The Death and Life of Erza Scarlet

by Goshinzilla

Death is only the beginning. Erza learns that much at the tower of heaven. But the afterlife, it turns out, isn't much better than life, with all its flaws. As she becomes a shinigami, Erza seeks to make a better world- but Aizen has the same idea... (ErzaXMomo)

63. Nube Negra

Before we begin, I have some words from our writer, Greatkingrat88. Their more or less the same as mine.

"Hey, it's that time of year again! Merry pagan-holiday-appropriated-by-christianity-in-the-middle-ages, everyone! I hope your pagan-holiday-appropr- screw it, I hope all your christmases will be great- and when you're done gorging yourself on hams, or turkeys, or whatever other artery-choking foods we all can't resist, once you've settled into that nice christmas spirit and have a moment to yourself... then feel free to enjoy this latest chapter. What with the time of the year being so busy, it's just the one for this month, but to compensate I made sure to make it extra long. Enjoy, and as usual, feel free to tell us what went wrong in the form of a review. Season's greetings, and see you all next year!"

Well said. Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukah, happy Quanza, Happy Holidays, and if those some how offended you then happy shut up.

We have quite the chapter here, with action and drama abound, as well as the beginning of some character grown for certain characters. Some of you may be confused though why some of the fights go the way they do however, or why their a bit different. I assure you that there are logical reasons why as opposed to us "just trying something different." However, Ill tell you all how and why, once you finish the chapter itself.

Thanks once again to Greatkingrat88 (for writing) and jcampbellohten (for being our Beta)

Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo and Shounen jump. Fairy tail is owned by Hiro Mashima and Weekly Shounen Magazine. I own NOTHING. This is all just for fun.

---

At dawn, just as Erza had decided, the group assembled. Unsurprisingly, Soifon and Byakuya were both there ahead of time; workaholics that they were, Erza wondered if they slept at all. Isane and Nemu followed after, Erza having convinced the both of them with little effort the preceding evening. Before long, the entire group had assembled, Rangiku- also unsurprisingly- having come in last, yawned like her jaws were about to dislocate.

They had headed to the senkaimon terminal in silence. The world was grey, dimmed by the colourless dawn, and although Erza was no stranger to being up early, she still felt more than a little sluggish, the stress of recent events still hanging over her. As they stopped before a gateway, an attendant setting the co-ordinates for Karakura Town, Erza faced down her team. They were about to head out on a mission, after all, and some things needed to be said.

"I don't need to tell any of you to look sharp and be prepared for the worst. You know we're entering the early stages of a war, and that lives will be at stakes. We're all captains and vice-captains here, the best of the best, and I'm going to assume all of you will act like it. This mission might be no action at all, or it might be dangerous and violent. Some of us could die. All of us, in the worst case. Our mission is simply to observe, to stand guard, to gather any relevant information and stand by until we are needed. If Aizen makes a move, we will be ready. We will have to assume he will have some way of being aware of our presence- do not be sure we have the element of surprise. We might have, but we might not. We will first head to Urahara Kisuke, who will supply us all with gigai to use. From there on, we will split into small groups to keep a low profile. Nozomi, Nemu and Isane, you're here as science advisors and medical support, so avoid direct action unless absolutely necessary. Soifon, you will busy yourself with intelligence, will you not?"

"I am setting up a command central as soon as possible," Soifon confirmed, "a number of elite operatives will be aiding me in establishing an information network about activities in Karakura."

Erza nodded, "Then I'll leave you to it. Captain Kuchiki, Rukia, you make one group. Isane, Nemu, Momo, you're with me. Rangiku, Nozomi, you will have to find lodging elsewhere. Understood?"

There was a chorus of affirmatives, simple 'yes' calls or nods in the case of Byakuya.

"We will maintain communication updates hourly. If somebody is late to confirm their status as normal, we will assume something has gone wrong, so don't be late."

She turned her gaze to Byakuya.

"I will need somebody ready to assume command in the event of my death or any other absence," she said, "I might otherwise have picked captain Soifon. But as she will have a specialised task, and as you are the most experienced among us, I ask that it be you, captain Kuchiki."

"I accept," said Byakuya neutrally.

Erza nodded.
"Good, then. Everyone clear on what they're going to do?"

There was a loud, affirmative 'yes' from the group, even Byakuya joining in. Erza nodded approvingly. They were good officers, all. She just hoped that would be enough, if the worst occurred.

"Ma'am, Captain Erza?" said the senkaimon attendant nervously, "the portal is ready. At your leisure, ma'am."

Erza turned around, and faced the senkaimon.

"Move out," she ordered, and stepped through the portal, her colleagues following closely behind.

As agreed, they had first stopped by Urahara Kisuke's shop, the shopkeeper being all too pleased to take the Gotei's money after Erza had given him the heads up last night. They were each given a gigai, complete with soul pill, each body being well crafted- and shamelessly expensive, of course. Even with the expert craftsmanship involved, Erza felt sure he was overcharging, but the captain-commander hadn't had a problem with the order, and if he was ready to foot the bill, then it was all the same to her. She herself had gotten an upgraded model, and after all of them had gotten their bodies, they assembled outside the store. It was an odd sight, all of these officers in normal, modern-day clothing; Byakuya in a simple suit, Soifon in a blouse and skirt...

Bizarre as it was, they still had a mission.

"All right, we're all set," she said, staring down the group, "I want you all to spread out, but keep within a few miles of each other, just to make sure at least one group can respond quickly to any threat. We'll maintain contact through hell butterflies for the moment. My team will stay at my place, and the rest of you, find lodgings for yourselves. We'll reconvene tonight at seven o'clock sharp, right here. Understood?"

The group voiced an affirmative.

"Good. Move out!" Erza ordered. It looked a lot less dramatic, walking away in a human-looking body, but the team dispersed as ordered.

---

Rangiku's steps took her directly toward the Kurosaki residence, after having procured the general direction from Erza. Finding it wasn't too difficult; she could sense Masaki's reiatsu signature from afar, familiar from when she had first spoken to the woman in the Soul Society.

Her gigai was, she decided, very unfashionably dressed, something that had to be amended later. Jeans and a baggy shirt? That shopkeeper might be a genial engineer or whatever, but he seemed to have no fashion taste. But it was of no consequence. Right now, she had bigger concerns. This was a mission, sure, but what was first and foremost on her mind was... Isshin. Shiba Isshin. Kurosaki Isshin. Her captain, a man she had looked up to, mourned like he was dead...
With all that had happened, it had slid to the sidelines just a little, especially with Gin- now there was a wound she wasn't keen to revisit- but if she could get some resolution on one blast from the past, then she might as well go for it.

She found the house without too much trouble, going by the signatures she remembered- Masaki's, and when she got much closer, Ichigo's, oddly weaker than before. She sensed three more, two new to her and one... one very familiar. It was still very early, and it seemed she was lucky enough to have caught them before they headed out to work, to school. She took a deep breath, stepped up toward the door, raised a hand to knock, and paused.
It seemed so odd. To just... walk up to somebody like that, somebody she thought lost, and then what? Talk to them like nothing had happened? Part of her really wanted to. As a captain, he had been a hassle, a mixture of necessary competence and obnoxious childishness, but all around loveable and impossible to dislike. Losing him had hurt. How would she feel, seeing him again? Would she break down in tears? Would she feel overjoyed?

After hesitating a second time, her hand wavering uneasily in the air, she finally knocked on the door once, twice. She tapped her foot impatiently, wondering if she should rap at the door again. No- she didn't want to seem too eager. Just as she got impatient and raised her hand for a second knock, she heard steps, and a second later, the door opened. It was Ichigo, who gave her a confused look. Then, he shrugged, as if remembering that odd things weren't all that odd anymore.

"Uh, hi," he said, "Rangiku, right? You look... different."

"Gigai," Rangiku explained.

"Gotcha," said Ichigo, "so..."

"Could I come inside?" Rangiku said quickly, "I'm not here on official business or anything, it's just... stuff."

"Sure, whatever," Ichigo said, "I got to get to school soon, so I can't stay, but by all means."

He opened the door wide and she stepped inside, taking a look around. It looked like a perfectly ordinary home, as far as the strange, different homes of this world went, but she had no interest in analysing décor right now.

"Vice-captain Matusmoto."

The voice, coming from the kitchen's doorway, was Masaki's. She was looking at Rangiku, a bit surprised, then gave her a smile.

"Call me Rangiku, please," said Rangiku, trying her best to sound friendly. Despite some of the awkwardness between them in the past, her impression of the quincy was overall positive.

"How have you been?"

"Oh, you know, same old, same old. Well, I suppose you wouldn't know how that goes for us, but things have gone... pretty well, all things considered."

"I'm sure you have a handle on things," Masaki said warmly. The two exchanged a quick bit of small talk, a bit of social lubricant to get the conversation going, but before long, Masaki added,

"Not to be blunt, but... what brings you here?"

"Well..." said Rangiku. At first, she was unsure of how to spin it, but decided on the full truth; this was their city and they deserved to know what was going on. They were allies, after all.
"It's a military operation," she explained, "Aizen Sousuke is stepping up his aggression, so I'm here as part of a team to... ensure the safety of this town."

"Oh... oh my goodness," Masaki murmured, sounding worried, "Oh, crap..."

"We're pretty good at safety," said Rangiku encouragingly.

"It's just..." Masaki groaned, "I'm going out of town for a couple of days. My boss is going on a business trip, and she needed an assistant... but now, I... I don't want to leave if... I mean, what if..."

Rangiku could imagine her concern. In her family, Masaki was the only one strong enough to possibly match an arrancar, and leaving them now, even briefly, was sure to be stressful.

"You can't call it off?"

Masaki sighed.
"Isshin's clinic is doing well enough, but not so well I can quit my job. Calling it off last second... that's not going to look good."

"Listen," Rangiku said reassuringly, "we're here with three captains, including Erza. The town is in good hands. If anything comes here, we'll be able to respond within minutes. This place is more heavily guarded right now than it ever has been."

For a second, Masaki seemed to weigh it, relief and unease both playing across her face.
"You said Erza is here?"

Rangiku nodded.
"And captains Soifon and Kuchiki, both renowned for their skill and professionalism."

"Kuchiki..." Masaki said sourly, and Rangiku remembered that Masaki had once nearly been killed by him.

"We're safe, trust me."

Masaki sighed again.
"Well, if you're sure..."

"I am," Rangiku said, nodding enthusiastically, "and if I recall, your son isn't too weak himself."

"I know, but... you know, I worry."

"Of course you do," said Rangiku with a nod, "it's a mother's job, right?"

"Like you have no idea..." Masaki muttered, and smiled meekly, "Well, all right then. Will you keep me posted? I'll be gone for three days, tops, but I'd like to know how things go."

"Sure," said Rangiku.

"Erza has my phone number," said Masaki, "so ask her. For now... I kind of have to go."

"I understand," said Rangiku, "now..."

"I imagined you didn't come here just to deliver a report," said Masaki, "Isshin is in the living room. He's lucky enough to work almost right from home, and the clinic doesn't open for another hour... so you can go ahead and say what you've got to say. Right that way," she said, gesturing with a finger.

"Thank you," said Rangiku.

"It's all good. Now, I really have to rush, take the kids to school and all... see you later." She turned to the stairwell, and shouted, "Yuzu, Karin, we're leaving right now!"

Rangiku heard the clatter of feet hurrying down the stairs, but her eyes were focused elsewhere. Just around the corner, there he would be...
Hesitating wouldn't help. Decisively, she put one foot in front of the other, and marched right toward the living room. There was Isshin, sat in a comfortable chair, watching TV. Rangiku, not sure what to do, simply stood herself next to the TV, staring him down, waiting for him to react.

It took a second; perhaps he had mistaken her for Masaki, but then he looked up, and his eyes widened a little. He reached for the remote, and at the press of a button, the TV went dark.

"Oh," he said.

"Oh," said Rangiku, "over twenty years gone, and an 'oh' is what I get?"

Isshin, all pretence of joviality dropped, stood up from his chair and looked her in the eye. What she felt, she realised when she looked at him, wasn't the kind of emotional overload that called for tears, or joy. Looking at him, sitting there in his chair looking like some normal human, in sweatpants and a worn t-shirt, was anger. Without even realising what she was doing, without it registering until a second after it happened, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face.
Isshin took the hit like a man, barely flinching, and put a hand to his left cheek, where her palm had left a mark that had already begun to redden.

"I suppose... I deserved that," he mumbled.

"You're goddamn right you did," Rangiku said, her voice brimming with cold, rising anger. It wasn't sudden; it was starting slowly like a dam with a small crack in it, but it was rising, and it might burst- and she didn't want that.
"Over twenty years, everyone thought you were dead. I mourned the loss of somebody I thought was a good man. Everyone in the division was beside themselves, because even though you were an idiot, you were a good leader. Best we had in a long time. And that was just the division! You had a family, Isshin!"

She was getting herself worked up. She had started to boil now, the dam cracking, water flooding through. If she wasn't careful, she would start screaming, and then there would be no point to it. She wanted answers, after all. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

"Did you ever think what your own people must have felt?!" she continued angrily, "Did you ever think what your cousin Kukaku- who had to take charge of a failing, losing noble house going into free fall, not that you seemed to care- must have felt? And here you were alive all this time, with a wife and kids, leaving everything behind!"

She balled her fists, and a very large part of her wanted to use them.

"Yeah," Isshin said seriously, "I did all those things. They were shit things to do, but-"

"No buts!" she snarled, "There is not a single but in the world that can make this okay!"

"...you're right, there ain't," Isshin said grimly.

"So what, then?!" Rangiku demanded.

"I get that you're angry-"

"I'm fucking furious, you absolute moron!"

"Yeah!" Isshin said sharply, "And I get why. All these things you said... you think I haven't thought about that? For years and years, every day?"

"Not hard enough, apparently!"

"I lost everything, Rangiku!" Isshin said urgently, "I lost my powers. This weird... hollow, some experiment of Aizen's, it drained me of everything that made me a shinigami. I haven't heard the voice of my zanpakutou since that day, you know that? If I had come back, I'd have come back a broken man unfit to be even a foot soldier, let alone a captain. My house would have been dishonoured and fallen from grace all the same, and they would have been saddled with a useless cripple. That's reality, Rangiku!"

"Isn't that convenient?" said Rangiku, unwilling to let go so easily.

"It's not convenient," said Isshin gravely, "don't you think I'd rather have come back? Don't you think I'd rather have had my powers? After all the years you knew me, do you think I'd just... throw it all away on a whim?"

Rangiku paused for just a second, but unwilling to let go, she continued,
"You were alive and you let us think you were dead. That's not- that's not okay, Isshin!"

"It isn't!" Isshin burst out, "But..."
He sighed, took a deep breath, and after a pause he continued, his voice sounding forcibly calm,

"I was a captain and the head of my house. The responsibility... what I owed everyone, what they expected of me all the time, do you realise what that is like?"

"I am a vice-captain," Rangiku said sullenly.

"Then you have an idea. Imagine coming back to all that, looking them in the eye and telling them you can't live up to any of it anymore, not ever again. Being captain, being clan head, being in charge and keeping things right, that was who I was, Rangiku! It was everything to me, and it was taken from me! Imagine living the rest of your life in shame because you're useless, a barnacle on a failing house. I... I saw that future, and I decided it was better if you all thought I died in action, with my honour intact. Maybe that was selfish, but at the time, I didn't see any other option. I didn't do it lightly, and... I didn't forget the people I left behind either. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I'm sorry, Rangiku, I really am, but I'd do the same if I had to do it all over again."

Rangiku looked him in the eye, her heart racing, her anger becoming mixed up with sympathy. That he had been alive all this time, having left them... that still hurt, but she understood. Partly, at least. He'd shouldered a great responsibility, one very few people could understand, and to have that taken away all of a sudden...

Well, she wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

"You could have told some of us," she said stubbornly, "you could have told me. You could have told your family. We deserved to know the truth."

"I could have got a message out, sure," he said with a nod, "but by the time I stopped feeling like shit, by the time I started accepting it, I was already married with a kid on the way. I... that's kind of illegal, and... Rangiku, you know what could have happened."

Rangiku swallowed. He would have faced trial for desertion. His wife and child... they could have died or worse. They could have been sent to Twelfth Division.
"It's a raw deal," said Isshin quietly, "for me and for the people I left behind. It ain't fair, but that's life. I don't hold your anger against you, but there's nothing to be done about it. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Rangiku groaned, and shook her head.

"That last bit... that's true," she muttered angrily, "sonofabitch!"

"You could always slap me again," said Isshin encouragingly. Rangiku raised her hand, and Isshin quickly reeled back.
"I was just kidding! Damn, woman, I can still feel my ear ringing from that last hit!"

"You deserve it!" Rangiku snapped.

"Look, I don't know what else to tell you," said Isshin exasperatedly, "I owned my mistakes, I told you why it happened..."

Rangiku frowned, and looked him in the eye.
"Don't think that gets you off the hook, mister. You will go back to the Soul Society one day when this is all done with, and you will explain to your family that you're an idiot."

"No way!" Isshin protested.

"Maybe you'd prefer it if I showed up at your doorstep with Kukaku?"

Isshin paled.
"That woman has a right hook on her that has been known to shatter jaws!" he hissed.

"Then maybe you had better do it on your terms."

"But the Gotei-"

"Maybe you didn't hear," said Rangiku firmly, "but Erza just recently cleaned house at twelfth. Burned half of it down and broke every bone in Kurotsuchi's body. Barely even got a slap on the wrist for it. Right now, she has a lot of pull. You're going to be safe- and besides, they already know about Ichigo, and the dots won't be hard to connect. He's the spit and image of Kaien, after all."

Isshin grumbled.
"Fine! But... later. Much, much later."

"I'm not going to forget," Rangiku said haughtily.

"As if," Isshin grumbled.

"Now," Rangiku continued, "as it happens, I will need a place to stay. You have a spare bedroom?"

"Are you serious?" said Isshin, looking mortified.

"Want me to describe the way your cousins cried at your funeral?" Rangiku warned, her tone dark.

"All right, all right," Isshin said, waving his hands in defeat, "you got it. We'll set you up upstairs."

"Good."

"Well, that settles that then," said Rangiku triumphantly, "and don't think we're done talking. We have a lot to go through, Kurosaki Isshin."

Isshin gave her an exasperated look. Women!

...granted, it was women who felt legitimately betrayed by him, and he couldn't fault her for it. But still, women!

---

While everyone else had walked their own way and split up, Nozomi had remained behind at the Urahara shop. After a few minutes of nervous fidgeting, she had headed inside, following the footsteps of the exiled scientist. She found him lazily sitting behind the store counter, going through a stack of papers. She walked up, standing a few yards away, staring at him. What was she going to say? How would she put it?

"I was wondering when you'd come inside," said Urahara, mercifully taking the first step, "I would have asked, but I figured that whatever you had on your mind, you would bring to me when you were ready."

"Well, er," Nozomi began awkwardly, "the thing of the matter is..."

"You're wondering about your status as a modified soul," he said casually.

Relieved, Nozomi nodded.

"To be honest, it took me a while to notice," said Urahara, standing up and walking out from behind the counter, approaching her with an interested look, "at first glance you appear identical to any other shinigami."

"What gave me away, then?" said Nozomi tensely, "Do I look like a doll?"

The shopkeeper shook his head.
"The reiatsu. It's hard to notice unless you're experienced in the field, or a genius- and fortunately, I am both- but your reiatsu output is extremely smooth and efficient, tremendously well balanced. Almost universally, a soul entering the Soul Society has no control over their reiatsu, except subconsciously. It's not strange, after all. A human has no control over the molecules and atoms that make up its body. Even when they gain control, advancing to the rank of shinigami, it is a hard-earned skill that even in the most genially skilled practitioners is never perfected. We normal souls, you see, are afflicted with the randomness of our heritage- we didn't choose to exist, we didn't choose our powers; we can only choose what to do with them. A mod soul, to compare, is designed for efficiency as any other machine would be, with the precision only a computer can achieve."

"I'm not a machine," said Nozomi sharply.

"Technically, you are," Urahara objected cheerily, "but that is neither a positive nor a negative trait. It has no bearing on the kind of person you are- well it does, as does any factor of upbringing, but not in a terribly significant way."
He looked at her expression, and added, "I suppose the easier thing to have said would be 'no offence'?"

"Yes," Nozomi agreed.

"So here you are at my doorstep," Urahara pondered, "no doubt familiar with my reputation. You already saw my gigai craftsmanship- am I everything you expected?"

"They were tremendously well crafted," Nozomi admitted, "so far, you seem to live up to expectations."

"Excellent," Urahara said cheerily, "now you've come to me with questions. That was not a question itself, I should add, but a statement. You have come here because, as a mod soul having gained the powers of a shinigami, you have questions about your parentage that few other people are fit to answer. Correct?"

"...correct," Nozomi admitted. She felt a bit awkward; the subject itself filled her with equal parts excitement and dread, and Urahara Kisuke was not the most personable of people.

"And if the answers of those questions are not to your liking? I tend not to censor myself for other people's benefit unless necessary."

"Answer it anyway," Nozomi said, gritting her teeth.

"Good girl," he said approvingly, "well, ask then."

"Well..." Nozomi stuttered, "the thing is... I mean, I always wondered..." she awkwardly trailed off. She had had so many thoughts, so many ideas- now why couldn't she articulate them?!

"The real question that you fail to vocalise, I think," said Urahara thoughtfully, "is 'am I real?' You are not naturally made, after all, not the product of random chance but design. Am I a real person, or just a very clever computer who thinks she is? That is the question I would wrestle with, I believe."

Nozomi took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Give me your arm, please," said Urahara. Confused, Nozomi obliged. The shopkeeper examined it, squeezing it, stretching it out, looking at it like a piece of meat.

"Excellent design, as I thought. Kageroza, I believe?"

"...yes," Nozomi said, a little baffled that he recognised the work of her 'father'.

"Bright young man, from what I recall. Shame, the way he turned out. Now, in terms of being real or not?"

He grinned, and Nozomi shifted uncomfortably.

"I believe all that existential angst is entirely unmerited, all things considered. Your model- or rather, I should say to be more considerate, your body- is quite outdated of course, but tremendously well constructed all the same. It- you- was built with the intent that you should be able to process new information as you went along. That you would be able to learn. The fact that you have been able to enter a shinigami's power into the matrix of a mod souls' body is itself an astonishing feat, and a sign of considerable adaptability. Perhaps you began life as a simple algorithm, but as you are now, the only difference between you and a fellow shinigami, I think, is that your body is much more efficient physically."

Nozomi looked at him, feeling a mixture of confusion, relief and mistrust.

"That is your opinion as an expert?"

"Well, I'd know more if I put you on my table and dissected you, but I think you would object to that, yes? From what I can tell right now, you are the same as anyone else, for better or worse."

"...right," Nozomi said, feeling a little put off.

"Did you expect worse?" said Urahara curiously.

"I guess I was never sure," Nozomi muttered, "and you can't really know any perspective except your own, right? So how could I know if I was normal?"

"We're all machines, really," said Urahara dismissively, "we're all a mish-mash of particles working together in a specific structure, to a specific end. Our mind is made up of electric impulses. You just happen to be made more efficiently."

"I never thought of it that way," Nozomi said, a bit taken aback.

"It's the most logical conclusion once you've looked at our biology, human or shinigami," said Urahara with a shrug.

"Say..."

"More questions, I'd wager. How many? I'd like to say I have all day, but even for such an interesting creature as yourself, I still can only dally for so long."

"Let me stay here, then," said Nozomi, "for as long as we're deployed."

Urahara blinked.
"Really, me? The untrustworthy, shady guy who just made a joke about dissecting you?"

"You're a legend in the science faculties still," said Nozomi, "and frankly, if you work there long enough, eccentric behaviour is what you expect."

"A legend, you say?" said Urahara thoughtfully, "I do hope you aren't just flattering me."

"Is it working?" said Nozomi hopefully.

Urahara laughed.
"I think I like you. Alright, you can stay- but anyone staying here has to earn their keep. You stay here, you put a bit of work in, and in between both of our chores... I'll tell you what I can about mod souls."

Nozomi nodded enthusiastically.
"It's a deal!"

---

Soifon, having switched out of her gigai the moment it became convenient, had already located a suitable location for an intelligence terminal. Once she had found it, an abandoned warehouse in a run-down part of the town, she had put out a beacon. Within minutes, her team had arrived. She had sent them out ahead of time last night, hand-picked operatives from the Stealth Force, veterans she had worked with for years or even decades. Numbering seven in total, they stood assembled in full stealth uniform, their all black clothing looking at odds with the grey, dull industrial surroundings.

"Set up all the necessary equipment in here," Soifon ordered, "You will survey all spiritual activity in the city and send me updates by the hour. I want you to keep a complete log of every activity made here, including that of your fellow officers. If the captain-commander's instincts are right, this could be the most vital intelligence we will have received so far, and it is up to you to see that none of it is squandered. Document everything- every word, every movement, everything we can get our hands on. Four of you, start setting up surveillance equipment around town the moment you are finished setting up in here, while the remaining three will start surveillance. Do not slack off- I will not tolerate laziness or incompetence!"

"Yes, captain!" her operatives barked.

Her last remark, of course, was entirely for show. She had picked the best available, the ones with a stellar record, but she wasn't about to start acting soft just because they were good at their jobs. Right now, she was going to head one of the most important tasks leading up to the war itself, and she would not fail. Not after her abysmal failings during the invasion. The captain-commander would be watching her... and as soon as she followed to the world of the living, so would Lady Yoruichi. She had a lot to live up to.

"Well, it's not a luxury hotel, but it will do," said Erza, stepping inside her apartment, with Momo, Isane and Nemu in tow.

"It's just fine," said Isane reassuringly.

"I'll see if I have some spare futons," said Erza, "aside from mine and Orihime's rooms, there isn't much space. Some of you will have to camp out in the living room, I'm afraid."

"It is by far a more comfortable option than camping out in the field," said Nemu dispassionately, "I am sure this will be more than adequate."
She gave Isane a look.
"Was that appropriately polite? I tried."

"It was just fine," Isane said with a smile, "maybe a little less stiff language, but there was nothing wrong with it."

Nemu nodded.
"I will endeavour to do better... Isane."

"I uh, have been training her to be more... sociable," said Isane, "on her request," she added hastily.

"Maybe you should sign me up for that course," Erza muttered, having opened a closet, rifling through it to find a spare futon.

"Say, Erza," said Momo, "why um... why don't we both sleep in your room?"

"Huh?" said Erza, distractedly rifling through the closet.

"For... privacy," said Momo.

"Hmm? Oh... oh. Um. Yeah, sure," Erza said, "oh, here it is." She hauled the futon out.

"It's settled, then. Momo and I in my room, and you two here in the living room. Just... keep things down."

"Unless I am mistaken, I believe that is a reference to sexual intercourse," said Nemu, "I assure you, we are both entirely professional. We would not do such a thing during an official mission-"

"That is not very socially correct, Nemu!" Isane squeaked, getting a little red in the face.

"...I apologise," said Nemu, "It seems I have a long way to go."

"...right," said Erza, feeling awkward, "uh, like I said. You two here, Momo and I in my room. Let's... let's just get settled in and check the town out for the mission, yes?"

"Yes, captain," said Nemu firmly. Momo giggled.

---

Kuchiki Byakuya shifted uncomfortably. Adjusting to a new gigai always required a bit of wearing in, but the new clothes made it no easier.
The Kuchiki clan was the most powerful of all, in no small part for its enormous wealth. Urahara Kisuke had agreed, for a not inconsiderable fee, to convert some of that wealth into currency that could be spent in the world of the living. Endowed with a small fortune, Byakuya and Rukia had first visited a luxurious clothing store, and following that, they had checked into an equally luxurious hotel. The two were right now adjusting to a three-room suite, equipped with everything a wealthy, privileged and exalted nobleman could require- or so Byakuya hoped, at least. The aesthetics of this world was strange and alien to him, and he was not sure he approved of it. With the cost, he was sure this would be sufficient for any equally exalted human being.

"Is there something wrong, brother?" said Rukia. She too had been given a change of clothes; appearances had to be kept, after all, and she had settled for a simple, practical cream-coloured dress.

"Are you certain this is what the wealthiest men of this realm would wear?" Byakuya said, awkwardly stretching in his three-piece black suit. It was quite well made, he was sure, the fabric smooth and elegant, and the colour had reminded him of his uniform- but the problem, unfortunately, was that it was tight and restrictive compared to the baggy, roomy folds of a shihakusho. He had even been convinced by his sister not to employ a kenseikan, as the hair garment would have, in her words, made him 'look weird'.

"Of course, brother!" Rukia said firmly, "Even normal office workers wear suits in this land, and the more expensive the suit, the more important you are. I searched very carefully for a store worthy of you."

How that had happened, Byakuya was not sure, he only knew it involved something called 'Google', and he did not trust that term.

"It is restrictive and impractical," he said. He would never have complained, of course; the head of the Kuchiki clan would not stoop to something as petty as complaining. During appropriately tragic moments, one could perhaps lament, but never over something as trivial as clothing. He was simply expressing... concern. Over practical issues.

"You look positively dashing, brother," Rukia said encouragingly, "nobody who saw you walk down the street could doubt you were a man of wealth and taste."

Rukia, he realised, was hardly objective, but she was the only one close to him with any experience of the world of the living.
"This culture is strange and illogical," he commented- but not complained, because a Kuchiki would never complain- "frankly, your choice of clothing would be far more suitable for combat than this. How would one be expected to move freely in the event of a surprise attack?"

Rukia couldn't help herself; she chortled loudly.
"I- pfftt, brother, er, I wouldn't recommend that. People make... strange assumptions about men in women's clothing."

"Captain Kyouraku wears a woman's coat, and nobody doubts his integrity."

"...trust me brother, this suit is the way to go."

"I will take your advice, then," Byakuya said dispassionately.

"Shall we scout out the town together?" said Rukia, eager to change the subject.

"A fine suggestion," Byakuya commented, eager to leave the gigai behind.

Before long, two black-clad figures sailed out the window of the twentieth story, leaping from one rooftop to the next.

---

At seven they reconvened by Urahara's shop as agreed, each one of them out of their gigai and in uniform. They were all a little on edge; this was a mission after all, with war looming.

"Report," Erza demanded firmly.

"Nothing new with me," said Rangiku.

"Likewise," said Byakuya, "Rukia and I have spent the last few hours getting a sense of this city, but nothing extraordinary has come to pass."

"Well... same here, really," said Nozomi, unwilling to admit that unlike the others, she hadn't spent much time scouting the town at all.

"My team is setting up, as agreed," said Soifon, "the process of setting up sensors around the city is still ongoing, but within a day, we should have full ability to measure any spiritual activity in the immediate area, for up to five miles total."

"Good, then," said Erza, nodding, "now that we're all set up, I want you to know we're not slacking off. When we're here, we spend our time on patrol, and when we're not patrolling, we're mapping the city, and when we're doing neither of those things, we train to keep sharp. Off duty hours from nineteen hundred hours to seven hundred hours. Understood?"

"Yes, captain!" came the affirmative.

"Commander," said Byakuya, and Erza realised that technically, for the mission, that would be her title, "our lodgings and rules settled is all well and good, but we are missing a headquarters. We need a place to assemble and plan our next moves if necessary."

"We'll use the store," said Erza with a grimace, "the shopkeeper is bound to charge us for it, but for now, it can't be helped."

Seeming satisfied, Byakuya nodded.

"Now," continued Erza, "let's compare notes on what we made of this city so far-"

Then they all felt it, all at the same time. The fabric of reality rupturing like a wound, and malignant, powerful reiatsu sources spilling out of it, carrying the unmistakable signature of the arrancar.

"Oh, shit," said Isane soberly, and Erza was surprised to hear her swear.

"It seems we will not need to wait for them to make a move," Nemu commented neutrally.

"So these are the arrancar?" said Byakuya, drinking in the new sensation, "I count... six of them. One significantly stronger than the others. With all likeliness..."

"...Aizen sent one of his best," Erza continued, a chill running down her spine.

"Fortunate, then, that the captain-commander heeded your advice about the gentei kaijou," said Soifon.

"Everyone, move out!" Erza snapped, "Isane, Nemu and Nozomi, hang back. Engage only if necessary."

Isane nodded.
"What about our human allies?"

Erza didn't even want to think about the teenagers facing down monsters like these.
"I told Orihime to stay home no matter what, now that we're here," she said tensely, "and I think I should have... done the same for the others."
Ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach, she shook her head.

"Well, you heard me- move out!"

Soifon and Byakuya had already moved the moment she gave the order, and Rangiku, Rukia and Momo followed suit as they charged as one toward the source of the reiatsu. They were quite a distance away, and even with shunpo, it would take a few minutes to get there. She only hoped they wouldn't do too much damage before her group could get there.

---

Grimmjow felt the night air on his face. It was cool, but compared to Hueco Mundo, it felt like a warm breeze. He drank in the sensations of the city; it was remarkably rich with souls well above what you'd expect from weak, meagre humans. Slowly, he and his fracciones floated down, setting foot on a skyscraper's roof.

"Ain't that a sight?" said Nakeem, staring down hungrily at the city.

"Yeah, buncha shitty human souls ripe for the picking!" said D-Roy excitedly.

"Keep your eyes on the prize, dullards," scoffed Edrad, "a normal human soul, even one rich with power, is but a morsel compared to eating a Huge hollow in Hueco Mundo. We are not here to feast."

"Quite," Shawlong concurred, "we are here... to wreak havoc. Are we not, sire?"
He turned to Grimmjow, a hint of excitement in his refined voice, betraying the savage nature behind his mask of self-control.

"Y'all need to sharpen the fuck up," Grimmjow said with a grin, "don't ya feel it?"

"Yes..." said Edrad, concentrating, "shinigami. Strong ones."

"This is why you are our king, sire," said Shawlong, his thin lips curving into a smile.

"We're in luck, boys!" Grimmjow exclaimed cheerfully, "The Gotei didn't send no chaff. You lot, spread out and engage. Kill 'em all, and don't fuck around too much. If you can't find 'em, make a fuss- kill enough humans, and they're bound to show themselves. When I say so... you can eat their corpses."

There was an approving cheer from his subordinates. A high-ranking officer, rich with reishi, was a treat few hollows could hope to sink their teeth into, a font of power that would let you grow... and now, they all had the bodies and power to make it happen.

"Yes, sir!" Edrad said loudly, "The hell you waiting for, you lazy assholes? Your king gave you an order!"

With that, he launched himself into the air, seeking out whatever power source was the closest. Eager not to be shamed by their peer, his fellow fracciones followed suit, sailing through the night like starving wolves eager for the hunt. Grimmjow looked over them as they descended on the unwitting town. Hell... it was about time. Eagerly, he flexed his muscles, wanting to follow right after them. But making it to the top wasn't all savagery- it was cunning, too. As much as a king needed subordinates, sacrificing one or two was just fine if it meant drawing out the better prey. Lazily, he leapt off the building, sensing two weaker signatures. Whatever these idiots were, they'd make for a good warm-up while his subjects flushed out the strongest of the shinigami. When they had... when they did, he'd be right there, going for the prize. He'd fight, kill, eat and grow stronger. The path to the top was putting one foot in front of the other, but right now, Grimmjow saw himself making a leap.

---

Ichigo felt the tremors, close and powerful. He wasn't quite as weak now, having halved his dose of pills. The results had been predictable; he slept uneasily and woke up breathing heavily, but he wasn't quite so restricted either. He'd heard the news from his mother as she left, that Erza had put together a task force, and for that reason he had seriously considered completely butting out when he first sensed it. Leave it to the professionals. Why should he get involved?
But then he thought of his mother, his sisters, and how he'd feel if they were hurt. If they were killed. He thought of the mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives whose lives might be changed forever, left with a wound that never healed... because of a hollow's gluttonous appetite. He could do something about that, and if he didn't... well, if you could help and you didn't, what did that say about you?

So it was that he had cursed to himself, exited his corporeal body, and as a shinigami he had run toward the enemy. Uryu, it turned out, had much the same idea, having joined Ichigo within a block. The two had exchanged glances, and understood. Neither of them were especially keen on one another, but with what they faced, they needed help. Pride wasn't so important you had to stupidly die for it.
As they came closer to the site, they both slowed down, Uryu falling in line behind Ichigo.

"Look!" the quincy called, pointing to the sky. Ichigo, sword already drawn, looked up. Far up in the sky he could see the remnants of a portal closing, a gap into sheer blackness closing in the evening sunlight. It meant the hollows- the arrancar- weren't far. Ichigo's sense, still dulled, worked in overdrive. He could sense several incredibly powerful energy sources nearby, but they were moving out and away, into the city.

"Where are they going?" said Uryu, "You'd think they would go for us... oh no."

There was a finality to his words, and as he spoke them, Ichigo sensed it too. A power source greater than any other, malignant and tremendous.
From around the corner, strolling casually with his hands in his pocket like it was a normal evening walk for him, came a strange and terrifying figure. Raw, powerful energy of a kind Ichigo hadn't felt since he stared down Kuchiki Byakuya emanated from him, only much more vile, oppressive, feeling just... wrong. The figure had blue hair, a cock-sure grin, and a mask fragment looking like half of a jawline on his right cheek, lined with sharp teeth. He wore all white, and a katana hung from his sash.

"Sharp, ain't ya?" he said, his voice rough, reminding Ichigo of a gangster or a punk. There was a sense of complete confidence as he spoke, gleeful like he had already won.

Uryu immediately raised his bow, charging an arrow and letting it fly. The arrancar didn't even bother to dodge, simply taking the hit. Nothing. The most Ichigo could see was a small mark of soot where the arrow had impacted, on the creature's shoulder.

"Ouch," he said flatly, sounding thoroughly unimpressed, "ya sure got me there, kid."

Gritting his teeth, Uryu strung another arrow.

"Don't bother, bitch," said the arrancar, slowly advancing toward them, "I don't really give a fuck about quincies like you. Now, the shinigami here..."

"Who are you? What are you?" Ichigo demanded, hoping to gain time. Whatever this was, he was well beyond their ability to handle. Erza and her group was bound to come sooner rather than later, so all they had to do was survive until then.

"What, ya never heard of an espada before?" said the arrancar lazily, keeping on his carefree advance, "I'm Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Septimo Espada."

"I'm sure you must be very powerful," said Ichigo, desperately sensing for his backup, "so why, why don't you-"

"Shut the fuck up, kid," said the espada, stopping some three yards away, hands still in his pockets, "and release that bankai of yours. Wouldn't be worth shit, walking all over you the way you are now."

Ichigo needed no more encouragement. He held his blade out, let his reiatsu surge, and readied himself. He hadn't summoned bankai since his time on that hill, and he was weak now, at most at fifty percent of his full strength... but right now, he had no other option.

"BANKAI!" he roared, and there was a gust of wind as his energy discharged, transforming him, "Tensa Zangetsu!"

He was enveloped with a black greatcoat, his blade becoming long and thin, and he felt some measure of confidence. Power was surging through him. Now this was more like it-

And then the arrancar was upon him. He had moved faster than Ichigo's eyes could even follow, and only instinct saved him from being floored by a vicious roundhouse kick. His mind on overdrive, with no time for thought, he had moved back just in time. Grimmjow grinned, and continued his charge. He hadn't even drawn his blade yet. Well, Ichigo wasn't going to let him get away with that kind of arrogance. Crying out, he swung his blade in a wide arc, aiming to take the espada's head, letting his power surge.
Grimmjow caught the blade with his palm, and for but a moment, Ichigo wondered if he was just insane-
Then he realised that his blade had stopped completely. It was grinding against the arrancar's skin, without even drawing a drip of blood. Decisively, Grimmjow closed his fist around the blade, holding it firmly.

"H-how-" Ichigo started.

"My turn," said Grimmjow cheerily, and slammed a fist into Ichigo's gut. The air knocked out of his lungs, Ichigo coughed and hacked, staggering back.

A sudden storm of arrows struck Grimmjow in the side, Uryu having unleashed a massive volley. For a moment, the arrancar staggered back, nearly every arrow hitting home.

"Butt out, ya gnat!" he snarled. Seeming unaffected by the hail of arrows, he said,

"Yo, shinigami, wait just a sec. Be right back..."

"Get back into it, Ichigo!" Uryu cried, "I can't handle him alone-"

He really couldn't. In an instant, Grimmjow had closed the distance, coming almost face to face with the young quincy. Uryu immediately reacted, on his feet trying to sprint away, but it was too late. Grimmjow backhanded him, sending him flying, skidding across the ground before slamming into a park bench, which cracked under the impact.

"You're fuckin' lucky, kid," Grimmjow said, turning his eyes back to Ichigo, "but when it comes to shinigami... well, ain't nothing like fucking up one of those smug black-coats."

Ichigo had managed to catch his breath- well, for the most part- and stood his ground. What else could he do?
The voice of Erza rang inside his head. Technique over power. The espada was absolutely fearsome, but his movements, as fast as they were, weren't impossible to anticipate. Right now, he just had to survive.

Screaming with malevolent glee, Grimmjow charged again. This time ready for it, Ichigo could follow his movements just a little. Hoping he hadn't miscalculated, he moved, taking a step to the side and dodging, while holding his blade out. The espada's swing went wide, well over Ichigo's head, and his charge missed the mark entirely, going past him. If Grimmjow's skin hadn't been sword-proof, he would have taken a nasty cut too, but as it was, Ichigo's blade only bounced off. Grimmjow quickly spun around, just as Ichigo did, staring him down.

"Good," he said, "I was worried you'd be a real fuckin' lightweight."

"You're pretty damn strong," Ichigo snarled, "but the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

It was all bluster, and they both knew it. Still, he didn't have to win.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," said Grimmjow, flexing his arms. His skin had only a slight scratch mark on it. A direct hit, even accentuated by such tremendous speed, had done nothing. Ichigo had to do better, much better. Letting his reiatsu rise, he charged power into his blade. A haze of raw force emanated from it, black energy becoming visible.

"Come get it!" he spat.

Grimmjow charged, quick as lightning, but Ichigo was faster. His bankai activated, the world felt like it moved in slow motion, even the espada's blurred movements seeming easy to decipher. Grimmjow struck air as Ichigo moved, putting a good twenty yards between himself and the arrancar.

"The fuck?" said Grimmjow, sounding legitimately surprised.

"You shouldn't have underestimated me," Ichigo said, almost believing his own hype.

He had options here. He could run away. The arrancar might catch up, but not before he found Erza, or somebody from her group. But then...

Then he'd be leaving Uryu behind. Or any other normal person who happened to be in the espada's way. He cursed to himself. No, he had to keep going. His fingers clenching firmly around the hilt of his sword, he moved. Running at a hundred miles per hour- or more, for all he knew- he circled around Grimmjow, the espada seeming unable to follow his movements, glancing around confusedly.

"Stand still, you little chickenshit!" he growled.

"Wouldn't you like that, huh?" said Ichigo, stopping for just one second. Grimmjow lunged at him, but Ichigo was already on his feet again, evading him with ease.
As good as it felt to stump the monster for a second, it didn't change the fact that he was monstrously strong. He could stay and buy time... but what if the arrancar got bored? What if he decided to move on? No, he had to treat this like a real fight. Charging energy into his blade, he readied himself. This would have to be really, really precise...

---

Grimmjow irritably looked at the black haze around him, the shinigami whelp using its superior speed to his advantage. This body... this new, humanoid body was alien to him, and right now, in the middle of the fight, it showed. He had much learning to do. But that... that was the price of power, after all.
Suddenly, his life-long animal instincts kicking in, he sensed something coming in from behind. The after-image of the shinigami still going, he had stopped to attack Grimmjow from the back. Grimmjow twisted around, lunging out with an arm to catch the impetuous brat before he had the chance to strike. If he thought he could catch Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez unaware, he was in for a rude surprise!

But his arm only struck air once more, fading through another after-image. The blink of an eye later, the shinigami was right in front of him, his blade brimming with power.

"GETSUGA TENSHOU!" he cried, with a surprising amount of spirit, and Grimmjow felt real pain as the attack hit, the sheer force of the explosion causing him to stagger back, nearly losing his balance. Sonofabitch!

---

Ichigo felt a sense of elation as the espada reeled, and he paused for but a second. Was it possible? The discharge of power had sent him flying back himself, and it was only barely that he had landed on his feet. It was dangerous to have fired it off so close, almost point blank, but he couldn't risk it going wide. Somebody could have got hurt- and this was his best chance of doing damage.
The dust began to clear, and to Ichigo's horror, the arrancar took a step forward, still on his feet. He had slid back a good few yards, the asphalt around his feet ground up into little pieces, but he seemed unaffected. He wasn't unhurt; a nasty, red mark ran across his chest and left forearm, blood seeping from where the Getsuga had hit. Even so, he looked unimpressed.

"Well damn, kid," he said, almost appreciatively, "ya might just make a decent warm-up after all."

Ichigo had thrown the hardest hit he had been able to muster... and it had barely even slowed the monster down.

"GETSUGA TENSH-" he began, desperately summoning the energy for another hit, but the espada surged forward with ludicrous speed, slamming a fist into his gut. Ichigo went flying, halfway seeing stars, yet somehow managing to land on his feet. No sooner had he landed than Grimmjow was upon him again. Struggling to even breathe, Ichigo raised his blade, striking at the charging espada. Quite casually, Grimmjow blocked the strike with his forearm, then grabbed Ichigo by the hair with his free arm, headbutting him. Ichigo reeled back, but Grimmjow wasn't done, slamming a kick into Ichigo's side. Ichigo nearly retched, barely even breathing, and it was a wonder that he even stood upright. Grimmjow took a quick step forward and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him just off the ground.

"I take it back," he said maliciously, "ya ain't even good for a warm-up."

He let go, and Ichigo managed, somehow, to not fall over. He wanted to fight, to raise his blade and strike the monster, but couldn't; his arms felt like they were made of lead. The sheer shock of the assault had left him numb.

"Let's see if ya can at least be good for one thing, huh?" said Grimmjow, and rapidly lashed out with both fists, unleashing a hailstorm of punches all across Ichigo's face and chest. Ichigo reeled back under the relentless attack, unable to react or even think. Staggering back step by step, he was helpless against the rapid, hard-hitting strikes. Grimmjow was laughing loudly, his mirth carrying a shrill, sadistic noise across the city air.

This was more like it! The little piece of shit had been a bother, but now he was right where he belonged- an ant under the king's boot. This was the way it was supposed to be. No fight was worth it if you didn't have to work hard for it. Only hardship made you stronger. And the reward for overcoming it... oh, it was sweet.

"I gotta give it to ya, kid," said Grimmjow happily in between one punch and the next, "you made a good run of it."

For good measure, he slammed his fist into the boy's jaw, and his lips curled up as he felt the bone snap, the young shinigami spinning around ninety degrees before falling like a redwood under the woodsman's axe. Grimmjow closed both hands into fists, raised them to the sky, and hollerred with victorious cheer.

"HADOU NUMBER THIRTY-ONE: SHAKKAHOU!"

The spell came seemingly out of nowhere, impacting centre-mass on Grimmjow's muscular frame. From surprise more than anything he was knocked off his feet, unbalanced and sent flying. With the agility of a cat, he adjusted mid-flight, landing smoothly on his feet. He looked around, quickly assessing the new threat, only to break out into a grin as he saw it. The white coat. The symbol of a captain's rank. She had red hair, and stood tall with an evil-minded look on her face, like a crimson demon. It made his heart race with anticipation. Here was the fight he had been looking for!

---

Erza was surprised with herself for having managed to fire the spell, so well and so accurately, while travelling at such speed- but something about feeling Ichigo's beat-down from afar had motivated her in a way that only family could. She had her hand on her blade, and the only thing stopping her from flying right at the arrancar immediately was the sight of Ichigo on the ground. She pulled her blade out, keeping an eye on the arrancar, and approached Ichigo.

"Damn..." she muttered, seeing the deformity of his jaw, "are you okay?"

Ichigo tried to murmur something, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Don't talk," she said hastily, "just... nod."

Tamely, Ichigo nodded.

"We'll get you fixed up," Erza promised, "the moment I am done with that piece of shit over here. For now... get safe, okay?"

Ichigo nodded again.

Erza turned around, staring at the blue-haired arrancar. He stood with his hands in his pocket, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Don't take all night, lady," he said mockingly, "gimme a fight and make it good, or the kid gets it."

Erza needed no encouragement. Her heart filled with a righteous, rising fury, she surged forward, blade raised and held firmly in both hands. In the blink of an eye she had closed the distance, bringing her weapon down on the arrogant monster's head. Grimmjow raised both his arms into a cross, blocking her strike.

"See, that's more like it," he said appreciatively. His skin was unharmed, and the strike seemed to have done nothing. What wouldn't she have given to have Tetsu no Tama at her side right now?
"Stronger," he said, "harder. Just the way I like it."

Then, in one swift movement, he swept her leg out from under her, and she lost her balance. Before she had even fallen to the ground, he had kicked her in the gut, sending her tumbling. Not waiting for her to get up, Grimmjow followed through, kicking her again for good measure. She pushed up with her arms, trying to get to her feet, but the arrancar was giving her no pause. He kicked her in the waist again, causing her to fall over yet again, and as she raised her head he slammed a fist into her cheek, her head making an unpleasant connection with the pavement.
Erza was scrambling to turn it around. The bastard was fighting dirty- real dirty, and with a hell of a punch to back it up. Rolling over, she dropped her sword, curling up. Grimmjow, unable to resist, raised his leg for another kick right into her belly. But as his foot came in, she caught it with both hands, and before he could react, she had grabbed onto his ankle quite firmly, and pulled. Grimmjow winced, and losing balance, he staggered back. Erza let him regain his footing, quickly getting to her feet again, desperately grabbing hold of her blade. Breathing heavily, she stared down her opponent.

"Good job," he said gleefully. Erza, having had the anger knocked out of her along with the wind, braced herself. This was going to be a hell of a fight.

---

Chad had run toward the noise- that is, the spiritual commotion- but without the ability to speed across the landscape, like Uryu, he was relegated to the mere use of his legs. He had linked up with Tatsuki, who had been running the same way for the same reason, and together they had double-timed it. The pace, unfortunately, wasn't very quick.

Fortunately- or doubly unfortunately- trouble found them first. As the sun came close to setting, they both sensed it. A powerful arrancar, menacing and vile, was close by.

"Get ready," Tatsuki said firmly, having readied her staff. She didn't need to say it; Chad had already brought out his armoured arm, and the both of them assumed combat positions, looking carefully around. They were surrounded by tall buildings, being near the business district, and just by one of them, they felt, their foe was coming fast.

They were spared a long, excruciating wait. A streak of white surged through the air, landing just behind them. The teenagers spun around, and caught a first glance of their foe. He was a humanoid hollow, much like the ones they had fought before, but he radiated power in a way that made their previous adversaries seem tame. He was of average height, with baggy pants and a shirt that revealed his chest, a hole running through his chest just beneath where his neck ended. A thick hollow fragment took up most of his skull, round and elongated, stretched sideways. Along with his sharp teeth, it gave them the impression of a hammerhead shark.

"You the people that killed the arrancar what came here last?" he said, his voice raspy and confident.

"Are you looking for revenge?" said Tatsuki firmly, taking a deep breath. This was a terrifying sight, and she felt her mouth going dry. She had run toward the threat almost automatically, and it hadn't occurred to her- not in any major way, at least- that she might run into a threat well beyond her ability to handle.

"Revenge?" snorted the arrancar, "For those weaklings? We came here 'cos you was able to fend them off. Meant you'd make good sport."

"Who are you, and what do you want?" she demanded.

"D-Roy Rinker," said the arrancar, his voice low and cruel, "and I want ya to put up a fight 'fore I eat you both. Make it a good 'un."

"Tatsuki," said Chad, stepping forward, "I'll take point. Support me from behind. See if you can find an opening."

"...who put you in charge?" said Tatsuki.

"I am tougher than you. I'm more likely to survive a hit. You, by comparison, are more skilled technically and would therefore benefit more from an opening."

"Listen to the big guy," said D-Roy cheerily, "but don't keep me waitin', 'cause I ain't gonna sit around all night."

Chad let his reiatsu surge.
"There is no time to argue," he proclaimed, taking another step, then another, quicker than the last, "just be at your best, or we might die."

The finality of his words reminded Tatsuki that he spoke truly- no, there was no time to argue. As Chad broke into a run, raising his fist, Tatsuki followed suit, running beside him, aiming to get around the arrancar.

Chad let out a loud, bellowing cry, his energy peaking as his fist came down. D-Roy grinned, braced himself, and put a palm up. Quite easily, he caught Chad's punch, and though the impact shook him, pushed him back, he remained upright. The force of Chad's strike died down, his armoured arm not managing to even dent the arrancar. His fingers clasped down over Chad's knuckles.

"Hell of a punch, kid," he said, grinning.

Tatsuki surged in from the side, swinging with her staff. She aimed for his neck; perhaps she could stun him by hitting a weak spot-
But his other arm shot out, and blocked her strike.

"C'mon, you two," he said irritably, "I know the ones you beat down were trash, but at least make it interesting."

"You underestimate us at your peril," Chad proclaimed, and there was another swell of reiatsu as his energy peaked, running through his arm. Point blank, the energy struck and exploded, sending the arrancar staggering back.

"Nice shot!" Tatsuki shouted.

"No," said Chad, shaking his head, "I was not able to use enough energy to hurt him. The impact might have hurt us both very badly."

"Right, bored now," said D-Roy, and pulled his sword out, "you both better be sword-proof, or I'll hack you to bits."
He came at them with intense speed, but Chad reacted in time. Quickly charging another burst of energy, he slammed his fist into the ground as the arrancar came in close, the shockwave breaking his charge. Unperturbed, D-Roy flipped around in the air, landing on his feet. Tatsuki, not wasting the opportunity, charged forward before he could fully recover, striking him repeatedly with one staff thrust after another, pressing him back.
D-Roy spun the blade around, parrying one strike after another.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me," he grunted. With relative ease, he drove Tatsuki's staff into the ground after catching it, then lashed out with a foot, catching her in the gut. Tatsuki went tumbling across the ground, struggling to breathe.
"I mean, I gotta give it to ya, most humans wouldn't be able to lift a finger against us," he said as he ran after her, blade raised, "but this is still pathetic."

As he came at her, Chad went in his way, arm raised to block the arrancar's strike. The blade ground against the armoured arm, its edge slowly cutting through as D-Roy pushed down.

"Playing chivalrous ain't gonna save either of you, ya stupid punk!" snorted the arrancar. He kicked Chad in the midsection, and as the muscular teen staggered back, he surged forward, slugging him squarely in the gut. The wind taken out of his sails, Chad sunk to all fours, gasping for breath.

"Well," said D-Roy, "at least the two of ya will make a decent snack."

Tatsuki struggled to get to her feet as he raised his blade. Chad wouldn't be able to get up in time. She would have to get there, right now, or he'd- he'd get his head taken off! Grasping her staff firmly, she got up, running desperately forward. The arrancar had already readied himself to strike.

"HEY!" she cried loudly, hoping to draw his attention, "HEY, RIGHT HERE, YOU SON OF A-"

She wasn't going to make it. He could see her, and he wasn't afraid. She was too far off, in just a second now he'd be gone and she couldn't help...

"Juhaku!"

Suddenly, a haze of white sprung forth across the ground, approaching the monster rapidly. It was a sheet of ice, growing into a wall. Thick and strong, it nearly struck him head on, D-Roy being forced to jump back.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

The voice filled Tatsuki with unbelievable relief, and she could almost feel tears grow in her eyes. The wall of ice shattered, revealing Chad alive behind it- bruised, but alive.

"You did well," said Rukia, calmly approaching D-Roy with her blade in hand. It was longer now, quite white, a long, white ribbon hanging from the end of its hilt. She radiated power, and Tatsuki realised this was the real Rukia, the one she had been before her powers had been lost; a shinigami in her own right, her shikai released and ready for battle.
"I will handle this. The two of you, get to safety."

"Are-are you going to be okay?" Tatsuki asked.

"Yes," said Rukia, stoically continuing her advance toward D-Roy, holding her blade low, "yes, I will."

Part of Tatsuki wanted to insist they stay and help, that maybe she needed them... but right now, the fear of death still fresh in her memory, she knew they were outmatched. This was shinigami business. Neither one of them had been a match for this creature. Untrained as they were, they might just get in the way. Quickly, she rushed over to Chad, and slinging one of his bulky arms over her shoulder, she struggled to help him to his feet. With some effort she managed, Chad grunting.

"I leave it to you, then," said Tatsuki.

Rukia nodded at her, but paid her no further heed. She was focused, feeling the familiar thrill of battle. This was her first real fight for a long time now, and though her powers were recovered, you never really knew how good you were until your life was on the line.

"Lucky me," said D-Roy gleefully, "the small fries get replaced with a proper main course."

Rukia did not even respond. As she got within a couple of yards of the arrancar, she simply charged, blade coming in low to strike at his legs. D-Roy jumped over her strike, and tried to counter-attack, but she caught his strike before he had even readied it, directing it away. Pushing him back, she launched into a series of strikes, rapidly thrusting and cutting at her opponent. He was no experienced swordsman, that much was clear, although his movements were quick and fluid.

"Heh," he said, taking one step back after another, "you're a feisty minx, aren't ya?"

"Your form is poor," Rukia said haughtily, relentlessly pushing him back, "you wield your blade like it were a club."

"Well," said D-Roy, just barely keeping up, "swords ain't the only trick we got, anyway!"

He caught her blade, pushing back against her strike single-handedly. Rukia grit her teeth. Then she saw it. At the edge of her sight, a dot of red... and then she sensed the surge of power.

"CERO!" cried D-Roy, firing the projectile point-blank, the raw, destructive energy exploding into the city with tremendous force. For a second, he thought she had been incinerated.

Then D-Roy felt a ray of pain as the strike hit hit back, and he stumbled forward, quite surprised.

Rukia was breathing heavily. That hit had very nearly killed her; a blink of an eye later and it would have shredded right through her. As it was, a timely bit of shunpo had saved her. Reappearing behind the arrancar's back, she had charged extra energy into her blade and struck. A thick trail of red was dripping down, soiling his white clothing.

"The fuck?!" D-Roy snarled, but Rukia was not done. Holding out a palm, she cried,

"Sokatsui!"

D-Roy screamed as the blue flames ate at him, burning him. It wouldn't be nearly enough to kill him, not with a spell thrown out without an incantation, but it kept him busy for a few seconds.

"Hear me now, Sode no Shirayuki," she whispered, and held up her blade, letting it turn upside down.

"First dance: Tsukishirou," she said, and on the ground around her and D-Roy, there came aglow a circle of white. She made a slashing motion against the arrancar with her blade, and immediately, he began to freeze, the pain of fire replaced by deathly cold.

"Hey-" D-Roy began, but he was already being frozen in place, his legs encased in ice. He flailed wildly for a second, but only moments later, he was fully encased in a pillar of ice. He was trapped. Rukia felt relief. From here on, it would be simple. At her command, the ice would break, and the arrancar with it. She readied herself. All it would take was-

Then there was a surge of power, and Rukia gasped as she felt her ice breaking, a sensation almost like pain passing through her. The ice cracked, shards spraying across the ground, and with two vicious strikes, D-Roy broke free.

"Son of a bitch!" he snarled, "I couldn't even breathe, you bitch!"

Rukia's eyes narrowed. He was considerably more powerful than she had expected.

"Well," he said, cracking his neck and flicking his blade around, "now that we got the warm-up outta the way... let's dance, woman."

---

Kuchiki Byakuya was, personal doubts and imperfections aside, a formidable warrior and possessed of a keen knowledge of a hollow's nature. They were invariably little more than animals with an intellect; their combat decisions all followed a simple dichotomy of either fight or flight. If they felt confident in their ability to win, they would fight. If they lacked the confidence to win, they would take flight. Given, then, that such a brazen attack would require supreme confidence, particularly with the powers bestowed on them by Aizen's unnatural and deviant practices, he would not need to seek them out. Once he had gotten sufficiently close to their point of origin, he had sensed their spreading out, and simply landed on a quiet street, letting his reiatsu emanate in clear, easily sensed pulses. They would come to him.

He was not disappointed. Within minutes of having landed, an arrancar approached, landing some ten yards away. He was a tall, lanky creature, a quarter of his face obscured by a mask fragment on its left side, which ended halfway down his cheek and extended up onto his head, the bone forming a hat-like extension. Byakuya's eyes narrowed as he laid eyes on his enemy. This was the first time he had personally seen an arrancar, and he found it revolting. Something about a creature so obviously monstrous, its energy as vile as ever despite its transformation... a creature such as that taking the form of a man was disgusting.

"Captain Kuchiki Byakuya, sixth division," said the creature politely. His movements were well controlled, Byakuya noticed; he showed a kind of restraint one would not normally expect out of an impulsive monster, "pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I have nothing to say to you," said Byakuya, his tone quite restrained as he smoothly pulled his sword from its sheath. The civility the monster displayed only made it more contemptible- a monster was one thing, but a monster pretending to be less than a monster was not just monstrous, but deceptive. Still, he made sure to give no outward sign of his disgust. After recent events... now more than ever, he needed to prove that he was Kuchiki Byakuya, paragon of the Gotei.

"Oh?" said the arrancar, a subtle hint of mockery in its voice, "Not even civilities? When I know your name, yet you do not have mine?"

Byakuya did not respond. The creature would come when it was ready to do so. He would test its skills carefully before unleashing the full fury of his power upon it.

"I am Shawlong Qufang," said the arrancar, with a courteous bow to boot, "vassal to my sire, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. In his name, I must take your life."

Byakuya stared back at him expressionlessly.

"As I am told, you are rather the stoic type," said Shawlong, pulling his blade out, "and to be fair... I suppose I have no reason to delay either, do I?"

He pulled his blade out, slowly and demonstratively, and as he did so, Byakuya took his Senbonzakura in both hands, assuming a stance with the blade held low. The arrancar seemed to have a fairly good handle of his sword, holding it with surprising ease. Then, without warning, Shawlong surged forward, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. High! Low! Sideways! In less time than it would have taken for a leaf to drop to the ground, he had struck three times. But Byakuya's swordsmanship was not considered one of the best in the Gotei for nothing, and reflexively, he parried all three with ease. Shawlong took a step back, cautiously spinning his blade around once.

"Excellent form," he commended the captain.

Byakuya looked at him, unimpressed.

"What do you expect to accomplish?" he said, at last engaging with the arrancar, "Your power is inferior, and your skill even moreso. You are nothing compared to my prowess."
His voice was perfectly neutral, delivered with absolute confidence. It was boastful; a deliberate move on Byakuya's part, hoping to goad the creature. The more powerful the hollow, he knew, the more arrogant and overconfident it was bound to be.

Shawlong, unfortunately, seemed not to rise to it.

"You have seen nothing yet," he said, a cruel smirk on his lips.

Again, he came at Byakuya, unleashing a series of lightning-fast strikes, stronger and faster than before. The first three, Byakuya realised, had simply been a tentative trying of the waters. No matter. Let him try his hardest; let him give it his all. As a captain of the Gotei, Byakuya would weather it all. He would not falter. Death before dishonour.
With flawless execution, Byakuya parried each strike, matching the arrancar's speed. He was being pushed harder, faster, but nothing so far was beyond his abilities. He avoided a clumsy feint, dodging under the attack before launching into a counter-attack, his blade thrusting forward just as Shawlong's blade went over his head. He had hoped to cut through the arrancar's neck, but its instincts were too quick, too well refined, and Shawlong twisted his head out of the way, Senbonzakura only raking the side of the arrancar's neck. Quickly, Shawlong skipped back a few steps.

"First blood," he said, touching the slight cut on his neck, "I am surprised, captain. That you would be able to pierce my hierro so easily..."

"It is only a matter of further power," Byakuya said dispassionately, "it was made known to us that your skin was resistant to the cut of a blade. Yet, all armour has its limits. It was only a matter of adjusting."

Shawlong nodded approvingly.
"And if I am not mistaken... you are at full strength, are you not?"

"Such was the captain-commander's order," Byakuya confirmed.

"Good. An easily won victory is worthless."

"I have no time for your tiresome beliefs," said Byakuya coldly, "victory is all that matters. Difficult or easy, it makes no difference."

"That is why you are all weaker," said Shawlong confidently.

"Yet it is not my blood that has been drawn."

Shawlong's eyes narrowed, and he surged forward again. It seemed he too, despite his calculated mannerisms, was not immune to provocation. He came at Byakuya again, even faster, even more furious. The air around them became a blur, as the two of them struck at each other with blinding speed, both of them forgetting everything but the fight. Shawlong slipped into a rapid movement, quite like shunpo, reappearing at the side- but Byakuya responded in kind, finding himself behind the arrancar not a moment later, Shawlong only barely parrying a thrust that would have pierced his skull. Byakuya's felt his body warming, sweat forming under his clothes. It had been a long time since he had been challenged like this. Aside from... aside from Sokyoku Hill. Yet, this was nothing compared to the audacious skill set of that brazen substitute. No matter how he tried, Shawlong found no room, no quarter, no holes in Byakuya's defence.

Intensifying his attacks, his limbs moving at maximum speed, the arrancar struck lightning-fast, over and over. He wasn't penetrating the captain's defences... but perhaps he didn't need to? Striking down quite hard, he pinned Byakuya's blade to the ground, both their blades grinding against the asphalt.

"Do you expect to defeat me in a contest of raw strength?" said Byakuya, "If that be the case, you will be sorely disappointed, arrancar."

Shawlong's lips curled into a sneer, and with one hand, he quickly moved forward, a fist slamming into Byakuya's neck. The counter-attack only narrowly missed Shawlong's face, but the damage was done; Byakuya had staggered back, coughing. Before he could recover, Shawlong had surged forward, cutting down onto the shinigami's shoulder. He felt his blade slice through the coat, through the uniform as a whole, and into the captain's flesh. Byakuya's eyes widened slightly, but he gave no sign of the pain he surely felt. He winced, though, and Shawlong pushed his advantage. He struck again, with long, hard blows, all aimed at capitalising on the damage he had just done.
Byakuya, true to his reputation, managed to recover, and although he had been pushed back, he met the following strikes with flawless accuracy. But the advantage was his now.

"One for one, captain!" Shawlong exclaimed, allowing his cool, collected exterior to relax as his blood grew hot, adrenaline surging through his body, "And I daresay you had the worse end of that exchange!"

Byakuya gave no reply, and skid back. Shawlong, now confident, followed through with a quick, vicious thrust. Byakuya, however, caught his blade and redirected it. Shawlong, too late realising he had overcommitted to the strike, nearly lost his footing as his blade struck air.

"Hadou number one: Shou."

The spell hit point-blank, sending Shawlong staggering back. Curses! He had forgot the arsenal of kido at the captain's disposal. Given no time to think on the matter, he spun around to meet an attack from behind, executed through a flawless shunpo. Byakuya, heedless of his injury, continued to push his advantage. Shawlong, now put on the defensive, took one step back, then another, barely keeping up. The pace was fully in the captain's hands now. As much as Shawlong was a natural with a blade, he was still new to its use... and Kuchiki Byakuya, he remembered, was almost prodigiously talented in all the shinigami arts. Firing off a quick bala, he forced the captain to jump aside, and used the opening to put some space between himself and his foe.

"As expected from the captain of Sixth Division," he said, his polite voice thrumming with excitement, "I cannot defeat you in this fashion. I doubt you would fall for an unexpected trick twice."

"Are you come to do battle or to praise me?" said Byakuya coldly.

"To do battle, of course!" Shawlong exclaimed, holding his blade up, "tremble now, captain, for you will behold for the first time the true power of an arrancar!"

Byakuya cautiously assumed a stance as Shawlong's reiatsu grew in power until it peaked.

"Snip, Tijereta!" The arrancar proclaimed, and there was a surge of power as he transformed before Byakuya's eyes. The hat-like structure on Shawlong's head elongated, curving backward, and from the end of his back, a double-bladed, insectoid tail extended, quivering menacingly. Shawlong's chest had become enveloped in thick bone, and his arms had become likewise armoured, having grown long, all ten of his fingers elongated, sharp and knife-like. They twitched, stretching out. Each one was nearly as long as Byakuya's own blade, and judging by the dramatic increase in power, just as lethal- or worse.

"So this is what Aizen has granted you," said Byakuya. It was revolting to look at, potent and undeniably powerful, a hollow fully evolved and in its prime.

"So my lord has," Shawlong said, sounding satisfied, "shall we test its limits? I have not yet fought an opponent of your calibre."
His voice was condescending, almost playful. Byakuya simply narrowed his eyes, and held his blade out in one hand.

"Scatter, Senbonzakura," he commanded. The blade obeyed, and a thousand pink, deathly sharp petals extended into the evening air. Let the creature try its damnedest. He would not find Kuchiki Byakuya wanting.

---

Nemu and Isane had stayed back as ordered, waiting at the outskirts of the battlefield-to-be. They were both capable enough fighters, of course- the Gotei would allow no less of a vice-captain- but neither of them were keen to face off with such powerful enemies. Isane knew she was going to be worth much more to the team as a medic; she had no desire for personal glory, and Nemu did, in her own way, feel much the same. Battle was not their forte, and it was nothing either of them had ever been ashamed of.

"What are you getting?" said Isane nervously, watching as Nemu set up a strange, tall device with an antenna, supposedly to measure spiritual energies.

"Nothing yet," said Nemu, her eyes fixed at the device, her hands completely busy setting the thing up. She had an unnerving capacity for multi-tasking that even Isane had found took some time to get used to; you could have an in-depth conversation with her while she carried out complex tasks effortlessly.
"This should allow us to gather quite a bit of data if I can only prepare it," Nemu continued, finishing up the base of the structure, and proceeded to mount the antenna to its top, "anything happening within a four mile radius should be accurately measured. It will take considerable time deciphering the data, of course, but nevertheless it should make for valuable intelligence. If we survive the war, it might even allow for a long-term research project as to the true nature of arrancar, perhaps even hollows overall."

"Please don't say that," said Isane nervously.

"What, exactly?" said Nemu, and began to fidget with a small panel near the instrument's base, her fingers tapping a set of buttons at a superhuman speed, "I am afraid I do not understand. I request... I mean, would you please clarify?"

"You said if," Isane muttered, "if we survive."

"Given current estimates, the chance of Aizen becoming victorious is not insignificant," said Nemu, focusing on her work, and Isane wished she could tell Nemu to turn around and look at her- but of course, they were on a mission, and work took priority.

"I know... I mean, we all know," said Isane awkwardly, "but..."

"I think this ventures into the territory of things I may not fully grasp," said Nemu, continuing her work, "so please bear with me. But given the very real possibility of defeat, from which point we could logically infer that all of us would likely perish, why would it be strange to address that matter-of-factly?"

"We all know," Isane repeated, "all of us know. It comes with the job. But... we've all felt really secure in ourselves for a very long time. There was peace, and nobody to challenge us. Now..."

"Now it was revealed to be entirely illusory. As it was all along, of course. Nothing lasts forever."

"Blunt as ever," Isane muttered, "but the point is... most people know, but they don't like to be reminded of it. Most of us want to live, and most of us don't want to be reminded that we're going to die."

"Death is a natural part of life."

"Sure, sure," Isane said, "but..." she took a deep breath, "most of us fool ourselves into thinking it won't happen. I mean, not really, everyone knows they will die, but emotionally... most of us don't think that way. When somebody tells us we're likely to die, it... it's demoralising. Like there's no point."

"From a single 'if'?"

"Yes," Isane said with a nod.

"I see." Nemu paused her work briefly, "Why would people need to lie to themselves? This, I have yet to grasp. I can... understand the logic behind it, I suppose. It has a quantifiable beneficent effect on the psyche. But the how is not the same as the why."

"Most people understand. You're different. It's because you're..."

"Because I'm artificial," Nemu said matter-of-factly, "I was not built to emulate the mental capacity of an average soul. There is no need to approach that like it was offensive."

"Um..." Isane murmured, a bit lost.

"I have much to learn yet," said Nemu, and stood up, "at any rate, the device is ready."

"Oh," said Isane, suddenly reminded that she was in an active war zone, "er, it's working then?"

"Affirmative."

"Oh. Then... well, we wait, I guess."

Nemu nodded.

"How strange," came a voice from above, rumbling with a low, masculine tone, "you approach a battlefield, looking nothing like warriors. Is this the shinigami way?"

Isane quickly reached for her zanpakutou, looking up, and Nemu too assumed combat readiness. A floor up, his hand firmly planted into the side of a brick wall, there was an arrancar. Letting go of his grip, he dropped down to the street level, standing tall some twenty yards away from the two vice-captains. He was enormous, broad of shoulder, barrel-chested, muscular and taller, even, than the feared Zaraki Kenpachi. The right side of his head was crew-cut, and the left sported a thick, red mane, and across the bridge of his nose was a thin hollow mask fragment looking like a small pair of glasses.

"I am his majesty Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez' fraccion, Edrad Liones," he said, almost courteously, "and it shames me to face off with weaklings such as you."

"Then move on and find something better," Isane said, her heart pounding. This was an arrancar, the real deal, and it was as frightening up close as she had imagined. He radiated raw power, and carried himself with complete confidence. This was bad- engaged in direct combat was the last place the two of them should be. But the universe didn't care about plans, didn't care about what you wanted; you just had to make do with what it gave you. Nearly shaking, Isane pulled her blade out.

"I cannot," said Edrad, taking a step forward, "worthier prey would suit me better, but I could not return to my master and tell him I let shinigami scum live," he said, making a face, "I shall slay you both quickly. Hopefully, the captains will have lasted long enough."

Then he moved, and it was like nothing Isane had ever seen. When she had been young and seen shunpo for the first time, it had seemed like magic, like something impossible. Now, as the arrancar barrelled down on her, one moment a good distance away and the next right in front of her, raising a fist, she was reminded of that moment- only with terror instead of awe.

"Isane!" Nemu cried, moving the same instance as the arrancar did. He struck, his enormous fist coming down, and Nemu's palm caught the blow. Isane staggered back, as Nemu strained against it, her legs firmly planted in the ground, a look of focus across her face.

"Isane, concentrate!" Nemu snapped, as the arrancar took a step back, "I doubt if I can defeat this thing alone."

"Y-yes!" Isane squeaked. She had frozen. At the worst possible time, she had frozen, and if Nemu hadn't acted, she would have taken the hit head on. How bad that could have been, she did not know, did not want to know.
Isane held her blade up.

"Run, Itegumo!" she cried, and she felt a chill as the zanpakutou's hilt snapped into a couple of prongs, her weapon heeding the call eagerly.

"Make it worth my while, little ones," said Edrad, smirking confidently, "because nobody will come to your aid. Your puny little taskforce is about to be eliminated by his majesty and us, his entourage!"

Isane steeled herself. She believed one part of that, at least: nobody was coming to their aid.

---

"Sokatsui!"

A jet of blue fire passed by the blond arrancar's head, but he nimbly evaded it, charging Momo with ease. She had already called out her shikai, the moment he had introduced himself as Ylfordt Granz, but so far her kido had failed to wound him in any meaningful way. Aggressively, the arrancar stabbed and slashed at her, with deadly grace. Momo parried rapidly, grateful that she hadn't slacked off her training following her recovery.

"Don't you forget about me!" exclaimed Rangiku, coming to Momo's aid. Ylfordt locked Momo's blade in place, gave the petite vice-captain a kick to the gut, and quickly spun around to meet Rangiku's attack. The two of them were alone here, as far as either of them could tell, both of them grateful not to face this foe one on one.

"Now why would you go and announce your attack, sis?" said Ylfordt, his voice dripping with arrogance, "If I were in your position, I'd do my best to get a hit in even if it were from behind."

The two of them exchanged a quick series of blows, and although they seemed evenly matched, Rangiku knew the bastard was faster and stronger.

"It's because she knew I can do this!" Momo cried, and Rangiku dashed back as Momo jumped forward. Ylfordt met her attack, but to his surprise, it was no normal cut or thrust, but an explosive orb of light red energy, thrown at him from up close. Ylfordt crossed his forearms, knowing it was too close to easily evade, and let it hit. It sent him staggering back, but to both of the vice-captains' shock, he recovered easily.

"Well, well," he said, sounding very pleased with himself, "it seems you are more bite than bark after all, sisters."

He grinned, and held his blade out at the ready. He charged, and Momo reacted just in time to parry a blow that might have taken her head off. She felt her joints tremble with pain under the pressure of each strike; the arrancar's strength was truly monstrous.

"Haineko!" Rangiku cried, and at her call, her zanpakutou dissolved, a cloud of ash surging toward the arrancar. It raked across his skin, ripping his left sleeve to shreds and scraping against his skin, aiming for his head. His reflexes still lightning-fast, Ylfordt moved back with a quick sonido, putting a fair few yards between himself and his foes. He gave them both a calculating look.

"Rangiku, listen," Momo said urgently, "I know I can handle him if I can get my kido going, but we need to work together. Give me just a few seconds, okay?"

"Sheesh," Rangiku muttered, making a face, "I'm not the fighting type..."

"Please," said Momo insistently.

"Of course," Rangiku scoffed, "what, think I can't handle some full-of-himself rambunctious man? I do that every day at the division. No biggie."

Momo nodded, and raising her hand, she threw Tobiume up into the air. The blade elegantly floated upward, settling above her head. It levitated there, slowly spinning around. There was power in the air; even a human could have sensed it.

"I could still hear you, sis," said Ylfordt, "and I'm not going to let you off that easily!"

Momo gave Rangiku a look as the arrogant arrancar charged forward, and she sighed, quickly moving in between Momo and the arrancar.

"Outta the way, bitch!" Ylfordt cried spiritedly. Remaining focused, Rangiku wielded the hilt of her blade, the ash following her command. It wrapped around the arrancar as he came closer. It seemed to have no effect, but then suddenly, Ylfordt jerked back, spat, and jumped to the side. Blood coloured the pavement.

"My mouth!" he snarled, "That's a dirty trick, woman. You're more ruthless than I guessed."

"What can I say," said Rangiku, "people see my chest, and they assume I got my job because I'm pretty."

Meanwhile, Momo had begun to rise into the air, lifted up by the powers she had prepared. Around her, golden rings made of intricate inscriptions had extended, some massive in size and others smaller, extending out some twenty yards around her. Ylfordt, noticing only too late, dashed aside, evading Haineko's deadly ash, and charged Momo, leaping at her where she was mid-air, level with the second floor. He slammed into a transparent wall of golden light, falling to the ground in almost comical fashion. Waving her hands around, Momo muttered an incantation quickly, the wheels around her spinning and responding to her call. Blue flames much like the sokatsui surged down, but far more powerful and plentiful. Ylfordt scrambled to get away, the heat searing his clothes.

"All right!" Rangiku cheered, "Go, Momo!"

You could help, thought Momo, but refrained from voicing her criticism as she focused. Here and now, her powers fully active, she felt confident. Here, in her own space, she could manipulate reality at will... to an extent, of course. Focusing again, she let a series of lightning bolts rain down on Ylfordt from a series of pre-prepared lettering running down one of the great rings in her sphere. The arrancar was struck several times, and yelped in pain, but still managed to quickly move away, evading most of the attacks.

"What the hell is that, sis?" he demanded, his sonido having taken him some distance back.

"Will you tell me it's unfair?" said Momo, focusing as the rings extended further, "I know many people who might. But if I understand correctly, your kind doesn't believe in fairness."

"Pfeh," said Ylfordt, a grin spreading under his frown, "you're damn right we don't."

"Kick his ass!" Rangiku cheered triumphantly, "Send him home crying, Momo!"

"Don't take me lightly!" shouted Ylfordt, and in a flash, he surged forward, up into the sky, toward Momo.

She was ready.

Weaving her hands in an intricate pattern, she whispered,

"Chronometron freeze."

Ylfordt, whose lightning-fast, thunderous charge had resembled nothing so much as a locomotive's inexorable push forward, an unstoppable juggernaut, slowed. Turning from a dash to a crawl, he eventually froze, stuck mid-air. Not a moment too soon, too; his stretched-out arms were but inches away from Momo's neck.

"What... the hell...?" he said, sounding in between confused and infuriated.

"This is the power of true magecraft," said Momo, floating back a little, "your skills and strength may be new to us, but I guarantee you that you have seen nothing like this before, arrancar."

The rings of her sphere came aglow, thrumming with energy, and suddenly they struck one after another in rapid succession, golden bolts of lightning hitting the arrancar over and over in a relentless, merciless barrage of raw force. Ylfordt screamed. Holding nothing back, Momo maintained the barrage, pouring spell after spell into the modified hollow, nearly emptying her reserves of stored magic. Once she was sure it was enough, once Ylfordt's body was twitching only from the discharge of raw power, once she felt sure he was dead, she finally let up. Dismissing the intricate set of rings, her personal sphere of magic, she let herself float down to the ground. Gracelessly, Ylfordt's body hit the ground, his clothes charred and ripped.

"Way to go!" Rangiku cheered, "Momo, I had no idea you were that strong!"

"I try," Momo said modestly.

"Well, colour me impressed!" said Rangiku, "Come on, let's put that stuff to use elsewhere- I'm sure there are others who need our help."

"I um... I used up most of it," Momo confessed, sounding guilty, "you can't be too sure with these arrancar."

"Ain't... that... so...?"

The voice, a wheezing, raspy cough, sent a chill down both their spines. Ylfordt's body twitched, then one arm moved, propping him up. With great effort, he moved the other, and soon, through groans and grunts of pain, his body trembling, he stood up.

"...oh, shit," said Rangiku, mirroring Momo's feelings exactly.

His arm shaking, he reached for his blade, and somehow managed to stop it from trembling long enough to pull it out of its sheath.

"Skewer, Del Toro!" he snarled, and before their eyes, he transformed. A gust of wind passed them both, and his power surged. Gone were his injuries; gone was the charred, beaten husk of a hollow that had been there but a second ago. In his stead there was a creature magnificent and terrifying. His handsome, devilish face was completely obscured, covered by a bull's skull, long curved horns extending from his forehead. His chest, arms and shoulders were covered in bone, thick and bulging; slimmer near the arm and increasing in girth the closer to his shoulders it got. His legs seemed the same, and his blond mane could still be seen hanging out- it was a bizarre and monstrous mixture of human and hollow.

"You almost got me," he said, his voice ringing with glee, "but close doesn't cut it. I learned that the hard way in Hueco Mundo. You ain't gonna learn it, sisters... 'cause I'm going to kill you both right here."

With that, he charged, the ground shaking under his feet. Momo and Rangiku both dashed to one side each, both thrown off balance by the sheer force of his newly released power.

"Shakkahou!" Momo cried, flinging off a spell mid-air, before recovering, but the spell did nothing but harmlessly bounce off the arrancar's bony armour. He gave her a malicious look.

"Since you volunteered, you're first up," he said, lowering his head, his horns aimed at Momo. She swallowed, and took a deep breath. This... this could be really bad.

---

There had been no warning. One second, Nakeem had been sailing through the air, one leap after another, in search of worthy prey. The next he had been plummeting toward the ground, and it had taken him several seconds to understand that he had, in fact, been intercepted and hit. Very hard. The next moment, he struck the pavement.
Once he crawled out of the freshly made crater, he barely even had time to catch his footing before a black-and-white blur struck him, over and over; his chest, his gut, his throat, his face, his sides, his back. Confused, annoyed, and mildly in pain, he had stood up, trying his best to assess his attacker.

Said attacker, unfortunately, was too rude to even move at a speed where he could see them. Striking out at random, he hit air over and over.

"Where the hell are ya, ya gnat?" he snarled, having no luck still.

Suddenly, the attacks stopped, and some fifteen yards down the street stood a tiny figure dressed in the haori of a captain, with short black hair and long braids wrapped in white cloth.

"They let kids be captains now?" mocked Nakeem, "I don't think I even felt that!"

Truth be told, he would probably be nursing a few bruises, but abnormal speed aside, the captain hadn't yet wounded him. He was used to pain, and this was but a scratch.

"Yer Soifon, aren't ya?" Nakeem said, a metaphorical lightbulb finally turning itself on inside his slow-moving head, "Stealth force head honcho. Good at bein' an annoying, punchy little pest."

"Aizen must have taught you well," said the captain.

He laughed.
"I'm Nakeem, Lord Grimmjow's fraccion. If you think yer knuckles can touch me, yer in for a surprise, bitch. With my hierro, that stuff's barely even a love tap!"

The captain quietly assumed a stance, and Nakeem guessed it was his turn to take the offensive. It's not like he could wait around- his majesty wanted heads busted, and slacking off wasn't an option. Shrugging, Nakeem advanced. In a sudden burst of sonido, he came at her with as much speed as he could muster, bringing his fist down. She deflected his blow to the side with ease, but Nakeem pushed back, aiming to sweep her off balance. Fluid like water, the little captain dodged under his blow- and the next, from his other fists. Retaliating with a dozen blows delivered to his gut in the span of a second, she was certainly faster than him.

"Yanno," Nakeem said, blinking and narrowing his eyes, "that's just pathetic. I told ya, just punching ain't gonna work!"
He raised a fist and slammed it down quickly, his right hook catching her square in the face. Soifon stumbled back, losing her balance but managing to roll up onto her feet. Now confident, Nakeem slowly advanced after her. Was that all?

"You're all pathetic," Nakeem rumbled, starting to get intoxicated with his newfound confidence, raining down blow after blow on the captain, Soifon just barely parrying, her arms up in a defensive pattern, "this shit is exactly why you all deserve to be replaced! This shit's why Aizen turned on ya! Weak, too damn busy practicin' punches and don't doing nearly enough actual punching!"

He slugged her again, catching her in the gut, following up with a backhand, sending her flying. This time, Soifon went tumbling, and although she quickly got to her feet, she seemed to have slowed. It was just like Grimmjow had said. They was strong, but hurt 'em, and they get weaker, same as anything else. Upping his pace, he charged at her, fist raised. Soifon nimbly evaded, but found no openings to strike him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Nakeem cried, his blood boiling, "You keep dancing, ya tiny little gnat! I'll outlast ya if it takes all night!"

Nakeem was not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he did have the survivor's instinct of a hollow sharpened by the most brutal environment in all creation. Never let up. Never let them breathe, not when you were winning. She was focused on his arms- now let's see if she was ready for something else. He lashed out with a foot, and although she blocked the hit, it still sent her sliding back. Again coming at her, he raised a fist, aiming to squash her like a bug before she could recover. He roared triumphantly-

-and then cut his cry short, his mouth agape as his punch was caught one-handed by the tiny captain.

"Thank you," she said, sounding pleased, "you have been very helpful."

"What?" Nakeem said, feeling like something had gone very wrong.

"I haven't faced an arrancar in single combat before. Luckily, I was faced with one both weak and stupid, so I thought it would make for a useful opportunity to learn."

"But... I hit you," Nakeem said, helplessly pushing against her, his muscular frame bulging. It was for naught; her grip was like a vice.

"Pain is a fantastic teacher," said Soifon neutrally, "as I suspected, your skin is too thick for me to easily use my shikai- but it looks like I won't have to."

Suddenly she was gone, and not a moment later there was a jolt of pain as Nakeem's left knee joint was struck from behind, sending him down to one knee. Before he could react, he had been struck on the head as well, nearly falling over.

"You bitch!" Nakeem snarled, getting up to his feet again. His knee ached something fierce, and something here felt wrong- he had been tricked, he'd been had; this is where a smart hollow would run...

"Please," said the little captain, a merciless and frightening look on her face, "educate me to the best of your ability, arrancar."

---

"Before we continue," said Erza, her blade held out, her legs spread wide and firmly planted on the ground, "listen to me. Take this elsewhere. People live around here. Two beings like us fighting... people will die."

Grimmjow broke his stride briefly, and let out a long, loud laugh.

"You think I give a fuck about these shitty humans?" he said cruelly, continuing his advance toward Erza, "They're beneath us. They're weak. Their only place in creation is at the bottom, food for the weakest, so they can grow strong enough to be worthy feed for whoever is above them in the food chain."

"They are what we both came from!" Erza said urgently, "They're the seeds of greatness- yours and mine both!"
Appealing to his better nature, she realised, was not going to take her far.

"Shut the fuck up," said Grimmjow brusquely, "I ain't gonna make any god damn consideration for pathetic humans. They're ants. Ants get stepped on if they don't get outta the way."

Erza's mind raced. There was an industrial area in Karakura, she remembered, and she knew parts of it were on the wane- more than a few buildings waiting to be demolished, long abandoned by the now bankrupt companies that once owned them. If she could get there... well, people might still be hurt, but it would be far less risky than an urban area like this turned into a battlefield. Demonstratively, she sheathed her blade.

"What, ya gonna refuse to fight if I don't play your rules?" Grimmjow's lips curled into a cold sneer, "I don't care. I'll still kill ya. Won't be as fun, but I'll still do it."

"Come see, then," said Erza, assuming a stance for hand-to-hand combat.

Grimmjow shrugged, and as he surged forward, the asphalt under his feet cracked with the raw power he radiated. He came at her with the force of a locomotive, and Erza knew that she was no immovable object.
However, fighting clever meant you didn't have to be. As Grimmjow came at her, throwing a vicious punch, she moved to the side, grabbing his wrist as the punch went forward. Locking his forward leg into her own, she pulled, and a very surprised Grimmjow went face first into the ground. She put her foot down on the back of his head, hard, grinding his head into the pavement. Grimmjow snarled, pushing himself up onto his feet, but Erza had already jumped up into the air, surging high.

"Hey!" he snarled, "Don't ya run away!"

"If you want a fight," Erza cried, "you will have to come get me!"

Grimmjow scoffed, and gave chase. Whatever- he'd still get her, whether she had her useless little humans protected or not. With a powerful leap, he closed the gap between them quickly, his hands reaching out to grab her by the ankle, to throw her to the ground, to brutalize her-

Only for her to suddenly twist her body out of the way, grab him by the wrist and, manipulating the spiritual energy around her, hold herself firmly in place. Grabbing onto his arm with both hands, she let out a loud cry, and threw him far and wide. Grimmjow's eyes widened with surprise as he found himself falling uncontrollably, smashing into the side of a brick building several kilometres away in the blink of an eye.

Erza breathed a sigh of relief. That was something at least. Knowing he would not be content waiting around- nor hurt in the slightest by such a fall- she dashed toward him, blade once again drawn. She was in for pain, she knew that, but at least... at least she had kept the people of Karakura safe. For now.

---

Well now, was THAT a chapter or what?! I'm really happy with how things turned out. However, I'm sure some of you are confused as to how some of the fights went the way they did. Well never fear, I plan to answer all of these questions quickly.

1. "Why was Ichigo Faster than Grimmjow? I thought his Bankai only gave him "average" speed. This isnt like cannon at all."

A good observation, but easy to explain. In cannon, once we got to this point, it was clear that the importance of Bankai was being deminishd, and fast. Now from a story telling perspective it makes sense, to give the readers a sense of fear and scale...the problem is that it makes no damn sense in hindsight. Why? Let me explain.

Ok so Ichigo in bankai gets his ass kicked by Grimmjow right? Ok fine...but then why is it that Kenpachi, with his eyepatch on, is able to hurt and fight on par with Base Nnotira? How is it that TOSHIRO is able to fight on par with Harribel without using SHIKAI and not get utterly wrecked?! I refuse to believe that either characters are THAT much stronger than Ichigo. Shunsui and Stark I can buy, but those two? No way.

In other words. The importance of "Bankai" has not lessoned. With very few exceptions, no bankai is going to lose to an Espada in their base. This isn't because ive made the arrancar weaker though, rather that the bankai are stronger.

...Also,Ichigo's bankais main thing is speed. I'm not taking that away! What makes his bankai special if its not fast!? Its just a power up in that case, and that...so lame. So no, the speed boost it gives him will stick around for...Most enemy's.

This however brings us to the next question some of you may have.

2. "How is Erza without her shikai able to fight on par with Grimmow when Ichigo in Bankai lost? You just contradicted yourself!"

Actually. I haven't, so allow me to explain. Yes, Erza was far more equal than Ichigo was with Grimmjow, but there is a reason for that...The Pills Ichigo takes to deal with his hollow. These pills weaken his spirit energy, and his bankai, while still faster than grimmjow at first...is still a weakened Bankai. Once Grimmjow got a handle on his power, dealing with him is easy. if not for the pills though...The fight would have gone VERY differently.

That's why Erza is doing better than Ichigo. His speed is better sure, but every other area, thanks to his pills, is lesser than hers at the moment.

3. " Why was Di Roy not defeated by Rukia? Hell why are the Arrancar not dead already? Gentai Kaijo is no longer on!"

Well this is also really simple...Their stronger...Kinda. In Grimmjows Flashback his group were all Adjuchas, however, in their first appearance, Aizen called them Gillian. We decided to go with the former choice. Their not as strong as the Espada, but their no pushovers either. In Di roys case in particular, if you read carefully, you would have noticed he doesn't have the cloth over his mask, meaning he's actually at full power unlike the cannon one. In this case, its Nakeem who is the weakest, not Di Roy.

I also hope you all enjoyed the scene with Nozomi and Kisuke. Their going to have a interesting relationship. As for Rangiku and Isshin...Lets face it, that NEEDED to happen in cannon, so I decided to have it here and now.

But the battles aren't over yet my friends, and you can expect some crazy action in the next chapter. I am very much looking forward to the reviews for this chapter. Far as I'm concerned, the Reviews will be like Christmas presents for me.

Thanks for Reading!