jiang
12-31-2007, 09:40 PM
Title: Kyōka Suigetsu
About: A mix of things surrounding Aizen's Zanpaktō - Kyōka Suigetsu, some of this is from the 'Past' when Aizen first meets his blade and then there are segments of the 'future' of Bleach. With my own possible conclusion to the series...
:3 Totally ficticious, just a bit of fun on my part. I tried to use correct terms for things but I'm neither a Japanese expert nor a master of swords - so I appologise to the experts out there if some of my terminology is wrong / out of place~! <3
Warnings: Hmm 'slight' hints of a sexual nature...? (Honestly there is NO sex and no pairings, it's just one of my friends said it makes her think of sex so I warn ye all...)
There is a shock at the end (kind of)...
(( this is kind of a 'song fic' in that I took the song Kyōka Suigetsu and added it to the beginning - for no reason other than I like to do so :3 <3 ))
I hope you enjoy my short story!! Comments are appreciated - be gentle as I'm not a professional writer I did this for fun and to share with everyone!!
A blade that mirrors its master | a master that mirrors his blade.
Seijaku no sajou Miwatasu hito toki
Koe ni naranu koe wo Kokoro ni egaku
Namanurui hibi ni Namanuruku hitaru
Orokamono tachi ga Ononoku koe wo
Kagami ni utsuru tsuki ga terasu azayaka na sekai
Mitoreru egao goto Subete
Kudakechiru ga ii sa...
Kewashii hoereba Yowasa ga nijimide
Uyamai sugireba Rikai erarenu
Jiwa jiwa to kawaru Henka wo shiranai
Yowakimono tachi yo Tanoshimu ga ii
Kagami ni utsuru hana ga iyasu kiyorakana nioi
Yume miru kokoro goto Subete
Kudakechiru sadame yo...
Kagami ni utsuru tsuki ga terasu azayaka na sekai
Mitoreru egao goto Subete
Kudakechiru sadame yo...
Kagami ni utusuru mizu ga egaku yawaraka na kehai
Afureru kibou goto Subete
Kudakechiru ga ii sa...
Mitoreru egao goto Subete
Kudakechiru ga ii sa...
The Hall of Swords. That was the semi-official title for the place where Shinigami acquired their Zanpaktou. Through out the academy it was custom to give the trainees low-level, nameless Zanpaktou. There were few exceptions; Being of the aristocratic rule, being particularly gifted or already possessing a Zanpakuto.
It was only near graduation that a Shinigami-in-training was allowed to enter the Hall of Swords and call out to the many blades in search of the one that matched their own soul.
---
Aizen sat on his throne, in Hueco Mundo, looking down at the simple, naked, form of Kyōka Suigetsu. The steel of the blade shimmered like moonlight on water – a pure silver. He caressed the metal, brushing dangerously close to the sharpened edge. His fingers traced the simple tsuba (‘sword guard’ or possibly ‘cross guard’), a smile curls his lips. He had thought when he first set eyes on the blade that it was too simple – boring. Now, however, he had nothing but admiration for this simplicity. It hid such terrible and wonderful powers that if it had been too elaborate it would have been obvious. His fingers drifted over the hilt, wrapped in tightly bound green cloth. The sword seemed to vibrate to his touch, not a strong sensation but merely a feeling of reihatsu stroking his fingers in a mock touch. He smiled, Kyōka Suigetsu had always been a playful blade.
---
He walked down the long hall, weapons presented themselves in several forms – the blades responded to his reihatsu and some instantly began to mature in to their Shikai – even to Bankai. A display that inflated his ego at the knowledge of his power. He had always hid his true potential as he walked around the academy, no one knew, but these swords could not help but expose themselves to him. A display of submission, of need for his greater power.
He dismissed them all.
Aizen did not desire the blades that could so easily reveal all of their secrets to him – where was the fun in that? These weak blades that could not resist his power, they displayed their lack of potential. He passed several – one that had uncoiled from a simple blade in to a massive snake of bones. That one was too cumbersome – too ugly. He passed it and the creature hung its head – knowing it had been rejected.
Another one evolved, from a simple blade to a collection of petals that shimmered with their own light. They developed in to a flurry of petals, he caught one in his hand noting how the petals were thin pieces of sharp metal he briefly admired their deadly beauty. One such petal cut his finger. Blood tickled his thumb. With a scowl he discarded the small blade and moved on. The petals were equally ashamed of their rejection.
A multitude of blades a collection of unique, and boring, powers. None of them could hold his interest. None of them could provide him with a tingle – that was what they said at the Academy; “ ‘Your’ Zanpaktou will fill your stomach with a fluttering tingle. You will know that you have found that which matches your spirit when it causes your innermost being to ache and call out to it. Just as your Reihatsu calls to it.”
He had yet to know this sensation.
---
Lifting the katana up to the sky he observed the delicate curve of the blade, not an abnormality but a graceful curl to its proud form. Such a simple outer shell yet it possessed a greatness that he felt was reflected in himself. His smile grew, his reflection in the blade smiled back.
“Kyōka Suigetsu..” He murmured, rolling the words on his tongue – feeling their non-existent weight. Remembering how it had felt to say the words for the first time, when the sword first revealed its name –and face to him.
---
It had swept over him like a tidal wave, an ache, a tingle – something so strong it made his fingertips prickle with invisible pins and needles. He looked for the source of this new and delightful sensation, his eyes searching for the blade that mimicked his own powerful presence.
He noted that at the back of the Hall of Swords a lone blade hung. It was alone, no other sword occupied the wall, the ceiling or the floor around it. A distinct barrier between this lone weapon and all the others. An outcast. He approached it, his eyes no longer focused on the other blades.
He neared it – expecting it to bloom before his great and suffocating reihatsu, however the blade made no movements. The smile that had formed on his lips since he felt the blades presence had grown. He reached out for it, desiring to feel the weight of it, to see the colour of its blade, to inspect the tsuba. To his surprise the blade moved, drifting out of his reach. He pursued it, following it in to a dark space. When he turned his head to look back, he could no longer see the Hall of Swords, he was surrounded by this darkened space. Trapped in a world of Darkness.
The blade had stopped ‘running’ (if indeed a blade could ever be described as ‘running’). It was floating in the centre of the dark world. He approached it, he was close enough to reach out and grab it, the blade did not move. Had it decided to stop evading him?
---
“Aizen-sama.”
A voice broke his silent admiration of his sword, brown eyes looked down from the height of the throne to see whom the owner of the voice was. Ulquiorra, his loyal and devoted servant.
“Look. Your pet has arrived.”
The blade mumbled in his ear, sarcastically – he smiled at the comment.
“Is there a problem, Ulquiorra?” Aizen asked, with mild curiosity.
“Aizen-sama, I felt you should know.” Ulquiorra started, his green eyes never leaving Aizen’s – as if he were captured by their gaze “.. The boy, Ichigo, is nearly here. Nearly at the Throne Room.”
“I see.” Aizen murmured, his eyes closing “Go to your room, Ulquiorra, I shall send our enemy away.”
Ulquiorra nodded, he would never argue against his masters confident words “Yes, Aizen-sama.”
---
A moment passed in slow motion, he watched the blade silently. Not with awe or fear of the blades presence, but with mirth and understanding. Their spirits brushed, not quite intimate enough to be considered a caress but a chaste collision. Like a rock and a hard place – pressed firm against one another.
He enjoyed the pressure.
The sword seemed to mimic his feeling, he could tell because the sword started to seep more spiritual pressure. Finally the moment passed, his fingers spread out towards the blade. He touched the scabbard, unlike most Japanese blades it was not made of wood – he had expected it to be a saya-type of scabbard (a type of wooden scabbard), instead this blade possessed a metal one. It was cool against his fingers, a slight thrum of something akin to electricity passed through him. It did not hurt, it just tingled against him as if the blade had fingertips and was attempting to touch him in the same was he touched it.
It was the most curious sensation he had felt, the feeling of another being mimicking him spiritually. Mimicking the curiosity of his soul, mimicking the power of his presence – like a mirror that reflected his whole being in a new form. It was almost hard to comprehend that a mass of materials could represent such complex aspects of his inner most being.
---
“Getsuga Tenshō!!” Ichigo’s voice rumbled from behind the large doors of the throne room.
The stone doors collapsed in to a confetti of pebbles and dust, instantly dirtying the impeccably clean room that Aizen sat in. It irked the man upon his throne, slightly, that this ‘boy’ was messing up his home. It was not enough of a feeling to express facially – just an inner annoyance.
His eyes looked down upon the orange haired, faux Shinigami he smiled and crossed one leg over the other as he sat “Yokoso, Kurosaki Ichigo.” He welcomed his guest with a hint of enjoyment.
Ichigo ignored the welcome and spat words back at Aizen “It’s over, Aizen! This war ends here! Your ‘army’ is defeated and soon you will go to hell with them!”
He adjusted his sitting pose once more, propping his face up with his palm. His smile grew as he listened “Hmm. Certainly the Arrancar are dead, the Esparda have fallen and you stand here now but.. how can you be so sure that it is ‘over’?” He motioned to his sword “In truth I have no need for an army of Hollows. I can bring you to your knees without the help of brute force. In truth this is all a bit of fun, I wanted to see how well the Hōgyoku works before I used it upon myself. I never needed these creatures to ascend to Heaven.”
It was clear his words had startled the boy, he could not hide his emotions very well. Had he been expecting a defeated opponent? Aizen watched the spectacle of emotions sweep Ichigo’s face; shock, annoyance, anger, determination and finally hate.
“I’m sure that I can defeat you! I’m going to defeat you!” He rose the cleaver blade; his Shikai called ‘Zangetsu’. Aizen already knew what was coming, the boy relied on his Bankai too much.
“BAN KAI!” Ichigo shouted, his body surrounded by a bright aura. Aizen watched, with emotionless features as Ichigo performed his ritual transformation. Once the aura had died down and the light had swirled and disappeared, Ichigo stood in his typical tattered black attire with his daitō-style (Japanese Long Sword) black blade.
“Tensa Zangetsu.” He said, though he did not need to as Aizen had already heard the name enough times.
“Yes, yes.” Aizen said with a slightly exasperated tone “Must you bore me with this performance again? I have seen you use these powers of yours several times. Do you have anything new to show me Kurosaki Ichigo?”
Ichigo clenched his teeth, clearly Aizen knew how to get under the boys skin and annoy him. He gripped the blade tightly and shouted “Shut up! I don’t need new skills to defeat you!!”
He charged forward, towards the throne, the black blade poised – ready to attack.
---
He spoke, called out “Tell me, blade, what is your name?”
Laughter rang in his ear, the blade laughed at him with a voice that sounded like the chords of a broken piano – a harsh c note of a laugh.
“You won’t tell me?” He asked.
“I won’t tell you.” It stated “You will find it. Amidst the lies. Inside the smoke and mirrors.”
“Find it…” He repeated “So you intend to challenge me.”
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
The world of darkness changed, without warning, and he found himself stood in a garden. Like a vision of paradise, a place of sweet fragrance and vivid pastel-shaded flowers. Water tricked with harmonious brilliance from bamboo fountains, the moon made the water twinkle like liquid silver.
“Within this world, within my garden, is my name.” The blade said.
Aizen wondered, what was symbolic and important about the garden. He was aware that he should not be standing in a garden – he was in the Hall of Swords (wasn’t he?). Yet the smell of flowers was pungent – like a strong perfume it filled his head. The water was loud, and cold he discovered as he dipped his fingers in to it.
He looked to the blade, floating in the sky, he shook his head “You play such silly games. Blade.”
The blade replied, slightly annoyed at the mockery “If it’s so silly then hurry up and answer.”
“Your name could never be answered by such a sad little illusion. I know as well as you do that you want me.” He stood and approached the sword, he continued to speak with his rational, velvet smooth voice. “I know that you desire my hand curled around your hilt, strong and guiding. Even with all your power, it is meaningless without a strong will to use you. Do you think another like me will come? How long will you wait for another such as I? A millennia? Eternity?”
The sword wavered in the gentle evening breeze “. . . Eternity. . .” it repeated “I have already waited Eternity.”
“Then come to my hand, and become mine. I am your master. Tell me your name.” His voice was commanding, strong and urging.
The blade fell from the sky, in to his outstretched hand, in to his palm. It landed with a soft clank, cool as jade once more in his hands. Its voice sounded more tuned, more attuned, like a soft Piano sonnet “Kyōka Suigetsu, that is my name.”
He smiled “Kyōka Suigetsu.” It tingled in his mouth.
The blade continued to speak “To call forth this power I have shown to you on this day… you will have to learn the rituals of my perfect technique. Kanzen Saimin. The most perfect of illusions. If you can learn the ritual then you can control anyone, even the Gods. Such is my power.”
For now he did not care so much about the rituals. He would enjoy forcing the information out of the blade later. He was aware that he had wasted a lot of time within the Hall of Swords and soon people would come looking for him.
“Break your illusion.” He told the blade.
“You break it.” The blade replied.
He rose the blade “Very well. Kudakero!” he commanded and the illusions shattered like glass. He was stood back in the Hall of Swords, the blade in his hand. “So that’s how I break your little spells?”
“Hardly little.” The blade retorted “But yes… That is how you break all of my illusions.”
He caressed the blade, feeling it tremble under his touch “Yes… you will do nicely, Kyōka Suigetsu, I have much use of you.”
---
In a flurry of tattered black and a shock of orange Ichigo appeared in front of Aizen, his blade poised to strike the man who sat calmly in his throne. Aizen’s hand rose and caught the black blade. A motion that was reminiscent in both their minds of the first encounter – the one at Sōkyoku. Ichigo struggled to pull away, fearful of a repeat of the last time Aizen caught his blade.
Aizen watched with amusement as Ichigo weakly struggled to prize the blade away from his strong grip. It was a futile gesture – until Aizen let go there was nothing Ichigo could do.
“Oh my,” Aizen commented “not the best of starts, is it? Kurosaki Ichigo.”
Ichigo snarled between clenched teeth “Shut up!” he persisted in trying to pull the blade free.
It came loose, with a yelp Ichigo tumbled off of the throne and down a few feet to the floor below. Aizen smiled more “Do you expect me to take you seriously?” he asked as Ichigo picked himself up.
Even he had to admit it did not look good – Ichigo was aware that Aizen was toying with him. This was all a game, the only think Ichigo could rely on was the overconfidence of his opponent. Aizen was so sure that nothing could touch him, that none could defeat him. That would be his only chance – to take the opponent by surprise.
He moved swiftly, almost flying, towards Aizen his blade poised for another strike. This time a direct strike with the intent of piercing Aizen’s heart (if he had one). He made a growling roar as he neared the seated man, Tensa Zangetsu drew nearer to its target.
His frontal assault worked no better, he found himself face-first on the floor once more. Aizen had smacked him across the head and knocked him back down to the ground. Shakily Ichigo picked himself up, cursing as he stood up.
“Damn it!” Ichigo snarled as he turned to look up at Aizen, the man smirked down at him.
---
“How was it Sōsuke -kun?” one of the supervisors approached him with a smile.
Aizen returned the smile and nodded “It went well. I obtained the blade I wanted.”
“That’s good isn’t it?” the supervisor said before turning to the next student and motioning for them to enter.
He left with Kyōka Suigetsu in hand, back to his dorm room. Laying the sword on a pile of cushions that littered his futon he sat before it. His eyes scanned over it, taking in each small detail of the blade, the shape of the tsuba, the rich green of the hilt. He took pleasure from the knowledge that behind its unassuming form was a power so terrible and great – and he owned it. Gripping the blade he drew it from its scabbard and held it up to the window, where light filtered in over it.
“Tell me, Kyōka Suigetsu, what is your form?” he asked it.
“Form?” The sword mocked ignorance.
“Don’t play with me.” His eyes narrowed as he looked up at the blade “What spirit is trapped within your metal shell.”
The blade was hesitant, but Aizen was intent on his question “I refuse to speak on this matter.” The sword responded, formally.
His hand gripped tighter around the swords hilt “You will tell me, Kyōka Suigetsu. You will expose your secrets to me.” He told the blade with a mix of omnipotence and force.
“… How do you hope to enlist my willingness, Aizen Sōsuke?”
He chuckled, the blade played games with him as he played games with all of Soul Society and his response would be vital in showing the blade that he was the master of it and not the other way around. Brown eyes narrowed to snake-like slits, he observed the blade as it proudly resisted him. “How will I enlist your willingness…” he repeated “I wonder…”
He rose from the futon and left his room, leaving the male barracks, down a flight of stairs, down another flight, deep in to the bowels of Soul Society. In to an underground training facility, covered in blood-thirst stone to protect against reihatsu-based battles.
He closed the door behind him, bathing the room in gloom he drew the sword from his hip and laid it on the floor. He sat in front of it “Kyōka Suigetsu.” He addressed the blade “You should know that my touch can be gentle or it can fill you with pain. You accepted me as your master and you will do as your master asks. I asked you to bare your secrets to me. I will ask you one more time. Show me your true form, show me what lies beneath your shell of metal.”
“As I told you, Aizen Sōsuke, I refuse to speak on this subject.”
He smiled, but it was not an action of happiness it was a grim smile as if it saddened him that he would have to punish the blade “I suppose I can not blame you for your resistance, I would hide my own greatness if questioned. Still it relieves me that you are predictable, Kyōka Suigetsu. It means I know how to coax every last detail from you…”
For a moment he thought he saw the blade tremble slightly.
---
Aizen rose from his throne, reaching for the blade at his side he unsheathed it and prepared to finish off his opponent. Ichigo lunged, swinging the black blade “Getsuga Tenshō!!” he shouted as crescents of red-tinted black light cut through the air. Aizen slashed at the blades with his own. The light split and dispersed either side of him.
“Is that all, Kurosaki Ichigo? Getsuga Tenshō is that all I have to overcome to defeat you? Or will you ever show me something interesting?” Aizen shrugged his shoulders at his opponent, as if he were waiting for something better.
The boys hand was already raising to his face, to claw inside himself and call out his Hollow mask. He dug inside his soul, pulling out the side of him that he had yet to fully understand but had to rely on for extra strength. The mask of white with crimson markings. A symbol of his transition between human, Shinigami and Hollow.
Aizen was aware of this power, but had not had much chance to see it – Ichigo could not hold it long enough to truly observe it but it did not matter because it would all be over soon.
Something felt wrong, Aizen looked down with mild amusement – his sword was gone. Ichigo had knocked it from his hand as he struck, it was clear that his Hollow-side was much stronger than the original boy. For a moment Aizen forgot about his sword and distanced himself from the enraged boy, calling forth his kidō – he intended to give the boy a taste of the ‘black coffin’ – Kurohitsugi.
Ichigo charged forward, as if he knew what Aizen intended for him, he moved towards the man with his sword prepared to strike. The black blade came close to Aizen’s neck, there were inches between the sharp tip and skin. Ichigo looked around as the black box surrounded him – too late.
The darkness enfolded him, he heard the humming of energy all around him and the sudden red hot flash of pain as several dark ‘blades’ passed through him – lacerating him from head to toe. He screamed within the dark prison, but it was a futile gesture his screaming reached no ones ears. Aizen smiled, he knew the boy would be screaming in agony as the spell consumed him.
He decided it was too cruel to allow the blades to turn the boy in to mincemeat, he called the attack off – just as he had with Komamura. Chuckling at himself he reached the conclusion that he was just too kind for his own good.
Ichigo fell in a spray of blood and hit the floor with a thud – he moaned in agony as his torn body collided with unforgiving stone. He could barely see, his nerves were filled with white-hot pain, every part of his body was cut, torn, ripped and oozing blood. His dark clothes were saturated in crimson.
Aizen closed his eyes, he could smell the boys blood like an overpowering wine – he relished in the scent of torture. He moved towards the boy a sadistic smile graced his lips as he looked down at the helpless piece of orange-haired ‘roadkill’.
“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Aizen said “would you like to remind me of the things you said to me? How you were going to end this all and defeat me? It does not look too hopeful now does it?”
---
The sword was naked, out of it’s scabbard and exposed, he stroked his index finger against the sharpened edge of the blade. Blood seeped over the metal, staining it, he continued to drag his finger down the blade from tip to base. Covering it in a thin sheen of blood, his lips did not express pain – his eyes did not even flicker with discomfort as he cut himself on the blade.
He knew the sword was confused and curious, perhaps it even wondered if it had driven him to suicide through its’ lack of willingness. He chuckled and murmured “Do not flatter yourself, Kyōka Suigetsu, you have not driven me near the edge.”
His hand started to glow with violet fire, a spell, the flames spread over the trail of blood, burning against the sword. As the edge of the blade burned, he traced his nails along the metal – it produced a wonderfully blood curdling scream. Like nails on chalk board. A scream that tickled the ears and tormented the nerves, he loved it.
A few feet from the blade he saw something starting to form, a body, it writhed and whimpered. He dug his nails harder against the blade and the spirit-body in the distance started to twist and jerk with even more animation. He lifted the blade passed his hand over the fire, the flames disappeared from its edge. He approached the spirit to get a good look at the face of his sword.
He stopped a few steps from it and rose an eyebrow, he was not amused. Laying on the floor was a vision of himself. “What is this?” He asked the blade in a voice like a displeased father.
“I…It is … me…” the blade panted, as if it had been put through hideous tortures “I … am as a mirror… I reflect the face of my owner. What can you expect of me?”
He chuckled “Hmm.. So you are faceless? Without a true identity. A lost vessel waiting to be filled by a stronger presence.”
The image of himself nodded slightly “… Yes. I have no face… I have always been a reflection of the one that holds me.”
Aizen crouched down before himself, his lips curled to a smirk “Ah. I see. Well then, Kyōka Suigetsu have you decided to yield to me yet?”
The image of himself looked down, unable to meet his eyes – a sign of the blades submission. It nodded slowly “As you wish, ō-sama..”
He liked it, being called ‘king’ by his blade, he accepted the blades submission and sheathed it away. Settling it upon his hip he stood and left the training room – satisfied that the master had been established.
---
Ichigo could not move, he could not even breathe properly so stopping Aizen mid-gloat was almost out of the question. His mask had faded the second the blades of Kurohitsugi had struck. He knew he was powerless.
Aizen pondered “I wonder what would happen if I used the Hōgyoku on you?” he smiled “What kind of curious things would it do to you I wonder? Shall we find out?”
Ichigo squirmed, suddenly he was afraid of his position. He could handle pain, he could handle wounds but the thought of being experimented upon by someone like Aizen was too much. He struggled, his wounds protested and stopped his movements.
Aizen reached down for Ichigo, but his hand stopped mid-way, the boy looked up to see why everything was quiet and why the hand never reached him.
Aizen’s eyes were wide, a display of surprise, he gasped slightly his voice trembling. A sword was poking through his chest, he craned his head back to see who had stabbed him.
A ghostly image of a woman, holding his sword – his Kyōka Suigetsu! He closed his eyes and muttered “So… you never showed me your true face?”
“You never showed me yours” Kyōka Suigetsu replied with a frown.
“…” he nodded “So I didn’t. Still we made a good union, did we not? If you had stayed with me you could have ruled the world.”
“No. You viewed nothing as your equal, even I who possessed the same amount of power as you. I was only ever going to be your tool, ō-sama…” The female frowned and looked down.
Aizen chuckled “You would still call me king…. Even as you commit your act of treason against me?”
“You committed the first sin when you decided to burn your mark upon my blade! If you had only regarded me as more than a piece of metal perhaps I would have served you for Eternity.”
Aizen closed his eyes “I expected everyone around me… Gin, Tousen and even Ulquiorra… I never suspected that I would fall to my own sword.”
“My appologies, ō-sama, but it is over.” Kyōka Suigetsu ripped the blade from his chest and he fell forward. She crouched beside him, still holding her material form in her hands as she looked at him.
He looked at her, seeing the blades ‘face’ for the first time he snorted “… I see. Well until next time, Kyōka Suigetsu.”
She held up the blade “There is no next time for the souls of Hell..” She lightly pressed the hilt of the blade to his forehead – a mimic of the Konsō (soul burial). The gates of Hell swung open and drew his soul in, they slammed shut. He had said nothing as the Demons of Hell dragged him to meet their master. He had just looked at his sword and smiled – a dark smile.
-Fin~!
About: A mix of things surrounding Aizen's Zanpaktō - Kyōka Suigetsu, some of this is from the 'Past' when Aizen first meets his blade and then there are segments of the 'future' of Bleach. With my own possible conclusion to the series...
:3 Totally ficticious, just a bit of fun on my part. I tried to use correct terms for things but I'm neither a Japanese expert nor a master of swords - so I appologise to the experts out there if some of my terminology is wrong / out of place~! <3
Warnings: Hmm 'slight' hints of a sexual nature...? (Honestly there is NO sex and no pairings, it's just one of my friends said it makes her think of sex so I warn ye all...)
There is a shock at the end (kind of)...
(( this is kind of a 'song fic' in that I took the song Kyōka Suigetsu and added it to the beginning - for no reason other than I like to do so :3 <3 ))
I hope you enjoy my short story!! Comments are appreciated - be gentle as I'm not a professional writer I did this for fun and to share with everyone!!
A blade that mirrors its master | a master that mirrors his blade.
Seijaku no sajou Miwatasu hito toki
Koe ni naranu koe wo Kokoro ni egaku
Namanurui hibi ni Namanuruku hitaru
Orokamono tachi ga Ononoku koe wo
Kagami ni utsuru tsuki ga terasu azayaka na sekai
Mitoreru egao goto Subete
Kudakechiru ga ii sa...
Kewashii hoereba Yowasa ga nijimide
Uyamai sugireba Rikai erarenu
Jiwa jiwa to kawaru Henka wo shiranai
Yowakimono tachi yo Tanoshimu ga ii
Kagami ni utsuru hana ga iyasu kiyorakana nioi
Yume miru kokoro goto Subete
Kudakechiru sadame yo...
Kagami ni utsuru tsuki ga terasu azayaka na sekai
Mitoreru egao goto Subete
Kudakechiru sadame yo...
Kagami ni utusuru mizu ga egaku yawaraka na kehai
Afureru kibou goto Subete
Kudakechiru ga ii sa...
Mitoreru egao goto Subete
Kudakechiru ga ii sa...
The Hall of Swords. That was the semi-official title for the place where Shinigami acquired their Zanpaktou. Through out the academy it was custom to give the trainees low-level, nameless Zanpaktou. There were few exceptions; Being of the aristocratic rule, being particularly gifted or already possessing a Zanpakuto.
It was only near graduation that a Shinigami-in-training was allowed to enter the Hall of Swords and call out to the many blades in search of the one that matched their own soul.
---
Aizen sat on his throne, in Hueco Mundo, looking down at the simple, naked, form of Kyōka Suigetsu. The steel of the blade shimmered like moonlight on water – a pure silver. He caressed the metal, brushing dangerously close to the sharpened edge. His fingers traced the simple tsuba (‘sword guard’ or possibly ‘cross guard’), a smile curls his lips. He had thought when he first set eyes on the blade that it was too simple – boring. Now, however, he had nothing but admiration for this simplicity. It hid such terrible and wonderful powers that if it had been too elaborate it would have been obvious. His fingers drifted over the hilt, wrapped in tightly bound green cloth. The sword seemed to vibrate to his touch, not a strong sensation but merely a feeling of reihatsu stroking his fingers in a mock touch. He smiled, Kyōka Suigetsu had always been a playful blade.
---
He walked down the long hall, weapons presented themselves in several forms – the blades responded to his reihatsu and some instantly began to mature in to their Shikai – even to Bankai. A display that inflated his ego at the knowledge of his power. He had always hid his true potential as he walked around the academy, no one knew, but these swords could not help but expose themselves to him. A display of submission, of need for his greater power.
He dismissed them all.
Aizen did not desire the blades that could so easily reveal all of their secrets to him – where was the fun in that? These weak blades that could not resist his power, they displayed their lack of potential. He passed several – one that had uncoiled from a simple blade in to a massive snake of bones. That one was too cumbersome – too ugly. He passed it and the creature hung its head – knowing it had been rejected.
Another one evolved, from a simple blade to a collection of petals that shimmered with their own light. They developed in to a flurry of petals, he caught one in his hand noting how the petals were thin pieces of sharp metal he briefly admired their deadly beauty. One such petal cut his finger. Blood tickled his thumb. With a scowl he discarded the small blade and moved on. The petals were equally ashamed of their rejection.
A multitude of blades a collection of unique, and boring, powers. None of them could hold his interest. None of them could provide him with a tingle – that was what they said at the Academy; “ ‘Your’ Zanpaktou will fill your stomach with a fluttering tingle. You will know that you have found that which matches your spirit when it causes your innermost being to ache and call out to it. Just as your Reihatsu calls to it.”
He had yet to know this sensation.
---
Lifting the katana up to the sky he observed the delicate curve of the blade, not an abnormality but a graceful curl to its proud form. Such a simple outer shell yet it possessed a greatness that he felt was reflected in himself. His smile grew, his reflection in the blade smiled back.
“Kyōka Suigetsu..” He murmured, rolling the words on his tongue – feeling their non-existent weight. Remembering how it had felt to say the words for the first time, when the sword first revealed its name –and face to him.
---
It had swept over him like a tidal wave, an ache, a tingle – something so strong it made his fingertips prickle with invisible pins and needles. He looked for the source of this new and delightful sensation, his eyes searching for the blade that mimicked his own powerful presence.
He noted that at the back of the Hall of Swords a lone blade hung. It was alone, no other sword occupied the wall, the ceiling or the floor around it. A distinct barrier between this lone weapon and all the others. An outcast. He approached it, his eyes no longer focused on the other blades.
He neared it – expecting it to bloom before his great and suffocating reihatsu, however the blade made no movements. The smile that had formed on his lips since he felt the blades presence had grown. He reached out for it, desiring to feel the weight of it, to see the colour of its blade, to inspect the tsuba. To his surprise the blade moved, drifting out of his reach. He pursued it, following it in to a dark space. When he turned his head to look back, he could no longer see the Hall of Swords, he was surrounded by this darkened space. Trapped in a world of Darkness.
The blade had stopped ‘running’ (if indeed a blade could ever be described as ‘running’). It was floating in the centre of the dark world. He approached it, he was close enough to reach out and grab it, the blade did not move. Had it decided to stop evading him?
---
“Aizen-sama.”
A voice broke his silent admiration of his sword, brown eyes looked down from the height of the throne to see whom the owner of the voice was. Ulquiorra, his loyal and devoted servant.
“Look. Your pet has arrived.”
The blade mumbled in his ear, sarcastically – he smiled at the comment.
“Is there a problem, Ulquiorra?” Aizen asked, with mild curiosity.
“Aizen-sama, I felt you should know.” Ulquiorra started, his green eyes never leaving Aizen’s – as if he were captured by their gaze “.. The boy, Ichigo, is nearly here. Nearly at the Throne Room.”
“I see.” Aizen murmured, his eyes closing “Go to your room, Ulquiorra, I shall send our enemy away.”
Ulquiorra nodded, he would never argue against his masters confident words “Yes, Aizen-sama.”
---
A moment passed in slow motion, he watched the blade silently. Not with awe or fear of the blades presence, but with mirth and understanding. Their spirits brushed, not quite intimate enough to be considered a caress but a chaste collision. Like a rock and a hard place – pressed firm against one another.
He enjoyed the pressure.
The sword seemed to mimic his feeling, he could tell because the sword started to seep more spiritual pressure. Finally the moment passed, his fingers spread out towards the blade. He touched the scabbard, unlike most Japanese blades it was not made of wood – he had expected it to be a saya-type of scabbard (a type of wooden scabbard), instead this blade possessed a metal one. It was cool against his fingers, a slight thrum of something akin to electricity passed through him. It did not hurt, it just tingled against him as if the blade had fingertips and was attempting to touch him in the same was he touched it.
It was the most curious sensation he had felt, the feeling of another being mimicking him spiritually. Mimicking the curiosity of his soul, mimicking the power of his presence – like a mirror that reflected his whole being in a new form. It was almost hard to comprehend that a mass of materials could represent such complex aspects of his inner most being.
---
“Getsuga Tenshō!!” Ichigo’s voice rumbled from behind the large doors of the throne room.
The stone doors collapsed in to a confetti of pebbles and dust, instantly dirtying the impeccably clean room that Aizen sat in. It irked the man upon his throne, slightly, that this ‘boy’ was messing up his home. It was not enough of a feeling to express facially – just an inner annoyance.
His eyes looked down upon the orange haired, faux Shinigami he smiled and crossed one leg over the other as he sat “Yokoso, Kurosaki Ichigo.” He welcomed his guest with a hint of enjoyment.
Ichigo ignored the welcome and spat words back at Aizen “It’s over, Aizen! This war ends here! Your ‘army’ is defeated and soon you will go to hell with them!”
He adjusted his sitting pose once more, propping his face up with his palm. His smile grew as he listened “Hmm. Certainly the Arrancar are dead, the Esparda have fallen and you stand here now but.. how can you be so sure that it is ‘over’?” He motioned to his sword “In truth I have no need for an army of Hollows. I can bring you to your knees without the help of brute force. In truth this is all a bit of fun, I wanted to see how well the Hōgyoku works before I used it upon myself. I never needed these creatures to ascend to Heaven.”
It was clear his words had startled the boy, he could not hide his emotions very well. Had he been expecting a defeated opponent? Aizen watched the spectacle of emotions sweep Ichigo’s face; shock, annoyance, anger, determination and finally hate.
“I’m sure that I can defeat you! I’m going to defeat you!” He rose the cleaver blade; his Shikai called ‘Zangetsu’. Aizen already knew what was coming, the boy relied on his Bankai too much.
“BAN KAI!” Ichigo shouted, his body surrounded by a bright aura. Aizen watched, with emotionless features as Ichigo performed his ritual transformation. Once the aura had died down and the light had swirled and disappeared, Ichigo stood in his typical tattered black attire with his daitō-style (Japanese Long Sword) black blade.
“Tensa Zangetsu.” He said, though he did not need to as Aizen had already heard the name enough times.
“Yes, yes.” Aizen said with a slightly exasperated tone “Must you bore me with this performance again? I have seen you use these powers of yours several times. Do you have anything new to show me Kurosaki Ichigo?”
Ichigo clenched his teeth, clearly Aizen knew how to get under the boys skin and annoy him. He gripped the blade tightly and shouted “Shut up! I don’t need new skills to defeat you!!”
He charged forward, towards the throne, the black blade poised – ready to attack.
---
He spoke, called out “Tell me, blade, what is your name?”
Laughter rang in his ear, the blade laughed at him with a voice that sounded like the chords of a broken piano – a harsh c note of a laugh.
“You won’t tell me?” He asked.
“I won’t tell you.” It stated “You will find it. Amidst the lies. Inside the smoke and mirrors.”
“Find it…” He repeated “So you intend to challenge me.”
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
The world of darkness changed, without warning, and he found himself stood in a garden. Like a vision of paradise, a place of sweet fragrance and vivid pastel-shaded flowers. Water tricked with harmonious brilliance from bamboo fountains, the moon made the water twinkle like liquid silver.
“Within this world, within my garden, is my name.” The blade said.
Aizen wondered, what was symbolic and important about the garden. He was aware that he should not be standing in a garden – he was in the Hall of Swords (wasn’t he?). Yet the smell of flowers was pungent – like a strong perfume it filled his head. The water was loud, and cold he discovered as he dipped his fingers in to it.
He looked to the blade, floating in the sky, he shook his head “You play such silly games. Blade.”
The blade replied, slightly annoyed at the mockery “If it’s so silly then hurry up and answer.”
“Your name could never be answered by such a sad little illusion. I know as well as you do that you want me.” He stood and approached the sword, he continued to speak with his rational, velvet smooth voice. “I know that you desire my hand curled around your hilt, strong and guiding. Even with all your power, it is meaningless without a strong will to use you. Do you think another like me will come? How long will you wait for another such as I? A millennia? Eternity?”
The sword wavered in the gentle evening breeze “. . . Eternity. . .” it repeated “I have already waited Eternity.”
“Then come to my hand, and become mine. I am your master. Tell me your name.” His voice was commanding, strong and urging.
The blade fell from the sky, in to his outstretched hand, in to his palm. It landed with a soft clank, cool as jade once more in his hands. Its voice sounded more tuned, more attuned, like a soft Piano sonnet “Kyōka Suigetsu, that is my name.”
He smiled “Kyōka Suigetsu.” It tingled in his mouth.
The blade continued to speak “To call forth this power I have shown to you on this day… you will have to learn the rituals of my perfect technique. Kanzen Saimin. The most perfect of illusions. If you can learn the ritual then you can control anyone, even the Gods. Such is my power.”
For now he did not care so much about the rituals. He would enjoy forcing the information out of the blade later. He was aware that he had wasted a lot of time within the Hall of Swords and soon people would come looking for him.
“Break your illusion.” He told the blade.
“You break it.” The blade replied.
He rose the blade “Very well. Kudakero!” he commanded and the illusions shattered like glass. He was stood back in the Hall of Swords, the blade in his hand. “So that’s how I break your little spells?”
“Hardly little.” The blade retorted “But yes… That is how you break all of my illusions.”
He caressed the blade, feeling it tremble under his touch “Yes… you will do nicely, Kyōka Suigetsu, I have much use of you.”
---
In a flurry of tattered black and a shock of orange Ichigo appeared in front of Aizen, his blade poised to strike the man who sat calmly in his throne. Aizen’s hand rose and caught the black blade. A motion that was reminiscent in both their minds of the first encounter – the one at Sōkyoku. Ichigo struggled to pull away, fearful of a repeat of the last time Aizen caught his blade.
Aizen watched with amusement as Ichigo weakly struggled to prize the blade away from his strong grip. It was a futile gesture – until Aizen let go there was nothing Ichigo could do.
“Oh my,” Aizen commented “not the best of starts, is it? Kurosaki Ichigo.”
Ichigo snarled between clenched teeth “Shut up!” he persisted in trying to pull the blade free.
It came loose, with a yelp Ichigo tumbled off of the throne and down a few feet to the floor below. Aizen smiled more “Do you expect me to take you seriously?” he asked as Ichigo picked himself up.
Even he had to admit it did not look good – Ichigo was aware that Aizen was toying with him. This was all a game, the only think Ichigo could rely on was the overconfidence of his opponent. Aizen was so sure that nothing could touch him, that none could defeat him. That would be his only chance – to take the opponent by surprise.
He moved swiftly, almost flying, towards Aizen his blade poised for another strike. This time a direct strike with the intent of piercing Aizen’s heart (if he had one). He made a growling roar as he neared the seated man, Tensa Zangetsu drew nearer to its target.
His frontal assault worked no better, he found himself face-first on the floor once more. Aizen had smacked him across the head and knocked him back down to the ground. Shakily Ichigo picked himself up, cursing as he stood up.
“Damn it!” Ichigo snarled as he turned to look up at Aizen, the man smirked down at him.
---
“How was it Sōsuke -kun?” one of the supervisors approached him with a smile.
Aizen returned the smile and nodded “It went well. I obtained the blade I wanted.”
“That’s good isn’t it?” the supervisor said before turning to the next student and motioning for them to enter.
He left with Kyōka Suigetsu in hand, back to his dorm room. Laying the sword on a pile of cushions that littered his futon he sat before it. His eyes scanned over it, taking in each small detail of the blade, the shape of the tsuba, the rich green of the hilt. He took pleasure from the knowledge that behind its unassuming form was a power so terrible and great – and he owned it. Gripping the blade he drew it from its scabbard and held it up to the window, where light filtered in over it.
“Tell me, Kyōka Suigetsu, what is your form?” he asked it.
“Form?” The sword mocked ignorance.
“Don’t play with me.” His eyes narrowed as he looked up at the blade “What spirit is trapped within your metal shell.”
The blade was hesitant, but Aizen was intent on his question “I refuse to speak on this matter.” The sword responded, formally.
His hand gripped tighter around the swords hilt “You will tell me, Kyōka Suigetsu. You will expose your secrets to me.” He told the blade with a mix of omnipotence and force.
“… How do you hope to enlist my willingness, Aizen Sōsuke?”
He chuckled, the blade played games with him as he played games with all of Soul Society and his response would be vital in showing the blade that he was the master of it and not the other way around. Brown eyes narrowed to snake-like slits, he observed the blade as it proudly resisted him. “How will I enlist your willingness…” he repeated “I wonder…”
He rose from the futon and left his room, leaving the male barracks, down a flight of stairs, down another flight, deep in to the bowels of Soul Society. In to an underground training facility, covered in blood-thirst stone to protect against reihatsu-based battles.
He closed the door behind him, bathing the room in gloom he drew the sword from his hip and laid it on the floor. He sat in front of it “Kyōka Suigetsu.” He addressed the blade “You should know that my touch can be gentle or it can fill you with pain. You accepted me as your master and you will do as your master asks. I asked you to bare your secrets to me. I will ask you one more time. Show me your true form, show me what lies beneath your shell of metal.”
“As I told you, Aizen Sōsuke, I refuse to speak on this subject.”
He smiled, but it was not an action of happiness it was a grim smile as if it saddened him that he would have to punish the blade “I suppose I can not blame you for your resistance, I would hide my own greatness if questioned. Still it relieves me that you are predictable, Kyōka Suigetsu. It means I know how to coax every last detail from you…”
For a moment he thought he saw the blade tremble slightly.
---
Aizen rose from his throne, reaching for the blade at his side he unsheathed it and prepared to finish off his opponent. Ichigo lunged, swinging the black blade “Getsuga Tenshō!!” he shouted as crescents of red-tinted black light cut through the air. Aizen slashed at the blades with his own. The light split and dispersed either side of him.
“Is that all, Kurosaki Ichigo? Getsuga Tenshō is that all I have to overcome to defeat you? Or will you ever show me something interesting?” Aizen shrugged his shoulders at his opponent, as if he were waiting for something better.
The boys hand was already raising to his face, to claw inside himself and call out his Hollow mask. He dug inside his soul, pulling out the side of him that he had yet to fully understand but had to rely on for extra strength. The mask of white with crimson markings. A symbol of his transition between human, Shinigami and Hollow.
Aizen was aware of this power, but had not had much chance to see it – Ichigo could not hold it long enough to truly observe it but it did not matter because it would all be over soon.
Something felt wrong, Aizen looked down with mild amusement – his sword was gone. Ichigo had knocked it from his hand as he struck, it was clear that his Hollow-side was much stronger than the original boy. For a moment Aizen forgot about his sword and distanced himself from the enraged boy, calling forth his kidō – he intended to give the boy a taste of the ‘black coffin’ – Kurohitsugi.
Ichigo charged forward, as if he knew what Aizen intended for him, he moved towards the man with his sword prepared to strike. The black blade came close to Aizen’s neck, there were inches between the sharp tip and skin. Ichigo looked around as the black box surrounded him – too late.
The darkness enfolded him, he heard the humming of energy all around him and the sudden red hot flash of pain as several dark ‘blades’ passed through him – lacerating him from head to toe. He screamed within the dark prison, but it was a futile gesture his screaming reached no ones ears. Aizen smiled, he knew the boy would be screaming in agony as the spell consumed him.
He decided it was too cruel to allow the blades to turn the boy in to mincemeat, he called the attack off – just as he had with Komamura. Chuckling at himself he reached the conclusion that he was just too kind for his own good.
Ichigo fell in a spray of blood and hit the floor with a thud – he moaned in agony as his torn body collided with unforgiving stone. He could barely see, his nerves were filled with white-hot pain, every part of his body was cut, torn, ripped and oozing blood. His dark clothes were saturated in crimson.
Aizen closed his eyes, he could smell the boys blood like an overpowering wine – he relished in the scent of torture. He moved towards the boy a sadistic smile graced his lips as he looked down at the helpless piece of orange-haired ‘roadkill’.
“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Aizen said “would you like to remind me of the things you said to me? How you were going to end this all and defeat me? It does not look too hopeful now does it?”
---
The sword was naked, out of it’s scabbard and exposed, he stroked his index finger against the sharpened edge of the blade. Blood seeped over the metal, staining it, he continued to drag his finger down the blade from tip to base. Covering it in a thin sheen of blood, his lips did not express pain – his eyes did not even flicker with discomfort as he cut himself on the blade.
He knew the sword was confused and curious, perhaps it even wondered if it had driven him to suicide through its’ lack of willingness. He chuckled and murmured “Do not flatter yourself, Kyōka Suigetsu, you have not driven me near the edge.”
His hand started to glow with violet fire, a spell, the flames spread over the trail of blood, burning against the sword. As the edge of the blade burned, he traced his nails along the metal – it produced a wonderfully blood curdling scream. Like nails on chalk board. A scream that tickled the ears and tormented the nerves, he loved it.
A few feet from the blade he saw something starting to form, a body, it writhed and whimpered. He dug his nails harder against the blade and the spirit-body in the distance started to twist and jerk with even more animation. He lifted the blade passed his hand over the fire, the flames disappeared from its edge. He approached the spirit to get a good look at the face of his sword.
He stopped a few steps from it and rose an eyebrow, he was not amused. Laying on the floor was a vision of himself. “What is this?” He asked the blade in a voice like a displeased father.
“I…It is … me…” the blade panted, as if it had been put through hideous tortures “I … am as a mirror… I reflect the face of my owner. What can you expect of me?”
He chuckled “Hmm.. So you are faceless? Without a true identity. A lost vessel waiting to be filled by a stronger presence.”
The image of himself nodded slightly “… Yes. I have no face… I have always been a reflection of the one that holds me.”
Aizen crouched down before himself, his lips curled to a smirk “Ah. I see. Well then, Kyōka Suigetsu have you decided to yield to me yet?”
The image of himself looked down, unable to meet his eyes – a sign of the blades submission. It nodded slowly “As you wish, ō-sama..”
He liked it, being called ‘king’ by his blade, he accepted the blades submission and sheathed it away. Settling it upon his hip he stood and left the training room – satisfied that the master had been established.
---
Ichigo could not move, he could not even breathe properly so stopping Aizen mid-gloat was almost out of the question. His mask had faded the second the blades of Kurohitsugi had struck. He knew he was powerless.
Aizen pondered “I wonder what would happen if I used the Hōgyoku on you?” he smiled “What kind of curious things would it do to you I wonder? Shall we find out?”
Ichigo squirmed, suddenly he was afraid of his position. He could handle pain, he could handle wounds but the thought of being experimented upon by someone like Aizen was too much. He struggled, his wounds protested and stopped his movements.
Aizen reached down for Ichigo, but his hand stopped mid-way, the boy looked up to see why everything was quiet and why the hand never reached him.
Aizen’s eyes were wide, a display of surprise, he gasped slightly his voice trembling. A sword was poking through his chest, he craned his head back to see who had stabbed him.
A ghostly image of a woman, holding his sword – his Kyōka Suigetsu! He closed his eyes and muttered “So… you never showed me your true face?”
“You never showed me yours” Kyōka Suigetsu replied with a frown.
“…” he nodded “So I didn’t. Still we made a good union, did we not? If you had stayed with me you could have ruled the world.”
“No. You viewed nothing as your equal, even I who possessed the same amount of power as you. I was only ever going to be your tool, ō-sama…” The female frowned and looked down.
Aizen chuckled “You would still call me king…. Even as you commit your act of treason against me?”
“You committed the first sin when you decided to burn your mark upon my blade! If you had only regarded me as more than a piece of metal perhaps I would have served you for Eternity.”
Aizen closed his eyes “I expected everyone around me… Gin, Tousen and even Ulquiorra… I never suspected that I would fall to my own sword.”
“My appologies, ō-sama, but it is over.” Kyōka Suigetsu ripped the blade from his chest and he fell forward. She crouched beside him, still holding her material form in her hands as she looked at him.
He looked at her, seeing the blades ‘face’ for the first time he snorted “… I see. Well until next time, Kyōka Suigetsu.”
She held up the blade “There is no next time for the souls of Hell..” She lightly pressed the hilt of the blade to his forehead – a mimic of the Konsō (soul burial). The gates of Hell swung open and drew his soul in, they slammed shut. He had said nothing as the Demons of Hell dragged him to meet their master. He had just looked at his sword and smiled – a dark smile.
-Fin~!