A Lost Soul Returns (Private)

[Gahrok]

Gahrok wiped his lips as he tossed an empty bottle of gin into the nearest alleyway, not wincing at the smash and accompanying scream of some poor homeless resident. He looked around with squinted, jaded eyes… nothing had changed about the stinking place. Never in a million years… had he thought he would come back. But here he was, it would have pained him to see the sights of his past if it didn’t anger him so throroughly. He heard the squeal of his hollow, it was laughing at him.. it always did, contemptable thing. No, that wasn’t the reason he was here, it didn’t yet have such a hold of him. This was for himself, Gahrok told himself adamantly, wishing the fact to be true and knowing it wasn’t.

Justice, wasn’t that what he’d called it? Yes it was. Funny how people gave lies such pretty names. As he stumbled through the streets he chuckled darkly to himself as the fallacy was made clear to him by the abject poverty and misery of the residents around him. He had been just like them. Gahrok spat into the streets, tempted to wave his middle finger to the heavens and scream obscenities till his lungs ran dry. It wouldn’t be worth it he told himself, infact he was already out of breath. He stopped for a second leaning up against the wall of a run down old building, its parched yellow walls giving out a sickly sigh as he rested his weight against them. Wincing Gahrok clutched at his side, it was wet. He brought his hand up to his eyes and grimaced at the sight… blood. ”Fuck..”. It had been the gate guards, he thought he had gotten by their kido unscathed… it appeared that he was wrong.

His eyes clouded over however, forgettin the pain and the annoyance of his little wound. Black, it clouded his vision, black and white. The colors of those fallen angels that called themselves shinigami. Red mist clouded his gaze, Masaru’s face was on each of the three shinigami in front of him. He stepped forward casually, his hand tapping his side with uncharacteristic joviality. ”To what do I owe the pleasure… of your visit Masaru. It wasn’t enough last time.. to leave me in the fucking dirt?” he screamed the last words, his face contorting in a grotesque visualization of the rage that festered inside of his heart.

There was the familiar clink and rusty swish of drawing swords, he heard none of it. Gahrok was talking to Masaru… Masaru was right there in-front of him. ”Tell him how you feel… weakling, that’s it, tell him how hurt your little feelings are that he beat you. Why didn’t you just stay on the ground, you lost your wings a long time ago…”

SHUTTUP, SHUT THE HELL UP”screamed Gahrok, his madness and confusion overwhelming his senses until all that was left was a mass of red and his throbbing temple. When he opened his eyes and stopped screaming infront of him was a balding old shinigami, gasping for air. “What…” whispered Gahrok slowly, disbelief sinking in as his stomach dropped a mile. It wasn’t Masaru. Gahrok looked slowly downwards, his vivid green orbs searching for the reason the man was so clearly in pain, and he gasped when he found it. His fist… was through the mans heart, his whole arm had gone through the very skin, flesh and bone of the shinigami. Gahrok began to tremble… never before, never had he killed one of his… “What… one of your own? Was that what your were going to say cackled the hollow Oh but he’s not one of your own anymore Gahrok, how easily do you forget your betrayal of everything…

Gahroks lips curled and he barred his teeth, the wind picking up subtly all around the streetcorner, and slowly raising in velocity till a mini whirl-wind surrounded the intruding vaizard. The screams of residents could be heard, and the yelling of the two shinigami as they tried to get things under control. But neither of the cowardly men dared confront the lunatic who had just gutted their comrade with one blow. “This is my power.. not yours, this is my mind not YOURS!” Gahrok pulled his fist out of the man and kicked the corpse away, the man jerked in his dying throes as his body flew from Gahrok’s deadly embrace.

”I’ve come to finish this Masaru.” he whispered, his eyes beginning to cloud over once more, his speech wild and erratic, the reflections of his shattered mind. “You preyed upon me when I was down, now one of us has to die. You didn’t finish the damn job, and you left me to live in this hell… you bastard, you cruel cold hearted BASTARD!” Gahrok heaved with violent breaths as his anger consumed him. He looked around him, nothing could be seen past the violent winds that encompassed him. Where was he? Why did he hide… the challenge had been offered, the deal had been made. Why did he insult him so… to let him live when he deserved to die. ”MASARU… COME… COME AND DIE WITH ME” the bloodcurtling yell could be heard far across rukongai, echoing hauntingly down every street as if the words themselves hunted Gahrok’s opponent.

[Harmony]

Masaru held his trembling hand before his face, cold hazel eyes transfixed on fingertips where only moments before a hell butterfly had been perched. Disbelief flooded his face, but he could not help how his heart plummeted to his feet.

Gahrok had entered soul society.

He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. They fucked him over, that's all there was to it. Soul Society pigs sending him to take care of it... what fun they must think it is! He laughed bitterly, both hands slowly closing into clenching fists. It was a cruel joke and he despised all of them. Oh how he hated them at that moment! Each damned day of his life he dealt with the sarcastic comments and scrutinizing glares. He chocked back angry insults and swallowed them like rocks. He was a nothing more to them than a goddamn punching bag for verbal abuse, and now they had stepped over the line. To send him... to send him to that man... it was unforgivable.

His face cracked in an ugly expression stuck somewhere between a smirk and a grimace, and he placed a hand firmly on the hilt of his dagger-like Zanpakuto. Every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation...

...anticipation for the worst day of his sorry life.

With a sharp sigh, Masaru flash stepped away in a rush of wind as he began searching for this phantom of his past. He had left the pitiful creature in the dirt last time, and that's where he belonged, dammit! No more of this shit. He knew however in the pit of his rage that so long as Gahrok was alive, the trauma would never end. That man would plague him until the very end when he wheezed his very last spiteful breath.

An unsettling truth struck him despite this: He could not kill this man.
Would Gahrok then haunt him for the rest of his days?

He dared not seek the answer.

As Masaru entered Rukongai he immediately felt tension thick in the air, and the hairs on his arms and back of his neck stood on end. Gahrok was there... The light breeze was laced with his toxic reiatsu and Masaru winced. There was something distorted about Gahrok's essence... His thoughts plunged deep into the night at the park, when Masaru saw the evil within Gahrok manifest before him. An ungly twisting feeling seized his stomach and for a brief second Masaru found himself concerned for his former comrade... Was it truly still Gahrok, or was it the hopeless shell of a man conquered by evil?

An all too familiar voice pierced into Masaru like one thousand blades, and he stumbled as though he were truly wounded.

”MASARU… COME… COME AND DIE WITH ME”

His throat ran dry in fear. Masaru was unafraid of both pain and death, but what he did fear was what he would see when he arrived...

Shaking his head sharply, Masaru flash stepped again, reappearing only a few feet away from the broken man. The sight of him was indeed shocking, but at the sight of the dead Shinigami, Masaru's face was a distortion of pure disgust and anger. He was utterly appalled and disappointed by this discovery, and he quickly drew Hiketsu from her sheath.

"I've come to bury you"

His gaze betrayed not a single fear or doubt; only hatred and rage seemed to dance in the dark hazel pools. Gahrok was no longer forgivable; he had become a monster, he had become the very thing that Masaru pitted his life against. There was no room for second thoughts or going back.

[Gahrok]

The winds stopped as Gahrok’s head turned, his deep green eyes losing their hatred for a flickering fading second as they met the ferocious gaze of his comrade of old. A pain stronger then anything he had ever felt ripped through him. It consumed him, tore him apart, the loss of all that he had once been… all that they had once been. The scattered leaves that had been blowing in the furious gale all began to fall, gathering once more in the silent and drab street corners. And Gahrok shifted slowly, turning his body to face Masaru, his face valiantly fighting to conceal the hurt in his heart. What a way to end it all. He looked down, his eyes roaming the body of the shinigami he had gutted loathly with disgust. “Are these my hands?” he thought to himself as he raised the trembling bloody digits to his face, his clouded mind had cleared and in his temporary lapse in insanity his heart was filled with the pain that only his rampages had ever numbed. “These aren’t the hands of Gahrok. Not anymore.”

You are right…. those are my hands…”

Gahrok blinked, a grimace tearing its way across his features as he shook his head once, solidly and determinedly. He would not die a consumed man, freedom at least would ease the pain of the dirtied slate that was his life. Gahrok’s eyes held a familiar burden, a familiar sorrow as they met the gaze of Masaru, his lips in the faded line that typified the solidarity and severe nature of his past life. For a second he was that old Gahrok. Bowing his hind he let it all rush back, the memories, those days that had torn up his soul. They flew by like a never ending river: the fight with Desperado, the betrayal of Masaru… he winced at the pain… and then there was, the final thing, the betrayal of the world.

Gahrok raised his head once more, his green eyes feral and his lips curled into a devilish grin. ”Will you show him?” hissed the demon, “Will you show him that you are not powerless, that you still have the will to fight?”. Gahrok clenched his fists, and they began to slowly turn white from the pressure. “Or do I have to show him for you? it whispered quietly, no hint of laughter in the screech of the usually sarcastic hollow.

Gahrok opened his mouth a slow growl ushered from the fiery pit of his soul. And then it turned…. in a split second… into a high pitched synthesized scream, and the taint of the hollow could be heard visibly. It pierced the air with its ferocity, vibrating off the run down walls and cracked concrete. Panting, Gahrok sneered at Masaru. “Bury ME?” he screeched, his voice no longer human. Slowly the white of his mask began to collect along the lines of his features, clawing its way hideously across the left side of his face. “Nothing will bury me.” he snarled, his face now half covered with the hollow mask. “Not until I’m done. No, Masaru, not until this has been finished.” the last words were in a surprisingly calm voice, the voice of a dying Captain, a dying breed… a dying man. The words of Gahrok, before the madness consumed all.
The winds picked up again all at once, tearing up the area around the two warriors and isolating them from the surrounding landscape in a haze of dark reiatsu. “The only other one who betrayed me… I put her to DEATH. That’s right Masaru… you aren’t the only little maggot to cross me. It seems the whole worlds on your side these days….. but you are not above me… you are not above retribution! You are not above us!” the words carried the taint of the hollow, Gahrok’s voice now lost admist the shrieking howling beast. It had been the first time he had spoke of her. Smirking as if his words held some sort of definitive conclusion as to the clear victor, Gahrok furiously punched the air with his right fist, sending a concussive and explosive ball of compressed air flying towards his opponent. Barely given a moment to relish in the thrill of the ensuing fight, Gahrok clutched a head to the masked side of his head, screaming in pain and stumbling to the side. He was losing the battle with himself. Jerkily flicking his head and hair aside, he arose once more with a defiant stare, his erratic actions indicative of his internal struggle for control. His eyes intensified in their stare as he threw a left jab at gut level, sending another blast flying at Masaru.

Behind the brilliant green eyes, Gahrok could no longer be seen.

[Harmony]

A shadow fell over the area, and Masaru's heavy gaze lost its intensity for a brief moment as he beheld the fallen angel that was once very much like his guardian. He thought back in disgust to the way he used to feel around this person that impacted his life so greatly. Back then he believed he would follow Gahrok into the very depths of Hueco Mundo and back if only for the chance to prove he was his loyal friend. He had given his all until the very end... when... he, Masaru, failed.

Was this all his fault?

He watched wordlessly as the broken man stared in disbelief at his bloodied fingers and he felt his heart twisting. Was there a glimmer of regret in those crazed green eyes? His dry throat formed a lump as Masaru dared to empathize in that instant. It was dangerous and he felt condemned, as though he were doing the entirety of Soul Society an injustice by even hesitating to strike his opponent down another moment. But, how could his shell not crack in the face of such suffering? He tried feebly to understand the pain Gahrok must endure... to share his soul with such a wretched creature... To lose sight of all he ever fought for, to lose all he had ever hoped for... he had been reduced to a being without purpose and without friends. Only his shadow accompanied him in this lonely valley that was his life, and in this losing battle for dominance, Gahrok was alone. Masaru's eyes closed slowly as the world faded around him, and he imagined hearing that voice tearing into him every moment of his life... to always have to second guess himself... He gulped down all his hatred in the sudden understanding he had reached and instead struggled to replace it with the all too painful knowledge that Gahrok was not an enemy to despise, but a unfortunate soul that needed to be destroyed, before he destroyed himself and everyone around him.

A piercing scream interrupted Masaru's thoughts with a jolt, and he clenched his jaw. He had to harden his heart, and bury this man. He felt so heavy however, even in the face of the threatening display of his opponent. Yes, Masaru still had a grudge, yes, Masaru still wanted peace and closure, but never had he desired the end of Gahrok. Despite all that Gahrok had stolen from him, Masaru was strong because of the things Gahrok had given him...

He thought back bitterly to the battle with Desperado. He had been a fumbling fool back then... a desperate boy with the desire to become a man, and Gahrok had showed him how to become just that. He filled Masaru's head with talk of justice, something that Masaru hardly grasped, but felt he understood...

A small shudder ran through him, but only one. It was as though he were shrugging away the life he once knew. It was time to become cold to the world, it was time to summon the resolve and drive to finish this man. His hand tightened around Hiketsu, his silent and unhappy partner, the only friend he had left.

With her in hand, he would cut down Gahrok for good. And, then no more would he haunt Masaru's every thought. The bone white of a hollow mask formed across Gahrok's features, and he grimaced at a wicked thought: A phantom without a face is easier to destroy.

“Bury ME? Nothing will bury me. Not until I’m done. No, Masaru, not until this has been finished. The only other one who betrayed me… I put her to DEATH. That’s right Masaru… you aren’t the only little maggot to cross me. It seems the whole worlds on your side these days….. but you are not above me… you are not above retribution! You are not above us!” ”

Masaru felt a wave of wind blast into him, and he struggled to breathe, taking a single step back. The subject of betrayal held its sting, but Masaru took it with a wicked grin. He thrust his head forward, his ferocious eyes narrowing, "I will Finish this" he growled, "And we will be tormented no longer"

A wicked grin formed on his face as he pushed away his pity, his troublesome empathy... He was there on the battlefield facing an enemy that could take his life, and he loved it. He needed it all. He laughed a little as he felt Gahrok's tainted reiatsu compress around him, his voice growing thin in his lack of breath.

As the comet of wind rocketed towards him, Masaru sidestepped, his eyes growing wide in surprise as he beheld the magnitude of its power... Gahrok was unbelievably strong... "Yes," thought Masaru darkly, "That creature inside him has made him strong indeed"

There was a scream and Masaru watched as Gahrok put a trembling hand to his face. The internal battle for dominance was showing through and Masaru could do nothing but stare as his former Captain stumbled and jerked in his trauma. He was so captured by the sight that the second attack caught him off-guard and he was hit square in the stomach.

The pain was indescribable, much like how a small child would feel after being hit by a hurtling bowling ball. Brown eyes widened and stared blankly as his world spiraled around him... was he falling? He placed a shaking hand to his abdomen, and coughed, falling to one knee. "Bastard"

He glanced up weakly before forcing himself to his feet. It had grown numb, but each shallow breath tore through him in such a way that Masaru feared he had gained a broken rib or two. How the hell was there so much power in a single blow?

He had to push past it. His body didn't matter in the end, no matter how broken... all that mattered was the task at hand, and Masaru dashed forward, slashing furiously at his opponent while simultaneously realeasing his own reiatsu. A great whirlwind surrounded the wretched men, and Masaru broke into a raspy laugh. He did not fear pain nor death.

[Gahrok]

The landscape was pure black, no light entered that terrible place. Gahrok walked the path in front of him with meditative silence, the worn pavement traveled on and on. It was the only thing that adorned this blank and black expanse of land. There was only one road in the mind of Gahrok, and you could never turn back. One foot at a time he walked slowly down the road, his head bowed in shame.. in loss.. in grief. It had been so long since he had entered these walls, and now he had been caged within them, a prisoner of his own body… of his own mind. Abruptly he stopped and opened his eyes as if he had sensed some presence. “Come out.” he snarled, “Come out and fucking FIGHT me” he roared into the abyss in front of him where the path had ended. A small cackle reverberated around Gahrok, coming at him from all directions and he vainly moved his head around searching for the source of the sound.

The white mask quickly spread across the left-hand side of Gahrok’s facial features, and in a matter of moments enveloped them completely. Another high pitched scream rent the air as Gahrok began to pound his fists infront of him in an unmitigated fervor, sending tens of concussive blasts towards his opponent. His hands became a mechanic blur.

“Oh but this is not a fight you want to enter into little Gahrok…. It will be your last. Take some time for goodbye’s, for reflection, this is forever more MY body…. Wave good BYE” on the last word the flickering sound of a flash step could be heard and a footstep. Gahrok could feel it, it was behind him. He clenched his fists, hatred filling his heart… this was the being,.. the thing that had ruined everything. Gahrok turned his fist raised and his eyes a whirling tidal pool of hatred and fury. He stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth agape. The thing…. it was no hideous creature, no monstrous demon… the thing, it was HIM! “No… stuttered Gahrok, taking a step back onto the pavement. The backside of the last concrete panel crumbled a little, sending pebbles of the grayish slab sliding into the lightless abyss below. An inhuman grin plastered itself across the hollow and Gahrok took in a ragged in breath. All this time… his own worst enemy, had really been as much a part of him… as HE was. Who was Gahrok even? Who was he? What was left of the man who had once been, nothing. Maybe it was right… maybe it was the true leader. The putrid little thing even looked more like the true Gahrok then he did, Gahrok thought to himself in horrid astonishment. It wore his old shinigami uniform, even had his old spiky short hair… and at its side, the sword which he had so long ago lost.

Shaking its head furiously from side to side, the being that had been Gahrok continued its pained squeal and clutched its hands to its head. The white bony hollow armor had slowly begun to extend down his spine and a skeletal tail had begun to sprout. It stopped and stared down its opponent, dropping suddenly and without warning to all fours. Its tail took shape with alarming speed, the hollow mask material moving down his spine like a river, solidifying into a bony exoskeleton as it went. It rose its head into the air and howled, a bone chilling thing to witness, the synthesized screech of the hollow howl would have no doubt even scared off a wolf.

“Wolfe…” Gahrok said breathlessly as he stared at his long lost Zanpaktou. There was so many things he wished he could say to it, so much he had learned… would it be too late… was it really the end? Noticing Gahrok eying the sword the hollow stepped forward, cocking his head in a mockingly quizzical fashion. The rusty and dull screech of an old sword being pulled filled Gahrok’s senses and he gave a low growl. That sword… that goddamn sword, was HIS and his alone. “He’s not yours.” Gahrok raised his fists and spat on the ground in front of him. “And neither is all of THIS” he screamed. “This isn’t for Nanna, this isn’t for Masaru… this is for ME” he whispered quietly to himself. This time, there was no fight, but the fight to live… to gain back what had once been.

The wolfish being which had previously been pawing the ground and eyeing down Masaru with a wary predatory glare suddenly stopped, backing up slowly as if in fear of some unknown enemy. But in a second the fear was gone and once more the growling predator eyed Masara. It’s front limbs were now nearly fully formed. The white skeleton started with the claws and was slowly creeping its way up to meet where the face mask, which had itself already started to drip down and solidify its gruesome transformation across the width of Gahrok’s neck.

This time Gahrok did not yell, did not scream, didn’t even say a word. The fire had not kindled in his eyes, it had died. He was calm, he was ready. Ready to live or die, but he would no longer live trapped… broken… rather he should fight and die then continue drowning in a pool of his own self pity and loathing. And then he did a very strange thing, a thing that had not been seen for many years in such context. Gahrok gave a grin to match his hollow counterparts. He flashed stepped with his fist wound up straight in front of the thing, his teeth barred, he sent a right jab straight for its face. The vision of the old Gahrok caught the punch and dragged him bodily in by the end of his fist so that his ear was aligned with it’s mouth. “Listen carefully, you have no weapons here. You have no power here! You are nothing but a phantom Gahrok, a ghost of a time long gone… and apparitions aren’t meant to last…” ending its sentence with an unsavory his the hollow brought Wolfe fully out of its case in one quick motion, stabbing Gahrok’s stomach roughly with the but end of the sword.

Gasping and spluttering for air Gahrok began to fall backwards as the hollow let go of his formerly captive hand. He felt himself slipping into the abyss as he lost his balance, the pain in his gut nearly blinding him. But just as he felt he was about to fall the hollow caught him by his shirt collar, breathing condescendingly down his neck with a crooked smile. “All talk as always…. It picked him up and hurled him roughly across the concrete path behind him. Gahrok landed with a sickening thud and rolled over onto his side groaning, coughing violently and staining the pavement red. The hollow walked forward, it was far from done.

With its frown legs now completely transformed the wolf gave a horrendous howl, it was a victory cry. Without warning it pounced upon Masaru, wind eschewing furiously from its every pore. All around the wolf an internal hurricane raged, and such was its fury that to get near it would spell an immense amount of laceration and pain. The hunt had begun.

[Harmony]

Masaru's turbulent assault slowed as he watched the white shell expand across his opponents face before completely enveloping it. He had never witnessed such things before and in the pit of his racing heart, he felt something like concern take root for his old friend. Was this the end of Gahrok? Blinking in shock, Masaru contemplated the scene as it unfolded before him, lost in the thought that perhaps the last Masaru would ever see of Gahrok was that face twisting in agony before being swallowed by a nightmare.

He thought back yet again to their last meeting in the park, when he heard Gahrok denounce all that he once believed in.. he had said that Justice no longer existed... and Masaru had agreed with him. In such a simple exchange of words, his perspective of Gahrok changed so radically that he could not truly feel that Gahrok was still the same man. Time gave way to bitterness and bitterness gave way to spite. Is that what happened to Gahrok?

A high piercing screech cut through Masaru's thoughts. Ears ringing, he watched motionlessly as the white material continued to form on Gahrok's body, and as the creature dropped to all fours, the screech transformed into a heart wrenching howl. Tremors spread through the captain's body... an irrational fear gripping him. All thoughts of pity and concern melted, and were replaced with raw instinct. He felt like prey in a lion's shadow. His hold on Hiketsu's hilt tightened.

"Stike Hike-"

He was interrupted by a sharp blow to the chest, and he fell backwards, hitting the ground with a hard thump. His head cracked against the ground, and he felt his body go numb momentarily only to be replaced shortly after with incredible pain that spread through his skull. He stared upwards at the monster, mouth agape in it's search for breath. He saw blood. Was it his?

"G-" He gasped desperatly for breath, "Gahrok... I- I won't let... you... die a monster"

Did his words penetrate the cold white armor?

He didn't care.


Not his friend, not his companion. He swore right then and there that Gahrok would not become another lost soul, another waste of wonder.

"Strike, Hiketsu!"

There was a flash of green light, and a furious whirlwind of reiatsu surrounded the pair before reaching a tense calm, and with a great shout, Masaru slashed at the bone-white mask, a great stream of acid spewing forth. If only... thought Masaru, If only I could destroy that mask!

[Gahrok]

The acid from Hiketsu hurtled towards the being that Gahrok had become, its potent acid hissing as if it could corrode the very air itself. With a howl the hollow-fied wolf jumped backwards, trembling in rage and pain the beast snarled. Chunks of the white mask had began to crumble, hissing and bubbling as the acid tore its way through. Shaking its head as a dog would shake the water from its fur Gahrok, still on all fours, gave Massaru another piercing stare, his burnt skin visible through the holes in the mask the acid had made. It was furious, barring its fangs it pawed the ground once more and began to circle its opponent, buffeted but not cowed by the whirlwind of reiatsu its Masaru had released.

The hollow pointed its sword at Gahroks throat as he struggled to get to his feet once more, and then something gripped Gahrok that had not touched him for centuries, not since he had been a little boy all alone. Once more he was truly alone in the world, in his world. Gahrok was afraid. “There’s no way out is there? No final justice for its original harbinger? How truly… truly sad….” cackled the hollow, its features twisting into a hideous grin which the old Gahrok whose body the hollow assumed never would have dreamed of donning. Gahrok had no words, his heart pounded loud and hollow, drowning his body with rhythmic fearful thumps. It was right, he had nothing, no courage, no justice, no power… no allies. The hollow raised its sword, a dark wind beginning to blow, encircling the two Gahrok’s. Soon it had become a thick and relentless torrent, a black whirlwind through which nothing could be soon but the small section of the concrete path on which the two opponents faced off. It blocked out even the blackness.

It charged once more, saliva dripping from its fangs, fury embodying every twitching movement. It was sloppy now, its movements erratic, so close to the kill… and yet something was wrong. In its fury the wolf had lost its grace. Too fast, too deadly… too rash.

“No words from little Gahrok? This IS the end…. and you have not even a defiant last statement for me?” elation at his success ran rampant through the sporadic and gleeful screeches of the hollows tone. It was so close. With a scream it brought Wolfe down, straight for Gahrok’s throat, the sword sang a sad and somber note as It cut through the air. “I….” thought Gahrok weakly, “I am not ready to end this….”. With a grunt and a wince Gahrok threw his left arm up to block the blow. It never came. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at a hilt-less Wolfe, and a shocked and enraged hollow. “WHAT? Come back here you thieving coward… you are MINE!” screeched the hollow, his teeth barred and his eyes spinning wildly with madness. It had been SO close.

It stopped its charge, frozen in an instant. Indecision and paralysis mingled to stop all the fury that had once consumed the being. It looked around confused, as if suddenly aware of surroundings it had never seen before. And then, with a jolt, its snout once more scrunched and lips curled to reveal fangs. It’s shock had given way once more, to a fury born of desperation and failure… one much stronger then what had been seen before. Wind blasted from the wolf in all directions, blowing away street carts and even the few people still hiding in corners of the alleyways. Glinting eyes sought Masaru, It howled its vengeance at him, but with the furious and intimidating sound came a blast of wind that shot rapidly forth, seeking masaru. So powerful that it screeched through the air, the concussive stream hurtled towards Masaru.

The whirlwind around them stopped, Gahrok slowly struggled to his knees and screaming furious hollow searched all about him for the whereabouts of Wolfe. A resounding boom rent the very foundations of the blackness, and a blinding white light descended upon Gahrok and his hollow, both rendered blind for a second. And then they both heard it, they had no choice, for the howl that rang across all of the chasms and valleys of Gahroks mind, screaming its dissent, its hatred, its sadness. And then as their vision returned they both saw it between them, majestic and towering, Wolfe. Gahrok’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach at the sight of his closest ally, the being whom he had betrayed the most in these dark years. The hollow took in a shallow breath and stepped slowly backwards, fear restricting whatever it had in the place of a heart.

“I cannot allow this to continue” boomed Wolfe, his voice enough to freeze those on either side of him in their tracks. First he turned to the hollow, his piercing yellow eyes glittering with loathing. “You. Neither do you own me or Gahrok, and you never will. I will not die here, not as a shadow of what I was. You have no power here without me, and no-one as corrupted as you will ever be able to understand what it takes to wield me.”. Stunned, the hollow had no words and his smirk was now replaced with an enraged grimace. He was completely dwarfed by the massive white wolf, and looked like a toy, a plaything in comparison. Wolfe laughed at the hollow’s weakness, his laughter rolling with a thunderous and booming intonation, filling the air. It stopped abruptly, much like the sudden rage and silence of his master in previous years. Cold yellow eyes appraised the hollow for a second, and then, with a horrendous and heart-wrenching growl he swatted the thing away like a doll, and with an ear-splitting scream the hollow flew across the path, landing with a dull thud.

Gahrok stood, fear and guilt wracking his heart and mind. It had been ten years since he had seen Wolfe, and he knew that the great white beast would have less then kind words for him as well. It turned to Gahrok, who was still on his knees. “Why do you kneel? Where is your pride? roared Wolfe, lowering its head (which in itself was as large as Gahrok) so that its piercing yellow eyes could look at him straight on. Gahrok stuttered, no words. “I’ll tell you.” Wolfe snarled,, “Your pride is gone, gone along with all the ideals that once made you the man you who were. That Gahrok is the only man fit to wield me, you are nothing but a coward and a slave to your own fear.” Wolfe spat the last words, and yet he made no move to attack as he had with the hollow. He only gazed upon Gahrok in a sad reverie. “I will not fight this battle for you, it is not dead. It will come back for you. And if you cannot find yourself, then you will not have me, you will not have justice on your side.”.

Gahrok’s heart hung heavy, had he really fallen that far? And if he had… how… how could he go back?

Wolfe began to fade, his image slowly disappearing into blackness. “She may have betrayed you, she may have lied, but is justice any less real? Remember Gahrok, ideals can never die. I hope you can make the right choice.” and then he was gone. Gahrok cried out, screamed his name… he wanted him back, he needed his help, his guidance. There was no answers, only more questions. I cant do this alone, he thought, why did you come back only to leave me, Wolfe?

It was pawing at the ground again, once more ready to unleash its fury, its back was up against the wall and it wasn’t going to go down without a fight. It was a slobbering mass of anger and insanity, just as the hollow inside of Gahrok was becoming at the loss of his only tool to ensure success. Like a thunderbolt a colossal gust of wind shot down from the sky towards the ground right beside Masaru, so thick it was impossible to even see through the massive column. It hit the ground with an immense explosion, a cascade of wind and reiatsu exploding forth, strong enough to match if not stronger then the wind that had eschewed from the hollow-Gahrok’s howl but a moment earlier. When the wind cleared an astonishing sight lay right beside Masaru. A fully grown male white wolf with piercing yellow eyes sat regally with a contemplative and measure gaze set on the enraged being infront of it. Wolfe was roughly the same size as Gahrok and not nearly as large as he had appeared in his mind, in the real world he was only the size of a real wolf.

Looking upwards a grin pervaded across his features as he looked on Masaru. “You are strong my child, and you have become all that my master once was. I am proud to fight alongside you.”

[Harmony]

The moment Masaru felt the crushing weight of the monster lift, he painfully pulled himself into a sitting position. Wide eyes clouded in pain and he pressed his free hand against his chest as he fought to breathe in wheezing gasps. The pain was incredible, like his body being crushed bone by bone. He could hardly think... could hardly move... All those years of training, all those years spent fighting to get stronger... gone to waste. I can't do it... Masaru choked, the bitter coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. He had taken too much damage to his ribs... he couldn't even breathe properly. He was going to die... the monster won... he beat him, he beat Gahrok, and now... he was going to kill more people. He had failed. Failure. The word hung heavy in Masaru's thoughts, it's devastating power over him nearly pushing him back to the ground. The passion in his heart hadn't been enough... he was still weak. None of his effort or promises or resolution mattered in the end. He didn't matter. He deserved death.

There was one way to continue fighting, but did he dare tread down that path? It was overgrown with weeds of disappointment and despair. He shook his head weakly... even in the face of torture and even death, the pride in Masaru's heart had a choke-hold on him. Not even in the face of death would he stoop so low...

With a groan, he struggled to stand, his body trembling viciously. Each movement was a dagger thrust in his lungs but he continued to push himself not yet... not yet... He wasn't ready to die yet. He had a duty as a captain... he wasn't ready to fail Seireitei or Gahrok... or himself; as long as his heart beat with passion in his chest, as long as his arms could lift, he would not fall.

The ground shook as the beast charged forward, and Masaru looked up, his gaze heavy as it fell on his enemy, betraying not the fear or pain plaguing him: they were ablaze with determination. Come and kill me if you can The familiar smirk surfaced on his face, his bleeding lips pulling up at the corners. The winds were shifting inside of him. He took a step forward, lifting Hiketsu with his shaking arm. He could see that he too had damaged his opponent and this discovery cut through his pain. It was no longer impossible... A lone dog could catch the stars after all. With this thought, his jaw clenched in newfound determination. He shot forward. His legs moved, his arm raised Hiketsu, he growled in his throat, his eyes glittered with the light of a man unafraid to die.

For you, Gahrok... you taught me what strength is...

From the closing distance, Masaru slashed downwards with his zanpakuto and the blade sang in the air as it cut through the world. A cascade of acid surged forth. It hissed through the air like some living thing, twisting and coiling its way towards the target at an amazing rate. In that moment, Masaru felt the light presence of Hiketsu brush through his soul, and he nearly felt tears come to his eyes... did she now see the strength in his heart? Did she see how he needed her? But, as soon as it had come, her presence vanished and Masaru was again alone in this dead-man's fight.

He saw the monster halt suddenly and he slowed to a stop, fighting to keep his breathing level; heavy breaths spelled disaster in such a state. What was it doing? But, before Masaru could question further, it bared it's fangs in a snarl, and a sudden devastating blast of wind gushed from its body. The blast was disastrous; debris whipped through the air, rocks and splinters lacerated him... whole structures crumbled. Paralysis gripped him as the force of the attack hit him square in the chest, pushing him back at an alarming rate. He tried in vain to dig his heels into the ground, but it was to no avail. His body slammed against the wall of a house several yards away and Masaru fell forward, his eyes wide in incomprehension. Such power...

He lay like this for a brief moment before again standing to his feet. Blood trickled down the back of his head. His vision blurred in and out of focus. How long could he continue to fight like this? He felt himself fall, and he reached out blindly with his free hand to steady himself against the damaged wall behind him. Shikai wouldn't be enough... not enough. This grim fact surfaced in his thoughts yet again, and his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing. Not yet... he could fight still... he could defeat his opponent... he would fight to the death before using his bankai... The idea itself was like venom in his blood. How he hated being forced into a corner... how he hated depending on that crutch.

It was his duty to defeat this monster. Soul Society wanted him to fight, wanted him to succeed. They trusted him to not disappoint them as he had on so many other occasions... he needed this... he needed to prove that he was made of something stronger than what they saw. He needed to prove his strength was greater than his lack of experience.

He stood upright, independent of the wall, and shot a sad smile at the hollowized wolf, “You win...” His words were no louder than a weak whisper, but they lost not their sting. It was time to come to terms with his own weakness...

Solemnly Masaru raised his zanpakuto, and stared down at the blade for what seemed like an eternity before plunging it into his abdomen. He fell immediately to his knees, crimson blossoming around the wound like a poppy before trickling down, staining the ground and his skin. His wide unblinking eyes stared blankly forward, his hands closed into tight fists... and then it happened; an erruption of scorching pain tore through his body... a pain that he endured countless time before, a pain that never lessened in time. Masaru threw his head back in a heart-wrenching scream, his hands clawing at his face. The acid ate away at him from the inside out, devouring his bones... Great beads of sweat formed on his pale skin, and he fell to the ground, landing painfully on his side. In time the acid did stop burning, and he swallowed, choking back the tears that threatened to surface.

“...Bankai...”

There was a flash of light, followed by an incredible wave of crushing reiatsu. It was wild, untamed, nearly as potent as the acid of his blade. It tore at his surroundings relentlessly like some ravenous beast. Masaru stood easily, now unplagued by his injuries, and pulled the blade from his stomach without flinching. It transformed in his hands, taking the proper shape of a long ribbon with a scythe-blade on either end. His gaze was locked on the opponent before him, hardly suppressing the anger that now welled within him. “I will never forgive you.”

Just then a great pillar of wind shot down from the sky beside him, the explosion of the blast nearly forcing him from his feet. Masaru jumped in surprise, wide eyes staring in shock. He lifted a hand to shield his face from the wind as it tore at him, but as the wind cleared, Masaru gasped, his jaw dropping dumbly. There he was... the great white wolf of Gahrok's broken zanpakuto. He couldn't speak, couldn't move.

“You are strong my child, and you have become all that my master once was. I am proud to fight alongside you.”

Masaru straightened, managing finally to close his mouth, “I am honored, Wolfe.”

[Gahrok]

All was quiet in the serenely dangerous calm, the blackness blanketed all with an oppressive stillness that choked the soul. Gahrok was alone with his worst enemy, and it was a manifestation of himself. The tears had begun to roll, his heart was speeding, plummeting, rocketing into an unknown abyss at a speed beyond imagination. Gahrok’s mouth was open but he couldn’t take a breath. The world was crushing him, imploding in upon him and crushing his heart, his soul. The cold tear made a slow river down his worn and aged cheek, stopping to collect on the corner of his thin and hard lip. What was this feeling? Gahrok could not remember. What were these tears for? Gahrok had forgotten. What was this stupid, senseless feeling that ripped apart his abdomen? Guilt…. that he knew… but he had banished it, banished it with anger, with violence, how had it returned? Everything felt as if it was suddenly suspended in air, the feeling made him supremely uncomfortable. Gahrok tried to bring back that rage, that hate at the world, that angry voice that screamed “fight back”. It was gone, washed away in this sudden flood. And all of a sudden Gahrok knew that it had been a feeble little dam, that he could’ve never held off the tides forever. He had failed even to fool himself. Another tear started its slow journey down his cheek and he finally managed a ragged sigh which hardly granted him the lungful of air his shocked system painfully needed. Gahrok was so mad at himself, so furious that he had lost his calm and yet he couldn’t grasp that fury, couldn’t harness it. The last grains of power, of anger, of righteous outrage… fell through his hands like sand, leaving nothing but tattered remnants of his self-martyrdom. Gahrok had lost the hope that was left in his own infallibility, he knew it now, and it brought such fear, such guilt… such sorrow that it tore him apart like the wind that he so freely used to cause chaos among others. He knew he ha been wrong, and now there lay a whirlwind inside of his own heart.

“Masaru…,” his wearied thoughts cried, “I never meant to…”

The wolfish being seemed cowed, afraid, Masaru’s display of raw power and the arrival of Wolfe had the hollowized Gahrok in serious danger. With its ears back and lips curled the skeletal canine let loose a venomous snarl. It was far from done despite its 2-1 odds. It was wary now, it sensed the change In its former opponent and acknowledged the power of the new-comer. It would no longer be rash in its movements. Slowly circling it seized up Masaru, pawing the ground in anticipation of a charge.

Wolfe broke the silent standoff and with a howl the big white lupine beast gracefully pounced, its yellow eyes flashing with hatred, for this thing that consumed his master was evil, it had taken hold of its beloved wielders heart and soiled it with fear and jealousy. It needed to die. Wolfe and it fought, snarling and snapping, wind flying in every direction so thick that if someone stood even so far as a meter into the maelstrom they would surely be cut to shreds.

It ended abruptly as the skeletal wolf howled, sending a dark black laced burst of wind into the snarling snout of wolfe. The white wolf was flung backwards by the force of the attack, skidding as it landed on its side and stopping with a silent collision against the ruined husk of what was once a fruit venders cart.

With feral eyes the bastardized Gahrok, snarled, its white fangs dripping with saliva. It pounced for Masaru….

Footsteps, preceded by the ragged scratch of a robe ripping and a muffled grunt of pain, the thing was up. Hollow and echoless were its footsteps, devoid of the imposing power, of the threat they once posed. But they continued to ring ever so slighty, spelling their finality out step by step. With all his might, with all the will that was left Gahrok commanded his right hand to wipe away the tears, those two little physical admissions of weakness, of defeat. Of being wrong. He couldn’t. Ideals… wolfe had said that they were real, that justice… that justice did exist. But…

The footsteps stopped and Gahroks head and neck snapped upwards in a flash to view the hideous being that stood before him. There was no grin on its wretched face, no illusions of superiority, only cold. Only a desperate fury that played eerily across the hollows impassive features. Gahrok knew then, he could not win like this. He could not win the broken man that he was. Wolfe was right. The tears had dried and all that was left was that horrible sinking feeling, Gahrok feared it would be permanent, so potent was its affect. “But is justice any less real?”… Gahrok ran the words over In his head, but it couldn’t be like that… the world had betrayed him, justice had betrayed him. Masaru had betrayed him. Nanna…. Nanna had betrayed him. Why should he take up that sword again? Who was he going to fight for?

“You ruined it… you ruined everything! Your NOTHING without the wolf. And now I’m left with you, you are not even strong enough to be inhabited by me. You are weak… you are nothing. You have no goal, you have no meaning, your alone Gahrok. And now you will die. Though sadly your barely worth killing.”


“He’s losing…. Masaru..” a hint of pleading dented the wolf’s imposing demeanour, “We must give him more time.”

Wolf was not in good shape, he had taken the brunt of most of the hollows attacks and was panting raggedly, it was apparent that he was nearing the last reserves of his energy. His yellow orbs saught Masaru’s, he knew that the captain no longer trusted his master, wanted to kill him even. “Do not forget the past, the years have been hard to you both. If you kill him, let it not be like this. Let him be himself once more at least, or would you rather kill this monster…. you must realize that this isn’t him, this isn’t even the Gahrok you saw at the park. If you want to kill him, I wont stop you…. but you will get no satisfaction from slaying that…. beast.

As if sensing that it was being discussed the vile creature let out a violent and venomous breath, a small explusion of reiatsu wind, more to showcase its power then anything else. It had been winning, and it knew it. The end was near. It had fought hard with the white wolf, and now the thing had no energy to resist him. It would turn its energy to the human, who despite his pain fought continuosly and valiantly.

It pounced once more on Masaru with furious swipes, the whirlwind engulfing the two combatants as the heavy paws of Gahroks hollow saught to rip free the heart of its tormentor. It was desperate now, it smelt the possibility of victory.




“No…” thought Gahrok, steely defiance rising, “I am not nothing. I have come to far, I have done to much.” His hands gripped the concrete harder, feeling it, digging into it, an affirmation of the life that had begun to course through his veins, through his arms, through his muscles. Through his heart. “I was nothing, when I stranded myself… when I was all alone. But I wont allow that to happen again. I am Gahrok, I am a dispatcher of justice…. I won’t forget it wolfe. Those people I saved, the evil I banished… that isn’t changed because of her. She can never take that away.” Gahrok hid a smile behind the sad and stoic face that quickly overtook his shocked and defeated features. It was time to fight, and live or die in the name of all that he once fought for, was known for. Justice.

“You” said Gahrok calmly, his voice clearly asserting his power. The air of authority that a decade had stolen was slowly rushing back, that power in self assurance, that dignity in insanity, that air of arrogance, that was and once again formed the passionate and sleepless warrior of justice that was: Gahrok. “Will die here demon. Your kind does not deserve life, I shall bring you your justice. Are you ready?”

Gahrok flash stepped from his kneeling position to several meters back, springing to his feet. His fists were curled, his green eyes flashing with life they had not seen in years, they were not downcast, they were not defeated. They were strong, gleaming with that vindication, with that passionate anger. “I will find my way to you again wolfe, and we will finish what we started, and keep fighting until we die. I promise it. And Masaru…. I must speak to him… I must tell him…. that…” Gahrok stopped, trying with all his might to hold back the next though from springing forth, but he lost the battle. “That I’m proud of him.”

But first…

“You think you can all of a sudden beat me? What’s changed Gahrok?” it cackled. “Have you forgotten the lat ten years of your life? Have you forgotten who has always won? Have you forgotten that you’ve tried…”

“No.” said Gahrok stoically, “I simply am choosing to amend the past. Watch and SEE, you hideous defilement of humanity.” Gahrok sneered the last words in contempt, in arrogant distaste. His fist raised he flash stepped once more, infront of the surprised hollow, it was not used to this level of speed, passion or defiance from its once sentient shell.

“This is for the ones that I hurt…” he screamed as his right fist whipped into the hollows stomach with a sickening crunch. The mirror of gahroks former self doubled over, choking and spluttering.

The hollow backed away, it was being defeated from outside and in. Its armor was slowly cracking, shedding. Bits of Gahrok’s red-stained flesh could be seen, and the tattered remnants of his jacket. Its ears were back and it let out a painful screech of a whine.

Bringing his right fist back Gahrok’s left shot up, his lips curling to show a vehement grimace, all the while his green eyes flashing with feral rage…. and predatory hunger. It was almost as if…. Wolfe was with him. “This is for those I killed.” Gahroks left fist could’ve scorched the air, so fast and ferociously did it rocket up to connect forcefully, and rather musically, with the hollows chin. The force of the blow sent the screeching hollow up into the air, its feet leaving the ground. But Gahrok wasn’t done. His nostrils flared, rage consuming him… it had destroyed his life, it had clouded his eyes… it had torn him away from all that he loved. NOW, now was its judgement day, now it would pay.

“This is for clouding my eyes from what is important from me.. this is for stealing my fucking JUSTICE”

Gahrok held out his hand, knowing what was too come. Wolfe materialized in an instant, the blade feeling so natural in his hand. It knew know, they both knew now… he was ready. Sneering Gahrok turned to the hollow who had just hit the ground and was struggling to get up but failing miserable. He stood over it, pointing wolfe at its neck.

“You cannot cut me from you, I AM you…. I am as much a part of you as that sword, you will never be rid of me.”[/b]

Gahrok laughed, a cold and cruel laugh, his sword point retained a firm and vigilant post a hairs breadth from his opponents neck. “You are right, and yet you are wrong. You may be a part of me, a blackened shriveled little part of me. But rest assured you are only here to lend your energy, you are now a sentient organ. You are MINE, not the other way around.”

The armor shattered, all of it, the grotesque white disappearing into thousands of little shards and eventually into nothingness. Collapsed in a heap was a bloody and disgruntled Gahrok. His white hair was matted with blood and his clothes in tatters, one could easily have mistaken him for dead. But he was once more, Gahrok.

Without warning Gahrok’s sword flashed in the darkness, biting the flesh of an enemy for the first time in so long…. Wolfe had been hungry. The hollow screamed, an unholy and inhuman shriek. A large bloody gash had appeared, covering its chest and soaking the black uniform in red. “And you WILL remember it.”

The walls of darkness began to melt, shimmering as if the mirage was shaken. Gahrok felt a momentary weakness, his knees buckling. What had… had he just? It was all a blur… suddenly his battered body screamed, pain stabbing at him. Gahrok closed his eyes, falling to his knees once more.

He opened his eyes to find he was once more in the world of the living, had he truly won….? Was he truly back? Was he truly…. Gahrok, once more? Taking ragged breaths as if he had just been submerged in water Gahrok looked around with awakening eyes, the streets of soul society. And then he saw him… Masaru. His heart stopped, for the first time he saw his old comrade with sober eyes. The man was scarred, he had aged so much in those long years. Was it really old Masaru? The cheer seemed to be drained from him, the innocence dead. Gahrok felt a stab at his heart, they had both changed…. they had both been scarred. Masaru was soaked in blood… had he done this? What was that wound… that gaping wound in his chest?

“Masaru,” Gahrok called weakly, [/b]” Masasru….”[/b]. So many things to say, but all that reigned was the silence. This time he was the weak one. “It has been to long.” Gahrok said the words stiffly, but he meant them with all his heart. His only friend… would that cold and hard and strong man that was once his happy Masaru ever forgive him? Could things ever be….

The same?

[Harmony]

The beast's snarl attracted Masaru's attention once more and he turned from Wolfe, empowered by his company. He was unafraid of defeat; Bankai gave him a tremendous sense of ascendancy, the way a child feels when it plays with worms in the dirt: not a breath of a second wasted on fear. His pain was nearly gone, reduced to a subtle throb in the background. The only thing that stayed his hand was his memories... but those, like his pain, were fading in significance. The wolf began to approach him, and Masaru cracked a smile of anticipation, blood running down his chin, What are you waiting for?...

Suddenly Wolfe charged and Masaru immediately followed, his exquisite scythe blades flashing in the sunlight. A light green aura surrounded him in a vibrant glow. It resonated around him like a sort of escalating symphony of energy, and it took everything he had to keep it subdued, to not waste it all with each step he took. It felt good.

The moment Wolfe pounced, Masaru was pushed forcefully from his feet by a sudden onslaught of wind. It cut him like razors... he could feel the warmth of his blood as it surfaced and trickled down his skin, but he did not feel the pain. He strained against the wind, breathing sharply in his determination. This was his fight, god-dammit... he wasn't going to just sit and watch from the sidelines... this was his fight... HIS fight. With each constricted step, Masaru's skin peeled and hung from his body in ribbons. A dangerously deep red flowed from his abdomen as his wounds deepened, but his eyes only saw the two creatures entangled in their battle, all he could see was their fangs glinting in the light... all he knew... all he understood was that he needed to be there too. Masaru was largely a slave to his own power. An overwhelming thirst for carnage drove him and it drove him alone... there was no more Gahrok... only his prey.

He thought nothing of Wolfe's well-being... as arrogant as he was, he perceived Wolfe to be invincible, god-like even. Defeat existed only in Masaru's inability to touch the battle. So as Wolfe sailed back and skidded painfully along the ground, Masaru gasped, staring helplessly at his seemingly broken form, his eyes watering in anger and surprise. How... how could this happen? He saw the blood caking his fur and Masaru looked down briefly at the blades in his hands... what was he fighting for?

A snarl pierced his reverie and Masaru looked up, his eyes stinging. He needed to regain control...

The beast pounced, and Masaru turned to face him fully, his grip on the ribbon clenching. He had time...

Calmly, serenely, Masaru advanced, his scythe blades propelling around him in a gentle whirl. His breathing was steady and measured, his heart placid... His eyes softened, unclouded by the cold hatred that ruled them only seconds before. In that instant he was lighter than ever before, even as blood streaked his lacerated form.

He leapt, sailing gracefully towards his opponent, emerald acid streaming from the ends of his twin blades. He was unafraid... he was above it all.

The hollowized wolf was nearly upon him now; he could feel the needlelike buzz of his reiatsu... could almost taste the beast's caustic venom in his mouth. This is when he struck.

As Fast as lightening, Masaru's blades lashed out like a whip, their reach far extending that of any sword. Once, twice he slashed the beast's armored chest, bursts of astronomically potent acid hissing furiously as it contacted the bone white armor. Powerful enough to dissolve walls of steel, it worked away at the surface of the armor, and Masaru flash stepped to the right, his reiatsu escalating in force. Massive craters riddled the earth as Hiketsu's acid dribbled from the wolf's skeletal form. Smoke rose and cleared from his body, and Masaru watched him carefully, hazel eyes scrutinizing its every move.

“He’s losing…. Masaru...We must give him more time.”

Masaru inhaled sharply and dared a glance at Wolfe, allowing his attention -for a moment- to abandon the demon.

...Who?....Who needed time?

Then it struck him hard and fast like an arrow to his chest.... how had he forgotten? How did he forget the man behind the masquerade?

Gahrok

A shudder hit first his arms and then his hands, and he swallowed hard, the guilt returning all at once like a wave and he averted his gaze, now unable to meet Wolfe's piercing stare.

“Do not forget the past, the years have been hard to you both. If you kill him, let it not be like this. Let him be himself once more at least, or would you rather kill this monster…. you must realize that this isn’t him, this isn’t even the Gahrok you saw at the park. If you want to kill him, I wont stop you…. but you will get no satisfaction from slaying that…. beast.

“...He's...” Masaru choked on the words, hardly daring to believe the mistake he nearly made, “...Gahrok can be saved?”

He glanced up at the monster before him in disbelief, a warmer, determined light captured in his eyes. “How stupid of me...”

Momentarily forgetting his injured pride, Masaru straightened, “I'll save you.”

The creature dived for him once more and Masaru gripped the handles of the scythe blades rather than the ribbon and blocked each swipe with precision, allowing himself to be pushed back. There was an explosion of wind and it tore into his wounds, but he managed to fight on par with the beast, his heart set on its path. He wasn't fighting for respect anymore, but for the life of someone he once looked up to as a leader and friend. With the knowledge that Gahrok wasn't truly lost... that his stability (what he had of it) could be recovered, Masaru wouldn't let him go.

Masaru released his reiatsu all at once, like a faucet turned all the way up, and it sky rocketed to incredible proportion. Wave upon wave of crushing force was exerted from his body, and he watched as the beast began to back away, cowed by the pressure. Its armor began to fall away, and Masaru caught hopeful glimpses of Gahrok's jacket beneath the shell. It was finished.

As the armor fell away completely, Masaru sank to his knees, his zanpakutou falling from his bloodied hands, and he watched as Gahrok fall in a heap with a heavy expression, tears forming in his eyes.

After a moment, Gahrok stirred, and Masaru could only stare as he spoke,

”Masaru, Masaru... It has been so long”

Masaru smiled bitterly, “Welcome back,” he replied weakly, as the effects of his Bankai began to ebb; his pain was slowly returning... “It's good to see yah... self-righteous justice freak.”

He fell forward, no longer able to remain upright, and blood began to pool around his body. His breathing was slow and ragged, his flesh hung in strips, but the smile remained plastered on his cracked lips until he lost consciousness, his cloudy unseeing eyes staring blankly forward.

[Shizuko]

The sounds of rapid, labored steps could be heard at the outskirts of the great central pillar of Soul Society known as the Court of Pure Souls. A handful of weak-looking young shinigami struggled with bags, supplies, and stretchers as they made their way through the cautiously opened gate. Making their way into the less hospitable area of Rukongai, the great door was slammed shut behind the group, causing some of them to jump with fright and apprehension.

Shimizu Atsue led her frightened comrades out into the dirty streets, though they seemed to pass unnoticed by the residents of the outer areas of Soul Society. It seemed that their attention had been directed elsewhere. It was only a moment before the members of Gotei Four identified the focus of their interest.

A crushing, wicked reiatsu emanated from an area not far, it seemed. Atsue was quick to realize that this was likely a larger problem than she had anticipated. It wasn’t uncommon for incomplete information to reach her squad when dispatched, but her gut told her that this was a treacherous situation indeed. This newly returned intruder was more dangerous than initially assessed. Glancing over her shoulder, the lieutenant took notice of one of her comrades, on his hands and knees, obviously suffering from the enormous force threatening to crush them all.

Turning quickly and motioning for the others to continue on, Atsue returned and knelt at her subordinate’s side. She began relieving him of the excess weight in medical supplies he had been bearing. He managed to lift his head enough to lock on her golden gaze, and his petrified eyes were met with the usual, kind expression of his lieutenant.

“Stay here and take care of yourself. We’ll be back soon,” she calmly said as she rested a reassuring hand on his shaking shoulder. He gave a weak nod in response, hardly able to move.

Atsue dashed away after the other healers, each step becoming more difficult than the last, due to the incredible forces at odds with one another. Atsue recognized the reiatsu of one party, though the horrible dark reiatsu of the other was foreign to her.

In short order, the Fourth Squad’s members had stumbled upon quite a scene. A petrified group of people surrounded a form crumpled and bleeding on the ground. Some had already begun to flee the area, though others remained, staring in disbelief at the marred body before them. Quick assessment with keen senses led the lieutenant to believe that the person in the dirt no longer held a spark of life. She’d often been called into a situation involving deaths, but it still made Atsue’s heart sink to realize that she’d arrived too late.

Before she’d had the time for regret to sink in, a great deal of noise and interference pierced the air around the crowd. Atsue quickly dropped the bags and supplies she’d been carrying. Fear churned in the pit of her stomach as she listened to the animalistic chaos as it occurred just the next street over. The lieutenant recognized her duty, however, knowing that it was expected that she would investigate the problem and protect her squad as well as any innocents who might find themselves in danger.

“Get everyone away from here and tend to the injured and dead,” Atsue ordered as her smile faded and her brow furrowed slightly. Her subordinates hesitated only for a moment, having suddenly realized that her assessment of the bloody body in the street had been correct. They moved away quickly, though it was clear that their movements were hampered by both the reiatsu battering their senses as well as their supplies.

The lieutenant quickly made her way to the roof of a nearby building in hopes of getting a better view. It was indeed a better view, though it horror of it was enough to make her wish she hadn’t found this better vantage point. She found herself looking upon some sort of terrifying hybrid between hollow and human. Its power clearly emanated from its body with enough force to crush even the highest ranking shinigami. Opposite the armored beast stood the Gotei Six Captain, Takahashi Masaru. Just as the woman began to visually evaluate the Captain for injuries, her golden eyes widened in horror as she witnessed him plunge a blade into his own torso. Her hand flew to her mouth in some sort of subconscious effort to stifle a scream as she watched what she was certain were going to be Masaru’s last moments.

The reiatsu that surged outward from the Captain was nearly enough to knock Atsue from the roof of the building upon which she stood, though she clearly heard what he’d said when he’d impaled himself with his own zanpakuto. The hand that had covered her mouth quickly moved to shield herself from the intense reiatsu radiating from the two at odds. The other hand held firm on the pommel of her zanpakuto as she debated the prospect of calling upon Moroha for assistance. Her thoughts raced as she realized that though most everyone knew a little about the bankai forms of those who had attained it (with exception of her own, of course), she’d rarely witnessed it. Masaru certainly had in interesting one, to say the least. One might even describe it as a healer’s worst nightmare.

Atsue managed to gather herself enough to watch the entrance of a regal-looking wolf. It appeared to align itself with Masaru, and take the bulk of the onslaught of attacks by the opponent which followed. Though Atsue desperately wished to aid the Captain and this noble wolf, she was well aware that she did not possess the power necessary to be of assistance and would only be in the way. She quickly determined that her entrance into the fray would depend heavily on timing, as it certainly couldn’t last much longer, given the Captain’s weakened condition.

The fight was both gory and terrifying. Atsue struggled to understand just what was happening, though she was simply unable to come up with an explanation. It seemed that the battle between the Captain and this powerful hollow-like creature stemmed from something far deeper than a mere confrontation on the street. There came an astonishing moment, however, just as Atsue was beginning to believe that this demonic creature was going to slay her comrade and his canine companion, that the beast shrieked loudly and its armor shattered, revealing a broken, bloody man.

As the two enemies crumpled to the ground, Atsue recognized that her moment to move had arrived. She turned her head just slightly to be sure that her subordinates had followed her instructions. Her golden gaze again moved to the aftermath of the violent confrontation between two powerful enemies. She took care to survey the scene so that no one would notice her flash step to Masaru’s side. It was not well known that she’d attained that level of skill, after all.

The woman kept an eye on the Captain’s opponent as she moved and as she attended to Masaru, unsure of his intent or abilities. She’d realized that she would have to move quickly in order to help Masaru, however, and placing herself in danger of this enemy’s attack would be necessary. She took care to ensure that the Captain’s enemy would be unable to make a move without her noticing, however.

Even as Masaru fell forward, he was caught in the arms of the Fourth Squad Vice-Captain. She’d appeared in front of him in only an instant, quickly stopping his momentum and helping him gently to the ground. Her hands moved quickly to that familiar scar on his torso. Atsue understood now why it was there and why it often appeared fresh. It bled freely now, though a quick burst of reiatsu from the woman’s palms had served well to stop the bleeding. He had numerous injuries, of course, though he would not bleed to death on her watch. Not today.

[Gahrok]

Masaru smiled bitterly, “Welcome back, it's good to see yah... self-righteous justice freak.”

Gahrok watched with fading eyes as the pain overtook his long lost comrade. He searched for words as his heavy heart pulled him closer and closer to the ground, his aching wounds and seeping blood telling him to give up… to drift into sleep. Masaru, he thought to himself…. how do you have such a strength in you, how do you still have that light? Gahrok was aghast for he saw it in those words, in their forgiveness…. their bitter joviality… the Masaru of old still lived. He’d been there all along.

And as Gahrok watched him slowly fall forward the ghost of a smile flickering like a fading candle across his paling features. He saw it to on his old comrade, that smile, even as the blood began to pool… and his eyes closed. Gahrok’s toothless smile spread, he too was nearing unconsciousness, laying stomach first on the hard and cold pavement. Ten years…. It felt like yesterday. Gahrok’s mind began to wander as his eyelids drooped, they’d always have that journey, no matter how much life had changed them. There as always the ride.

The tears came, and they didn’t stop. Rolling hot tears cascading plentifully across his barren cheeks, it felt almost good…. he didn’t ever remember crying like this. His heart ached, painfully clutched in the stony hands that had locked it up for so long… it had grown out of them and now they dug into it, keeping it excruciatingly contained. The tears and the smile, and a blurry Masaru… that was all that Gahrok had, that was all the world had. And he didn’t want…. he didn’t need anything else.

“You brought it back…” he said in a teary voice through silent sobs, “You brought it back to me Masaru.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, a feather in the wind. “I’ll never let the world do this to you again… I’ll never…” Gahrok closed his eyes and lay his cheek to the ground, his body numbing, “We’ll never be alone again….. in this cold world. We have something…. we have our ideals… we have our swords… our hearts… and we both have a companion, a comrade, a friend.”. The smile never stopped as he spoke the worlds, whispering them with silent and an unbecoming reverence. The wind rifled through his long and unkempt hair sending it flying wildly in the wind, but Gahrok was still, his battle fought…. his piece spoken, and his long hard penance paid.

It was a scene much like the one so many years ago, but this time it was not just Masaru who lay defenseless and bleeding. This time the two warriors, the two men….. lay in defeat and in victory together, alone and forever joined in a world that could never truly understand. Gahrok and Masaru.


((Sorry it took so long, I needed to feel it))

[Harmony]

((We're gonna end it here. Gahrok is now in prison, and Masaru will be recovering in Divsion 4))

[GoldenKitten]

Moved to Dead RP's.