They surrounded her, just a bunch of power hungry animals. Driven by basic instincts, drawn to power, the foolish things think they can defeat her.

No, foolishness does not cover it, the white hollow looks away, knowing perfectly well what is going to happen. His companion is a Vaste Lorde after all.

A strong one at that.

Her hair is scarlet under the moon, flowing without any wind. Eyes half closed, she couldn't possibly careless about what's coming. She sighed into the wind. The white hollow turns away, he knew exactly what's coming, the blood and carnage. The silent fight that will ensue, and end in seconds. And the desperate flight of those who remain...

But the worst is when she stands alone among the blood, with eyes and hair that matched the ground around her. Shoulders hunched and the complete, utterly defeated stance of her silhouette.

And the tears, he can't stand the hidden tears. The rain that falls from her ruby like eyes. Looking utterly painful. Gladly, he doesn't have those emotions.

All he has is the void.

Well... Her hand is on her sword, it can't be long now. He stood a distance away, watching his only companion as she stood in the circle of hunters. Her reiatsu still suppressed, her sword sheathed.

The wind stilled, holding its breath, waiting, waiting.

Long scarlet hair flowing, hiding the moon from his view. She is the only one with color in this desert, except his eyes.

But that doesn't mean anything either.

And then, frenzy. They leaped towards her, predators in their own right. Yet no where close, he moved a bit farther. While the scarlet haired woman have no chioce but to fight, the man did.

He saw no meaning in this fight.

No need to fight, no sensation. He feels nothing, does nothing.

Crash! A Vaste Lorde lands in the space before him, he looked at the white hollow, and grinned.

"Ah, seems like I found her toy..." Hands outstretched, the lord came towards him. Toy... Such a weird word. He looks back towards his companion, locked in battle with a dozen of her would be killers. Surely he meant more to her than just a toy, and he feels a little something for her. No... it's gone. It must be nothing then... Void, like he always is and always will be.

Non-existence is happiness. He's sure.

A sound... The white hollow snaps to attention at drawn sword of the lord. He didn't care, death was no concern to him. Happiness is nothingness. Would he achieve happiness if he just died, and faded away? The white hollow watch as the scarlet haired one dart in front of him, leaping with grace at the offender.

He watched as they struggled back and forth. A utterly worthless fight.

Nothing has meaning, the scene before him, reflected in his eyes is nothing. What isn't reflected does no exist. He turned and walked.

Walk walk walk walk walk...

A tree looms before him, twisted and gloomy. A pure white mess of spikes that is a tree. The beauty, it was the closest he had seen to the void. The beauty of being completely, and utterly empty.

He wanted it, wanted it desperately, to reach it.

And he did, falling in to the tree, pieces of his mask broke. Yet there's no need to care, no purpose. The pain is temporary, he will sink in to nothingness, like he always desired. The pieces fell, leaving the black of his hair.

A spark of scarlet was the last thing he saw. Familiar yet no longer remembered.

The loner pushes it out of his thoughts. There's no need to remember. The void blissfully calls to him. Then... he remembered no more...


A step, and she stepped towards the white tangled mess. Desperately, the woman looks around, trying to find any signs of him... Any.

He's important to her, yet she will never admit it. A flash of white, a piece of his mask laying on the sand. She lunged towards it, throwing herself to the sand dune that contained the only trace of him left to her.

A piece of the horn of his mask. Rising in a curve, high and sharp. Ending gracefully to its peak. She close her hands around the base of it, the broken edge a throne in her conscience.

He's gone...


The man sat upon the throne, smirking before the Vaste Lordes kneeling in front of him. A shinigami in the Huedo Mundo sticking out like a sore thumb.

She kept her eyes respectfully lowered, yet her heart rebels in anger. She came for him. Because she sensed his reiatsu, because she saw a trace of the familiar emerald eyes. She will bow to this man for the white hollow that once left her.

For here he would be close.

Cuatro, Ulquiorra.

"Your number is zero." She nods, scarlet hair falling around her shoulders. Her ruby red eyes gleam in the shadows, brighter than stars. The woman radiated power, Aizen smirked. It didn't matter why she choose to pledge her loyalty, as long as she did.

The hate in her eyes is well concealed, hidden behind an emotionless front.

For him...