NOVEL NEXT Chapter 23: Retorta chapter 17
The next morning, before the grey light of pre-dawn has quite given way to the rising sun, Ichigo's group mobilizes. Even considering their not-inconsiderable numbers, they make it out of the heart of Seireitei without tripping any alarms. Of course, having the assassins on their side makes things a little easier. The reports won't reach the actual First division until the Second deems it.
They've chosen a wide, flat expanse of land between Seireitei and the first district; it's spread out enough that they'll be able to cut loose a little without running into each other, but flat enough and close enough that they'll be able to come to the aid of anyone who needs it.
Shiro thrums in his chest, and Ichigo can feel Ossan and Muramasa responding to the eager spirit's mood, as well. For all that they don't care to fight friends, they also just really like to fight , and they're all riding the high of anticipation.
It's enough to bring a grin to his face.
They have maybe an hour before Seireitei finishes mobilizing, and the general rumble of the preparing combatants rolls through the ground like an oncoming army in its own right. They aren't a ton of fighters. They don't have the thousands that the Gotei can call to arms.
They don't need them.
Ichigo still isn't the best sensor, but even he feels it when Yamamoto bestirs himself to battle. It's like a mountain preparing to erupt, slow and deliberate and all-consuming. All across the battlefield, he can see the others turning toward the gates. Soi Fon, behind him, coordinating the messengers, gives him a wide-eyed look that tells him her instincts are screaming for her to run. They're long past that point, of course, but it's still intimidating as hell--for those of them that aren't Ichigo and Kisuke, anyway.
Just as the pressure becomes nearly unbearable, Ichigo shakes off the boundaries he's placed in his own mind, his reiatsu rising like the ocean itself to meet the incoming onslaught. Across the field, his allies gasp and shake themselves free of the two opposing forces, able to breathe again under the friendlier wash of Ichigo's reiatsu.
Ichigo gauges his own reserves, prods experimentally at Yamamoto's with Ossan's reishi sense, and decides that actual power levels here aren't going to be a problem. Ryuukin Jakka is a tricky sword, though, and its wielder has two millennia of experience under his belt; Ichigo's scant decades aren't going to compare, even spent in combat with a deity with overwhelming power--enough that his and Yamamoto's combined would be scarcely a drop in the bucket against Aizen's former might.
But Ichigo is adaptable , and his learning curve is still off the charts. When power wouldn't do the job, cunning and precision could balance the scales.
Ichigo isn't about to think that Yamamoto doesn't have similar things up his sleeves. What was that saying about old age and treachery…?
No matter. Ichigo can't afford to lose, so he won't. In this, he has no doubt that his drive to win, to survive and protect, will exceed Yamamoto's own to conquer and destroy.
He pulls and twists and Shiro and Ossan materialize in his hands, white and black and perfectly matched. They thrum in time with his heartbeat, eager to meet the challenger in combat. Across the span of the field, figures begin materializing, dropping out of shunpo to stand across the line of battle. It's obvious from the surprise on their faces that they weren't expecting the resistance they're getting.
Shiro laughs at them, in his head, and as if that's the signal, the building tension snaps .
Around him, the combatants surge to meet each other, the crest of a wave breaking on a thrust of rock.
The battle is joined.
Yamamoto, of course, does not take the field immediately. Instead he watches, and waits, and allows his reiatsu to surge more-or-less freely across the plain. Ichigo matches it, holding back the worst of its effects on his side, and indulges Shiro by engaging in a staring contest with Yamamoto's eyebrows while trying to simultaneously monitor the way the scattered matches are going.
Kisuke and Juushiro-Shusui haven't even started fighting yet--he doesn't think either side has even drawn a blade. They're still talking, low and earnest on Shunsui's side and infuriatingly, divertingly lighthearted on Kisuke's. Ichigo knows he's planning on surprising them, the absolute troll, but he also really sort of hopes they push him enough to send him to Bankai. Benihime is a rare beauty of a sword, "not nice" or otherwise, and it's always a treat to see her in proper action. Kisuke's a damn singularity with her, and even Aizen didn't usually care to stick around once she was called. Still, even if Bankai does happen, it'll probably be a while. What else did he expect, sending the wordy pair up against a Kisuke who felt playful?
Shinji, to the surprise of roughly three quarters of the battlefield, does not get flattened in the first thirty seconds of combat with Unohana. Of course, she's old guard, and they tend to favor slow escalation as a means of gauging their opponent, but so is he, and they're actually matching each other blow for blow quite well. Ichigo knows full well that she's capable of a level 90 kido with nothing less than a gesture, or at least her future self was, but he also has a better gauge on Shinji's new abilities than anyone else, possibly including Shinji, and he thinks the former captain will be just fine. Even if he doesn't win, he should be able to stalemate her, and that should keep her entertained enough that she doesn't go looking for more combat.
The three Shibas on the field--Kaien and his wife, Miyako, and Isshin--have formed a whirling trio of death to tear their way through their enemies, and it's honestly kind of terrifying. Luckily, Tessai and Lisa are there, backing each other up with surprisingly fluid teamwork, alternating ranged and close strikes to keep the three busy with their own barriers instead of going to take out anyone else.
Rose and Love have teamed up, which is somewhat less surprising, and they're having fun letting loose against the current Kenpachi, Kiganjo or something. That's also an area of the field that has become rapidly evacuated, much to Ichigo's amusement. Kiganjo doesn't really have anything on Zaraki, not in strength, speed, bloodlust, or honor, but he's still holding his own relatively decently for now, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else.
Closer to Ichigo and the heart of the battlefield, Kensei and Kuchiki Ginrei are facing off. This is the one that he's most concerned about--Kensei is definitely captain-class, and a Visored to boot, but Ginrei is one of the oldest surviving captains, older than anyone except Yamamoto himself, maybe, and that's not something to dismiss on any Shinigami. He doesn't think Kensei will fall to Ginrei, but he might be pushed far enough to take out a mask or a bankai first out of all the combatants.
Well, that's what he's here for.
Unohana smiles at Shinji, and knows it's a little less serene and a little more feral. She's left her hair unbraided today, as long as it ever was, a challenge screamed to the heavens. Today, perhaps, she can be a bit more Kenpachi and a bit less Retsu. She doesn't know why Shinji of all people has chosen to face her, but she's curious. She's never fought the other elder captain, never even sparred with him. She knows his capabilities, roughly, or she knew what they were . He had tricks up his sleeve even then, no doubt--older captains and Rukongai survivors always did--but the Shinji she's facing now bears only a superficial resemblance to the Shinji she would have spoken with a month ago. His reiatsu is completely different, deeper and wilder and denser in a way she finds hard to describe. He doesn't look like the monster C46 would have them destroy, certainly, but she can feel traces of it in his reiatsu. Not uncontrolled, no, but there nonetheless, ruthless and boiling and just as eager for this fight as she is.
She salutes him, an ancient warrior's gesture, and is surprised and pleased when he returns it without hesitation. Retsu readies her blade in front of her, shows him her teeth, and waits.
He does not disappoint. An instant later, she's whipping her blade up to block a series of lightning-fast thrusts. Almost conversationally, he says,
"I hear ya could be called the founder of the art of zanjutsu. How about let's test that out a little, shall we?"
Oh, this is going to be fun .