The feeling of a trigger never seemed to change. Whether you were a soldier or a Shinigami didn't matter worth a damn; that cold sliver of metal always felt too thin to be holding back so much death.
It was like sealing back a waterfall with a napkin.
Utsuro's finger was begging to twitch, to just puncture that tiny wall and let loose the flood. He felt the weight of the world resting on a frail little joint that was never meant to have that kind of power. But his years of training as a sniper kept the bones rigid. And now, with his breath trailing white into the cold, wet air of Tokyo proper, the Captain made use of his experience to remain focused.
He had scouted the location, himself; tall shadows and cardboard boxes stacked high into the run-down alleyway hid the ivory sheen of his Bankai. His own temperance masked its power, which licked at the underside of his skin, begging for a window from which to escape, scratching at his soul, overflowing the rims of his inner world. But he remained stoic, his mind on the operation at hand.
"Report, Aiko," he whispered to the stone walls. They were stained with an off-cream mold from the recent downpour.
Utsuro could feel the tight thumping in his chest. He could taste the chill of mint as his breath trailed over his teeth and between his lips. He could see the vivid image of the nighttime streets that rested on the other side of his barrel, lit up by intermittent street-lamps and neon signs. The low humming of his weapon as it anchored itself to the ground; the skittering of rats between one dumpster and the next; the cars and pedestrian traffic just a few buildings over; it was all a blur of sensation that trickled into his ears, waiting to get sorted.
A voice echoed back through his earpiece, cutting through the mental focus that armored his mind so thickly: feminine, but deep and luxurious. It was a woman's timbre, and each word trembled with a hollow echo in the chilled night air.
"The lines are set, Captain. No sign of the target. Awaiting contact."
These words seemed to drive something home.
Powerful, bleach-white eyes stared into the open streets ahead. They hid under a similarly shaded tuft of hair set at the front of a black short-cropped cut.
A twinkling dance of lights blinked between the windows and power-lines like a shower of stars fluttering in their fall to Earth, or the first flurries of a snowstorm. It was a sign that his Lieutenant, Shibuutsika Aiko, had released her Shikai. The streets were no longer safe.
The pair had taken this into account during the planning stages, and the Human element was removed from danger. A complicated Kidō web had been constructed around the few blocks where the operation was taking place. It cloaked it from Human perception and removed it from their memories, making it impossible for anyone to wander into the kill-zone. The temporarily homeless people who couldn't recall where they lived were a curious side-effect. They would regain their cognition within a few hours and be none-the-wiser.
Utsuro made a mental note to thank Captain Yorushi for his help when he returned to Soul Society.
But at the moment there were more pressing concerns. The trap was set. Weeks of reconnaissance and days of preparation work were about to pay off, and the tension in the air made it clear that even the atmosphere was anxiously watching to see what was about to happen.
It didn't have to wait long.
At 2:17 AM a Garganta began to open at the end of the long street that stretched out in front of Captain Kirinonai. The crack between dimensions echoed with a metallic, grating sort of sound that you could feel in the bottom half of your molars. And as many times as he had heard it before, Utsuro couldn't help but feel that same wave of adrenalin rush over him. He managed to keep it under control thanks to his training.
From within the fissure of infinite blackness that now rested a few meters off of the ground, dozens of shuffling figures came into view. Their white masks were illuminated by the street-lamps. Their humanoid bodies-some of them over fifteen feet tall-came in shapes and sizes that were difficult to understand. But that was the way of the Hollow. Who knew what their horrid forms were capable of.
They plodded out from the Garganta in pairs of two, for the opening wasn't large enough to spit them out all at once. The garbage that littered the once busy street was crushed and broken beneath their heavy feet, hooves, and other odd appendages as they began to move forward, leaving room for more of their kind to enter into the world of the living.
After a few minutes, twenty of these Hollow stood at the end of the barren city street. Most were unimpressive specimens-transformed Human souls with no real power behind them. They had the most irregular shapes, with hulking shoulders, distended arms, and bestial masks with lipless, toothy grins. Then there were the two Adjuchas-class Menos that walked out from the blackness. These were foreboding creatures. They stood upright with humanoid poise and authority, having consumed hundreds, perhaps thousands of other Hollow to get their powers to their current level. Their steps were lighter, more trained. They knew that they were the strongest things in the city-or at least they thought as much.
But it didn't matter whether they were aware that a Captain and his Lieutenant had learned of their plans to invade and hunt for Human souls. It didn't even matter that a trap had been set to stop them. Left alone, the Hollow would have had enough power to level half of the city. And that confidence that was plastered across their bony masks was completely deserved because of it.
The only way to stop such powerful Hollow without causing collateral damage was to take them out without them knowing what was going on. That was Utsuro and Aiko's specialty. And even though this type of operation would normally fall under Captain Gingitsune's jurisdiction, they were given full control to limit the Human casualties in place of open combat.
The self-assured tone continued as the Hollow began to make their way down the street towards Utsuro, who was still completely cloaked in the darkness of his alley. He felt the delicate trigger of his Bankai caress the inside of his finger. It pleaded with him, begging him to let loose the power that was boiling within the shell of his Zanpakutō.
For a moment he found himself making a calculation, determining that he could hit nine of the twenty in one shot.
But no. Utsuro quickly sealed that thought away in his head, knowing that it was trivial. Aiko had already released her Shikai. He had no need to interfere at this point.
It wasn't twenty meters before the Hollow began to look up at the dancing lights and fluttering tufts of snow that drifted above their heads. One reached up to touch one of them, presumably because snow was a foreign concept in Hueco Mundo. What that Hollow found as its hand palmed the white glimmer was a spurt of its blue blood and a bolt of agonizing pain.
Thousands of impossibly thin strands of razor-wire were draped across the street, wrapped delicately around light poles, between street signs, and under parked cars. Their width was so thin that they appeared only in the right beams of light. And even then all one could see was a shimmering white reflection. The sheer number of wires and the changing sources of illumination were what made it look like drifting snow.
It was Shibuutsika Aiko's Shikai, Hisou Tameiki.
The group of Hollow realized what was happening far too late to stop it. The 6th Division Lieutenant, who had been perched atop a nearby building, slashed her Zanpakutō in an upward, diagonal motion, pulling thousands of wires that had been carefully placed towards the targets. It seemed as if a wave of snow and dancing lights was rushing to consume them. And it did just that.
The Hollow at the head of the pack, including the curious one who had cut himself just a few moments earlier, were obliterated in an instant. Their bodies were cut so finely that they simply dispersed into energy. The others attempted to flee to safety. Only one of them succeeded-one of the two Adjuchas-class Menos-by dashing into the Garganta at the last possible moment. The other one was cut into pieces with the rest of the group, although not quite as cleanly thanks to his stronger Hierro.
The entire process took less than three seconds, from the first touch of that piece of 'snow' to the death rattle of an Adjuchas. Only Utsuro was able to see exactly what happened. Only his eyes were strong enough to pierce past the 'snow'.
It was then that Utsuro felt a wave of power sweep back towards him, rustling the wires that were still strung up across the empty street. It was beyond the power of any Adjuchas. It was the Reiatsu of an Arrancar-the final evolution of the Hollow race. It was the reason that he had released his Bankai and had aimed his barrel straight towards the entry point. It was also something that no one else had expected from the information brought back from Hueco Mundo. It was only Utsuro's instinct that allowed him to predict that such a formidable force was behind this attack on the Human world.
This one took the appearance of a muscular man, maybe thirty years of Human age. His mask fragments covered all of his mouth with a toothy, disturbing frown, and continued down his neck in a blocky plate. His Hollow-hole was open in the middle of his shirt-less chest.
In the Arrancar's left hand was the ankle of the Adjuchas that managed to escape Aiko's Shikai. The survivor was clawing at the ground, struggling against a power that was far beyond his scope, pleading for his life to the deafest ears that Utsuro had ever seen. And then, without even the smallest expression of thought or emotion, the Arrancar threw his comrade across the street and into the mess of wires that still dangled like a web of snow. There was nothing left of his body after twenty meters.
He then began to walk forward. As Aiko's wires made contact with his bare skin, Utsuro noticed no damage. His Hierro was simply too powerful for a Lieutenant to cut, and her element of surprise had withered away.
It was the only thing that had been protecting her. And it was gone.
Although she had masked her Reiatsu in a way that would have made even the 2nd Division proud, the thousands of wires still trailed right back to the tip of her katana. The Arrancar seemed to understand this concept. He grabbed hold of a group of wires that dangled down from a nearby awning, guessing where they were from the lights and the gashes in the fabric above him.
And then his eyes widened.
A beam of white energy buried itself into his chest from down the street. On the other end of it was the smoking barrel of Utsuro's Bankai and a trigger finger that was finally satisfied. The Captain had waited for the perfect moment for his abilities to become useful to their full effect.
The Arrancar seemed confused for a moment. The energy had certainly hit him, but there was no wound. At least... not on his chest. A trickle of blood seeped from the hand where he had been holding the group of wires. They had cut clean into his fingers.
As quickly as the Hollow realized what had happened, Aiko pulled on her sword from atop the building. With all of his spiritual power obliterated by Utsuro's attack, there was no Hierro to save him, and the Arrancar found himself shredded as a whirlwind of dancing lights sliced him apart from every direction.
With that, the Garganta closed.
Utsuro took no time in sealing his weapon away, as did Aiko, who jumped from the top of the building to land gracefully in the center of the street. Her Geisha appearance only lent more credibility to her fluid movements and serene attitude.
The spell that had been cast over the street would release in less than two hours, which gave the 4th Division a very short amount of time to clean up the blood and repair the damage that had been caused to the area. Until all of that was done, the pair would keep watch in case any other Garganta opened, as doubtful as that was.
Utsuro pressed a finger against his ear, reporting back to Soul Society.
"The operation was a success."