Chapter 33: The Gears (Patreon Cut)

Isshin’s eyes slightly widened as he watched his son step beside him, out of thin air.

“That wasn’t shunpo,” he muttered to himself in quiet observation. His son’s narrowed gaze fell on him through the shadow of his long bangs, making Isshin idly remark, “And you need a haircut.”

Ichigo gave a dismissive shrug and said, “Dimensional shifting. It’s faster, literally instantaneous.”

“Huh,” Isshin said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “Could you teach me that?”

Ichigo’s mouth parted, before he closed it with a frown. A look of contemplation marring his lips. “Maybe? Anyways, I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Isshin snorted. “I imagine you had something to do with whatever mess I was sensing last night?”

“You felt that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Son, please. I’m old, not dead.” Isshin then frowned. “Well, technically, I am dead…oh, you know what I mean.”

His son let out a labored sigh as he ran a hand through his long hair. “Look, I don’t have much time, I need to get moving.”

Isshin’s gaze fell sharp, worry worming his way through his chest for his son. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Ichigo shook his head. “I’m fine dad, things just got out of hand and I had to go help and clean up a mess someone else caused. Story of my life. But I need you to keep an eye on Yuzu and Karin. If I call and tell you to leave the country, I need you to do just.”

Isshin looked at him with bewilderment. “Leave the country? What are you talking about? Ichigo, what’s going?”

His son’s eyes shifted before he let out another leaden sigh and said hesitantly “The Veil between the Living and the Dead has been torn.”

Isshin froze on the spot, the air in his lungs going leaden as his pulse grew louder in his ears. “What?”

“Shh!” Ichigo said harshly as he cast a furtive glance towards the ceiling, most likely worrying his sisters will notice his presence.

“The tear isn’t huge,” Ichigo began saying quickly in hushed tones. “But it’s noticeable. Consequential. Shinigami are already swarming the spot. There’s no way Soul Society won’t notice it, and they’re probably doing their best to try and repair it. But given what caused the tear, I doubt they’ll be able to fully repair it.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Isshin raised one hand while pinching the bridge of his nose with he other. “Slow down! Just what the hell happened last night? How did the barriers tear?!”

Ichigo waved him off. “That’s not important right now.”

“The hell it isn’t!” Isshin exclaimed, his voice rising in volume just barely.

“No! It isn’t!” Ichigo grabbed his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “It’s being taken care of! There are literally hundreds, if not thousands, of people trying to fix that. I need you to prioritize Yuzu and Karin. I need you to make sure they get the fuck out of here in the worst-case scenario!”

Isshin stiffened briefly, an odd look crossing his face. A soft pang trilled through his heart, and he reached out a lone hand towards his son’s face…before promptly smacking him upside the head!

“Ow! What the hell, you old goat!” Ichigo backed away and rubbed the back of his head.

Isshin grabbed a fistful of his son’s jacket in each hand and gave an overexaggerated angry glare as he brough his face inches from Ichigo’s. “Huuuh? You brat! You punk! Where do you get off telling me to prioritize the safety of my own kids?! You think I don’t know how to raise you bunch after all these years! And newsflash, rocks for brains! You’re one of my kids too! I wiped your ass when you were a baby! I cleaned up after you when you wet the bed at nine!”

Ichigo blinked at the sudden shift in tone before angrily responding in turn, and he returned the gesture by grabbed a fistful of his dad’s suit jacket. “The fuck do you mean ‘wet the bed at nine?’ I’ve been perfectly potty trained since I was five!”

“Oh-ho! Perhaps I’ll show the pictures after I’m done kicking your ass!”

“You would take pictures of a piss covered bed; you perverted old man!”

“So, you’re not denying it then!”

“Deny my fist!”

However, before either of them could escalate their abrupt scuffle, a shrill voice called out. “What are you two doing!”

Both Kurosaki men looked over to see a flabbergasted Yuzu staring at them angrily. “It’s seven-thirty in the morning! Why are you two yelling at each other!”

“Seriously,” Karin’s grumpy voice trailed from behind her twin. “Can’t we even get ready for school in peace?”

Isshin and his son let go of one another. As he straightened his tie, Isshin cleared his throat and said, “Yes, well. I was just reminding your brother to respect his elders.”

Ichigo sent him a glare from the side, before dropping his gaze much softer. “Look, girls, we need to talk.”

Both sisters glanced at one another, blinking. Suddenly, Yuzu’s hands flew to her mouth as she let out a gasp. “Onii-chan! You got your girlfriend pregnant?!”

Isshin nearly choked on his own spit as his son jolted back.

Karin rolled her eyes before touting out in a dry tone, “You seriously spend too much time reading manga.” But then she turned a shifty gaze towards her older brother. “Unless Ichi-nii…” she trailed off suggestively.

“No!” Ichigo emphatically declared. “Where is this even coming from?!”

Both girls shrugged, and Isshin had to push down the amusement rising through his chest at what was the two obviously riling up their brother. Apple doesn’t fall from the tree, does it Masaki?

“We both kinda noticed you two were gone all night.” Karin casually remarked

His son’s bafflement only grew further.

“Huh? That’s not how pregnancy-” But Ichigo quickly cut himself off and waved at the two sternly with a finger. “I thought we discussed this already. You don’t dwell into my private life, I don’t dwell on yours?”

And then Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Look, before anyone says any other ridiculous thing,” and he sent them all a challenging stare, “I need to tell you I’m going.”

The mood immediately fell somber and both girls visibly stiffened.

“Go where?” Yuzu asked warily.

Ichigo’s voice dipped soft. “I’m sorry, Yuzu, but a thing suddenly came up at work. I have to go back.”

There was a brief second of stunned silence before Isshin flinched as his youngest daughter’s voice pitched high and pierced the house. “What thing?! You just got back!”

Karin crossed her arms, a dark look coming across her face, but Yuzu stomped her foot angrily and continued, her voice rising almost hysterically. “You haven’t even been back for a full week and you’re just leaving us again!?”

“Yuzu…” And Isshin could clearly hear the guilt in his son’s voice and see it even more as his arms just hung lifelessly by his side.

As Yuzu wiped the angry tears forming at the edges of her eyes, she bitterly ground out, “When do you have to go.”

Ichigo hesitated before very slowly saying, “…now.”

Both of the twins’ faces fell and Yuzu yelled, “Now?! As in now, now?!”

Ichigo flinched but nodded his head.

As Yuzu prepared to go off on a tirade on her older brother, Isshin’s eyes fell on Karin, as the teenage girl put a placating hand on her twin’s shoulder.

The dark-haired girl’s brows furrowed as she gave her brother a questioning look. “What exactly is this job, Ichi-nii?”

Ichigo looked taken back, as if he hadn’t expected the question, but he quickly gathered himself and Isshin saw the boy put a hand inside his jacket and pull out a business jacket. Ichigo wordless handed it to Karin, and Yuzu crowded over her sister to glance at it as well.

Karin frowned as she read it out loud. “Senior Executive Co-Vice-President of Order, Morningstar Industries?” Both of them looked up at Ichigo with something akin to awe.

“You’re a vice-president?” Yuzu asked, amazement coloring her voice.

He gave a casual shrug. “It sounds a lot more impressive than it actually is. Trust me.”

They both exchanged another look and, after a moment, seemed to wordlessly come to an agreement. Isshin watched with no small mirth as both teenage girls marched up to their brother and then proceeded to punch him square in the stomach.

“Oof!” Ichigo doubled over and clutched at his abdomen, though Isshin had a strong suspicion the boy was merely putting on a show for the two girls’ benefit.

Karin lifted her chin and imperiously said, “If you pull the same crap again and go radio silent, we’re never going to talk to you again Ichi-nii!.” 

“Stupid Onii-chan!” Yuzu sniffed.

And both girls quickly wrapped their brother up in a hug. Isshin smiled as Ichigo blinked in momentary surprise before warmly returning their embrace. He clasped his son on the back as Ichigo murmured, “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better.”

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As thoughts of his human family drifted through his mind, he stepped through the folds of reality, and Ichigo shifted his focus to his immortal one. Namely, the golden Kyūbi and her palace he had teleported himself into as soon as he left Karakura Town.

Ichigo frowned heavily as he beheld his wife utterly frazzled. It wasn’t in her appearance: no, not a radiant hair was out of place as she sat perfectly genteel in her immaculate royal robes. And it wasn’t in the paleness resting on her cheeks. The milk-white of her skin was her own otherworldly beauty shining through.

No, it was her aura that made Ichigo worry.

In the oceans upon oceans of chakra that lay within her deceptive frame, Ichigo could feel her power churn belligerent and bellicose. It was a testament to her unshakable control that said tumultuous chakra wasn’t tearing through Japan and ripping the land apart.

And yet, as soon as his eyes met her gaze of colored gold, Yasaka threw away all semblance of the word control and tore herself from her chair and, within a nanosecond, she had her arms around his neck and him in an iron strong embrace. Ichigo immediately wrapped his arms tight around her waist, holding her inches off the ground as he dipped his face into her hair.

“Hey there princess,” he gently whispered as he gave the top of her head a firm kiss. He felt her tremble in his arms. Yasaka pulled away from him, and Ichigo set her down, though he kept his arms coiled around her.

Her hands swiftly rose to cup his face, her features marred with concern as her eyes swept over him. Slowly, her hands fell to his shoulders, and Yasaka gaze fretted over him, and Ichigo knew she was checking for injuries.

“I was so worried,” she said, eyes wavering with emotion. He gave her a reassuring smile, and Yasaka lunged back into his embrace, clinging to him as if afraid he might vanish. “Thank the Sun you’re okay.”

They both stood in each other’s embrace for a full minute before Yasaka pulled away again.

Ichigo rubbed her back soothingly. “I’m fine,” he said reassuringly.

Yasaka bit her lower lip and shook her head, locks of blonde hair falling to frame her beautiful face. Her eyes had begun to water. The next thing he knew, she had grabbed a fistful of his hair from the back of his head and yanked him down into a hard kiss.

It wasn’t soft and chaste.

Yasaka kissed him with fervor and desperation. She kissed him with fear-colored need. Her lips moving fast and aggressive. And before he could even respond, he felt his wife slip her tongue past his lips and start to glide over his own. Ichigo responded in kind. Bringing up his hands from her back to just under her jaw, holding her head in place as he kissed her fierce.

Yasaka let out a deep moan into his mouth, which kicked in Ichigo’s primal need. He grew more forceful as he pulled his wife deeper into the kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, forceful and dominant, until he pushed her back into her own mouth. And as he did so, he felt Yasaka close her lips and begin to suck on his tongue.

After several more minutes of the frantic make out session, both of them pulled away, breathing hard. The sight of his wife’s eyes fallen half lidded in lust and her cheeks flushed in arousal made raw desire slam into him. He could feel himself hardening against her, and he knew she could as well.

And yet, that one logical part of his mind prodded him back to rationality, making him push the Devilish urges away. Instead, he reached out again and crushed Yasaka to him, enjoying her softness against his body.

He felt her titanic coils of her chakra expand and relax within his arms as she pressed her head into his shoulder. Ichigo bent down, brushing past her hair with his nose and planting a sweet kiss on her brow.

“Man, do we have a lot to talk about, princess,” he murmured softly against her.

With little ceremony, Ichigo reached down behind her knees and lifted her into his arms. Yasaka immediately pressed herself into his arms, making her seem so small and delicate. He carried her over to their bed, where the sunlight fell dapple across the silk sheets.

Resting against the head of the bed, and with her cuddled between his legs and snuggled against his chest, Ichigo rubbed a hand soothingly down her back. His other hand laid in her lap; his fingers deftly threaded through hers.

And he began to tell her everything.

Not just what happened with Kokabiel. But from the moment when he had stood in front of his mother’s grave all the way to witnessing the barriers between the living and the dead begin to slowly tear apart. She never stopped nor interrupted him, patiently listening to every word he said. Yasaka squeezed his hand comfortingly when he told her of his confrontation with his father and the other Shinigami in Hats-n-Clog’s shop. She had kissed him gently when he had told her about his slaughter of the self-proclaimed Fullbringers. And she had clutched at his shirt when he recounted the encounter with Susanoo and the Breathing Storm’s warnings.

But when he had gotten to the portion of his tale that included Sirzechs and Serafall’s respective sisters, it was his turn to wrap her up in a comforting hug. He hadn’t been wrong.

Yasaka’s rage had been palpable.

When the Empress of Mythic Japan learned how culpable the two young Devils had been, Kyoto and the surrounding prefectures were rocked with tremors under the weight of Yasaka’s wrath. Ichigo had quickly done his best to soothe his wife’s anger. Enough humans had died the night before, they didn’t need any more innocent casualties.

Ichigo looked down at his wife, her face near warped into a vulpine snarl as she stared off into empty space. He gently laid a hand at the crown of her head and rubbed soothingly down her back. After several moments under his ministrations, Yasaka bitterly ground out in a low voice, “How many?”

Ichigo looked down at her questioningly, yet she never lifted her anger-filled gaze, and simply amended, “How many humans died, Ichigo?”

He let out a defeated sigh, taking a moment to gently brush her knuckles with his thumb. Though he knew it would help little as he said the damning number. “Eleven-thousand four hundred and twenty-two.”

And the anger dipped as heartbreak flooded into Yasaka’s eyes. Though she was the sovereign of the supernatural facets of Japan, those humans were still her countrymen. They were fellow denizens of Amaterasu’s Heavenly Garden. Ichigo kissed her head and tucked her under his chin as she burrowed into him.

Though, moments later, Ichigo felt the anger return like a powerful tide. “I want them punished, Ichigo!”

And as she looked up at him, golden brows bent in anger, Yasaka continued, “I want those children fully punished for their sheer stupidity! We had a deal! A treaty! And your side broke it, husband!”

“I know,” he said gently before choosing his next words carefully. “I will ensure that they won’t just get a slap on the wrist.”

He raised their enjoined hands and placed a kiss on the back of Yasaka’s hand. But his wife’s anger wasn’t backing down in the least. “I want Azazel and the Grigori to answer for that miserable wretch and what he’s done to my county! I want Michael and his ilk to answer for how they allowed their weapons to cause such catastrophic damage! I want the Three Great Powers out of my yard!”

Ichigo nodded, and, taking a risk, gave his wife a roguish smile. “Three Great Powers, including me? Your favorite Demon?”

Yasaka sent him a nasty look, but after a moment, she sniffed imperiously and raised both her feet. “I suppose I can consider allowing you to stay if you rub my feet.”

Mouth twisting in mirth, Ichigo reached out and took both her snow-white feet in his hands and began a slow rub of her soles with his thumbs. Yasaka stretched out on the bed, untying her hair from the regal knots and allowed her long and heavy golden hair to fall carelessly across the silken sheets.

Ichigo glanced out the window, noting as the sun continued to climb high in the sky, reaching its zenith. His thoughts briefly lingering on Amaterasu and what moves she would be forced to make.

His eyes fell back on to Yasaka, and her scrunched brows as she kept her eyes shut tight. He could sense her worry coursing through her. Finally, she broke the long-held silence.

“I’m scared, Ichigo.”

“Me too, princess.”

And what else could he say? Things had been pushed to the critical point. He wasn’t about to offer empty words of comfort to Yasaka. That would just be insulting her intelligence and demeaning her justified fears. The only thing he could do was continue to offer his presence.

As her eyes opened and their gaze met, she shook her head and said, “The assassination attempt on my life, the attack on Kyoto, and now the undoing of the barriers around Nihon and the tearing of Veil. It’s connected. All of it. But to what end, I cannot see.”

Ichigo grimaced. Yasaka wasn’t wrong. There was a plot, years in the making at this point. It reached all the way back to the first time he had met Yasaka. Perhaps years farther. Though a part of him, the one that was more in touch with the supernatural and could begin to feel the ebb and weave of Fate, began to think that he was somehow intricately linked to all this. And not just as Yasaka’s husband.

The falling of Japan’s barriers that allowed Kokabiel and his armies to march in unimpeded could have only been accomplished from the High Plane of Heaven, from Takamagahara. Which meant this treachery reached into the ranks of the Undying.

Ichigo carefully stretched out and brushed away strands of hair from Yasaka’s brow with the tips of fingers. “Any word on what Amaterasu wants done about the tear in the Veil?”

Yasaka’s red lips turned down in a frown. “Amaterasu-sama has ordered us to stay to not get involved in the matter any further.”

He brushed his thumb over those red lips. “She must have ideas of her own, then.”

As Yasaka nodded, Ichigo bent down and kissed her gingerly.

Fair enough, it’s her house, she probably has contingency plans in place, Ichigo thought to himself.

“I have to return to the Underworld,” he whispered against her lips.

Golden eyes blinked up at him, red lips pouted. “Stay with me…just for tonight?”

And as Yasaka’s hands went up and into his shirt, that Devilish hunger came back strong.

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Far below into the infnitely winding depths of the Underworld. Miles and miles beneath the Gremory estate, Sirzechs walked along a narrow bridge of lusterless stone that hung over a black chasm with no end in sight. To the far end of where he was heading, he took upon the sight of a colossal pair of rusted, red metal doors that rose far up into the abyssal chasm. In a brief moment of amusement, he thought the whole thing far too grandiose and a tad bit pretentious. Then again, what were the ancients without their flair for the dramatic?

As he neared the towering doors, the ambient vile energy underground became hotter and denser. The corrosive miasma of demonic power kept ramping up to the point where no Devil under Ultimate-class would have been able to survive. Naturally, for him, it was nary a tickle on the back of his neck.

Sirzechs reached out and touched the giant gate, and the metal burned hot under his touch. Tendrils of smoke became thick clouds of darkness, and he quickly found himself being pulled into the billowing dark. As all light left his sight and he found himself in a void of pure blackness, the sound of a lone drop of water hit his ears. And then again. Slowly he looked down, and where once there was solid and grey stone, there was now a red floor that rippled in shallow waves of blood. As he raised his eyes, Sirzechs gazed upon a mountain of blackened corpses piled high. Narrow rivulets of blood slowly dripped through the corpses and onto the floor below.

He went forward, each footstep an echoing plop in the blood beneath. He set his eyes to the summit of the broken flesh, and there sat a pale thing woven in twisting and coiling shadows. A mane of hair as red as the blood around him eerily gilded in the air behind the dark shape.

"Your inner sanctum could use a mop," he said with a touch of humor.

Glowing green eyes fell on him, quickly followed by a twisted imitation of a smile.

"Sirzechs," Gremory purred, the sound causing reality itself to shudder. "What brings you to me, my darling flesh?"

"I was hoping you'd indulge me with some conversation," he said with a polite smile as he crossed his arms behind his back.

"Really?" And Sirzechs turned his head to his left, where the ancient demon now stood tall next to him. A single pale finger raised as she traced the curve of his jaw with a nail. "How novel. Zeoticus so rarely wishes to spend time with his mother. It is a welcome change for one of my progeny to seek me out."

Sirzechs kept the smile on his lips, yet internally empathized with his father for having to call this horrific thing his mother. He did not wish to imagine what pale imitation of a childhood his father grew up in.

Gremory turned away from him, her nail scratching his chin as she imperiously walked away and waved her hand. A lone corpse moved from the mound and began to crawl miserably through the blood. ‘Til finally the wretched thing stopped right before the Demon Lord. Gremory deftly sat down on the dead thing's back and placed her chin onto one hand as she leaned on her knees, her mien one of practiced sorrow.

"Piteous mother that I am,” her voice thick, almost patronizing, “you know not the sorrow of painstakingly tending to a blooming flower, only to watch another pluck the fruit of your love."

Sirzechs chuckled low. "You are not capable of love, grandmother."

Pale lips curved. "What is love then, my darling and treacherous grandson? Didst I not cleave your father from mine own flesh? Were not the millennia I guarded him from our enemies long and brutal? What arcane secret of mine didst I not pass onto him? Alas, mothers are to be pitied. To shape our sons into our ideal men, only for another to harvest our efforts."

"I would argue love is a commitment. One born of a true desire to build a future together, where all involved may know true joy shared. It is not enough to endure and survive, grandmother. One must strive for something greater."

The demon's head tilted, regarding him with something between mockery and amusement. "I offered him such, once."

Both of Sirzechs' brows raised in doubt. "Truly?"

"Alas, he chose to enjoin with the bloodline of another."

"Of which I am eternally grateful for," said Sirzechs quickly, wanting desperately to change the subject. "Speaking of said bloodline-"

Gremory let out a low laugh, the sound echoing eerily through the void around them. "Ba'al."

“Quite,” he said matter-of-factly. “And, while nothing would bring me greater joy to see my two most esteemed ancestors tear each other to oblivion, I would like to request you both cease your little background scuffles. For the time being.”

And for one brief second, for one barely noticeable instant, the polite smile and friendly demeanor fell. And all the realms took notice, and every slumbering myth cracked open a wary eye, for the Crimson Lucifer made himself known.

Gremory stilled, like stagnant and dead water. With a frozen breath, the dreaded demon rose from her corpse throne and curtsied low. “As my Lord Lucifer commands.”

And Sirzechs smiled once more.

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Far above and beyond, in an Adjacent Place to the reality of the Earth, Amaterasu perceived the Devil in all his terrible glory before he hid himself away. She soon turned her gaze away, back through her golden skies hued with immortal lights.

Back to the lone, invited guest in her garden.

Back to the Shade.