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Tokyo, despite the vast, well-lit skyline and population density that strike many visitors with the impression of pure, unencumbered modernity, is in fact a fairly ancient city. It had been founded as a small town long ago, in the seventh century, but ignored by the outer world for most of its life, until the construction of Edo castle in 1457. But after that date, either as a warlord's base, effective capital, or aactual capital, it has bore witness to centuries of Japanese politics, and consequently acquired a rich and long-running history. Furthermore, given both its age and size, it has of course seen countless born within its grounds, many travellers passing through the way, an enormity of lives being simply lived. But with this population size, given the failure of humans to achieve immortality in any real numbers and relative lack of youkai within the twenty-two wards, must also come a great amount of death.
It is this last fact which accounts for the many spirits which haunt its buildings and skies, along with those who protectively watch over Tokyo to this very day. The metropolis therefore possesses a rich afterlife for those who have chosen to spend their post-mortal existence floating in the Tokyo skies, one where a ghost can always find a place to go in order to avoid the monotony of the afterlife, a city where Kenshin Himura's ghost debates philosophy and the necessity of war with that of Sango, while Kuwabara pitifully begs him to pass on the secrets of Hiten Mitsurugi.
Given its immense population and frequent monster attacks, moreover, it is a city where the ranks of the spirit world grow by leaps and bounds. Because of this immense workload, Tokyo is in the unique position of being served by multiple shinigami.
Botan had got along fairly well with her previous partner-in-reaping; while she couldn't help but feel Rukia was a bit violent when it came to handling the spirit world, her co-worker was still a girl of about her age and position... and one she had spent long hours with, either swapping stories of how they trained certain mortals to use their spirit energy, or just arguing over whether Kuwabara or Ichigo was better with their sword. (And blushing heavily while looking away whenever one of them brought up the double meaning of 'sword', for that matter.) Better yet, Rukia had an excellent work ethic, recently even beginning to drag Ichigo into her efforts, so Botan's job had mostly been relegated to the fairly easy task of just ferrying around lost souls.
This is why she was immensely annoyed when Rukia Kuchiki was arrested on the charge of losing her Shinigami spirit and transferring her powers to a human. Of course, this was hardly new to Tokyo spirits (She herself had fraternized plenty with Yusuke-tachi) and this particular arrest did indeed stink of corruption... but regardless of reasons, it still meant that her longtime comrade would need to be replaced.
Unfortunately, Rukia was replaced by a scary-looking, black-winged, near-sociopathic demon that not only fit all the annoying stereotypes which were so ubiquitous that many spirits, upon their lives ending, disbelieved Botan's own shinigami status. To make matters worse, in sharp contrast to his predecessor's enthusiasm, Ryuk was only slightly less lazy than the typical Snorlax. And it certainly didn't help her job's reputation that he was the very Shinigami involved in the Kira incident, which had been absolutely awful for the public image of Death Gods.
And this decline of shinigami image was something which she herself had been made to endure on numerous occasions -- souls awaiting the afterlife frequently brought it up, and it certainly didn't make her job any easier. She'd really be saved a lot of time if the departed would simply follow her across the Sanzu without making any cracks about how a blue-haired teenage girl in a pink kimonos couldn't possibly be a shinigami or trying to “avenge” lost loved ones by killing her.
The deceptively cute shinigami floated swiftly on her oar towards her house in the soul society(Or “spirit world” depending on one's preferred nomenclature) a place which was not quite actually in Tokyo, but she could get there easily enough through the portal in her home. Sending her platform back to hammerspace, she agilely floated down to the front steps, giving her voicemail a check before she went back to work.
There wasn't much: there seldom was. The only message was from Koenma, stating that Rukia had received her ninth stay of execution, along with another request for help regaining the throne of the afterlife from the Seireitei aristocracy and their puppet king. Botan sympathized with him and would certainly have preferred him in power, but she couldn't even get Yusuke or Kurama to fight for his sake, so it couldn't be helped.
And thus, leaving Koenma without so much as a response, Botan casually walked through the portal, re-summoned her oar, and in one of those inexplicably common coincidences of useful timing, caught sight of Ryuk floating lazily above a kaiju-ruined district of Tokyo.
The female shinigami casually pulled an apple from hammerspace with one hand, her other hand's finger pointing with annoyance to her comrade. “People are dying, and their souls need passage! Just what are you waiting for?”
“There's no point. We brought all those souls to the afterlife during the Buu incident, and all that happened was that they got wished back – and it seems lke everyone who dies gets reincarnated these days anyway. Until the day comes that people die when they are killed and stay dead, it's just not worth the effort.”
“Listen, Ryuk. Regardless of what you told Kir-- hey, wait, why did you lie to Kira about the afterlife?” Botan asked, her face contorted into a look of quizzical confusion.
“I wasn't lying. There's no heaven or hell.” Light's former partner answered, his voice nonchalant and emotionless – not distant, just not having any particular quality to it, not even his typical creepy, high-pitched town.
“Yeah, but its clear what you were trying to impart to him.” Botan shot back. “And you did omit the spirit world, which mislead the heck out of him.”
The demon shrugged. “It's clear by now that he would've killed regardless, but I thought it would be more interesting if he thought that death meant oblivion of the soul. If there's an afterlife, its not half as fun to lose the death note.”
“I know you prefer the killing side of our job, but there's enough death in Tokyo already. Here.” Botan said, sighing and tossing him an apple as she surpressed the powerful urge to whack him repeatedly over the head with her paddle. “There's more if you help me.”
“You drive a cruel bargain.” Ryuk grumbled, stretching his wings and flying with his sempai towards the battlefield, prepared to guide the newly-disembodied souls to eternity
“Hiten Misturugi Style – Ryu Kan Sen Tsumuji!”
As the blow connected with the Cubone's neck and the giant plunged to the ground, Ilpalazzo let out a powerful, roaring scream of “You!” the sort that only happened at plot-defining moments; a scream which pierced through the chaotic air. As he screamed, the revolutionary recoiled in slight horror -- slight, because the full force of this realization would send him plunging to his certain death.
“But... it's impossible. How, after all this time, can Kenshin Himura still be alive?!”
“To think that even after this one's spent sixty years dead, you still go around trying to seize power with all that talk of revolution... I must admit I had my suspicions, but it really struck me as too odd to be anything but a coincidence, that it did.”
“Hold it.” The silver-haired revolutionary said, sending a small, snake-shaped burst of magical energy towards the swordsman's mask from his skyscraper location, while the Cubone's unconscious body fell across the road, tying up traffic and destroying a few more buildings in its wake. The man gracefully floated down from the skyscraper on his cape, if only because his foe was simply too low to the ground to hit, and spoke. “Cryptic allusions are nice and all, but we have a lot to go over here... so don't you think you owe the bystanders a flashback?”
“Not every past has cherry blossoms, and the only Sakura you ever knew was seven years dead at the time. Be serious here, Kenshin – the people laying dead on this battlefield deserve it.”
“Oro? Y-you were the one who killed them!” The man answered, then suddenly narrowed his eyes, turning far more serious. “Besides, I believe you have a good deal that you should be explaining to the people of this city and nation, Kagato. Though I must admit I'm quite impressed by this transformation of yours, that I am... even managing to get the Crown Prince of Jurai to fight for you.”
“You know the rules. Hero gets the flashback first, villain only as they die.” 'Ilpalazzo' responded, his hair's prettiness undiminished by the usage of his real name.
“So you admit you're the villain?” Kenshin answered, his presence in his current body still unexplained as he lunged for his foe, only to find his sakabatou quickly parried by a green laser sword which beared a suspicious resemblance to a lightsaber. (Of course, if it was a lightsaber, it would've meant quite clearly that he was actually on the side of good, raising the need for a flashback even more.)
“Ilpalazzo-sama, does this mean Excel will finally get to see your mysterious past?” A hyperactive, oddly-dressed blond stated, rushing through her words, apparently recovering from the blast quickly because of her immense energy.
“It's fairly hard to get a revolution going as the standard-bearer for evil. I admit nothing!” 'Ilpalazzo' answered, wondering whether to shoot Excel for her annoying hyperactivity or kiss her for her loyalty – minions likethis werew certainly hard to find.
“No, no. I'll still let Kenshin go first... suffice it to say that the 'martian princess' thing was a cover for Hyatt's role with the Galaxy Police and leave my life story at that.”
Himura Kenshin, in a yet-unexplained body and wearing the robes of a certain order of shinigami, nodded, then sat cross-legged on the pavement of the road so recently wounded by the weight of a giant pokemon, closed his eyes, and opened his sheath just enough that Kagato could see the steel glisten as the old rurouni began to recount the relevant portions of his backstory.
Seizing upon a diplomatic crisis in Korea, as your history books will surely mention, Yamagata and his allies in the Diet dragged Japan into war. They will say nothing of how, in doing so, the commander of the Japanese forces broke a promise to an old friend from the revolution. They will also say nothing of how, in the fateful days leading up to the war, I reluctantly led a small, furious group. This composed primarily of pacifists and old friends from the fight against Shishio, among them a sekihoutai veteran fresh with radicalism after his travels through America, attempted a midnight coup d'etat with the backing of the emperor in the days leading up to the first Sino-Japanese War.
We only had a few fighters, but it was late, and they were most skillful, that they were. Sir Yosho, Sir Sanosuke, Sir Aoshi, and even Miss Kaoru were among us, and the espionage provided by the remnants of the Oniwaban-shu gave us exactly the information needed to know when to save control – and through Sir Tsukioka, we had both a hefty supply of bombs and a solid ally in the media.”
“So many skilled fighters, how were you beaten?” Iori asked, grateful for the strength of Ankylomon's hide – without it, the earthquake would've knocked him out like it had so many others. Hearing this comment, with a gentle nod of response, Kenshin Himura closed his eyes, and returned to his reminiscence.
“If it were only the warmongering traitors of the revolution, we would indeed have succeeded. But the British government had seen the strength of the Yamagata regime, and was courting them as an ally in east asia.”
“So the Meiji had guns?” Iori asked, slightly confused.
“Don't associate our honored emperor's name with those murderers!” Kenshin shouted, eyes narrowed and purple with anger.
“B-but, umm... everything I've learned in histo--”
“History is only what is written down!” Kagato shouted, displaying a rare, semi-uncharacteristic touch of helpfulness. “There's so much about this world's corrupt, fratricidal past that it won't mention, such as how the intervention of a group of youkai daimyo under Sesshomaru turned the Onin War from a succession struggle to the anarchy of the Sengoku Jidai! And it never explains Japan's insanity in the second world war... Let him finish, and all will become clear!”
“The imperialists didn't just have guns, Lord Iori.” Kenshin began, resuming his flashback. “If British weaponry was all that they had to their advantage, the world might even have been spared their reign of militarist violence. But for all the spying of Miss Misao, we had no idea that the imperialists had also been loaned the recently-captured secret weapon of the mysterious 'Hellsing' organization.
“Secret weapon?” The holder of curiosity and sincerity asked, listening intently.
“Now, none of us really knew a thing about England, back then. The Oniwabanshu had been sent to America as spies for a time, and as they found nothing but humans and animals, we had therefore assumed that youkai and other such creatures only existed in Japan: not a single person among us had ever so much as heard the word 'vampire.” Kenshin Himura paused, waiting for the impact of the word to sink in, as the various bystanders still standing, the Vamdemon attack only five years past, tried in vain to wrap their heads around a time when the very idea of a time when vampires were completely unheard of in Tokyo.
“Guns were one thing – I had the speed to fight them, so long as we were in close quarters, and Sir Yosho's blade could deflect bullets. It would be ugly, brutal, and I'd lose a lot of friends, but if that was what it took to stop yet another war, I was prepared to make that sacrifice.” Hiding the tear that ran down his scarred cheek has he reminisced, the warrior sighed. “But Alucard... In this new era of guns, I suppose Alucard would be the person truly worthy of the title of strongest. Admittedly, his gun fired far more quickly than all but one that I had seen before in my life, and that one was mounted and possessed by an owner without the slightest concept of aim – which merely makes it even more impressive that for all the shots he fired, not a single one missed.
Sano was the first to fall, ten bullets penetrating those ribs already wounded by years of combat, and then, as his bones were pulverized, a single fatal strike to the head. The rest of us fought on, trying to ignore the loss of a fighter who was to so many of us a dear friend, killing in the hopes of saving so many more lives, and swallowing our revulsion, consciences, and revolutionary memories, we even managed to slay all of the guards save for Alucard.
And even with him, I did get an attack in, that I did. My eyes yellow with the Battousai's hatred, I turned around my sakabatou and pierced his neck with a stab that should indeed have been fatal. However, as I was not to learn for many more years, a thousand more stabs to the neck would still not have been enough to slay him – but blinded by renewed bloodlust, I could not even comprehend his immortality. With these thoughts strong in my mind, I leaped into the air, bringing his sword down for a Ryutsuisen, but the blow did nothing. All I could do was to watch as my comrades fell around me. And then, this one heard another gunshot, and fell from battle as the blood covered my eyes.”
When I next woke, it was in a prison, that it was. I later learned that, owing to his respect for my services during the revolution, Yamagata had personally intervened to spare my life, although for trying to overthrow the government, I understandably recieved a term of life imprisonment.”
“Truly, this is a fairly interesting past, but I'm really not seeing where Lord Ilpalazzo fits into this flashback.” Excel stated, somewhat annoyed, but with a strange mixture of awe, respect, and fear of her master preventing her from using a comedically oversized weapon to whack Kenshin for his foolishness. Unheeding her question, the swordsman continued.
“For the rest of my life, I would only spend two more years outside of a jail cell – those years were both during the occupation, that they were. As a prisoner, perhaps owing to my heroic past, my treatment was humane, and I received ample news of the outside world... but just the same, I was a prisoner, and the news was seldom good.”
On the side of peace, there were only two survivors, that there were. Yosho had made it out alive, and was apparently living under an assumed name in the countryside – Sir Katushito Masaki, I believe. But the rest of my comrades had fallen. The Meiji emperor was placed under house arrest for the remainder of his life, and although some of the purer voices within the imperialist government moved the country towards democracy, the pacifist voices in the Diet were not enough to stop the cycle of wars, and even the elected government was soon subsumed by the military's murderous quest for power in the name of the Japanese nation.
Unable to do a thing to stop this horror, I sat powerless to stop the as the restoration government dragged the nation into war after war, while proving worse than the shogunate at home. In a bitter, ironic move that I must assume was a nod to my services, in time this government passed the 'peace preservation' law, which only ensured to continue the stability of a warmongering government that would make Shishio proud.
Still, there were politicians who came to speak to me. Their arguments were moderate, they went along with the wartime directives, that they did – but through great effort, I did manage to convince some of them of what should have been obvious, that the righteousness even the most just war could have paled in comparision to the lack of suffering seen in peace.
In time, this government was beaten, and in the year 1945 I saw my freedom once again.The American occupation had freed all political prisoners of the prior regime, that they had, and I was truly grateful simply to view the skies after so many years, even though they were greyed with smoke and my eyes had decayed gravely over my ninety-five years of life. Ninety-five... I had aged greatly, and even the power of the Hiten Mitsurugi style could only delay the inevitable for so long.
Thankfully, the Americans had appointed as Prime Minister a former acquaintance of mine by the name of Sir Kijuurou Shidehara, a former diplomat and foreign minister who, many decades ago, I had convinced of the viciousness of war. This man had taken this reality to heart, and many years later, asked me for a solution. To this end, I wrote him up a proposal, that I did: a few sentences which, with the memories of destruction strong and the victims of our aggression in power, I felt could finally be written into the central documents of this land.
It took about another year for all the details to be ironed out, but when that day finally came... The media was awash with reports of the new constitution, and as I read through a copy in the newspaper, my eyes scanned down towards article nine, and I died with tearful hope in my eyes. But with Tokyo laying in ruins and so much of the world murdered in the years of war, it was a faint hope indeed – and too make matters worse, even until the moment of my death, I had not even realized Kagato's role.
My spirit had hoped to depart to the afterlife, but deep down, I knew my sins could not be atoned for. So fom Gojira to Vamdemon and Cubone, I watched over Tokyo, hoping uselessly, powerlessly that the city could at last see peace.”
“That still doesn't have anything to do with Lord Ilpalazzo!” Excel shouted, confused. “Sure, it was an interesting flashback, but that was completely off-topic! Excel does not approve of your distraction from the subject of our glorious leader's past!”
“But this was no distraction, Excel. It my secret surveillance technology had been placed on Yosho's body, letting us know of all this man's movements. And it was I who revived Alucard from his untimely death, bargained his spirit into servitude, and convinced the Holy Britannian King of the time to send him to Japan!” ” Kagato replied, eyes rife with megalomaniacal evil as he adjusted his glasses and held back his laugh. “Furthermore, I was the one whose militarist puppets in the Diet pushed Japan into Manchuria and the Second World War in the first place!”
“But why, Ilpalazzo? Why would you do such a horrible thing?!” The agent asked, falling tearfully to her knees.
“You see, Excel, I needed Yosho's power. I could get everything I needed from his corpse, but someone would have to kill him first. Originally, I tried to get Japan to do the firebombing itself overreacting to resistance movements, but when that failed...” He paused, not a single element of conscience or sorrow appearing on his face “I just had to make sure another country would do it for me.”
“In other words, a man so malevolent he dragged a whole nation into war in the hope that the heir to Jurai would become a civilian casualty! And it didn't even work.” Kenshin shot back, only the honor of his oath preventing him from reverting to the battousai.
“Quiet, you! Now die!” Kagato lunged at Himura with his wholly non-derivative, original laser sword which in no way came from a galaxy far, far away, only to see it quickly parried by a... zanbatou?
“The flashback has not finished yet, that it hasn't. Or do you not want anyone to know just how this one came to this body?”
“Fine, fine. Go on.”
“Wait... the rest isn't interesting, that it's not. A local shinigami by the name of Ichigo Kurosaki saw the carnage, saw his siblings near death from Cubone, and called out to the spirit world in a desperate plea for help. And then I answered, and there's nothing more to be said.”
Hearing this, Kagato paused briefly as the sun set beautifully upon the plain of Kanto, its only witness in the city limits a slight bit of red creeping through the smoke-filled Tokyo sky. An orange-haired, fairly attractive female kitsune suddenly
descended from the clouds, the two fighters glared at each other with an immense hatred too powerful to be properly described while gripping the handles of their swords with full readiness to kill, and the fox-girl spoke into her microphone. “As is traditional, this final battle will be a no-holds-barred, anarchic fight to the finish, and as such, I am only here in my capacity as announcer. Let the battle begin!”
Hearing Koto's signal, the two swordsmen lunged at one another, then rushed past with breakneck speed as the swords collided, making a bizarre sound somewheres between a clang and a buzz. Kneeling and facing the opposite way, they stood for a split-second, and then...
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No one fell to the ground, admitting defeat, nor did anyone surrender. Himura glanced at his sakabatou and Kagato at his wholly non-derivative laser sword, but neither were even close to shattering. The two stood there, remaining in the positions in which they landed, unable to shake the feeling that the outcome of their clash of swords was plain and simply wrong.
On the other side of Tokyo, sparked by deeply-held worries of love and hot, human/computer reset button action, a surprisingly powerful, semi-legendary personal computer went haywire, causing a chaos which instantly shut down the lights, water pipes, and other key infrastructure elements of the city. Iori Hida held aloft his digivice and sped off in the distance, running on a desperate search for an internet-capable computer as the water burst from the ground, determined to stop the rampaging MarineAngemon this problem would undoubtedly manifest as in the digital world. Kenshin and Kagato, assuming that this intereference was the reason their final battle had not ended with one of them falling from a delayed wound seconds after their epic clash of swords, put their hostilities aside for the moment. For now, they would find the source of this newfound chaos.
In fact, watching it was precisely what he wanted to be doing, but in the chaos of the city, even this attempt at peaceful, lonely otakudom had become impossible. And much as he wanted to remember the halycon days of schoolgirls in seifuku, after-school clubs, general fanservice, and mushrooms, he could not turn his back on the city forever.
He didn't mind Tokyo, generally speaking: It was just that a life lived in Kyoto or Sapporo wouldn't disrupt his efforts to watch anime in peace with an uninterrupted power supply. However, even considering this, the fact of Akihabara's existence alone put Tokyo above any other city in the world, as far as Madarame was concerned, and living his life in the city of Comiket(and saving on travel money to . And there was one thing that was clear: No matter how badly he wanted to live the life of a fanboy, and never fight again, it didn't matter. Not only would his power supply not be restored until the city was saved, but Tokyo was in danger -- and this was a city worth protecting.
(And if nothing else would sway him, major battles had nude transformation scenes on a fairly regular basis, and villains occasionally used swords or knives which ripped the heroine's clothes. Besides, he did still have that Gundam stuffed in his closet – and while he may have been was a bit out of practice, it wasn't like he had forgotten how to fight.)
Keeping this in mind, the longtime fanboy climbed into his mech's cockpit, trying to ignore that annoying voice in the back of his head which saw fit to remind him how Ohno and Ogiue would react to the term 'cockpit,' especially when Heero and Duo were involved, and returning at long last to the field of combat for the sake of humanity.
If only he could've done it in a Zaku.
A persocom in the shape of a teenage girl floated a few feet above the ground, held in her position by what must have been thousands of wires emanating from her ears and hooked intohundreds, if not thousands of ports -- most on in outlets a foot above the road or even beneath it, but quite a few extending to the high-rise buildings which flanked and towered above the road, and more still flying wildly, unconnected to anything. Standing on the pavement below the girl, a college-age, boy yelled words of love to the computer, tears in his eyes as he confessed.
What most puzzled Kenshin was the boy's distinct appearance of homosexuality, owing to his CLAMPish looks, combined with this confession. but then again, from what he understood of it, love seldom worked in a sensible way, and people were often not what they seem. The two conversed some more – a bit here about the “person just for me”, a bit there about the computer's capabilities for sexual intercourse, and as the wires unplugged and retracted back into the girl's ears, the swordsman concluded that this boy, while straight, still possessed... odd romantic tendencies. (Then again, looking as he did, this should not have been a suprise.)
Off in the distance, he heard a loud, clanking noise, a sound which moved closer with each 'clang' as the sillouhette of a giant robot came into view. As the Gundam arrived on the scene, the two lovers collapsed into a telepathic flashback, their love seeming at last complete.
“A Gundam, and true love... Good is triumphing, that it is.”
“You think that 'good'? Truly, even the heroes have seen their moral compasses degenerate in this immoral, corrupt society.” Kagato said, adjusting the glasses he wore so often in his 'Ilpalazzo' guise.
“I presume you will elaborate.”
“The love you speak of is nothing more than the degenerate, perverted relationship of a geek and his computer, the kind which even today is destroying the bonds of real love on which humanity was founded. And the mobile suit, well... what was the Earth Federation but an oligarchic band of imperialists willing to do anything to maintain its domination of the space colonies?”
“The Zeon were warmongers! The Zabi clan lorded over its people with an iron fist, uncaring of how many lives on both sides they destroyed for their dream of independence!”
“You really think that? Then again, I suppose a right-wing paramilitary really would have such warped ideas about what constitutes 'good' or 'evil'.”
“R-right wing paramilitary?” Kenshin asked incredulously eyes spiraling with the confusion of a dozen 'oro's.
“It's true, isn't it? Think about it – all you ever fought for in your life was the stability of the imperialist regime!” Kagato roared, equal parts accusing and maniacal “And don't give me any of that about Shishio being worse: that doesn't explain Sanosuke and Tsukioka or beating up democracy activists at the Akabeko!”
“Regardless of their political leanings, their actions were simply harassing people in the name of liberty or sparking another civil war! Do you really think that if the Sekihoutai did blow up Tokyo, Japan would have turned into a land of freedom?”
“Ah, so a paramilitary with reformist justifications.”
“I've been more than willing to attack corrupt governmental officials, that I have. But given the choice between the government and the violent chaos of another Bakumatsu, with no good end in sight...”
“You fool! Attacking corruption of a few while ignoring corruption of society... does nothing good for the world!” Kagato yelled, turning on his green laser-sword as he charged. Kenshin Himura paused, pondering his enemy's statement, wondering if he had a point. Until that fateful day in the 1890s, what had he been but just another paramilitary, slightly more high-minded and non-violent than the others? And all this was what he called “atonement” -- his spirit didn't deserve to go on, and were he in his own body, he would not even have considered dodging.
But as things were, he was borrowing Kurosaki Ichigo's, and it would be quite rude of him to return this borrowed item in less-than-livable shape. So maybe if he just left it behind, Kagato would leave his vessel be, and he would never have to kill again.
For a split-second during his extraterrestrial enemy's charge, he was seriously thinking about it. However, at the exact moment that Kagato slipped on a banana peel, (Which, incidentally, had been the very peel that had inadvertantly led to Fujioka Haruhi's first kiss, and arrived in its current location only after a curiously long journey involving kaiju-interrupted garbage disposal and getting caught in a strong gust of wind summoned up to make a Clow Card guardian by the name of Yue look even cooler) a small, blue dragon jumped up behind the swordsman, forcing a pair of goggles onto his forehead, and he overflowed with courage.
As Ilpalazzo stumbled, the old warrior pointed his sword, and with the threat to Tokyo helpless, his course of action was clear... “Hiten Mitsurugi Style – Kuzu Ryu Sen!”
A few seconds later, it was over. Kagato(or perhaps Ilpalazzo; he had possessed that identity for a good, long time – and it was at Lord Ilpalazzo he launched his final arguments) lay bleeding on the pavement, imprisonment or execution his fate. Kenshin Himura returned to the spirit world, Ichigo Kurosaki spotted his reflection in Ilpalazzo's glasses, cast aside the Goggles of Leadership, and resumed his quest to rescue Rukia. In time, the knocked-out masses rose, and while it did seem as though the city's doctors would be overburdened, at least Tokyo was safe.
For now.