week #78: endline challenge
Title: The Crumbling Orb
By: the_glow_worm
Characters: Urahara
Rating: PG
Warnings: Wild guessing at canon
Word Count: 300
Summary: Urahara ponders the hogyoku, and its plans for one person in particular
The hogyoku shivered with anticipation, and Urahara rolled it between his fingers meditatively. Aizen had changed it, not for the better. Looking at it now was like looking into the mad eye of God. Urahara could feel its consciousness push at his mind, insistent, hungry. But Urahara had a will of his own.
“I’m not as delusional as Aizen,” he said smilingly. “Not yet. You'll not sway me to your will.” Like a wolf at the hunt, like a Hollow satisfying its hunger, the hogyoku was single-minded. It wanted to return to its true master, for whom it had betrayed Aizen: it wanted Ichigo Kurosaki.
It might not be so bad, mused Urahara. Kurosaki would regain his powers, anoint himself protector of this world, and never lose a battle. He would demolish every threat. There might never be war again.
But if Kurosaki decided that Soul Society was a threat? If he defended his Hollow friends from the shinigami, just as he defended humanity from the Hollows? Or even championed a new race of Quincy?
“Too bad,” he murmured to his creation, which flickered madly. “But it’s not yet time for the world to crumble away. Obey me and deactivate.”
The hogyoku dimmed. Satisfied, Urahara pocketed the quiescent sphere and made the long journey back to Karakura Town. He would keep it there until he found a way to destroy it, or a suitably remote corner of existence to bury it.
But when he looked at it again, on the doorstep of his shop, it was again flickering blue with life and will.
“No-” he shouted, but it disappeared from between his grasping fingers. And somewhere across town, Ichigo Kurosaki was striking a deal to regain his powers. Urahara finally understood.
The end of the world had already begun.
By: the_glow_worm
Characters: Urahara
Rating: PG
Warnings: Wild guessing at canon
Word Count: 300
Summary: Urahara ponders the hogyoku, and its plans for one person in particular
The hogyoku shivered with anticipation, and Urahara rolled it between his fingers meditatively. Aizen had changed it, not for the better. Looking at it now was like looking into the mad eye of God. Urahara could feel its consciousness push at his mind, insistent, hungry. But Urahara had a will of his own.
“I’m not as delusional as Aizen,” he said smilingly. “Not yet. You'll not sway me to your will.” Like a wolf at the hunt, like a Hollow satisfying its hunger, the hogyoku was single-minded. It wanted to return to its true master, for whom it had betrayed Aizen: it wanted Ichigo Kurosaki.
It might not be so bad, mused Urahara. Kurosaki would regain his powers, anoint himself protector of this world, and never lose a battle. He would demolish every threat. There might never be war again.
But if Kurosaki decided that Soul Society was a threat? If he defended his Hollow friends from the shinigami, just as he defended humanity from the Hollows? Or even championed a new race of Quincy?
“Too bad,” he murmured to his creation, which flickered madly. “But it’s not yet time for the world to crumble away. Obey me and deactivate.”
The hogyoku dimmed. Satisfied, Urahara pocketed the quiescent sphere and made the long journey back to Karakura Town. He would keep it there until he found a way to destroy it, or a suitably remote corner of existence to bury it.
But when he looked at it again, on the doorstep of his shop, it was again flickering blue with life and will.
“No-” he shouted, but it disappeared from between his grasping fingers. And somewhere across town, Ichigo Kurosaki was striking a deal to regain his powers. Urahara finally understood.
The end of the world had already begun.