the Void. “One of the most potent forms of Hatred? It’s hatred of the self.”
And slowly, Ichigo’s fingers dipped past the Hierro carapace that the Hōgyoku had crafted around Aizen, and like a phantom’s touch, he reached into Aizen’s soul. “I can make your own power hate you. Did you ever imagine it? Your own strength turned against you? This is the true power of my Sin of Wrath - Sui Interitus: Self-Annihilation.”
As Aizen continued to balloon and swell, his trembling form exploded with Reiatsu as he screamed out in defiance. “KUROSAKI ICHIGO! I WILL NOT BE DENIED; I WILL NOT BE THWARTED BY A MERE CHILD I’VE HELD IN THE PALM OF MY HAND SINCE YOUR BIRTH! RRRRRAAAAAAAGH!”
Aizen’s voice tore itself raw as he screamed in defiance, Reiatsu boiling off him in violent waves that split the earth and warped the sky. “I WILL NOT YIELD! I AM TRANSCENDENT! I HAVE SURPASSED ALL KNOWN LIMITS! HEED MY WORDS KUROSAKI ICHIGO, I CANNOT BE DEFEATED BY SOME LOWLY HUMAN TURNED D-”
Heedless of his words, Ichigo deftly reached out and his fingers grasped the Hōgyoku that was so desperately fighting to keep his Sin from corrupting Aizen any further, but it was too late. Ichigo twisted the very fabric of Time itself, touching upon those golden threads within his soul and severed all bonds the crystalline orb had with the deteriorating Aizen.
And, with a single, merciless pull, he tore the Hōgyoku free. The moment it left him, Aizen’s body convulsed, swelling grotesquely as unstable power spiraled out of control.
Ichigo then teleported miles away in that very instant, and a heartbeat later, Aizen detonated - a blinding eruption that incinerated the wasteland for miles in every direction.
High above the ruined horizon, Ichigo watched the aftermath unfold in silence. Below him, Aizen’s death bloomed into a violent aurora: a dome of searing light and color swelling outward, devouring mountains, stone, and sky alike. The expanding wave roared like a rampaging dragon, eager to swallow everything in its path.
Ichigo exhaled softly and lifted his hand.
Invisible pressure settled over the blast, his will pressing down until the spreading inferno buckled and curved, forced it away from the distant silhouette of Karakura Town. Temporal echo or not, a version of Yuzu and Karin were down there, as well as his father. He’d be damned before he’d ever allow anything untoward to happen to them.
Only once the destruction was contained did he lower his gaze to the object pinched between his fingers.
The Hōgyoku shimmered faintly.
“You’ve probably figured out what’s happening,” Ichigo said with a single brow raised. “But I needed something strong enough to test this whole new latent divinity thing on. Aizen was just an appetizer.”
The orb brightened in response and Ichigo let out a derisive snort. “You really can understand what I'm saying, can’t you? But don’t worry, I’ve got no desires for the real you. You can stay stuck in Aizen whatever pit Soul Society locked him away in for the rest of eternity for all I care.”
Once more the Hōgyoku burned bright, but it quickly dimmed and quieted, as if accepting its fate.
And on the subject of Fate, Ichigo dug deep into his soul, touching those strands of divinity within, those gilded threads of True Immortality, and his eyes shifted from crimson to molten gold. As he drew on the quiet weight of apotheosized power coiled inside him his aura grew into shades of black and gold, and, with iron focus, he forced the branching chaos of Time to collapse inward, narrowing infinite futures toward one inevitable outcome.
The jewel dulled, its light draining until it became nothing more than a black, lifeless marble, and slowly, the Hōgyoku dissolved away into motes of oblivion.
Ichigo watched the last fading specks drift into nothing, his expression flat as the final trace of its presence vanished from existence. For a moment, he simply sat there in the quiet void of the collapsing temporal pocket, feeling the distant consciousnesses of all the other Souls in Karakura Town… familiar presences. Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro and others.
He knew what they must be going through in the moment. Bad enough they got exposed to Aizen’s overwhelming spiritual energies, but even worse, they had come face to face with a Crown Prince who was just barely restraining his powers and showing open hostility. With their spiritual power, miniscule that they were, it would have been just enough to protect them from going outright mad. But there would still have been negative consequences of being so close to his hostile presence, human that they were. A small part of him considered going back and meeting his old friends, saying something.
But he crushed that sentiment as soon as it was born.
Not everything from the past had to be tangible in the present. It was normal to move forward, to sometimes leave things behind. And he had moved on long ago.
Abandon your fear. Look forward. Move forward and never stop.
The words he lived by, he had no reason to look backwards… which was supremely ironic considering he had just literally recreated a moment of his past to gain a measure of the current him.
With a soft chuckle, Ichigo released the Temporal Magic and allowed this moment of time to dissipate back into the folds of Eternity.
And all the world unraveled.
=======
Back in Infernity
Time folded inward, rushing over him like water draining from a basin, and in the next instant he was back in his bedroom, seated on his bed exactly as he’d left it. The air still smelled faintly of rain. The storm outside hadn’t even advanced a single second.
He rolled his shoulders experimentally, noting the steady hum of power within him. Still at roughly eighty percent. Not even close to the exhaustion he’d suffered after warping Time when he had fought Katerea.
A smile slowly made its way onto his face. Good, I’m stronger now. Much stronger.
A sudden flash of lightning filled the room, and with it, Tiamat appeared at the foot of the bed, rainwater still clinging to her nude skin, her hair plastered to her back in dripping strands. She regarded him for a moment, sapphire eyes peering curiously as he felt her cool touch within their shared mindscape. And quick enough, he felt her sense of approval and pride even as a small smile curved her lips.
“Well done, beloved,” she said softly. “You have accomplished in weeks what others spend centuries chasing.”
Ichigo huffed a quiet laugh. “Thanks.”
With a casual flick of magic, a thick towel appeared in his hands, and he rose to gently drape it over her shoulders, beginning to dry her hair with easy familiarity as the storm rumbled on outside.
He could have simply used magic to dry, Hell, she could have done so before even entering their bedroom. But she knew him too damn well, as if he’d ever give up the chance to have his hands on her.
And Tiamat gingerly lifted her leg and set her foot onto the bed, allowing Ichigo to reach certain places on her body with the towel, and he held back a knowing smirk as she stared down at him, eyes shining with naked want and desire.
Once he was finished and his Dragon stood perfectly dry, Ichigo straightened and Tiamat immediately stepped into him, pressing herself against his body and wrapping her arms around his neck. She pushed a soft but firm kiss to his lips, and then, with a slow rub along his neck and shoulders, her hands came up to cup his face.
“I really am so proud of you, beloved,” she said softly, her ocean blue eyes dancing with emotion. “I am certain, in a century’s time, you will outshine many of the myths and legends that are entrenched in Humanity’s minds. And a thousand years and more to come, your name will be spoken of in all the epics and grand narratives.”
Ichigo held her around the waist and leaned in for another kiss. “Thanks, beautiful. But let’s keep our focus on this year, not the century or millennium to come.”
Tiamat let out a low, throaty purr and then kissed the tip of his nose. “Or, perhaps, we could narrow our considerations for this eve?”
His hands slowly drifted past her waist and onto her perfectly sculpted ass. “Sure,” he smiled against her lips. “Why not… I’ve got nothing on my schedule until tomorrow evening where I’ll be scaring the crap out of a bunch of nobles.”
She let out a hum and then jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Hmm… I must profess, I am enjoying these bouts of viciousness of yours, beloved.”
Ichigo gave a casual shrug. “I can think of a few other things you can enjoy about me.”
And Tiamat let out a delighted sound as Ichigo pressed her down onto the bed.
=======
A/N: Had to go back an reread Ichigo's fight with Aizen to make the proper comparisons and parallels. Aizen really did talk a lot in those chapters, it was kind of funny seeing Ichigo just stare at him quiet.
So yeah, Ichigo has pushed the powers of Sin to a new level, and he has further mastered his powers over Time and taken another step towards apotheosizing. Oh, and Takamagahara is about to devlove into a civil war. Fun times.
Next chapter Ichigo will be doing the long overdue confrontation with Infernity's nobles, expect to see our dear mayor again along his fellow contemporaries from the other cities. And after that, Ichigo starts taking a proactive measure in the fight against Khaos Brigade and the Old Satan Faction, off to war!