The Heart [Ichigo, Komamura]

Kokujo Tengen Myo'o's seeming exhaustion, in Ichigo's eyes, made this bout far easier for him to win. He had expended no small amount of energy, but Ichigo Kurosaki was not a man who tired in any traditional sense. He was still perfectly ready to keep fighting, and though the extreme drawing in of spiritual power was something that caught Ichigo's attention, the antithetical nature of it evoked only further incentive to kill what was before him.

Speed was his forte; the extreme physical enhancements of his release made it all the moreso. Only by way of the pressure of Komamura's alien presence did Ichigo not effortlessly evade the strikes, and even with that difference, Ichigo still stepped away from the catastrophic impacts, the shockwaves cracking his hierro yet again, but not to the same degree that Kokujo Tengen Myo'o itself had managed. Crimson energy swirled around the blade of his zanpakuto, but the Arrancar had no intention of launching another crescent at any range.

He would not accept a loss.

He could not accept a loss.

Static filled the air as he stepped countless times, the Getsuga Tenshou empowered sword cutting toward his opponent dozens of times. The speed at which Ichigo moved was unthinkable; it had always been his greatest physical trait, and now, his hollow nature brought to the forefront of his being, it was raised to an otherworldly level. He would overpower this foe now, before anything else might happen.

It wasn't desperation that pushed Komamura to fight, but urgency. He understood well there was not much time between now and his defeat because of the gambit he pulled with Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō, and so as his Zanpakuto rose to meet, often just barely, Ichigo's own, every ounce and fiber of his being was put into the battle. Into not just defeating Ichigo, a man who once, as little more than a boy, saved Soul Society, but into killing him.

If Sajin's strikes had been a series of earth-shattering quakes, Ichigo's assault was a tempest. The Reishi enveloping that sword made it heavy, with each clash wearing upon the retired Captain. It was only between the combined efforts of his own sword, gauntlets, and empowered durability that he was not torn to shreds like paper against steel. Yet the wear and tear added up, and Sajin suddenly found himself disadvantaged and on the back foot, something he knew would spell his certain doom as it had for most of his foe's enemies.

Yet for every wound he sustained, of which there were many, Sajin Komamura did not falter, he did not retreat, and he did not believe he would lose. Ichigo could pierce and cut him a thousand times and it would not be enough. Even as his fur and clothes became more and more blood soaked, Sajin's eyes saw only victory. A warrior who imagines his own defeat is destined to lose; Genryūsai-dono taught him that, and they were not words he would idly forget.

Upon Ichigo's blade cutting particularly deep through his chest, Komamura roared as his left hand shot out with all the speed Ichigo's own Reishi attacks had gifted him; it was in this instant he sought to grab the Arrancar's sword arm, and through his crushing grip shatter every bone, tear every ligament, and utterly destroy the outstretched limb. Sajin would not be satisfied with grasping at empty air should Ichigo avoid him however, and followed up with a brutal slash meant to cleave through not just his Hierro, but Ichigo's entire chest. Pain may rock his body and blood may drip from every gaping wound, but Sajin's eyes blazed with unwavering resolve.

So be it.

Ichigo understood the flow of battle; he understood the necessity of wounds, understood how to capitalize on an opening even at the cost of his own well-being. He'd learned that across all of his battles, but even before that, he'd always had an instinctive understanding. He didn't dare release his sword, and instead, he finally unleashed the Getsuga Tenshou that had wreathed his sword, knowing now that it was buried in the man's chest. The destruction of his arm meant nothing to Ichigo. He could find the means to replace it, one way or another.

As Komamura's slash cut toward him, Ichigo didn't dare let him finish such a thing, at least without paying for it in equal measure. Black pooled between his horns once more, and all at once, Ichigo let loose a torrent of killing intent. Desperation pushed him onward; he would not lose again. A man such as him, who had always been described as a fountain of reiryoku without end, would simply let this wave of destruction continue until his opponent fell, or until he was forced to stop. Whether Komamura's blade cut into his chest mattered little to him now, his empty heart just one more part of his body to be repaired later, for he was consumed entirely by that singular aim-

To save her. At any cost.

Was this to be the fate of Soul Society? A never ending cycle of friends betraying friends, tormented by enemies within and without? What was justice in such a world? Komamura felt tortured, his questions always refused their answers. Would the peace Tōsen dreamed of, the one Genryūsai-dono died for, never come?

The wound Sajin had willingly accepted as a necessarily sacrifice became engulfed in Reishi, a searing pain unlike anything he had felt in a century rocking his body like a ship dashed against rocks. But his grip did not recoil from Ichigo's arm, and his sword did not budge from his chest. Once more and it would end. The end of war was within sight. Just one more heave and his sword would split Ichigo like a log...

In a blink Komamura was swallowed by darkness, capsized beneath the waves of Ichigo's attack. Breath could not fill his lungs and for only half a second, half a second too long, he felt his grip loosen and victory escaped his grasp. No matter how much he willed himself to move forward, Sajin's feet could not find purchase; and soon empty air beneath him gave way to desolate earth. He lie beneath the dark sky, its moon and stars illuminating crimson rivers that flowed without pause from his rent body.

He had lost.

The remains of Sōkyoku Hill shook as Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō rose to its feet, the drumbeat of its heart a faint percussion. It could not think for itself; after all, it was not Tenken made manifest, only an exertion of its power. Yet it gripped its colossal sword tight, raised it up in defiance of the night's dark, and swung it with one final effort to crush Sajin's enemy as if its heartbeat was proof of its will.

One strike was all the giant figure had left, and upon expending its final dregs of life it fell to its knees, once more shaking the Seireitei at its foundations, and vanished without a trace. Its battle scars were reflected upon Komamura, who was inflicted with his Zanpakuto's suffering as the Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō: Kamikakutsusuji technique came to an undignified end. Wounds and burns appeared upon his already-tattered body, but he was already beyond noticing the accompanying pain. Visions appeared before him, the backs of Tōsen, Genryūsai-dono, and a young Ichigo filled his sight. He reached for them, and then came darkness.