"Lanzador…Verde." Her voice was blank, emotionless. There was this look to her eyes, one that Nnoitra hadn't seen before. Not even when he had betrayed her all those years back. It was a distraction. He could barely raise Santa Teresa before the thundering lance impacted it, sending him hurtling into the air, crashing against the rocks of Hueco Mundo's expansive desert.
It hurt, but it didn't draw blood. She still didn't want to kill him, even after what he had done. It was offensive. He raised his voice to curse her, but the tip of her weapon was already at his neck. She didn't say a word, then or now, she merely raised it over her head, the metal passing over the glinting sun, her expression as dull as when she first threw the projectile.
The Fifth Espada closed his eyes. Let it be the day she goes through with it. It was a dark, and for one blissful moment, he thought the wistful sound in the air was her blade diving towards his throat. It stopped just when the surface pressed against his skin, a thin trail of blood dripping down.
"Leave, Nnoitra." She said, a sorrowful note to her voice." I don't want to see you in Las Noches when we come for Aizen."
He felt his eye twitch. Still she denied him. Need he kill the boy for her to go through with it. No, time had passed, he wouldn't fall this time. Not again, not after he'd scarred her, broken her over the walls of Aizen's marble palace and thrown her to the hollows bellow.
"Don't look down on me." He mouthed, a cruel edge to his tone." Not this time, don't look down on me again. Don't you dare…"
His own weapon soared through the air, repelling the lance, and a psychotic grin crossed his lips. He'd kill her. He'd spared her then over the battlements, not this time.
She looked more exasperated than defensive then, even as the twin sickles flew for her head time after time. Her defense was flawless, a sigh leaving her mouth as she jumped over him, one of the hoofs making up her lower body crashing against Nnoitra's shoulder.
It was painful, but he enjoyed it. Pain was what combat was all about, pain and death. And yet, with every blow, he knew he couldn't match her, not like this. She was faster than him, her leaps allowing her to avoid every blow he could muster. With a decidedly sloppy step, he disappeared from sight, crumpling against the towering red pillars of Las Noches.
Neliel was a step ahead. She always was. But this time he was ready for her. The lance pushed through his side, the sensation agonizing as it bore through his flesh, coating it a glimmering crimson.
He weaved slightly to the side, the pain making itself evident when he retaliated, the blade biting into the former Tercera's cheek. He had never made her bleed before. It was exhilarating, his joy was short-lived though.
Nnoitra could barely move, clutching his side, feeling the warm blood pouring over his palm. Neliel hesitated before she dived and that gave him ample time to make sure her next strike only glanced his arm. Fast running out of breath, Nnoitra once again relented to using Sonido.
He reappeared right in front of the three, glaring at them with contempt. There was Grimmjow, the Sexta slowly dying before Nnoitra's very eyes. He looked up at him, but there was no hatred there, not even fear. Just betrayal.
The young man that had put up such a laughable fight, looking on in shock as the two Espada fought. He was the worst of the lot, still seeming intent even as he layed against the cold rock, the woman of his lying over him. The child payed her no heed, he had eyes only for Neliel.
The girl, Ulquiorra's pet, looked over him, concerned, the faint sheen of orange glowing over his wounds as she mumbled incoherently to herself. Of the three, she should remain alive, else Aizen would have his head. But the other two…
"Tesla!" he shrieked. "Get over here. We don't need the whining little bitch or the sixth. Kill them both."
"S-sir…what about you?" came the worried reply.
"I'm not going to lose, not this time. Now don't question and carry out your damn orders!" Nnoitra yelled, barely in time to repel another charge, the attack sending his blade digging into the sand for balance.
The blonde boy adjusted his eye patch, worn out of reverence rather than necessity and gave a sharp nod in his superior's direction. The Fraccion drew his own Zanpakuto and spun it in his palm, glaring at the three survivors." Gore them, Verruga." He stated simply, his figure sharply shifting, the token of affection for the Espada slipping off of his brow as he assumed his true form, the sands below shaking to accommodate the newest combatant, a hulking man with the face of a boar.
Showing speed uncharacteristic relative to his size, Tesla propelled himself over the two battling Espada and landed next to the two humans, his hoof crashing past the girl's shield and forcing the boy to slide to the side to avoid death.
"Ichigo!" Neliel's concern was disheartening, but it took up precious seconds of her attention. While she looked away to make sure the boy was safe, Santa Teresa struck her chest, drawing a shocked gasp from the former Espada. Her Hierro had never been strong enough for her rank and it was obvious now. She lifted herself to her hindlegs, hand pressed against the wound…and promptly disappeared.
"Shit…" he muttered, just as her lance marred his hand, Nnoiora's weapon slipping into the sand, just as droplets of blood coloured it a light red. Was he still incapable of following her movements?
"No…not this time. Not this time." He repeated it to himself, as if it were a chant, and unbeknownst to his foe, tugged at the chain, pulling it back into his aching palm and kicking his opponent aside, allowing him the moment to raise his weapon to the skies, the sun captured between the twin blades.
"Pray, Santa Teresa!" Nnoitra yelled, and it was though time stopped. The world was clad in bright yellow, Aizen's false sun channeled through that gap in his Zanpakuto. The light enveloped him, and for a brief moment, the Quinta was freed of doubts, of restraints.
It was short-lived however. His wounds were sealed before his eye, a scar much like Grimmjow's now adorning his side were Neliel's lance had struck. The trappings imposed upon him by his superior had also been stripped aside, the Arrancar clad only in what he himself had seen fit, his arms no longer like straws, but sinewy constructs of bone and marrow. Six, not two.
He could barely draw his first breath in his released state before Neliel lunged once more. This time however he did not raise his blade, he didn't dodge nor even react. He let her lance strike his bare chest, the weapon barely digging more than an inch deep.
"Is that all?" Nnoitra grinned, peering at her face. He saw uncertainty cloud her features for the first time. The tip of her weapon twitched but try as she might, she could not cut him any further." No? Too bad."
Without giving her the time to even pull the lance from his flesh, the four scythes held in four of his arms were swung, two cutting her legs open, two more biting into her torso and sword-arm. Momentarily showing his other two arms he pushed her aside, Neliel falling into the sand, bleeding profusely.
"It's over. You can not hurt me. Not anymore, never again. Look at yourself, Neliel. You have fallen so far since we first cast you away. The gap between our strength is too large." He began. Never one for pompous speeches, but it came so naturally. He was finally better than her. Nnoitra stepped forward almost leisurely to approach her prone form, spinning the four scythes in tandem.
"Lift your sword. Come on. Fight at least before I kill you." She did not move, not even to reach for her lance. Without hesitating, his foot crashed into her side. "Fight, damn you!" He screamed.
"Nel!" Ichigo reacted, lifting himself to his feet just before Tesla's fist was narrowly deflected by the girl's shield. Neliel lifted herself to protect him and Nnoitra replied almost instantly, the scythes diving for her head. This could be the killing blow, and yet, when they reached her neck, he hesitated for a split-second. Why?
The former Tercera wasted no time in ducking out of the way, lifting her lance and disappearing from sight. He thought he saw a thankful glint in her eye when she did.
"Grantz?" Nnoitra kicked the gate aside, taking a step inside his former quarters. Much had changed in the Espada's absence. The once blank walls and conservative furniture had been replaced with shimmering banners presenting Szayel Apporo's glory. Numerous desks, lined with vats, cauldrons and vials were everywhere, with numerous indinstict crates carried from end to end by Grantz's minions. They barely looked at Nnoitra, too busy with their tasks.
At the very center, sitting on a decorative throne, sat the eight Espada, wearing a triumphant smirk on his lips. His uniform had been separated, his uniform unbuttoned to show his chest, marked by a giant tattooed eight, his new rank among Aizen's chosen.
"Ah, Nnoitra, come right in. It's been a pleasure working with you, please, make yourself at home."
He snapped his fingers, and a chair lifted itself just beside Szayel's throne, padded with white fur, much like the Octava's seat.
The now Fifth Espada stepped, opting to simply stand before Grantz, hand on the grip of Santa Teresa.
"I took a few liberties with the decorum. To accommodate me, of course. I swear, you really have awful taste, Nnoitra." He licked his lips, putting emphasis on the Espada's name, even as his hand slid down to trace the new tattoo lovingly.
"Any news about…-"
"Oh, so this is about Neliel. How droll. I thought you were visiting out of kindness." Szayel feigned sadness, pressing his palm against his forehead and looking down, as if mourning.
"Stop your fucking games and listen to me, Grantz! Has there been any trace of her or her Fracciones?" Nnoitra yelled. Why was he always so casual?
"None, sadly. Then again, this wouldn't be an issue if you hadn't hesitated, would it? If you had just struck down the girl and her pets." Szayel lied back against his seat, keeping the smug smile.
"If I just go around killing weaklings, no one will ever see I'm the strongest." Nnoitra replied defensively.
The Octava slid out of his chair, his movements clear, yet still too fast for Nnoitra to really react. The pink-haired Arrancar pushed a lock of hair from the Espada's gaze and gave a sultry smile.
"Is this about your pride, Nnoitra? I thought you discarded that when you asked for my help. Can't exactly worry about it now, can you?" He snickered.
Nnoitra grasped for a reply, yet none came to his lips." Watch it, Grantz…"
Neliel reappeared a few steps away, and just as the Quinta charged, she disappeared again. It was a farce, he could see the tired lines on her face, the wounds still bleeding as she struggled to keep up with his every swing. But if that was the case, why did she still act like she had the upper hand. Why did the stony expression not leave her face?
And yet, with every step she took, the lance grew brighter and brighter, as though a piece of the sun was embedded in the glimmering metal. In the few cases he managed to reach her, the cuts were shallow, barely nicking her.
He couldn't tell whether he was deliberately slowing down or if she was getting quicker, yet it became increasingly evident that it was the latter. In his Ressurecion form he could follow her movements, but the more she moved, the more difficult it became.
Just then, she revealed herself atop one of the same red pillars, looking down at Nnoitra. Even as her knees buckled from the wounds and her left arm was lying limply to her side, she was breathtaking. What was in her palm could no longer be called a lance. It was a shard from of light from the sky itself, raised triumphantly over her head.
"Are you running, Neliel? Get down here and face me!" The Quinta shrieked, exerting his spiritual pressure and scaling the empty air to reach her. A glaring mistake.
"El Impulso!" She bellowed, and the lance came down. He had just enough time to raise all of his scythes as though they were mirrors to shield himself, but it was of little use. The light broke them apart with ease and hit his chest, opening the wound in his side. With a scream, half from shock and half from pain, Nnoitora fell against the sand below, just as Neliel dove once again.
"Master Nnoitra!" yelled Tesla, the Soul Reaper very nearly forcing him back in his moment of surprise.
"Shut the hell up, Tesla. Don't you pity me…I told you to fucking kill them, so do it…" The Espada lifted himself to his feet, revealing all six of his arms and staring at Neliel." Now what was that technique?"
"Impetus, the moving impulse. The more I move, the stronger the following attack becomes. Each Espada has his own ability, and that is mine." She gave him a stern look, raising the lance over her head. "You won't bear another hit, Nnoitra."
"No…but neither will you!" He burst into laughter and charged. Her mouth was wide open when his edges hands bit into her flank. He didn't a weapon, not for this. The others dove forward, barely deflected by the spin of her lance as she retreated, falling to her knees immediately upon showing herself.
"I told you, Neliel, you can not defeat me. Not after years of wallowing about, wasting your time playing with those Fracciones you treated like friends." He spat. "You were always too trusting. Too weak to be a real Espada." Nnoitra jumped again, and finally her speed relented, his fingers drawing blood just below the neck.
She sped forth, and her lance glowed again, but he knew that it was a futile effort, she wouldn't have the window of opportunity to throw another attack like that.
Suddenly, a gushing sound split the silence from behind him. Eye wide open, he stared blankly at the scene unfolding before him. A new Soul Reaper stood in front of Ichigo Kurosaki, brandishing a rusted, almost broken blade, his hair curled into spikes, and an eyepatch along his face.
His Zanpakuto was red with Tesla's blood, the herculean boarman falling in twain before his blade. Very nearly dead, desperately clinging to life. The Soul Reaper stared down at the broken Fraccion with a mixture of distaste and boredom.
"Master Nnoitra…" mumbled the fallen Arrancar, and for a split second, the Quinta hesitated, just as his hands were mere inches from Neliel's throat. She disappeared, and he already knew it was too late.
"El Impulso." He heard the statement. Saw the lance soar, almost lazily, towards his back. It didn't glow as brightly, not until, like a needle, it went through his chest, blood gushing forth from the wound, the Espada's knees giving out as he collapsed into the sand.
"It's not too late you know. They haven't run far." Grantz reclined against his seat again, looking bored.
"I won't go after weaklings, I told you already!" Nnoitra spat in response, not matching the other man's gaze.
"Oh, I never said you'd have to soil your arms with blood, Nnoitra. Don't worry yourself with such minute details. All I need to do is tell our newly demoted number Nine that there are such tasty morsels out in the sands, so rich with spiritual energy." Grantz licked his lips again, as if savoring the thought.
"They'd fall upon the escapees, have a fine feast and settle the last niggling thread in this whole affair." Szayel smirked, his eyes level with Nnoitra's. "Of course, that'd cause an upset in the ranks, wouldn't it? And you rather enjoy yours."
He looked down, though he knew he wouldn't see a thing. That was right, he had been gifted a new number, the number he deserved. Five, not eight. And yet, he couldn't stand with the thought of his peer's plan.
"Go fuck yourself. Tell that bastard the same. I'd take his heads myself if he goes near them. If Neliel comes back, I'm the one that'll kill her. You hear me, Grantz?" Nnoitra was almost yelling, only catching himself at the very end." That's the last thing we needed to discuss. Our business is over."
He turned to leave, almost stepping out of the door before Szayel's voice reached him, a low rumbling laugh coming from his makeshift throne.
"Did you really care so much? My, my, you should have told me."
Nnoitra didn't deign him with an answer, Santa Teresa flying to bring the door shut.
Neliel caught herself in her jump, just as Nnoitra collapsed. She had struck him from behind, just as he had decided against. The Quinta slumped against the sand, clutching the wound, blood rushing irrevocably from it. He knew he'd survive though, unless Neliel finally relented.
She walked over to him, limping and bleeding almost as badly as he was. They exchanged a look, and for once, he thought they understood each other. She raised the lance and gave him a smile. Once again, he narrowly considered smiling back, but his mouth wouldn't budge.
"I'm sorry." She mumbled, and he felt the momentum of the lance as it flew for his neck. Just then, a cracking sound erupted behind him.
When he looked back he did not see Neliel the Tercera Espada, but the same child he had spared so long ago, the lance vanishing, and the Aspect of Despair felt that emotion more sharply than ever.
He didn't even pay attention when Kurosaki scooped up the child in his arms and disappeared, nor when his pleading look to the other Soul Reaper was answered by a blank stare and a scoff.
All he did notice was that he'd never get the same chance again. He wasn't supposed to survive, not like this. He looked to Tesla, dying without even a chance for salvation. They were supposed to be three, but there he was, just one. Alone.