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)

66. Calm After The First Storm

I'm very pleased that you all took so well to the last chapter. This one is less action packed but important to the story regardless. I do hope you all enjoy it. Please tell us what you thought in a review.

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.

---

The screen flickered to life, and in anticipation Soifon fell to one knee, a balled fist on the floor supporting her bow, the other tucked behind her back. Commander Scarlet and Captain Kuchiki were both indisposed; the commander's injuries had been undone by the strange ability of that human girl, but she hadn't seemed eager to report to the Gotei when the morning had come. Kuchiki, for his part, was still in recovery, as the girl's healing had run out. Apparently, it took quite a toll in terms of energy.

The commander had even seemed out of sorts, distracted in a way Soifon resented, as if shaken by the previous night's events. Granted, she'd had to face the full might of a so-called espada, but handling the worst the world had to throw at them was the job of a captain, and an elected commander, Soifon thought, should be able to keep one's composure at all times. Whatever malaise plagued Commander Scarlet had better pass soon, or Soifon would have to report this, too, to the captain-commander.

"Captain Soifon."

The reassuring baritone of Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryuusai rumbled through the room, mildly distorted by the screen's audio system.

"Ready and willing, captain-commander," Soifon said, keeping her eyes on the floor. Submitting to an authority while speaking with confidence: this was a zone she was not only comfortable with, but enjoyed.

"Report."

"I am pleased to report that last night's incursion resulted in a total victory," Soifon said, raising her head at last, confident she had paid her dues enough, "as I am sure my intelligence team already relayed-"

She blinked. The screen had gone black, only a small flicker of grey hinting that it was even connected.

"Terribly sorry about that," Urahara Kisuke said. He hastily ran to fix a cord of some kind, changing one plug for another. "You know how it is with second-rate equipment; there are a few bugs here and there… I swear, I only just serviced these yesterday."

He worked diligently and efficiently, but the cheer in his tone made Soifon suspect this was not accidental.

"Just a second…" he muttered. "Really, I'm awfully sorry. I'd hate to interrupt your grovelling. Which you're very good at, by the way."

The sincerity of his voice as he complimented her sealed it. Soifon spared him only a glance of pure loathing, determined not to rise to his bait.

"See it fixed, you dullard," she said, annoyance threatening to pierce her carefully maintained self-discipline.

"Just… okay, there we go."

"Captain Soifon?"

The captain-commander came back into view, and Soifon hastily lowered her head again.

"Report, child," Yamamoto demanded, and the hint of impatience in his tone made Soifon realize he had to have missed what she'd said.

"Er, as I said- I mean," she said, clearing her throat, "complete victory, captain-commander!"

Her voice lacked the confidence it had had a minute earlier, sounding more like a young woman's stutter than the voice of a confident commander, and Soifon made a mental note to get Urahara Kisuke back somehow.

"As I am sure you have been made aware by my operatives," she continued, her voice steadying itself with the routine of military report kicking in, "we were assaulted yesterday evening by six arrancar of considerable power, far greater than the last incursion. They were led by the seventh espada, one Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

"Espada," said Yamamoto thoughtfully. "To think, that old order has risen again…"

"Captain-commander?" Soifon said curiously.

"An old piece of arrancar hierarchy," Yamamoto said dismissively, "riddled with superstition and brutality. It seems Aizen has appropriated it. It is of no consequence- continue your report."

"Yes, captain-commander!" Soifon said firmly. "We engaged the espada and its servants one by one, Commander Scarlet squaring off with their leader. Although many of our number came close to death, ultimately they failed to kill any of us. Four were undoubtedly slain, while the espada and one of his servants managed to escape. According to Commander Scarlet, the espada was about to unleash its full power before a higher-ranked espada appeared and stopped him. Choosing to focus on the mission of protecting this town, she let him go without further hostility."

This, Soifon approved of, in no small part because she had done the exact same thing.

"This higher-ranked espada?"

"No useful data, captain-commander," Soifon said ruefully. "We know her name is Neliel Tu Oderschvank, an old acquaintance of Commander Scarlet, and we know that she is tremendously powerful, but that is all."

Yamamoto nodded. "Tell me, Soifon, what do you make of this?"

"Me, commander?" Soifon said, a little surprised.

"You are the head of the Stealth Force, our primary intelligence unit."

That was, of course, self-explanatory, and Soifon chastised herself for not realizing it.

"I believe Aizen is gathering intelligence, lord," she said, after a slight hesitation.

"Such wanton aggression just for intelligence?"

"Aizen Sousuke was able to hide his true intentions for over a hundred years, while successfully putting on a persona of a kind and gentle leader. I do not believe a man capable of such self-control or deliberation would ever make a move rashly and without real purpose," Soifon said, now thoughtful herself. "No, this has to be something else. We've already seen his weakest arrancar in action, and they underperformed pitifully. So, Aizen sends an espada, but not a very strong one, to test us. He dedicates resources of value, yet not of such value that they cannot be replaced, to test not only our capacities and strengths, but those of his subordinates as well. His arrancar are bound to be new, if they were created with this hougyoku device, untested and unused to their new bodies. They would need the experience."

"At the cost of powerful soldiers?"

"I believe so, lord," Soifon said with a nod.

"He already knows our strengths inside and out from over a century of malicious scheming."

"That he does, but not that of his own forces. He has the calculating mind of a scientist, it would seem. Such a test would be reasonable, then."

"Do you believe it will happen again?"

"I have no doubt of it, lord," Soifon said firmly. "A single experiment will not yield enough information; this much I know of science. We will likely see more. He will poke and prod, perhaps hoping to kill some of us in the process, but ultimately learning the most about his own assets. We will learn in turn, but he will expect that. For this reason, I doubt we will see him deploy his most powerful servants until the final confrontation."

She fell quiet, out of things to say, and for a few seconds the captain-commander was unresponsive.

"I agree with your analysis, captain," he said at last, his voice slow and sagely. "It seems you were a good fit for this report. Why, I ask, is it you here and not the commander of this expedition, herself?"

"She is indisposed, captain-commander," Soifon said, debating inwardly whether or not she should voice her criticisms. Erza Scarlet was her superior in this mission, but as captains, they were hardly peers; Soifon was her senior by over a hundred years, and far more skilled in her work, with far greater responsibilities. She had no reason to hold back, no reason to think Scarlet knew better than her.

But at the same time, she strongly disliked the notion of going behind a superior's back without good cause. Obedience of authority had been beaten into her, literally and figuratively, since she was a toddler. It left tracks that were difficult to change.

"She is recovering from the suites of last night's battle," Soifon continued as she thought. "She was severely injured combating the espada, and likewise Captain Kuchiki. She is recovering well, but I offered to ease her burden by reporting in her stead."

Nothing she had said was untrue or even deceptive, but Soifon knew she was holding back. Was she too soft- or too strict, thinking like this in the first place?

"Very well," said Yamamoto, apparently satisfied by her explanation.

"I will request she brief you in detail later, captain-commander."

"See that you do," said Yamamoto. "Was there anything else of vital import?"

"Nothing vital, lord," said Soifon. "I will send a detailed report by tonight."

"Very good," said Yamamoto. "Then, I shall continue my duties of the day."

Soifon remained bowed, waiting for him to leave.

"Oh, and Captain Soifon?"

"Yes, lord?"

"Send my best regards. Your team has successfully defended a serious incursion without any casualties. Let them know I commend their actions, yours included."

"Yes, captain-commander!" Soifon said firmly, her chest swelling with a little pride.

"Dismissed," said the commander, and the screen went quiet.

"It went really well, huh?"

Soifon's first instinct was to snap, that this was Urahara again mocking her- but a microsecond later, she recognised the voice. Confident, cheeky, and altogether loveable, it was Shihoin Yoruichi.

"M-milady," Soifon stuttered, as Yoruichi stepped out.

"Relax, will you?" Yoruichi said, smiling devilishly. "I came here this morning. I couldn't let you do all the heavy lifting on your own, could I?"

"I- yes," Soifon stuttered, sounding very much like an uncertain young woman, and not much at all like a confident commander.

"Come on. Let's go tell the others how good they've been, eh?"

Soifon just nodded, and felt a little blissful as she followed Yoruichi out.

---

Erza looked up from her toast, looking across the kitchen table to her daughter, who was cheerily chewing down an unusually ordinary bowl of porridge, spiced with salamy. Ordinary, for Orihime, was a highly relative term. It was a strange thing, to be sitting here, still and safe, eating breakfast as if she hadn't nearly been killed last night, as if they were just a normal family. It was a kind of weird sensation that struck her sometimes, when she had lived through a serious ordeal. In some odd way, it didn't feel right to move on from such danger easily.

She shook her head, shaking her strange ennui away. She should feel glad, alive, exhilarated that she wasn't dead. All the same, the weight of responsibility troubled her, held her down. They had been lucky- very lucky- that nobody had died. Orihime had fixed most of their injuries, although the poor girl had run out of stamina after a while, leaving Isane to finish their work. Against the odds, they had prevailed. But, they could easily have failed, and fatalities under her command would ultimately be her responsibility. It would cost her nothing as a captain unless the mission was a failure, but it would weigh on her heart forever if it had happened. The thought of dear friends like Momo or Rangiku dead, or Nemu and Isane slain just as they had begun to approach a normal life… it was almost too much to bear, in the quietness of her mind. Even somebody like Soifon or Byakuya, whom she was not overly fond of and who were far more competent than any of her other teammates, would weigh on her all the same.

On top of that, Tetsu no Tama still refused to speak with her, stubborn as a mule. She wondered about the previous night- even facing death, he had remained quiet. His mind was singular like that, hard and unbending in a way few human beings could match. Principle meant everything to him.

That had only been the seventh espada, and she hadn't been winning that fight. If he had released his true power, she was sure she would have died, short of help from the other captains on duty. This could not go on.

She shook her head again, trying to dispel her worries.

"Are you okay, Erza?" Orihime said with concern. "You look a bit down."

"It's nothing," Erza said, regretting the lie as soon as she said it. "I mean, there is… something, I guess."

"What is it?"

"Last night, I told you to stay home," Erza said strictly, keen to steer the conversation in any direction except the one she had been thinking of. "In fact, I was very clear that you should stay back no matter what. I told you, as your mother and as a captain, that this was too dangerous for you. You still disobeyed."

Her voice sharpened as she spoke, and Erza realized with a bit of shame that she had raised her voice to Orihime. Part of her wanted to apologize, but she didn't want to back down, either. It was no lie; it might not have been what had originally bothered her, but it was a concern. Still, if she made her daughter cry, she would curse herself…

Orihime did not cry, though. She looked Erza in the eyes, and with a firm expression and an even firmer voice, she said, "Yes, you did say that. And I did disobey."

"Well," Erza said irritably, not sure how to deal with a defiant teenager, "that… that is not acceptable in this house, young lady."

It was a tame response if there ever was one; Erza hadn't thought any further than scolding her, much less planned for how to discipline her.

"I found Momo," Orihime said. "She was dying. Her throat had been ripped open. It was horrible. But I took a deep breath and I got to work. It took a lot out of me, but I put her back together. She's alive, because of me. I made a difference."

Erza took in a sharp breath. For a second, she had imagined Momo, dead, broken, and bloodied on the ground, and it had shaken her to the core. Somehow, that thought felt direr to her than any other, worse than the fear she'd had for any of her friends. Momo hadn't even told her that, and she wondered why.

"I know you said not to," continued Orihime, "but I knew I could help. I know that you'd always do the right thing, even if it was hard. Even if it was dangerous. I'm your daughter, Erza. I'm the daughter of a woman who'd rather die than let her friends fall. I didn't obey, I didn't stay back and hide, because that's not what you would do. Is it?"

"I-I mean," Erza stuttered, her mind still reeling from the thought of a dying Momo.

"I don't know what Fairy Tail was like," said Orihime, "but I think it was a place where people did that sort of thing for each other. If you want to punish me for disobeying, that's fine, but I know I helped people. I know I did the right thing."

"Well… I guess…" Erza said, desperately trying to think of the right thing to say. As a parent, she imagined, she shouldn't encourage defiance; Orihime certainly didn't have the same experience or strength that she did. But at the same time… Momo.

"They're coming to our home," Orihime said stubbornly, and Erza felt like she heard herself speak, "to our town. People might die. I know I'm still not a grown-up, but I might not have a choice. I have to try to help if people need me. Wouldn't you?"

Erza paused for a long while, taking a deep couple of breaths. "Of course I would," she said at last. "I'd always help. No matter what."

She sighed, and shook her head again. She couldn't quite believe what she was about to say.

"It's my job to protect you," she continued. "Until you can take care of yourself, that's what a mother does. That's why I told you to stay at home."

"But you wouldn't have."

"No," Erza conceded, "I wouldn't have. But there's a difference. I… I can handle these things. I'm older and I know how to deal with this. You're still young, and you have a lot left to learn."

"I do."

"Well, first of all… thank you," Erza muttered quietly. "I had no idea about Momo. Secondly…" She groaned. "Yes, it is your home, too. And I can't always protect you. And yes, you did make a difference. I just… it terrifies me to think of you caught up in this."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Erza said. "No, you did do the right thing. I can't… I can't argue against that without being a hypocrite. You always try to help. But that doesn't mean you can rush in blindly!" she added quickly, as she saw Orihime brighten up.

"If you want to be a part of this so badly, then you have to be careful. You can't get caught up in something beyond your abilities. You only have one life to use, and I don't want you in the afterlife prematurely."

"I'd find my way in and become a shinigami in no time," Orihime said fiercely, a smile returning to her face as she began what was no doubt a vivid imaginary scenario of herself as a shinigami cyborg.

"…All the same," Erza said, a bit uncomfortable with the notion, "I'm not going to punish you for saving lives, but please be careful, okay? Don't go looking for trouble- let it find you first. Okay?"

"Oh, sure," Orihime said chipperly. "I'm not some big warrior guy like Ichigo, or anything. Don't worry about that."

Erza nodded. "Well… good then."

"I gotta go to school," Orihime said. "Don't get caught up in something crazy without me, okay?"

The last line was only halfway a joke, and Erza knew that all too well. Children… how long ago had it been since she had taken in a tiny, weeping girl, afraid of her own shadow? Not ten years ago, but it felt like an eternity.

---

How he had made it through the school day, Ichigo wasn't sure. It was a blur to him; he could barely even remember basic things like going to lunch, or the class being dismissed. He knew he had gone there, but he couldn't for the life of him remember a single thing.

He had been beaten up pretty badly last night, and although Orihime had mended his bones, she had not been able to change his mood.

He had felt crushed. The espada had wrecked him utterly. Not long ago, he had fought and beaten a captain, one of the Gotei's greatest elite. Now his mind was wracked with the threat of becoming a monster, and the solution had left him too weak to even fight back. But, he wasn't kidding himself- a brutal, thuggish bastard like that espada wasn't going to be doable even under normal circumstances. Apparently, even Erza had been unable to subdue him. What kind of monster had Aizen made?

The very thought of it, knowing he'd lost so much of his ability so quickly, that he was all but helpless…

Logically, he knew it didn't make sense. He was a one-in-a-generation talent, explosively powerful but inexperienced. He had gained power quickly, power that many shinigami spent a lifetime chasing. That he'd run into an obstacle along the way shouldn't feel this bad.

But perhaps because he was so extraordinary, so used to this power, it hurt even more. Inside him was not just the anxiety of losing his humanity, but the hurt pride of a young man who had, until recently, been quite the hero. Last night, his heroism had accounted for nothing, and in typical fashion for a young man, he had bottled it up and brooded. But, it was unbearable. The only thing he had thought of all day was the arrogant, overpowering presence of the arrancar, so far beyond his reach… the only thing ever to break up the gloom of defeat was the prospect of doom, of his hollow making itself known again.

Kurosaki Ichigo was not in a good place. But, proud as he was, he wasn't too proud to ask for help, at least not from a source he knew was already engaged in helping him. So, his steps had taken him toward Urahara's shop once the school day was over. He couldn't get there quickly enough; he was driving himself mad with speculation. Was he destined for failure? For monstrosity? Did he even have a future, much less a future as a defender of the town? These questions burned at his mind mercilessly, until the familiar contour of the shop came into view.

He was unsurprised to see Tessai open the door before he could even knock at it, the burly man greeting him courteously before gesturing toward the back of the building, where the proprietor would be.

"Hey, bucket hat," he said, all but barging into the man's room. It was as messy and unkempt as ever, and Urahara spun around in his chair, lifting his gaze from a set of numbers playing across a screen, their purpose entirely alien to Ichigo.

"Mr. Kurosaki," said Urahara politely, "I hadn't expected you so soon."

"Tell me you've got something for me," Ichigo said abruptly. "I can't… I can't deal with this. Either I live with these nightmares, with this hollow trying to eat my soul from the inside, or I walk around weak and useless. You said it yourself, that's not a long-term solution. So please, tell me you made some progress."

"As it happens," said Urahara, smoothly standing up, "this matter is quite beyond my abilities."

Anger mixed with horror welled up inside Ichigo. "You said you'd fix this!" he snapped. "You said that you'd-"

"Beyond my abilities, Mr. Kurosaki, at least at present. However, as it happens, I've been consulting some… specialists."

"Well… they better be really fucking special!" Ichigo said, still not having lost his choler. "What are they, some sort of shady assholes like you who just so happen to know how to wrangle a hollow under control?"

"That, young man," said Urahara with a grin, "is exactly what they are."

"Well…" Ichigo said, pausing; he hadn't expected such a forthright answer. "…Take me to them already, why don't you?"

"They're a mite shy," explained Urahara. "I've been working on securing their help, but they're apprehensive- and believe me when I say they have good reason to be."

Ichigo looked him in the eye, and said soberly, "I can't keep going like this, man. I feel like I'll go crazy. Hell, I think I already am."

Slowly, Urahara nodded. "I'll take you to them."

"…Just like that?" said Ichigo incredulously. "No joking around, no making me wait?"

"Given recent developments, we may not have any more time to waste. You're much like your aunt, do you know that? So quick to judge based on a quip or two. I take your condition very seriously, because it's going to be everyone's problem if it isn't solved. I have time for this, and you have no desire to wait. So, let's go."

"…Well, okay then!" said Ichigo, feeling a great sense of relief. "Um, where to?"

"It's a bit of a walk," said Urahara, grabbing his cane from its resting place, "a few kilometres toward the outskirts of town."

Ichigo followed the shopkeeper in silence. He wondered why they'd bother to walk at a normal, if relatively quick, pace. He wondered just how long this would take. He wondered just what these specialists would do, what they would say. With more than a little trepidation, he wondered if they'd reject him.

After what felt like an eternity- but was more like an hour or so- Urahara stopped. They had walked into a shoddier part of town, used mainly for storage of company goods or industrial utilities, filled with warehouses. It was as good a place as any to not be found, Ichigo figured.

"Well, where are they?" he asked. "Actually, who are they?"

"You deserve to know, I suppose," said Urahara sombrely, and gestured with a thumb toward a storehouse. "They're in there. But, you're not going to go in there, not right away. These people like their privacy, and if I bring in a stranger without warning, they might not trust me."

"Who are they?" Ichigo insisted.

"The visored," Urahara said mysteriously, a glimmer in his eye.

"That tells me jack," Ichigo said flatly.

"They're akin to you," Urahara said, "people with spiritual power who, through strange circumstances, came to possess the power of a hollow. You are unique in your conception, Mr. Kurosaki, but not in your condition."

Ichigo took a deep breath. People had suffered what he'd suffered, learned to master it? The fact that it could be done at all gave him hope of a kind he badly needed.

"…Why are they called the visored?" Ichigo said, and felt stupid for asking it. Out of all the things he could have asked about, the nature of their name was surely the least interesting.

"You'll see," Urahara said, no less cryptic this time.

"Is that all I get, then?"

"It is," Urahara said firmly. "I've said enough already, and many of them would argue it's too much. Anything else, you'll have to learn from them directly."

"If they'll have me."

"Yes."

"…They will, right?" Ichigo said nervously.

"So I hope."

"Why did you bring me, if you aren't sure they'll even hear me out?"

"Oh, I think a suffering, uncertain young man is rather a stronger incentive than my word alone is. Think of yourself as a bright-eyed, adorable puppy with a broken paw."

"So I'm emotional blackmail material. Great."

"Do you care, if it means fixing what ails you?"

"…No," Ichigo said, shuddering at the memory of the hollow-induced nightmares. "No, I don't. Go on, go… do your thing, whatever. I'll wait if it takes all day."

"I'll hold you to that, Mr. Kurosaki," Urahara said politely. "As it happens, some of them can be rather stubborn."

With that, he turned around and leisurely walked toward the warehouse. Ichigo watched him go, and as an anonymous-looking door slammed shut behind him, Ichigo swallowed. He very badly hoped this would work out.

---

Whilst Ichigo awaited his fate with great uncertainty, elsewhere in town another young man sat in a bedroom. Although not quite so filled with a justified sense of anxiety, Ishida Uryu was nonetheless experiencing a malaise rather similar to that of his cousin.

Ever since his youth, ever since his grandfather had died and he had been, for all he knew, the last quincy on earth, he had watched over this town. He had practiced furiously, and since he was twelve years old, he had hunted real hollows with zealous determination, utterly dead set on keeping Karakura's residents safe from the kind of fate that had befallen his late grandfather. He had for long viewed himself as a knight in shining armour, a watcher in the dark, a Lancelot who would guard and protect without thanks. It had been a boy's fantasies, and, looking back, made no better because they had by and large been true. He had been a boy with great power, doing real work, real good, and it had given him some delusions of grandeur.

Yes, he had known of the shinigami. Yes, he had known he was not the only powerful individual. But up till a few months ago, he had still thought of himself as a chevalier, a noble knight, a protector…

Then he had taken his first true eye-opening journey into the heart of the Gotei, and he had seen just how naïve he had been. He had been able to reconcile the difference between himself and the Gotei's elite. After all, in his short life so far, he had already become more powerful than all but their most elite fighters. It had done little to affect his ego, but perhaps it should have done.

Then, last night, he had stood face-to-face with a new breed of hollow, the truest and greatest kind of threat bound for their town- his town- and the people inside it. The people he had sworn in his heart to protect.

He had been brushed aside like he was nothing. He had been ignored, the espada hardly even bothering to attack. He had been utterly defeated by an absolutely minimal effort.

The taste the thought left in Uryu's mouth could be called bitter, but that would be the understatement of the year. It burned him with a white-hot flame of self-loathing, frustration, anger: loathing at his own weakness, frustration with his inability to even put up a real fight, anger that he knew no way to match such overwhelming force.

Logically, he reasoned that he should be glad for this wake-up call. He could no longer afford to think of himself as a knight in shining armour, a peer to the warrior elites that would clash here in the near future. If he had kept thinking that way, he would eventually have bitten off more than he could chew, and simply died. He should be glad that he had gotten away so easily.

But, it was one think to think rationally, and another to overcome the force of emotion. Uryu was not bad at self-control- it was second nature to any quincy due to the nature of their arts- but he was also a young man, plagued by insecurities and stress.

He had to ask himself some questions, he realised. Would it be possible to continue this way? Could he continue on the path of a quincy? Would his strength be sufficient? Would he have to seek help from the Knights of the Vanden after all?

He could not continue this way; that much was clear. He had to either give up his life as a quincy and resolve not to meddle with matters spiritual again, to do as his father asked- or he had to seek a new source of strength, to learn what he had not already learned, to submit to the tutelage of people he neither knew nor trusted.

The former felt unthinkable. The latter filled him with great apprehension.

He was a quincy. That wasn't just an art. It wasn't just a skill set. It was who he was . He had no idea who Ishida Uryu would be without his bow, and he had no desire to find out, either.

It could be done, of course. He could shelve all of his skills and seek out new ventures. He could be… normal. A person the same as anybody. An intelligent, capable young man with excellent grades, who had the potential to seek any career he so chose. By human standards, that was no small amount of potential. But, that would mean he could never again see himself as a knightly figure, could never act selflessly or chivalrously in the defence of others. He would have to become somebody else entirely. The very idea disgusted him.

On the other hand, the Wandenritter were entirely unknown to him, and Uryu was wary of strangers such as they. The talk he'd had with his father had shaken him, the more he thought about it. The quincies, vile villains, racist supremacists with no regard for human life… it was the exact opposite of the ideals he had aspired to. The very idea that all he stood for would have made him an outcast among his own family…

His father was embittered, to be sure, hardly an objective viewer, but Uryu believed him all the same. Had he exaggerated? Quite possibly, but he had spoken with a conviction and a passion Uryu had never seen his normally so stoic father express before. To lie in such a manner would defy everything Uryu knew about his father. He did not love the man in any great sense, but his father was predictable, consistent, and if the man spoke on something, it was usually blunt, to the point, and quite true.

But, he couldn't possibly be sure this was what all quincies were like, could he? The one he had met seemed radically different from everything he'd come to expect, a far cry from an arrogant supremacist.

But, at the same time, if they sought to recruit him, wouldn't they try to present their most attractive face first? Honesty was not something he could count on, not with strangers such as these.

Uryu shook his head irritably, frustrated at his inability to decide.

He couldn't give up who he was. The very thought of people falling prey to hollows, slaughtered like chattel because nobody had been there to save them…

He couldn't save everyone. That was impossible.

He could save some people, and the ones he did save would live on. Some good was better than no good at all.

Uryu was not a very passionate person, but the previous night's confrontation had forced him to confront a few realities. Thinking here, by his lonesome, he'd come to some realizations.

He loved this town. He loved its people. But he was not selfless; he also loved being a hero, seeing himself as a protector. He did it both because it was good, and because it made him feel good. It was not complete altruism. But why did that matter, in the end, if the result was people kept safe from a grisly fate?

It didn't matter why. The end result did.

He loved this town, and he loved himself, too. He could not give up being a quincy. He also couldn't hope to compete with the monstrosities coming to lay waste to his home. That left only one conclusion. If he wanted to continue, the only rational course was to take the risk, and seek the counsel of the strange European knights. Contemplatively, he held up his quincy cross, staring at it.

Fire an arrow at midnight.That was how they would know. Impulsively, Uryu felt like rushing up to the roof this instant, to fire immediately and set down this path before he could regret it. But, self-control was key; do not let one's passions rule oneself. It was settled. At midnight, he would send the message. Whatever the case, he would have to seek the knowledge of these foreigners. If that meant being indoctrinated into a cult…

Well, if the town remained protected, it was a worthy cost, was it not?

---

Grimmjow was in a mood most foul. He stood facing Aizen Sousuke, overlord of Hueco Mundo and master of Las Noches. Aizen sat upon a throne, a long staricase elevating it twice the height of a man above the palace floor. The room where Aizen held court, once the property of Barragan Luisenbarn, was as grand and pompous as one might have expected of a king as arrogant as Aizen; it mirrored the supreme egotism of its current ruler and every ruler who had come before him, ancient and dignified. Great columns held the roof aloft, and everything was a pristine white, like marble.

Around the throne in a half-circle stood the espada, nearly all of them assembled. Some looked at Grimmjow with quiet indifference, like Ulquiorra or Halibel, whereas others could barely contain their glee, like Nnoitor Gilga. The latter was grinning, no doubt anticipating quite a show. Grimmjow felt unconcerned. So what? He'd been a bit naughty. What of it? Letting loose was his job.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," said Aizen smoothly, his voice calm and controlled, "I have been told disappointing things about you. You have been brought here before me to speak in your defense. Let it be known amongst my servants that I will not treat any of you unfairly."

Grimmjow shrugged, staring them all down defiantly. He was used to going against the odds, going against the stream; adversity was a hollow's life, and only somebody like a Vasto Lorde could allow themselves the luxury of anything less. By Aizen's side stood his dark-skinned lieutenant, blind as a bat, his eyes still fixed at Grimmjow. Aside from Nnoitora, Grimmjow was sure nobody else in the room loathed him more.

"Upon your suggestion, you and your group were sent to Karakura Town to attack whatever shinigami presence there was," continued Aizen, "yet here you are, returning to me in complete failure."

"Like fuck I failed," Grimmjow snarled. "I was winning until that dumb bitch Neliel pulled me out!"

He pointed angrily at the espada in question, who stood next to Halibel, quite near the foot of the throne. The higher in rank, it seemed, the closer one was allowed to Aizen's majesty.

"Neliel acted on my orders," said Aizen, "and fully to my satisfaction, I might add. Unlike you."

"Sure, my boys went and got themselves killed," Grimmjow said with a shrug, "dumbasses. But how the fuck was they to know there was a huge force of captains out? Who'd have guessed it? I don't really care, me, but since we're bein' all fair and shit, don't that come into account? That there was shinigami elites all over the place?"

"To be honest, it is not your failure that concerns me," Aizen said dismissively. "Casualties happen. Such is the nature of war. It is as you say- the Gotei has committed more forces than expected to the town. Your group fought hard, but were overcome."

"Fuggin' milksop weaklings," Nnoitora sneered, chuckling under his big, white teeth. A sharp glance from Ulquiorra quickly silenced him, and Grimmjow glared at him.

"Then what?" Grimmjow demanded, in no mood to play games. Overlord though he was, he wasn't about to kowtow to this arrogant piece of shit.

"I believe you were given specific instructions before leaving," said Aizen. "In fact, I believe Neliel reminded you just as you left. Surely you have not forgotten?"

"…The resurreccion," Grimmjow muttered. "Whatever. So I went a bit crazy. It's what I do. You didn't make me the way I am just so I could push pencils like that fuckhead Szayel. I'm meant to bust heads. That captain was a tough nut, and I decided to go all out. So what if they see it? Ain't nothing complicated about what I can do."

"I gave you an order."

Aizen's voice was still calm, controlled and smooth, but there was a dangerous undertone in it- a tone Grimmjow failed to notice.

"Yeah, well… gee, sorry, Mr. Lord Aizen, sir," he said, the apology sounding fake as could be, barely any effort put into it. "My mistake. Won't happen again."

"Is that all you have to say in your defence?"

"Yeah. I mean… who cares?"

Aizen nodded. "So be it. Neliel, step forward, if you please."

"Yes, lord," said the espada. She stepped forward, standing in front of the throne, facing Grimmjow. He despised her meekness, her submissiveness, her very voice- weakness should never be shown in any form, and nothing about her reflected the raw power that justified her rank. Yet all the same, she was the quinto, two ranks above him.

"Neliel Tu Oderschvank," said Aizen, "I tasked you with supervising Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. You have seen him here in Las Noches, and you observed his battle. In full, what is your opinion of him?"

"Lord," said Neliel, her light voice ringing out across the courtroom with clarity, "I have seen him. It is clear to me that Grimmjow has incredible potential. He is a viciously experienced, determined fighter, and from that perspective a worthy addition to your force."

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected that kind of praise.

"I saw him go from self-assured to serious, and the difference between cock-sure self-confidence and true fighting was incredible. With this new body of his, and with time spent training, he could go very far as a soldier of yours. He has potential, lord."

"Is that all?" Aizen asked.

"No, lord," Neliel said, shaking her head. "I fully stand by what I said about potential, but he will never live up to it, never reach it. He is vain, prideful, egotistical and self-centred. He is entrenched in a mindset belonging to the lawless desert wastes, and believes only in rule of strength. He dislikes the idea of training to achieve new heights. You have given us new forms, lord, but the most important thing you've given us is new purpose- and the potential to live up to it. He has the shape of a man, but he is a base and brute hollow. I have no ill will toward him- rather, I pity him. He is an animal caged by its own self. He cares only about himself, and is incapable of doing better. He is not fit to climb any further than where he is now until he has moved past this. Keep him as a brute enforcer, lord, but I doubt if he will have any more restraint than he showed earlier."

"The fuck you saying, bitch?" Grimmjow snarled, wrath swelling in his chest. "Don't you fuckin' look down on me-"

"Be silent," Aizen said dismissively, and Grimmjow felt the weight of his reiatsu rising, and cut himself short.

There was a pause, and Grimmjow grit his teeth.

"We done yet?" he snarled. He felt the urge to smash something into pieces, preferably those blasted columns holding this entire damned room up. Destroying this monument to arrogance, to civility, to order- all things anathema to being what a hollow was, what a hollow should be- was a thought pleasing beyond imagination.

He only hoped this would be it. He saw what Aizen's game was. Put together his espada, shame him for his failure, humiliate him, really rub it all in his face. You're a failure. You're worthless. You're nothing. He hadn't expected Neliel to scorn him like that; this little deceitful act was actually the first thing she'd done that he had any respect for.

"We are done when I say the word," said Aizen. He made the smallest of nods at his lieutenat.

Tousen was some five yards away, but he moved like the wind. Grimmjow sensed the attack coming, reached for his blade, but his hand hadn't even reached the sheath before Tousen hit. In one smooth, fluid motion, he severed Grimmjow's left arm, the limb dropping to the floor in a pool of blood. Even his hierro did nothing to slow it down; Tousen, unlike most shinigami, had experience dealing with the physique of an arrancar. Grimmjow let out a scream of pain, clutching the stump of his bloodied arm.

Not finished, Tousen pointed a hand at the severed limb.

"Hadou fifty-four: Haien!" he cried, and a flash of purple struck the limb, exploding into an intensely burning fire. Within seconds the flames had extinguished, having reduced the limb to ash.

"You son of a bitch!" Grimmjow snarled, reaching for his blade, hellbent on revenge.

"Grimmjow," Aizen's voice cut in, a bit more sharply than before, "know that I am showing you mercy. I will not be so kind if you raise a hand to Kaname."

Grimmjow growled, a deep, reverberating sound from his gut, grit his teeth, and sheathed his halfway drawn blade.

"…Fine. Whatever. Who cares," he said, doing his best to sound casual, at ease, despite the searing pain in his arm.

"Your failure is not what concerns me," Aizen repeated, "but your disobedience is."

He turned his eyes to the rest of his espada.

"Know, my servants, that I am not like your previous kings. I show mercy. I listen. I will spare Grimmjow's life, because the cycle of savagery you are used to is untenable in the world I will build for us all. I will not tolerate insubordination or disobedience- know this, but know also that I will treat you harshly but fairly."

Once more, he turned his eyes to Grimmjow.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, my espada," he said, "you disobeyed a direct order in the field. As punishment, you are stripped of your rank. You remain one of my arrancar, but you will never again serve as one of my elites. Now we are done, arrancar."

Grimmjow resisted the urge to scream. Having made it, having become espada, that was one of his greatest dreams come true. He'd been recognized for his power, made something real, only to have it all robbed from him so soon. It couldn't be. It was like a nightmare. He'd rather be dead!

But, somehow, he controlled himself.

"Fine," he said, managing a shrug, feeling a horrible, sinking feeling in his gut. "I guess I'm dismissed, then, right?"

"Dismissed," Aizen agreed.

Grimmjow turned his back and walked out, and as he did, Nnoitora finally broke into a long, ugly laugh. Grimmjow's horror became replaced with an enormous anger. He was going to make him pay for this. All of them.

So, the arrancar Grimmjow walked out, leaving a trail of blood, and all present saw what happened to those who dared defy Aizen Sousuke.

---

Erza had, after all was said and done, gone to work despite the worries and weariness piling up inside her head. She was a captain, after all, and if she was not at work, she was not fit to call herself the commander of this mission. Putting on a firm, brave face, she had helped put together a full report of last night's events, taking testimonies from all team members while Soifon eagerly took notes. She had organized a joint scientific analysis to be carried out alongside Urahara Kisuke. The shopkeeper seemed to appreciate having a few extra hands to process the data, and no doubt he appreciated the fact that he now had access to the scientific progress made by the Gotei in his absence, as both Nemu and Nozomi were well acquainted with it. She had directed her subordinates, set up patrol routes; she had done all her duty required without making it too strenuous.

Eventually the work day had ended, and Erza had returned to her apartment, feeling exhausted. With Orihime's healing having restored her, she was well enough in body, but not in spirit. Tetsu no Tama's stubborn absence was demoralizing, as was the thrashing the espada had given her. She had done well, considering how limited she was, but it was not a fight she would have won in the long run. And to think he was only the seventh… to think that ahead of her lay fiercely powerful opponents like Neliel and Halibel; thinking that made Erza's head hurt.

Determined to ease her mind but a little, she made some tea, one of the simplest balms of the soul, a universal to both the Gotei and human life. She went to the living room, and saw Momo sitting there on a couch, staring out into space. Her vice-captain had been a bit distant for most of the day, and Erza had had to remind her to keep focus more than once. Carefully sitting down in a comfortable chair opposite the couch, she took a sip of her tea, leaning back into the couch. She took her time, and after she had finished her cup, she felt somewhat refreshed. She looked at Momo. The girl hadn't even said hello, only giving her a simple nod as she came in. This was unusual; Hinamori Momo was diligent and took her rank- and Erza's- seriously. Something was wrong, and Erza had a suspicion of what.

"Um. Momo?" she said, not sure how to begin.

"Oh. Yes, captain?" Momo said, shooting her a tired smile.

"I, um… are you all right?" Erza said, wishing she knew a better way to phrase it.

"Just fine," Momo said, false cheer in her voice. "Last night was a bit hectic, but you know… you deal with it."

"I spoke to Orihime."

"Oh," said Momo, her voice almost cracking. It was but one word, but it carried more meaning than a full sentence possibly could.

"You didn't tell me what happened," Erza said. "She told me… you almost-"

"I know!" Momo snapped, sounding surprisingly sharp. "I- I'm sorry captain, it's just- that word, I don't-"

"I understand," Erza lied, realizing her vice-captain needed the support. "Everything's fine. I'm not mad or anything."

"R-right."

"It's just that… I'm not just your captain, but your friend. As your friend, I'd really like to know when something bad happens to you."

She struggled with the word, and it was made no easier by Momo's expression. She looked pained, her eyes moving about the room like a scared animal looking for an escape path. Erza took a breath, deciding the bull had to be taken by the horns.

"Momo… is there something you'd like to tell me? Or talk about?"

Momo took a couple of sharp, fast breaths, her lower lip quivering. Tears began to trail down her face, and her shoulders trembled. She buried her face in her arms, sobbing quietly and uncontrollably. Erza quickly put down the cup and rushed over to Momo's side, putting an arm around the smaller woman.

"Are- are you okay?" Erza said, feeling stupid for asking. Obviously, she wasn't, but Erza had to say something, right? That's what one did in these situations. Said words. And such. Damn it!

Momo made it no easier, her shoulders shaking. She leaned into Erza, who uncomfortably put an arm around her. Momo sobbed for a good couple of minutes, Erza awkwardly rubbing her shoulder, hoping that she'd figure out something else, something more to do.

"I-I-I," Momo stuttered at last, after composing herself to the barest of minimums, still trembling. "Erza, I was so af-afraid!"

She sobbed some more, and Erza held her tightly.

"I'm- I'm right here," Erza said. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. Just tell me what's wrong."

Well, almost dying, that ought to be why, Erza figured. But she had to say something.

"It hasn't even been a month," Momo whimpered. "I died, and, and, and it was Aizen who did it, I trusted him-"

She broke down again, wetting Erza's shihakushou with her tears. Erza rubbed her back, putting a hand on Momo's head.

"I died again, Erza," she cried. "I was cut down and alone and I was sure I'd never see you again. I tried my best but it failed and I wasn't good enough-"

"You are good enough," Erza said firmly.

"I was just- I was- I was alone in the dark and it hurt so much," Momo sobbed. "I was going to leave everyone behind, and- and if Orihime hadn't been there…"

She would be dead, Erza thought, the very thought of it feeling like a hammer's blow to the gut. Momo was here, alive and well in her arms, and to think she had come so close to being gone forever…

For a moment, Erza's heart hardened with loathing, with hatred for Aizen and his cronies. He nearly killed her twice. Not by design this time, but no less his responsibility.

Then she remembered this was about Momo, not Aizen, and looked her vice-captain in the eye.

"You're alive," she said firmly. "You're here. You're still breathing."

She put a hand on Momo's chest, and Momo looked a little confused for a second.

"Your heart is still beating. Stop, don't think, and just feel it. Will you do that for me?"

Momo nodded, stifling a sob, and took a deep breath. She held still, one of her hands slipping over Erza's, feeling so small and fragile compared to the captain's. They were still and silent for a while, and Erza felt Momo's heart beating. Momo breathed in long, deep breaths, and felt the same.

"You're alive. That's what matters," Erza said, her voice quiet and sincere. Slowly, Momo nodded.

"I-I- yes, I am," she stuttered. "Gosh…"

"Are you feeling better?" said Erza. Momo was rather red in the face, she noticed. She really cried a lot, Erza thought.

Momo sniffed, and nodded. "Thank you," she said, her voice faint but sincere, spoken with heartfelt gratitude.

"What are friends for?" said Erza.

"I can always count on you, can't I?" Momo said, staring into Erza's eyes. "You're always there for me, no matter what. When something… something like this happens, here you are to pick up the pieces."

"I'll always be here," said Erza firmly, "no matter what."

She knew that couldn't be true, not forever. She was a captain, and a war loomed. Even if they both lived through that, she would likely die in the field one day, finally up against a foe she could not best, and when that day came, she would have no choice; she would leave all her loved ones behind a final time. That was the harsh reality of it.

But, Momo didn't need cold, hard reality right now. She needed reassurance, comfort. She needed to feel safe and supported. Erza hated dishonesty, but with her hand still on her vice-captain's chest, staring into her vulnerable eyes, she realized there was a difference between dishonesty and not being bluntly honest at all times.

"Let's… let's go make some more tea," she said, after a while. They had been silent, just looking at each other, and it had finally gotten awkward.

"S-sure," Momo said with a nod. They got up, almost colliding with each other, Momo falling back onto the couch. Erza chuckled, and extended her hand. Momo took it, smiling back, and the awkwardness faded away.

---

After a stressful day at work, Masaki had finally come home. After meticulously taking off her shoes and coat, each piece put in its place, and putting the rest of the shoes in order, as well- because with a husband like hers and teenaged kids to boot, who else was going to do that?- she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Work really had been hectic, and the stress of the… otherworldly business in town had done nothing to help. Ichigo barely spoke to her these days. He'd been out the night before, and had come home late, refusing to say a word of where he'd been or why, rushing past her after breakfast without a word.

Normally, that might have made a mother worry for mundane reasons. Normally, she might have worried about the normal things- that her son didn't want his mother anymore, that he was on drugs, that he'd joined a gang, that he was turning into a delinquent, that he was going to get some girl pregnant, or all of the above put together- but Masaki's worry was a lot more fundamental.

A war was coming, and her boy might die fighting it. She sighed to herself. Ichigo was so typically noble; he got that from his father. When Ichigo set his mind to something, he did it. If he saw something going wrong, he'd speak out. If he saw an innocent in danger being attacked by a monster…

She shook her head. He was powerful, but also way in over his head. She knew Erza had a team there to take the brunt of the fight, but it was a small consolation. She worried that one day, she'd find Erza on her doorstep with a grim expression, telling her how sorry she was that Ichigo had… died.

She tried to tell herself she was overreacting, over-worrying, but she knew she wasn't. And there wasn't a lot she could do; that was what was frustrating about it. Emptying her glass, she took a deep breath and tried to focus. Damn it all…

Not one to be stuck in a slump for longer than necessary, she walked out of the kitchen, and saw Isshin sitting in the living room.

"Slow day at the clinic?" she said. It had to have been; the clinic didn't close this early unless it had few patients.

Isshin sat hunched over the couch table, in a comfortable chair, looking down at something with a trance-like stare, appearing fascinated. He didn't respond, only shaking his head a good few seconds after Masaki had asked. Puzzled, she walked closer.

"What's going on, Isshin?" she said inquisitvely. She frowned as she saw; he was bent over an ash tray, a few cigarette butts lying there.

"Have you been smoking again?" she demanded. "I told you to keep that outside the house if you must. It's a bad example for the kids. I-"

"Shh-ssh!" Isshin insisted, raising a finger. Normally Masaki would have given him an earful for shushing her, but there was something about his insistent, focused tone that gave her pause.

"What?" she said. "I'm not going to-"

"Just look!" he said sharply.

"Look at what?"

Isshin took a deep breath, and held a hand over the ash tray. His brows furrowed, and a mask of intense concentration came upon him.

"Come on…" he grunted. "No, no, no, it worked before, don't you quit now…"

"Look," Masaki said, "I'm not sure what you're up to this time, but I'm too tired for you to goof around…"

Then she saw it. Very slightly, the cigarette butts moved, as if flicked by a wind. She looked around. She hadn't felt a breeze. Was there a window open somewhere? No, all windows in the living room were shut, and there was no wind. She looked back to the ash tray. The butts flickered, moved and spun around, before suddenly going still.

"You…" she said.

"I found out this morning," Isshin said, a tense excitement in his voice, "waited all day for you to come home. You're the quincy here. Feel me, Masaki. What was that just now?"

"Try again," Masaki said.

Isshin focused again, and unmistakably, there was a current of spiritual energy radiating from his fingers. She had been tired. She hadn't concentrated, but now that she did, there was no doubt. There was… reiatsu. And it was familiar.

"Well?" said Isshin, looking at her expectantly.

"Isshin…" she murmured, "that's… real power."

"Like the kind I lost?"

"Like the kind you lost," Masaki confirmed, unsure what to make of this or how to feel about it. Isshin had no such doubts, though. He lit up like a sun at her words, and grinning widely, he stood up abruptly and caught her in a bear hug.

"Stop!" Masaki demanded. "You're choking the air out of me, damn it!"

"Don't you see?" Isshin said excitably, finally releasing the rib-cracking hug. "It's coming back!"

Masaki thought carefully to herself. It would be cruel to rain on his parade, but somebody had to bring him back to Earth.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she said firmly. "Maybe it'll all come back. Maybe it won't. Maybe this is all you get. Maybe it'll take you a lifetime before you get anything close to what you once had."

"But, Masaki-"

"I love you, Isshin," she said sincerely, "and because I don't want to see you hurt, I'm telling you to take it easy. Take it for what it is, and don't expect too much."

"Sure…"

"Go see Urahara," she said encouragingly. "He'll make more sense of this than either of us can."

Isshin nodded. "Sure. Urahara. I'll…" Excitement played across his face, and before Masaki's eyes, it turned into something else. Uncertainty, hesitation, the look of the wind going out of his sails.

"…You're right," he muttered. "I'm not going to get ahead of myself. But still…"

"Keep practicing," Masaki said firmly. A second ago, he had looked so happy, like a little kid at a carnival, and she couldn't bear that going away entirely. "If it's coming back, that's good, right? So, keep at it. When you feel like it, go have it checked out. But don't give up on it."

"Sure," Isshin said thoughtfully.

"After hours," Masaki added quickly. "You still have a job and a family who need the money."

"Of course," he agreed.

"I'll go make us something to eat," she said reassuringly. "Practice while we wait, if you want."

Isshin bent over the ash tray, a palm lowered over it. Raw energy seeped out of it, and Isshin's bright and cheerful expression returned, if somewhat muted. Sighing to herself, Masaki went back to the kitchen. She wasn't sure what Ichigo was doing or where he even was. Would she have to worry about her husband, too, now?

---

"You brought him here? To where we live?"

Shinji could, when he was in a bad mood, seem very irritable without trying very hard. His voice wasn't raised, and his body language wasn't very tense, but there was no mistaking the displeasure in his voice.

"Please, Mr. Hirako," said Urahara smoothly, "you have a dozen hideouts in this town. I should know; I helped you set up at least half of them."

"It's Mr. Hirako, now?" Shinji grumbled. "You must really want our help, huh?"

"Kick him out," said Hiyori, much blunter and angrier than her former superior. "We don't got business worth having with him."

"Please, people, listen," Urahara tried. As he'd entered, one by one the visored had come to meet him, each having sensed the uneven, tainted reiatsu of his charge. Only Shinji and Hiyori stood close enough to be up in his face, but they were all of them close enough to speak, quietly waiting on the word of their de facto leader.

"No, you listen," Shinji said. "I said I'd think about it. When your stooge got in touch with us, that's what I said. First you ask us to join your little war, and then you show up on our doorstep, trying to lump some kid on us, too? That's not what any of us agreed to."

"The situation is critical," Urahara tried, keeping his voice quiet and polite. "He doesn't have any time left. If this is left alone, he'll die- and that's the best case scenario."

"And the worst?"

"You know that," Urahara said grimly.

Hachigen closed his eyes, a sure sign of focus, and Urahara knew he was sensing.

"He is like us, isn't he?" the rotund man said gently. "Or, like we once were."

"Not our problem," Hiyori said harshly.

"You know where that leads, Shinji," said Urahara urgently. "He's going to become a monster sooner rather than later, and if that happens I'll have to kill him. And I'd rather not do that."

"What's the matter? Can't fix it yourself?" Shinji said. It appeared he'd chosen to be difficult- but, Urahara had noticed, he hadn't said no yet.

"I can't," Urahara admitted. Humility was probably his best bet right now. "Maybe someday I'll know how, but his situation, like yours, is almost… unique. I was only able to stall the process. Right now, the only ones who can make a difference are your group. A young man who never asked for any of this is facing a truly terrible fate- terrible in a way only you can understand. Only you can make a difference here. Will you turn him away? I know we're not the friendliest of associates, but he's not me."

"How're we supposed to trust that?"

"Oh, come on," Lisa said, taking a step forward, rolling her eyes. "Give it a chance, why don't you?"

"What then?" Shinji demanded.

"That's enough macho dickwaving, Shinji," she said, surprisingly blunt. "You made a point. He came here unannounced, and we don't appreciate that. We appreciate privacy."

The others nodded, both Love and Kensei grunting approvingly.

"But, think about it. Sure, we're not the best of friends, but Urahara Kisuke has never scammed us, set us up, or let us down. If we need something from him, he always gets it for us."

"For a price," Shinji added.

"A deal's a deal," Lisa countered, "and is that really unfair?"

"Since when are you in bed with him?" Shinji grumbled.

"I'm not," she said with a shrug, "but I think he's earned us giving it a chance. We've traded favours in the past. Now he needs a favour from us. Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace, him owing us one?"

"I think I like the sound of that," Kensei said with a grin.

"She makes a fair point," said Rose, nodding gracefully.

Shinji looked at his visoreds. "I ain't the boss of you. We call a vote. Anyone against, raise a hand."

Only Hiyori's hand went up, the short girl staring defiantly at Kisuke. She really had a knack for being obstinate; that had never changed.

"Guess that settles it then," Shinji muttered. "Tell us about him. How'd he get this way?"

"I'll tell you as much about him as I told him about you," said Kisuke, "which isn't much. He's like you, only not. How it happened is… very different, but practically speaking, his condition is identical to yours. A hollow, and powerful at that, is eating away at his mind. He needs to control it, harness it, or he's dead or worse."

"How much time?"

"Two months at most."

"Pfft," Shinji scoffed. "You should have said that earlier. We can do it in one. Can't we, gang?"

There was a general affirmative from the group as a whole- except, of course, from Hiyori.

"I'll go get him, then," Urahara said. "I'll leave the details of the training to you. This is officially out of my hands."

"And stay out!" Hiyori shouted as he exited the building, staring stubbornly at him till the door closed.

---

Ichigo wasn't sure what to make of all this. He'd been ushered in by Urahara, who had left immediately, looking pleased. Somewhat uncertain, he'd walked inside, only to find a well lit building looking little like the glum storage space it had appeared from the outside. It was spacious, and well furnished in some areas.

Inside, eight people had been waiting, all wearing strange clothing.

"Well, whaddaya waiting for?" said one of them, a scowling girl with the physique of a school girl and the demeanour of a gruff, middle-aged yakuza.

"Don't you mind Hiyori," said the man next to her, a gangly, blond fellow. "Urahara tells us you got a problem of a very specific nature."

"…Yeah," Ichigo murmured, feeling very hesitant. If not for the fact that his back was against the wall, he wouldn't have been eager to approach them. They were all strange, and it was apparent that they were powerful; even in his current state, he could sense it. The one who had spoken to him looked mostly normal, except that his grin was creepy enough that only Ichimaru Gin's bested it.

"I'm Hirako Shinji," said the grinner, "and you are?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Ichigo said, taking a bold few steps forward, trying to conceal his unease. "You're the hollow experts?"

Shinji chuckled. "Yeah, I guess we are. Although 'expert' is a strange way of describing it. Would you call yourself an expert in breathing, or walking?"

"…I can do it well enough," said Ichigo, a little confused.

"It's natural to you. That's the way it is to all of us. It'll have to be just as natural for you, kid."

"…Okay," Ichigo said, still unsure.

"Seems you ain't so sure about us, are you?"

"It's not that," Ichigo said. "It's just…"

"It's hard to explain it. I'll just show you, then."

Shinji put a hand over his face, curled his fingers like he was grabbing something, and made a pulling motion downward. As he did so, a hollow's mask manifested over his face, large and bulky, looking reminiscent of a bony, thick pharaoh's death mask. Ichigo just stared, wide eyed.

"Ain't that precious?" said Shinji, his reverberating voice sending shivers down Ichigo's spine. "Kid's godsmacked."

The jaw of the mask moved as he spoke, a living thing like a hollow's real mask, and his eyes were glowing yellow. Ichigo felt sweat trail down his forehead, as he remembered it, the nightmares, the horrors of his own monster inside…

"It's a neat trick, isn't it?" Shinji said, lifting the mask up, letting it rest on his head. It was apparently attached to his head, because it hung in a way that certainly wouldn't let it balance properly. His voice changed as the mask was drawn up, but there was still a faint glow of yellow in his eyes.

"What… did you just do?" Ichigo stuttered. "I mean… what is that?"

"The hell does it look like?" Hiyori snorted. "It's a hollow mask, dumbass. We all got one."

"That's a fact," Shinji said casually, and at some unseen command, the mask on his head faded out of existence. "This is how we got our name. Welcome to the visored, kid."

---

Lanza Valiente made his way through the gloom of Las Noches to his private quarters. It was still strange to him, having space to himself, with actual furniture, like a human being. Strange, but not unwelcome. These new comforts, however, were the last thing on his mind. Grimmjow's humiliation and demotion weighed on him. The idea that somebody so talented, so skilled in his craft, who had been taken in by Lord Aizen would fail so capitally at understanding a purpose greater than violence…

As he walked into his quarters, he sighed and shook his head.

"Lord Valiente!"

The cry was familiar to him, cheerful and dedicated. Running up to meet him were two of his fracciones, Menoly Mallia and Loly Aivirrne, both equally dedicated to serving him. They fawned over him, both eagerly following his lead as he slumped down into the couch. Their passion for him bordered on obsession, something he was not entirely comfortable with, but it was better than the hostility and anger that plagued arrancar relations even amongst the espada.

"Loly, Menoly," he said with a smile, "I'm glad to see you are well."

"Leave our lord some space, you two!" came the gruff voice of Findor Carias, having stood guard by the door. "He is clearly weary. Leave him alone, you harlots!"

"Findor, it's fine," said Lanza with a smile, and ran his fingers through Loly's hair, putting an arm around Menoly, the two of them relishing the attention. He had always hated the loneliness of a hollow's existence, and even though he wasn't sure it was best to indulge them, he couldn't help but do it.

"I'm weary, all right, but not that weary."

"You spoil them, lord," said Ggio Vega, who had been stretched out on the far end of the couch, springing up as his master had entered the chamber.

"You're just jealous, dickhead," Loly said, sticking her tongue out, Menoly complementing the insult with a rude gesture, the both of them cuddling up against their lord.

"No infighting."

The command was absolute, and it was obeyed immediately. He hadn't even raised his voice, or even spoken strictly, but at once the four fracciones relaxed themselves. The natural state of a hollow, even amongst pack members, was to be tense and on-guard, something Lanza had worked hard to undo.

"My apologies, lord," said Findor. "As you know-"

"And no apologies either. If they're required, you will know."

"…Yes, lord," said Findor stiffly. The arrancar had great respect for him, as he had ever since Lanza had saved his life back in the wastes, but he still struggled to understand his ways.

"How did the meeting go?" said Ggio, being the smoothest of the group, changing the subject before any awkward silences could ensue.

"Poorly," Lanza said with a sigh. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez has been deposed. Stripped of his rank for disobedience, and his arm severed as punishment."

"It's better than he deserves," Menoly scoffed.

"It is tragedy," Lanza said firmly, leaning himself back. "We all have an opportunity to be greater, to rise above all of this… carnage and viciousness, and some are unwilling, or incapable, of realizing just what Lord Aizen has given us. I do not hate Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Like Lady Neliel, I pity him."

"Moreover," Ggio said, "with the septimo gone, that leaves room for you to climb higher still, Lord Valiente."

"I have no doubt Lord Aizen will elect a worthier replacement, Ggio," Lanza said. Loly returned the favour, running her fingers through his hair affectionately. He shivered a little; the intimacy of the act pleased him. "Besides, my aim is not to replace or depose others. If I spend the rest of my life as the octavo, serving Lord Aizen's new order, then that will be sufficient."

"Surely ambition is not incompatible with your ideals, lord?" said Findor with a sly smile. "After all, a higher position would mean our lord valued your opinion more highly."

"I suppose," Lanza muttered, a little distracted by Loly and Menoly's ministrations. "It is out of my hands either way. Take it easy, girls."

A little disappointed, the two of them stopped, remaining leaned closely toward him.

"I confess I've never quite understood, lord," said Findor. He was an elegant figure, composed and stoic, a far cry from Lanza's gentle composure. "You saw us through the wastelands in the many years before we were found by Lord Aizen, through much the same means as any other hollow. Yet, you are unlike the rest of us at the core."

"Cruelty was a means to an end, and a means I'd rather forget," said Lanza. "It was our only choice, but I believe we can be better. I always did."

"Why, lord?"

Lanza sighed. They had had this discussion many times before, and even now, he was sure none of his servants fully understood his perspective.

"Do you like pain, Findor?" he said. "Would you rather be beaten and hurt, or would you rather be left alone?"

"Pain is a fact of life, lord," said Ggio, with a shrug. "You might as well ask if we should or shouldn't breathe."

"It's not a dream, Ggio," said Lanza, shaking his head. "It is not some… impossible vision. All it takes is recognizing that you'd rather not be killed, and reciprocate it by not killing others. A mutually beneficial system, where everyone has it in their own best interest not to strike at each other for vain attempts at power. As hollows, all of us fight and kill, and any sense of loyalty or kinship is born out of the desire to kill and fight more effectively. That is a fact of life in our realm, or it was until now."

"So far, we are in agreement," Findor said with a nod.

"But I do not believe it is our natural state of being," Lanza said. "No, violence is forced upon us, because everyone else is violent, mistrusting, vicious, and cruel, and so we have no choice but to be violent, mistrustful, vicious, and cruel."

"We are hollows," Ggio countered, "born from regret and suffering."

"Regret and suffering do not naturally lead to violence. This vicious circle… what Lord Aizen has given us is the opportunity to break it. All it takes is one strong ruler with a vision for something better, and we can finally be… human."

"We aren't human," Findor countered.

"Do we not bleed?" Lanza said firmly. "Do we not feel joy, sadness, loss, cheer, triumph? We are stronger than humans, yes, but we have everything that makes them human- including viciousness and cruelty."

"…As you say, lord," said Findor, and Lanza recognised the conversation had hit a dead end. It was like this every time; he'd explain what he thought and his fracciones would fail to grasp it. Still… still, soon enough they would all see. Aizen would lead them into a new state of being, an evolution of the entire population of hollows. All it took to start a landslide was a single pebble rolling, and it had already begun.

"Very well," he said neutrally. "Either way… the road forward is behind Lord Aizen."

The fracciones could not disagree, and so said nothing against it.

---

It was strange how quickly her mood had swung. Momo had barely slept the night after the attack, ravaged by nightmares where her throat was torn out, where she had reached out for Erza but had been unable to speak or move, and she had woken covered in sweat, the fear of death fresh in her mind. Yet, after Erza's talk, after the comfort and encouragement her captain had offered, she had felt… uplifted.

The trauma of the previous night was still there; it hadn't magically gone away. She still shuddered at the memory. Yet, now, nearly a full twenty-four hours from when the attack had first commenced, she stood behind the Urahara shop in the backyard, a strong determination welling in her chest.

She hadn't been good enough. Her captain had been kind to say that she had, but it wasn't true. If she had been smarter, stronger, more skilled, then she wouldn't have lost, wouldn't have had to rely on somebody else to restore her to health.

Her magic was something else, something outside the dogma of current kidou teachings, taught to her by an outsider and developed further by herself, unrestrained by rules and formal logic. It had served her well, but not well enough.

She had been defeated. She hadn't been good enough. Yet, as she took a stance, the runes on her body coming aglow, she didn't feel demoralized. She was still alive. Her heart was still beating. She had growing left to do, arts to perfect, and power yet to be unlocked. It was why she had gone here on own her after hours, to train herself further.

She rose into the air, running through each sequence of energy dispersal necessary. Basic training: that was where she had to start. Perfect the flow, and then move on to the spells themselves. She felt the energy running through her entire body, her skin humming with the well contained kidou running over her skin like electricity through a cable. It was a marvel, even if she thought so herself, raw energy that could rip her apart if mishandled, running through conduit after conduit in perfect order.

She was lost in her own mind, completely concentrated, and as such was quite shocked when she heard the voice.

"Rather interesting form."

Momo yelped, a bolt of bright yellow energy spiralling out of control, lashing out toward the house. She felt her heart sink, but to her relief, a shield of magical energy blocked the discharge with ease. As she sank to the ground, she saw him sitting there cross-legged, the tall, muscular shop aide. He had an arm raised, and she couldn't quite see his eyes through his spectacles.

"Um…" she said, feeling in between surprised and embarrassed to have her failure be seen. Of course, it shouldn't be strange that a member of the shopkeeper's group might see her, but she nevertheless felt uneasy.

"It is rather an advanced formula," continued the man- Tessai, was that his name? She wasn't sure- "but it reminds me of something I've seen before."

She blinked. "You've seen this before?"

He nodded gravely, and she found it very hard to read him. He might be furious, impressed, or glad; it was impossible to tell behind that casually stern look of his.

"Not this exact formula, of course, but the basic idea is… well, it is a long time since, Miss Vice-captain."

"Hinamori Momo," Momo said.

He nodded. "I have seen its like, but it was over two centuries ago, Miss Hinamori."

"Where?"

"I was once part of the Kidou Corps," explained Tessai, "and a long time ago, when I was rather a young man, new to the ranks of the corps, I recall a researcher whose ideas would translate to magic such as this. I found his conclusions interesting, although I had no time to study them, myself. It was all rather theoretical. Then the issue became academic, as he offended the head of the corps, and got expelled from it. His work was declared heresy, and its study was barred. It seemed excessive to me, yet that is the way it was."

Momo blinked. She had never forgotten her old sensei, that scruffy, grumpy, old man, even if she hadn't seen him for many years. It wasn't too surprising that he'd have had some acquaintances in the time before his exile, she supposed. Just who was Tessai?

"Just what did you used to do? Before leaving for this world. If you don't mind my asking, that is."
She said the words carefully. She was curious now, interested, but afraid to offend him.

Tessai looked at her sternly, as stoically calm as ever. "Few ask," he said.

"You don't have to answer," Momo added quickly.

"You have kept the secret of your sensei, have you not?"

"I have."

"It is no great secret, Miss Hinamori. Most think me just a working hand here at the shop, but I am a labourer in the same sense the shopkeeper is a mere shopkeeper. I was, like him, a captain once."

"A captain?" Momo said, running back through her memory for captains of old; her history knowledge was rather decent, and she could think of no Tessai anywhere in it.

"Not of the Gotei's military wing, but of its kidou corps."

Momo breathed in. There had been a Tessai there, now that she thought of it. One who had left just about a hundred years ago…

"Oh."

He nodded. "I have led a simple life since. Yet, what I once knew is not forgotten. Your display here stirred things in my mind, long left like a box in an attic. It was… intriguing."

"You like it?" Momo said hopefully.

"It is not a question of 'like', Miss Hinamori. I find it interesting. It has potential. Yet, your method is volatile. Dangerous. Even a single mistake could be disastrous."

"That is kidou per its definition, sir," Momo said, adding the last word without even thinking.

"So it is," he agreed, "yet yours more so. The standard method of kidou, with its strict boundaries, was invented to cage this danger. Yours is… effective, particularly the way you've woven it into your very being, but the risk is proportional. Should you grow tired, the risk of catastrophic failure would grow."

"I know that," Momo said. "That's what I was taught from the start. I just… needed more strength. You get what you pay for. I pay with the risk, and what I get in exchange is power with real potential. I could spend a lifetime perfecting this."

"One lifetime would never suffice. This is a whole new field of study. Its purpose may be combat, but kidou is at its heart a scholarly pursuit. A science. And no science is ever perfected, much less by a single individual."

"I guess so," Momo said with a nod. He was right; as he spoke, she felt that he had an intuitive, deep understanding of the subject- as would be expected, of course. It made her feel at ease.

"Particularly with the basic flaw of its design."

"Flaw?" Momo said, narrowing her eyes a little.

"The flow of your reiatsu matches poorly with the basic structure of your spell. Your method of running energy from one place to another is considerably sub-par in terms of efficiency. Your sensei, I recall, was an excellent theorist, but rather mediocre in terms of practical application of his ideas."

"Wait… I've been doing it wrong?" Momo said, feeling a little annoyed. "All this time?"

He shook his head. "Not 'wrong'. If sub-par efficiency is sufficient for you, then do as you have. However, if your aim is efficiency, then that is an area that can bear considerable improvement."

"It's science," Momo said. "Finding a better way is what it's all about, isn't it?"

"Roughly speaking, yes," he agreed.

"Then, show me," she said, feeling bold enough to ask.

"I will make no demonstration," Tessai said, and Momo's heart dropped.

Then, he capped his hands, and before him a glowing set of characters appeared. Momo walked up beside him, and saw that from his perspective, it was an intricate formula written out in kidou energies- a formula describing the basic principle of Momo's method.

"But- how did you- I thought you said-" Momo stuttered.

"This is not a demonstration," Tessai said sternly. "This is theory. Be seated. I will explain."

Eagerly, Momo sat down next to him cross-legged, her eyes fixated on the formula.

"Now," Tessai began, "if you observe the curvature of the basic reishi output measured across the links which fuels the basic framing of your formula…"

It was hours before they quit, both of them fully absorbed by the subject.

---

The marble palace was forbidding, its columns looking a dark grey, almost black as Erza took one step after another up toward the entrance. She had forced her way inside, despite Tetsu no Tama's stubborn protests. She had tried to talk to the stubborn bastard. She had tried reason, and pleading. She had tried and tried and nothing was good enough. She had no more time to wait. She was a captain, commanding an important mission. She had to resolve this tonight, and if she couldn't, then she would be unfit for command.

A strong wind resisted her progress at every step, and she could feel her zanpakutou's ire like a physical thing, hanging over her. The skies were dark, and there was little light, the realm of her zanpakutou put into gloom.

She finally got to the top of the stairs, and forced herself inside. Against the wind, she walked up toward the throne. There he sat, scowling furiously, a dark expression on his face. He sat still, both arms rested on the throne's sides, and she felt his anger radiating more strongly than ever.

"Tetsu no Tama!" she called out, raising her voice over the wind.

He clenched his hands into fists, crushing the marble of the armrests. "You dare," he said, his voice all contempt, "to call my name after forcing yourself onto my home? After disrespecting the absolute, sovereign authority of this realm?"

"I do dare," she said stubbornly, staring him in the eye.

"The audacity," he said, his voice straining to keep level. "Well, it certainly is very much you, Erza Scarlet! If you had had any sense in you, you would have accepted the penance I put upon you, until I decided you were fit to wield me again!"

"A penance, for how long?" Erza demanded. "I have a war to fight. I have treated you fairly. I have always relied on you to keep my path straight, and I have never neglected you. And yet-"

"And yet you dare stand here, making demands of me. Yet you dare stand here, acting as if you are the one who should set the conditions of my servitude, not I!"

"I dare!" Erza shouted stubbornly over the wind. "I dare, because somebody has to act like an adult here!"

"You think your insolence will do you any favours?"

"I have tried," she continued firmly. "I've tried to reach you. I've tried to talk. I've almost died, several times last night, doing it all on my own. I didn't complain. I know I can err, and I know I've wronged you- but the one refusing to talk, the one refusing to settle this issue and move forward, is you. Now, which one of us is sulking like a child who lost his favourite toy? Because it isn't me, Tetsu no Tama!"

"I told you, this was not your decision to make," he fumed. "Your penance-"

"My penance?" Erza insisted, "If I were to pay penance, then the least you ought to do is let me know what it is! I will not sit back and wait for you to sit there, punishing me without letting me know what I should do to make things right."

"You ought to know that, yourself," he said haughtily, but something about his tone had changed, less abrasive, less angry.

"Should I? I know why you shut me out, and I don't blame you for taking action, but I've done everything I thought I should. I've tried to reach you, tried to humble myself, but it fell on deaf ears. The bond between a blade and its user is truly special, but it cannot work if we are not willing to communicate. Usually it's the shinigami who's obstinate, who is short-sighted, ignorant- so why is it the other way around?"

"You dare insult me, in my own home? This is your idea of settling the issue?" the spirit sneered.

"I think we're well past daring. In fact, I think I said twice that I do."

"Begone," Tetsu no Tama scoffed. "Your arrogance marks you as unfit to use me. I am no toy, no mere instrument to be wielded casually."

"I have never wielded you casually," Erza said firmly, her voice going quieter. "Tetsu no Tama, have I ever disgraced your edge? Have I ever used it to spill blood unrighteously or dishonourably?"

He balled his fists, and grit his teeth.

"Answer me!" Erza demanded. "Tetsu no Tama, have I ever drawn my blade without having good reason to do so? Was it your edge that mauled that wretched arrancar?"

He stood silent for a while, staring at her furiously.

"…That you fulfilled a bare minimum of honour," he said at last, "is not something to celebrate. To do what is expected of you is not something one ought to expect reward for."

"That is a 'yes' then," Erza said quickly, refusing to give up the point, "because if I had, if I had dishonoured you, you would never let me hear the end of it."

"It is beside the point," he said dismissively.

"How?" Erza demanded. The wind, she realized, had begun to subside.

"I have not come here to be lectured on petty details."

Erza stared him down, brows furrowed.

"Look at us," she said. "A minute ago, you were furious. Now, we're talking. Doesn't that mean something?"

"What you read into this, I have no control over," he replied, haughty as ever- but, she noticed, the sky was brightening.

"Tell me what I must do, Tetsu no Tama," she insisted, "and I will do it."

For a moment, she thought his face might ease up, that he might relax himself and speak to her plainly, but to her frustration, his features instead hardened.

"There is nothing you can do, you fool," he said, his calmer voice still brimming with resentment. "You shut out my voice. You offended me. You wounded my pride as a zanpakutou."

Erza took a deep breath, and fought the urge to scream at him. Progress! There had been real progress, for a moment, and then he went back into the same stubborn mindset, prideful and unyielding. It was like running into a wall.

"You know what?" said Erza, barely containing her anger. "You can have it your way. I'll leave, and I won't talk to you again, not until you talk to me."

"That might be a very long time indeed!"

"I'll make do."

"Without me?" Tetsu no Tama scoffed. "What would you do without me, Erza? I am your power. I am your zanpakutou. My great and radiant power is what makes people fear and respect you. Without it, you will not live past this war."

"You know," said Erza, her voice equally as hard as his, only partly bluffing as she spoke, "I held my own against an espada the other night, without even the use of my shikai. There were times I almost had him beat."

"The seventh of ten."

"And it's better than what some captains would have managed," Erza retorted stubbornly. "If you won't talk to me again, I'll make do. I'll practice that much harder. If I have to be a captain without a zanpakutou, I will. I can't believe I'm saying this, but if I have to be like Zaraki Kenpachi, I will!"

Something strange passed across his face as she said the words.

"You wouldn't have half the potential. You would be forever crippled. You would be a joke of a shinigami!"

"If I have to be a joke, I will. If I have to be a cripple, I will. I have things I have to do. Do you think I'd give up if I lost an arm or a leg? I'm not done until I'm dead; you know that. If I can do a little good as a cripple, that'll have to do. I'll do whatever I have to do!"

"Without my armour? Without the power, without the force, the speed, the strength that I grant?"

"I will do it all the same," Erza said coldly. "I'll do whatever I have to do to go forward. What I won't do is grovel to a childish spirit that won't even give me a way forward!"

Dramatically, she spun around on the spot, turning her back on him.

"Farewell, Tetsu no Tama," she declared angrily. "I'll return here when you've decided to change your mind- and if that takes eternity, then so be it!"

She took one long step, then another, marching toward the exit of his radiant palace. Behind her, Tetsu no Tama stared at her with a bewildered experience, and although she could not see his face, she could feel the uncertainty in him.

She had almost reached the exit when he cried out, "Wait!"

His voice was so different, so unlike the haughty, princely manner he usually presented himself with, sounding more like a young man, shaken to his core. Erza stopped, but didn't turn around, didn't make a move.

"Damn it all, I said to wait!" he said irritably, the usual arrogance seeping back into his voice, although lacking the usual confidence. "Come back here, then."

Erza stood still, not saying a word. The zanpakutou grit his teeth, and walked toward her.

"Face me," he demanded, when he stood just a couple yards away from her. Erza did nothing.

"Damn it all, face me!" he snarled. "Do me at least that courtesy, you wretched woman!"

Demonstratively slowly, Erza turned around, looking him in the eye.

"Not minutes ago, you told me to be gone. What changed?"

"Nothing changed," he spat. "By everything that's holy, you are as stubborn as me!"

"I wonder why that is."

"Do you not understand?" he growled. "Do you really not understand?"

"I failed to hear you," she said solemnly, "and for that I am truly sorry. I lost control when I shouldn't have. Beyond that, I do not understand. What else is there?"

"Well…" he said, shifting uncomfortably.

She simply looked him in the eye, not a scowl on her face.

"My fool master," he said with a sigh, "do you recall why I ask only the best?"

"Because only the best is worthy of holding you," Erza said, "because only excellence is acceptable."

"Exactly."

"But nobody is perfect. Nobody is flawless. Sometimes, we all show weakness. Sometimes we fail. I'm not proud of what I did, Tetsu no Tama, but I can't undo it. Can you accept serving somebody imperfect? Or, do you expect only perfection from me in all my life? Because if that is the case, I will disappoint you. If that is the case, you might as well sit here alone for the rest of your existence."

"Of course nobody is without flaw," he said, seeming to have difficulty getting out the words, as if the notion was deeply uncomfortable to him, "but even so…"

"Even so, I expect you will talk to me. If you need to punish me, do so, but the one who chose isolation was you, not me."

He sighed. "You really are stubborn. You would rather sever a limb than give up."

"That is why I am your master," she said, with a small smile.

"Yes," he agreed, sounding weary, "that is why."

"I sincerely apologize for my breach of our contract," she said, taking on her most formal, polite tone of voice, "and while I cannot guarantee it will never happen again, I will do my utmost to prevent it from happening."

To complete the apology, she bowed.

"I accept your apology," said Tetsu no Tama as she stood up, her eyes coming level with his.

"What will my penance be?"

"You have suffered already," he said dismissively. "You endured the humiliation of being beaten by such a lowly, base brute as that espada. Consider your penance paid."

She smiled, brightly and sincerely.

"I will not be a kind taskmaster going forward," he said seternly.

"You never were."

"No," he agreed, "I was not. Your path must lead to excellence, my master, or it is not worth moving forward at all."

"It will," Erza promised. "I will make something excellent of my life, or I will die trying. That has always been my aim."

"Let it be so, then," he said with a nod. "You will be given back your power the moment you return."

"Thank you."

"No thanks are required for what is expected of me."

Erza felt a change, and saw that she was clad in armour, silvery and resplendent.

"It suits you," he said, "and know this, my master: you have much left to unlock yet. Never stop improving yourself."

"Never," Erza promised, firmly and sincerely.

---

Looks like Erza was finally able to regain her full power. Well, what her full power was. As Tetsu No Tama told her at the end, she has many more armors to unlock. Many from cannon, but also some original ones too.

But Erza isn't the only one trying to improve herself. Both Ichigo, Uryu, and Momo are doing the same in their own way. Ichigo by going to the vizards. (Because this cant go on anymore.) Uryu by taking up the Knights of Vanden offer, and Momo by getting training by freaking Tessai of all people. Needless to say, improvement is coming for all of them.

Speaking of Momo, I really liked the scene with her and Erza. Going through what she did, not just once, but twice in such a short period of time, that would make anyone feel a little...well, like that. But Erza knows what she needed to do, and she did it well.

Also, no, unlike cannon, we are going to have Orihime continue to contribute to the conflict. This isn't DBZ where the humans just get left to the wayside so the saiyan's can have all the glory, no, I fully intend to let the humans keep doing their thing and do it well.

Finally we have the arrancar side of the story. As you can tell, Grimjow is taking this about as well as he did in cannon...or maybe worse. We'll see were that goes. Also, yes, I did give Lanza two of Barragans fracciones. I found them to be a better fit to him than Barragan, the same going to Loly and Menoly, who were never assigned to an Espada. Their some of my favorite Arrancar, so you can expect more of them in the future.

But that's all I have for now. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to your thoughts on it in the reviews.