Author's Note:
I'm still working on getting the characterization right for these two, as well as the other characters in the story, so hopefully they're relatively in-character. Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 2: Illusion of Choice
Ichigo never liked mornings. Waking up for school as the first rays of sun crested the horizon generally left him feeling groggy and out-of-sorts, especially if he'd been out late fighting hollows. He tended to spend the first few hours of the morning in a grouchy daze, stumbling around like a zombie until he woke up properly.
Of course, that was on a normal morning. Normal mornings didn't include being woken by the clinical application of a cold feline nose to his face.
"Gaaahhh!" Ichigo squeaked, bolting upright as he felt something cold and damp prod his cheek. Blinking in confusion, he cursed as Yoruichi's golden eyes swam into view, only inches away from his face.
"Good, you're awake," she commented in her gravelly voice. Folding her paws in front of her neatly, she settled onto his chest and remarked, "So, why do you have an espada in your closet?"
Ichigo flopped back down onto his pillow with a groan. "Damn it, Yoruichi…" he began. Then he caught sight of the glowing green numbers on his alarm clock. "4:30 AM?" he yelped, voice embarrassingly high. "Yoruichi, what are you doing in my bedroom at 4:30 in the morning?"
She flicked her tail nonchalantly. "Finding out why you have an espada in your closet." Her tone implied both that this should be obvious, and that he should start explaining soon.
Ichigo ran a hand over his eyes. "It's a long story," he muttered. "Can I explain it later? As in, at a reasonable hour?" I need sleep, he thought plaintively. There's no way I can pass that stupid exam if I fall asleep halfway through it. He grimaced. Then again, maybe leaving half of the questions blank would actually improve my grade.
Yoruichi prodded him with a paw. "No." She gave him a stern gaze, and he shrank backwards. The tips of her claws rested gently on his t-shirt, threatening violence if he didn't comply with her demands.
Resigning himself to her disapproval, he opened his mouth to begin the tale. Then his closet door slid open. "Hey, Kurosaki, didn't know you had a kitty cat," Grimmjow commented, leaning on the door frame. His chest was bare apart from the bandages, revealing tan skin and toned muscle. "Cute kitty." Ichigo swallowed hard, tensing nervously at the way Yoruichi's ears pricked up. This is not going to go well, he thought in exasperation. At least Grimmjow hadn't insulted Yoruichi's feline form, but a slight smirk played about his lips. What is he planning? Ichigo couldn't answer, and that was never a good sign. I don't need a pitched battle in my bedroom, thank you very much.
Yoruichi snickered, curling her tail about her legs as she sat up – still on Ichigo's chest. He heaved a sigh and stayed still as her claws pricked his skin; forcibly removing her would be a terminally unwise decision. Practically purring, she replied, "So you're the stray Ichigo brought home. Why are you in Karakura?"
"Oh look, it talks," Grimmjow commented, lifting an eyebrow. Ichigo winced. Okay, now I'm pretty sure that he's trying to rile her up, he sighed silently. Surely Aizen briefed his espada on the opponents they were likely to encounter; he has to know that she's a shinigami. Maybe it was some demented form of feline territoriality driving him. Ichigo couldn't think of a sane reason why Grimmjow would deliberately antagonize a former captain who could beat him to a pulp without breaking a sweat. Then again, it's Grimmjow we're talking about, he reminded himself. Sane is not an applicable word.
Feline faces couldn't deliver the same level of sardonic look as human faces, but somehow Yoruichi managed. "Hmm, so do you," she replied smoothly. The barest hint of surprise flavored her tone.
Grimmjow snickered in appreciation. Taking a step into the room to lounge against the wall, he asked, "So, Kurosaki, what's with the pussy?" If his injuries troubled him, it didn't show in his movement, which was as fluid as ever.
"Grimmjow, stop it," Ichigo warned, as Yoruichi shifted her weight. I really don't want my bedroom to become a battlefield. In retrospect, he should have known that he couldn't hide Grimmjow's presence from the residents of Urahara's shoten. The shopkeeper's array of reiatsu detectors were simply too good; they would have noted Nel's arrival with Grimmjow as soon as she stepped out of the garganta. But why couldn't they have met at a reasonable hour, and managed to maintain politeness for longer than a heartbeat?
You're whining, King, his hollow pointed out gleefully.
Ichigo glowered. Shut up. I don't need your advice right now. Even if he truly was whining.
Yoruichi launched herself off of Ichigo's chest, landing lightly on the cover of his math textbook. He inhaled gratefully as she announced, "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Former sixth espada, who embodied the aspect of destruction." She gave him a disdainful look. "I suggest that you provide an acceptable reason for your presence immediately."
"Oh yeah?" Grimmjow responded, sounding like one of the cocky teenage bullies who roamed the halls of Ichigo's high school. "Or what?" He glanced at her dismissively, sneering. "What can you do?"
Smothering a groan with his pillow, Ichigo wondered if he could simply pull the covers over his head and ignore the brewing storm. So maybe Aizen didn't inform his espada about her, or Grimmjow just wasn't paying attention, he thought in disgust. Even he can't be that suicidal… right?
Reiatsu rose from both Yoruichi and Grimmjow, bringing a heavy sense of impending doom to the room. The air felt charged, as if a lightning strike was imminent. Yoruichi tossed her head dismissively before leaping off of the desk. Before her feet hit the ground, her body writhed and dematerialized, snapping back into form as a – unfortunately naked – human woman.
Ichigo yanked the blankets over his eyes with a strangled squeak. "Clothes!" he bit out as heat flooded his cheeks. "Put on some clothes, damn it!" Why does she always have to take so much pleasure in flaunting her body? he complained, peeking out from under the sheet while keeping his gaze firmly averted from Yoruichi. While he had grown somewhat accustomed to her lack of modesty, he still found it unnerving.
Grimmjow, on the other hand, wolf-whistled appreciatively. "Damn." Eyeing Yoruichi up and down, he leered lasciviously. "Nice tits." A slow smirk spread across his face as he took a step away from the wall. "Actually, great ass, too."
This cannot be happening, please don't let this be happening, Ichigo chanted to himself, torn between the urge to bury his head under his pillows and the compulsion to watch the oncoming train wreck. As Grimmjow strolled forwards, still leering, Yoruichi propped her fists on her hips and rolled her eyes. "You really are as childish as Kisuke said," she sighed, totally comfortable with her state of undress.
Grimmjow stopped abruptly, an affronted look on his face. "Childish?" he demanded.
She favored him with a condescending look. "Unable to focus on anything beyond your immediate desires, hot-headed, immature… Ring a bell?" She leaned back on Ichigo's desk and crossed her legs, ignoring Grimmjow's lecherous gaze.
"Um, guys?" Ichigo interrupted, blushing heavily as Yoruichi turned towards him. "Can this wait?" As Yoruichi opened her mouth, he added hastily, "And please, please, put some clothes on!" He grabbed his jacket from where it hung on his bedpost and tossed it to her, crossing his fingers under the blanket. Please, put it on, he begged silently.
Amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she slid her arms into the jacket. "Better?" she asked, zipping it partway up. Though it was barely longer than a miniskirt, Ichigo nodded gratefully, and Yoruichi snickered. "Now that your prudishness has been satisfied, I'm still waiting for an explanation." Her expression hardened as she stared at Grimmjow, who lidded his eyes and stared back.
Ichigo exhaled heavily. He had seen alley cats face off like that, locking eyes in a staring contest laden with tension. Usually one would look away after a few seconds, flicking its tail as it sauntered off as if it had meant to lose. Somehow I don't think that'll happen here. Behavior that was amusing among real felines took on a whole new menace when the combatants each had the power to level a city block.
Grimmjow opened his mouth, no doubt to say something insulting, but before he could speak, Ichigo interrupted. "Nel dropped him off last night," he explained wearily, scrubbing a hand over his face. "She asked me to let him stay until he's healed, since apparently he's got enemies looking for him back in Hueco Mundo."
"Well, that explains the bandages, not to mention the low reiatsu," Yoruichi commented, folding her arms across her chest. "I can't say I'm surprised about the enemies, either." She studied Grimmjow speculatively, eyes narrowed.
The feline espada bared his teeth. "They're a bunch of weaklings, there's no way they can hurt me," he scoffed.
"Uh-huh," Yoruichi murmured, unconvinced. She tossed her head. "Well, if you're planning on staying with Ichigo until you heal, you should talk to Kisuke. Why don't you both come with me to the shoten?" Her tone implied that it was not a request.
"Hey!" Grimmjow protested indignantly. "I'm not planning on staying that long; I'm leaving as soon as I can." He clenched his fingers around the hilt of his zanpakuto, which he had stuck through the waistband of his bloodstained hakama.
Good, Ichigo thought sullenly, flopping back against his pillows. With a typical arrancar's rate of healing, that wouldn't take more than a few days. He'd be gone by the weekend.
Yoruichi's golden eyes hardened. "That wasn't a question. Considering your prior actions, there's no way that Kisuke and I are willing to allow you to wander around unconstrained and unmonitored." She unzipped Ichigo's jacket and tossed it over the back of his chair. As heat flooded his cheeks, wavered and morphed into her sleek black feline shape. "Let's go." She twitched her tail irritably as she switched her gaze between Ichigo and Grimmjow.
"Now?" Ichigo complained, flushing as his whiny tone reached his ears. Attempting to moderate it, he continued, "Can't it wait until after school?" He cast a despairing glance at his alarm clock, which was set to wake him in a little over an hour. Why do we have to do this now? There was no way he could get back to sleep at this point, but at least he could use the extra time to study.
Judging by Grimmjow's sullen expression, the espada wasn't any more excited about the prospective field trip than Ichigo was. "This is pointless," he snarled, pacing impatiently back and forth within the cramped confines of Ichigo's bedroom. Though he could only take a few steps before he had to turn around, he managed to imbue the motion with a frustrated grace. If he had been in his resurrection form, his tail would have been lashing furiously.
Yoruichi leapt onto Ichigo's desk, snagging his substitute badge with a needle-sharp claw. Before he could react, she tossed it onto his chest, unceremoniously evicting him from his body. "We don't have much time," she informed them both in her gravelly voice. "Get moving." She didn't bother to address either of their objections.
Ichigo tugged irritably at his gi as he extracted his spirit form from the tangled blankets. As always, seeing his body lying motionless in front of him made him shiver – he could never quite escape the niggling fear that, one day, he wouldn't be able to return.
Admittedly, on the days when the stress of pretending to be normal started to overwhelm him, he wondered if that would be a good thing.
Right now, however, wasn't a great time to mull over that possibility. He grabbed Kon from his perch on the dresser, tossing the soul candy in his body's mouth and reminding Kon to behave himself while in Ichigo's body. The mod soul muttered a grumpy assent before pulling the covers over his head and curling into a ball. With Yoruichi back in her feline form and no other attractive women around, he saw little point to being awake before the sunrise.
"Remember to go to school if I'm not back in time," Ichigo ordered wearily. "I can't afford to miss any more class." His teachers had been surprisingly forgiving of his numerous absences after Urahara had produced a fake doctor's note detailing his sister's supposed illness, but he didn't want to push his luck. Thankfully, none of his teachers could tell the difference between him and Kon. Or, more likely, they don't really care. Kon's imitation of him simply wasn't good enough to fool anyone who knew him marginally well; his friends would notice the difference within seconds.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes as he threw a punch at the air. "Done yet?" If he noticed the blood starting to seep through the bandages on his shoulder, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he snarled, "Let's get this farce over with," and tossed another punch at an imaginary target.
Yoruichi nodded once and leapt for the windowsill. "Keep up if you can," she ordered shortly, before vanishing in a burst of shunpo. Ichigo scrambled to obey. I wonder why she's grumpy, he mused, following her rapidly-fading trail – even after months of training, his ability to track reiatsu was virtually nonexistent. Maybe she's not a morning person either. While he could have found Urahara's shop blindfolded, the inhabitants of the shoten insisted that he take a different route every time he visited in his spirit form. Yoruichi in particular enforced that rule. Ichigo wasn't sure if it was paranoia or reasonable caution, and had given up questioning the secretive shinigami.
Ichigo glanced over his shoulder, vaguely irritated to see Grimmjow keeping up effortlessly. Stupid hollow, he grumbled internally.
His own hollow snickered. Sure that's the right word, King? he asked slyly, forcing his way to the forefront of Ichigo's mind. You have to admit, he's pretty damn hot like this. Of course, he looked better all covered in blood, but that's easy to fix.
I… what… no… what? Ichigo spluttered incoherently. Images of his last fight with Grimmjow rose in his mind, propelled by his inner hollow, and he rolled his eyes. You're disgusting, he told his hollow curtly. The sexta espada hardly fit the conventional definition of attractiveness with blood dripping down his torso and the light of battle-madness flaring in his eyes.
The creature who shared his soul snickered again. You're in denial, King.
Just shut up, Ichigo snapped back. While he'd come to a reluctant truce with his hollow, he knew that it would pounce on any sign of weakness. Giving in to its goading would only encourage its belief that he was unfit to be king, and he had no desire to return to the days of constant battles for supremacy. Besides, there's no way I would consider Grimmjow attractive. Annoying, yes; arrogant, yes; a total pain the ass, yes. Attractive? Not so much. He'd need to get rid of the whole I-rule-the-world attitude first, for one thing.
Ichigo snuck another glance back at the espada, who leapt from building to building with barely a whisper of sound. A crimson stain was slowly spreading through the bandages over his shoulder, but Ichigo was glad to see that the gut wound hadn't broken open yet. Surreptitiously studying him, Ichigo was forced to admit that, if not for his attitude, the espada would have girls fawning all over him. He'd probably make a lot of money if he was an actor, so long as he could keep his mouth shut, the substitute soul reaper reasoned. But as soon as he starts to talk, his fans would run away screaming. Lewd insults and profanity didn't attract many people.
You know there's a way to take care of that, his hollow purred.
Ichigo blushed hotly as he figured out what the hollow was implying, nearly missing his next shunpo step. As he scrambled to reach the next rooftop, he growled, I said shut up! The hollow laughed with satisfaction as it sank back into the depths of Ichigo's inner world.
Much to Ichigo's relief, they reached Urahara's shop without any more interruptions from his hollow. The sky was just beginning to lighten, but Ururu was already outside sweeping. She looked up from her task when they landed and gave them a shy smile. "Urahara-san is in the training room," she informed them softly, a pale blush staining her cheeks pink as she turned her attention back to the broom in her hand. Her eyes widened as she snuck glances at the frustrated espada, but she didn't say anything as Grimmjow followed Ichigo into the shop.
Yoruichi grinned wolfishly at the former sexta. "You'll like this." She led them through the trapdoor that led to Urahara's massive basement, complete with false sky, dead trees, and hulking rock formations, smirking at Grimmjow's open-mouthed astonishment.
"This is bigger than Las Noches!" the espada blurted out, squinting towards the rock spires on the horizon.
Urahara fluttered his fan modestly in front of his face. "Oh, it's nothing," he murmured. The former captain, clad in his green-and-white-striped bucket hat and wooden sandals, waited at the base of the long ladder for them to finish their descent. His forest green haori fluttered about him in a gentle breeze with no apparent source; Ichigo could never figure out how Urahara managed to maintain such a lifelike environment. If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed that the brilliant scientist had somehow transported them into a real-world desert. The only discrepancy was the time: it was always midafternoon here.
Grimmjow's eyes slid partway closed as the heat of the artificial sun hit him. The corners of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile as he leapt off the ladder, landing in a plume of dust. "It's nice," he muttered, perching on a boulder. Then he scowled. "But that doesn't mean I want to be here." He cast a suspicious look at Urahara, all traces of contentment vanishing from his face.
The shopkeeper smiled cheerfully back. "That's alright, you don't have to enjoy it here. But we can't exactly let you cause havoc in the world above, now can we?" His tone held no hint of threat; he was just stating the facts as he saw them.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "I swear I won't cause too much trouble. How's that? Can I go now?" He sounded like a petulant teenager, but a thread of some unreadable emotion ran through his tone. Though he appeared deceptively relaxed, Ichigo could tell that he was ready to spring into motion at any second.
Urahara fanned himself as he replied, "I'm afraid that's not good enough, espada-san."
"My name is Grimmjow," the former sexta espada interrupted rudely.
Urahara gave him a small bow. "Grimmjow-san, then. While I'd like to believe you, I'm afraid your record leaves much to be desired." He studied the espada from under the brim of his hat, keeping his fan in front of his face. His expression showed nothing but innocent curiosity, but that didn't reassure Grimmjow, who shifted uncomfortably on his rock.
Just spit it out, Hat-and-Clogs, Ichigo muttered in the privacy of his own mind. What do you want? If he'd learned anything from the war against Aizen, it was that Urahara never did anything without multiple motives.
A long moment passed in silence before Grimmjow tossed his head. "What do you want?" he spat. Folding his arms across his chest, he glared at the enigmatic shopkeeper.
Urahara snapped his fan shut and gave the espada a guileless look. "I'm just a humble candy-store owner; what makes you think I want something?" Yoruichi snorted, and he flashed her a mischievous grin. "Besides a guarantee that this fair city is safe, of course."
"Don't give me that bullshit," Grimmjow snarled, leaping off of his rock and starting to pace. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and wisps of cero energy drifted around them. "If you didn't want something, I wouldn't be here. Everyone wants something." He sneered. "And don't give me that crap about being a candy-store owner; I know who you are." Looking Urahara up and down derisively, he snorted, "Or rather, who you were."
The former captain sighed and dropped his pretense of harmlessness. "Very well." He took a seat on a nearby boulder, tapping his fan on his hand. "Grimmjow-san, your presence in this town constitutes an unacceptable risk to the civilian population. Even in your present condition, you could cause immense amounts of damage." He tipped his hat down, shading his eyes as he studied the espada.
Grimmjow snorted. "Like I want to do that. I just want to heal so I can go back." He grimaced as he kicked a rock out of his way, glaring at the ground with a frustrated expression.
"You know, we can send you back now," Yoruichi offered, curling her tail neatly over her paws. "Give us a few hours, and Kisuke can build a garganta back to Hueco Mundo."
"Now, wait a minute," Ichigo protested. "You can't do that!" He didn't particularly like the arrogant espada, but he refused to send him into a death trap. He doesn't deserve that. Grimmjow had brought Orihime to heal him after Ulquiorra plunged a hand through his chest; he owed the espada for that. Admittedly, he did it for his own selfish reasons, but still. If not for him, we all would have died on those blood-soaked sands. Sending him half-healed into an ambush would be a poor way to repay that.
Yoruichi shrugged, sending a ripple of fur down her spine. "Survival of the fittest. If he's strong enough, he'll survive. Isn't that how it's supposed to work, Grimmjow?"
The feline espada glanced between Yoruichi and Ichigo, incredulity chasing pride and anger across his face. His mouth opened and closed several times before he threw up his hands in disgust. "You shinigami make no sense," he growled, lashing out with a brutal backhanded punch at the rock beside him. The sandstone shattered, showering him with rubble, and he bared his teeth in satisfaction.
Ichigo shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Can't you give him a power limiter, like the ones the captains wear when they're here?" he suggested when the silence stretched on a bit too long.
"Good idea, Ichigo," Urahara replied smoothly, as if he hadn't thought of the idea himself. Ichigo rolled his eyes. I don't know what you want, but there's no way you couldn't come up with the notion of a power limiter, he told the shopkeeper silently.
Grimmjow eyed them both dubiously. "A power limiter?" he asked skeptically.
Urahara gave him a cheerful grin. "Don't worry, it won't hurt," he reassured the espada. "It's easy to do; it should only take an hour or two to whip up."
"No way," Grimmjow retorted. "I won't let my fangs be drawn by a cowardly shinigami and his bitch." Cero fire flared around his fists, but Ichigo didn't think it was a threat. It seemed more like an instinctive defensive response to the idea of losing part of his power. I can sympathize with that, he realized. He couldn't imagine voluntarily giving up a significant portion of his power, not after being stripped of all of it during the war with Aizen. One experience of powerlessness is more than enough.
Yoruichi narrowed her lambent eyes. "You don't get a choice," she informed him coolly. Her ears had flattened against her head at Grimmjow's rude statement, and her reiatsu dripped with frosty disdain.
Urahara waved his hands placatingly. "What if we make it so Ichigo can release it?" he suggested peaceably. "It won't restrict more than 80% of your power – that's the same amount that the captains lose when they come here." He smiled at some private joke, casting a sidelong glance at Ichigo. "If our substitute soul reaper wasn't human, with his powers kept in check by his body most of the time, he'd be ordered to wear one as well."
Ichigo started at that. "Wait, l would?" He hadn't ever considered the notion. Though I suppose the badge might serve the same purpose, give the Gotei 13 the ability to clamp down on my power if I ever got out of control. He still didn't know all of its properties.
Yoruichi flicked her tail, giving him a look that suggested he was a particularly dull student who had managed to miss the point of a lesson for the thousandth time. "You're as strong as a captain," she told him. "Of course you would."
Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he muttered sullenly. "I guess I've got no choice. I'll take your damn power limiter, so long as I can still fight." He had clearly decided that arguing was futile. Ichigo was surprised, though, that he hadn't immediately leapt on Yoruichi's offer to send him home. Why doesn't he want to go back to Hueco Mundo? For that matter, why hadn't Yoruichi and Urahara insisted on sending him back? It would solve all of their problems in one fell swoop.
Would you want to return to such a barren, lonely place, Ichigo? Zangetsu asked softly.
Ichigo frowned. His zanpakuto rarely offered advice, but his words always held a wealth of meaning. I guess not, he thought slowly. But this is Grimmjow we're talking about! He couldn't imagine the brash espada feeling lonely, much less admitting it. But I guess I don't really know that much about him. A warrior could learn a lot about an opponent over the course of a battle, but it wasn't the same as being friends.
He glanced over at Grimmjow, whose hands clenched and unclenched compulsively at his side. The espada's face displayed a blend of fury and resentment, underlaid with wary resignation. The sight sent an unexpected twinge through Ichigo's heart – he could imagine exactly how Grimmjow must be feeling, and he wouldn't want to inflict that painful blend of emotions on anyone. But all thoughts of worry were driven out of his head when he looked down at his watch.
"6:15?" he yelped, flushing as everyone turned to stare at him curiously. "I've got to get back, my dad always wakes me up at 6:30," he explained hurriedly, trotting towards the ladder up to the shoten.
"Why don't you return here after school, Ichigo?" Urahara suggested. "We can entertain Grimmjow for a day." He gave the espada a genial, welcoming smile; Grimmjow just glowered back. Ichigo couldn't blame him – Urahara's version of 'entertain' typically meant 'force to do any chores I can come up with.' But that wasn't Ichigo's problem at the moment.
"Sure, yeah, whatever," he called back over his shoulder, already halfway up the ladder. "See you this afternoon." That is, if I don't get grounded for sneaking an espada into my room. Not that there was much chance of that. His dad still preferred to pretend to be a normal, albeit kooky, human, ignoring much of the evidence about Ichigo's less mundane activities. I still can't believe he let Rukia stay in my room for months without even giving me a hint that he knew about soul reapers and the spirit world. So he probably wouldn't remark on Grimmjow's nocturnal appearance.
Then again, if I don't get back to my body in time, who knows what he'll do. Knowing his dad, it'd probably be something embarrassing. I don't think I want to find out. So he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, using every bit of the agility he'd learned fighting Urahara, Byakuya, Kenpachi, and every other opponent the world could throw at him to speed his way home. Home, pretend to wake up, study for math during breakfast… So much to do today, he thought ruefully. At least Urahara will take care of Grimmjow while I'm at school, and hopefully he'll be on his way home soon. The espada couldn't cause that much trouble in two or three days. Everything can go back to normal soon. He wanted to believe that, but, as he slid into his body a millisecond before his dad burst into the room, he couldn't escape the sinking feeling that he was missing something important.
High above the city, where the air thinned and the winds raced through the upper reaches of the atmosphere, a thin crack of darkness sliced through the sky. The jagged band quickly widened to reveal a trio of slender hollows, who regarded the town below with narrowed eyes beneath their masks. Their reiatsu, wrapped tightly around them to mask their presence, emanated confidence and cruelty in equal measure. As they stepped out of the portal, it snapped shut behind them with a sharp crack.
The leader of the trio, a slender hollow whose humanoid torso blended seamlessly into a scaled serpentine tail, bared his fangs. The two long canines swung down from the roof of his mouth, protruding grotesquely from his thin lips. A dark droplet of poison slid down one fang as he hissed, "Can you sense him?" Frustrated rage roiled around him, barely restrained from lashing out at the hollows next to him. He ran a hand over the partial mask that covered one eye and part of his nose, rubbing irritably at the broken horn that jutted out from its top.
"Not yet," the largest of the hollows rumbled. He inhaled harshly, sucking in air through his bone-covered muzzle. "His scent trail has faded; I can't track him." The hollow shifted his hulking shoulders uncomfortably as the serpentine hollow glared at him, but the tension was broken by the third member of the team, who snickered.
"Did you really expect something different?" she asked rhetorically, fanning her deceptively delicate wings lazily. "Nelliel might be going soft, but she's still a smart little bitch." She ran a finger over the bone circlet that decorated her forehead, tapping the centerpiece that rose from her head in a spiral horn. "I can feel where she entered the town, but she's completely hidden her trail from there on." The petite hollow grimaced, exposing a row of jagged teeth. If not for the shark-like maw, she would have looked like an illustration in a children's fairy tale, complete with translucent wings and elfin features. But the bloodstained fangs shattered the illusion.
The serpentine hollow turned his red-eyed glare on her with a hiss. "Arietta, shut up," he ordered curtly. She simpered sarcastically at him, opening her mouth to snap back, when he pulled his lips back. Another set of fangs hinged out of his jaw, glistening with oily liquid, and she recoiled. A trace of fear lurked in her eyes as she sulkily shut her mouth. He gave her a humorless smile, pulling his fangs back into his mouth. "Better. Can you find him?"
She shrugged. "If he's here, he can't hide for too long." She twitched her head from side to side, setting scarlet tresses swinging. "I can sense traces of his presence, but they're all old. But he'll have to come out eventually."
"Eventually isn't good enough," the leader snarled back.
She flinched away from his anger, but held her ground. Spreading her hands placatingly, she repeated, "He can't hide forever. We'll get him." Her reiatsu swirled around her, a sullen mixture of dull violet and amber shot through with streaks of electric blue, signaling both her confidence and nervousness.
"She's right," the largest hollow concurred, bass voice soft and nonthreatening.
The serpentine hollow rolled his eyes. "She'd better be." He nodded imperiously to both of his followers. "Find him. Now."