Disclaimer: I'm just going to say this for the entire fic: I don't own Bleach, its characters, storylines, or various licenses. I'm just some rando playing around in a rich guy's imaginary sandbox.
Notes: This fic is part of a larger AU. Some stuff will definitely not seem right if you haven't read the rest, but the short version is: Bleach minus Ichigo plus a consistent worldbuild. Also Karin, Yuzu and Uryū are shinigami. I swear it makes sense in context.
So... I'm actually thinking about upping the rating on this one. The violence will be mostly canon-typical, but... there will also be death. And things might get otherwise somewhat dark. I mean...Nnoitra and Szayelaporro exist, for one. If there's anything that I think seems especially potentially triggering, I'll warn on the specific chapter, but I have no way of knowing what will disturb other people—so please consider this a blanket content warning for violence, death, and creeps exhibiting extremely creepy behavior. Also language; Grimmjow and Kenpachi especially.
Catastrophe Theory
A Bleach Fanfic
Chaos Theory AU
Chapter One: Bad Moon Rising
I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin'.
I see those bad times today.
I hear hurricanes a blowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.
Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we're in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.
Don't come around tonight,
Well it's bound to take your life,
There's a bad moon on the rise.
-From 'Bad Moon Rising' by CCR
It smelled like rain.
The air was heavy with it—even the right clouds moved in, pushed forward by the kind of swift, whipping wind that preceded a massive storm. The same gusts picked her heavy hair up off her face and neck, tearing at it like a clumsy lover.
Yoruichi had little patience for those.
Tipping her head back, she contemplated the late evening sky, slowly turning the dark, oppressive grey of thunderheads. A loose fragment of plaster or something from the lot struck her in the cheek; the sting faded within half a second. Slowly, she uncoiled her senses, casting out over as much space as she could. Tessai's presence behind her in the shop was reassuring—but it was a certain conspicuous absence she felt most keenly.
"Man, I'm not really likin' this weather."
A shadow detached itself from the wall of the building next door; Yoruichi blinked slowly. Keeping her hands crossed over her chest, she shrugged.
"It rains a lot in this town."
"Yeah. We've noticed." Even over the rushing wind, the sound of his footsteps was distinct to her—he stopped a few feet away, facing in the opposite direction. When he turned his own eyes to the clouds, she supposed they must have made for a strange, mirrored image.
Knowing Shinji, it was probably on purpose.
"Anything yet?" she asked, pulling in a breath. It tasted like lightning.
"Not really. We'll keep patrollin' and all that. But you know what Aizen's like—it ain't gonna start until he wants it to."
The direction of the wind suddenly reversed; strands of hair swirled in her vision.
"Thanks," she said—she couldn't really bring any inflection to it, though. Her thoughts were too heavy just now.
"Eh. We owe you. Least we can do is keep an eye on things when that guy ain't around."
Yoruichi's grip on her arms tightened. "It will come to more than that," she warned.
She knew he knew that—but she didn't know how far he was willing to take this. Revealing themselves, possibly to the Gotei 13… that wasn't a move without risk. Not considering what they were, what they represented.
The sky flashed; still no rain fell. She hated this sense of waiting for things to happen. By someone's else's design, no less. Yoruichi had stopped waiting for other people a long time ago.
Well, anyone but him, anyway. But that was different.
"'Course it will," Shinji replied. "But we're not gonna do that part because we owe you." He paused; she heard the wry smile in his voice when he continued.
"We're gonna do that part for us."
There was something to be said, he thought, for thrones.
Of course, this was not the one he intended to sit eternally; but for now, it would do. The long table that accommodated his Espada stretched out in front of him; with but one more he would finally have the number he desired. For now, however, he would make do with these—there were pieces yet to be set in motion.
He was not so foolish as to believe that Kisuke Urahara's sudden disappearance into Hell meant he'd died. On the contrary—the longer that man spent there, the greater the chance that it would ultimately prove inconvenient. The solution, therefore, was rather obvious.
But of course, presenting a threat sufficient to lure the reclusive genius from his stint with the damned would require measures great enough to also draw the attention of Soul Society. Now that he was prepared for such, he could proceed as intended.
Sōsuke scanned the faces of those assembled; he would not send Gin or Kaname—they were better kept here, for the moment. After all, he wanted to provoke a response in stages. Let them thin themselves out by temperament, first. Such was the best move: he held the stronger cards, but their hand was—knowingly or not—stacked with the impossible.
He leaned his cheekbone onto his closed fist, the fingers of his other hand idly curling around the armrest of his throne. Once Baraggan's, of course—now significantly smaller. Sōsuke did derive a certain sense of satisfaction from ripping apart perception. Particularly the perception of power. A subtle smile curled his lips.
"That's bad news for someone, ain't it?"
Sōsuke's eyes slid to his right. Gin wore the same facial expression he always did—the farcical rictus grin of inborn sociopathy. Unlike himself, his subordinate had never felt the need to hide that particular trait. It made the things he did hide that much harder for the uninitiated to see. He'd even had Sōsuke fooled—even if not for nearly as long as he believed.
"On the contrary, Gin. I believe they will rather delight in this news."
He raised his voice only slightly to cut across the discussion below. "Ulquiorra. Yammy."
Everyone quieted immediately. They'd learned that much by this point, at least. The two Espada in question stood, fixing their attention upon him.
"I want you to take a… survey, for me." Sōsuke tapped his fist two fingers softly against the armrest of his throne. "Determine the number and power of the souls in the Jūreichi. If you encounter any resistance, eliminate it."
Ulquiorra bowed like the servile lapdog he was. Yammy abstained, but Sōsuke didn't mind. Gestures of obedience were empty—it was obedience itself that mattered. And he was the one on the throne. For now, obedience was a foregone conclusion.
"Yes, Aizen-sama."
"Does this mean we're finally gonna start?"
Ulquiorra's dead eyes narrowed slightly, flicking to the left. Grimmjow, however, paid him no mind. That wasn't unusual. The question itself was fair, so Sōsuke answered.
"Yes, Grimmjow. It begins."
Yoruichi knew the moment the garganta opened across town. She'd been just about to sit down for dinner with Tessai, Jinta, and Ururu when it flared an angry red in her senses—a raw wound in the bounds of reality, almost. Someone was connecting two worlds, and the other one wasn't Soul Society.
"Yoruichi." Tessai had sensed it too, of course.
She slapped her palms on her knees and stood. "Yeah." They had a better chance of making it there before anything bad happened than Shinji's people did. Gargantas were rare—it was seldom that even a Menos Grande acquired the ability to open one at will.
"Ururu, Jinta, go to the basement. Do not open the door for anyone but us," Tessai placed a hand on each of their backs and steered them out of the room. Jinta especially tended to be less likely to listen when Kisuke wasn't around; he seemed to understand the urgency of this situation, though, and grabbed Ururu's hand. They both disappeared behind the door to the basement stairwell, and Tessai pulled it closed, sealing it with kidō.
They exchanged a glance and a nod, then jumped into shunpō.
So this was the Jūreichi.
He supposed there was a decent amount of total spirit energy around—he'd heard that other parts of the living world were basically deserts by comparison. Still…
"Hey Ulquiorra! What about this one?"
Languidly, he moved his eyes to where Yammy was pointing, though truly he need not have bothered. It appeared as though one of the humans had barely survived the initial gonzui—but she was nearly catatonic regardless.
"If you had bothered to engage your senses, you would know that she is trash."
A slightly stronger one was headed in their direction. Perhaps they had been sharp enough to sense the disturbance. Clearly not perceptive enough to notice that they were horrendously outmatched, however. A mistake that would doubtless be made apparent soon.
"How boring," Yammy said, oblivious to the change in their surroundings.
Ulquiorra did not bother to enlighten him.
"Bye then!" Drawing one foot back, Yammy made to end the human's worthless life in a single kick.
Ulquiorra was unsurprised when the heavy thud followed—without the snuffing of a life that Yammy was so clearly expecting. The impact was enough to kick up a cloud of grass and wet earth, but when it cleared, another human stood between Yammy and his would-be victim.
This one, Ulquiorra detected, had reiatsu that was not completely dissimilar to their own, if much, much weaker. He was large, for one of his kind, and darkly-complected.
"Huh? Who the hell are you?" Yammy, as usual, caught on slowly.
The human didn't respond, opening and closing his fist a few times. He had some variety of armor plating on it. To Ulquiorra's senses, it was vaguely similar to hierro—to withstand a blow from Yammy, it must have also possessed like properties. At least to a point.
"Ulquiorra!"
If he had been the type to sigh, he would have had to work to resist the urge. As it was, he simply blinked, hands still in his pockets. This would have proceeded much more quickly if Aizen-sama had simply sent him alone.
"No, Yammy. He is also trash."
"Okay then!" Yammy bent his knees and struck with an open palm.
The hit landed exactly on the human man's arm. Ulquiorra could hear the tendons rip and tear, along with the distinct wet snapping of breaking bone. Certainly a weak hierro, then. The human's skin tore open in several places, unable to withstand the reiatsu Yammy had infused into the hit. A fine red mist hissed from the wounds under the spiritual pressure, and the human crumpled to his knees.
That he was still conscious actually counted as impressive, for such a weak creature. Or perhaps Yammy was simply careless and failed to finish him with a single blow.
Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed—there were more incoming. But these… these were different.
"Yammy."
But the other Espada, unsurprisingly, was not listening. Instead, he drew back for another blow.
He was not nearly fast enough—nor were his senses good enough—to properly anticipate the intercession. Yammy's arm was met midair by someone else's; a dark hand wrapped around his much larger wrist, stopping it cold in the air.
"Tessai!"
The voice belonged to a woman—she matched a description Aizen-sama had given him. It would seem that they had drawn attention at last.
"Bakudō #79: Kuyō Shibari!"
The woman's companion surrounded Yammy with eight points of black energy. Before he could so much as react, a ninth appeared right over his chest—he was frozen in place.
Ulquiorra knew these: they were the cohorts of Kisuke Urahara. It was unfortunate that it was they who had made an appearance—engaging them would cause destruction on a scale Aizen-sama preferred to avoid at this particular point in time. Add to that…
His eyes slid to Yammy; he was still trying to free himself from the spell. Unfortunately, he was quite unable to do so, and the woman was making short work of him; a punch to the stomach and kick to the head like that probably would have dropped him to his knees if he could move.
She lunged to strike again—Ulquiorra knew he couldn't leave things any longer. Moving in front of Yammy, he caught the woman's foot in his hand. The sting against his hierro was only somewhat surprising. This was Yoruichi Shihōin, after all. Tightening his grip, Ulquiorra shoved her backwards with reiatsu, letting go in just enough time to send her flying. She landed without difficulty, but he had the time he needed.
Drawing his sword, he slashed through the black circle hovering over Yammy's chest, freeing him from the kidō and returning the blade to its scabbard in a single motion. The fool was fortunate that the other—Tessai Tsukabishi—was too busy healing the humans to join the engagement.
"Yammy. It is time to go." He summoned a garganta behind them, feeling the familiar essence of Hueco Mundo seep through the opening. He would never describe it as being like fresh air, but it was at least dense enough in reishi that it didn't feel so… hollow.
"Are you kidding? We've gotta finish this fight, Ulquiorra!"
Ulquiorra's expression didn't change—nor, for that matter, did his mood. All the same… there was no denying that Yammy at times was like a particularly slow child. "Don't be an idiot. That is Yoruichi Shihōin and Tessai Tsukabishi. At your current level, you would die trying."
The garganta yawned wider; Yammy grudgingly made for it. Ulquiorra permitted him to step inside first, not taking his eyes from the two former shinigami.
The woman was frowning deeply, her brows knit tightly. "So you're just running away?"
"Do not overestimate yourself, either," he told her tonelessly. "Do you think you would so easily defeat us, with those humans to protect?"
She must have seen the wisdom in letting them go, for she made no attempt to pursue. Behind Yammy, Ulquiorra stepped into the garganta, allowing it to close behind him. They had what they needed, anyway—Aizen-sama had asked for a reckoning of the spiritual energy present in the Jūreichi.
He would have it.
It was late afternoon when the captain returned to their office.
Rukia was still busy catching up on a backlog of paperwork—there were a lot of things that had gone undone or wrongly-assigned during the period where the Thirteenth had no vice-captain. Trying to get all of that sorted from what should be the third seats' and captain's duties was a bit of a stop-and-go process. She could probably just go ask Ise-san exactly what she was supposed to be doing and what she wasn't, but the Eighth was only just giving the last of the Fifth's duties back to Hinamori—so they were pretty busy.
The door to the hallway slid open; Rukia glanced up, offering the captain a half-smile. "Ukitake-taichō. How was your appointment?"
He stepped into the captain's side of the divided room—the doors between the sections had remained open since they were unsealed two months ago. Rukia appreciated that; with so many new duties to get used to, she found herself with a lot of questions. It wasn't often someone went from unseated to second seat in one jump, after all. At least most other new vice-captains had experience as officers of some kind.
"Smoother than usual," he replied; his tone was pleasant as ever.
Really, if he weren't a generally honest person, she would have never been able to tell if he were being truthful or not—he wasn't really the type to let on when things were bad.
"Glad to hear it." Rukia turned back to his paper work, aware of him crossing the room to settle in at his own desk. The window to her left bathed the room in deep yellow light—the sun began to set over the Seireitei. Unfortunately, it would probably be a while yet before she'd done enough work to justify leaving for the day. Maybe she should think about sending down to the mess for something for both of them to eat…
Shaking her head slightly, Rukia went back to writing. For a while, the office was quiet except for the sound of brushes on parchment—with the occasional pause as Ukitake stopped to drink a mouthful of tea. She could feel the muscles in her back starting to get stiff; shifting, Rukia rolled her shoulders, rubbing the knot forming at the nape of her neck.
A soft ping caught her attention. Furrowing her brows, she raised her eyes, looking for the source of the noise. It chimed again; the captain started lifting stacks of paper and putting them aside, clearly in search of something.
"Sir…?"
"Ah, here it is." From a drawer in the desk, he removed a small, flattened circular object.
He set it down in front of him on the desk—Rukia blinked when a sheet of light projected upwards from it, forming into a flat, translucent screen. She could see shapes moving on the other side, like shadows, but it was impossible to make them out. At least until someone spoke.
"Ukitake-san."
Though the voice was tinny, Rukia recognized it immediately. Her eyes widened; her captain caught her eye over the projection and beckoned her forward with a gesture. Moving around to the same side as him, she peered over his shoulder at the front side of the screen.
Sure enough, there sat the image of Yoruichi Shihōin. Her entire right arm was covered in bandages. To her left was Tessai, looking solemn but unhurt.
"Hello, Yoruichi-san. I must admit, this is unexpected. I haven't heard from you in nearly six months now." Ukitake spoke with ease, like it was perfectly normal for exiles from the Soul Society to still be on communication basis with captains.
Then again… at this point, Rukia knew it was—at least in a few cases.
Yoruichi's eyes moved momentarily from him to Rukia, but she didn't offer comment on the extra presence. "Yeah, well… up until now, there hasn't been much to talk about."
"Something's changed?" Ukitake's posture shifted; he drew himself up straighter in his seat.
She nodded. "Earlier today, two Arrancar came through a garganta into Karakura Town." On the screen, Yoruichi flexed her bandaged hand. "Tessai and I drove them off, but not before they'd killed nearly twenty humans. Only a couple of them in the area managed to survive."
"Arrancar?" Rukia asked aloud, shifting her eyes between Yoruichi and her captain.
Ukitake dipped his chin. "A Hollow that has torn off its mask and gained shinigami power," he said, dark brows knitting. "But I hadn't heard of the existence of any complete Arrancar—those Hollows who had come the closest in the past were unable to complete the transition."
Yoruichi shook her head slowly. "These two were complete. Aizen's doing, no doubt."
Ukitake frowned. "So you believe he is in Hueco Mundo, then?"
Rukia supposed that made sense, since he'd been whisked away by a garganta five years ago—but it was also a problem. Shinigami couldn't create the gates to that realm; there was no way to reach Hueco Mundo. At least… not that she knew of.
"Almost certainly." Yoruichi paused. "Ukitake-san. I need you to inform the rest of the Gotei 13 of what's going on. These Arrancar… they're much stronger than we anticipated. Even those of us who are here are going to need backup in case of more incursions. I don't know what he's planning—but my best guess is that we'll be seeing these guys again really soon."
"I understand," Ukitake said. "I'll get a message to the Sōtaichō right away; I don't know who he'll want to send in an advance guard, but there should be someone there within the next day or so."
Rukia pursed her lips; an uncomfortable feeling clenched in her stomach like a vise. "We were supposed to have another five years," she murmured. All the training that could have come between now and then… all the preparation. The feeling built towards her throat, threatening to choke her.
"I know," Yoruichi replied; her expression was stonier than Rukia had ever seen it. "But we don't."
"Go ahead, Ulquiorra. Show us what you saw and felt, in the living world."
"As you wish."
The Cuarta Espada reached up towards his own face. Without so much as a moment of hesitation, he gripped his own eyeball and tore it out with a wet squelch. Such a grisly ability, really; Sōsuke regarded the whole affair with a subdued amusement. Once Ulquiorra had crushed the organ in his fist, the reishi particles it comprised scattered.
The others present breathed deeply, pulling in the energy and the information contained within it. Of most interest to Sōsuke was the count and feel of the worthwhile reiatsu signatures in the area. Ulquiorra's pesquisa was the best of his fellows'. Consequently, the data were precise. He knew, therefore, that it was no accident or camouflage when he did not find the one he was looking for.
Sōsuke's smile faded, but he did not permit himself to frown.
"Heh. You weak little shits." Grimmjow quite obviously found fault with how his fellow Espada had handled the situation.
"What did you say?!" Yammy demanded.
From where he sat, back bowed and legs crossed, the other Espada smiled savagely. "I said: you're a weak little shit. Both of you. Can't even kill a couple of ex-shinigami—with direct orders, no less!"
"Please: do explain, Ulquiorra." Sōsuke already knew what the answer would be, but that wasn't the point.
With one eye and one empty socket where an eye had been, Ulquiorra fixed his attention on the throne, ignoring Grimmjow with customary precision. "We were given two objectives: the primary one was to gather information. The second was to eliminate resistance. Presented with a situation where performing a secondary function would interfere with the efficiency of the primary one, I chose not to."
"More like you ran away because you were fuckin' scared."
Yammy took a step towards Grimmjow; the latter was quickly in a crouch, all hint of lackadaisical posture gone.
"Enough." Ulquiorra barred Yammy from further escalation by physically retraining him—one hand just barely made contact with Yammy's elbow.
It was enough to halt the much larger Espada in his tracks. Really—they were more entertaining to watch even than the Gotei 13, at times. Sōsuke crossed one leg over the other, leaning his head on his hand.
"Apart from what your brothers might say," he said, quelling Grimmjow's rejoinder with a look, "I am rather impressed by your work, Ulquiorra."
His subordinate bowed immediately, crossing an arm in front of his waist and inclining himself with grace. "I am very grateful, Aizen-sama."
Sōsuke blinked slowly, pulling in a slow, relaxed breath. "Espada. Prepare yourselves and your Fracciónes for battle. It will not be long now." There were but a few more pieces to move into their places; then at long last, the board would be set for one final match.
He was looking forward to it.
Tōshirō stood stock-still at attention, drawing himself up as tall as possible. Of course, standing in between Kyōraku and Kurotsuchi made that a bit of a moot point; he did it anyway. Resisting the urge to cross his arms was harder, but he kept them at his sides like everyone else did. In the past, he'd spent this part of the meeting looking at the wall past Zaraki's elbow, but that side of the room was missing three people; it left him an unobstructed view of the other side of the chamber.
Sometimes, vice-captains would stand in for the missing captains, but this meeting had been called specifically only for the captains themselves. No one else was permitted to attend.
Yamamoto entered the hall from the door at the far end, striding past the assembled division leaders and planting himself at the head of the mismatched lines, as usual. At the heavy thud of his staff on the ground, all chatter ceased, and everyone's attention moved immediately towards him.
"The meeting will commence," he said sharply. There was a momentary pause. "There is grave news from the world of the living. Jūshirō, tell the others what you have heard."
An audible rustle filled the room as the people in it shifted to fix their eyes on the captain of the Thirteenth.
He didn't waste time.
"Complete Arrancar have been sighted in the world of the living. Two of them. There is good reason to believe that they are commanded by Sōsuke Aizen—and that he has discovered some way to awaken the Hōgyoku."
"Already?" Komamura asked. Since he didn't have the helmet on, it wasn't difficult to understand him for once.
Ukitake inclined his head. "Unfortunately so. There's no way of telling how long it has been awakened for, but it's likely that he's using it to create the complete Arrancar in the first place."
The room took this news in troubled silence; Tōshirō had to admit it was about as bad as news could get at this point. "How strong are these completed Arrancar?" he asked; he kept his expression impassive.
Ukitake grimaced. "At least one of the two that were sent to the living world is likely stronger than a Vasto Lorde."
"That's impossible," Komamura protested. "There's no way—"
"What's impossible about it?" Kurotsuchi asked the question snidely. "If a Vasto Lorde-class Hollow were transformed into an Arrancar, it would become stronger than it was before. So there is, by definition, the very possibility you deny."
Everyone took a few moments to digest that. Tōshirō thought it was all well and good to be matter-of-fact about it, but he wondered if anyone else had yet grasped the implications. One Vasto Lorde was stronger than most of the people in this room. Not all of them, but most. If Aizen had managed to assemble even a few of them…
His fists clenched at his sides.
"We must send an advance guard to the Jūreichi," Yamamoto pronounced. "Given the apparent strength of the enemy, this group must contain two captains. Beyond that, at least two vice-captains with demonstrated talent for combat must go as well. Zaraki, Hitsugaya."
Tōshirō stiffened. "Sir."
"The two of you will lead the advance party. Take Matsumoto, Abarai, and at least one other officer of vice-captain level with you." There was only a beat of silence before he amended. "Other than Kusajishi."
"Yes sir."
"You are to rendezvous with Yoruichi Shihōin. You are not required to obey her orders, but I strongly advise you take advantage of what she already knows. I expect regular reports on the situation as it develops. The rest of you are to prepare your divisions for war."
With the echoing slam of wood on wood, the meeting adjourned.
Three heavy thuds on Karin's door woke her in the middle of the night.
"Hey, Kurosaki. Marching orders."
Karin rolled out of bed much faster than she usually managed in the morning, scrambling to open her door. Renji, already geared up, stood on the other side, arms folded into his sleeves. "We've got living world duty, if you're up for it."
"What?" She blinked at him, sleep-fogged brain still not quite caught up.
He rolled his eyes at her. "The Sōtaichō's ordered an advance team to the living world. No one else cared who the last member of the team was, so I said I'd pick. You wanna go or not?"
"But… why are we sending an advance team?" Logic caught up with her at that exact moment. "What happened over there?"
"Arrancar," he said, as though the single word should answer all her questions.
It didn't, but Karin figured there would be time for them on the way. Sliding the door shut in Renji's face, she threw open her closet and pulled down the first shihakushō she saw, throwing it on the futon and shucking her sleep shirt at the same time.
"Do I get a minute to tell Yuzu and Uryū, or what?" Shrugging partway into her shitagi, she remembered the likely state of her hair and half-flashed, half-tripped to her bathroom. Turning the light on and wincing when it nearly blinded her, Karin fumbled around in her drawers until her fingers found the familiar handle of her brush.
She could still hear Renji on the other side of the door, thankfully. "You can leave messages for 'em with the Jigokuchō, but this is a right now kind of thing," he said.
"Right; got it." Raking the brush through her hair a few times, Karin grimaced. Close enough. Throwing the whole thing up into a hasty tail, she hurried back to the futon; pulling on the rest of her uniform in the dark wasn't really that hard. Her hands knew what to do even if her eyes weren't any help.
She kept a small satchel of necessary supplies at the bottom of her closet, packed and ready to go. Grabbing it by the handles, she slung it over her shoulder and pulled the door back open.
"I'm good—let's go."
Term Dictionary:
Jūreichi – 重霊地 – "Important Spirit Ground." The place needed to forge an Ōken, along with 100,000 souls. In both canon and this AU, it's Karakura Town.
Gonzui – 魂吸 – "Soul Inhalation." An Arrancar technique whereby the practitioner inhales a large quantity of air, forcing the souls of nearby bodies to detach and be drawn into the mouth. Beings with reiryoku above that of an ordinary human may resist the technique, intentionally or not—as Tatsuki does in this chapter.
Hierro – 鋼皮 – The kanji are for "steel skin." The pronunciation given is (vaguely like) the Spanish word for "iron." Refers to the Arrancar's damage-resistant skin, the strength of which varies between them much like strength or speed do.
Kuyō Shibari – 九曜縛 – "Nine Sunlight Traps." Bakudō #79. Creates eight "black holes" which emit spiritual energy in the space surrounding the target; the ninth black hole manifests itself in the center of the target's chest. Meant to immobilize.
Pesquisa – 探査回路 – The kanji mean "probe circuit." The reading given corresponds to the Spanish word for "inquest." This is the measure of an Arrancar's ability to detect the location and power of reiatsu signatures, even at distance. Ulquiorra's is much better than Yammy's, obviously.
Fracción – 従属官 – The kanji are "subordinate officers." The Spanish is just for "fraction," which is either a poor choice when Kubo probably meant faction, or else a pun on the fact that all of them have numbers. (Numbers "divided up" are fractions, har har.)
Anyway, there's chapter one of the Winter War fic. There's so many events to cover in this one that—unlike usual—I have literally no idea how many chapters there will be. If I had to take a wild guess, I'd say maybe 15-20? I'm cutting a lot for, well… format and manageable cast size, I guess. But I'm also going to be adding things, so eh. We'll see.
Pretty much anyone is open game for POV here, but if there's anyone in particular you want me to write as, I'm down for suggestions. Also happy to get critique re: characterizations. We don't get a lot on most people, especially the Arrancar/Espada and the Visored, so I do expect to have to extrapolate some. If you think I go off track, feedback would be appreciated.
Also, technically Ulquiorra is the "cuatro" Espada, while I have it written here as "cuarta." That's because cuatro just means "four" while cuarto/a means "fourth," and typing "four espada," even in a language I don't really know, would be physically painful. And to agree with 'espada,' which is a feminine noun, it should be 'cuarta,' not 'cuarto,' since I'm pretty sure it should change according to grammatical subject and not the gender of the person actually being referenced. (See: primera and sexa).