Title: New Divide
Category: Bleach and D. Gray-man
Rating: T
Pairing: N/A
Summary: With time, things change. People change. In the past, Allen Walker fell with the Millennium Earl. In the present, trials begin for those living. In the future, Soul Society faces the greatest threat to them ever yet. —"My name is Sosuke Aizen."—

A/N: I've gone and done some sketches for this to get myself back into it, so you can find what Allen and Kanda sorta look like at this point at http :/ /fav. me/d3g0j2h (remove the spaces)

Also, I haven't read any DGM post-186. So there will be things incorrect from canon. Probably. Understand it's all my personal theorymaking from two years ago, when this story was plotted. (That's why I haven't been reading, because it'll probably step on and squish everything I've been working on.)

—

New Divide

- Chapter Three -

A Jail Called Remorse

—

Upon the Earl's fall, it were as if a switch had been flicked. When he was alive, it had been his influence that prevented Dark Matter from undergoing decay.

Now it turned unstable.

Once it began to destroy itself, anyone possessing it went insane. They were turned into savage beasts without any thought; they just wanted the pain to stop.

Dark Matter was bound to a person's soul. And when there was none left, it devoured the body and then the mind. It was not like a Hollow, in which they only had no soul.

They would be eaten from the inside out.

The location they had flash stepped to was a simple plain; a rarity, when it came to the Seireitei. The plain had evidently been used plenty of times in the past for battle and training purposes, with dents in the earth and fragments of black fabric from ripped shinigami uniforms scattered in the dust.

There, Kanda just watched without words as the moyashi's blade changed. Allen, likewise, didn't speak, only staring his opponent down as if he were trying to determine how much Kanda knew.

And Kanda knew; Allen had called upon his zanpakuto's shikai without speaking. That meant he would be facing against someone with enough mastery over their blade to achieve the ultimate release, bankai. That did not mean he was fazed in the slightest. He was close enough to achieving his own bankai. To face Allen, he only needed to adjust his fighting strategy.

Kanda took advantage of the pause in battle to swing Mugen around. It was most certainly not his Innocence, only a cheap imitation, but it felt comfortable enough in his hands; almost as if it were an echo of his former blade, created for him in the afterlife.

"Unsheathe, Mugen!" he called. Almost bankai still meant unachievance, and a need to call his zanpakuto's name to bring it to its first release.

Visibly, Mugen showed no change. Most would have presumed his shikai to be a bluff, but Kanda knew that Mugen was a spirit who believed in efficiency as opposed to show. There were some with unbelievably flashy first releases, but Mugen knew the current form would be the best for his master. Kanda's experience during his life attested to it.

He saw Allen's eyes shift, probably knowing that just because he could not see any visible change didn't mean change was not present. Kanda felt his power increase upon releasing his shikai, his spiritual energy far outdwarfing that of his opponent.

But yet, the moyashi didn't relinquish his tight hold on his own. Allen still kept his reiatsu suppressed, though something should have been there.

Kanda ignored it, and dove first.

The downward slash was easy for Allen to block. Kanda knew that. He continued his onslaught, changing the direction of his blade. He was not fighting for the other's blood, not yet, merely gauging his opponent's skills. Allen retaliated, rising to the challenge. For several moments they exchanged blows, flash stepping higher and higher.

Allen's spiritual pressure remained unchanged. In contrast, Kanda only became more and more irritated after every blow. It did not show on his face or in his form, though his muscles were slightly tenser and his reiatsu began to waver. Allen wasn't taking him seriously; just because he could bankai didn't mean he was a step above the rest.

Patience, Mugen told him, though he heard the growl in the spirit's words. He is trying to rile you. Do not fall.

When Allen's blade then flew toward his chest, Kanda didn't have time to answer. He parried it aside and attacked before his opponent could take advantage of his opening. Allen blocked, too slow. Kanda took that instant to flash step behind and change his sword form.

Amidst the clashing blades, Kanda made his assessment. Allen played defensively. He chose to block most of the time, and barely made any attacks. It was not the technique of someone who mastered their sword enough to achieve bankai. In Allen's hands, the weapon hindered him; held him back. The two prongs rendered his blade weaker and more fragile. He was too accustomed to fighting with a claw or an oversized sword — the form his zanpakuto took made no sense.

But Kanda found the reason for the prongs soon enough. Without warning, the moyashi had somehow hooked Mugen between them, and Kanda didn't need all his experience to know that it would be dangerous to extract. The angle was just too far.

Suspended fifteen feet in the air, the two entered a sort of stalemate.

"I don't want to fight you, Kanda," Allen said. His left sleeve fluttered, torn during some point in the battle.

Kanda didn't answer. He was busy running through a list of the magic-based kidou in his mind. Though he wasn't proficient, there should have been something to get him out of the predicament. Mugen's abilities would not work here.

Allen continued. "We were allies—"

"Were."

"Yes, but—"

"We no longer work for the Organization. It has been erased from history. We have been erased."

"...I thought so."

"You are with the intruders. We," Kanda said, "are enemies. I intend not to lose. Way of Binding #4: Crawling Rope!"

Upon casting the spell, bright yellow electricity flew from his fingertips. It arced through the air in Allen's direction, binding his arms to the side of his body before he had time to react. A second was all it took for him to throw it off, testimony to his sheer, cloaked spiritual energy, but a second could be too long.

Kanda slid back a few steps. He knew would need to create an opening if he wanted to finish this quickly. Fingers placed firmly against the blade, he slid them down and felt Mugen's energy surge through his bones.

"Hell's Insects!"

Where there were once six or seven of the creatures when he had been alive, this new Mugen released somewhere near fifteen. They were also far more durable, and after all his training, fast enough to catch eighty-five percent of flash stepping shinigami.

Allen dodged slower than Kanda had anticipated; his speed in the top thirteen or fourteen percent. But the dodge was exactly as planned. Hell's Insects could change direction, and now they were spread far enough to come in at all sides. It was not a perfect attack, but would create the opening that was needed.

But there was something wrong. Kanda only had to approach to know.

Allen's sleeve was uncut.

He got his answer when the Hell's Insects attacked and Allen — or the image of Allen — deflated before floating to the ground.

"I see," Allen's voice said. "Urahara should make more of these inflatable gigai."

Kanda spun around to find his opponent looking curiously at the Hell's Insects dissolve. They could never maintain fast speeds and keep substance for long. The slow speed of his opponent was also explained far too clearly; Allen must have switched the dummy before flash stepping away.

"Time to finish this." Allen said, smiling sadly. He tilted his blade to reflect the sunlight. "Bankai."

Before Kanda knew it, the light within Allen's zanpakuto grew. A huge, blinding glare assaulted his vision, preventing him from seeing anything at all. Reflexively, Kanda felt his senses heighten as he adopted a defensive stance.

Fighting blind was not uncommon when facing against akuma, whenever smoke and rain decided to intervene.

But unlike fighting akuma, Kanda had no idea whether Allen had the ability to see in the light. No good fighter ever willingly created a situation where they lose the advantage, so he had to act upon the assumption that he could. Kanda set about making a plan to countermand that, but first he needed to know where the moyashi was.

He stayed still. There was no use trying to track the other's reiatsu; he needed to rely on all his other senses to build an image for him.

...

To the front—no, right. Seven...Eight feet?

Now!

Just because Kanda couldn't sense Allen's reiatsu didn't mean he couldn't try feeling the reiyoku in the air. As they were fighting in the air, those spirit particles would convene whenever either of them moved. Barely imperceptible, Kanda took advantage now that he knew Allen's rough location and began his own string of attacks.

The speed in which he used Mugen was not his fastest; blind, he could easily be thrown off balance and taken by surprise. Even attacking would have been an impatient mistake, but each twist had been carefully calculated to leave the tiniest opening to one side.

When the moyashi took advantage of it he would be prepared, no matter the direction.

Sure enough, he felt something graze his upper sleeve. Now he knew the location of his enemy, Kanda instantly brought Mugen around to meet him. The moment his arm was cut, he adjusted his swing according to the angle of Allen's zanpakuto.

Mugen made contact with thin air, and Kanda's eyes widened when a blade rested upon his neck.

"You fight well," Allen's voice said in his ear. Kanda didn't reply, but his throat tightened on both reflex and annoyance. "But you wouldn't have won."

He knew his move had been stupid, impulsive, but to have it rubbed in his face became the last straw. "Moyashi—"

Kanda never finished, because at that moment he'd been struck in the head and knocked out cold. Allen disengaged the shikai and sheathed his sword. He picked Kanda up, descending back to the ground and then half-hid the body behind a rock outcropping. It wouldn't be perfect, but would delay discovery for at least a few hours.

But after he'd jumped up and prepared to flash step away, he hesitated.

"It's different from before. You were the best," he murmured. "If we meet again, I hope it's on better terms." Pause. "Not when I have an unfair advantage."

He disappeared, following the spirit signature he knew too well.

Allen Walker did not know, but he had it lucky. When his Noah had gone insane, his soul only survived because he'd been one of the first to die.

The rest of the Noah, the akuma and CROW had no chance. They tore each other apart. All those who could, retreated.

Some of the remaining Finders and Exorcists were killed in the crossfire.

Damage Control became harsh. Such a public incident made it harder to keep the existence of akuma secret. But with no Earl to control the Dark Matter, and thus no akuma or Noah to survive, there was no longer any threat.

The Vatican ordered Central to disband the Dark Religious Organization, and the Exorcists were no more.

It was more than fact.

They were lost.

Orihime bit her lip to suppress the words that wanted to come out of her mouth. Most of them consisted of countless apologies, and those that weren't were offers of help and aid. But she held them back, knowing that Ishida wouldn't want anything.

Not from her.

Truthfully, the fact they were lost didn't bother her. She just kept following Ishida as they wandered through the streets of Soul Society. With any luck they wouldn't be selected as a target, especially with the uniforms she'd found for the two of them, but they didn't hide her companion's faint limping.

She knew Ishida had lost all his powers after their encounter with that crazy Kurotsuchi, and would have offered to heal him. But her powers were still drained from the Quincy absorption technique, and she still felt exhausted from the effects of Ashisogi Jizou's poison.

A small part of her wondered whether she could restore Ishida's powers, since her Souten Kisshun reverted time back to before any wounds were inflicted. No, probably not. The after effect of his ability made him build a resistance to those powers. He would never become a Quincy ever again.

They passed a few more streets, and it soon became a question of which one happened to be following the other. She was following him since he was in front, but he kept pausing for her to catch up.

Lost, powerless and confused, Orihime felt so useless.

Without warning, Ishida clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her into the crack between two buildings.

"Shh," he whispered.

Orihime freed herself from his grip and manoeuvred around to try and see what was happening. It turned out she didn't need to, since two shadows fell past them.

"Should you really be here?" One of the shinigami asked. His voice felt familiar.

There was almost a low chuckle in reply. "You know as well as I do that they won't see me, Gin."

Ichimaru Gin had been the Captain at the gate, Orihime recalled. Silver hair, expression like a fox...

"Right," Ichimaru said. "Nice show ya' put on earlier today. When this plan is over Hinamori won't know what hit her."

"I never assumed she would attack you, but your handling of the situation surpassed my predictions. As did Izuru Kira."

"But not your expectations. Right, Captain?"

The unknown 'Captain' gave one of those strange chuckling half-laughs again, and Orihime couldn't help shrinking at the sound. "Indeed."

"You know, I met him with his intruder friends. That Kurosaki Ichigo. Does he know?"

"Not at the moment."

"Gotcha. I'll take that as confirmation we're moving to the next stage."

"Of course," the second person replied. "However, there are further modifications to the plan..."

Orihime frowned when the shadows moved away, the voices fading with them. She inched forward, making sure to stay hidden against the wall, but froze when her foot slid across a loud bit of gravel.

The shadows stopped.

Her heart hitched, and started beating far too loudly. Ishida wouldn't have been able to help her because they'd trapped themselves in a dead-end without meaning to, and the two of them were drained. Please don't hear me, she prayed, please don't...

She forgot to breathe when a blade flew shot by her ear and lodged behind her. Upon closer inspection, it had come through the wall. The best way to describe it would be by saying that somehow it extended from where the shadows stood to where they were.

Then the truth hit her — that had been the ability of Ichimaru's zanpakuto.

But they'd run out of time, since a person had appeared at the entrance. Garbed with a white coat over his uniform, the dark hair and glasses informed her it was most definitely not Ichimaru Gin; the second person from the conversation.

"You have rats," the man stated just when the sword retracted again. Ichimaru appeared beside the 'Captain' moments after.

"They weren't here before," he replied. "Do ya' want me to handle them?"

"No, I should this time."

Behind her, Orihime felt Ishida stumble as he approached them at those words. "What do you want?"

The man just smiled. "You should stay away from what does not concern you."

Somehow, those sincere brown eyes turned sinister as he unsheathed the zanpakuto at his side before dropping it to the ground.

"Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu."

Those who once worked in the Organization found themselves jobless. Few held proper credentials and an ability to interact with the outside world, as most of the current generation were born into the closed group.

Any experience they possessed could not help them either; the Dark Religious Organization had been wiped from the record books — how could one explain a non-existent past in tracking down demons that did not exist?

Kanda Yu had no proper history. He was a Second Exorcist, a creation from those with near-enough Compatibility. He never existed as a person. Returning to Japan, he tried to join the military and put his skills to good use, but they had long modernized into western weaponry.

For two years, he floated around with no apparent goal in mind. Eventually, he killed himself on the sixth of June, on his twenty-first birthday.

But his scar remained after death, marking the Innocence's forced binding to his soul.