Hey guys. Here we are at last, with the final part of grimmjow's attack on Karakura town. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far. I sure know I have. However, it is after this point onwards that things will change even more than before, one of the reasons why being revealed towards the end. I cant wait to hear what you all think, so please leave your thoughts in a review, it really helps motivate us.
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.
Rangiku was frantically trying to patch herself up. The right leg of her shihakusho was covered in blood. The nasty gouge in her thigh had left her feeling faint. A shinigami was not like a human, though, and Rangiku had kept the presence of mind to stay awake and apply basic medical kido. She was no expert, she was the first to admit, but one would have to be an idiot not to know how to patch oneself up even a little. She had managed to stymie the blood flow, choking the stream down to a trickle, and apply a local anesthetic.
Breathing heavily, she managed to stand up, although her right leg was trembling, shaking, and she had to prop herself up against a wall to remain standing. As she fought back a wave of nausea and pain, she finally brought her mind off immediate survival and realized what was happening.
In the distance, she sensed Ylfordt Granz' reiatsu strong and flaring, and underneath it Momo's, weak and fluctuating. Then, she sensed Ylfordt walking away, coming back toward her. An icy cold struck Rangiku as she realized what had happened. The only reason for the arrancar to leave Momo be was that he had killed her. Now he was coming for Rangiku, too, and she was in far worse shape than Momo had been.
Was that it, then?
Rangiku shook her head. No- that was a problem for the future. It might be an immediate future, but it was the future still. Every minute, every second that she was still breathing, that counted. A soldier didn't stop until she was dead.
Which, in Rangiku's case, looked to be within minutes.
Before long, she could see the form of Ylfordt Grantz walking down the street. He had taken his time walking, and the anticipation had been hell- Rangiku was grateful for every second she had to live, but all the same, waiting for an impending doom was worse than the confrontation itself.
He had sealed his zanpakutou, returning to his handsome humanoid form, but Rangiku felt no less terrified looking at him. His eyes were cold, cruel, and self-assured. His hand was on the hilt of his blade. She wondered if she should have run. But, to what end? To whom? She was injured, badly, and she could never move quickly enough to reach help before he caught up with her. Even if she did, would anyone be free to help?
Her leg still shaking, she managed to force herself stable long enough to take a step forward. One, two, three, and she stood out in the street, trembling, blade held in a basic stance.
"I like your attitude, sis," said Ylfordt approvingly, with the arrogant smile of a cat who had cornered a wounded mouse. "You got more guts than I expected."
"I can't stand men who run their mouths," Rangiku said with disdain. "That's not attractive at all."
"Are you eager to die?"
"No," she said truthfully, "but I don't see the point in putting it off. Do what you're gonna do. I'm going to try and die standing, at least."
She was surprised, to herself, how easily she had accepted the fact. Momo was dead- and the fact, though registering, felt completely unreal, alien, as if it had happened to somebody else- and moments from now, she would be, too. After all those years…
Somehow, she had imagined she'd at least meet Gin again. Get some closure. But the world was uncaring and cruel, and her personal issues were none of its concern.
Casually, Ylfordt drew his blade one-handed as he walked toward her. Rangiku took a deep breath, aware that each one could be her last. Staring death in the eye, with nothing but oblivion ahead of oneself, pushed to the very extreme, that was when a body truly knew what it was made of. Rangiku stared death in the eye, and she felt anger. Anger, that she had to die when she had so much living left to do. Anger, that this bastard had killed her friend and thought nothing of it. Anger, that she had been defeated so easily. Anger at the inevitability of her end.
Do not go quietly. Where the words came from, she didn't know, but inside her welled up an overwhelming urge to not lie down and accept it, not yet, not until she absolutely had to. As Ylfordt came within striking range she surged forward with a strength she hadn't known she had left, adrenaline and survival instinct working overtime to fuel a last, desperate attempt. Surprised by the sudden move, Ylfordt just barely parried her attack. Rangiku, running on fumes, struck again and again, pushing him back one step, two steps. Finally she found an opening, and thrust her blade forward, into his chest.
Then, reality ensued. The tip of her blade stopped as it met his hierro, only managing to pierce his clothes. Her arms, weak from blood loss and exhaustion, trembled as she pushed with futility against the arrancar.
"That was more than I expected," said Ylfordt dismissively, "but fun's over."
He backhanded her across the face. Rangiku tumbled backward, thrown onto her back, nearly losing her grip on her blade.
Get up, you bitch! She snarled in her mind, at herself. Die standing! Don't give him the satisfaction of you crawling like a kicked dog!
Her arms and legs shaking, she pushed herself up to her knees, and then with titanic effort, she pushed herself up to one knee.
"You want more?" Ylfordt said. "Well, I'm getting bored. Not waiting."
He raised his blade, and Rangiku stared up at her death, hate in her eyes. Stand up!
She wouldn't close her eyes. She'd at least see it coming.
But, as different as shinigami were from humans, they too lacked control of their own instincts. As the blade came closer to her neck, she blinked reflexively, knowing this was it.
Then, a second later, when she realized her head was still attached to her shoulders, she opened her eyes.
"…the fuck?" Ylfordt grunted. A glowing, gilded chain had wrapped around his sword arm, extending back far, far, over thirty yards.
Blinking, Rangiku looked where they had come from.
"Momo," she said breathlessly.
She stood there in the twilight, holding on to the magical chains with a fierce, stubborn expression, standing tall like a very short, very determined tiger. In her other hand, she held the released form of her zanpakutou. Ylfordt tugged, but Momo held on. Behind her came the lithe form of Inoue Orihime, looking just as determined.
"That's two I owe you, Orihime," Momo said, gritting her teeth. "No offense, but let's not make a habit out of this."
"I'll take care of Rangiku," Orihime said. "Just clear the path forward."
Rangiku blinked. Not only was Momo alive, and with an expression completely in contrast to the fear they had both felt when they had fought, but Orihime seemed focused, clear of mind, more like a fellow soldier than a goofy teenager.
"As if!" Ylfordt snarled. He turned around to face them and began tugging the chain anew. "I don't know how the hell you made it back, but I'll kill you both all the same!"
Suddenly, Momo let go of the chain, the gilded links dissolving into nothing, and Ylfordt stumbled back. Momo opened her hand and wordlessly sent a yellow orb flying at the arrancar. The magical missile impacted, and Ylfordt was thrown off his feet, sent some thirty yards back.
"As you say, Orihime," Momo said with a nod.
"I'll get her back in fighting shape in just a minute," Orihime assured her. "You won't have to do it all alone."
"It won't be necessary," said Momo firmly.
Calmly, she walked toward the arrancar, her skin coming aglow as the runes engraved on her body all came to life. Orihime had not only healed her injuries, she had somehow restored all the magical energy she had stored before the battle, and Momo intended to use it. Feeling like a wrathful god, she made her way toward the monster. She had been dead. She had clutched her broken neck, futilely trying to stop the bleeding, unable to even chant a spell to heal herself. She had been drowning in her own lifeblood. She had fallen into a pit of despair. Things had gone dark, and she had started to slip into merciful unconsciousness when she finally was able to breathe again, when she had seen Orihime's orange light envelop her. Tears had streamed down her face, of relief beyond words. Once she was fully fit, she had wiped them off and felt anger well in her chest. She hadn't felt so weak, so helpless, since Soukyoku hill, and that was a memory she hadn't been keen to revisit. The arrancar had made her feel helpless, weak, terrified, and alone. It had made her experience dying, for the second time in a month. It made her angry. Waving her arms about, she rose into the air, slowly levitating toward him. Energy was crackling around her, the kido stored active and yearning to break free, threatening to come unsealed by force alone. It wouldn't have to wait long.
Ylfordt, getting to his feet, did not look impressed so much as annoyed. Drawing his blade, he leapt up toward her, but Momo made a simple gesture and the asphalt, gravel, and dirt around his feet came alive, locking his legs in place before he got off the ground. He snarled, pulling against it, but Momo wasn't done. She charged more energy into the spell, and the ground writhed like a stormy sea, wrapping around his entire body and pulling him inexorably down, until he was sunk into the ground up to his shoulders.
He would break free soon, but she had time enough. Ylfordt twisted an arm free, the ground around him solid as granite but still cracking under his raw strength. Momo had already begun, muttering the incantation for Shakkaho under her breath, the spell multiplying in power almost a hundredfold as she drew on her own reserves. The red fireball discharged, but rather than directly impact the hollow, it flew to the tip of Momo's zanpakutou, where it grew in size and power. As Ylfordt broke himself further free, leaving only his legs trapped, she raised her weapon high, and then, as the spell peaked in power to a point where it would almost collapse on itself, she brought her blade down and let the spell fire at last. Ylfordt saw it coming, but had no escape in the second it took to hit, and simply braced himself with both arms crossed over his head.
The explosion shook the ground, sending concrete, asphalt, and rock shards all over the immediate area. Every window on the street shattered, glass raining down on floors and pavement. Momo wondered if she had gone too far, shooting a look at Orihime and Rangiku, but it seemed Orihime had erected a shield in time. Relieved, she turned her eyes toward the arrancar. He was alive, clothes torn and parts of his mask fragment blown off, looking raggedy and broken.
"Where was all that back then?" he demanded, standing up despite his injuries.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Momo shot back.
He raised his blade, pointing it at her.
"Skewer, Del Toro!" he called, and the transformation began, but Momo was prepared this time. As he transformed, his energy once again warping to take the form of a minotaur-esque monster, Momo unleashed a hailstorm of kido, unleashing every smaller attack spell she had stored. Fire, lightning, and explosions rained down on Ylfordt, and around her the golden rings extended as she simultaneously set up her own magical construct to establish complete dominance of the space around her.
Ylfordt, alive and royally infuriated, dashed out from the cloud of dust Momo's bombardment had kicked up. He had transformed, but his hulking form had been ravaged, his carapace cracked and broken in several places.
"Shinigami scum!" he snarled, quickly firing off a cero from his left palm. Momo raised her arms, waving them in a defensive pattern, and a multitude of golden circles manifested where the projectile struck, harmlessly deflecting the attack out into empty space. Further enraged, Ylfordt leaped into the air horns-first. Momo looked at him with a fury equal to his own and extended a palm. Ylfordt suddenly found his charge not halted, but redirected; where he had charged upward, he found himself plummeting into the ground, smashing the pavement with his skull.
"The hell?" he demanded. He got up and charged again. This time he found himself on the other side, Momo behind him, running mid-air into nothing.
Ylfordt didn't understand. One moment he was seconds away from sinking his horns into that wretched girl's chest, to rip out her heart once and for all, and the next he'd find himself somewhere else entirely. Again and again he tried, moving with a speed he knew was superior to anything most shinigami could match, and again and again he found himself striking nothing.
"You are so, so lucky," said Momo firmly, "that I only tried to destroy you with brute force the first time."
"Get down here and fight, you coward!" Ylfordt demanded angrily. He had fought his fair share of uneven, unfair fights in his day, endured tricks and dirty cheats- and dealt them, himself- but this was beyond him. Magic!
"Why?" said Momo. "So you can use your superior strength to pummel me?" She raised her arms and began to wave them around in an elaborate pattern. "Are you seriously expecting me to give up an advantage because you ask me to? I thought it was we shinigami who were supposed to be naïve about the realities of fighting."
Roaring with frustration, Ylfordt charged a cero from his mouth, as powerful as he could muster, aimed directly at the accursed Shinigami. She didn't even move, letting it complete, and as it fired Ylfordt saw a haze in front of her. As his cero fired, the haze flickered, and then there was a flicker a few yards away, up above, where his cero ran its course without hitting anything.
"Spatial displacement," Momo explained, "or to keep it in simple terms, short-range teleportation. It's a work in progress, but when it's just a simpleton doing the same thing over and over, it works just fine."
She finished moving her arms, and the circles around her went from glowing a golden yellow to white-hot, the light almost blinding Ylfordt.
"Oh, judgment upon spirit and man alike," Momo began chanting, her voice trembling with anger, "behold, powers wiser, what he reaps who tampers with forces divine! Doom comes, for all souls, for the wicked and the saintly."
Over Momo's head, up in the sky, there formed great clouds of black, unnaturally dark and crackling with lightning. Great bolts of lightning hammered the dome of circles, thicker than Momo, herself. Each one left a shimmering orb of blue electricity, sizzling and warping wildly, like some mad kind of egg. Ylfordt, realizing that what came next had to be dangerous, jumped at Momo again, determined not to let her succeed. Almost casually, Momo moved her hand, and the haze appeared again, sending Ylfordt tumbling to the ground with his own momentum turned against him.
"Justice reigns over the sinful and the just, striking like the hand of god from above!" Momo shouted, concluding the spell at last. Above her, the constant barrage of lightning had left an enormous orb of blue-white lightning, brimming with energy.
"Tentai Kirin!"
Above her, resting on the orb of circles, a positively enormous creature formed. It looked almost like a dragon at first glance, but as it stretched out, its four legs and wild mane made it look more like a horse, a horn adorning its forehead. Its form was wild and unstable, constantly warping and jerking as if only waiting to rip itself apart. It rose to its hind legs, standing at least thirty yards tall, and its roar was deafening, out of this world.
Ylfordt was prideful, arrogant even, but at heart he was a hollow. Seeing the beast, he reacted like an animal, and of fight or flight he chose the latter. Dashing into the air, he made away with haste, intent on avoiding the spell at any cost. Momo pointed at the fleeing arrancar, and the Kirin reared its head and leaped forward. Ylfordt was fast, fast enough to match even a captain, but the beast moved literally with the speed of lightning; as Ylfordt ran, the beast caught up to him with ease. The arrancar cried out, a deep, throaty scream as the enormous spell discharged. There was a blinding flash of light, large and bright enough to be seen across the entire city. Electricity sparked and crackled in the air, and Momo felt the hairs on her back rise, even though the Kirin had exploded hundreds of yards away. It was over almost instantly, the spell burning out with furious speed. The damage, Momo knew, would be massive; she had personally built the spell to be one of overwhelming force, as unstable as it was dangerous. In the distance, she could see the shape of Ylfordt, falling through the air in a downward curve, quite still.
Then the expenditure of power made itself reminded, and Momo sunk to the ground feeling like a deflated balloon, her magic dissipating almost by itself. She felt exhausted, drained. The spell was far from perfect, and it ate up most of her power each time she used it. It was only lucky Orihime had restored her like she had done; otherwise, it wouldn't even have been possible to fire it.
Momo hit the ground, her legs trembling a little as she landed. She walked unsteadily toward Orihime, to check if she was all right. To her relief, the girl seemed unhurt, and next to her was Rangiku, looking fully fit for battle. Her shihakusho, which had been soiled by blood, was neatly mended, as was her leg.
"Momo?" said Rangiku. "Are you okay?"
"I was… going to ask you that," Momo huffed, a little out of breath.
"Never better," Rangiku said, looking at Orihime strangely. "I've no idea what you did, but it was better than anything Fourth Division ever did for me. I don't even feel tired."
"Happy to help!" Orihime said cheerily.
"Well, Momo?" Rangiku said. "No offense, but you look terrible."
"I just… need to sit down for a while," Momo said, and her legs finally gave out. Half falling, half sitting down, she unceremoniously wound up on the ground, propped up on her elbows.
"Wore you out, huh?" said Rangiku. "No wonder. That… thing was crazy."
Momo just nodded weakly and smiled. Somehow, with a bit of luck, she had managed to come out on top.
Getting Grimmjow where she wanted him had been easy enough, as Erza had been able to surprise him. However, once there, the problems had begun; mainly, the problem of him being monstrously strong and twice again as vicious.
One had to look at the positives. The upside was that he didn't seem especially interested in killing civilians for the hell of it. The downside- which, from her perspective right now, was quite considerable- was that he was kicking her ass.
She had no sooner arrived at the scene of the ruined factory than he had charged her, arms raised. Erza had been forced back into a defensive pattern, her blade doing little more than blocking the barrage of ironclad fists coming her way. Erza felt grateful for her armour; he had already slipped through her guard twice, and the impacts had dented her plate but had been lessened in force by it greatly.
"Come on, come on, come on!" Grimmjow cried, laughing like a madman. "Show me what it means to fight a captain, already!"
Erza grit her teeth and focused, taking a deep breath. The sheer relentlessness of his attack was difficult to handle; no time to think, no time to do anything but dodge, evade, and parry. He fought like an animal, a predator honed to perfection by centuries of constant fighting. Parry, block, dodge, evade; in a matter of seconds she would have done all of them a dozen times.
This was no good. Put on the defensive, she would eventually tire out, and robbed of her zanpakutou's power, she would lose.
Then, it happened. Grimmjow, his eyes mad with battle-lust, grabbed hold of her sword, pushing it down, and with his free arm elbowed her in the face. Erza reeled back, stunned, and the espada quickly followed up with a right hook. He clamped down on her wrist, and Erza lost her grip on her blade. He tugged hard once, grabbing on to the hilt, and Erza's blade clattered to the ground. Grimmjow surged forward again, hollering with shrill laughter.
But to his surprise, Erza caught his next blow, deflecting it with her left upper arm. She had managed to recover just in time, and before he could react she slammed an armoured fist into his throat, grateful for the protection the metal granted. Iron skin for iron skin, she thought as she kneed him in the midsection, the shocked espada now the one reeling. She jumped up high, slamming a roundhouse kick into his cheek, and before he could recover she landed on her feet and swept his leg out from under him. Grimmjow fell to the ground like a felled tree, and Erza raised a boot to stomp down on his head. Not an espada for nothing, Grimmjow twisted out of the way just in time, the factory floor cracking under the impact of Erza's foot. Quickly he rolled to his feet, but Erza was upon him.
Raising a palm, she cried, "Shou!"
Kido was not her specialty, but the spell overbalanced Grimmjow nonetheless, and Erza relentlessly pushed forward. She knew she should retrieve her blade, but she also knew she had to push the advantage while she had it. She kicked Grimmjow in the chest, and as he fell he went into a roll again, coming up on one knee, catching her fist in one hand as it came down. Erza, her eyes gleaming with fury, struck again, but Grimmjow caught her other fist, too. She pushed, struggling against his raw strength. In that competition, they were nearly matched, but slowly Grimmjow stood up, holding back against her power, both of them trembling with exertion.
"Fuck me, you actually know how to throw a punch," Grimmjow said, his voice something of a croak from the punch he'd taken to the neck. Raspily, he laughed.
Erza felt deeply grateful to the training she had received from Yoruichi so long ago. The arrancar clearly hadn't expected her to be skilled with and without a blade, and it had allowed her to turn the tide, if only momentarily. Growling, she intensified her efforts, as if just pushing him back would beat him.
"That's more like it, captain," Grimmjow said, his eyes aglow with a hunger Erza hadn't seen since her battle with Kenpachi.
Kenpachi. The thought of it brought her some comfort. As terrifying as this beast was, Kenpachi had been far more frightening, and she had beaten him, even if it had taken her all.
But you had bankai then, a small voice reminded her.
Suddenly, Grimmjow kicked her in the midsection. It wasn't very hard; in fact it only sent her sliding back a good ten yards or so, and it took minimal effort to keep her balance.
"I was getting afraid you was just a pushover," Grimmjow said with a chuckle, putting a hand on the hilt of his blade. "Go on. Pick it up. I ain't got all night."
Erza looked, and beside her feet lay Tetsu no Tama. Her eyes firmly on the espada, ready to match any sudden move he made, she slowly bent down, retrieving the weapon.
"I thought your kind spat on ideas like honour," she said cautiously, a little puzzled.
"Honour?!" Grimmjow barked, and laughed again. "This ain't about some dumb shit like that. I just won't have no punk tell me I only killed a captain 'cause she lost her weapon."
With that, he pulled his blade from its sheath. In the twilight rays of sunshine, coming in through some dirtied windows, it gleamed, looking every bit as deadly as her own blade. Erza took a stance, raising her blade high.
"I will not lose to you in a battle of swords, espada," she said firmly.
"Let's test that, captain."
With that, he charged. His form was poor- terrible, even- but he was fast and furious, and more importantly, all but impervious to harm from a blade sealed like hers was. Erza parried and dodged his wild swings with ease, but the espada fought in a manner no formal school of fighting could have prepared her for; he used his entire body, throwing punches, kicks, tackles and even attempted headbutts, the sword only functioning as an extension of his already deadly skill set. She jumped over a leg sweep, blocked a clumsy stab, and caught a fist with her free hand, the force of his charge unbalancing her. Neatly, she somersaulted, landing behind the arrancar as his impulsive charge was fast and hard enough to carry him past her in the time it took her to land. Erza surged forward, stabbing at his eye. Grimmjow twisted aside, attempting to counter-attack, but Erza evaded with ease. She slammed a fist into his face as her blade stabbed forward, failing to pierce his skin. Grimmjow was set back only momentarily, his lightning reflexes letting him strike back before a second had passed. She dodged back from a vicious roundhouse kick, his foot missing her head by a hair's breadth, and took a stance.
This was no good, too. She had a better chance now; she wondered if the espada even realized it, but he fought better without a blade. His using one gave her at least something to react to, to relate to through her intense training with a blade, but he was still relentlessly powerful.
Tetsu no Tama, I could really use your help right now! she called. But it was in vain; there was only silence and the vicious struggle of survival.
It became apparent with frightening clarity, as Edrad stood towering over them, that any notion of completely avoiding civilian casualties might just be futile. He stood towering over them, twice again as tall as a house- and then some- and he emanated heat, the air a haze around him. He rumbled out a roar, or perhaps just a grunt for a creature of such titanic size, and raised a fist, slamming it down with tremendous force. The three unfortunate shinigami evaded, using ishunpo/i to take them further down the street. The asphalt, they noticed, had melted where he had struck, leaving a glowing pool of lava.
Isane stared at him, pale, momentarily forgetting about the pain in her broken arm.
"We- we need a plan of attack," she said. She licked her lips; her mouth had gone dry, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. "Nozomi, can you do that thing again? There shouldn't be any shortage of energy to use, at least."
"My shikai?" Nozomi responded. "Sure. Ah, in, um, about… three minutes."
What?" Isane snapped.
"It takes its time!" Nozomi protested. "Especially since it absorbed so much energy all at once…"
"Three minutes," Nemu said, nodding calmly. "We'll just have to stall him, then."
"We don't have three minutes!" Isane snapped, knowing she was, by all rights, the senior officer and therefore in charge, and likewise on the edge of breaking down with panic.
"Incorrect," Nemu said, staring down the gigantic Edrad, who had begun to walk toward them with confidence. "You fail to consider a significant advantage."
"And what is that?" Isane said, desperately trying to make sense of a world where she would live longer than three minutes.
"Gravity," Nemu said simply.
"What?" Isane demanded, as incredulous as the first time.
"No, she's right," Nozomi said, blinking. "Look- he's slowed down."
"But Itegumo isn't-" Isane begun.
"It's not your zanpakutou. It's gravity," Nozomi explained. "Spiritual entities like us are not bound by the same restrictions as purely physical ones, but they are not unaffected, either. A being that size, even powered by his own energies, cannot help but be affected by Earth's gravity."
Isane blinked. Edrad was closing quickly, but only because his strides took him a block forward at a time. His gait, however, was much slower than she would have expected- not slow, but slower.
"Correct," Nemu added. "Additionally, his power, which seems to be centered on generating heat, must be extremely draining. He is assuredly more powerful than before, but that is not necessarily to our disadvantage. We were outmatched before- but now, we have maneuverability."
"He'll destroy half the town chasing us!" Isane said, sparing a thought for the hundreds of human souls that would be burnt to death without the arrancar even trying.
"This town will fare no better with us dead," Nemu fired back impassively.
Nemu was built for rationality, and Isane couldn't fault her logic. With them dead, nothing would stop him. They just had to make the best of a bad situation…
Edrad was almost upon them now, raising another fist.
"You need time?" said Nemu to Nozomi.
"Yes," said the green-haired researcher, nodding nervously.
"Very well."
With that, Nemu charged to meet Edrad.
"Nemu!" Isane cried, her heart skipping a beat for what had to be the umpteenth time as the arrancar's fist came down. Through the smoke the impact created, the street liquefying under his touch, Nemu surged up, grabbing onto his wrist and propelling herself upward, toward his face. Futile as it was, she aimed a punch at his eye.
Meanwhile, Isane and Nozomi had been forced to skip back another couple of blocks, the lava threatening to burn them alive. Nemu was fighting bravely, Edrad rumbling angrily as he swatted at her. Isane stared as her girlfriend fought, nimbly skipping around the arrancar's enormous body, avoiding death over and over.
"Vice-captain?" Nozomi said.
Isane didn't answer.
"Vice-captain Kotetsu?" Nozomi said, a bit more firmly, and Isane shook her head.
"Please focus," said Nozomi. "We need a plan."
"Ye-yes, we do. Well, um, your zanpakutou, right?"
"It could work, sure," Nozomi said, "but there's no guarantee it will be enough. We need to do more. Could you use Itegumo again?"
"I- well, yes, but…" Isane said, flustered, stealing a glance at Nemu again; she was dodging out of yet another attack. The roof of a house crumbled under the missed blow from Edrad.
"Focus!" Nozomi said. "Can you or can't you?"
"Look," Isane said desperately, "in theory, yes, Itegumo could affect him, but… a thing that powerful, with that much actual heat? It would take literal years!"
Nozomi bit her lip. "…And if I had a way around that?"
Isane rolled her eyes, feeling herself almost snap.
"Look, I'd love to live in a world where that was the case! But we don't! I can't, and I'm not saying that as in I lost hope- I physically can't. He's too damned powerful. I'd love to somehow be able to freeze him solid and then roast him with his own power. I'd also love to one day have a perfectly normal relationship, or be promoted to captain, or actually stop being insecure about myself, but that's not happening, either!"
She stopped to breathe, very much on edge. She was used to stress, the kind where life and death mattered; that was just being a doctor. But, usually it wasn't her life on the line.
"I said, what if I had a way?"
"I'd take it and turn the burning bastard into the biggest glacier you ever saw!" Isane snarled, clawing at her hair with her one good hand.
Nozomi reached into the folds of her shihakusho and pulled out a small vial.
"Normally, I wouldn't use this," she muttered. "It's not nearly properly tested, and I'm not at all sure about the dosage of the chemicals involved, but-"
"Tell me what that is, right now!"
"It's, um, an experimental serum. Personal research," said Nozomi, twitching uncomfortably. "It's not nearly at the stage where I'd even test it on rats, but… it's literally life or death right now."
"Shut up and tell me what it does!"
"Well um, in theory-"
"Talk!"
"It's supposed to supercharge the reiatsu flow that regulates the bond between a zanpakutou and its user, as well as upping general spiritual output. In theory it should… make you stronger? Like, a lot. That's the idea. I only brought it with me to see if Mr. Urahara could have a look at it-"
Quickly, Isane snatched it out of her hands, fumbling, almost dropping the vial.
"What's the worst that could happen?" she asked. "Like, how bad?"
"Your reiatsu overcharges, burns out, and you die."
There was an audible smack ringing out, and Nemu sailed through the air. Edrad had finally hit his mark. She was partly aflame, and she crashed into the side of a brick building, breaking the wall outright where she hit. A few seconds later she stood up, wobbling on her legs. Her left cheek was a fiery red, scorched by flame, and her clothes were smoking.
"I'll do it," Isane said, making a move to take the lid off the vial.
"Wait!" Nozomi said hastily. "Wait for the right time. I can't be sure if it'll even work- and if it does, I can't be sure it will even last a minute. We need to co-ordinate an attack."
Isane nodded.
"Was that… time enough?" Nemu said, having walked up to the two of them, her voice trembling a little from the exertion.
"Just about," Nozomi said with a nod. "Actually… can I ask you for one thing?"
"Whatever it takes," said Nemu, and Isane's heart ached for her; so determined even after all of that.
"I need that bastard to generate a lot of lava all at once- as much as possible. Once he's done so, I'll absorb the energy, overcharge my blade as much as I dare, and hit him. Right before that happens, Isane, you do your thing."
Isane nodded. "This will be dangerous. Nemu, are you up for it?"
"You are injured. Nozomi is considerably less experienced than either of us. There is no other choice."
Isane nodded again. "All right, do it."
Still a little unsteady on her legs, Nemu charged in, a look of determination on her face.
"Come, then, woman!" Edrad snarled, his voice like so much thunder. "Come and die like a warrior!"
He brought down his fist, and Nemu was nearly thrown off her feet by the shockwave alone as she narrowly dodged his punch, using the wall of a building to dash back a little. Edrad snarled. His shoulder came aflame and his left arm aglow, and lava poured down his arm. It seemed he could not only melt rock, but create it as needed, a terrifying power. Nemu jumped aside, her skin blistering under the searing, stifling air as the pool turned into a stream, well on its way to becoming a river.
"It's time," said Nozomi.
"I'll get into position," Isane said, still trying to act like the senior officer. "Let me know when you're ready."
"You'll know, all right."
Isane nodded and dashed up the side of a building onto a nearby rooftop where she could get a good view of the battlefield. Nemu was still alive, and she could see Nozomi in the distance, getting closer.
She held up the vial, thumb on the cork. For a moment, she hesitated, doubting- but then she sensed Nemu, thrown back once more, and she popped the vial open, downing its contents without hesitation. The liquid was oily and unpleasant, feeling like ice as it went down, and she hoped that if she died, it would at least work.
Nozomi dashed forward to the stream of lava. Edrad had stopped his attack when he'd finally gotten hold of Nemu, throwing her aside like a ragdoll, but there was still plenty to work with. She plunged the two rods that made up her shikai into the edge of the lava, feeling the skin on her arm blister and burn as she did so. She forced herself to keep on, to endure the pain, and felt a rush of power as her zanpakutou drank of the arrancar's energy. The rush was intense, the sheer force of it making her dizzy, almost causing her to lose consciousness. She was already approaching the limits of what her blade could handle, and she would need more, so much more…
"Arazome," she whispered quietly to herself, "please bear with me…"
Nemu had defiantly gotten to her feet, standing tall despite her injuries. Several of her ribs were broken already, and she was sure there were at least a dozen other fractures, but broken bones and pain were like old friends to her, things she had learned to live with, defy, and conquer.
"Edrad Liones!" she called out as loudly as she could. "I am still alive, arrancar! Your strength has not been adequate to slay me yet!"
The plan hinged on the others not being discovered yet. Nozomi was in plain sight, and Isane was not far, and if either of them was taken out, then they would lose. Luckily, the arrancar answered her challenge, her bold proclamation enough to spur his pride and ego to action again. Boldly, he stepped through the lava he had created, seeming unaffected.
"I will remedy this, then, shinigami dog!" he rumbled.
At first, she had felt nothing at all except the bitter aftertaste. Then, she had shaken and trembled, enough that she had fallen to her knees, by surprise more than a loss of motor control. The pain of her broken arm, irrelevant. Her zanpakutou, its voice blaring in her mind like it was channelled through high-powered speakers. Isane's grip on Itegumo was tight, so much so that she felt like her fingers would snap. Her energies were roaring, the matter of her soul abuzz with activity. It was like feeling her skin crawl, except instead of it just being her skin, it was her entire body. It was maddening.
But, the power… the power. She could feel all of Itegumo. She could sense the full strength the zanpakutou had kept from her. The blade had become covered first in frost and then in solid ice without her even noticing it. From her feet, a ring of cold was spreading, the air around her like an arctic gale. Yet, she felt comfortable with it, at ease- well, aside from the crawling in her body.
"Forgive me, Itegumo," she murmured, "but I have to do it."
She walked to the edge, raised her blade, and pointed it at Edrad.
"Run," she commanded, feeling the cold extend.
Down at the ground, Nozomi was struggling to contain the power. The lava had begun to lose its heat, so quickly had she absorbed its energy. She needed the absolute maximum her weapon could handle, or it wouldn't be enough. Beside her, Nemu struggled, having taken a blow directly, either too weak or too tired to fully evade. Amazingly, she had only sunk to one knee, somehow managing to hold back the blow. Edrad grinned, and his shoulder came aglow. Another second, and he would envelop her in lava, finally burning her to death.
"HEY!" Nozomi cried, finally finished. The power she held in her hand now was volatile, trembling as if ready to explode, and Arazome was crying out in pain, grunting and roaring with the Sisyphean effort Nozomi was putting it through. Isane hadn't made her move yet, but there was no time.
"What?" said Edrad, and too late he sensed the enormous power radiating from Nozomi. "You little brat, I'll kill you first!"
Both his arms flared with heat, Nemu collapsing as he let off, both hands aiming for Nozomi now. She jumped into the air, knowing she only had one shot, but Edrad reached out for her, his arms coming dangerously close.
Then, suddenly, he froze. Literally, he froze. The fumes and heat died down, and frost began to cover his skin. There was steam, his energy fighting back against the sudden cold, but it was overwhelmed, quashed and suppressed.
"NOW!" Isane roared, sounding quite unlike herself, straining with effort, her voice shrill and loud.
Nozomi finally released the energies contained in her blade, coloured a dark yellow-orange by the lava it had drawn from. It rapidly coiled out, Nozomi almost losing control as it discharged. Once it had readied it all, she knew, she would have but a second to put it to use. Gritting her teeth, she let it finish, then waved her hands once. Edrad cursed, struggling to stand up, to get out of the way, but his movements were truly slow and sluggish now. Nozomi felt the power rush as the energy sought its target, a blind, raw force of nature. Her zanpakutou shook in her hands as the energy began to lash out, tendril after tendril of energy raking across Edrad's body. The bony carapace on his arms broke and shattered, and the fragment across his nose was all but pulverised as a tendril of force slapped across his face, his own energies repurposed against him.
The process took only a few seconds, but the sheer force of Nozomi's shikai, retooling and moulding the energies to her purposes, was more than enough. Edrad let out a long roar, his transformed shape devastated and ruined. He stood upright, little remaining of his transformation but bone fragments, and for a terrifying second Nozomi was afraid it hadn't been enough. Then, like a redwood severed at the foot of its trunk, he fell over, quite unconscious.
Nozomi felt her zanpakutou snap in two, two thirds of the blade severed from the weapon, and she sunk to her knees, feeling exhausted.
There was a thud on the ground as Isane fell from the rooftop to the ground, collapsed with exhaustion. Not far away, there lay Nemu, similarly broken down.
Nozomi finally allowed herself to do the same and fell over on her back. This was what adventure was like? She much preferred the science lab, then.
Grimmjow's blood was pumping, his heart racing, a wicked grin perpetually plastered across his face. This was what he lived for. He moved with ruthless grace, every movement aimed at destroying his enemy. His foe was almost as skilled as he was, it seemed, which was just the way he liked it. Nothing about climbing the ladder was about bullying weaker opponents; that was entertainment, at best. He lashed out with his blade again and again, pushing the weaker captain back each time. Deep down, in between the rapid surges of deadly movement, he wondered why she hadn't released her blade. It would be impossible to imagine a captain without a functioning zanpakutou… but then again, he wasn't losing. Why would she be holding back?
Slamming a fist into her chest as their blades clashed, making a serious dent, he realized he didn't care. Hearing the involuntary gasp as he knocked the air out, pushing his advantage, it was all too pleasurable to let himself get hung up. If she wanted to be an idiot and fight halfway, then so be it. Hueco Mundo wasn't fair, and neither was Grimmjow.
She caught his blade, directed it into the ground, caught his fist as it came in, and in one swift movement brought up her weapon, slamming the butt of the hilt into his face. Grimmjow was momentarily stunned, and she pressed her attack. For a moment he felt rage at the pain, an old kind of rage from when he was weak, afraid, and desperate, but he remembered almost immediately: he was strong, and so was she, and he couldn't possibly ask for more.
Erza pushed back, meeting his clumsy strokes with a desperate grace. He wasn't very efficient, but he didn't need to be. With such raw power, without her bankai to aid her, she was at a natural disadvantage. He came at her again, and Erza dodged under his blow, thrusting a palm under his chin.
"Shou!" she cried. The spell, striking at such an unexpected angle, caused him to stumble and nearly lose his balance. Immediately she pushed her advantage, striking him rapidly, her blade moving too quickly for him to parry. But all the same, his skin absorbed almost all of the damage, her strikes leaving little more than scratches. It had repeated itself ad nauseam, her superior technique allowing her an edge, only for his superior physiology to deny her any real advantage.
"Come on, come on, come on!" Grimmjow demanded loudly, sounding uncomfortably like a certain Zaraki. "You gotta hit harder if you wanna live, woman!"
Erza skipped back, trying to think. This couldn't go on. At this rate, the best she could hope for would be for Soifon or Byakuya to finish their fights and come to her aid, but she might tire out before then, or they might be too worn out to help- and even if it worked, she'd have to explain why she hadn't just unleashed her bankai.
Necessity was the mother of invention. Somewhere, far back in human history, a bold individual, tired of the cold, had approached a dying forest fire. He had grabbed a burning piece of wood, taken it back to camp, and nurtured the flame with more fuel. Eventually he'd have figured out how to make sparks. Somewhere, sometime, somebody had tamed fire because they had to. With one's back up against the wall, exceptional people worked the best.
In Erza's case, it wasn't invention, but reinvention. A technique not practiced for over a century came to mind, mostly neglected because her fighting style had had no use for it. Even without her shikai, she knew of a way to increase the power of her swing.
Carefully she took a stance, legs wide apart, and sheathed her blade, one hand on the hilt, and the other in the sheath.
"The fuck you up to?" Grimmjow said amusedly. Then, his amusement having stopped him only for a second, he charged.
Time seemed to slow. Erza's eyes had narrowed, and she knew she only had one chance to do this. His blade was held to the side, raised up for another clumsy, predictable strike. There was one window, small as the blink of an eye, that she had to hit.
Grimmjow hit her in half of that time.
He wasn't sure just what the hell had happened. She had taken a defensive posture, he'd attacked, and suddenly he was staggering back, feeling the familiar pain of being cut- for the first time in this new, magnificent body. Surprised more than angry, he caught his balance, staring down across his chest. A cut running from his left shoulder almost down to his right hip had formed, ugly marks along the fresh laceration. Warm blood was trailing down his chest generously, and he put his free hand to the wound, examining it.
"What the hell?" he muttered.
The Japanese called it iaido. Erza had once known it by another name, but the principle was the same. Using the movement of drawing one's blade from its sheath, one increased the striking power. It was a technique designed to end a fight in a single blow- and against a lesser opponent, it might well have worked.
Grimmjow's look of shock soon melded into one of determination.
"Good," he said. "I was wondering when you were gonna stop playing around, shinigami."
He raised his free arm, blood splattering onto the factory floor, and in one swift movement launched a dozen bala, the mini-ceros lashing out with deadly speed. Erza jumped out of the way and brought up her blade in time, just barely, to parry the blow that came next. The injury seemed to only have solidified the espada's desire to kill her, and if it had been a hard fight before, it was all the harder now. He swung his blade harder and more quickly, and his loose, thuggish style combined with its raw power made it hard to predict, hard to read, hard to counter. Blood gushed down his chest, but he didn't seem to care.
She caught a knee to the gut and lost her balance, turning her fall into a roll. She tried her best to get to her feet, but he'd be upon her before she succeeded.
"Soukatsui!" she shouted quickly. The spell just barely manifested in time. Grimmjow took a second to strike the flames aside, the weak spell only distracting him, and Erza gained the seconds she needed to stand up, the edge of his blade slicing through the air where her head had been a second ago.
He could hurt. He could bleed. This wasn't impossible. But, damned if he wasn't making it close.
She stood upright, blade sheathed and arm at the hilt, ready for another strike. Grimmjow, who had readied for another mad dash, paused briefly, and Erza thought she could see his thought process. The savage beast, nearly on autopilot, was discarded as his brows narrowed. He gave his blade a quick look, readied it with a quick swing, easing up a tense wrist, and leaned forward. She hurt me already, so I can't just run in blindly, that's what Erza thought she could read in his face and body language, and it was frightening. He was impulsive and reckless, yet when forced to do so, he seemed capable of restraint- which potentially made him a more dangerous enemy than Kenpachi.
Not one for hesitation for more than a second or so, Grimmjow dashed forward again. Erza readied herself, then drew her blade out with great force. Grimmjow broke his charge momentarily, leaned back, and just barely caught her strike with his own sword, sending sparks flying as the two edges clanged against each other. Not a moment later, he jumped up, aiming a vicious sweeping kick at her head. Erza dodged, feeling a whoosh of air above her head as she skipped back, re-sheathing her blade once more. Grimmjow pressed his attack, stabbing forward. Erza moved aside, his strike going wide, and seized the opportunity. Striking hard and true, she slashed at him. Grimmjow twisted out of the way, but he couldn't quite manage, couldn't quite get away, and he quickly shielded himself with his free arm. Erza's blade raked across it, drawing blood, but the strike wasn't direct enough to do more than break the skin. Aiming for the unexpected, she surged forward, pressing her attack before he could recover. A weak spot, perhaps, or just keeping him occupied- anything but letting him set the pace again.
Grimmjow nimbly parried, out of speed more than skill, but he was being pushed back, one step after another. Realizing the situation he was in, he snarled, lashing out with a fist. Erza moved her head aside, and his swing went wide. He unbalanced just slightly, and Erza punished him for it, slamming the hilt of her blade into his nose. He grunted with pain and stumbled back. Erza struck again, stabbing forward, right into the wound she had already given him, feeling a momentary satisfaction as Tetsu no Tama found purchase in his flesh, sinking several inches of steel into his body. It was tough and thick, like old leather; it seemed it wasn't just an arrancar's skin that was hard- but she was cutting him all the same.
But, she had come in close quarters with an espada, and she hadn't hurt him nearly enough. Although his blade was not in position to strike, it didn't matter. Grimmjow let go of the weapon and with one hand lashed out, grabbing her by the throat. His other hand made a fist that slammed into her face, hitting with the force of a sledgehammer. Erza grunted and twisted her blade, hoping to cripple him with pain. Grimmjow yelped, the noise turning into an angry cry as he hit again, and again, relentlessly pounding her face. Erza was seeing stars, and knew that if this continued, she'd lose consciousness. Not long after that, she would lose her life.
Twisting her blade again, she ripped it free, and as Grimmjow paused briefly, she kicked him in the midsection, sending the both of them reeling back. They were both breathing heavily, but the arrancar seemed no less enthusiastic.
"Hah," he said. "Now, that's more like it, captain."
He scrambled forward, hastily grabbing up his blade from the ground, and dashed toward her again. Blood was staining his clothes red, gushing generously from his injuries, but it did nothing to deter him.
Erza, still recovering from the furious strikes to her head, only barely parried. Her head was pounding, and her vision had become blurry, and she hoped she hadn't gotten a concussion. On autopilot, over a century's worth of muscle memory guiding her actions, she dodged, evaded, and parried, but Grimmjow had a clear head whereas she did not. Somehow- she wasn't sure how- he pinned her blade down, grappled with her sword arm, and slammed a fist into her throat. He let go, and she stumbled back, coughing loudly as she tried to breathe. She still held onto her blade, still stood, but it was a hair's breadth from going from bad to worse to catastrophic. Grimmjow, smelling blood in the water, came in with a heavy overhead swing. Holding up her blade, Erza parried, but it had only been a feint- just as soon as she caught his strike, he had kicked her in the midsection, sending her flying back. Feinted! By a shoddy fighter like him! If she hadn't been almost unconscious, Erza would have been furious.
No sooner had she slammed into a factory wall than Grimmjow was upon her again, raining down blow after blow on her. Erza parried lamely, but was stunned from the hit, and only barely kept up. Grimmjow pinned her blade against the wall with his sword, and Erza felt a sobering pain as the tip of his blade ran through her wrist. The hand of his other arm went to her throat again, and with a malicious leer on his face, he stared into her eyes, only inches away.
"A right, proper hard fight," he said, "that's how it's supposed to be, captain."
His fingers tightened across her neck, and Erza realized she couldn't breathe. Forcing herself not to panic, she tried to think. She had but seconds before it would start become too much. With her free hand, she slammed at his throat, his face, but he was too close and she couldn't get the momentum. Grimmjow laughed loudly, enduring her futile struggle with ease.
Then, on instinct, all other options expired, she pushed a knee forward, as hard as she could, driving it into his groin. It took a second, but Grimmjow's grip slackened, and he halfway bent over, his hand grasping between his legs. His mad laughter had turned into a squeal.
Erza grit her teeth and ripped his blade out of her wrist. Grimmjow stumbled back, still holding onto his blade. She coughed, uneasily stepping away from him, taking a few much needed breaths.
"I was just wondering," she said, "just how much like a human an arrancar is. It seems you're not that different after all."
"What- you…" Grimmjow growled, struggling to stand upright. "I mean, what the hell?" he growled.
Erza didn't respond. Normally she wouldn't strike a wounded opponent, but she had been pushed past the point of chivalry. Lashing out with a sweeping kick, much like the ones he'd aimed her way over and over, she caught him across the cheek. Grimmjow fell over, and from a half-hearted roll he managed to stumble onto his feet with considerable effort.
"I don't know," he growled, standing upright, shaking with the effort, "what the fuck that just was, but it fuckin' hurt. I'm gonna kill-"
The next instance, Erza was on him, and Grimmjow barely even had time to bring his blade up. Erza batted it aside with ease, and with an armoured fist she struck at his throat, returning the favour. She slammed a palm into his nose next, and jabbed her fist into his wound again. Grimmjow screamed with pain, and lashed out with his blade in a wide, sweeping arc. Erza skipped back, neatly evading the attack. Grimmjow breathed heavily, his body trembling a little- not from exhaustion, Erza was sure, but from more pain than he had ever anticipated. He shook his head, like a dog shaking the water out of his fur, and shot her a determined look.
The next instant he was behind her, and Erza only barely parried. It was a terrifying thing- after all the pain she had given him, he had barely even slowed down. The espada, it seemed, were truly the pinnacle of Aizen's creations.
He launched into a series of strikes, cuts, thrusts, and kicks, relying again on that intuitive, rough, unpredictable style, once again putting Erza on the defensive. But, as difficult as it had been to anticipate him, she began to adjust. His lack of form wasn't doing him any favours. She was a master of the blade, well above such clumsy attacks as the arrancar made, and her experiences with Yoruichi- a master of the hand-to-hand- meant that now, once she started to get used to his style of attacks, he wasn't as difficult to handle. He was deadly, fast, and dangerous, to be sure, and too tough to easily be hurt by her attacks, but nonetheless… he was manageable. To her surprise, Erza found herself dodging, evading and parrying his every attack.
Grimmjow, growing frustrated, snarled and disappeared in a swift step of sonido only to reappear behind her, a sweeping kick aiming at her head. Erza blocked his attack with a forearm, reeling under the vicious power of the blow, and simultaneously parried a cut from his blade.
Then, she saw it. In the palm of his free hand, the red glow of an orb of destruction.
"Bye, captain," he jeered gleefully. Erza, knowing she was out of time, not even a second to spare until it fired, twisted aside. It was not enough. The orb fired, catching her almost dead centre. She was violently thrown back, all sensation lost for an instant. Then, as she slammed into- and through- a brick wall, it all came back. Her right side was on fire, burning with heat, and her entire body felt like it had been through a mangler.
Approaching her with victorious cheer was Grimmjow, blade in hand, eyes narrowed. She lay still on the ground, quite still, hoping it would work.
"Dumb bitch," Grimmjow said. Erza could feel him charging another cero in his hand. "Ya really shouldn't have held back."
Then, as he came in close, just within striking range, Erza surged to her feet. A thousand muscles screamed in protest, but Erza blocked it out with a wall of rage and determination, grabbing Grimmjow by the wrist. Before the shocked arrancar could react, she slugged him with an uppercut, grateful for the strength of her steely gauntlet. Grimmjow reeled back again, and Erza pushed herself forward, ignoring the hurt in her body. Taking her blade in both hands, she cut at him relentlessly, hacking and slashing at her foe, recklessly striking him with all she had. Grimmjow, surprised still, slipped back and away with another sonido. Erza stood upright, breathing heavily.
Somehow, it seemed her armour had absorbed most of the blast. She wasn't sure how, but made a mental note to thank Urahara later. She still burned, still hurt, but she was on her feet.
"Fuck, you're a pest!" Grimmjow snarled. The two of them stood out on the street now, the sun setting in the distance.
"And you're arrogant," Erza said, staring him down. "If you weren't, you'd have won already."
Snarling, his patience lost, Grimmjow charged. Erza anticipated his strike with ease, and parried, driving his blade into the ground. Grabbing his arm with her free hand, she used his own momentum to flip him over, the espada slamming into the street. Twisting his arm, she made him drop his blade, and stabbed her own sword down. Grimmjow twisted out of the way and ripped himself free of her grip. Erza skipped back, unwilling to try her luck in such close quarters in her current state, and Grimmjow got to his feet, clumsily grabbing hold of his dropped sword.
"Right, enough fuckin' around," he growled. He assumed a stance, legs wide apart, and to Erza's surprise he ran his off-hand across the wound in his chest, colouring his hand red. He raised his hand, flinging the blood into the air, and as his reiatsu began to grow explosively, Erza realised it had to be some kind of technique. He stabbed his blade into the street, and grabbed hold of the wrist of his bloodied hand, holding on to it firmly.
"Behold the true power of an espada, you bitch captain!" he snarled, triumph seeping through the anger of his tone.
Around his hand, malevolent hollow energy arced like lightning, white-blue and intense. An orb of raw force had begun to materialize, and Erza's eyes widened. That thing, if it was what she thought it was, could wipe out a small part of the town with its blast radius. Hundreds could die, even in an area as relatively deserted as this. Acting immediately, she dashed up to the roof, aiming for the tallest building she could find.
"You can't run from this!" Grimmjow hollered. "Gran Rey Cero!"
Behind her, just as she found purchase on a tall building nearby, Erza sensed the cero discharging with force, with raw power of a kind that made everything else she had seen so far seem trivial and small. She hadn't a second.
"Bakudou thirty-nine: Enkousen!" she cried as she twisted around, facing the blast. The hastily constructed spell wouldn't be nearly enough to stop the force, but it could perhaps lessen the impact. Something had to be better than nothing.
The world went white for a moment, and Erza blacked out. She awoke seconds later, realizing that she was moments away from colliding with the ground. With the reflexes of a cat, she twisted around, trying her best to land on her feet. She succeeded only partly, managing to turn a full-blown crash into a clumsy roll, one that still hurt something terrible. She skid across the street, somehow still able to hold onto her blade through all this chaos. Groaning with pain, she paused, wanting very badly to just pass out once and for all. However, she forced herself to stay awake, and after a minute of trying, she finally managed to move. Her every muscle shaking, she stood up, leaning on her blade like a cane. Blinking, her world still something of a haze, she looked around. She breathed a sigh of relief as she looked at the cityscape. The top of the building she had stood on had been blown off, but nothing else seemed harmed, and the building itself seemed intact; anyone inside would have made it.
"You."
Grimmjow's voice, filled with loathing and anger, rang across the street.
"How the fuck are you still alive?"
Every part of her body roaring in protest, Erza took a step forward, raising her blade.
"You're a poor shot, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."
Emotions played across his face, rage mixed with incredulity. Truth be told, Erza was sure she had only got lucky- that blast had certainly been powerful enough to kill her if it had hit directly. A glancing blow, an aim slightly off centre, her spell being more effective than she'd thought- or perhaps all put together- had let her live. Stubbornly, she stepped toward him. Grimmjow was breathing heavily; it seemed he, too, had tired some.
"Fine!" he snorted. "I'll kill ya if it takes me all night, bitch!"
He grabbed hold of his blade, leaned forward, and ran his hand across its length.
"If that's what it takes, whatever," he said, and his power began to climb. "Grind, Pan-"
"No," a calm voice said, "you will not."
Soifon had gone through the city carefully, jumping from one roof to the next, examining each potential enemy with care. Fortunately, Erza's team seemed to be competent enough; most foes had already been killed by the time she made her way through the combat zone. As she had expected, their leader had been the most troublesome, but Erza was keeping him busy. Soifon was in no rush; better to make sure they had all been killed, rather than rushing through dangerous enemy territory. She had already disposed of a blond weakling arrancar, clearly exhausted from his fight, barely able to raise a hand against her. She had cut his throat, quickly and efficiently, and moved on.
Now, as she came upon another of these creatures, alive but weak, she knew she was right to be thorough. Whether through the incompetence of her team members or the sheer tenacity of their foes, some had survived. Soifon slipped down onto the street quietly, not intent on giving the monster a chance to react or retaliate. He was tall and muscular, a mane of red hair spilling down half of his scalp. He was in a bad way, his blade broken, clothes ripped, blood and burn injuries riddling his skin as he stumbled slowly across the streets.
Good. All the less likely he'd be able to put up a fight. Soifon slowly slipped her blade from its sheath, creeping up to the wounded arrancar. She took a few final steps, waited as he was about to turn around a corner, and then dashed-
Then suddenly, there he was. Where he had come from, Soifon didn't know; all she knew was that a lithe arrancar with dark hair suddenly crossed her path, his blade parrying hers. Immediately she somersaulted back, landing with her blade held up in a defensive position. She cursed inwardly. Had she focused too much on the wounded arrancar? Did this new arrival possess some special ability to mask himself, or had she just been careless? He had moved with absolutely tremendous speed and precision, that was for sure, and only to defend the life of this wretched arrancar, not to attack her?
"Edrad Liones," said the arrancar, his voice smooth, calm, and collected, "are you badly injured?"
"L-lord Valiente," rumbled Edrad, a shocked look passing his face as he saw Soifon for the first time. "I am- I am able to walk, but not much more than that."
The arrancar nodded.
"Captain Soifon," he said coolly, keeping his guard up but otherwise making no move to attack, "I am Lanza Valiente, the octavo espada. I am well aware of your capabilities, commander of the stealth force, and I have no doubt you would be able to overcome me. However, I am not your mission, nor do I intend to fight you unless I am forced."
"What is the meaning of this?" Soifon demanded.
"I am come to collect what remains of the Septimo's retinue. Unfortunately, it seems Edrad is the sole survivor. As such, I suggest you let me leave with him. You would be better served tackling the Septimo, himself. Would you rather aid your comrades, or get held up fighting yet another espada, one that wishes you no ill?"
Soifon scoffed.
"I do not trust you, espada,"
"As is to expect of an enemy on the battlefield. However, do I speak falsely? Is your mission not aided more by your aiding the battle against the espada trying his damnedest to kill one of your fellow captains?"
Your mission.
He was right. Aizen had to have briefed his arrancar on the nature of her organization, as best he knew, but it surprised her even one of them had memorized it. It was true- the mission mattered most, and the mission was to guard Karakura Town. Further conflict was not only unnecessary, but to be avoided. If the espada was truthful, it was a gift.
"Edrad," said the octavo, "can you open a garganta?"
"Y-yes, lord," Edrad stuttered. Wearily, the giant raised his hand and ripped open the fabric of reality, sheer blackness revealing a pathway into Hueco Mundo.
"With your leave, captain," said the espada politely.
"Begone, hollow scum," Soifon said neutrally, keeping her guard up. The octavo nodded, and nudged Edrad. Looking grateful, the huge arrancar stepped through the portal. After him, the espada followed, carefully backing into the tear. He bowed slightly as the rift began to close. Soifon stared at him, eyes narrowed.
Then, as it closed, she took a second to look around, sense for potential enemies. With none to be found, she continued. Whatever that interlude had been, it was over, and there was work left to do.
"What?!" Grimmjow demanded irritably. Further down the street, another arrancar had walked up, exuding a calm, collected presence, power humming quietly under her gentle appearance. She had green hair, a red mark across her nose, and a bust to rival Erza's.
"I said you are to return immediately."
"Butt the fuck out, Oderschvank!" Grimmjow snarled. "This is my fight-"
"What was the one order Lord Aizen gave you, Grimmjow?" she said, in the patient tone of a mother correcting an unruly child.
"Fuck him!" Grimmjow paused, appearing to think twice about his words. "I mean… I didn't mean it like…"
"What was his order?" she demanded again.
"That I…" Grimmjow grumbled angrily, shaking his head. "Come on! She's tough as old leather, the fuck am I supposed to do?"
"His order," said the espada, "was that under no circumstances are you allowed to use resurreccion. That is not to be revealed to our foes."
Erza blinked, finally recognizing the voice. "Neliel?" she said.
Neliel turned to Erza and nodded. "I'm different now. But, so are you, I think."
"R-right," Erza murmured, old memories surfacing.
"I'm sorry, but I can't stay and talk," Neliel said cordially. "I am here for Grimmjow."
"Gimme a fuckin' break!" the arrancar in question said with a snort.
"No," Neliel said simply.
"But-"
"You have failed," Neliel said, her tone carrying a quiet authority, and it was strange to see the brash, cocky espada fail to talk back. "Your fracciones are all dead, save one, without even having taken a single life in return. You have failed to defeat your opponent and disobeyed a direct order from our lord. We are returning to Las Noches right now. There will be no objections."
Grimmjow grit his teeth and balled his fists, and it very much looked like he wanted to refuse- but in the end, after a long, frustrated grunt, he shrugged.
"Fucking fine," he spat. "Have it your way, Neliel. Whatever."
Neliel nodded. "Good." She turned to Erza. "I'd rather there not be any further hostilities. If you insisted, we'd have to fight, and that would be a shame, because in your current state I'd end up killing you."
Erza took a deep breath, and felt the aches and burns of her fight, the exhaustion and the drainage. She knew another fight, just for the hell of it, was the last thing she wanted.
"It won't be necessary," she said. She carefully wiped her blade clean of blood, then sheathed it. "If you don't want to fight, I won't force the issue."
A small smile crossed Neliel's face. "I'm glad. Before too long, we'll have to meet on the battlefield. I do not look forward to it. But, until then, be well. Okay?"
"Thanks," Erza said, nodding back. She could sense other members of her team on the approach.
Behind Neliel, a portal opened, reality ripping open at the command of an arrancar. A lithe, youthful man with dark hair stepped out and bowed curtly to Neliel.
"Thank you, Valiente," she said. "It really wasn't necessary. You've been a great help already."
"It was no trouble at all, Lady Oderschvank," said the arrancar.
"Come, Grimmjow," said Neliel, and motioned toward the portal. "Our lord is waiting for us."
Grimmjow shot Erza a long look, and ran his hand along the wound on his chest.
"This ain't over, captain," he said, a malicious intensity in his voice. "Just you wait. I know your face and I know your spirit. Next time we meet, I'll rip your fucking guts out."
"You'll have to try harder," said Erza, getting the last word as Grimmjow stepped through the portal, followed by Neliel.
The last arrancar, Valiente, lingered for a moment, giving her an odd look. She couldn't see his face very well; the sun had set and he was a ways off, but he felt… familiar.
Whatever it was, she couldn't know; after giving her a strange look, he turned around and followed his superiors, the portal closing behind him. As it closed, Erza let herself keel over, propped up only on her blade. She was in a bad way- but she was alive, and so were her friends. It was as good a start as she could have asked for.
Well now, that was really something wasn't it? I do hope all the fights lived up to your expectations, or even better, exceeded them.
As you've seen before, and seen now, Momo is NOT someone to mess with. Slowly yet surly she's perfecting her craft. Given time, she'll become a truly powerful soul reaper.
I'm really proud how the Edrad fight turned out. I liked it a lot in cannon, and I wanted to make sure that he still came out looking like a powerful enemy. I think we did that well, as well as giving three characters (Nozomi, Isane and Nemu) a good time to shine as opposed to cannon. However, Edrad is still alive! I wont say why we did this just yet, but it was done for a reason. (Fun fact. In the original draft, it was Ylfordt who lived and Edrad who died. )
Also, Erza vs Grimjow, while not as built up and dragged out as the Kenpachi battle, I'm really happy with it. Erza is no slouch even without her shikai, resorting any and all skills she had to survive. From superior swordsmanship to kido, and even brief hand to hand combat, Erza managed to hold her own against an enemy she would have normally needed shikai to fight against. However, Grimmjow is no slouch, and if the fight had continued any further, she likely would have lost.
But anyways, I'm looking forward to hearing what you all have to say about this chapter. I'm really looking forward to it.