Killer Circus [Ichigo, Rose]

For a few moments, there was only silence. Ichigo looked down at his own hands, the whole of the situation leaving him only confused. No, this wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. Flesh that had long been stained bone-white was once again healthy; black wrapped around his own arm in a manner he had not seen in 100 years. He stared at his own body for only a few moments, until he heard a voice behind him that he had not intended to ever hear again.

A voice that had, in so many ways, been a herald of the end for his life.


"So in the end, this is all you amounted to without my hand in your life. Do you think this would have happened, if you had simply stood aside?”

Fury welled inside Ichigo to a degree it had not in a century. To a degree, perhaps, that it never had. He had killed this man, had taken out that threat to the Soul Society and to the entire world-

But, could he say that the man was wrong? Could Ichigo, in any good conscience, say that the world was better off now, in the aftermath of that victory? Everything had tumbled down after that final confrontation. No, he couldn’t waste time with thoughts like that. This was simply one more thing to cut down, whether it was reality or mere memory. He raised his arm, more tired than he could recall being, yet before he swung another voice rang through his ears.


“I guess it isn’t so surprising to see you fight alongside your old enemies. It naturally follows that you’d fight against your old friends, too.”

No, it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t about enemies or friends. It was about the life that they’d had back then, didn’t he understand that? Surely he would, the one who had always been willing to make sacrifices. But he had never built such a mountain of corpses as Ichigo had. How many had died from Ichigo’s rampage after death? How many had died because of his own failure 100 years ago? There were so many dead, and Ichigo understood he couldn’t save them all. Shouldn’t he at least save the one that he needed to save the most?


“‘If there’s something you want to protect with your life, I’ll protect it with my life.’ I never forgot that promise.”

That wasn’t the same, that wasn’t the same at all. Ichigo’s hand trembled as it tightened around Zangetsu, but he would not fall no matter who told him he was wrong, no matter who he was forced to walk against. He had failed everyone; his own friends, all those he loved and held dear. But Orihime was still there. If he kept walking this path, if he simply dragged himself to the end of this road, then surely he could put everything back together in time. The one thing he couldn’t do, after all, was turn back the clock, but couldn’t those deaths on his hands be justified?


“I know you’ll do the right thing, Ichigo.”

There was only one voice which ever could have pierced to the depths of Ichigo’s being so totally. All of those sins could be pushed aside in the face of everyone else; but he could never face her and say that he’d done right. He could never face her at all, having walked this road. Zangetsu fell unceremoniously from Ichigo’s hand, as he collapsed to his knees, unwilling, unable to fight back when confronted by that failure. He stared up to the sky for a moment, unconcerned even with the fate that may well have been coming now for him, and he howled with such grief, such intensity, that the wail echoed through all the Seireitei.

There was no rage in that sound. There was no strength, no dominance. Only the purest sorrow a soul could know.

The intensity of the angelic music continued to rise as Ichigo's advance slowed, his anger fading as the ghosts of his past clung to him. Each one of them became another great weight that would hold the former hero in place for this execution. Rose could not see them, no one else could, but he was familiar with the sensation. He had once been held in such a state of grim repose, where it felt like the world was simply moving on without you and yet you were powerless to escape your own failings. It was an inescapable mire, in which one could only sink deeper when one struggled against it.

With another wave of his baton, the dancers changed formation again. Into a line between Rose and the wailing Ichigo. In their arms, which had before been little more than empty husks, elongated blades formed and, though they were phantasms inside his mind, those weapons would hurt all the same as they began to step forwards and impale the Arrancar. Every thrust was accompanied by a new chord, and that resonance dragged Ichigo back into this reality piece by piece until he was finally kneeling before Rose himself.

"You might not be able to hear me, Kurosaki, but I will shed a tear for you too."

Kinshara raised up into the air, the baton now a sword once more, as the Captain prepared to mete out the justice that he had promised. It was an unceremonious end, his opponent already down and beaten, but Rose could not falter. This was the purpose with which he had been charged, the duty that the Captain Commander had trusted to none more than him, so he would not fail her. Even if some grim fate had already befallen her, this was the end.

"Let this be your curtain call."

The air hummed with the rising tension, Rose's blade arcing downwards as he poured every last drop of his soul into this one final strike. There would be no joyous songs sung of this day, it was stained with the blood of so many of his dear comrades. The fresh faces that might one day have taken his place and yet now were little more than dust beneath the feet of these invaders. But he would have vengeance for them all now, it was not a fair trade but it was a small step in that direction.

That was all quite well and true, until everything went crimson.

The music stopped abruptly, cut short with a record scratch just as the Captain was cut short from delivering his death blow. For a moment, perhaps, Ichigo might have believed that Rose had stopped of his own accord given how sudden it all was. But then the slender tip of a blade slowly emerged from Rose's chest, accompanied by a blast of crimson energy that propelled the Vizard over Ichigo and blasted him into one of the ruined buildings with an unceremonious crunch and a spray of gore.

From the thin air that had appeared vacant only moments before, Kisuke appeared with one hand holding onto the sword that had just incapacitated Rose and the other clutching a briefcase to his chest. Wasting little time, he sheathed his sword and turned to offer Ichigo a hand back to his feet.

"My my, Ichigo, that was a close one. But at least your distraction was not for nought, we have all that we need from here."

Casting a glance towards the loot that he carried, the enigmatic gale turned to scan their surroundings before gazing up towards the sky. It was time for them to leave, this fight was over.

For a few moments, Ichigo could hardly even think to respond. It wasn't simply that he had accepted his defeat; he could never give up on this road he meant to walk. But the grief that had been inflicted upon him by the Captain's bankai was not easily overcome, not after having seen those faces and heard those voices again. Yet he was cognizant enough, at least, to understand that he had been saved from certain death. His release came to an end as he stood once more, taking hold of his zanpakuto with his one remaining arm before looking to Urahara with hollow eyes.

"Then let's go."

If Urahara had brought them, then that was all that he needed here. Ichigo had no interest in fighting further, he had no desire to stay here any longer than was necessary. These bouts had been out of necessity, and he had little more desire than to return to the quiet of Hueco Mundo at this particular moment. He looked to the side, a hand cutting open a garganta, and waited for Urahara to leave first, before he in turn followed and closed it behind him.