Chapter 43

What was this place?

The sky was a deep orange, embers carried within an acrid and ash filled wind. Heavy smoke suffused the surroundings, a grey almost black-like fog perforating through the cracks and crevices of crumbled buildings and seeping out into the open. Tar bubbled from the heated pavement, mottled with speckled holes derived from the falling debris of towering buildings.

Steel infrastructure, marred black and melting constantly oozed with a sizzling noise and pungent odour.

It looked like hell.

There was no end in sight.

No matter where one looked, the same landscape seemed to stretch on for an eternity; the reflection of a nightmare or tragedy ingrained not within the mind, but within the soul. An origin, the beginning of it all.

The time of birth had come.

Ashes to embers. From sparks to roaring flames.

All that could be seen within this desolate landscape, was death.

No one had taken notice of it before, but it quickly became apparent. Buried within the rubble, lying dead over the streets, or simply out in the open, bodies lay everywhere. Their skin was burnt black, their bones nothing more than kindle unfit to feed a fire. The slightest touch or movement would be enough to reduce them into a chalky dust.

In the entire city covered by a blazing inferno, not a single person in sight was alive. Only the constant hum of crackling echoed endlessly amidst flickering shadows illuminated by a fierce glow.

The bodies of the deceased, the corpses of friends, loved ones, and family, all of it all looked the same under the sweltering heat. Their hands were all morbidly held towards a single direction, as if in calling for a saviour that did no more than walk past them in their moment of need.

There was no hate, nor malice, grief, or envy.

Only the destituteness of a hollow feeling.

Empty shells without desire.

At the sight of tragedy, both Shinigami and Hollow were aware that the souls of the dead would linger in hordes, bound by their soul chains to wander upon the earth due to the suddenness of their deaths.

This was different.

Piteous souls with nothing left, even the soul itself.

What sort of flame was this?

The fiery radiance of the tainted fire burning throughout the world felt crippling in the despair it wrought.

To the Shinigami and Hollows present, the spiritual energy that they could sense throughout the city was appalling in its quantity and might.

If one were to take all of the world's evils, store it upon a single host, and then condemn that host to damnation, that level of hatred wasn't something that anyone could lightly handle. This was the power of a Zoroastrian God, Angra Mainyu, of another universe.

A power similar to that of the Spirit King yet infinitely darker and malefic.

Coyote only considered her surroundings for a moment, and then thought nothing else of it.

The Hollows and Shinigami though were different.

The dimension that Kisuke had created was finite. In a sense, they could 'grasp' or 'feel' the boundaries of the world around them which only encompassed the area of Karakura town. In this case, no matter how far their spiritual senses stretched, they could not feel a boundary that indicated an enclosed dimension.

In Kisuke and Aizen's terms, this was an entire world bereft of the limitations of technological reproduction.

How?

It made no sense.

There was no prior warning, nor discernible trigger. The world just suddenly came to be.

In another place, and in another time, there was a power known as True Magic: Miracles and feats beyond recreation.

'I am, and so it shall be.'

To force on to reality one's own beliefs and ideals and bend the fabric of space to accommodate. This wasn't considered a True Magic, but it was the closest as anything could have had ever been.

'I am, the world.'

A hill of swords.

A solitary existence.

Never bending, never breaking.

Because that was all that ever was and would be.

So, manifest one's inner reality and make it whole.

Fingers twitched in the distance, a figure on the verge of waking. His body was steel. His blood of fire.

Remember.

This was the end, and the beginning.

A deep thrumming resounded, twenty-seven points of energy rapidly swelling in power while gathering the spiritual energy in the air like a vacuum.

A breaking point would eventually be reached, and yet until then, the fighting continued.

Coyote had not stopped her assault on Yamamoto even once.

This was a grudge spanning over a thousand years.

She kicked forward, past the violent streams of fire spewed forth from Ryujin Jakka to butt heads directly with Yamamoto. The helmet over her forehead creaked in response, but her expression remained unchanged despite the relative dizziness.

Often, the calmer a person appeared in the face of anger, the more furious they actually were.

One could call Coyote suicidal for daring to engage Yamamoto in close quarters combat when her speciality relied on range, but she'd long since accounted for everything. Her muscles were taught, and her senses heightened in preparation.

Yamamoto was a master in combat, a monster from a generation of learned killers in the name of order. Hand-to-hand skills, kido, swordsmanship, he knew it all. Despite butting heads with Coyote, he stood his ground with a light grimace.

"Just as reckless as you were back then," Yamamoto immediately shifted his grip on his sword and burst out with a sharp spiritual energy. "That was the reason for your downfall. No, it was your remorse."

The light in Coyote's eyes burned with something fierce.

"Put aside your anger, and look at where you are," Yamamoto put strength into his arms and began pushing. "Your comrades will die if we raise our spiritual pressure any higher."

It was ironic coming from Yamamoto, but time indeed changes everyone. He was no longer as merciless as he had been in the past. The number of Shinigami which he had trained and watched grow into strong men and women did much to whittle away at his indifference towards justifying the means.

"Enough of this!" Yamamoto's aura exploded outward.

Coyote fell silent in response, but soon enough, not only did her strength not wane, it heightened.

An empty laughter devoid of amusement began to echo past Coyote's lips.

It was enough to send shivers down one's spine before it suddenly just stopped.

Coyote was glaring, the neutrality of her expression breaking as tears slowly began to well up in her eyes and trickle down her cheeks, and yet she had been laughing. It was broken, strained.

Alone.

She'd never wanted to be alone again.

That was all that she had ever asked and hoped for after meeting Shirou. She was content to just live out her life even in hiding if she had to.

So long as there was someone waiting for her. A simple 'welcome back' after a strenuous day was enough.

She'd nod, sit down by a corner, and relax under the light of the moon with her family by her side.

Gone. All of it gone.

Wind began to pick up, a gale rapidly pulsating outward with Coyote at the center. The force caused the flames burning within the new world to flicker wildly. Any and all who were touched by the flame, Shinigami or Hollow alike burnt until there was nothing left.

Her spiritual energy erupted unabated. A radiant torch.

The power that had killed lesser Hollows with presence alone.

Without Shirou's appearance.

Without Aizen's intervention.

There had only ever been one Hollow at the pinnacle of evolution.

The spiritual pressure was horrifying and it only continued to swell, aggregating into the form of a howling white wolf.

The power of the first Vasto Lorde.

Crack, shatter.

Visible fractures began to form over the hollow bone fragments still left over Coyote's form. A hand went over to press itself onto the left side of her face, her shoulders trembling.

Cry, she would not any longer.

After years of solitude within the sands of Hueco Mundo wallowing in despair and grief, she had realized the truth that was most important to her. She indeed had regrets about killing those close to her, and abandoning the hollows depending on her in the mountain pass of old.

She was remorseful, and had always kept her emotions bottled up within herself because there was no use in dwelling over the past. However, it had led to her defeat when those suppressed emotions caused her a moment's indecision in battle.

The only one that she ever cared for was gone.

The regret and indecision plaguing her for her past actions was gone, suffocated under the weight of solitude.

No more.

Stop?

She stared directly at Yamamoto.

She'd long since come to terms with herself already.

So long as she had just one person that she could rely on, then that was enough.

That hell, the loneliness within the white sands of Hueco Mundo had already overwhelmed her once before. It had been unbearable, and now face to face with the cause of it all, he told her to stop?

Strength welled into the hand over her face, and in a single action, the helm-like bone fragment over her head crumbled within her her grip. The sound was distinct like shattered glass, the aura even more so.

Of the Hollows that had come to Aizen for aid, Starrk and Lilynette were already at the stage where the Hogyoku's power was useless. They had already begun the process of discarding their masks.

'My anguish, my misery, my mourning, you would never be able to understand it.'

An aspect of death.

Solitude.

A hollow's mask was more than just a mere decoration. It was directly related to their evolution. The stronger a hollow, the more humanoid that they became. As a Vasto Lorde herself, Coyote barely had any fragments left of her mask still present on her body. Now though, everything was gone.

Her energy swelled, her hair blowing back as her form swayed.

The pair of pink coloured eyes that stared at Yamamoto never wavered.

Her gun was raised, the design similar to a sleek revolver. Rings of spiritual energy pulsated towards the muzzle and formed into an iridescent sphere of blue. The sheer density of it denoted the sheer explosive capabilities it contained.

One shot.

One overwhelming attack.

It was true that it was difficult to aim a gun amidst a fight, but there came a point in terms of weaponry when accuracy no longer mattered.

The Grand King's doom blast.

Different from the ones that Harribel and the others had once fired, this Cero alone packed everything that Coyote could gather in a single round.

To call it a gun would be an understatement.

It was a goddamned Canon.

The diameter of the growing sphere only continued to expand.

Coyote had never replied to Yamamoto's words, but her actions were enough.

The ground trembled, the weaker hollows and Shinigami firmly pressed into the earth, visibly straining to breathe.

"Run! That's not Starrk or Lilynette! It's someone else!" Nel called out to all the other hollows. Harribel, Apacci, and all the other Vasto Lordes used their spiritual energy to mitigate Coyote's own so that the hollows could temporarily fall back.

The Shinigami were no different.

Isshin was forced to disengage from Aizen in worry for Karin and the rest who were struggling to remain upright. Worse, the tainted fire burning within the ruined city was dangerous if anyone came into contact with it. The inability to move caused by Coyote's spiritual pressure was proving lethal.

It wasn't the end.

Forced to face Coyote's attack, Yamamoto's spiritual energy rose in tandem.

Aizen, for once in his life, felt like he had no idea what was going on anymore. It was just one thing after another in this battle, and the root of it all came from a sole variable.

The Vasto of White.

Aizen had yet to share his observations with others yet, but he somehow knew that this otherworldly plane was related to Shirou. In which case, the power of reality which he could feel from within the tainted flames was a power that Shirou possessed as well?

Aizen and Kisuke were inadvertently beginning to stumble into the wrong assumption about just what kind of existence Shirou was. For now though, it didn't matter.

"We're retreating," Aizen gave a curt order. He, Gin, and Tousen flash stepped to a safer location.

The weaker hollows and Shinigami were quick to copy.

Shunsui and Baraggan stared at each other, before both moving back to their respective camps. Strong as Shunsui and Baraggan were, even they would not risk getting caught up in the clash of powers before them.

A battle of spiritual beings depended not only on ability, but spiritual energy.

The laws of Shunsui's games, would be fundamentally denied in the case of an overpowering might. Similarly, Baraggan could not rot the spiritual energy fast enough to avoid damage.

The confrontation between Coyote and Yamamoto continued.

Neither could even begin to evaluate just how many would die after this attack, but Coyote's expression was the only one that remained unmoving.

She was doing the right thing.

As far as she knew, the only one who could threaten her family's life again was the man before her.

Therefore, Kill.

She had to kill him.

Her resolve was set.

The finger over the trigger of her gun need only pull and her attack would launch.

It was in an that moment though that the unexpected occurred. The face that was devoid of emotion and suffused with murderous intent, suddenly faltered visibly.

No.

It can't be.

Coyote's lips quivered, her gaze shaking. The energy that she had built up to use for a single instance almost entirely vanished as if it were never there. Her complexion was pale, and her breath hitched in her throat.

She kept shaking her head from side to side in disbelief before growing still and suddenly vanishing into an entirely different direction.

Yamamoto blinked in confusion. He was in the midst of activating his Bankai to counteract Coyote's attack, but suddenly had no reason to anymore. He huffed out a weary breath and reeled in his spiritual energy to save the Shinigami too weak to withstand it.

Yamamoto could not tell what had happened. Had Coyote continued her attack, he was certain to have had been forced into a perilous situation. Moreover, she looked dead set on fighting it out with him moments earlier. What had changed?

The answer was simple.

She'd seen a figure just off the edge of her vision. It was small, barely taller than three-and-a-half feet. She would have missed it any other time, or wouldn't have had cared, but this was different.

Wind whipped across her hair and body as she dashed forward towards the figure walking in a limp through the open flames.

'It can't be.'

She landed on the balls of her feet, her steps echoing in her ears as she approached the child before her. It was a little boy. One that she wouldn't ever ignore.

"Starrk?" She looked at the child walking listlessly in front of her with worry, her voice shaky. There was no way that she could have had fired off her attack.

She could feel his presence. She was certain that it was him.

It didn't make sense. She swore that she had left him on the edge of the battlefield away from harm. He shouldn't have had been anywhere near where he was now. Moreover, why did his appearance change?

"Starrk," she called out stronger.

The boy did not respond and just continued walking. Moreover, she didn't like the way his eyes looked. There was no life there. Nothing to be found of the man who called her family.

She reached out to him, grabbing him in her grasp, but still he did not respond.

A pit formed in her gut, her mind blanking.

Just what was going on here?

The others soon took notice of her location and arrived before she could take Starrk to a safer area. She glared at everyone in distrust, but relented when her memories from her time as 'Starrk' and 'Lilynette' came tot eh for front of her mind.

She let Harribel and the others near her, but refused to allow any Shinigami to get close, and this included Aizen.

Everyone present who had fought or was acquainted with the Vasto of White could feel that the child in Coyote's arms was one and the same.

"Back off!" Coyote snarled as Yamamoto arrived at the head of the Shinigami. One hand held the child around the waist, and the other hand pressed the child's face to the crook of her shoulder.

The Vizards were too busy keeping Ichigo occupied so only they were not present in the scene.

Of everyone present, no one knew what was going on, but one thing was clear.

The 'Vasto of White' did not seem to be in any state to put up a fight.

Yamamoto felt his mouth dry, the other Shinigami behind him readying themselves.

This chance was like a god send.

All had experienced the power of the Vasto of White in person. They had both seen it and felt it.

"Sorry, but I don't think we can agree with that," Shunsui was the one who spoke. He had appeared by Yamamoto's side along with Kyouraku and Unohana.

Zaraki Kenpachi was not that far off either as well as the other Captains.

Coyote gritted her teeth, her arms shielding the boy in her grasp like a mother protecting her cub.

"I said stay away!"

She looked nothing like the woman whose power could overwhelm almost everyone present. Instead, she was just frantic, no. More than frantic, she was scared, her whole-body trembling.

She didn't want to lose her family again.

The one thing that Coyote had still not understood or comprehended, was that this wasn't the past any longer.

There were comrades that would stand by her side.

Harribel, Nel, Sung-Sun, Baraggan, the Arrancar, the Espada.

She was no longer alone.

So, stop making that face.

Coyote stiffened as a small hand touched her cheek.

The boy's expression was still blank, but perhaps somewhere deep within him, a part of Shirou had reacted.

Even if the present world were just but a memory and nothing done inside would change anything, some things were still worth protecting.

-'I am the Bone of my Sword.'

Hidden deep in the distance, monolithic gears gradually began to turn.