“It’s a shame we never found you sooner. An Echt of your strength… you’d have been a credit to the Wandenreich,” Yhwach declares as he stalks closer, gaze fixed on Erich. “I wonder what sort of Schrift you would have manifested.”

Erich grits his teeth and ignores Yhwach’s words, straining against the foreign presence threaded through his body. His fingers curl as he struggles to keep his limbs under control and his mind clear, struggles to keep Yhwach from taking him over once again.

(He won’t give in.)

(He won’t!)

(He will not be turned against Uryuu or Kurosaki!)

He can see Uryuu beyond Yhwach, can see how pale-helpless-shocked the boy looks, and beyond— Kurosaki Ichigo, determined but wounded—

(Wounded by Erich’s own power!)

—and still so focused, so intent, that Erich can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope.

(Even if it costs him his life, they’ll still win, he knows they will.)

(But oh, he wishes—)

(He wishes they’d brought someone, anyone else with them.)

(Urahara maybe, or Ukitake and Kyoraku, or… or anyone else, anyone without Quincy blood in their veins, a monster’s power threaded through their very souls—)

Uryuu’s expression shifts, a flicker of something in his gaze as he lays a hand on Kurosaki’s arm. Leans in. Whispers something that makes Kurosaki’s expression sharpen—

“If you cease fighting, I will give you a place in the world I create,” Yhwach announces as he comes to stand in front of Erich, a cruel smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “You can help me recreate the Quincy anew. Isn’t that what you want? A new family, a new Clan, one that doesn’t have to bow and scrape to human rulers, one that doesn’t have to be afraid of Shinigami prosecution…”

“Go to hell,” Erich spits, then gasps as Yhwach’s power yanks and forces him to his knees. Forces him to bow. “I refuse to ever work for you,” he hisses, straining against Yhwach’s control. It’s humiliating to be reduced to this, to be unable to fight, but he’ll endure. He has to.

Yhwach sighs and reaches out, setting a hand atop Erich’s head like an owner patting a dog, and says, “A pity. So much poten— hrk—!” His hand lifts. Touches the blade through his chest, the blood dripping down, and—

Erich lunges as Yhwach’s control falters. Manifests a blade and drives it up, through Yhwach’s stomach—

Gets swatted aside like an insect as Yhwach snarls, his powers twisting the world, unmaking his wounds and—

“I won’t let you,” Uryuu roars in fury, reaching out with his hand as his powers flare supernova bright across Erich’s senses.

Erich winces as he slowly pushes himself up, trying to gather his strength for another attack.

He can feel Uryuu’s desperate struggle. Can feel the way Uryuu is twisting Yhwach’s powers around-in-away. Knows it won’t be enough, will never be enough, because Uryuu is strong but Uryuu is young-tired-inexperienced and Yhwach is ancient-confident-skilled, but he doesn’t know— he doesn’t know how to help, doesn’t know if any of them can help!

(If only there were others here.)

(If only he had more strength!)

Something sparks against his senses, glittering gold-silver motes swirling. Settling. A sensation like hands against his arms, drawing him back against a chest. “It will be alright,” whispers in his mind as a hand lifts. Touches his head. Runs soothing fingers through his hair. “Just breathe. We’re here with you. Let us help.“

‘We who?’ he wants to ask, but then—

Strength fills his veins. Roars through his body like an inferno and he’s burning— he’s burning and it won’t stop, won’t end, just rage-pain-fury and there’s a scent, potent and alluring and it makes the burning worse, makes him want to— want to—

“Erich, remember who you are,” the voice in his mind urges, as an arm tightens around his chest and a chin settles atop his head. “Come back to yourself, my Successor.”

(Remember who he is?)

(But… he knows who he is!)

(…doesn’t he…?)

His body snarls without his input, his hands flexing and the breath dragging through his throat as— as something takes over. It isn’t Yhwach, is too different to be Yhwach, but it’s not him. It’s not him and it’s furious, instinct-fear-need tangled together until the only choice is to lash out, to hurt, to kill—

“Erich!” the voice shouts.

There’s something in his mind. Beneath the fury, beneath the instincts, beneath all the fear and regret and rage, there’s something that turns towards the woman’s voice, a desperate, dim light like a wavering candle and Erich—

Reaches out. Grasps it. Wraps cool-calm-soothing power around the light and gently tugs it closer, free of the maelstrom, and cradles it against his soul.

“Oh,” murmurs another voice, masculine this time, and the light cradled in Erich’s grasp settles. Strengthens. Burns bright-bright-brighter as the maelstrom begins to settle. “Thank you,” the light tells him as it reaches out to brush warm-kind-grateful against Erich’s mind. And then it turns, looks outward, and asks, “Io?”

“They need our help,” the woman’s voice — Io’s voice? — responds, her hand threading through Erich’s hair once again. “Will you aid them?”

The light flickers, something tired-worn-sorrowful about it, before it settles once more and reaches out, reaches past Erich’s shield and presses a gentle, wordless question into his mind.

Erich takes a shuddering breath, surprised he can do even that much, and then closes his eyes. Tips his head back against the body of golden motes and breathes out, part of him screaming in terror at the idea presented but—

What choice does he have?

The light takes his wordless assent and sweeps forward, settling in control and gently tucking Erich aside, present and aware but helpless, too tired to struggle and too trapped to prevent anything about to happen.

(If he’s made a mistake, if he’s trusted wrongly, if this strange presence turns him against Uryuu and Kurosaki—!)

“Everything will be alright,” Io whispers in his mind as she lets go and his body rises on its own, settling into a strange stance. “We’ll help you protect your important ones.”

Determination floods his mind as his body moves, reaching back to grasp—

Empty air meets his hand, shock-frustration-resignation skittering across his mind before the presence clenches his jaw and shoves it aside, refocusing on the combat in front of them.

They’re being ignored for the moment, the presence notes with relief, before that too is set aside and the only thing in their mind is sharp analysis and emerging plans. They move slowly around the edge of the room, gaze on the fight between Yhwach, Kurosaki, and Uryuu, their lips compressing as the presence notes the rising exhaustion in the teens.

Erich focuses on the presence, on what he can sense of the other’s plans, and then tentatively reaches out, offering his knowledge of Yhwach’s abilities. He can feel the way the other turns towards him, can feel how the other pours over the knowledge, accepting and integrating it without even a blink, no matter how strange Yhwach’s reality warping and control must seem to an outsider.

Their empty hand flexes, a brief flicker of longing through their mind and—

Erich reaches out before he can reconsider. Offers his skills to the other. Feels the shimmer of awe-wonder-acceptance in return and presses forward—

The presence tugs him closer, opening its mind and letting him see what it wants: a long rifle with bayonet, a strange half-cape with armor down the right arm, and a strange mask and support structure. It watches as Erich takes that knowledge and calls forth his power, turning knowledge into existence, and then makes a soft, pleased noise as it hefts the rifle and shrugs the half-cape into a better position.

And then, without a moment’s hesitation, it lunges forward, diving into the fray with a vicious, single-minded intensity.

The bayonet flashes. Slices through Yhwach’s arm. Draws blood—

The scent rips through the presence’s mind. Almost jars it back into the twisting maelstrom of fury-pain-rage except— except Erich catches it again. Sets himself between the presence and the maelstrom. Builds a wall of power to guard the boundary.

“Get back,” the presence orders Kurosaki and Uryuu, even as it whispers its thanks to Erich. “Breathe. Gather yourselves.”

“And what do you think you’re going to do?” Yhwach asks derisively, giving their changed equipment a skeptical look. “Have I not already proven how futile your resistance is?”

Erich flinches as Yhwach’s power yanks at his body, yanks at his will—

“That won’t work on me,” the presence snarls while coiling itself around Erich, shielding him from Yhwach the same way he’s shielding it from the maelstrom. “I’m not one of yours.”

Yhwach’s eyes widen then narrow, one hand rising as his power tries to twist—

“No,” Uryuu snaps, hands white-knuckled around his bow and power stretching-stretching-stretching out, covering the room, countering every ripple of Yhwach’s strength.

The presence grins darkly then swirls into action, bayonet flashing once— again— again—

Blood blooms across Yhwach’s body as he struggles to retaliate, reishi blade striking out to counter or redirect each blow, but the presence controlling Erich’s body just huffs a dry laugh and swirls away. It pulls at Erich’s skills and integrates hirenkyaku into its movement, activates Blut, draws forth reserves of strength that Erich didn’t realize were there.

“Hold still!” Yhwach barks as he twists around, trying to keep up with the presence in Erich’s body. His blade flashes out. Meets only air. Jerks to the side just barely in time to deflect another strike. “Your wild efforts do nothing but tire you out and prolong the inevitable,” he announces.

The presence scoffs. Lifts a hand from the bayonet. Calls forth strange violet-green arrows and launches them at Yhwach even as it darts away.

“And yet still you use my powers against me, expecting it to work,” Yhwach scoffs while slashing his blade, severing the arrows— and then gasps in pain as the violet portion rips through his defense. Rips through his body, jagged lightning dancing across his skin and making him falter.

“Got you,” the presence whispers as it launches itself forward. Twists around Yhwach, right hand letting go of the bayonet and something triggering as they come up behind his back, hand becoming a claw, glowing bright-vicious-terrifying even as the mask writhes across their face, and then—

Yhwach screams as the presence slams their clawed hand up through his chest and out the other side. Erich flinches, gagging at the sight-sound-sensation of flesh tearing and bones breaking, and then gags again as— as hot-metallic-disgusting liquid pours into their mouth. As the presence swallows without any sign of discomfort — in fact, with all signs of enjoyment — and then tears their clawed hand free.

The claw fades away as they step back and stare down at Yhwach’s unmoving body, assessing the man for any sign of life.

“Is that enough?” the presence asks with a touch of concern, brushing against the memories of Yhwach shrugging off earlier wounds like nothing. “Should I immolate his body?”

Erich hesitates at the offer, wondering if it’s really necessary, but— “Better safe than sorry,” he agrees, despite there being no indication that Yhwach is going to get back up.

(If anything, it will erase the evidence of how violently the man died.)

(God, what must Kurosaki and Uryuu think of him now?)

The presence brushes sorrow-apology-regret against Erich’s mind, then takes another step back and switches the bayonet to their right hand. Their left rises, palm towards their chest and hand slowly closing into a fist, as something odd stirs in their body. An unknown power gathers around their hand, flickers of reddish light growing brighter, before the presence abruptly thrusts their hand out like they’re throwing something.

A fireball roars to life. Crosses the distance in an instant and devours Yhwach’s body, leaving nothing but ash behind.

“There,” the presence says as it nudges at Erich’s power and dissolves the gear he made for it. “It’s done.”

“Thank you,” Erich tells it, then startles as the presence relinquishes control without a fight, sliding away into the depths of his soul without another word. He tries to catch it as it goes, only for it to slip through his mental grasp. “Wait—”

But it’s too late. The presence is curled away so tightly he can barely sense it, and what he can sense is… rough. Painful. A coil of exhaustion-sorrow-loss that makes Erich’s heart ache and tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

(Where had this being come from?)

(What had it lost?)

Erich takes a shuddering breath and flexes his hands, trying to settle back into his own body, into his own self, after… after everything: Yhwach’s control, a stranger’s control, his entire world-view being shattered—

His knees give way and he hits the ground with a thump, body slumping forward—

Warm hands catch his shoulders. Pull him sideways to rest against someone’s— against Kuroski’s side, the boy’s supernova spill of reiatsu unmistakable no matter how tired he is. “Rerugen-san? Ishida, check him—”

“I’m just tired,” Erich grumbles as he runs one trembling hand across his mouth, doing his best to ignore the taste of—

(No, don’t think about it.)

—and trying to gather his strength to pull away for Kurosaki. He shouldn’t be showing such weakness in front of Kurosaki or Uryuu — he’s the adult, he should be able to keep himself together! — but it’s… it’s hard. He hurts, hurts all the way down to his bones, and his spiritual powers are drained. In fact, even his powers ache, a sign that he’s on the verge of burning himself out.

(He’s going to need to rest for weeks to recover.)

(Damn!)

“Just tired,” Uryuu repeats snippily as he kneels next to Erich and tugs lightly at the corner of his bloodied shirt. “Like you didn’t take the brunt of that bastard’s attention.”

“Better me than you,” Erich says as he swats at Uryuu’s hand and forces himself to straighten up. “I’ve had decades to temper my will,” he reminds them when Uryuu’s expression turns mulish and Kurosaki’s scowl deepens. “Your strengths were better used trying to kill him, and you couldn’t do that with him trying to control you.”

“Fat lot of good that did us,” Kurosaki says with a snort and a sideways glance at the burnt stone where Yhwach fell, then pauses, eyes narrowing and expression going colder as he adds, “‘Better me than you,’ huh? Rerugen-san—”

“I am not arguing this with you, not right now,” Erich interrupts before Kurosaki can say anything more.

“Well I sure as fuck am,” Uryuu hisses like an offended cat, hand clenching in Erich’s shirt as he leans in. “What the hell do you think—”

“No,” Erich repeats firmly, even as he rests a hand atop Uryuu’s and squeezes it comfortingly. “Uryuu-kun, I am exhausted and wrung out, we all are. I understand your anger, but right now is not the time. Once we’ve all rested we can speak of it, but right now we’re all more likely to say things we’ll regret than anything productive.”

Uryuu’s jaw clenches and his gaze darts down to where Erich’s hand is covering his, before asking, “You promise…?” in the smallest, most defeated voice Erich’s ever heard out of him.

“I promise. We’ll talk about… all of this… later,” Erich says, giving Uryuu’s hand another squeeze, then winces slightly at opening himself up to talking about, well… whatever happened at the end. He’d meant to address only the disillusionment of facing Yhwach — frankly, he needs time to come to terms with that bombshell — and the decision he’d made to attract the genocidal bastard’s attention onto just himself, but… well…

Hopefully the teens aren’t too disgusted with what the stranger made his body do. Hopefully they’ll accept what little he knows about the two—

Wait. Two.

Where’s Io?

Erich pushes further from Kurosaki’s grasp and scans the room, searching for any sign of the unknown woman made of golden motes and finding nothing: no humanoid shapes, no swarm of motes, nothing, as if she never existed. He’s sure he didn’t imagine her though, not with the way the stranger inside him reacted to her voice.

Kurosaki sets a steadying hand on Erich’s shoulder and scans the area as he asks, “What are you looking for?”

“I thought… no, never mind.” Erich sighs and tugs Uryuu’s hand free of his shirt, saying, “Let’s just get out of here. I want to go home.”

Uryuu nods sharply and rises to his feet, offering Erich his hand. “That I can agree with,” he says as he pulls Erich to his feet and then slings Erich’s arm over his shoulder. “Come on, Kurosaki, lead the way.”

Kurosaki tsks but doesn’t complain as he rises to his feet and stalks towards the entrance to the throne room, clearly intent on making sure no one bothers them as they leave. Which is good, because Erich doesn’t want to deal with anything else right now — can’t deal with anything else right now, if he’s being honest — and if Kurosaki’s dark scowl and bloodied blade doesn’t clear the way, Erich’s not sure what will.

Still, he resists Uryuu’s attempt to move him in order to cast one last glance around the throne room, wondering if this time he’ll find—

But nothing changes. Io doesn’t emerge.

Erich purses his lips and looks away.

(It’s fine, she’s probably fine.)

(…there’s nothing he can do about it anyway…)

He lets Uryuu guide him out.

(It’s time to go home.)