Content Warning: Character death.

Catastrophe Theory

A Bleach Fanfic

Chaos Theory AU

Chapter Twenty-One: The Limit

Isane was quite nearly elbow-deep in blood when Kira's message came through. Her mouth tightened; thinking about Momo's condition wasn't going to help her deal with Ikakku's injuries. Fortunately, Yumichika had finished his fight quite quickly, and was now dealing with Ikkaku's gigantic opponent while she tried to make sure the Eleventh Division didn't lose their third seat to his injuries.

Iemura had moved to reinforce the pillars with the devices the Twelfth had made to stabilize the transfer kidō should things get dicey. There wasn't a much better word for what they were now. Everyone was fighting, and from the number of reiatsu signatures she could pick out, they were outnumbered on top of that. If the Arrancar were really strong enough that one of them could do this to Ikkaku…

She shook her head slightly. This wasn't the time to think about that. She redoubled her concentration, keeping the flow of reiatsu steady through her arms. The flesh-mending kaidō was all that was left; Isane had been healing long enough that she could practically do it in her sleep. But still—there was no point in taking unnecessary risks; she gave the task the focus it deserved.

Slowly, Ikkaku's body knit itself back together underneath her. It was strange, but the fact that she'd had to patch him up so many times in the past—after practice matches or training or whatever else the Eleventh got up to—made it easier to do so now. Everyone's reiatsu was different, but she knew Ikkaku's well. Carefully, Isane passed her hands down the air just over his abdomen, skin melding closed in her wake. She'd only done a partial reiatsu restoration—she couldn't risk any more than that, or she might not have enough left for any future injuries.

There wasn't even a question about whether there would be future injuries. There would. And until the triage teams managed to get organized and deployed, she and Iemura were the only healers on the field.

"Don't move around too much unless you absolutely have to," she advised. When Ikkaku looked about half a second away from protesting, Isane tried to channel a little of her captain's infamous polite menace. "Ikkaku-san. I'm serious. If you get yourself injured again, I will have wasted this reiatsu. I can't afford that. We can't."

For perhaps the first time Isane could recall, it might be a good thing that the Eleventh liked to do things one-on-one. Ikkaku wouldn't interfere in Yumichika's fight. Hopefully that did turn out to be good news, and she wouldn't be rushing back here in ten minutes with another friend in critical condition.

Speaking of… she had to get a move on. Pulling off her bloodied gloves, Isane tossed them aside and sought Kira's reiatsu. He'd be nearby Momo still—but hers was so weak that Isane couldn't detect it. Not from this far, anyway.

With a small hop, she stepped into shunpō. She'd been working on her battlefield mindfulness, and Renji had provided several pointers on being ready for attacks even when things seemed clear. That was probably the only reason her hand was on her zanpakutō.

Which was in turn probably the only reason she survived the ambush.

A dull whistle cut through the air. Isane reacted automatically, pulling Itegumo free of his sheath and blocking with both hands. The impact was still heavy enough that her arms jarred; she absorbed most of the force by allowing her elbows to bend slightly. Sliding out from underneath the attack, she sidestepped into a reflexive counter—but her attacker easily swatted it aside.

"Heh. Here I thought I was just going to take your head off in one hit." The speaker was dressed like all the other Arrancar. He was more than half a foot shorter than her, but then so were most people. The mask he had was on top of his head, except for two really big fangs, which framed either side of his face to just beneath his chin.

Isane took a steadying breath. She wasn't really a combatant—she was a medic, and that was just the way of things. If there were a choice, she would leave this fight and go to help Momo and Kira. But she didn't have a choice—she had to be both right now. "S-stand aside," she said, keeping her tone level and mild as possible. "I have no desire to fight you. All I want is to get to my allies on the other side of the field."

One side of the Arrancar's mouth pulled up. "You think I care? Baraggan-sama told me to engage, and so that's what I'm going to do. Soldier, healer, civilian—what you are isn't important. The only thing that matters is that you're going to die."

Isane frowned. "I see."

"I'm Ggio Vega—I serve His Majesty Baraggan-sama."

Baraggan? Not Aizen? Isane wasn't sure what to make of that. She also wasn't too sure the introductions were really a good idea, but something about the idea of being rude, even to an opponent, didn't sit well with her. "I'm Isane Kotetsu, fukutaichō of the Fourth Division."

"Fukutaichō, huh? I'd rather have fought a captain, but I guess you'll do for now. Show me what you've got."

There wasn't really another option, and Isane wasn't inclined to waste time. "Hashire, Itegumo!"

She felt the zanpakutō's spirit respond; her sword straightened and split, two smaller blades forking out from just in front of the tsuba. The hilt in her hand cooled perceptibly; chill fog billowed off the blades—not enough to actually impede vision, though.

Vega jumped towards her, lashing out with hakuda. The kick he aimed for her neck rebounded off the flat of Itegumo's blade instead; the contact vibrated up her arms and down her spine. He could definitely hit hard.

Swinging to force him back, Isane charged a kidō in her free hand, forming a small, crackling sphere of energy. "Hadō #63: Raikōhō!" The spell surged; she thrust her hand forward, hurtling the sphere for Vega's midsection. He twisted in midair; Isane gritted her teeth and pointed at the left edge of the sphere. "Hado #1: Shō!"

The concussive blast hit where she'd aimed; like one stone hitting another, it knocked the Raikōhō off-course, sending it to the right—and into Vega. Her improvised calculation was a little off—she only caught his left half. His sleeve incinerated outright, along with most of the uniform over his torso. His skin reddened at the point of impact, smoking faintly. She could see his Hollow hole under his lungs, but his clothing had taken most of the damage.

That wasn't great news; if a raikōhō only singed him…

He scowled openly at her; a breath hissed out from between his clenched teeth. "You're going to pay for that, fukutaichō-san. Kuichigire, Tigre Estoque!"

Isane raised Itegumo, crossing her arms in front of her face to shield herself from the energy expelled by the release. She swallowed—this wasn't what she came prepared for. But… wasn't it why she'd been training? She'd said that, even if only once: her being able to defeat this Arrancar might make the difference between life and death for someone else. She couldn't second-guess herself now.

Vega's release was unusual; aside from the striped uniform and heavy braid, it really only seemed to provide him with an extra attached blade on each arm. She'd been told to expect much more animal-like characteristics. Isane wondered if there might be some other technique that accounted for the difference. Shelving the thought, she decided to deal with what was in front of her.

Like those swords. The release accelerated Vega's movements—she hadn't even noticed him shift until he was right in front of her. It was all she could do to get mostly out of the way of the strike—he still skewered her just inside the shoulder. Isane jumped back, pulling herself off the blade in the process. Healing kaidō on oneself were notoriously difficult; she clotted the injury as best she could, knowing there simply wasn't time for anything more. Vega was attacking again.

This time, she got Itegumo between herself and the first attack. Moving low, she interrupted the follow-up by stepping inside Vega's guard, striking him in the back of one knee with the side of her hand. He wobbled, but the joint didn't buckle, and he shifted his balance, back at the advantage.

Thinking quickly, Isane bound his legs with a hasty hōrin and flashed away. She could barely detect him when he moved—he was just that quick. Fortunately, she wasn't helpless against that fact.

"Mōshikaku," she muttered.

The change was instantaneous. Everything in her visual field sharpened; suddenly she could see the individual hairs on Vega's forearms, distinctly enough to count them. The way his muscles shifted as he moved became apparent; the tension he held in his shoulders as he broke free of the bakudō was obvious. She saw him coil before he sprung; this time, she met him easily, anticipating his direction and tracking him with her improved sight.

By the time he'd arced his left-hand blade downwards, she was waiting to meet it, a shakkahō in her other hand right where his chest ended up. She released it point blank, wrenching Itegumo upwards to open his guard and leave him unprotected from the blast.

"Fuck!" He jumped away, aggressively striking himself where he was still on fire in an attempt to smother the flames. "What the hell was that?"

Isane really didn't see the need to explain.

"That's it." Vega lifted his right-hand blade towards the sky.

She braced for some kind of cero or other energy technique, halfway to forming an enkōsen shield, but though the sword started to glow, he didn't make any motion to point it at her.

"El Sable del Tigre Estoque!"

Chōjirō endeavored to keep his expression neutral, though he supposed he could be forgiven for the subtle compression in the line of his mouth. He could not say whether this was truly a good idea—or rather, he could not say for certain whether Ejisai-dono would permit it. But… he could sense even through the barrier that the tide was turning against the Gotei 13. Though he had been ordered to remain here, to enforce this barrier so that the damage done to the false Karakura Town would not destroy other parts of the living world…

He regarded the eight former shinigami before him. His own thoughts on their innocence or guilt were irrelevant—both in general and in trying to assess their intentions now. But he could believe in their anger towards Aizen. Stranger alliances had been forced before.

"Very well," he said, dipping his chin to Hirako. "I advise caution, if you can find it within yourselves."

Sarugaki scowled openly. Otoribashi nodded. The rest gave him nothing by way of reaction at all. Acting in kind, he turned from them, parting the barrier in a small section so that they could enter. The curtain of golden light split and drew back, exposing the outer edge of the town—a small residential block, empty of all life.

He was about to close it behind them when the senkaimon they'd come through opened to admit one more—Tessai Tsukabishi stepped through, dressed for battle.

"Sasakibe-san," he acknowledged, glancing over Chōjirō's shoulder. "I've come to relieve you. And to inform you that Kisuke and Yoruichi will be delayed. One of the pillars fell, as I'm sure you noticed; the stabilization devices need work before they can be left unattended."

Ejisai-dono had never directly said that he was counting upon Urahara-san's eventual intervention, but Chōjirō had been his servant long enough to know that it was likely nevertheless true. While the Sōtaichō was without question the mightiest shinigami who ever lived, the price of that power was that if forced to use it all, he would destroy the very things he sought to protect. Not even this barrier would be able to contain the full measure of his capability. The news that the other option might arrive too late was dire.

"We thought that, considering the circumstances, your presence on the field might make a difference," Tsukabishi continued solemnly. "No doubt the Sōtaichō ordered you to hold this position. But that was before."

Chōjirō hesitated for only a moment longer. "I understand, Tsukabishi-san. You have my thanks." Turning from the former Grand Kidō Chief, he opened the barrier again and flashed forward into the gap.

Ryūjin Jakka could produce no fire. What already was had been smothered, and something about this boy's reiatsu was preventing him from generating any more. Even bankai was ruled out, as it required the ability to draw the flames back into the blade.

Genryūsai did not take this to eliminate his chances of destroying the Arrancar. But in the time it took to do so, there was no telling what havoc the traitor himself would be able to wreak. And with no other option, it seemed the child would indeed be his foe for now.

"Have you forgotten so easily?" He asked of Aizen.

The wretch tilted his head, inviting elaboration without deigning to say the words.

"Have you forgotten why, after all this time, I am still the Sōtaichō of the Gotei 13? In all that time, no shinigami has been born who has surpassed me. If this is what you have brought, then that fact remains true."

He held out hope that one day, one of his students would manage the feat—but until that day, he was and would remain the mightiest of his comrades. It was prudent now to remind Aizen of that as well.

Shrugging out of his shihakushō's sleeves, Genryūsai dropped into a hakuda stance. Confident that the traitor had no intention of joining the fight himself, he instead focused the majority of his attention on the childish Arrancar. "It brings me no pleasure to destroy one such as you," he said, knowing that the child likely could not understand him. "But destroy you I must."

If nothing else, he needed his zanpakutō back.

With a single flash step, Genryūsai placed himself directly in front of the boy—Wonderweiss. The momentum from the motion, he directed into his upper half, surging forward and slamming both fists into the Arrancar's side. The white armor plating on his midsection cracked with a heavy sound; Genryūsai's reiatsu pushed through it and broke off several chunks, which faded to dust in the open air.

It was then that he felt a disturbance in the barrier around the false Karakura Town, followed by several once-familiar reiatsu signatures. A hundred years, it had been, since the Central 46 condemned those eight souls to their destruction. The incident had taken another three valuable shinigami from Soul Society as well—while those three were collaborating with the Gotei 13 in this, he had not expected the eight to put in an appearance.

It didn't take long for them to arrive; the new disturbances in the reiatsu flooding the area had drawn a great deal of attention—most of the battles raging below and beside his own ceased while everyone accounted for the new factor. Immediately, six of the eight split from the group, their reiatsu changing until it resembled that of a Hollow just as much as that of a shinigami. Each of them was near or above captain-level; but it remained to be seen exactly what they would do.

A short time later, Chōjirō's reiatsu appeared on the inside of the barrier as well; he arrived at Genryūsai's side a second after the remaining two intruders stopped short of him.

"Shinji Hirako and Hiyori Sarugaki," he said gravely. With a hundred years between then and now, they had changed little on the surface. Only the expressions on their faces told of whatever the last century had been to them—the girl was barely banking her rage, and Hirako… well, he was containing his slightly better. That was all that could be said.

"My apologies, Sōtaichō," Chōjirō said, kneeling with a fist braced in front of him. "They wanted to be allowed in; I believed they might be of some assistance."

Chōjirō's judgement was steady and sound; Genryūsai knew that. So he turned his attention to Hirako instead. "May we assume by your presence here that you are allies of the Gotei 13?"

Hirako snorted, a sneer pulling across his face. "Of course not," he said immediately. "But you know… we are the enemies of Sōsuke Aizen. That's good enough for us if it's good enough for you."

Genryūsai considered that for a moment, then dipped his head. The aim of any battle was victory. He was not going to turn away the means to it. "Very well then."

"Don' rush him carelessly." Shinji glanced at Hiyori out of the corner of his eyes. With the old man dealing with that weird Arrancar kid, and the others out reinforcing the Gotei 13 in whatever way they wanted, it was the two of them against Sōsuke. At least for the moment. "It's that ability of his. If ya approach him without thinking, that'll be the end of ya."

"I know." Her knuckles turned white over the hilt of her zanpakutō.

Shinji sighed. "You idiot. If you know, then relax your grip on your sword. Ain't gonna hit nothin' right that way." He swallowed; maintaining his indifference was harder just now than it'd been in a while. Maybe because what he'd been aiming for over the last hundred years was nearly in his hands? That could be it. Hiyori felt it, too—she had to. But she wasn't as good at indifference.

"Such kind words," Sōsuke commented—his indifference was expressed as false politeness. It always had been. Even when Shinji hadn't known what his fukutaichō was hiding, he'd known he was hiding something.

He was better at being indifferent than all of 'em, by miles.

"Just what I'd expect from you, Captain Hirako."

Hiyori sucked in a breath, her scowl pulling deeper. She was tight as a wire, frayed and halfway to snapping already.

"Hiyori," he warned sharply.

Don't blow this.

"However," Sōsuke continued, almost like he was oblivious to the byplay, "this whole 'if you approach him carelessly' business sounds rather… funny." He smiled, all fake sun and warmth. "It doesn't matter if you approach me carelessly or with caution… or even if you approach me at all. All of the outcomes will be the same. I'm not talking about the future—your demise will be due to those events of the past from which you already have no way of escaping."

Hiyori growled in the back of her throat. Fuckin' shit.

"He's baiting you—don't fall for it!"

"What do you have to be afraid of?" Sōsuke was pretty much talking directly to Hiyori now—Shinji could tell.

"All of you failed Arrancar already died on that night one hundred years ago."

"Shit!" Shinji lunged, trying to restrain Hiyori, but she was mad as a bull in a china shop, and she was gone by the time he made it to her spot. His heart leaped into his throat. "Dammit, Hiyori!"

She charged Sōsuke, her rage making her easier to read than a large-print book. Shinji drew his sword and flashed after her, but at that point some part of him already knew there was no preventing what happened next.

He saw it almost in slow motion; the flicker of satisfaction across Sōsuke's face as everything lined up exactly the way he'd intended it. Hiyori's mask appeared over her face; she swung hard for Sōsuke's torso. But long before she ever had a hope of hitting, Kyoka Suigetsu was there, whistling through the air above.

There was a half a second of just… nothing. No noise that he could hear, no motion that he could see. Just two people suspended in midair. Shinji hoped that second would last, because he already knew what he'd see in the one after.

But his heart thudded again in his chest, and time caught up. A red line appeared right down the middle of Hiyori, from the top of her head to her feet. Her left side slid away from her right, wet organs exposed to the sunlight for only a second before she started to disintegrate.

"Hiyori! Hiyori!"

If wanting could have made it untrue, she'd have miraculously put herself back together right then. But Shinji landed out of his flash step in just enough time to close his fist over some of her dust. It was grainy under his fingers, and then it was gone.

"No…"

The rest of her drifted away on the breeze.

He felt it, when his creator killed that girl.

They felt it too—it was obvious in the way they faltered.

Anzparrejar had been hunting; that was what he'd chosen to do when his creator permitted him to choose. There were many weakened shinigami on the field already, wounded or depleted and easy pickings. But then these had interfered, and his fight had been chosen for him.

He hardly cared for the idea of killing three failed Arrancar—none of them interested him in any way. But they had placed themselves in front of him, and in order to move on to better opportunities, he must move through them. So be it.

In the moment their faces contorted into shock and grief and those unfathomable human emotions, Anzparrejar drew the heavy sword off his back, taking a single massive sonído step and appearing directly behind the blonde one. His mask looked like a bird.

Anzparrejar wondered if his soul would taste like one.

The failed Arrancar was faster than he seemed; he twisted just enough that Anzparrejar's blow did not slice him in two. Instead it bit deep into the shoulder muscle, and when he wrenched, the man's arm was left hanging on only by a sliver of flesh. His blood left him in a fine mist; it thickened to a heavy flow after. Some of it spattered the side of Anzparrejar's face, warm, sticky, and metallic. He could smell it even through his mask.

He felt himself start to salivate, and swallowed automatically.

Before he could end the failed Arrancar's life with a second blow, the one with the club intervened. Anzparrejar caught the blow on the edge of his cleaver; the stark metallic screech of the weapons moving against each other was annoying. Stepping away again, he reset himself in front of all three.

"You don't talk much, do you?" the club-bearer asked.

Anzparrejar had no desire to answer. When the third one—the one with the flat mask that had angled holes in it, sent a blade of air at him, he jumped away from it and took two more sonído steps to flank, hurling a line of black reiatsu from the end of his zanpakutō. It met midair with some kind of fireball from the club-man. The bird-man lashed at him with his whip, catching Anzparrejar around the ankle.

With only one hand to hold with, he could not resist when Anzparrejar kicked out, loosening the whip enough to slide it off his ankle and blocking the overhead strike from the club-man at the same time. He had to move fast to keep them from closing in on him—when they hunted as a pack like this, their teamwork was formidable.

But he also knew that all he had to do was wait three minutes or so, and they would be helpless goldfish—and he, the piranha.

"Ute, Tiburón."

Jūshirō allowed Sōgyo no Kotowari's blades to rest loosely in his hands. The resurrección's release issued a burst of water and reiatsu—Harribel cut herself out of it, and it subsided. His eyebrows inched towards his hairline; it was quite the impressive amount of water.

He supposed that when ceros and other energy attacks proved more harmful than beneficial, trying something new was just good strategy. He believed he'd demonstrated the necessity for that, and so the battle could begin in earnest.

A flare in reiatsu, followed by the sudden disappearance of it, caught his attention. Hiyori-chan was…

"La Gota!"

His inattention nearly did him in—Jūshirō had just enough time to react to the blast of water now headed in his direction. Raising both of his swords, he compressed his reiatsu at the edges and swung forward in a double slice. The water, held together by Harribel's own energy, parted down the middle and fell away to the ground below.

Jūshirō frowned. There were other battles happening down there, as well as healing. He didn't know if she could generate enough to cause a flood, but it seemed better to finish this before he found out the hard way.

"Tridente." Gathering yellow energy along the blade of her transformed sword, Harribel slashed forward, throwing the reiatsu off the blade towards him. It was much more condensed than that wide-area cero of hers; he probably shouldn't let himself be hit by it.

Fortunately, the exact form of the energy wasn't really an object. Leaning to the side, Jūshirō caught the bolt, redirected it, and fired back. The bright yellow was even more dazzling directly in front of him.

When he was hit square in the chest with a compressed water jet, he understood that that had been the point. He staggered backwards in the air, holding his breath as the water dispersed. It sank heavily into his shihakushō and his hair—just like any water would have.

"That was quite clever," he said honestly, pulling in an uncomfortable breath. The impact to his chest had not been kind to his lungs, but he went to pains to make sure he had enough air to speak without any wavering. "And here I thought you hadn't even figured out how I was shooting ceros at you."

"Redirection," she said flatly. "It's quick; if I hadn't blinded you, you'd have made it away in time."

The corner of his mouth pulled up. "A generous estimation of my capability; thank you."

She furrowed her brows—it was difficult to say with the lower half of her face covered like that, but she seemed perhaps a little frustrated. Jūshirō felt a familiar itch in his chest—he wasn't sure he had too much longer at full capacity. Pointing the right-hand sword forward, he decided to accelerate the fight before he lost it.

"Hadō #73: Sōren Sōkastsui." The twin lances of flame burst from the end of the blade, driving through the air towards Harribel.

As expected, she immediately called up more water to extinguish them. The two attacks met with a massive sizzle—a cloud of steam soon obscured the area between the combatants. Jūshirō held his breath and dove through it. One shunpō step put him beside her; Harribel's eyes rounded. He'd been so stationary up to this point that it was doubtless a surprise that he bothered to move. Still, she recovered quickly—the broadsword she carried blocked his left-hand attack, and she twisted away from the right.

"Hirviendo!"

Quite suddenly, all the water soaked through Jūshirō's clothes and hair burned; he pulled in a gasp too sharply. That immediately set off the coughing fit he'd been trying to hold at bay—great, wracking heaves shuddered in his chest. Harribel moved away, capitalizing on his moment of weakness to send another, larger blast of water at him.

Jūshirō, weakened by the burns and his lungs, was nonetheless long accustomed to pain. Pushing through it, he forced up his left hand, catching the water in the same way he'd caught the cero. Everything was fundamentally energy—this was simply energy in a different form.

He didn't get all of it—he could feel some of the water blow past him. But he caught enough. Between shudders, he lowered one arm and lifted the other, actually dropping the sword in his left hand. The water issued from the end of his right sword, headed right for her.

"Hadō—" He sucked in air, losing it immediately to the need to cough. Jūshirō tasted blood in his mouth, and tried again. "Hadō #63: Raikōhō."

Harribel likely had nothing to fear from her own water—he'd guessed she might be able to disperse what he sent back at her. But the lightning spell on its heels was another matter; accelerated by the fluid it passed through, it struck her square in the chest.

She fell.

Jūshirō's vision swam—it was too much. He'd done too much. The landscape in front of his eyes flickered, and went dark.

"Mind if we cut in?"

Izuru had no idea who these people were, or what the story was with the Hollow-like masks they wore, but considering his condition, he certainly wasn't going to complain if they wanted to help. He still had no idea if Momo was all right—something must be holding Kotetsu-san up, or she'd have been down there already.

"Be my guests," he said, unsure exactly what to expect from this. One of the women was dressed mostly in white, with an orange neckerchief or something. Her mask reminded him of an insect. The other had a long braid, a longer spade-type pole weapon, and a mask with a cross in the middle.

"Mashiro Kick!" the first one called, sailing forward with her leg thrust out to hit Ayon.

"Don't—" Izuru started, but it was a little too late.

Her hit landed, forcing Ayon's shoulder slightly back. That only seemed to draw its attention, however—almost immediately, it grabbed her out of the air in one massive fist. She squirmed in its hold; Izuru resigned himself to flashing forward and trying to weight the arm down.

"Nijū Ichijō Tonbokudari!" The second woman used their positioning to target Ayon's arm with a series of thrusting attacks with the spade, lunging forward and hammering away at Ayon's outstretched limb.

The creature swatted her away with enough force to put her through several nearby buildings, but his arm was bleeding. Izuru decided that getting the other one free was still the best option and stepped into shunpō, jumping with enough force to throw himself over the wrist. Orienting his body in midair, he tried to ignore the vertigo that came from being upside down with air rushing by on all sides, slashing quickly with Wabisuke to weigh down Ayon's hand.

He got three hits in before he passed by; the creature bent forward under the unfamiliar heft of his own body. That was, essentially, what he'd been looking for the opportunity to cause; Izuru flashed upwards towards Ayon's neck for the familiar guillotine maneuver.

Only to find himself staring down a gaping maw far bigger than it should have been. The mask it wore didn't cover its face at all—more like its nose. Ayon lunged forward, its teeth closing over Izuru's foot and crunching bone.

He choked on air, lacking enough of it to shout. Ayon lashed its head back and forth like a dog; Izuru heard at least two more snaps, but he couldn't distinguish the pain of one from the pain of the next. The creature let him go for some reason; he dropped like a stone to the ground.

From this angle, he could see why—the second woman had slashed broadly across its back. Finally, it let the first one go; though the blood staining her white jumpsuit indicated more injury than he could otherwise see, she still flashed forward. This time, she landed a punch on Ayon's mask at the same moment as Izuru hit the ground.

He was powerless to do much but watch after that—they fought with a power he could scarcely understand—it was probably about what he'd expect a captain to have, but… some of the energy was definitely Hollow reiatsu. Were they Arrancar? If so, why fight their own kind?

Ayon swatted at them like they were flies; but they were definitely biting him. Izuru was almost certain they'd succeed in bringing the chimera down.

Until their masks cracked off their faces. Much of their reiatsu suddenly disappeared—abruptly, they were no stronger than him.

The results were immediate. Ayon grabbed both out of midair and threw them onto the ground. The concrete beneath them cracked and shattered with the force of the impacts, and the massive giant raised one of its feet to crush them.

"Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō!" Izuru scrambled to help, firing off the kidō from the ground where he lay, unable to move much.

The beams of light slammed into the chimera, holding it in place just long enough for the one with the polearm to set it against the ground and angle it up. When the bakudō broke, Ayon impaled his own foot on the spade end, all the way down to the ground, where the girl in white pulled her friend out from underneath the danger zone.

As if in slow motion, Ayon tilted to the side, topping like a building—and into several of them. When the dust settled, the creature did not stir.

Term Dictionary:

Tigre Estoque – 虎牙迅風 – The kanji are "Tiger Fang Swift Wind." The Spanish comes out to "Tiger Rapier." This is Vega's zanpakutō. The release command is kuichigire (食い千切れ), the imperative of "to bite off." As far as resurreccións go, it doesn't actually change his appearance that drastically, though it has a special technique, El Sable del Tigre Estoque (虎牙迅風·大劍), which in kanji is "Tiger Fang Swift Wind Great Swords." As the original Spanish from canon is… weirdly done, I changed it so the words mean "The Saber of the Tiger Rapier," which still isn't that sensical but at least counts as grammatical, I think.

Itegumo – 凍雲 – "Frozen Cloud." Isane's zanpakutō. The release command is hashire (奔れ), the imperative of "to run." Since we get no details on any of its abilities in canon, I've kept the shape and made up the rest myself.

Mōshikaku –盲視覚– "Blind Sight." One of Itegumo's shikai abilities. By using this ability, Isane is able to enhance her senses to the point of being able to perceive things well beyond normal limitations. She can, for example, see in utter darkness or hear the way someone's blood is moving through their body. The data can be overwhelming, and as such, she usually only enhances one sense at a time; the ability is useful for diagnostic purposes and finer healing abilities as well as more violent applications, such as detecting the minute motions a person's muscle makes before the movement is otherwise visible. With that information and her knowledge of how the humanoid body works, she can predict how her opponents are going to act a few seconds before they actually do so. This leads to the common misinterpretation of the skill as either mindreading or precognition.

Tiburón – 皇鮫后 – The kanji are "Imperial Shark Empress," and the Spanish is "Shark." Harribel's resurrección. The release command is ute (討て) the imperative of "to destroy." In this form, Harribel's sword gets a lot bigger and more solid, and she can control water with it, as well as use various energy attacks.

La Gota – 戦雫 – "War Drop," are the kanji and the Spanish is just "The Drop." Harribel condenses a large amount of water around her blade before firing it as a blast which resembles a shark tooth.

Tridente – No kanji here, just the Spanish, which comes out to "trident." A technique in which Harribel produces a large burst of bright reiatsu from Tiburón's blade. She uses it to cut Hitsugaya's replica in half in canon.

Hirviendo – 灼海流 – The kanji are "Burning Current." The Spanish is "Boiling." A technique in which Harribel heats any water which comes close to her sword. As Ukitake was already soaked here, she basically just boiled the water in his clothes and hair.

Nijū Ichijō Tonbokudari – 二十一条蜻蛉下り – "Twenty-First Article: Dragonfly Landing." A shikai technique of Lisa's; she stabs an opponent multiple times in quick succession.

Whew! Another chapter down. And... another death to add to the tally. It seems likely that without Gin to preempt by bisecting Hiyori in a survivable way that Unohana then somehow fixes... she was pretty much a goner. :/ You just don't recklessly charge a dude like Aizen.

Probably out of all the parts of this chapter, I had the most fun with Isane. Making stuff up for her shikai was cool; I might have to find an excuse to use its other technique, too. :)