Judgment

Lost beyond comprehension, Triste continued to follow Ulquiorra throughout the depths of Las Noches. Every once in a while, he explained the purpose of the department, but for the most part it was as quiet as the time she'd spent with Grimmjow.

While out, they had run into many other Arrancar, several of which were Espada and Priveron Espada. Some acknowledged her, others…

"What was that look for?"

"She is from the Priveron Espada," Ulquiorra explained as Cirucci Thunderwitch passed by, a scowl on her face as she walked by Triste. "You are not a threat to her unlike the current Espada."

"Hmm? You mean because of the shifting of numbers?" Ulquiorra did not respond, but she knew it to be true. "So… you actually think I would make the cut, huh?"

Again, no response.

"Ulquiorra!" a voice suddenly called out as they entered a new corridor, finding an unusually tall and large man walking towards them, muscular all around with a broad chin and a broad grin across his face. "Acting as escort are we?"

Ulquiorra's eyes closed.

"So this must be the potential Espada I've heard about!" Yammy grinned eerily, taking a step closer in order to look over her. Triste watched him with uncertainty, curious but untrustworthy of this new Espada, who looked upon her as if she were a mere decoration. "Hmph! I'm not impressed."

Her eyes narrowed. "An Espada, right? What is your number?"

Yammy chuckled to himself to hear this woman talk to him so freely. "Don't worry your pretty little head off over that! I…"

Ulquiorra's eyes opened almost instantly as Yammy spoke, quite aware of what was coming.

Before Yammy could even finish his next sentence, the only thing he could do was grunt in pain as Triste managed to grab his arm and twist it around his backside, holding it in a quite painful position, rendering Yammy practically useless.

Considering her slow adjustments to this new body, she reacted incredibly fast, and her physical strength seemed unreal for such a small physique.

Ulquiorra merely blinked before sighing faintly. Triste hadn't changed much over the years, it would seem… Any time somebody talked cutely to her or made her feel like she was a simple female (like the 'pretty little head' comment), she would often perform a feat like this, just to prove otherwise – it had surprised he and the other Vasto Lordes back in the day, one of the few violent outbreaks she would get. However, she did manage to hold back this time: she didn't break the limb she was torturing.

Triste's glare burned into his back: "You shouldn't judge others so quickly. I asked for your number – nothing more."

Yammy did not give a feasible answer, simply growling and grunting, his anger growing as he soon found out he could not break away from her, her tiny arms overpowering his large muscles.

"Triste," Ulquiorra's cool voice suddenly called out, gaining her attention easily, though she did not let go. After meeting his gaze for a moment, she released Yammy's arms, the Espada breaking away from her quickly to prevent it from happening again. He was ready to start more trouble, but Ulquiorra's hand raised between them, stopping him instantly. "Isn't there something you should be doing right now?"

Yammy hesitated a moment as he met Ulquiorra's distant eyes. With a "ch" he stormed off in another direction, leaving a last warning to echo behind him: "Don't think this is over!"

In no time, the two were once again traveling alone down the endless hallways. "Ulquiorra… are all the Espada so eccentric?"

His eyes glanced her way, but he made no reply.

I've gone so many years with limited contact with other Hollow; to be here, surrounded by so many with varying personalities… I thought I was lonesome before, but maybe I've been better off. Most of the ones I've met so far are on the angry, violent side…

Ulquiorra had a guess she was thinking such things, and could only wonder what it would be like if she were to meet all of the Espada: Gimmjow and Yammy were two of the worst she could possibly interact with, along with Noitra who was out with Neliel, scavenging for more Vasto Lordes in the distant colonies. Of course, the others who were more laidback like himself, did not show themselves and remained indifferent.

Finally they were back in the dormitory halls, Triste hoping this tour was coming to an end soon: not that the tour wasn't a learning experience for her, but this new body of hers was getting worn out after all this time. "Where are we going now?"

"Back to your room," he replied, much to her joy. "I will have food sent to you immediately after."

Her interest perked up at this remark: "Food?"

"Real food. You have not eaten since the change – you will need it before you are judged."

She blinked curiously; Judged?

He knew she was confused: "When you are pitted against the other Arrancar to determine your place amongst us… Or do you still claim to have a free mind of your own…?" he asked cynically, turning to meet her eyes but finding her no longer beside him. He glanced further back to find Triste several feet behind him, staring wide eyed at the door beside her.

Ulquiorra approached slowly, finding her eyes locked on the door, almost in a trance – a faint, blue light was glowing beneath her locks of hair.

This room… it is vacant. What is it that she could be seeing?

Suddenly she gasped aloud, breaking out of the trance and collapsing to her knees on the spot, her right hand grabbing at her cursed eye as it began to emit smoke, the glow a little bit brighter than before.

But Ulquiorra did not react. He simply watched her fall without a single care, noticing the small trail of smoke that protruded from beneath her hand. "What do you see?"

Triste did not answer immediately, still replaying the images in her head even as new ones appeared before her. "This room… who is in there?"

"No one – it is vacant."

But still she saw these images, knowing without a doubt this all happened in this room… Was this something from the past? No, what she was seeing couldn't possibly be from the past, it had to be the future… But that still makes no sense…

"I see somebody… a young woman… she's so sad…" her voice trailed off; the girl looked troubled, staring at the moon with saddened and desperate eyes, tears on the verge of spilling. She did not say anymore, lost as to why her eye was activated when it was covered, compelled to keep these images to herself, the future sufferings of a human girl in the world of Hollows…

In her mind, the girl gasped aloud, turning to find none other than Ulquiorra in the doorway, followed by servants pushing trays of food into the room. They were talking, but she could not hear them, only able to sense the growing desperation in the girl's heart as Ulquiorra played with her mind. Finally, the girl ran towards him and slapped him across the face – and Ulquiorra slapped her back, dropping her to the floor.

That was the last that she saw of them, and by the end of it, she had heard a single word out of their conversation, just before the slap: "Pathetic."

Triste trembled for a moment, lost by what she had just seen. And what about the other images that flashed by? She was seen with Aizen at least three times, the girl uneasy and eerily compliant throughout all of them… What was Aizen's interest in the poor human? What was going on…?

"Ulquiorra."

Her body flinched in response to the voice.

Ulquiorra looked away from Triste, finding two figures striding towards them at a casual walk: Gin and Aizen-sama.

As they got closer, they watched Triste curiously, wondering why she was on the ground, grabbing at her face. "What is this?" Aizen finally asked, knowing better than to believe that Ulquiorra might have done this.

Meeting his eyes only for a second, Ulquiorra returned his gaze to Triste, finding the glow and smoke gone from her eye. "She is still growing accustomed to this body. I feel she has not yet fully recovered from the transformation."

"Hmm… Her transformation was different," Aizen admitted, though rather indifferently.

He remembered a lot of the first Hollow he tried the Hougyouku out on, the test runs he had made in order to prefect the art before applying it to those who would someday become Espada. Some turned out well, producing moderately decent Arrancar. The less fortunate were often left in pieces around the room, exploding under the pressure. Though Triste did not pull through smoothly, she didn't have to be scraped off the ceiling either – it was marked as a success.

As Triste began steadying herself, ready to push back up to a stand, she was shocked to suddenly find another figure right beside her. Her head moved swiftly, finding none other than Gin right beside her, offering his hand in assistance.

She had to struggle not to blush in someway.

A little wearily, Triste accepted his help and took him by the hand, letting him pull her back to her feet.

As soon as she grabbed his hand, Ulquiorra closed his eyes while Aizen smiled.

"There! That's better!" said Gin as she steadied herself once again, slipping his hands back into his sleeves easily. "No harm done, I hope?"

"Uh, no, I'm fine…" she replied, failing to hide the stutter in her voice for a moment. With a sideways glance at Ulquiorra, she assured them she was "Just a little woozy, that's all. To go from a quadruped back to a bipedal after all these years is really taking a toll on me…"

"Then we shall have to get you more acquainted," Aizen smiled. "It is time to test your new power; but first, I'd like to give you this – call it a gift for your new body."

Reaching into his robes, Triste watched in obvious confusion as he pulled out a katana blade. The sheath was all black and the handle and guard were very plain to say the least.

She had seen all of the other Arrancar carrying swords, but never quite understood. Even now, she was at a loss. She glanced back at Ulquiorra (who still had his eyes closed) and Gin (who merely grinned as always) for support before looking straight into Aizen's smug smile, fearing, for a split second, that she had almost been attracted to that devilish smile of his.

Finally, with no alternatives, Triste took the sword from him.

The instant she touched it, her entire body reacted to the power flowing through the blade, filling her with a new kind of strength that actually felt warm and familiar.

Only after the power surge had subsided did she notice the katana had changed: the guard was now gold, a beveled diamond of eight spokes, while the colors of the hilt changed to a burgundy and gold pattern, the tie string also changing to gold.

After all of this, all she could manage was "What…?"

And in that moment of silence, a voice resonated in her mind, a strong, masculine voice that called out her name: "…Triste…"

A shiver ran down her spine. Who…?

"Do not be afraid, Triste… I am not your enemy. I am a guide and a companion if you'll have me."

Her hand brought the sword close to her now, sure that the voice came from it; Who… who are you…?

The others watched silently as she muttered the name of her zanpakutou, the image of a mighty hawk appearing in her mind's eye: "…Horus…"

"Your zanpakutou will allow you to call out your original Hollow powers," Ulquiorra suddenly spoke up, deciding to be the one who informed her about this gift, and ultimately, to warn her: "Your strength will increase dramatically when it is released, but it will increase your need for energy."

Triste flinched at these final words, understanding the true meaning of his advice – and so did Aizen and Gin.

"Come, we have already prepared for you," Aizen spoke up once more, calling their attention to him as he led the way down the hallway they'd just come from.

Still a little nervous about the whole thing, Triste followed apprehensively, not at all comforted by either Ulquiorra or Gin.

"So!" Gin suddenly spoke up after a short distance. "What do you think so far?"

Triste was hesitant to answer, her feelings still unclear about all of this.

"With all the tours you've been on, you must have met quite a few of the other Arrancar! Some Espada, surely," he went on, apparently aware that she wasn't going to answer anytime soon.

"Uh, yes, a few," she replied.

"So? Where do you think you stand so far?"

Triste did not answer right away, which Ulquiorra took notice to. "I cannot say for sure… I'm afraid my only response to such a question makes me out to be arrogant and egotistical, but it is a truth that I have come to know: nobody can kill me, nor can I kill anyone…"

It was this comment that Aizen took note of.

Gin tilted his head at such an answer, confused and curious of what she could possibly mean: she cannot kill anyone, yet nobody can kill her?

It was not long at all before the four of them finally reached their destination, Tousen already there and waiting patiently. They emerged onto a small balcony overlooking the center of Las Noches, where Aizen's fake sun shined down on them from above. A throne was already in place for Aizen near the edge, while the rest walked forward in order to look upon the battle ground.

She trembled where she stood.

All these Arrancar… they're here to watch? To see who overpowers who? Though she could not see them all, of course, she recognized a few faces that she'd seen before: the female that had first insulted her out in the desert, the red-headed nurse, even Cirucci, Yammy, and Grimmjow – some of the last Arrancar she had ever hoped to see again. So many Arrancar filed into this small arena, a series of stadium seats lined up for them all to sit on and watch – as if this were set up purely for their entertainment!

Her spine tingled once again.

Suddenly Gin leaned in close, whispering with a genuine confidence in her: "Your first opponent will be Gantenbainne, a Priveron Espada – don't worry, he should be a pushover for you!"

His words certainly rose her spirits, but just couldn't shake off this nervousness. That's not what I'm afraid of though…

"Do not fear them, Triste. Remember, I am with you now. If you ever need me, simply call…" She stared down at her sword, still unused to a second voice in her head, especially one that was manly and supportive… but why did she feel so warm when she heard it? Why did it feel so… familiar?

With hardly a moment to spare, Tousen called out for this 'Gantenbainne' character to step forward for the first fight.

A small cheer went up from the crowd, excited that things were finally going to start. They had heard about this new Arrancar and were anxious to know where she lie in their ranks.

With her opponent already out in the ring, warming himself up, Tousen turned to her almost darkly, 'requesting' she get down there: "Go."

When Triste still did not move, he took it upon himself to use a sort of force: with a hasty leap towards her, he pulled his zanpakutou and swung it at her ankles, forcing her to jump out of the way and over the edge of the balcony.

"My! Impatient, are we?" Gin teased the blind man, but Tousen made no attempt to defend himself as he sheathed his sword.

Everyone watched with great anticipation as Triste jumped down to the sands below, landing surprisingly well – she contributed her swift dodge and graceful landing to the new strength provided by her sword, Horus.

All right, Triste, Aizen thought from his seat, let's see what you can do.

Gantenbainne strode forward cautiously, waiting for an attack, but Triste seemed more occupied with her zanpakutou, holding it delicately in her hands as she gave it her full attention.

Horus, I don't want to fight…

"It's all right, Triste, nothing can touch you while I'm around. I will protect you and give you the strength to defeat your enemies. If I can, I shall to adhere to your beliefs."

All watched as Gantenbainne made the initiative, charging forward with his fists powered up…

My beliefs… The code by which I have lived by since I first came to Hueco Mundo… what good is it anymore in such a world as this?

All stared in disbelief as his fist struck dead on, punching her full in the abdomen… and yet she did not react to him, still intent on her sword as her body only slid about four feet in the sand, still standing.

"It is everything, Triste. You did horrendous things as a savage Hollow, but you learned to keep your victims alive, and in the end, you did what you could to save that boy…" Triste's eyes widened instantly. "Yes, I know about that. I have watched over you since day one, and even though you left the mortal world, I could still sense you here in Hueco Mundo… I know of you Triste, my child of the sand… Do you remember me?"

Gantenbainne just blinked curiously as Triste continued to ignore him, completely unfazed by the blow she was struck. He had a bad feeling this could be a dangerous fight…

Just then, Triste finally looked up from her sword, staring back at the man with the afro with just as quizzical a look. He watched as she lowered her sword finally and began tying it to her belt, securing it tightly before meeting his gaze once again. She was ready now.

Again, Gantenbainne prepared to attack, still confused by this Arrancar, who seemed ready yet did not move. Nevertheless, he charged forward once again and punched her in the shoulder, causing her to skid another few feet but still unfazed. What is she? It's like she doesn't even acknowledge my hits!

From the balcony, Aizen watched ever closely…

Now he was getting angry. The least she could do was acknowledge him! He charged in again, ready to hit with more force… but this time she dodged. Again he struck out and again she dodged.

Again and again, Gantenbainne threw his special punches at her, but none seemed to have any effect. Rage growing, the Priveron pulled out his Ciento Punches, only to watch in amazement as she either dodged or deflecting every single one of them without even breaking a sweat. On the final blow, her hand caught his wrist; his surprised eyes only able to stare into her one, calm amethyst.

"It would appear she's finally grown accustomed to that form!" Gin grinned.

"Yes, but let's see what she does with it," Aizen replied, interested in what she might do now that she seemed ready to attack. Beside him, Ulquiorra stared, also mildly curious…

Wrist in hand, Triste flipped over Gantenbainne's head, bringing his arm around with her in a most painful direction; as her feet came down, she kicked at his shoulders, forcing him face-first into the sand. As she landed, one foot on his back, she gave his arm a horrible twist, producing the heart-wrenching sound of breaking bones – a sound that thrilled most Hollow. She had broken his elbow and wrist, and dislocated his shoulder.

A painful yelp rose up from the beaten Gantenbainne, while the rest of the Arrancar cheered rather heartily. Some, however, felt disappointed in the fact that she did not finish him off. Upon damaging his arm, she merely walked away from him.

Triste was already heading back towards the balcony, ready to make the jump and leave this nonsense behind when, to her dismay, she caught sight of Tousen signaling to someone in the crowd.

Shortly after, the ground shook as another Arrancar hopped into the arena.

The crowd's cheers did not falter with his presence, the Arrancar actually laughing to himself as he popped his knuckles eagerly.

Her eye slowly came around to look upon her new opponent, finding a massive Hollow standing there, grinning rather stupidly. "So! We meet again!" he smiled smugly. "Time to pay you back for earlier!" Yammy growled.

Triste's expression did not change. They don't waste any time, do they? They see I'm stronger than a Priveron so they throw an Espada at me. If they make me keep fighting, who knows who'll come out next…?

Triste slowly came back around to face him head on, taking it upon herself to move a little closer, but not much, waiting until some Helpers removed Gantenbainne from the field. Her fingers fiddled with her sword.

"What's the matter?" Yammy called, "Need to draw your sword already?!"

"Hmph. I wouldn't need his help with the likes of you."

Yammy, instantly offended, made a small battle cry as he charged after her.

Ulquiorra sighed; He'll never learn, will he? Besides, simple fighting types like Gantenbainne and Yammy are not suited to fight someone like Triste. I believe Aizen-sama would be the only one to truly defeat her if they were to fight… his eyes glanced over at Gin, whose smile seemed genuine as he watched. Or perhaps a surprise attack from someone close…

Just like Gantenbainne, Yammy's fist made direct contact with Triste's torso, his enormous hand nearly covering its entirety. But like Gantenbainne, Triste let him hit her; her body slid about ten feet this time, obviously pitted against a stronger force, but no more effective for she simply continued to look at him with that vacant gaze of hers.

His following war cry was much louder, his anger reaching new heights as he unleashed his powerful cero against her, the large blast flaring brilliantly as it approached her at such an enormous speed…

Above them, Aizen and Gin's smiles seemed to broaden.

The cero, as powerful as it was, had absolutely no effect on her.

She stood as calmly as ever in its path, but as it drew closer, her body was surrounded by a pink aura, something very few of the witnesses recognized. The aura expanded to the same expanse of the cero, acting as one large shield that stopped every inch of the blast from getting past Triste.

Everyone watched in, at least slight, awe as the thin, translucent pink shield took the blast with little to no effort. And as they continued to watch, they found the pink aura was beginning to swirl, transforming into a sort of tornado, sucking the cero in and funneling it straight into Triste's body.

An eerie silence befell the 'stadium' as the last of the cero was sucked into her body, the pink aura disappearing with it. Yammy stood, apparently shaken up, while Triste acted as if nothing ever happened.

Suddenly, her body disappeared.

Yammy's eyes widened: Sonido!!

By the time he sensed her movements, it was already too late. She reappeared right behind him, suspended in midair as she twisted her body around, allowing her foot to make contact with the back of Yammy's head.

Everyone could hear the impact of her foot against his thick skull, sending him flying across the sands, eventually slamming into a far wall where several bystanders had been, just barely escaping Yammy's projectile body.

That aura of hers protected her completely before absorbing the attack, transferring its energy directly into her body… Surely Sonido could not have done this to her? Aizen wondered, watching closely.

After kicking Yammy into the distance, she had dropped to the sand easily on one knee, but she seemed to be having some difficulty; her body appeared to be shaking, while one of her hands was pressed over her lost eye.

That cero… Triste thought to herself, it was definitely stronger than most. But my aura does not usually react like that – it shouldn't have had enough power to deflect it AND absorb it… Horus?

"Yes, Triste, it is because of me." Her sword replied easily. "How are you feeling?"

All right, I suppose… But I think I lost more energy in that attempt than I gained… and my eye is starting to hurt again…

"Come, let us leave and rest for a bit. Perhaps Ulquiorra will still have food brought to your room – that will help ease the tension."

Agreeing with the second voice in her head, Triste came back up to a stand calmly, no longer trembling. Her eyes trailed up to the balcony, finding Tousen's usual blind gaze, Gin's usual grin, and Aizen's entertained smirk. Beside them, Ulquiorra was staring just as indifferently as ever; when they met eyes for but a few seconds, Ulquiorra was instantly aware of her intentions.

Ulquiorra turned away from the balcony edge, hands in pocket as always, giving him his casual walk.

"And where are you off to, Ulquiorra?"

He stopped slowly at Aizen's call, turning to find one of his eyes looking back at him carefully, though still entertained from Triste's performance. But Ulquiorra was not at all perturbed. "Do you intend on continuing this display?"

He did not answer, but his eyes seemed to narrow just slightly.

Ulquiorra faced forward again; "It would be better to stop now, and allow her to eat. If you mean to push her further, continue this another day or it will only hurt your cause."

Some of the smile disappeared as he considered Ulquiorra's words.

"It looks like it may be too late for that."

Both glanced Gin's way as he spoke, finding him still watching the field; when they followed his eyes, they found the same problem he did.

Triste was walking away, seeing an exit beyond the crowd; Finally, I can take a break from all of this…

"… Triste!!"

She turned on the spot, her arms crossing to defend against the fist that flew at her face. Her eyes widened: "You!"

"Not leaving already, are you?!" he smiled wickedly just before throwing another punch.

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. Grimmjow.

Triste blocked his punches repeatedly, sensing the considerable strength difference compared to Gantenbainne or Yammy, feeling her energy slipping away with every blow. Unlike the others, she could not ignore his hits so easily.

Is this the difference between numbers? Can a few measly numbers make such a huge difference?!

A powerful kick sent her skidding several feet, her breath growing heavy. She glared up at his wicked grin; "Stop this. I'm not fighting anymore."

"Why? Too scared to fight me?! I thought you said you could beat Ulquiorra!"

"I don't want to fight! Especially against a warmonger like you!"

A powerful kick sent her flying about thirty feet through the sand, sliding on one hand and foot as she skidded through the sand, an even pant to her breath now.

"What happened to you? Before, you were calling me a puppet, and yet here you are just as maskless as me! What changed?" he mocked as he strode forward cockily.

"Shall I stop him?" Tousen inquired. Ulquiorra and Gin turned to Aizen, waiting to hear his answer, but his eyes were fixed on Grimmjow and Triste.

"No, not just yet. I want to see what she'll do…"

Grimmjow was upon her by the time she pushed herself back up, her body unstable. His eyes glared down at her as he stood cockily; "Ch… What a waste of time. You may have beat Yammy, but it looks like that's as far as you'll get. You were right all along – you aren't a threat."

Triste did not reply, keeping her head hanging as her body attempted to calm itself. Her hair dangled loosely and her arms hung limply at her sides.

He scowled in contempt, pissed off that he had actually been interested in fighting her. He had watched the other two bouts, increasing the desire to face her, especially after seeing how she handled that cero. This was supposed to be fun!!

"Come on!!" Grimmjow exclaimed, wanting to throw another punch or at least kick her again out of frustration if not to get her to fight back. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed at her hair, pulling it up, forcing her to meet his eyes; "I thought you were going to show me fear!"

Grimmjow stopped instantly, his eyes wide in suspense. What the…?

There, on her face… her burgundy eye was glaring at him with a new darkness, while the lost portion she always kept hidden was suddenly revealed to him. That eye… what the hell is it?!

He was stunned by what he saw, never seeing anything like it before. Around the rim of the eye was a thick shell that spiked off, greatly resembling part of a Hollow's mask with a golden glow to it, but the eye that it surrounded was out of this world. The iris was large and blue, thick lines stretching from the corners of her eyes to meet the iris in the center, while the pupil was white with a black cross in the center, like a crosshair.

It shifted about uneasily at first, completely separate from her left eye's movements, before finally fixing itself back at Grimmjow, piercing through him like an arrow.

In an instant, his head was filled with lost images and noises, voices that echoed from the past, memories that had long been forgotten or otherwise put aside. His soul lurched with several of these memories, remembering things he wished he hadn't, even recalling instances that occurred before his transformation into a Menos, before the individual known as Grimmjow was even born, tapping into the thoughts of various Hollows that had combined to form this new entity.

For as long as these instantaneous flashes went on, there was a point when Grimmjow's body trembled out of instinct.

"Is something wrong, Grimmjow?" her voice slipped out eerily as her eyes continued to bore into him; she was no longer pulling at his memories, but he was still in shock over the things that filled his mind, his soul actually recognizing every single bit. It wasn't until she began to speak that his senses were coming back around, but the sound of it made him no more comfortable than the memories had. Her voice called out again, whispering intensely with a tone more devious than a snake: "You wanted me to show you fear, didn't you? Well this is what you asked for… how does it feel? To recognize instances long since passed?"

His arm began to shake, his senses returning just enough to know that he should hate this woman, to let his rage grow and take vengeance for what she has done to him!

"It's not pleasant, is it?" she went on, her voice a little more normal this time. "Imagine seeing these things all the time, whether they're your memories or not… That is the first gift of the Eye."

Grimmjow's fury only grew, his free fist shaking with the desire to break her nose, jaw, and, even more so, her eye; "That eye… I don't know what you did to me, but you're going to regret it!!"

And then, just to piss him off even more, Triste smirked.

"Give it your best shot!"

None of the witnesses were able to hear the words exchanged between them, not even those closest to their location, while a very, very small few caught a glimpse of her eye – not enough for them to see its entirety or even make out what it was, but for those who caught sight of the pupil, they too felt their souls tremble. They did not undergo the same torture as Grimmjow, for her eye was not focused on any of them, but they felt their insides go cold just the same.

"What do you suppose is happening?" Gin cocked his head, a little disappointed by the sudden stop in action. "Can anyone hear them?"

None answered, for none could, but their desire to know was just as great. Ulquiorra was the only one with the slightest hint of what was happening, and only because his senses could feel the familiar aura that leaked from Triste's eye, recognizing the power of the lost king. Grimmjow had seen it, he was sure, and was now using all of his mental power to overcome the effects of the great eye.

Their interest was suddenly piqued once again as Grimmjow was sent flying backwards, skidding through the sand like Triste had done so many times before, while Triste herself was found flipping in the air elegantly before landing on her feet, standing tall and firm once again.

She began striding towards him, her hair covering up most of her eye again, but portions were still visible. Grimmjow simply waited, unable to understand the sudden change in her and still confused by that wicked eye he had seen.

She stopped just several feet from him, glaring at him wickedly: "I still feel no regret."

"It would appear Triste has finally resolved to fight," Tousen muttered under his breath.

Grimmjow soon began throwing a barrage of punches and kicks, much like the other two, and Triste was deflecting every single one of them without so much as a sweat. It seemed strange though, Gin noticed, considering how exhausted she looked at the beginning of Grimmjow's assault, and how she now seemed refreshed and able to fight. I wonder if this is connected to her inability to be killed?

Beside him, Aizen was also considering her sudden recovery, while Ulquiorra knew it was her eye that had given her the second wind. Unlike the past though, when he had seen her use its power, she would use the eye's strength to fight. But now it was different: now she was fighting him with her own might and the eye was merely a safeguard.

After a short while of defending against his enraged assault, Triste was beginning to throw punches back. Grimmjow defended against them just the same, but soon it was turning into a real battle of brawn with fists and kicks flying from both directions, both parties having to know when to attack and when to dodge.

Aizen was smiling to himself once again as he watched their high-speed battle closely. This is getting to be pretty impressive… She is proving to be quite capable in close-combat, and that leeching ability of hers is able to absorb high-powered attacks. She will be quite an asset in achieving our goals… he thought to himself, actually feeling a sort of pride to think of her as part of the Espada, already able to see her overwhelming many of Soul Society's specialists. However, he could not help but think about Ulquiorra's words. Though she was performing excellently, he was reminded of the risk: "If you mean to push her further, continue this another day or it will only hurt your cause."

"Hmm?"

Grimmjow was perhaps the best person to fight her hand-to-hand like this, to bring out her full potential with his undying bloodlust. Despite her increasing attacks, he was keeping up flawlessly. But after so long, it was getting rougher, and her attacks were intensifying dramatically.