Curtain Call
By: SurreptitiousFox245

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples. I'm just swiping the characters and universe for my own bit of fun.

Quick Author's Note: I have no idea what I'm thinking starting a new fic right now when I've got two going currently, but hey! I'm in college. Stupid decisions are the norm, right?

Anyway, I've had this tumbling around in my head for a while. This chapter serves more as a prologue despite its length, so it's sketchy on some descriptions adn I do apologize. It ran away from me a little. Curtain Call takes place thirty years after the end of the manga (not the epilogue, but after the defeat of Ywach by Ichigo), and IS primarily going to be a mystery. However, despite my best efforts, there will be a bit of a romance lingering around in the background because I'm a sucker for it, so. This is also going to be posted on Archive of Our Own, so if you prefer reading over there, then it's under the same username. I dual post because I'm lame like that.

Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 1: Curtain Call

"You are the devil in disguise.
I see the sins that are burning in your eyes.
Watch the angels as they fall.
Down to your knees, this is your curtain call."

-"Curtain Call", State of Mine

I grimace for the tenth time in the past hour, but as with the other faces I've pulled, it goes unnoticed by my comrades as we peer intently off of the roof of an abandoned skyscraper. I am okay with this until the third time, when the frowns become borne of suspicion instead of the unpleasant feeling of rain waterlogging my shihakusho. We all are soaked through, had been after spending more than fifteen minutes in the world of the living, and everyone is sour because of the weather and the Hollow we have yet to find. But I am the only one visibly upset for caution's sake, gripping my soul pager beneath my sleeve as if it is a lifeline.

Glancing at Tatsuyoru out of the corner of my eye, I have to marvel for not the first time that the sheer amount of pomposity he holds can be packed into one man. He is the ranking officer here, the one leading our mission as Fifth Seat, and he, like the other commanding officers I have had in my time as a Shinigami, is above listening to the unfounded nerves of an unranked nobody. In theory, it does not work this way. In practice, however, unseated is typically synonymous with inexperienced and insignificant, and I send my team leader a nasty glower before I quickly turn to my pager instead. The map displayed on the screen is frustratingly clear of dots even in the places I know they should be. Another glance at Tatsuyoru, and my eyes narrow.

This man is going to get us all killed.

"Tatsuyoru-san," I say softly, one last effort to get him to listen. I know his type—he will sooner punish firmness as insubordination than listen to the concerns behind it. Deference is unfortunately the game I have to play with him. "Are we sure that this Hollow is not masking its presence?" He flicks his gaze, a startling violet, to me. He is glaring, but I expect it and don't flinch.

"Positive." Response clipped and terse, I can sense in both the bit of reiatsu he is leaking and in his posture that he is irritated. His mission is not going according to plan, and Tatsuyoru is not happy. "We have eyewitness reports from the posted sentinel and from observations carried out by Division 12 that it is mid-level at best. It would be a miracle for it to be able to. This was in the briefing, Kozaki, or were you not paying attention to the Captain?"

Gritting my teeth against the goading, I refuse to rise to the bait and reply demurely, "Iie, I was listening. Sumimasen. I meant no disrespect." I bow my head and take a step back to fall in line with the other seven squad members, but my reiatsu is leashed tightly to prevent it flaring with my anger. I know the Fifth Seat knows why that aspect of my self is quiet. The other members of my squad do as well, but they are also aware of Tatsuyoru's unexplained distaste for me. In the thirty years I've been his direct subordinate, he has never liked me. One could even go so far as to say he hates me. For ten of those, I've also suspected my continuing unseated status has been his doing, though I can't prove anything.

He huffs his acceptance of my apology, though it is too obvious he is disappointed in not having anything to call me out on. "Fine. Sasada, Gushiken, Onishi—you're with me. We'll find it quicker if we split up." The three in question give each other hesitant looks—they apparently don't like this any more than I do—before Gushiken Suzu, ever the brave one, steps forward to follow the officer. I've always liked Gushiken-chan, though I've not known her long. She's got a level head on her shoulders and I don't doubt the green-haired girl will make seated officer within the decade. She was placed on Tatsuyoru's squad almost immediately out of the academy, which is rather impressive. The higher ranked the officer one is assigned to out of Shino, the more skilled the Shinigami is in theory. "Unranked" is a bit of a misnomer in this regard. As it is, it took me twenty years to weasel my way up from being on the Twelfth Seat's squad to Fifth Seat's, and I've been stationary for thirty.

I shake the thoughts away. Now is not the time.

Sasada Isamu, a bright young man with a plain face and an impressive skill in kido that more than makes up for it, follows Gushiken-chan. Onishi Yuu is fiddling with the gold hilt of his zanpakuto when he sighs and joins his fireteam reluctantly. I consider Onishi-kun and Sasada-kun friends, and I am fond of Gushiken-chan as a comrade, so I am quick to notice their discomfort is mirroring my own. Something about this mission seemed wrong from the second we were briefed, and I am not shy about drawing attention to that. Sasada-kun and Onishi-kun, at least, trust my warnings and are treating this whole ordeal with the caution I believe it deserves.

Tatsuyoru Kohaku, on the other hand, is calm, if not a little annoyed at the delays we have faced, and that annoyance only deepens when he again lays violet eyes on me. His eyes have always unnerved me. They're too bright, just the wrong shade, and they're always so blank. If eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul, then why are his devoid of one? "Ito, you take Ishikawa, Fujita, and Kozaki and take the western side. We'll go around and meet at the northernmost point of the city." Ito Akane is Tatsuyoru's unofficial second-in-command despite me being the squad member with the most experience aside from the officer. I do not begrudge her this, however, as she is a reasonable woman who takes her job seriously. While I may not particularly like the redhead, I do respect her, and she saved my life on missions once or twice. Her brown eyes blaze with determination as she nods firmly.

Next to me, Ishikawa Hotaru groans a little. My best friend is about as fond of Ito-san as I am of Tatsuyoru. I nudge the blonde conspiratorially, to which I receive a tired, soggy grin. I wince. Yeah, I think in this instance everyone could sympathize with Hotaru and her defeated expression. And we haven't even started this mission yet, not really. Not in earnest.

"Should we split up the groups, too, while we're at it?" Fujita-san grumbles, though it's under his breath and not meant to be heard. If Tatsuyoru or Ito-san do hear his complaints, they do not acknowledge him.

Our illustrious leader continues as if immune to the tension filtering into the air through the raindrops. He probably is, in retrospect. "Keep your pagers close and send out an alert if you find anything of note. If you come across the Hollow, you are free to engage."

"You don't think we ought to call for backup first?" The question is out of my mouth before I can think it through. Ito-san winces behind her curtain of blood-colored hair. She knows just as well what reaction will be garnered, and neither of us are disappointed.

Tatsuyoru's voice is chilled. "Do I need to remind you again, Kozaki? The Hollow is mid-level at best. If any of you by yourselves are not able to dispatch of it, then you have no place here. Your fireteams are more than capable." Pursing my lips together into a tight, barely-restrained line, I remind myself that he is ignoring my warnings about the patterns being off. His concerns are not the same as my concerns, and he will not act accordingly.

My fist tightens around my pager. No buzzing, no blipping, no notifications. No roars of a beast on the wind, no dark reiatsu signatures in the air. The behavior being exhibited by this Hollow is smart, but Tatsuyoru is correct when saying that a mid-level Hollow would not hide itself like this. That he is not seeing the danger in this discrepancy alone is terrifying. That he is putting so much stock in eyewitness reports from an overworked sentinel and from Division 12 reports is terrifying. That he is not considering something more at play is terrifying. Even if this is what it appears at face value, disregarding the possibility…

This man is going to get us all killed, I can't help thinking again as I watch our two fireteams flicker away with bursts of shunpo. I take one last look at my pager screen. Nothing. With a sigh, I flip it closed and move to stow it in the inside pocket sewn into my kosode for safekeeping before following Ito-san, Fujita-san, and Hotaru. Fingers dig into my shoulder before I can turn to the left, however, and I am too stunned and too tired to stop the jump from coiling through me as I'm whirled around to face my superior. Reiatsu is shoved back as I have to nearly bodily force myself to not lash out at him from the shock. At my hip, I feel my zanpakuto pulse comfortingly, reminding me that she is available should I need her. She is all that keeps me from actually attacking with the realization that only myself and the officer remain on the rooftop.

"Yes?"

"Keep your mouth shut."

I blink up at Tatsuyoru because I can't quite fathom the words he just spoke to me. He is harsh with me, yes. Tricky. Trying to trap and box me into some form of discipline or trying to find where I go wrong so as to pin me with blame, to knock me down, but he has never been outright hostile. He may not listen to me, but he has never told me to quiet my concerns. He may disregard them, but he always hears. "Excuse me?" His grip on my shoulder tightens exponentially, and my eyes go wide at the bit of pain. The rain plastering dark strands of hair to his pale forehead bring out the unnatural quality of Tatsuyoru's eyes, and I am stricken with the visage he makes. I am not afraid of much. I am not afraid of Tatsuyoru Kohaku. But it is a near thing in this moment.

"Do not question my orders. Keep your ridiculous theories to yourself. I will have you brought up on charges of insubordination if you do so again, am I clear?" His words are hissed through gritted teeth, and his grip moves to my collar to lift me to my toes. With the rain and lack of balance, my waraji are hard pressed to find purchase on the concrete.

I do not notice. I'm too angry, too indignant at this blatant refusal to acknowledge me, to acknowledge that at fifty years of service as a Shinigami, I know what I'm talking about. I'm not a green-nosed academy recruit, or the same scrawny kid practically barely off the streets of Rukongai like I was back then. And while it isn't the first time I've had my theory referred to as ridiculous or stupid or overreaching, I want to scream because something is seriously wrong here, and I don't understand how I'm the only one to see it.

Quietly, I reply in a deceptively soft tone. I do not scream, I do not yell, even as my throat burns for me to do so. "If you don't wish to hear my concerns, Tatsuyoru-san, then demote me to Sixth Seat Ikeda's squad." In contrast to my voice, I keep steady eye contact, a steady challenge at heartless amethysts and do not waver. Even as his reiatsu spikes quickly, I do not flinch. Our teams have noticed our absences by now. I know that, he knows that—we have little time for whatever reason it is he detained me. So, I am unsurprised when he releases his hold on me with a faint shove.

"You'd be my problem again in a decade," he gripes and then waves me away. "I gave you orders." I expect a threat about not reporting this to captain or lieutenant, but I am alarmed when moments of silence tick by without one. Finally, after a few beats and with apprehension adding another layer of discomfort in my gut, I turn and take steps towards the edge of the building.

Ignoring Tatsuyoru's eyes piercing into the back of my skull, I funnel reiatsu to my legs in preparation for shunpo. Hotaru's presence is barreling towards me, though if I start stepping now, I can meet her before she makes it to the roof and pass off my delay as…preoccupation with my pager? Yes, that should work. I move, and…

"Yoshiko." It is my quick thinking that saves me from tumbling off the edge of the skyscraper with a makeshift plate of reishi to balance on. The stumbling is probably comical. Bolting my head back to Tatsuyoru, I can't find words. I barely tolerate him calling me Kozaki with no honorifics, and that is only because he at the end of the day remains my superior and does it to everyone, sans the captain. Calling me by my given name, however, is uncalled for. But he looks unfazed like he hasn't done anything strange, no different than when he callously raised me off the ground or when he was giving orders to the fireteams. He is collected, maybe a bit annoyed. His eyes are cold and flat and nothing as per usual, but his voice…I can't describe it. It's not something I've heard from him before, though. He repeats words, but they're different somehow.

"Keep your mouth shut."

He's gone before I can blink, before I can process, and this is how Hotaru finds me another split second later—staring overwhelmed and confused at a spot on the rooftop like I'd somehow just watched a ghost write their own eulogy.

The makeshift patrol is uneventful. I check my pager every second step and am further agitated when I find nothing on the screen. I've been jumpy since the second time I looked, and we're barely halfway along the arc to our destination. Ito-san is stopping briefly every so often to allow me my monitoring, but I know she is merely humoring me. She appreciates my caution, but she doesn't believe me either. No one wants to believe me when I say that beasts have behavior and that means they on some level have personality. It means they're predictable. It means they're relatable, though, and relatable is harder to kill. So they don't listen to the unseated Shinigami and blind themselves to the patterns that the creatures follow. They don't listen when I tell them that a mid-level Hollow randomly appearing and disappearing is masking itself, and it would only mask itself if it is told. They argue that it's not masking its presence and I am delusional, that a mid-level Hollow doesn't hide its presence because it can't, not because it is too brash to see the need as the string of bodies and chaos and devoured plusses it leaves behind indicates. They argue that trying to see the creatures as people like they bloody tell us they were before corruption is "dangerous", and that it impairs my ability to cleanse them properly. It fosters guilt, and guilt is the parent of hesitation. Hesitation gets Shinigami killed.

Or so they claim. I disagree. Of course I disagree, it is my theory being labeled as a fantasy. But I'm caught in a godforsaken web of frustration where I know almost beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am right, while also being stuck understanding why no one wants to believe me. Why it is easier to label me a madwoman and relegate me to the masses of unranked soldiers to keep me out of sight, out of mind, and still useful. I learned an understanding of behavior that is both a blessing and an unsightly curse. We know that Hollows are corrupted conglomerations of human souls, we understand that any one of us Shinigami could be the remnant of a purified Hollow—but applying my theory to hunting them? That makes it too real. That makes it too tangible. It is oft easier to close one's eyes to the light than to physically reach over and extinguish it—this does not require feeling the heat on top of seeing its glow.

Hotaru lays a hand on my shoulder sympathetically, and I flip the pager closed again. "Everything's going to be fine, Yoshi-chan." I don't like the nickname, but I learned with her a long time ago to just go with it. I send her a strangled smile before flash-stepping away to follow Ito-san. Hotaru trusts me, trusts my instincts. But even she doesn't believe me, and I'd be lying if I said it doesn't hurt.

We stop in a wooded clearing just barely on the outskirts of town. It's hidden enough to warrant some checking, if only for lost souls, and the four of us fan out like a well-oiled machine. Perhaps there is some tension in the group, but we work together well. It's why we're a team. The rain has let up by now, but the grass is still wet and the dirt is little more than mud. I look down at my waraji and tabi in distaste, knowing that the second we are done with this mission, a thorough cleaning is going to be in order.

Fujita-san kicks at a stick, only to grumble when the action sends a muddy spray to speckle his face. "What are we even looking for? Hollows aren't exactly quiet."

"Quiet! We're definitely not going to hear it over your yapping!" Hotaru scolds good-naturedly, playfully smacking the brunette on the back of the head. He sends her a scowl, but as with her rebukes, it isn't serious. The two aren't actually siblings, but they were raised like it in Rukongai and act the part. It never fails to be amusing, actually, even though I've never been close to Fujita Takeshi as with Hotaru.

Ito-san is quick to silence them both. "Something is interfering with the sensors. And if it's quiet, then it's probably feeding. Keep looking."

"I don't know," the male says back, rubbing the nape of his neck almost sheepishly. "I'm actually with Kozaki-chan on this one. Something's not right, Ito. You can't tell me you haven't felt it, too."

The redhead's jaw clenches and face pulls like she just ate something sour. She's been on edge, too—we've all felt it in her reiatsu, though she's not going to admit it. I have to wonder what Fujita-san thinks he's going to get with asking her such. "Do your jobs, dammit."

My blonde best friend bristles. "We are doing our jobs, you red-haired bi—!"

"Hotaru!" I hiss, smacking her shoulder harshly enough that she is startled into quieting. She pouts at me, but any retort she has to fire back is interrupted by a rumble.

No, not a rumble, a roar. Several of them.

Our second-in-command starts, jerking her soul pager out of her kosode when it starts beeping and crying in tandem with mine, Fujita-san's, and Hotaru's. I grab my own in lieu of watching her reaction, and my breath catches when I see not one, not two, but three dots appear on the grid-like map of the human city we were scouting. And what's worse is that they appear out of nowhere. There isn't a garganta nearby and there was no sign of reiatsu fluctuation consistent with a soul transforming into a Hollow, much less three of them. One is heading towards our group, and I watch as two others veer off to Tatsuyoru, Gushiken, Onishi, and Sasada's approximate location. I quickly sweep for reiatsu and my dread doubles. Correction—the two are heading for their exact location.

And the two are bigger than we thought. The blips are the wrong color for mid-level. These are menos. Adjuchas.

I curse silently. "Ito-san—!"

"I know," she replies. She sees them, too. The woman scrutinizes the alerts for a split second more before looking at me, her face drawn and serious and a bit scared if I'm honest. "The one heading here is lower class, so it shouldn't be an issue. Kozaki, I want you to go help Tatsuyoru-san and his group, and when we're done here, we'll meet up with you. Assess the situation—if you don't feel it's winnable, call a retreat. We'll meet at point of origin and summon a Senkaimon." I want to argue, but I know I will not win. Ito-san is known for her stubbornness, and I do ultimately trust her orders. We both recognize that I will be calling the retreat—even in a group, we have no hope of defeating even one Adjuchas level Hollow, seated officer or not, and everyone knows that. She is trying to be optimistic, but I have to wonder if this is the time, or if she is simply trying to save face.

"Right," I nod, and I am gone before I hear a reply, flash-stepping on the wind and hoping I make it in time. Before I reach the area I feel the Adjuchas coalescing around, I sense a simultaneous drop and spike in reiatsu. I'm unsure what it means, but the spike was Tatsuyoru and I assume it means he released his zanpakuto. My own is not drawn, but I grip Fūmittsu's hilt until my knuckles pale.

The area I come upon is empty, curiously, and bathed in darkness. I feel nothing. The reiatsu has vanished, both Hollow and Shinigami. Cautious as I advance through a cement-covered lot, paying attention to the flow of reiatsu and reishi around me so ardently, my feet stumble over something laying on the ground and I trip. Taking a few steps to regain my balance, I look down at the object that stumbled me, only to meet a broken zanpakuto as it begins dissolving back into particles. My eyes go wide. That was Sasada's blade—I recognize the black cloth.

He's dead. Recently. Zanpakuto begin dissolving…thirty seconds after the death of their wielder?

One hundred twenty, my own zanpakuto corrects softly in my mind, but it doesn't really matter. He is still recently dead, and I am questioning whether my inability to sense my comrades' reiatsu is because my senses are being dulled or because they are dead. There's a trail of blood away from where the weapon was, and I regretfully follow it to Sasada's corpse. His eyes are wide in death. Surprised? Pain? I can't tell. But he was gouged, thick, deep wounds lining his torso. It is gruesome, and while I've seen worse, it is different on a friend. I look away.

"Hello!" I call into the warping shadows, seeing things within them I know are not there. They leap out at me and stretch fingers that never reach. It's unnerving. "Tatsuyoru-san! Onishi-kun! Gushiken-chan! Anyone!"

"Damare!" a voice quickly wheezes from my right. I pause, then dart to it, collapsing next to the body once I identify him as Tatsuyoru. The word makes me freeze. Damare. Shut up. Not fifteen minutes ago he was telling me to be quiet for another reason, and I feel like there's some sort of irony to that.

He is on his back, wounded, zanpakuto only loosely gripped in his hand. It is sealed, so I assume his shikai was dropped when he was injured. I worry the marks on his shoulders, staining his shihakusho, and mine, with blood. A lot of blood. Why did I never pay attention to kaido lessons? Still, my hands glow green as I do what I can to begin restoring my superior's reiatsu and try knitting the wound shut.

I don't get far. His hand, bloody and slick and cold, darts up to grip my wrist. Ordinarily, I figure it would've been bruising, but in his weakened state, it has barely any pressure. "Don't. G'back."

"I can't," I stress, my attempt at kaido fizzling out with my concentration. "I need to evacuate you. Where are Gushiken and Onishi?" I forego honorifics in haste. There is no time for formalities.

Tatsuyoru coughs, and I think I see more blood dribble down his chin. It is not reassuring. His eyes meet mine, and where they are usually piercing, now they are dull and frantic. There is emotion in his gaze. It's something I'm not used to, and I start. "Gone. Go. Trap."

My brow furrows, and I ask, "What do you mean?" Or, I mean to ask. I don't finish the question, because Tatsuyoru is suddenly lunging up and pushing me from my crouch to land painfully on my elbows. The move is seriously weak, but it was enough as I catch sight of something twisted, gnarled, and sharp swinging through the air where my head had been. Instead of my head, though, it catches a length of my hair and digs into the remainder of my superior's chest. I think I scream. Maybe. I don't know. I'm not thinking clearly when I feel Tatsuyoru's reiatsu completely vanish.

Scrambling to my feet, I grab the hilt of my zanpakuto just in time to catch the claws that killed the Fifth Seat swinging at me again. True to her nature, Fūmittsu pulses and a gust of wind helps me draw her uchigatana form from the sheathe in a flash to sever the limbs before the beast knows what's happening. I use shunpo to put some distance between myself and this thing I can barely see, but it turns out to be unnecessary. The darkness lightens enough for me to make out the form of one of the Adjuchas, a lumbering beast of red skin and a typical white mask twisted into a fox-like sneer. Absentmindedly, I find it amusing that the thing doesn't have any tails. Shadows spiral back into the hole in the center of its chest. They had been artificial, then.

It roars in pain. I managed to sever three of its fingers before it was able to retract its hand, and it is bleeding black blood. It's also angry, but it hesitates. Landing one hit was lucky, a result of catching it unawares with the quick-draw my uchigatana is best at, but I'm unsure if I can really defend against it. I have to try, though. Bringing Fūmittsu up in a ready stance, I prepare myself for a hit that never comes. Instead of attacking, the Adjuchas watches me a moment, then takes a few steps back. Then more. And within moments, it is leaping off to the west.

I don't understand. Why wouldn't it attack? Adjuchas rely on devouring souls to remain Adjuchas—without it, they revert to a Gillian. And I am a Shinigami. Sasada was a Shinigami. Tatsuyoru was a Shinigami. We are tasty wells of reiatsu. Me, I'm a living target and harder to catch, though not by much. But Sasada and Tatsuyoru—why not eat them? Why just kill them and leave the bodies? And then why not attempt to kill me?

Where is the second one? My eyes narrow as I search for reiatsu and find none but the residual of my comrades and the Hollow that just went westward. I glance over at Tatsuyoru's body, now mangled. Trap…what had he meant by…?

"Kuso!" Violently cursing, I shunpo as fast as I can back to where my fireteam had been. West. My team was to the west and the Hollow went in that direction. The lower level Hollow, the two stronger Hollow going after the group with the ranking member. The areas where the teams were when we got the alarms, when the Hollows showed themselves.

They were funneling us in, but we didn't respond how we should have. We held our ground. I've seen this tactic somewhere. I can't remember where, but I have seen it. Why Hollows are using it… In between steps, I pull my pager out and send a request for reinforcements, and after a split second of contemplation I forward the message to my lieutenant. I don't know when or if they'll be granted, and I know I'm breaking protocol in doing it instead of Ito-san, but I hope I'll be given leeway considering the circumstances.

If they'd bloody listened to me…!

I appear in the clearing in a flurry of fabric and fear. Darkness is again unnaturally blanketing the area, cutting off my vision and ability to sense reiatsu. However, I can barely make out a hunched outline and can hear something crunching. Wincing, I bring my hand up.

The kido is quick to build, and I fire it without an incantation. "Hado #32—Oukasen!" The arc of yellow makes direct contact, but it barely stuns the creature. It glances back at me, the same fox Hollow from before, and it appears irritated with me again. Dropping whatever—whomever—it had been eating, the shadows retract again as it charges a cero. Curiously, its attack is grey in color, but I can't analyze it further before I'm forced to shunpo out of the way.

My pager chirps a response to my request. That's quick…I don't look, but a response is a good thing. I'm going to need to hold out until they get here anyway, and releasing my zanpakuto will garner attention from Soul Society. "Himei, Fūmittsu!" She pulses, and in a gust of aptly shrieking wind my grey-wrapped uchigatana splits into a set of identical tantō. The double-edged kissaki-moroha is dull like the blade of Fūmittsu's sealed form, and the hilts are wrapped in dingy white fabric to aid with grip. The tsuba on both is identical to the swirled oval of its sealed state, and I feel the air along my skin prickle in anticipation. My mind feels alive with my zanpakuto released, and her humming in the back of it signifies that she agrees.

The Adjuchas prepares to fire another cero at the nuisance that is my person, but I shove my right tantō with a twist of my wrist. The air surrounding it suddenly heats until the oxygen in it ignites. I lose control over it when the gas turns to plasma, and it does little real damage. However, the attack distracts it enough that its cero fizzles. I've seriously pissed it off now, and it decides to forego anything but trying to smash me to bits this time. My tantō won't really harm it themselves, so I flash step out of the way if its remaining claws and begin a game where it tries to crush me, I dodge, and try to catch it on fire. I try freezing it once, but it just breaks the thin layer of ice that begins to crawl on it before I can get far. There isn't enough time between attacks for me to set up my usual offense, and given the strength of the Hollow I'm fighting, I doubt it would even work as intended.

Attack, dodge, fire. Attack, dodge fire. Repeat. Again, and again, and again, until my reiatsu is depleted and it manages to catch my side with a claw. Aside from a few burn marks along its skin, the Adjuchas appears unharmed, and it glowers down at me with its mask.

I cry out when I land on my back. Fūmittsu's blades fly out of my hands with the ensuing flailing, and the tantō glow before reforming into her uchigatana. She is out of arms reach, her despair clearly felt through our bond. I'm too busy staring up at the Hollow. The pain lancing through my side is excruciating, and I'm bleeding more from the wound than I think I should. I check it. No, it's just that deep.

I'm going to die here, I realize numbly, the thing's mask inches from my face. I'm going to die here, and I knew I was going to—I tried warning them that something was wrong with this mission. No one listened, and now we are all going to be transported back to Soul Society in body bags. It's an infuriating thought, if not a little selfish, to think that this all could have been avoided. I am dying for nothing.

It is anger that I feel as I see the blade suddenly protrude from the Hollow's mask, and I'm unconscious before that anger has time to morph into incredulity.

Final Words: I owe y'all some translations, so let's get right on that before I forget.

Iie: No

Sumimasen: Excuse me

Damare: Shut up; considered a rude way of saying so

Kuso: Shit, used as an interjection

Himei: Shriek, Fūmittsu's release command

Fūmittsu: Literally "Third Wind"; the name of Yoshiko Kozaki's zanpakuto. Fūmittsu is a wind-type.

Uchigatana: A type of Japanese sword, the descendant of the tachi. Uchigatana can be translated to mean "sword to strike with", and their initial use was only by people of a lower class. However, during the Momoyama Period, the combined use of a long and short uchigatana (the pairing called a daisho) eventually became the symbol of the samurai class. The blade is typically between 60-70 cm, can easily be wielded one-handed due to its thinness and a shorter tang reducing its weight, and is worn edge-up unlike the tachi. This and its lighter, shorter structure make the uchigatana more maneuverable to use and the typical weapon used for quick-draw techniques.

Tanto: The tanto is essentially a dagger; the term literally translates to "short blade".

Kissaki-moroha: A rare tanto blade type that has a double-edged point-the point's back edge curves down slightly so that the point is lower than the edge, something uncommon with ordinary tanto where the back edge of the point is usually in line. A wide groove is often set in the base half of the blade.

I apologize for any misinformation, particularly with the blade types. I googled, but that can only tell me so much. Also, I didn't realize until after I created Yoshiko and her zanpakuto that Fumittsu is sort of similar to Muguruma Kensei's zanpakuto Tachikaze, at least in them being wind-types whose shikai is a knife. The similarities were entirely unintentional.

Anyway, thanks for reading! R&R!
~SurreptitiousFox