The light was faint in her eyes, as it always had been, ever since she had been born into this cruel world. She feebly looked up at the shining, everlasting beauty of the moon: the sharpest, deadliest silver blade of fate, now falling upon her existence at once. Her lungs could not take all the oxygen that she needed; she felt faint. Her arms lay limply by her side on the white and grey sand, their pale color blinding against the dark tones of her blood. Her legs were bent at an odd angle, so that she could not stand up, much less walk or run. She was lost and she knew it; the end was coming for her after three hundred years.

Idiot.

A familiar voice, her own voice, sounded through the darkness that was slowly filling up her mind. She turned her head to the side, a movement which proved surprisingly tiring. There she was again, once again beside her: the exact replica of herself: a white hollow mask with two huge and curved horns, hiding half of her pale face, slightly messy and light pink hair floating on her frail shoulders. She appeared to be very lightly clothed for the cold climate: a small white dress with a black layer on the bottom and a bright green scarf that looked out-of-place were the only things protecting her against the icy wind. She did not seem to mind one bit; her small, lithe body wasn't shivering, nor was her undead skin covered in goose bumps.

Her big violet eyes started nonchalantly at the agonizing girl lying motionless on the sand –the girl that was herself, and yet not herself. She smirked, or rather tried to smirk, for instead of her usual sarcasm and indifference there was genuine love and sadness in her.

Look where ya've gotten us now, she said, her lips silent and unmoving but her gaze quietly sending her thought to the dying hollow.

"What… What do ya reckon we do now?" the fallen one replied, half a smile playing on her lips. "What's the new plan?"

I suppose we can just stay here until we die and some random, lowly hollow comes to feast on us. After all, what other choice do you think we have now? We can't possibly go back. We'd die before we can even manage three steps. We're finished.

"I know", the other girl said as a tear of hate and regret rolled down her cheek, a salty, translucid little pearl which could do nothing to change the past. "I'm… sorry", she said again with effort. "I knew ya wanted to become strong… the strongest. I… I guess I did stand in your way after all."

The features of the standing girl softened, and as she did so small, almost invisible freckles that decorated her white cheeks appeared in the moonlight. She wasn't ugly, nor was she incredibly beautiful, but what did that matter anymore? She had never particularly cared about her appearance and she was not about to do so now. As the end came, she wanted to feel… happy. Fulfilled, at once, in her long existence. All that fighting, all those battles, all that rage and all that frustration… they were so tiring to her now. She had never felt this exhausted before. Curse the battles, curse the power, curse the blood and the killing, curse the war. She wanted nothing but to rest, at last.

She kneeled down to the girl lying on the sand and put her hand on her shoulder, with a hand that was still strong, that had not yet lost all its power. A soft smile curved her lips.

"You dear, dear imbecile", she spoke out loud in a velvet voice which, for once, didn't announce the start of a battle to the death. "You never were an obstacle for me. How could a person stand in its own way to its ultimate goal?"

The other girl let out a small, throaty laugh and coughed up a crimson flow of blood. As she looked up at her half, there was a glint in her purple orbs.

"H… Happens more than ya think, ya know", she said with a tiny smile. Her body started trembling, and she coughed up blood again.

The other hollow slid her hand down to her wrist before pressing their palms together. As they held their hands tightly they both noticed the other's skin was frigthingly cold and clammy.

Did ya love him? Want him? The kneeling girl thought again. Or did he just fascinate ya?

"I don't know, really…" the other girl responded with a shaky laugh. "I guess I… just got kinda lonely, that's all".

Ya had me. The simple, short sentence was said, thought, rather, with an accusing tone and maybe some hurt in those empty eyes.

"…Wasn't that enough?" was the unspoken question that should have followed. But the girl did not dare say it nor think it; it was too late, far too late to get into this argument now.

The eyes of the fallen hollow softened and filled up with tears again. She wore the smile on her lips now as she wore the hollow mask that was the symbol of her untamable rage and fury throughout her life in Hueco Mundo. It had been disguise, all fake, fake but sweet, strong and fierce as armor, and definitely better than letting anyone hurt her. She had enjoyed it, a lot. It had been fun.

Then, she heard it. As loud as her voice use to yell in a battle, as loud as her adversaries screamed with pain as their very souls were destroyed.

Her heartbeat. Unbearably slow, unbearably feeble, but yet so loud, pounding in her ears like the Drums of Hell coming to greet her. She smiled ; after all, she was –or rather, had been – the Devil itself, and going to Hell would only be like returning home after a long voyage. The other hollow that was her and yet not her stayed quietly by her side, holding her hand, as quiet as the desert and as still as the night.

The end is near, one of them whispered.

"Let it come", the other replied, closing her eyes.

The drums of Hell kept on beating, getting weaker and weaker by the second.