Happy Easter, and Happy April Fools everyone! I figured you all could use a entertaining chapter on this Holiday, so here you are. You don't have to worry about this being a April fools prank or anything either. I wouldn't do that to ya. In any event, I hope that you all enjoy this chapter. I cant wait to hear your thoughts in the reviews.
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.
Lanza walked into the chamber, feeling a little uneasy. A mixture of emotions were stirring in his chest; exhilaration, cheer, joy, nervousness, fear, excitement.
Not long after Grimmjow's disgrace, he had been called up to stand before Aizen's throne, and to Lanza's disbelief, he had been granted the rank of septimo, taking Grimmjow's place. His forearm still ached, where his tattoo had been changed from an eight to a seven. It had honoured him beyond words to be elevated further up; he had never expected it. Part of him, a part that was ambitious, proud, and a little vain, had longed for it- but the rational part of him had said that no, it wouldn't happen, that Aizen would draw from the multitude of new arrancar to find a more powerful replacement. There was no shortage of them now, and competition was fierce. Many had vied for the position, trying to impress their new king, but to no avail. It had been Lanza, against everyone's expectations, who had taken the knee before the throne and accepted the rank.
After visiting Szayel's lab to update his tattoo, he had broken the news to his fracciones, all of whom were overjoyed. He had then relaxed himself in his chambers, processing the news. For hours he had sat, overwhelmed. A higher rank. New responsibilities. Greater esteem in Lord Aizen's eyes. It was difficult to believe, and he half-expected to wake up from a dream, but hour after hour passed and he was still living his dream.
Then, a messenger arrancar had informed him that Lord Aizen required his presence immediately, and Lanza had gotten to his feet, and almost run down the halls to his lord's working chambers, only slowing down as he got within a few yards of its doors. He stood still before the doors for a few seconds, making sure to compose himself, to calm down, to breathe and make sure he looked dignified, worthy of his new rank. After making sure he had composed himself, he raised a hand, and rapped at the door.
To his surprise, the door was opened by Tier Halibel, and he paused, a little stunned. She was taller than him, and had quite an imposing presence, raw power emanating from her form.
"Enter," she said flatly, and he knew by her tone that this was not a request. After a second or two, he snapped himself out of his reveries, and walked inside.
He had never seen his lord's chambers before. It was a spacious place, with couches and a low table decorating the far end of it. There sat Neliel To Oderschvank and Ulquiorra Cifer, and Lanza felt more than a little awed. The cuarto, the quinta, and the tercera, all in one room?
But noticeably enough, he could not see his lord.
Presently, however, Aizen Sousuke walked into the room, opening a door revealing a side room. Lanza caught a glimpse of book cases and a desk; clearly his lord's designated workspace.
"Ah, Lanza," he said cordially, his tone far less imposing and formal than the authoritative voice Lanza was used to hearing from the throne.
"My lord!" Lanza said, putting a hand over his chest and falling to one knee, bowing deeply.
"While I appreciate the respect you show me," Lord Aizen said gently, "I would ask that you stand. This is not the throne room."
"Yes, lord," said Lanza quickly, standing bolt upright.
"You look confused," said Lord Aizen.
"I… it is not for me to question," Lanza said hesitantly.
Aizen chuckled. "You wonder 'why am I here, and what are all these other espada doing here', I'd wager."
Unsure of himself, Lanza nodded.
"Please, be seated," said Aizen, gesturing toward the couch. Although it was formed as a request, Lanza took it as an order- a much easier thing to process- and marched over to the couch, sitting down near Neliel. He made sure not to sit too close, so as to avoid offending her.
He sat opposite to Ulquiorra, who said nothing, only staring at him with his piercing, green eyes. Keenly aware that compared to each and every one of these espada, he was like a child, Lanza felt a bead of sweat trail down his cheek.
"Relax already," Neliel said, in a friendly tone. Her, he was not afraid of; she had treated him with respect and politeness in the past, and he looked up to her- but she was still the quinta, still stronger and more important than he.
"Y-yes, Lady Neliel," he stuttered.
"At least he's well mannered," Halibel said dryly, leaning herself against the wall, keeping at the outside of their little gathering.
"How does your new mark suit you, Lanza?" asked Aizen, standing in front of the couches, facing all four of them.
"It pains me a little, lord," Lanza admitted, "but I am glad to bear it."
Aizen nodded. "I won't keep you in suspense. I summoned you here because Neliel saw something in you. Just as she observed the former septimo, she has seen you, too. If she is right- and I have yet to find fault in her judgment- then you are exceptional among hollows, among my arrancar."
Lanza blinked. "I am but the octavo- I mean, septimo, lord. You have far more exceptional warriors than I."
"It is not a matter of strength," Aizen said slowly, "although I understand why you might think it is, given your company."
"Then… what is it, lord?" said Lanza, in between curious and befuddled.
"Tell me, Lanza Valiente, what is it you want out of life?"
His lord's question caught him unawares, and Lanza gaped for a second before answering, "To serve your will, Lord Aizen."
"Good enough," said Lord Aizen, "but surely you serve me for a reason. Some serve me because they are awed by my powers, others because they fear me. Some serve me for better reasons than that. Either way, everyone who serves me has a reason. If Neliel is correct, then I believe you do not serve me out of fear. So, what is it you want out of life?"
Lanza felt a little dumbstruck. He had never expected a man as great as Lord Aizen to take an interest in his beliefs and motivations, but he realized that his lord had asked him a question, and he had better answer. It would not do to disappoint him.
"I…" he said, collecting himself. "I do not serve you out of fear, lord, that much is true."
"Go on," Lord Aizen said.
Lanza blinked. "You brought peace where there was pandemonium, lord. You brought order where there was chaos, respite where there was struggle, life where there was death. As a hollow, that was all I ever wanted. You have given me most of what I want out of life already, lord."
"Only most?"
"I meant no offense, lord," Lanza said quickly.
"None was taken," Lord Aizen said calmly, "but do tell me, what is the rest of what you want?"
Lanza took a deep breath.
"I want us to be people," he said. "We hollows were once human. We can be again. If not in body, then at least in spirit."
He shook his head, a little shocked by his own audacity. It was no small thing to wish for.
"Forgive me, lord. It is just a foolish rambling-"
"Not at all," said Lord Aizen. "As I once told a former subordinate: if we wish to change the world, we must first dare to dream, to commit to a grand vision. Anything short of that is mediocrity. So, tell me- you want your kin to be as humans?"
"Yes, lord," Lanza said breathlessly. "I see so much cruelty, cruelty that creates more cruelty, a never-ending cycle of death and violence. As I've seen from your rule, that was never necessary. We have everything we need to be people- good and evil both, cruel and kind, compassionate and uncaring. It is in all of our minds, and only this… world of eternal night forces us to be only cruel and only violent."
Lord Aizen nodded. "Neliel was right about you."
Lanza looked at Neliel, who gave him a reassuring smile.
"Tell me, Lanza, what do you think this gathering is?"
"I have no idea, lord," said Lanza sincerely.
"It is not a gathering of my very strongest," explained Lord Aizen. "As you may see, neither Starrk nor Barragan is present. Neither is it a gathering of specialists with particular skills useful to my cause. No, Lanza, this is a gathering of like-minded souls."
"Lord?"
"Ulquiorra?" Lord Aizen said with a nod.
Ulquiorra stood up and nodded courteously at his master. Speaking up in his quiet, deadpan voice, he said, "This is Lord Aizen's inner circle, consejo de la sombra, Valiente. We are those chosen not for our strength, but for our dedication to our lord's war on the Gotei and his vision for change."
Lord Aizen nodded, and Ulquiorra sat down.
"Here I have gathered those few who not only understand to obey, but why we fight. Those who have a reason better than fear, respect, blood thirst, cruelty, or hunger. Neliel told me you had a noble spirit, Lanza, and it seems she is right. So, I ask that you join this… informal gathering of mine, and serve me in ways that others cannot."
Lanza's heart raced. To be graced not only with the elevation of one rank, but this special council? What more could he ask for?
"It would be my pleasure, lord," he said intensely, realizing he had almost shouted the words.
Aizen nodded with a smile. "I thought as much. Here I have gathered those with the capacity to understand the full extent of my vision. A better tomorrow. A Gotei, conquered and remade in my image, a world where shinigami and hollow will not be at war."
Lanza's eyes widened. It seemed unthinkable.
"As I said," said Lord Aizen, his voice sending chills of awe down Lanza's spine, "let your dreams be grand, or do not dream at all."
Lanza, wide-eyed, collected himself enough to ask, "But, lord… how would you accomplish this?"
Lord Aizen looked at him, the very picture of patience and benevolence, and nodded. "It will not be simple. That, I assume, is a given."
Lanza nodded back.
"The first step is easy enough to understand. The Gotei must fall. This will not be easy for a kind man, Lanza. Some of them may be open to re-education, open to new ideas, but most of the shinigami leadership must die, along with any of their subordinates who would resist. Aside from one or two individuals at most, the captains and vice-captains must die."
"I understand," Lanza said quietly.
"We are creating a new world," said Lord Aizen, "and we must wash away the grime of the old before we can make a bright, new tomorrow. This army of mine will have no place for those unwilling to stain themselves red with the blood of our enemies."
Lanza paused. He was no stranger to death, to killing or violence, and he was well aware that he was signed up for a war, but part of him had wanted to avoid it. But, it was of course inevitable.
"I will do anything my lord requires of me," he said firmly. "I will kill when I am asked to kill. I will destroy your enemies. I will not relish it, Lord Aizen, but I will not hesitate or stay my blade. If they must die, then I will kill as many as I am able, as many as you require."
"Well said," Halibel said, nodding with approval.
"Indeed," said Aizen, "it is unpleasant, but unfortunately necessary. The Gotei has already rejected my vision. For all the time I've spent there, I am confident none of my ideas are welcome."
"And then, lord?" said Lanza, staring at his lord's face, mesmerized. "After all have died that need to die?"
"I will assume command," said Aizen. "I will give posts of command to the four of you, along with those shinigami most willing to accept my new order. I will create a society that welcomes you, that does not require you to kill to survive, or be needlessly cruel. I will create a society without greedy, piggish nobility to eat up all of the Soul Society's resources, one that is fair, just, and safe for all its souls- and I will create a society here in Las Noches, free of savagery, brutality, and fear. I will become lord of all things in both realms. I will unite both of these in peace and harmony, and end once and for all the needless conflict between shinigami and hollow."
"But the hollows who prey on humanity, lord?"
"They are in defiance of my will. The shinigami will remain for the same purpose- to protect mankind from renegade hollows and to send stray souls on to the Soul Society. I will keep the things that function well in the Gotei, and purge the things that do not. I will revolutionize the world- no, the worlds," said Lord Aizen, and his voice carried with it a certain gravitas and finality that was impossible to disbelieve. Lanza realised he was smiling with genuine happiness.
"Thank you, lord," he said, his voice quiet, almost breathless. "I could ask for nothing more."
"Then, you are satisfied?"
"Swearing myself to your cause will give me all I could want," said Lanza sincerely. "I knew your aim was conquest of the Soul Society, but I had no idea the reason for it was so… benevolent."
"You thought me another warlord."
"I beg your forgiveness, Lord Aizen."
"It is alright," Aizen said calmly. "What else would you have had reason to assume?"
Lanza nodded quietly, quite amazed.
"Do you swear yourself to my vision, then?"
"Yes, lord!"
"Even if it costs you your own life, or the lives of those precious to you?"
"Yes, lord!"
Lanza felt a pang of discomfort at the idea of his fracciones killed on the battlefield, but for the vision Aizen had presented, no cost could be too great. He remembered the horrors of the Hueco Mundo wastes, and shivered. No, nothing was too much for an idea like this.
Aizen smiled. "Then, I am glad to accept you into my consejo de la sombra, Lanza Valiente. Rest assured that it will not just be some insider gathering- I will trust all of you with specific duties I could not assign to servants without tact or understanding of my vision."
Lanza felt his heart swell. This was more than he could ever have hoped for.
Ichigo hadn't expected his teacher to switch from one to the next so easily, but when he showed up the next day, Shinji was nowhere to be seen. Instead he had been approached by two of the women, the green-haired Mashiro and the strict-looking Lisa, and he was only thankful that the ill-tempered brat from before wasn't there.
"Alright," Lisa exclaimed, her tone very much that of a no-nonsense school teacher, "are you ready to continue?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" said Ichigo uneasily.
"I can see that," said Lisa, and Ichigo felt like he'd said the wrong thing somehow.
"Your teacher today will be Mashiro, here," Lisa said, gesturing with her thumb, "but I wanted to go through a few things first."
Mashiro waved cheerily, and Ichigo nodded.
"Sure."
"Tell me, what do you think goes into controlling a hollow?" said Lisa.
"I have… no idea." Ichigo admitted.
"Yes, you do," Lisa said firmly, looking him in the eye, and Ichigo felt a little cold sweat trail down his back. She had quite a glare on her.
"Um… I'm not sure…"
"Think, boy," said Lisa irritably. "Did you learn nothing from yesterday?"
"Well… I remember Shinji stabbing me and then I got the mask off," said Ichigo, trying to make sense of it.
"And you got the mask off because…"
"Because I… focused. I really, really hated him that moment. It really hurt."
"Keep going."
"That son of a bitch…" Ichigo muttered, feeling yesterday's anger well up. "I wanted to thump him in the face. But I couldn't if I was stuck there. Couldn't do anything. I just… kinda forgot about the hollow for a second."
"You focused on something else. Which tells you?"
"It's, uh, about focus?"
"Willpower," Lisa corrected him firmly. "It's about your mental fortitude."
She made a clawed hand, brought it up to her face palm-inward, and pulled down, materializing the mask over her face. It was unlike any Ichigo had seen, more the shape of a kite than anything else, a cross-shaped slit running across most of it. Lisa lifted it up, letting it rest on her head.
"This," she said, gesturing with her thumb at it, "doesn't come easy. Not at first. You know what it's like to have a hollow eat away at your mind. It's always looking to find a way to take over, take control. But, you can beat it into submission. Being visored means always being in control of yourself. I can summon this at will, I can take it on and off any time I want, because I've built a cage of will around the thing in my head. I control it, because I control myself. It has no choice but to obey. You have a rabid dog in your head, and it's up to you to put it in a pen. You get there by learning to control yourself. The better you control your energies, the more easily it will come to you. Eventually…"
Ichigo felt a surge of power, and in her palm he saw an orb of red energy form, malicious and hollow-like, raw and powerful, yet completely contained. Lisa made a fist, and the energy dissipated as if squashed.
"Eventually?" he said nervously.
"Eventually it makes you powerful," she said, "stronger than a normal shinigami. You heal faster. You hit harder. You harness powers others cannot. It's not just the hollow- the control we've had to learn over our own bodies is a massive help. It's alike to, say, being a fitness nut who runs ten miles a week and goes to the gym every other day."
"You get healthy, live longer, all that stuff?"
"Exactly like that," Lisa said with a nod. "Mashiro, I'll let you take it from here." Seeing Ichigo's skeptical look, she added, "Don't be fooled. Mashiro was the first of us to learn how to control hers, and she can hold her mask longer than anyone else. She's a virtuoso."
"I'm not really that virtuous, or anything," Mashiro said with a cheeky smile, "but Lisa sure is nice to say it."
"R-right," Ichigo muttered.
"O-kay," Mashiro started, "you come with me. We're going to start simple."
"What with?" Ichigo said, and followed her as she dragged him further inside the warehouse.
"Moving rocks," Mashiro said.
She hadn't been kidding, although it was more like pebbles. Ichigo looked down in disbelief, as he sat cross-legged opposite of Mashiro, both of them having a pile of small rocks in front of them.
"What's this supposed to be?" he said with a frown, feeling like he was being tricked.
"Didn't you listen?" Mashiro chided him. "You need to learn basic control first. You're like, pretty good for a rookie, but your basics are super mediocre."
She focused, and moved a hand over her pile of rocks, which neatly parted, forming a basic arrow shape.
"Whenever you move as a spiritual being, you cause a kind of ripple around you," she explained. "Your energy has both a physical and a spiritual effect. It's not like you can use the force and actually throw rocks, but this close, you can see how a powerful reiatsu affects physical objects. With good control, you can direct how these things go. Now, you try."
Ichigo just stared at her.
"I've got a monster in my head," he said plainly, his tone completely deadpan. "It comes to haunt me every night with horrific nightmares. It's threatening to destroy everything I am and kill my family. And you want me to move around little bits of rock?"
"Yes," Mashiro said plainly.
"Are you kidding me?"
Her arm a flicker, faster than he could track, Mashiro flung a pebble at Ichigo's forehead. Ichigo yelped, reeling back more out of surprise than by the force of the rock. His forehead stung, and as he rubbed it with one hand, he felt a drip of blood.
"Are you crazy?" he spat. "I mean, what the hell?"
"Focus," Mashiro said firmly, "and if the training doesn't suit you, the door is that way." Demonstratively, she pointed toward the exit.
The prospect of being left on his own was terrifying, and Ichigo's anger washed off.
"Hey, hey, no need for that," he said hastily. "It's just… what the hell is this supposed to do? How's this going to… fix me?"
"You learn to crawl before you learn how to walk," Mashiro said.
"I'd say I know how to walk!"
"Halfway," Mashiro said dismissively, making a so-so gesture with her hand. "You're strong and I'm sure you know your way around a sword, but your control is atrocious. Don't get so full of yourself because you got a bit of muscle. All the strength in the world can't save you from this."
"R-right…" Ichigo muttered. "And these… pebbles help me how?"
"Obviously they're there to help you gauge your reiatsu flow," Mashiro said, rolling her eyes. "If you can do that properly, then moving the pebbles a certain way isn't difficult. So, hop to it."
Sighing frustratedly, Ichigo closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself to focus. Slowly, he channeled some energy into his hand, and lowered it over the stack of pebbles in front of him. For a second, he saw the smallest ripple in the dust around the ground, and the first pebble trembled a little. Then as he lowered his hand just a millimeter, the stack of pebbles dispersed and tumbled every which way, rolling a few inches before settling down. It was a complete mess, compared to Mashiro's neat stack.
He let out a grunt of frustration. "How's this even supposed to work?" he said irritably.
Mashiro flicked her hand again, and this time, Ichigo caught the pebble aimed for his forehead.
"Will you stop that?!"
"It's not going to be easy," said Mashiro, looking him in the eyes, breathing out exasperatedly. "Honestly, do you think you're going to get it right on your first try? I mean, I'm a genius, and it still took me, like, days to figure that out."
"…What's the normal rate?" Ichigo asked with a sinking feeling in his gut.
"Couple years."
"I don't have a couple years!" Ichigo burst out. "If I don't get this fixed soon, then, then-"
"Listen!" Mashiro said firmly. "Shinji said we'd fix this problem for you, didn't he?"
"Yeah, but I don't see him anywhere!" Ichigo snarled frustratedly. "And here I am wasting my time-"
"You're not wasting anything," Mashiro said, shaking her head. "We are going to deal with your hollow more directly, and soon, but you have to start somewhere. This is training you're going to have use of for the rest of your life, and you're going to have a long life ahead of you if you don't get yourself killed. Understand me?"
"I…" Ichigo said, taking a deep breath and forcing his emotions under control. "I'm sorry. I've just been… stressed out."
"I understand."
Ichigo's first thought was to say that no, you don't, but he thought better. These visored, quirky as they were, were the only ones who possibly could understand. As frustrating as this was, he had no choice.
"Alright," he said with a sigh. "Again?"
"Again," Mashiro said with a nod, returning her stack of pebbles to normal. Ichigo did the same, and following her cue, he tried to get them right. He felt a pang of irritation as the same exact thing happened as the first time. This was going to be a long road.
Grimmjow sat alone in his room, splayed out on the couch. His stump ached, but he barely even noticed it. He was struck with a deep malaise, sunk into a mixture of melancholy, self-pity, bitterness, and anger.
He'd lost a limb. It wasn't even close to as bad as losing his status, and being forced to live out this way in humiliation. Worst of all, he was… alone. Entirely alone. Not even Edrad had come back; Grimmjow had last seen him head toward that little shit Lanza's quarters. Perhaps he'd taken a hint. Grimmjow had no use for losers.
But somehow, this state of being was… unpleasant. With nobody to complain to, or bully, or shout at, or listen to his boasts, it was as if his loss of a limb had happened twice over. Grimmjow had been a hollow for a very long time, for so long that he had forgotten what he had been before his transformation, and ever since he'd grown strong enough to bully around those weaker than him, he'd been surrounded by admirers. This was the way of a hollow: follow the strong and find safety in numbers if you were weak, and move forward if you were strong. He'd had many companions, and the vast majority of them had died along the road. Some he'd sacrificed, some had died fighting, and a few he had killed himself after they had displeased him. But for a very long time- many years, surely? Hueco Mundo's perpetual night sky offered no sense of time, and only his incursions into the world of the living ever reminded him it even existed- Edrad, Ylfordt, D-Roy, Shawlong and Nakeem had been his companions. He'd learned their personal quirks, their ideas and personalities. He'd come to rely on them, more so than any other hollow before them.
It had only made sense. He was going to be king, and a king should surround himself with the most capable of subordinates.
"What you make of that, Shawlong?" he said, turning his head round to stare at the corner his fraccion would usually stand in.
He stared into the gloomy nothing of an empty room.
Why had he even said that? Shawlong was dead. He'd died a weakling's death in Karakura. Grimmjow was keenly aware of that. It was just that… that whenever something hadn't made complete sense to him, he'd have asked Shawlong, because although he would never have admitted it, Shawlong was more clever and sensible than Grimmjow himself, and his advice had seldom been wrong.
"Ain't that right, Ylfordt?" Grimmjow said with a grin.
He looked into the empty room. What was this? Ylfordt was dead too! Ylfordt had died, just like everyone except Edrad, because they were too stupid and weak!
Except Ylfordt had always known what to say. He'd had a silver tongue to put the best spin on the situation, and it had always made Grimmjow feel more confident.
Grimmjow opened his mouth again as if to speak, but shut it. He was alone now. They were dead. What was he doing? What the fuck was wrong with him? Why the fuck was he sitting here, moping in his room over some useless, shitty subordinates that couldn't even kill a few shinigami, even with their newfound powers? Why was he sitting here talking to himself, thinking about them? They were useless and stupid, and he didn't need them. He never had! Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had never needed anyone but Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and all who followed him did so at his leisure under his rule. They didn't matter; he did.
Not knowing why, he felt a wave of rage well up in his chest. Unlike the cold bitterness that had been festering in his heart, it was white-hot and furious, like a wildfire. He sprung to his feet, made a fist, and ran at the wall. He slammed his fist into it, then again and again. The wall began to crumble under his strikes, marble chipping and breaking, until a huge crack had formed in the wall, a hole being punched through it. His hand had gone numb, he realized, and his knuckles were bleeding. He'd been letting out a loud, long growl without even being aware of it, a throaty, furious sound reminiscent of something from his most hectic, cruel times out in the wastes of Hueco Mundo.
What was wrong with him? What had happened? Why was he losing control like this?
Uryu had looked forward to the next meeting, and when Meninas had come to pick him up after school, he had eagerly followed. Haschwalth had not disappointed him, the charismatic grand master lauding him with tales of the quincies' origins.
The man had a certain way of piercing Uryu's defenses; he was easygoing, approachable, and not the least bit reminiscent of the stern kind of military man one would expect from such an exalted position in a martial order. Conversing with him felt like talking to an elder brother or cousin, and although Uryu remained wary, aware that he was perhaps being manipulated, it was hard not to get caught up.
He knew he should be more cautious, not too trusting. He didn't know of their motivations, or if anything they said was true. But it spoke to his young heart, the knowledge of the quincies he had so long wished to learn. It was not a rosy set of tales, either; by Haschwalth's account the historical quincies seemed to have been as brutal and ruthless as any other group of humans, slowly learning a better way across the centuries. It felt very… believable. After his father's bitter, resentful tale, learning what sounded like a well-balanced truth, of cruelty mixed with nobility, of progress and regress, it was something Uryu had needed. To know the quincies had been real, not just legends to be placed on a pedestal, that they had been humans with flaws but nevertheless in pursuit of noble ideals…
But after a couple of hours, he became restless. The tales of history were fascinating, but one question burned inside him above all others, one that Jugram had promised to answer… eventually.
"Grand master- Jugram," Uryu corrected himself, "I do not wish to be impolite, but I have a request to make of you."
"What is it, young Uryu?" said Jugram, seeming not to have taken offense at Uryu's interruption.
"You have told me the tales," Uryu said. "You have told me of how we rose in Europe, how the many clans hid themselves from the eyes of history, how we spread and learned new techniques, how we numbered in the tens of thousands, how we've always protected mankind from hollows, and I sincerely find it fascinating."
"But?"
"But," Uryu said urgently, "I know I am skipping ahead quite a bit here, but I must know. What happened to my grandfather?"
"I did say we would get there," Jugram said mildly.
"I must know," Uryu insisted, shaking his head. "Nothing matters to me more. It was grandfather who first taught me the arts. It was he who first taught me the nobility of quincy values, to protect the weak and ward off evil, that being a quincy meant vigilance and sacrifice. You told me he was once a member of your order yesterday. He must have represented the very best of our clan if you accepted him, given your opinion of them. What happened?"
Jugram sighed.
"I suppose there can be no swaying you," he said, and shrugged. "I do not blame you for asking. We all seek to know our origins."
"Will you tell me, then?"
"There is no grand revelation to make," Jugram said. "I first met your grandfather nearly half a century ago when he was a young man traveling abroad. I was impressed with him, and introduced him to our order. He spent time there as a guest, learning our ways, and teaching us some of his in return. He made several trips to our keep as a young man, and for his valour in combat and honourable character, our king offered him an honorary membership. We knew of the ways of his clan and disapproved of them, yet he embodied none of it. Ishida Souken was by all accounts one of a kind, skilled, powerful, and honourable."
"Is that it?" Uryu said, a little disappointed; he had hoped to learn something of substance.
"Mostly, yes. Eventually our king offered him to join our order, but only on the condition that he leave his clan behind. Their ways were incompatible with ours, and although we very much respected him, we could not abide a dual loyalty. Your grandfather thanked His Majesty for the offer, but rejected it and left for home. I never saw him again."
Uryu looked at Jugram, eyebrows narrowed. If the grand master had lied, then he was an expert; his face conveyed a complete and total sincerity, his tone wistful as if dwelling on a past regret. "…Why did he leave, then? If he was so respected there, and so unlike our clan, why didn't he stay?"
"I cannot be sure," Jugram admitted, "but I believe it is a lot to ask that a man give up his home and his family. We all belong somewhere. Perhaps it was for his son. Perhaps it was knowing that a child would one day be born, a child needing guidance. Whatever the case, he left our order behind. We later learned he was slain in a freak accident of sorts."
"Overwhelmed by hollows…" Uryu muttered darkly, "an 'accident', you think so?"
Jugram shook his head. "No. In fact, what we thought to be an accident was, when looked at more closely, far too convenient. Swarmed by hollows until he was exhausted? That almost never happens naturally. Hollows rarely commit to a fight that will cost them dearly. They are animals. What does such a strange and sudden concentration of hollows sound like to you?"
"Hollow bait," Uryu muttered, balling his fists. "But, who?"
"Not a fellow quincy, we know that. We checked. Your clan was the only one in Japan that could have organised that, and they had neither motive nor capacity. Why would they want one of their strongest warriors dead? No, after some interrogation, we were reasonably certain they had no part in it."
"Then, who?"
"Who do you believe could recreate the hollow's bait?"
"The shinigami? But they're not…" Uryu paused. "Their science division, could they possibly have done so?"
"We know," said Jugram gravely, "that the captain of their twelfth division, likewise the head of their science department, has over the years led a relentless hunt against the survivors of the last quincy wars. Your clan, too, was targeted. A warrior of Souken's quality would surely have made a fine specimen."
Uryu grit his teeth. "You know this, how?"
"Some of our members have felt his tender mercies," said Jugram, and ever so slightly, his tone hardened. "The man is an amoral monster. We are sure he is to blame."
Uryu took a breath, composing himself. His beloved grandfather, tortured and experimented upon until death? The thought of it filled him with rage, with an all-consuming thirst for revenge.
But, then he remembered his father's warnings, and looked Jugram in the eye.
"Is that the truth," Uryu asked, "or is it just speculation?"
"Speculation?" Jugram said confusedly.
"It seems to me," said Uryu, forcing his voice to remain stable, "that if you wanted me on your side, using my grandfather would be a really useful tool, wouldn't it?"
Jugram sighed. "You really don't trust us, do you?"
"I don't know who to trust," Uryu said. "The Gotei Thirteen are no angels, but I don't know who you are or what your goals are. I want to learn- I want to know our history and gain more strength, but I've no interest in becoming your puppet."
"The truth," said Jugram slowly, giving Uryu a strange look, "is that no, we do not know with certainty. We have not seen Souken's body, nor can we confirm he was taken by the twelfth division."
"So, what was that, then?" said Uryu angrily. Had they really been trying to manipulate him? "You just said-"
"Tell me, young Uryu, if you had video footage of a man with a knife running toward a person, and evidence that his victim was stabbed to death, would you say that you can't be sure our knife-wielding maniac was the killer just because you didn't see it happen? Even if you knew he had murdered before?"
"I… I mean, all I have is your word," Uryu muttered, unable to rebut the quincy's statement.
"You do not have to accept anything we say," said Jugram, his tone calm and mild, reassuring. "You can choose to believe or disbelieve everything or nothing I've told you."
"What do you want with me?" Uryu said bluntly. The topic of his grandfather's death had stripped away his usual politeness, and he was already on edge, unsure of these new quincies.
"Full disclosure?"
"Please."
"Alright," said Jugram with a nod. "We are in fact interested in you as a potential candidate for our order. But there will be no pressure, no force or manipulation. If you are found worthy, the offer will be made to you, as it was made for your grandfather. If not, you will at least walk away from this stronger and more capable than ever before. That really is all of it."
"So you say," said Uryu, stubbornly skeptical. Somehow, he felt a little more at ease with Jugram's frank proclamation, but he was unwilling to show it.
"So I say, and so I swear on my honour as a knight and a quincy," said Jugram seriously.
Uryu took a deep breath. He had no intention of being used- but then again, everything Jugram had told him was perfectly believable.
"Enough for today?" Jugram suggested.
Uryu nodded.
"Very well, then. Meninas?"
The paladin, who had been waiting just within earshot, walked up and gave a short, courteous bow. "Yes, grand master?"
"For now, I am assigning you to look after young Uryu, here."
"I didn't ask for that," Uryu muttered.
"War looms," said Jugram plainly, "and this city is not safe. As a potential prospect, we have an interest in your safety."
"You won't even know I'm there," Meninas said with a smile.
"Escort him home, paladin," said Jugram. Uryu wanted to protest, but with a sigh, he decided not to. What had he gotten himself into?
Erza skipped back, evading a slash that would have caught her in the side, and continued to dodge and evade. She had stripped out of her armour to ensure it would be a fair bout, despite Captain Kuchiki's insistence that their spar required no special advantages in his favour. She suspected he believed her to be taking pity on him, but it wasn't that at all- Erza believed in honing all her skills, and fighting without armour was a skill she couldn't allow herself to forget. She couldn't always expect to lean on it, and there was a noticeable difference in speed when she had dropped it. The plate didn't weigh all that much, all things considered, but it had been enough to slow her down a little.
Byakuya pressed his advantage. Isane had declared him fit for duty in the morning, and by lunchtime he had requested a spar from her. Judging by the zealous nature of his sword-play, he was pushing himself to his limits. Erza had several times wanted to ask him if he shouldn't slow down, but had stopped herself each time. Not only would the nobleman have been deeply offended by such a statement, but Erza too knew what it felt like to push herself harder than perhaps she should.
Kuchiki Byakuya was by all accounts a phenomenal swordsman, and despite having only recently recovered from his injuries, he was pushing her to the limit of her skills- that is, the limit of her power without the use of either of their shikai or kido. He had barely even warmed up before he had gone into the fight with all he had, holding nothing back. A casual observer- or even a skilled observer- might easily have mistaken it for a real duel. How did Ichigo manage to defeat him? she wondered. His skill with a blade was equal to hers, and she knew his arsenal was far broader; his use of kidou dwarfed hers. She made a mental note to ask Ichigo later, as she dodged under another swing.
She kicked him in the midsection, sending him sliding back. That was one edge she had over him, at least- as masterful as Byakuya was with a blade, it was strictly tied to formal practice, whereas Erza had some experience with unorthodox, more close-quarters fighting.
Like that accursed espada.
"Uncivil," Byakuya muttered, his face and voice both equally dispassionate.
"It worked," Erza said with a shrug. "You had me on the defensive, and now you do not. Does battle care about civility?"
Byakuya looked at her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "If we care not for civility at all, we are no different from the beasts."
"Would a hollow congratulate me for being chivalrous? Or would it seek the opportunity to kill me by any means necessary?"
"We are not hollows."
Erza sighed. The man had an inflexible mind, rigidly traditionalist and conservative. Then again, what else was to be expected from a clan head of his calibre?
"I will not apologize for using a fighting style that works," she said firmly. "There was no deceit or trickery in my method- only the unexpected. What happens to those who cannot anticipate the unexpected?"
"I fail to see what-"
"They die," Erza said flatly. "Your beliefs may serve you well, Kuchiki Byakuya, but no one method can account for everything. If I manage to defeat you using something you could not anticipate, that doesn't make me 'uncivil'. It means your method was insufficient."
Byakuya appeared to consider her words for a second, then said, "You speak with considerable pride and confidence for a leader of your experience."
"I was named commander," said Erza. She braced herself; out of all the people in her expedition, somebody like Byakuya was the most likely to have objected to her leadership, and she wondered if he secretly did.
"Our captain-commander named you so, that is true," he said ponderously, "and as he commands, we obey."
"But?"
"What gives you the idea there is a 'but'?"
"There always is," Erza said with a sigh. "I'm hardly an expert on social things, but I know when people aren't done talking."
"I have no intention of questioning my orders."
"Then as your commander, I request that you do," Erza said. "Be frank. You are my senior. Your perspective and your experience will be valuable to me. You brought this up- so say your peace."
"I was… perplexed by our captain-commander's choice," Byakuya said. "Yet, I can see his rationale. You requested that I speak honestly, and so I will. You were not chosen for your experience."
"Obviously."
"Nor for your exceptional skill at leading people."
"I am inexperienced," Erza admitted.
"Two possibilities have occurred to me, neither excluding the other. I had decided to keep these to myself."
"Don't."
Byakuya nodded. "Very well. Firstly, venerable Yamamoto may be challenging you, not only in your capacity as a warrior and a leader, but your newfound allegiance to an establishment you've decried as wicked and vile."
"And secondly?"
"That it is a political choice. Your proclamations made quite a ripple amongst Gotei nobility. Venerable Yamamoto may have more power than ever before, but he is still dependent on the support of the wealthy noblemen under his protection. It might be politically convenient for him to have a seditious element assigned away from the center of power."
"A 'seditious element'?" said Erza, frowning.
"Is that not true?" said Byakuya, surprisingly blunt. "I recall you lambasting the entire system of the Gotei- the Gotei Thirteen, whose values I have dedicated my life to upholding- as corrupt, evil and wrong."
"I wouldn't say 'evil'," said Erza, staring back at him sternly. It was true, she had delivered some very harsh words toward the establishment Byakuya served, and it was no wonder he had taken offense to it. "No, not 'evil', but definitely corrupt and definitely wrong."
"Then, are you not a seditious element?"
"I suppose I am," Erza said with a sigh. "No, I can't fault that logic."
Byakuya nodded. "Then, that may well be a reason you were chosen."
"Do you resent it?" Erza asked, deciding to be blunt. "Being made to serve somebody who was a traitor to the things you stand for? Who doesn't believe as you believe?"
"In asking that, you misunderstand my character, and the very nature of the Gotei," Byakuya said reservedly.
"What is that, then?"
"How I feel is irrelevant," he said simply. "My personal misgivings are of no consequence. I may well raise any concerns I have with the captain-commander- although I have not done so- but ultimately his choice is final. I volunteered for this mission and in doing so I accepted your command. Venerable Yamamoto's wisdom and authority outweighs my own. That is all that needs to be."
"And what if Yamamoto was wrong?"
Byakuya simply looked at her.
"I insist," Erza said. "What if your leader was wrong? What if I made a mistake, or Yamamoto himself?"
"…Everyone is fallible," Byakuya said after a pause. "Anyone can err. I know this better than anyone. That is still beside the point. As noblemen, the Kuchiki clan bow to Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryuusai, because he is the best fit for leadership. Because for every mistake he would make, I might make ten, or a hundred, or a thousand. That is the nature of authority: to submit to those wiser, even placing your lives in their hands, because their wisdom and experience trumps yours. Even if they might make a mistake that gets you killed."
"…I see," Erza said.
It was a mentality not unfamiliar to anyone within the Gotei. As a military organization, it had always been hierarchical and authoritative, but somehow, she felt she understood Byakuya's world view a little better. It repulsed her, the idea of simply obeying and letting somebody else think for her, but she understood it. Somewhat.
"That is why," Byakuya continued, "you must never hesitate. All of our lives are yours to spend in the Gotei's name, and you must not be afraid to do so."
"I don't want to spend anyone's lives," Erza said seriously.
"Nobody does. How many men do you believe I have sent to their deaths?"
"I don't know. How many?"
"Six hundred and fourty-three," Byakuya said. "All of their names are inscribed in our records. We are captains. We send people to die as part of our job. Most of the time that is not the expectation or the aim, but it is an inevitability. You, too, will have to do this. You cannot allow yourself to let personal attachment stop you from doing what must be done. Not as a commander."
"I am a person, not a machine."
"A false dichotomy," Byakuya said dismissively. "You are not asked to give up all emotion. But to keep a clear mind, and to be a worthy leader, you must not be too attached. This, I would not bring up, except this expedition is full of people you consider… comrades. Friends. It compromises your ability to think clearly."
"No punches pulled, huh?" Erza muttered.
"Have I said too much, commander?" Byakuya said curtly. "I would remind you that my opinion was requested, not offered."
"No," Erza said thoughtfully. "No, it's been… enlightening. I'm still new to command. I was a vice-captain, but…"
"The weight of responsibility is, to your surprise, far greater than you first assumed."
"Yes," Erza said with a nod, and realized with surprise that for the first time, she could relate to a man so cold and so stoic as Kuchiki Byakuya. "Yes, it was. I was a vice-captain. It gave me some idea. The paperwork, the logistics, the inter-division cooperation and politics, even leading soldiers into battle…"
"It takes a certain kind of person to lead. I was groomed for it, but not everyone can be. The finest of warriors could fail. Ultimately, it means your decisions matter, in a very practical sense. That is the nature of authority and the nature of leadership. A division depends on you, commander, as does this taskforce."
"Did you ever feel the same?" Erza asked, realizing she was not likely to get much of an answer; Byakuya was not much of a talk-about-your-feelings kind of person.
"You would be surprised," he said after some deliberation, "to learn that no amount of grooming can truly prepare a man for what it really means. Only experience will truly show the extent of one's abilities."
"Easy to say for the flawless head of the Kuchiki."
Byakuya paused, and gave her a strange look.
"…Do your very best and work harder than you ever have. That is as simple an answer as can be given, because there are no shortcuts. Eventually, you will fail. Eventually, you will make a mistake and it will cost people their lives- lives that did not need to be lost, but were. It is as good as etched in stone."
"If I don't believe that?"
"The world does not care what you believe," Byakuya said simply. "What matters is how you carry yourself after failure."
Erza paused, and thought. His words echoed worries she had carried since the start of the mission- hell, since she had first taken office- and it had done little to alleviate them.
"Enough philosophy for now, I think," she said, unwilling to go further. "Again?"
"Again," Byakuya agreed, and took a stance.
Within moments, they once again clashed, evenly matched, neither yielding or backing down.
Urahara's back yard had become quite a workshop, bright formulae written all across the air in kido script, a well-lit contrast to the shopkeeper's gloomy research room. Momo had come back eager to learn, and she hadn't been disappointed. When the muscular kidou expert wasn't helping her refine her basics, they went through kidou theory; spells, functions, the coding that went into it and how it worked. It was like drinking from a rich wellspring of knowledge, and Momo absorbed it like a sponge. She had found herself wishing she could dedicate to this fully, that she didn't have to mind her actual duties, and had had to remind herself that Erza depended on her. Even so, her free time was her own, and she spent it in Tessai's company.
"I was wondering," he said, dismissing the written kido scripts all around them with a wave of his hand. "You mentioned you had made some rather powerful offensive spells of your own, using this method of yours?"
"Oh, yes," Momo said. She stood opposite of him, a lump in her stomach. She was proud of them, and wanted to explain it to him- but she also feared his criticisms a little, even if they were not harsh.
"How many?"
"A few," Momo said vaguely, "but, er, the best ones are... I call them Kirin, and Suzaku."
"Fine names. Go on."
"They're on par with a perfectly executed spell around Hadou ninety or so," Momo said. "Kirin summons a creature made of lightning. It's given a very simple mind- when manifested, it will relentlessly pursue whatever I point at with enormous speed. It's lightning-based, so that shouldn't be a surprise."
"And Suzaku?"
"It takes the shape of a bird of fire. It's not quite as fast as Kirin, but it's a lot more explosive."
"Essentially, highly powerful spells capable of seeking out their target."
Momo nodded. "They're easier to execute than a normal kidou spell, which is handy, but they're an extreme drain. I'd have to be desperate to use either one more than once in a battle- frankly, I don't think it would be possible, not without refining them for many years. The most essential difference is that they've got minds of their own once formed, artificial intelligence of a kind."
"As I thought, it is something quite beyond the normal orthodoxy of kidou," Tessai said thoughtfully. "Would you mind lining the formula for both?"
"Certainly," said Momo, and obediently she waved her hands about, writing it out rapidly in the air, one above the other in distinct colours to make sure none was mistaken for the other. It took several minutes, and Tessai studied it carefully in silence for a good few minutes more.
"It is as you say," he said, adjusting his spectacles. "Your method is indeed easier to execute. Of particular interest is the complex engineering of these spells; summoning at this level is quite unheard of in traditional kidou. A spell that is able to act independently and with purpose without needing guidance from its caster is quite something."
Momo's cheeks flushed with the praise.
"And by what I felt recently in your battle, it has to be quite as offensively potent as the formula suggests. In terms of accomplishing a desired effect on your enemies, I think I would prefer this over normal kido."
"Thank you," Momo said, her chest swelling.
"However," said Tessai, "I think you are quite lucky to be alive."
"I'm sorry?" Momo said, blinking.
"How many times have you used these in a real-life combat situation?"
"Twice," Momo said. "It worked both times. No problem."
She felt a little offended; luck hadn't been part of it either time.
"Looking at the formula," said Tessai dispassionately. "It is clear to me that the power you harness is raw and volatile."
"That's part of the idea."
"Is it also part of the idea to risk your life each time you cast it?"
"What do you mean?" Momo said confusedly.
"If you observe this section," Tessai said, highlighting a core part of the formula for the Kirin, "it channels raw energy into a mould of your making, yes?"
"Of course."
"Each time you do so, its energies grind against yours. What do you think would happen if the energies went out of control?"
"They would fizzle out," Momo said, shifting uncomfortably. "That's what kido does if it fails- unless you're incompetent."
"They could," Tessai said with a nod, "or they might integrate with your reiatsu."
"That's not possible."
"Isn't it? Your method includes channelling raw energy right into the body. What is to stop it from achieving symbiosis with your energies?"
"How would that even happen?"
"It's not always likely, especially with good control. Were you under considerable stress when you used the spells? Were you well rested?"
"…No," Momo admitted.
"Which further increases the risk. What do you think would happen if such raw energies channeled completely into your being?"
"I… I'm not sure."
"It's not taught much in kidou," Tessai explained, "since the standard method of chanting is built around drawing upon power externally, fueled by your will and power- at your command, but not drawn from your very body. But if energies of that quantity entered your body without exiting… well, at best nothing would happen. More likely, at the least you'd wind up overcharging your very being and purging all of your spiritual power. There would also be a risk of, well, exploding. Or turning into ash as your power imploded on itself."
"…Oh," said Momo quietly, quite taken aback. She had never imagined, for a second, that her spells were this dangerous. There was inherent danger, of course, as there was to any kidou- as there was to any martial craft. A spell could burn the caster, just as someone could cut oneself on a blade if it wasn't handled properly. But this?
"You've created a whole new model of spellcraft," Tessai explained, "which is indeed more easily used than standard kidou. But, consider that the orthodoxy of the kidou corps, as stiff and retrictive as it may seem, has become what it is for a reason. For centuries, many a skilled practitioner hammered out the safest, most effective ways of using it."
"…Was it all a big mistake?" Momo said, a big lump in her stomach. All her hard work, and for what?
"A mistake?" Tessai shook his head. "Not at all. As I said, the old method is restrictive. Less efficient. But, tell me, for how many years have you worked to perfect this?"
"Decades," Momo mumbled. "Over twenty years."
"A solid foundation. However, twenty years of study by one mind, however brilliant, will only take you so far."
"Then, what should I do? Give up?"
"It confuses me that you continue to make the most pessimistic interpretation possible of my words. You are a pioneer. You will not perfect this art, but your successors might."
"My… successors?" Momo said. She hadn't even considered teaching this.
"Surely you would not craft such a marvel without sharing it?"
"No, that… makes sense," Momo said with a nod.
"Take your time to master the art as well as you can. As it stands, I would not use any of these truly powerful spells unless the need was very dire. Oh, and… I cannot speak to what the new central forty-six will be like, but I doubt they will be lenient on such radical ideas. Keep it to yourself until you've learned to control it well. After that… well, if the Gotei still stands, you will change the way kidou is viewed forever."
Momo's heart swelled with pride, overwhelming her insecurity, her fears, and her caution.
"I, er… I've used it before, in front of others," she murmured.
"It would take an expert to spot the differences," Tessai said dismissively. "Use your normal array of spells conservatively, and you should do well enough."
"Then, I'll do my best," Momo said firmly. "I'll learn it inside and out, and I'll change kidou as a whole. For the better."
"A noble goal," Tessai agreed, "but be aware that it is a path fraught with adversity and failure."
"When you get knocked down twice, you get up three times," said Momo.
"You have the right spirit, then."
Lanza's heart had started beating a little more quickly when a messenger informed him Lord Aizen wished to see him. Part of him wondered fearfully if his lord had changed his mind, that he was no longer welcome in the consejo, but thinking about it, Lord Aizen had mentioned certain duties specific to its members, hadn't he? It had to be something like that.
So it was that he found himself in Lord Aizen's workplace office, a neat, professional-looking place, standing with his back straight, facing his liege lord.
"Ah, Lanza," said Lord Aizen warmly, as if greeting a friend, "just in time."
"At your service, lord," Lanza said with a bow.
"As I am sure we both have quite a bit to do, I will get to the point."
"As my lord wishes."
Aizen stood up and walked toward Lanza, standing a few feet away from him.
"Tell me, my septimo, what skills are you possessed of?"
"I-" Lanza said, pausing briefly, but deciding he would not be dumbstruck, he quickly said, "I am practiced with a blade, although the art is still new to me. I am physically powerful, and my release is-"
"Yes, yes," Lord Aizen said dismissively, "but I need to know if you are capable of a much more useful skill."
"Lord?"
"Subtlety," Lord Aizen said simply. "Tell me, Lanza, if I ordered you to do something quietly and discreetly, would you be able to restrain yourself, obey my orders to the letter, and focus on your mission above all?"
"Yes, lord!" Lanza said firmly.
"I trust both Neliel and Halibel," Lord Aizen explained, "but I need somebody with an aptitude for a less direct approach to problem solving. I hope that somebody is you."
"What would you have me do, lord?" said Lanza eagerly.
"Right now, our enemies are fortifying their positions in Karakura Town in considerable number," Lord Aizen explained. "I know which officers, but I need more information. I want to know where they hide out. I want to know what reinforcements they have. I want to know if they have set up an information central. In short, I need intelligence on these shinigami, as much as possible. I believe you understand why I would not send Neliel, Halibel, or even Ulquiorra on such a mission?"
"Their power is awe-inspiring," Lanza murmured, "but they're not well suited to subterfuge."
"Exactly," Lord Aizen said, sounding pleased. "Are you?"
"You learn how to creep and crawl out in the wastes," said Lanza, and his face hardened as he recalled the cruelties of that place, "how to hide yourself. I am no Vasto Lorde. If I focus, hiding my power reserves should not be that difficult."
"Good," Lord Aizen said, "and do you believe your servants could do the same?"
"If I asked, lord."
"You would stake your word on that?"
"My life, lord," Lanza said firmly.
Lord Aizen nodded approvingly.
"Then, by the beginning of the next night cycle in Karakura, you and your fracciones will depart to gather what information you can. You will enter well outside the city to avoid detection, and you will move slowly for the same reason. Gather what you can. I want to learn the nature of the shinigami's mission there."
"As you command, so shall it be done," Lanza said with conviction.
"Go get some sleep," Lord Aizen advised. "I want you at your best."
"Just one thing, lord?"
"Yes?"
"If we are found?"
"You are to avoid conflict at all costs," Aizen said strictly. "I have no intention of wasting talent. If you are found and attacked, you will escape."
"If that is not possible?"
"I will see to it that you have backup," said Lord Aizen. "Neliel would be suitable, I believe."
Lanza nodded.
"Fight if you must, but only if you must. Do not let yourself be taken alive. Are my orders clear?"
"Yes, Lord Aizen!" Lanza said firmly.
"Then, go, and await the fall of night. I expect good things from you, Lanza. Do not disappoint me."
"I will not, lord."
Lanza said the words, and meant them. As he walked out of the office, his chest pounded; he felt a sense of pride he'd never dreamed of before. Lord Aizen had entrusted him with this task- him, and nobody else, because Lord Aizen valued his skills. Come nightfall, he would show his true worth.
Well that's this chapter everyone. I hope that you all enjoyed it. The next chapter however is going to be a big one. You wont want to miss this one I can promise you that for sure.
Normally id like to go more in depth on some of the things that have happened in this chapter...but I'm afraid I'll end up saying too much, so for now ill bite my tongue and bid my adieu.
I'm eager to hear what you'll have to say for this chapter and the next, so please tell me your thoughts in a review. They really mean a lot to us and let us know what we're doing right and what we can improve on.
Till next time!