NOTAKING
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Chapter 115
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 18:45:28 +0000 UTCIchigo sat on a cracked stone step, Zangetsu resting beside him, its dark blade humming faintly in the still air. His eyes scanned the far-off sky, where Las Noches slowly crumbled under its own weight. The aftershock of his battle still hung in the air like static.
Despite the calm, his thoughts weren’t.
Aizen.
The name echoed through his head like a war drum.
He knew he’d grown stronger—strong enough to overwhelm even Ulquiorra, but Aizen was different. The kind of opponent that didn’t just overpower you… he outplayed you.
He sighed deeply and stood up, brushing the dust from his clothes. Slinging Tensa Zangetsu across his shoulder, he walked out toward the edge of the ruined palace, hoping the night air would cool the storm inside him. The chains from his sword rattled softly behind him, echoing like distant thunder.
And then—
A faint shift in pressure.
“You seem troubled, Ichigo.”
The voice was calm, resonant—icy but familiar. Ichigo turned his head slightly to the side.
Standing beside him was Tensa Zangetsu, the spirit of his Bankai. He looked as he always did—, composed, and cloaked in black. His hair tousled in a nonexistent wind that made his long coat billow dramatically. He appeared in the form of a young Yhwach.
Ichigo raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“Man… how do you always make that cloak blow like that? Is that part of the Bankai aesthetic or are you actually just cold?”
Tensa Zangetsu chuckled faintly, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Perhaps I am that cold. You know that better than anyone.”
Ichigo looked away, eyes narrowing toward the distance. “You already know why I’m stressed.”
“Yes,” Zangetsu replied. “We are one. Your doubts are mine. Your fear, your hesitation—it echoes within me.”
Ichigo sighed. “Aizen’s on a different level… and we both know it.”
Zangetsu turned to him, serious now. “Then what will you do?”
A long silence. Then Ichigo cracked a grin.
“I guess… I’ll stop doubting myself after I win.”
Tensa Zangetsu smiled at that—proud, almost like a teacher seeing his student grow. “That’s more like it. Just remember—you’re not alone. I’m with you. Always.”
With that, the spirit faded like mist.
Ichigo’s smirk softened into a full smile.
‘Alright then... let’s do this. Wait let me talk to Rukia a little bit ' he thought.
He went back and called her, Renji frowning but understanding that they were really close friends. If only he knew.
The room door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the dim corridor. The moment the soundproof Kido went up, the outside world vanished—no more footsteps, no echo, just silence… and tension.
Rukia folded her arms, leaning against the wall with a deadpan glare. “You’re seriously horny here? In the middle of Hueco Mundo?”
Ichigo shrugged, unapologetic as he slumped into the lone chair in the corner, legs spread wide. “What can I say? Maybe it’s the adrenaline… or maybe it’s because I know how good your mouth is now.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And whose fault is that, exactly?”
He smirked, tilting his head. “C’mon. You don’t have to do much—just your mouth. Quick and quiet.”
Rukia sighed, pushing off the wall and walking over. “Tch. Fine. But be quick—if my brother finds out…”
She didn’t finish the threat.
She knelt between his legs, fingers already tugging open his hakama like muscle memory. His cock was already half-hard, pulsing with anticipation. With a soft click of her tongue, she leaned in, no teasing, no warm-up—just commitment.
Slrrrp…
Ichigo hissed as her lips wrapped around the tip, warm and wet, tongue flicking with practiced ease. One hand braced against his thigh, the other stroking the base in slow, deliberate rhythm. Her eyes locked on his, and there was heat in them—annoyance, sure… but also that familiar fire.
“You’re getting way too good at this,” he muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She pulled back with a pop, wiping her mouth. “Then stop making me practice.”
And then she dove back down.
Gawk—slup—slrrrp.
She gagged softly, not from inexperience, but from how deep she took him—purposefully, like she wanted to push herself to the limit. Ichigo gritted his teeth, biting back a groan as her head bobbed with increasing speed, spit slicking everything.
The sounds were obscene.
Slrrrp. Slap. Gawk. Squelch.
“Rukia…” he breathed, hand sliding into her hair. “Fuck…”
She moaned around him, throat flexing, mouth working him with maddening rhythm. It was dangerous—anyone could come knocking. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop.
“Damn… I’m close,” he groaned, hips twitching.
She pulled back, panting slightly, lips red and wet. “Then finish. I’m not wasting all this effort.”
And with that, she sank back down one last time—deeper than before, moaning low as he throbbed inside her.
A few ragged seconds later, Ichigo cursed under his breath and came hard—gripping her hair, his head thrown back as she swallowed every drop.
She stayed there a moment, lips sealed around him, taking it all. Then slowly pulled off with a slick pop, licking her lips clean.
“Hurry up and fix yourself,” she muttered, standing and wiping her mouth. “We’re not done with this damn mission.”
Ichigo smirked as he adjusted his uniform. “Remind me to get horny in enemy territory more often.”
She glared at him on the way out—but couldn’t quite hide the smirk tugging at her lips.
As Ichigo and Rukia returned to the others, a thunderous crash echoed through the grand halls of Las Noches, shaking loose pillars and dust. From the shadowed archway, three ominous figures emerged—Szayelaporro Granz, Espada No. 8, with his gleaming spectacles and condescending smile; Zommari Rureaux, Espada No. 7, eyes cold and calm; and towering behind them, Nnoitra Gilga, Espada No. 5, dragging his scythe-like zanpakuto and grinning with sadistic hunger.
Ichigo narrowed his eyes and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
‘Tch… I forgot these clowns even existed.’
Nnoitra’s gaze fell instantly on Nel, who stood stiffly behind Ichigo. His twisted grin widened.
“Well, well… look what the little brat turned into.”
Ichigo followed his stare and felt a chill of annoyance creep up his spine. His fingers gripped the hilt of Tensa Zangetsu.
‘Should I deal with him... or let her do her thing?’ he wondered, glancing at Nel, who trembled slightly, unsure.
But he quickly made up his mind.
‘No… she’ll probably revert before she finishes him. I’ll handle it now. Quick and clean.’
With a sharp breath, he disappeared in a flash—blitzing behind Nnoitra before the Espada could blink. Tensa Zangetsu was already in motion, the blade slicing down with lethal intent.
CLANG!
A sudden spark exploded in front of him.
Another blade intercepted his.
Ichigo’s eyes flicked upward—and smirked.
“Already had your fill, Kurosaki?” Kenpachi Zaraki said, grinning wide, his eye wild with joy. “Let me have some fun this time.”
Ichigo relaxed his shoulders, stepping back. “Well… if you say so.”
Nnoitra’s breath caught in his throat. Sweat ran down his neck.
‘I was… I was dead just now...’ he realized in horror. ‘That damn kid—if that monster hadn’t stopped him, I’d be in pieces!’
He leapt back instinctively, the bravado gone from his eyes, replaced by something else. Fear.
Ichigo flashed away from the brewing battle and returned to Nel, who was clinging to his robe, her small fists gripping tightly. He placed a hand on her head.
“Don’t worry. I’ll come back for you. And we’ll fix your mask. I promise.”
Nel nodded silently, lip quivering—but she smiled.
Just then, three more powerful spiritual pressures descended upon the battlefield with cold finality. Byakuya Kuchiki, silent and composed. Mayuri Kurotsuchi, twitching with scientific glee. And Retsu Unohana, serene as death.
Byakuya stepped forward, his scarf fluttering behind him.
“Go,” he said coolly, his gaze unmoving. “You’re needed in Karakura Town.”
Kenpachi’s grin stretched wider. “Hah. Took your time, pretty boy.”
Unohana walked forward, her hands folded in front of her as she glanced at Ichigo. Her tone was gentle, yet there was no room for argument.
“Come. I’ll take you back.”
Ichigo gave Nel one last reassuring glance, then nodded and turned.
TO BE CONTINUED
