This is a chapter ive been wanting to get to for quite sometime. I cant go into detail why just yet, but I'm excited. I really, REALLY want your thoughts on this one, so PLEASE, leave 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.
Hueco Mundo's wastes stretched all around him for as far as he could see. At his feet, dead and broken human bodies piled up, staining his white clothes.
Lanza sat bolt upright, breathing heavily like he'd just been underwater for too long. Sweat trailed down his back, and the sheets he'd been lying on were sticky and damp from it. He leaned forward, keeping himself upright, just barely. His palms planted firmly on the bed, and he felt dizzy and nauseated.
"Lord Valiente?"
It was the sleepy voice of Loly, who had gone to bed with him. She had slept beside him ever since they found uneasy rest in the burrows they made in the wastelands, and that habit had not changed. Seeing the haunted look on his face, she snapped awake.
"Lord Valiente, are you alright?" she insisted.
"It- it's nothing," he lied, swallowing down a slight urge to retch.
"No, it isn't," she said firmly. "Not when you look like that, it isn't nothing."
"I…" he muttered. "I dreamed about… it was just a nightmare, Loly," he said, unwilling to show such weakness. Hollow culture affected them all, as much as he resented it, and a leader ought never to appear less than powerful.
"What was it about?" she insisted.
"Just… back then," he said vaguely, "back in the days when I… was just a beast. I remember the humans I killed and ate. It… I can't remember their faces, but their eyes still haunt me. They look at me, wondering what they did to deserve it."
Loly, who had a much more pragmatic approach to hollow life, knew to tread carefully. She too had killed and eaten people in her time, although it was a long time ago; most hollows strong enough would feed only on other hollows, as they made a much stronger meal than a single, paltry human would. It was a natural process. Her lord's rules were acceptable, but she had never quite understood them. What she knew to be true was that he felt differently, that he viewed this normal experience as abnormal and horrifying to look back at, and that it caused him real pain to recall. It was a pain of the mind, insidious and distracting for somebody of his position, and as his oldest follower, it was up to her to do something about it.
"It wasn't all bad," she said reassuringly, rubbing her hand over his arm, shooting him a smile. "You saved me. You saved Menoly. You gave us safety."
Slowly, Lanza nodded. That, he had. Once, he had been a savage monster, the same as any hollow, consumed by hunger. But, as his cunning and strength had let him rise, a part of his humanity had refused to die, refused to yield to the unrelenting savagery of their world. He had sought peace, but he had never truly found it. Not until now.
"I just… they are so many," he murmured, "and they're all…"
"It's not your fault," Loly said, trying her best to use his own manner of reason, "you didn't choose that. Nobody did. It just… happens."
Slowly, he nodded again, feeling a little reassured.
"I helped you, didn't I? You, Menoly, Findor, Ggio… I've kept you all safe, haven't I?"
"You have!" Loly said.
"I just… sometimes I wish I could forget."
"Then, why don't you?"
"I can't," he said, shaking his head.
"Those people are dead already. You can't help them," she said bluntly, "but you can help us. Look forward instead of backward."
He nodded a third time, with a bit more confidence.
"Remember back then," said Loly, eager to pile on the encouragement, "back when we first met? That wasn't bad at all."
"You… gave me this name," he said slowly. "Yes, of course I remember it. I think that… that was the time when I started to come to my senses."
He had been full, nurturing a belly stuffed with the flesh of a freshly killed hollow, which was why he hadn't torn the little hollow to pieces. She had dared speak to him, and for the first time in ages, he had spoken actual words. It had amused him at the time, and he had let her stay. She had found safety in his presence, and he had found entertainment, and before long, attachment. Purpose. It was Loly who had first made him remember that there was more to this life than killing, more than death, savagery, and cruelty.
"I did," she said, "so remember that when you have a nightmare the next time. You've got us. You've got people depending on you."
A sense of comfort ran through him as she spoke the words, and gently, he squeezed her hand.
"Of course," he said. "I just hope you'll be safe."
"Rest," she said softly. "In a few hours, we've got to leave, remember? It wouldn't do to not be at our best when Lord Aizen sends us out, right?"
"Yes," he said, feeling an even stronger sense of comfort at the thought. His master depended on him, had trusted him to do something nobody else could. He'd be at his best, for him and for his fracciones. Slowly, he lay back on the damp sheets, staring up at the ceiling. Loly lay down next to him, draping an arm over him. He began to feel at ease, her presence reassuring, intimate and warm. Despite his expectations, Lanza soon fell asleep again.
Erza had paused her routine of patrolling the city to check up on Nozomi, whose continued work was, after all, of considerable interest to the Gotei, even if Erza herself understood it poorly. More importantly, she trusted Nozomi further than she could throw her, which could not be said for Urahara Kisuke.
As she entered the shop, it didn't take long for an excitable Nozomi to burst out from the back, a grin on her face. Strangely enough, there were stains of soot on her face and hands, and if her uniform hadn't been black to begin with, Erza guessed it would have been well and properly stained by now.
"Erza!" the artificial shinigami cried out. "You're just in time."
"In time for what?" Erza said perplexedly. "Good grief, what have you been up to? Chimney diving?"
"Come on. Right this way," Nozomi said, eagerly urging Erza to follow her to the back. Although Erza had come here to collect a report or an update of sorts, she decided to humor the woman. Nozomi was not particularly impressionable or excitable normally, so whatever had her worked up had to be good.
Erza was led inside a room near Urahara's lab. Unlike the gloomy, messy, paper-filled room, this one was brightly lit, and filled with more practical instruments; some she recognized as rivets, screws, screwdrivers, and such, whereas others were entirely alien to her. Some of the equipment were infused with runes, and even Erza recognized the look of a kido-infused instrument.
"Look here," Nozomi said excitably, and pulled a cloth away from the main table in the room. Although most of the table was filled with tools and little bits, space had been made here; evidently something had been worked on here, and recently.
As Nozomi pulled the cloth away, Erza furrowed her brows and took a closer look. The science specialist held up the object eagerly, almost pushing it into Erza's face.
"…Huh," Erza said, legitimately impressed.
It was a helmet. Brightly polished, gleaming in the light, it had the color of iron made to shine like silver. It was a simple, practical design; a bowl of metal to protect the skull, lined with leather, a nose guard, and two large, flat plates running down to protect the cheeks. Runes adorned the rim, the nose guard and cheek guard. Some of them Erza vaguely recognized as kidou-based, whereas others were entirely unfamiliar to her.
"Do you like it?" Nozomi said.
"It's brilliant," Erza muttered, staring as if in a trance. The craftsmanship was excellent, and she suspected it was more than just a piece of well-made metal. She had never employed a helmet before, but she had always had a soft spot for good armour in all its forms.
"Try it on!" Nozomi urged her.
Hesitantly at first, Erza reached out to touch it. Then, feeling the metal under her hand, warm to the touch, she took it in both hands, taking a few seconds to appreciate its form. Then, she put the helmet on her head. It fit like a glove.
"Was this for me?" she asked.
"Yes!" Nozomi said, "It's good, right? It works?"
"It fits perfectly," Erza said, "did you…?"
Nozomi, she knew, was no blacksmith.
"It was Kisuke's idea, actually," Nozomi said brightly, and Erza noticed she had referred to him by his first name. "He had the helmet made-"
"-by an armourer, and then made modifications of his own, right?"
"How did you- oh, right. It was the same with your armor, right?"
"Yes," Erza said with a nod. "I'm guessing this can do something special?"
"It's a bit experimental," Nozomi explained, "but the basic principle is that it'll offer added protection against hollow energies. Like a cero. Also, it's good to have your head covered. It's got the same protections as your armor, too. Kisuke modified it, and I provided the runes. We worked on it all night- it only just cooled down. Turns out infusing kidou into metal was more… explosive than I expected."
"I can tell," Erza said, looking at Nozomi's soot-encrusted face. "Is there a reason for this? Does it come with a surveillance camera?"
"We did it because it was fun," Nozomi said, her enthusiasm a bit blunted. "We came up with an idea that worked, put our minds to it, and made something. It was incredible. You'll have great use of it."
"I don't doubt it," Erza said, taking the helmet off and placing it on the table, keeping her hands on it. "I suppose I just… tend to be a bit suspicious of anything he makes. He always has a motive for anything he does."
"So do you," Nozomi scoffed. "So does everyone. Nobody does anything without a reason."
"I didn't mean it like that," Erza objected.
"Well… then, what did you mean?" Nozomi said, frowning, "Actually, why is it you don't trust him? I've seen the way you look at him. You're colder to him than you are to the others."
"It's, um…" Erza said, trying to think of a way to vocalize this. How could she put it?
"It's just…." Nozomi muttered, her enthusiasm fully gone, "he and I stayed up all night making this, together, just for you. He made your armour. He's been nothing but helpful, and I heard he was the same when you were in exile. So, why are you like this?"
Erza sighed. "He's a shady guy, all right?"
"Yoruichi's got a shady past too, and you're friendly with her."
Erza groaned inwardly. That was entirely true. And she abhorred dishonesty, too. She could wave it off, she supposed, but she had offended Nozomi- offended a friend- and making that into nothing felt wrong.
"It's true," she said, agonizing over the words, "he was helpful. He always has been. But it's always been at a price. He doesn't do charity- well, sometimes, but that's rare."
"Did he extort you, then?"
"…No," Erza muttered. "No, I can't say he did."
"Then, he asked you to pay for the help you got. Was that unfair?"
"No. I mean, you don't understand…" Erza said, trying to figure out what to say, what to make of this.
"I agree. I don't understand."
"Look," Erza said, taking a deep breath, "he reminds me of Aizen, okay?"
She realized it was true only as she spoke the words.
"Aizen was a lot like him," she continued. "Back when I first met him, Aizen was charming, understanding, and kind. He seemed so trustworthy. He was the picture of righteousness, the kindest, most likeable man I had ever met up till that point."
Nozomi's eyes widened. Erza rarely spoke of the past, and conflicted as she was, she could not help but listen.
"Twice in my life- in my existence- I've been betrayed by somebody I fully trusted," Erza continued, "and just as I'm thrown out, just as Aizen shows his true colours, along comes Urahara Kisuke. All I know about him then, twenty years ago, is that he's an exile who escaped a death sentence for heretical, unnatural experiments. Sure, I know now that was Aizen, but I couldn't be sure of anything or anyone then. So, there's Urahara Kisuke, and sure, he wears his deviousness on his sleeve, but that doesn't make it better. I had just been used and thrown aside by a psychopath, and then there's another man who is shady by his own admission and does nothing to seem anything but shady. Every time I interact with him, there's something behind it. A favour, or money, some kind of debt is always involved. Did he help me? Yes, he did. He's never double crossed me, either. But, benevolent or not, he uses people for his own ends, Nozomi, and he always has. I can't stand it. He's playing a game of his own, always watching our every move, always getting something out of it, always hiding behind that smug grin of his. He's our ally against Aizen, but…"
Nozomi shook her head.
"You're being really unfair right now," she said quietly. "Erza, I'm your friend, and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but you're wrong. You're letting your past get in the way. Kisuke's a good man."
"I've known him over twenty years," Erza bit back. "You've known him what, two days?"
"You're not being objective," Nozomi said, shaking her head. "You admitted he's been nothing but helpful, that he's never conned you-"
"That I know of," Erza scoffed.
"Never conned you," Nozomi continued sharply, "and you're still here telling me he can't be trusted."
"I trust him to do what's good for him," Erza said irritably, "and that's not the same as what's good for us."
Nozomi sighed, and shook her head.
"You know, I was really happy about this," she said solemnly, "about making this for you, alongside Kisuke. I thought you'd appreciate it."
"I do," Erza protested, "It's just that…"
She trailed off.
"I think I've got to go work," said Nozomi. "I've got reports to write, and such."
Her voice was neutral, well controlled and dispassionate, and in a way it was worse than if she had screamed at Erza. With a few quick strides, she walked out of the room.
"Nozomi, wait!" Erza begged.
The science officer stopped briefly in the doorway. "You're wrong about him, you know. You'll see."
With that, she walked away, leaving an uncertain Erza staring as she left. She should say something, she knew that, but she didn't know what. She knew she had screwed up somewhere, but she wasn't sure where. Should she go after her? Or should she let her be for now? Right now, Erza herself wouldn't be able to argue well. Agonizing over the choice for a minute, she finally decided to let things lie.
She turned back to the table, where the well-polished helmet lay. She gently picked it up, looking at its front, holding it up with both hands. It really was beautiful work. She sighed, and slowly put it on again. The least she could do was show some appreciation for the craftsmanship. It fit so well, and… well, she could not bear insulting Nozomi further by leaving it behind. Slowly, nurturing a sense of shame she did not know what to do with, or where it even really came from, she walked out of the shop. The science report, it seemed, would have to wait a little.
Ichigo came home that evening weary and worn, wanting only to sit down and relax. He knew his mother was getting suspicious of his late nights, and he only hoped she chalked it up to normal teenage stuff- girls, going out fighting, loitering, that sort of thing.
He still had a hard time looking her in the eye. But, it wasn't as if the visored's training had had no effect- although he was still in the early stages, having trained for but a few days, his nightmares had… not gone away- he still slept uneasily- but they were blurry. Different. Subdued, only vaguely horrifying. The elaborate scenario of him killing his parents after turning hollow hadn't yet returned, and although he woke up sweaty and unable to go back to sleep, things had changed. The focus, the mindfulness he had been forced to obtain, it was already starting to show off. As harsh as his tutors were, and as shifty as Urahara was, Ichigo had to admit that the problem seemed to be solvable after all.
It wasn't until he'd walked into the living room and slumped down in a couch that he noticed Orihime sitting across him in a comfortable chair, cross-legged.
He looked at her, a bit too tired to talk right away. After a long pause, he said, "What are you doing here?"
It was blunt, he knew, but he was well past civility at this point.
"Hi to you too, Ichigo," she said brightly. "Gosh, you look terrible."
"Thanks," he muttered.
"Anyway, I'm staying the night. Erza is out a lot these days, so I figured I'd stay the night here."
Wearily, he nodded.
"Where have you been, anyway?" she asked.
Ichigo took a breath. Nobody knew, he realized. The very nature of his problem had traumatized him badly, and he had reflexively kept it to himself, not wanting to make his problem somebody else's- well, with the exception of the people who could actually help him. He hadn't told his mom, or his dad. He hadn't told Erza, and she would probably want to know. He hadn't told any of his friends. Reflecting on this, he thought that he probably should have, that something about keeping all of this from them was… wrong, somehow. It was important. It was like, oh, having cancer and telling nobody you were doing chemo.
But as Orihime looked at him, sweet and innocent of the hell he'd been going through, he found he didn't want to. He was being stubborn, but all the same he felt it was his struggle to deal with. No need to trouble anybody else about it, right?
"I, er, um…" he muttered, "I mean, I've been… out."
It was lame. Really, really lame. He made a horrible liar, which was why he hadn't lied- although as an explanation it was wholly insufficient.
"You've been out every night for a while now," Orihime replied.
"Yeah, well, you know how it is…." Ichigo said vaguely, shrugging.
"I don't, actually," said Orihime.
"Well…"
Shit. What would he say? Actually, why not tell her? But again, that stubborn urge came back.
"It's okay," Orihime said with a smile. "You don't have to tell me. I just want to know if you're okay."
"I'm… not," Ichigo said, feeling oddly relieved to admit even that little, "but I'm fixing it. I'm gonna be okay. It's just going to, um… take time."
"If you say so," Orihime said with a nod. "You know, you really do look terrible. Want me to go make you some tea?"
"Would you?" Ichigo said gratefully, feeling that a simple cup of hot tea would do a lot for him now. His limbs were like cement, so had the training exhausted him, and he was glad to be offered it.
"Sure," said Orihime. She went out into the kitchen, and Ichigo leaned back. A second later, Orihime was poking his shoulder, and Ichigo sat bolt upright. She held a mug of warm tea in her hand, and Ichigo realized he had fallen asleep for a few minutes.
"You really are tired, huh?" she said.
He nodded, and slowly extended a hand to take the mug. She handed it to him, and he brought it to his nose to smell it. Somehow, it seemed heavenly.
"You didn't put anything funny in it, right?" he muttered.
"Just some cinnamon and honey," she reassured him.
It was not the best fit for green tea, but by what he had come to expect from her, it was extremely normal. Careful not to burn himself, he took a sip, finding it to be pleasantly warm. As it went down his gullet, he felt a great sense of joy, the kind that only a warm beverage after a hard day's work could bring.
"Thank you," he said simply, and smiled at her.
Orihime grinned.
"You look so funny when you aren't frowning," she said cheerily, and sat down opposite to him in the couch.
"I don't frown… all the time," Ichigo said.
"Most of the time," said Orihime. "More lately, actually."
"Well…" he muttered, hiding behind another sip of the tea.
"Ichigo," said Orhime frankly, "I know something is up with you. I knew since back then, last time I found you in the kitchen."
After his nightmare. After he'd thrown up and found it impossible to fall asleep, before Erza had come back. She'd been there for him, and he appreciated it in a way he'd never thought he would.
"Y-yeah…" he said, still not quite willing to admit to it. Reaching out, explaining it to someone… would it be so bad?
"I know something's wrong," she said, "and I know if it was really bad, you wouldn't be so stupid you'd keep it all to yourself. Your mother wouldn't, and Erza wouldn't. So, whatever it is… I'm not going to prod. It's for you to keep. I'm going to be here if you need me, but that's it."
Ichigo took another deep sip. The taste of honey really dominated the brew, but it still felt… just right.
"I…" he said, taking a deep breath. Orihime looked him in the eye.
"I've got a hollow in my head."
The words came out, quickly and without his tone changing at all, entirely inappropriate for a statement as dramatic as that.
Orihime blinked. "A-"
"A hollow. In my head," he repeated. "I don't know how it works, but it's been there since birth, and now it's trying to eat my… everything. My mind. My body."
Relief of a kind he'd never guessed at washed over him as he said the words. Just being able to tell somebody, to get it out in the open, outside the confines of his thoughts, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"A… hollow," Orihime said slowly, as if trying to process it.
"It's real," Ichigo started. "I swear, I'm not joking around-"
"I believe you," she said quickly. "I mean, Ichigo, it's me."
She smiled at him, and Ichigo remembered just whom he was dealing with. He'd have to go crazy indeed to breach her suspension of disbelief. Slowly he smiled back, and despite himself, he chuckled. Orihime laughed with him.
"So," she said, as the laughs died down, "you said you were going to be okay?"
"I'm getting help," Ichigo said reassuringly. "It was a close call, but… I'm learning to control my mind properly, and when I can do that, it's got nowhere to run."
"That's good!" Orihime said, nodding encouragingly, "Um… how does that work?"
"Urahara set me up," Ichigo said evasively. "I've got to go train after school every day, but… hey, at least I don't turn into a soul-eating monster, right?"
It was a lame joke, but Orihime smiled all the same. Perhaps sensing his unwillingness to comment on the details, she said, "Who else knows?"
"I… actually haven't told anyone else," he muttered. "Aside from Urahara and his people, it's just you."
"You haven't told your mom and dad?" Orihime said, surprised. "Ichigo, I- if I were them, I'd want to know!"
She seemed uncharacteristically invested, but she wasn't wrong. But this much, Ichigo couldn't explain. He couldn't bring himself to tell her about the dreams, about the sensation of murdering his mother and sinking his teeth into her flesh, about bathing in their blood…
"Look," he said urgently, leaning forward and putting the tea cup down, "you can't tell anyone, all right? I'm handling it. I'm gonna be fine. I'm just…"
"It's your parents, Ichigo," she said accusatorily. "If you got sick, would you keep that from them too?"
"I… I know," Ichigo said, bereft of a real defense. "It's just…"
He paused, desperate to make her understand. But, he couldn't. Not without telling her, and sharing that… no, he'd only ever told Urahara, and that was because he'd had to.
"Look, I can't explain," he said urgently, "but please, please, don't tell anyone, okay? I'm… not ready yet."
"Of course," she said with a nod. "I told you, I'm not going to prod. But if I were you, I'd tell them."
"I will! Eventually," Ichigo said. "It's just… I can't… I mean, nobody understands! Nobody can understand, except those visored freaks, and they're assholes!"
He'd started shouting, he realized, and abruptly he silenced himself. He'd said more than he meant to.
"Visored?" said Orihime.
"It's these… people who know how to deal with it. Experts at, uh, mental discipline."
It wasn't lying, but it wasn't being honest either.
"The ones Urahara set you up with?"
Silently, he nodded.
"Well… okay, then," said Orihime. "You can trust me. I won't tell a soul. But, eventually…"
"I'll tell them," Ichigo reassured her, "I swear."
"Good," she said, and suddenly she seemed as chipper as ever. "More tea?"
"Uh," he said, a little stunned, "um. Yes, please."
She was a bizarre girl. But, somehow, even having said so much more than he'd meant to, he felt… secure. If it was her, it'd be all right. He sighed, and leaned back. What a right mess his life had become…
Grimmjow had, at long last, gotten out of his room. The toxicity of staying in there, stewing in his rage, his hate, and the frustration over his useless subordinates… even he could feel that was unhealthy. So, he had gone out, and taken a long walk until he had come outside of the grand palace of Las Noches. He sat on a rooftop overlooking the infinite desert of Hueco Mundo, legs dangling over the edge. The wastes, the same uniform color of light grey as ever, broken up only by the occasional withered husk of a tree, gave him some solace. It was there that he had found his true self. It was there that he had become Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. It was there that he had learned what it meant to be a hollow. It had made him everything he was.
And look how well that worked out, huh? An accusatory, malicious voice said inside him. Grimmjow clenched a fist.
This was not the time for more self-pity or impotent rage. The walk had been long, and it had given him time to think. The realization he had come to was, when it came down to it, very simple.
Grimmjow was not ready to die.
And since he was not ready to die, that meant moving forward, no matter what, until he finally found an obstacle he couldn't conquer and was killed and eaten, as the cycle of hollow-hood demanded.
The problem was just how he'd move forward. He hated Aizen, with a new and impassioned sense of loathing he'd never had before. Yes, before he had lost his limb, Aizen has simply been the final obstacle, a smug warlord like any other, but now… now, Grimmjow delighted in the idea of bringing harm to him.
But, even with his arm, even at his best, the wretched shinigami was out of his league. It pained him to admit it, even to himself, even in his thoughts, but it was true. This presented Grimmjow with a conundrum. He had to think.
Contrary to popular opinion, Grimmjow wasn't stupid. It was just that his intelligence mostly manifested as a base cunning, as a result of a life where problems were seldom more complex than 'how do I best rip out this hollow's guts' or 'how do I set up an ambush to backstab a stronger enemy'. In the narrow field of applied violence, Grimmjow was nearly a savant. He might be a brute, but he was good at it; a body didn't climb up to the ranks of espada if a body was just dumb muscle.
But, now he was faced with a problem that violence couldn't solve. He wanted- needed- to get back at Aizen, to show the smug bastard just what he thought of his grandiose plans, his hypocrisies, his lies and his impure, un-hollow-like ways.
Furrowing his brows and staring into the distance, Grimmjow thought of the days when his cunning had been as great an asset as his strength. Being in the middle of the chain had been far more challenging, in many ways, than being on top. It had made him use his mind as much as his claws and teeth. He had done it once, so there was no reason he couldn't do it now.
Think. Think. He needed to show Aizen what for, but he couldn't think like a proper hollow. Aizen had changed the game, and as much as Grimmjow loathed it, he had to play by Aizen's rules. Adapting was part of survival, too, even if he despised this change of circumstances.
So, what'd a body do, if one thought like a devious shinigami instead of a devious hollow?
As he sat there, trying his best to flex his grey cells, nothing came to him. Irritably, he clenched his fist, the edge of the roof cracking under the pressure. He grit his teeth. Think! It was all he had right now! His back was up against the wall, and only his mind could take him forward, so think!
Lost in his attempt at thought, Grimmjow didn't notice the ledge he sat on breaking under the wrathful grip of his arm, and it came as a complete surprise when the ledge collapsed. It was old and worn down by eons if inactivity, and even stone can become frail with enough time. He let out a surprised cry as he fell down, a portion of the wall collapsing behind him, showering him with small bits of rock and concrete. He landed on a sand dune, sinking to his knees. A fall like this couldn't possibly kill or even hurt him; he was surprised more than anything, and annoyed that his senses had been so dulled that he hadn't seen it coming.
Then the rocks came down behind him, and one larger piece struck him over the head, a rain of smaller bits of wall pelting his shoulders and back. Letting out an angry, indistinct growl, Grimmjow went face first into the sand. Angry, he waited for the rocks to stop falling, before propping himself up. This, too, on top of everything else? This shit-
Then, as his stared down on the sand, it came to him.
Pull the rug out from under him. Hit him where it hurts, where he don't expect it. His face split into a grin as he heaved himself up. Of course! That shinigami bastard wasn't a hollow, and that meant that what he treasured wasn't like the things Grimmjow would treasure. It meant he had weaknesses no hollow worth his salt would have. Yes…
Vaguely, the plan began to form in Grimmjow's head. Oh yes, Aizen Sousuke, Lord of Hueco Mundo, he did, indeed, have weaknesses… and better yet, he was arrogant. He probably wouldn't even see it coming. Grimmjow'd make the fucker rue the day he humiliated Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and it'd be easy. It meant doing some things Grimmjow had never thought he'd do, things he found despicable, but weighed against the weight of his hate and his fury, it was as nothing. This was what it meant being a hollow- doing what was necessary to move up. The game had changed, but fundamentally, it was the same.
Raising his hand triumphantly, as if to grasp at the moon, Grimmjow let out a long, maniacal laugh.
The gateway closed behind them. Lanza looked up at the night sky; it was gloomy, dark and cloudy, all the better for their mission. The dark did nothing to hinder them, of course. The perpetual gloom of Hueco Mundo left every hollow with excellent night vision, and despite the brighter confines of Las Noches, the skill hadn't left them with their transformation to arrancar. They had landed well over a mile away from the city limits, each one of them suppressing their reiatsu to the best of their abilities. So far, all seemed to be going well.
"Now, what did I tell you?" said Lanza sharply, turning to his subordinates.
"Keep quiet at all times, keep your head down, and don't use any of your powers unless you absolutely have to, to keep ourselves alive," Ggio said smoothly, his lips curving into an arrogant smirk. "Really boss, it's simple."
"Simple enough," Findor agreed, "but without the use of sonido, how much of the night will be spent just approaching the city?"
"We'll run," said Lanza, "and we'll slow down once we approach the city limits. Once there, we'll split up to cover more ground. Ggio, you are with Findor. Take the lead."
He could sense Findor's disapproval at being ordered about by his peer, but there was no helping it. They were far more capable in battle than either Loly or Menoly, both of whom he wanted to keep an eye on.
"Yes, boss," said Ggio delightedly. "You hear that, Findor?"
"Listen-" Findor began, choler in his voice, but Lanza cut him off.
"Quiet, the both of you!" he said sharply, "I asked you if you could behave when I told you about the mission, and you both swore you would. Lord Aizen is counting on us. Do not mess up!"
"Yes, sir!" the two of them said in chorus, Ggio's mockery and Findor's hostility gone without a trace. Good hollows as they were, they knew to respect the pack leader's authority.
"Loly, Menoly, with me," said Lanza, "come on, we don't have all night."
Running to Karakura had taken them to the city limits in less than an hour; although they could not use sonido, they could all move their legs more quickly than any normal human could ever hope to. As they came upon the first buildings, they slowed down. Finally they paused by a street, the cityscape ahead of them, a number of tall, dark buildings looming above them.
"All right, boss," said Ggio, keeping his voice hushed, "how do we do this?"
It felt… almost nostaligc. It wasn't the first time their little band had had to sneak and hide, under threat of death, ready to be assaulted by a much more powerful enemy at any moment. And make no mistake, Lanza thought, these are enemies out of our league.
Using the full extent of his powers, he could maybe- and that was a solid maybe- match a captain, but there were three of them assigned, and a number of vice-captains as well. Together, that force dwarfed his badly, and if they were found and fought it out, they would surely die.
"Split up and search, like I said," Lanza said quietly. There was no risk of anyone hearing them at the moment, but by old habit, he had fallen into the same speech pattern as his subordinates.
"Any idea of where, lord?" said Findor. "It is a large area to search in a single night."
"Grimmjow's retinue was slain near the city's center," said Lanza. He had studied the mission reports in preparation for this, and it had been more than a little illuminating. "Presumably, the shinigami are split up and stationed across the city in areas where they can quickly respond to a threat. You and Ggio go left, and I'll go right. Move across the rooftops, find the center, and move slowly, sensing for what you can. Keep a low profile and don't use any more power than you absolutely have to."
Ggio and Findor nodded. "And if we're found?"
"Come dawn, you rendezvous here and meet up with us. Same if you're found; fall back. Don't fight unless you have to. Escape as soon as you can if you're cornered."
"You ask us to leave you behind, lord?" Findor scoffed.
"That's an order," said Lanza firmly. "We'll handle ourselves, and you'll do the same. I'm trusting you, here."
"As our lord wishes," said Ggio smoothly. "Come on, Findor. Those shinigami won't spy on themselves."
Lanza watched them go, keeping a low profile and climbing up the closest building. He felt a pang of worry. They were strong, but this was hostile territory filled with bigger fish. But, Lord Aizen had given his orders, and they were clear.
"All right, Loly, Menoly," he said, "you heard me. Follow my lead."
"Yes, sir!" the two girls said in chorus. Even now, they seemed excited to be by his side. He only hoped they could keep their composure.
Bambietta stared hungrily into the distance. She'd sensed them from afar, despite their efforts. They had hidden well, for a bunch of hollows at least, but they left a trail they probably hadn't noticed. And who could blame them? They had no idea quincies of her calibre was in the city. Sorely tempted, she spun her quincy cross. To hunt them down, to kill them… it'd be both fun and righteous. There was just one thing…
"Bambietta."
The killjoy.
"What, grand master?" said Bambietta, annoyed.
"You were about to chase after them."
"You don't know that," said Bambi defiantly. Seeing the look in his eyes, she said, "Okay, okay, but come on! They're hollows and they all deserve to die."
"However much that may be the case," said Haschwalth, "our orders are clear. We are not to reveal ourselves, or endanger our operation in any way."
"But it'd be easy! I'd be in and out in five minutes!"
"Do not underestimate your prey," said Haschwalth gravely. "Pride cometh before the fall, paladin."
"Whatever," grumbled Bambi, feeling the opportunity slip away.
"Besides," said Haschwalth, "the shinigami aren't totally inept. Can't you sense it?"
"Sense what?" said Bambietta, frowning. Then she concentrated, and grinned.
Lanza had slowly- for an arrancar, at least- moved further toward the heart of Karakura, sensing for shinigami. If anyone in his group could sense them, it would be him, and even then it'd be a challenge. A shinigami at rest was not too different from a hollow at rest; any creature with real control of its spiritual power would exude rather little when inactive. Asleep, he'd have to get within twenty yards or less to sense any of them properly. Luckily, though, it didn't seem like any of them had any sentries out; he'd have sensed them for sure.
In the distance, he could see Ggio raising a hand, a few rooftops over. Lanza raised a hand, and motioned forward, and Ggio sprung into action alongside Findor, continuing his sweep. This, too, was an old habit; as hollows they had learned how to communicate wordlessly when out on the hunt, a skill that came in handy here and now.
"Right," he whispered, quiet as a mouse, "nothing here. Keep moving, girls."
They both nodded. So far, nothing. The three of them briefly paused as they hit a roof edge, and then as one they leaped across the chasm, landing on the next rooftop over, immediately crouching low, all of them quickly looking around, sensing for an opponent. After a minute or so of careful crouching, they moved forward. They had advanced this way for over an hour, slow and careful. Lanza crouched across the rooftop, sensing for any kind of spiritual signature. No good. Maybe he had to drop to street level? It was less exposed than up here, and closer to where the enemy might be, but he could get lost; these streets were not familiar to him.
'Move', he motioned with a hand, pointing forward. Following his lead, Loly and Menoly advanced toward the edge of the rooftop.
It came out of nowhere. Only Lanza's lightning-fast reflexes stopped the knife from plunging into Loly's throat; instinctively he'd twisted in the way of the figure that had struck them. He felt a hot jab of pain as the knife burrowed into his forearm, breaking through his hierro. Before he had the chance to do anything else, a fist had brutally slammed into his throat, before slamming into his nose with its palm, a foot violently connecting with his knee. Lanza coughed and fell back, managing to roll onto his feet, while Loly and Menoly scattered.
Only now he got a good look of his attacker, a black silhouette against the night sky. It was small, but its power was vast, and it had black clothes.
"Shinigami!" he exclaimed, "Loly, Menoly, run!"
The two hesitated, unwilling to abandon him.
"Commander to central," said the figure, raising one hand to her ear, drawing a short blade from behind its back with the other, "red alert. I repeat, red alert. Notify all mission operatives immediately. Arrancar presence, five total, one espada."
Having blindsided him like that, dressed all in black, that voice… it had to be Soifon of the Stealth Force, the dreaded assassin of division two. Lanza stood up, wobbly on his feet.
"Run, damn it!" he snarled, grabbing his two fracciones by the wrists, dashing away desperately.
Soifon watched him dash away, and twirled her blade. She would pursue, for now. Within minutes, the rest of the captains would be here. Wordlessly, she leaped after them.
Loly and Menoly in tow, Lanza had run toward where Ggio and Findor had gone. To their credit, his two servants had already begun to move, but Lanza was faster and stronger even with the extra weight, and he had soon caught up.
"Get down, now!" he barked as they sailed through the air, and as soon as he had given the order, they descended toward the street level. They took a second to recover, Lanza scanning for enemies. They were coming any second now, he knew it.
"We're in deep shit, sir," Ggio said, apparently feeling the need to state the obvious. He drew his blade, and Findor likewise.
"Open a damn portal, now!" Lanza demanded. "There's no time to waste-"
Indeed there wasn't. As he spoke the word, a knife hurled through the air, and although Lanza batted it out of the air, the blade cluttering harmlessly against a wall, he knew what it meant. Quickly drawing his blade, he parried the blow before he could even see it coming, acting entirely on instinct. The little captain of the second division hit like a truck, the blow nearly toppling him.
"Scatter!" he snarled, his tone accepting no disagreement, "Spread out and escape! I'll hold her off!"
Lanza was only vaguely aware that they obeyed, because the next second, he'd received a foot to the gut, and he staggered back. Lightning-fast, Soifon struck at him, and although her blade was shorter than his by a considerable margin, it did not seem to matter. He parried, evaded and dodged, the little captain having closed the gap and locking them in a deadly melee- an area where she had the advantage. Desperately focusing on staying alive, Lanza did nothing to attack, trying only to buy his subordinates the time they needed.
Menoly had run, as much as it had pained her to do so. She hated leaving her master behind, but she was a hollow, and life in the wastes had taught her practicality. She dashed through the streets, hoping to find a quiet spot. Opening a gateway to Hueco Mundo wouldn't take a minute, but it might not be time she would ever get.
She jumped into an alley and quickly looked around, checking for enemies. None to be seen. Okay, then. Portal. She raised her hand, summoning the necessary energies, but before the ripple had even begun to form, she sensed an approaching energy, active and with all likeliness hostile.
"Shit!" she muttered, quickly drawing her blade. Don't fight unless you had to, that was the order. Well, depending on who she fought, running might not be an option.
"Haineko!" came the command, and although it was dark, Menoly could see something coming at her through the air, and she skipped back, holding out her sword. It was too short to be called long, and too long to be called short, and in any case not very useful against a foe like a captain or vice-captain, but it was better than nothing.
She felt a draft in the air as whatever had come her way missed. She saw a figure further down the alley, a tall and busty woman, wearing a badge on her arm. A vice-captain, then. Defiantly, Menoly held up her weapon.
"Maybe I should ask you to surrender," said the woman, slowly approaching Menoly, "but I think we both know I shouldn't bother."
Menoly frowned. She held the hilt of a blade, but the blade itself was missing. Was that what had come at her, then? She glanced over her back, hoping to see an escape route. However, that was a mistake; the moment she looked away, those things came flying through the air again. Menoly ducked, bending backward, and she felt a strange substance rake her skin. It was like sharp gravel, or sand, grinding against her. She went into a controlled fall, rolling to her feet, and dashed forward, hoping to take the vice-captain off-guard. The officer reacted in time, though, retracting whatever her shikai was made of to form a protective barrier. Menoly jumped back. Damn it all!
Ggio had found himself under intense bombardment, the accursed shinigami magic flying through the air in bright, colorful flashes, setting his retina flaring with light. Whoever had attacked him had not yet managed to hit, but the caster was taxing him for every ounce of his agility. It was a good thing that was his strongest suit, because he'd seen the magical bolts collide with the street floor, melting or exploding the asphalt effortlessly.
He somersaulted through the air, blade in hand, ready to jump aside at any time. All he wanted right now was to see where his attacker was.
She was small, her feminine form striking an impressively hostile figure in the moonlight. Her hands were aglow with magical energies, and there was a golden glow from under her robes.
"I guess there's no chance of just letting me go if I ask nicely?" said Ggio with a grin much more self-assured than he felt. He spun his blade in his hand, calculating the distance between them. Twenty yards at most; he could close that in a second…
"You're an invader," said the woman fiercely, "and I'm not going to let you kill anyone."
If only she knew, Ggio thought to himself. But why would she trust anything he had to say?
Without warning, he charged, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, blade raised for a stab. However, the shinigami reacted in time, raising a shield to stop his thrust, before discharging some strange kind of blast, sending him sliding back. Magic! Ggio growled. He had no problem with fighting, but Lanza's orders had been clear. Get away when you can…
Well, he'd been found. Nothing for it. Snarling, he charged her again.
A wall of ice had very nearly encased Findor, but his reflexes had saved him at the very last moment. He'd sensed something coming, halted his run and twisted back, but even that hadn't been enough. His arm was frozen in place, and in the corner of his eye he saw the shape of a very determined shinigami with black hair and what looked like a very sharp sword, coming right at him.
Mustering all his strength, his brain in full survival mode, he wrenched his arm free and reached for his own blade. He got it out of its scabbard, only barely out in time to parry an overhead slash. He staggered back; he hadn't yet had time to regain his balance. Fortunately, his attacker didn't have the mass to completely overwhelm him, and he pushed back, at the brink of losing his footing.
Quickly, the shinigami pointed a palm at his chest and shouted, "Hadou one: Shou!!"
Findor, who had already struggled to stand upright, was thrown back several yards, and it was all he could do not to cut himself on his own blade as he went into a tumble. Not a warrior fraccion for nothing, he made his tumble into a roll, and hurried back to his feet. However, before he could do more than get up to one knee, there she was again- and it was a she, judging by her voice- with her blade aimed at his neck. Grunting, he parried just in time.
"Aren't you supposed to have some sense of honor, shinigami?" he snarled, pushing back.
As dangerous as the situation was, he felt right at home, almost enjoying it. Hueco Mundo had seen him through deadlier scraps than this, and he was not about to give in easily.
"Honourless curs do not deserve any quarter, hollow!" exclaimed the shinigami fiercely. Findor was impressed. It was a more ruthless attitude than he would have expected from the likes of her, even if it was dressed up in flowery language and foolish philosophy.
Aware that he had to turn the tide and do it quickly, he summoned a red ball of energy in his palm, readying a cero. It would take some time to fire, but it didn't need to. As he expected, the shinigami sensed the surge of power and skipped back, allowing Findor to get to his feet. He let the energy sizzle out, and stood with his feet wide, sword held up. Finally, he got a good look on his attacker. She was not very tall, but she had a rather regal bearing, the moonlight accentuating her black hair. Killing her, Findor decided, would be a worthy act.
…Except for his orders. And the fact that the city was swarming with people like her, and worse.
The shinigami did not wait for him to take the initiative. Raising a hand, she cried, "Hadou thirty-three: Sokatsui!"
Waves of radiant blue fire surged toward him, and Findor jumped up, briefly digging his hand into a wall.
"Ice, then fire?" he barked. "Make up your mind, shinigami!"
Without giving her time to respond, he dashed downwards, zig-zagging between the wall and the recently created ice, closing the distance with blinding speed. The shinigami reacted well, and parried his first blow with ease.
Worthy indeed, thought Findor, and his lips curled into a smile as his duel began.
Loly had run, and for want of a better option she had split away as everyone else had done. Staying together wasn't safe, but neither was being alone; they were out of options with nowhere to go and only one goal. Still, she had gotten quite far without anyone stopping her just yet. Briefly she paused by a street corner to catch her breath. Running mindlessly could be as dangerous as staying near a threat. One never knew what might lurk around the corner; that was a lesson she had learned the harsh way. Crouching low, she sensed for her enemies.
Almost immediately, she felt it, close, very close- too close. She had gotten to her feet to run, but it was too late. Loly almost barged into the figure. It wore armor, a helmet obscuring its facial features. With horror, Loly realized the shinigami wore a captain's haori, putting it well outside her capacity. Frightened, she reacted on instinct, gathering the energy of a cero in her hand, discharging it quickly. Maybe if she hit hard enough, it'd distract the captain. It wouldn't do much, but a little was better than nothing, and staying alive for the moment was something she was good at.
Her spirits dropped as the ball of red energy fired, hit home, and dissipated almost entirely. It hadn't been very strong, but no effect at all?
"I'll be damned," said the shinigami, her voice stern. "They really knew what they were doing with that last upgrade."
She pulled out her sword, and Loly felt a bead of sweat trail down her cheek. Desperately, she pulled out her own blade, but she barely had time to raise it before the captain came down on her like a ton of bricks. It was all she could do to parry the first few strikes, each blow feeling like it would rip her arms off. She quickly went numb, and it was a miracle she hadn't been beaten down already. She was continuously backing away, on the retreat. Think! Think! Was there any way out? Could she run? The captain was likely faster than her, and turning around would just mean exposing her back. Damn it all!
Loly's grip on her blade slackened, and with one vicious sideways blow, her zanpakutou was knocked out of her hands, clattering harmlessly on the asphalt. The captain raised her blade, its tip stopping not half an inch from Loly's throat. The arrancar swallowed, terrified. This was it, then.
Then, like thunder, there was Lanza, slamming into the captain in a ferocious tackle. The shinigami reeled and fell over, caught by surprise. Lanza, not wasting another moment, grabbed Loly by the wrist and dashed into a dark alleyway.
"Listen," he said urgently, his voice a sharp hiss, "get to the rendezvous! I'll keep her off your back!"
"But-but- the others-" Loly managed, nearly scared out of her wits.
"NOW!" Lanza barked, turning around. The captain had gotten up to her feet, and was already advancing toward them. Loly finally obeyed, and turned to run again.
Lanza stood in the shadows, quite obscured, watching the captain come toward him. In the faint moonlight, he could see the glimmer of her armour, an elegant suit of plate mail under her haori. With the way her long, red hair flowed down her shoulders, her face framed by a simple but stately helmet obscuring her features, she looked like a fury, like some malevolent daemon from mythology, come to destroy him.
"Hold, shinigami!" he exclaimed, drawing his blade.
"You are much too late to be making demands of us, espada," said the captain coolly. Lanza blinked. Her voice was… something else. Like something he had heard before, only he didn't know where…
But this was no time to get distracted.
"All we want is to escape," he said. "We mean you no harm-"
"I am not here to negotiate with you. Throw down your arms and surrender, or fight."
"I… can't do that," Lanza said ruefully. There was no choice. Slowly, he held up his blade.
"You are a captain of the Gotei," he said slowly, "which means I cannot afford to take you lightly. Twist, Serpiente!"
There was a flash as his power spiked, and he felt himself transform, change, his flesh warping like liquid for but a moment before settling into an old, familiar form. The captain had jumped back, suddenly wary. Lanza stepped out into the dim moonlight to face her. He was leaned forward, supporting himself on the joint of his arms. They had grown long and sharp, bent back at a joint in the middle of his arm, much like that of a mantis. His body had grown longer and larger, sleek but protected by long plates of bone; only his legs at all resembled the humanoid form he'd had seconds ago. His head was a long, bony affair, rows of teeth lining what looked like a dragon's skull, its eyes glowing a menacing yellow. A long and stately tail extended from his lower back, and a series of long spikes ran from the bridge of his nose across his back and tail. He stood up on both legs, and raised his arms. His forelimbs were nearly twice the length of the shinigami's blade, and with a twist of his arm, they began to spin freely, a buzzing whirlwind of lethal force. He towered over her and charged, hoping it would be enough.
Neliel had been waiting patiently for hours. She had sat in her room, hoping Lanza wouldn't need her aid. The boy had been equipped with a sensor, to alert her to any trouble, and for quite some time, all had been quiet, but Neliel had not allowed herself to doze off or get distracted. Blade in hand, she had meditated, constantly aware of the sensor.
Then the signal had rung out, and Neliel had hastily stood up and opened a portal. Her comrades were in danger, and her heart ached for them; the portal couldn't open quickly enough. She was quite fond of Lanza, although she hadn't known him long. She had long since forgotten any family she'd had when she was alive, but she imagined if she'd had a little brother, he wouldn't have been unlike the idealistic, dedicated young arrancar.
It was with this in mind that she burst through the portal, homing in on where the signal had first sounded. Unfortunately, they had already gone, along with the shinigami in pursuit, and it had taken her a couple of minutes to locate the main source of chaos in the city. Her mission, she knew, was to provide cover for the group and allow them a timely escape, not to fight or kill enemies. Her power was more than enough to draw the attention of the captains, and she only hoped it would be over before it all escalated.
She had found Lanza battling the short, vicious captain of the second division. Sensing the arrival of a more powerful arrancar, she had let Lanza go, immediately turning her attention to Neliel. So it was that, in the dull light of the moon, the two of them were now locked in combat.
Neliel cut in a wide arc in front of her, quite forcefully, more to force the captain back than with any expectation to really hit her. Neliel's zanpakutou had a far greater range than the short blade of the assassin in front of her, but so far it had achieved little more than to keep the captain at a distance. Soifon dodged under it, then smoothly went into a backward somersault, finding the time to launch a couple of smoke bombs midway through the motion. They detonated, and for a moment, Neliel's vision was obscured by white smoke.
Her speed was really quite something. Not a moment later, Neliel felt a roundhouse kick slam into the back of her knee, forcing her down on one knee, and only a quick hand thrust upward stopped the short blade from coming at her neck. Neliel caught the blade in her hand, and despite her hierro, a small trail of blood went down her wrist as the assassin pulled back, putting space between them again. Neliel stood up.
Such an attack could very well have incapacitated or even outright killed a lesser arrancar, but Neliel's power was that of a true elite, an espada with centuries of experience as a hollow and the thick, sturdy body of a monster transformed into something faster, stronger, and harder than anything the assassin could ever have faced before. With only a slight ache in her knee, and a scratch in her palm, Neliel stood up.
"Very devious," she said, looking around. The assassin had melded into the shadows, no doubt hiding her reiatsu, waiting for yet another ambush. "Your ruthlessness would do any hollow proud."
The assassin remained silent, clearly too disciplined to respond to a simple taunt. Neliel's instincts were working on overdrive. As much as she hated what she had once been, there was no denying it had made her… sharp.
The attack came, and without even being aware of it happening, Neliel twisted out of the way of a stab aimed at her eye, delivered in a microsecond from who-knew-where. She reached out with a hand, trying to grapple with the captain, but the assassin twisted her arm out of the way. Neliel lashed out with her blade, and the captain jumped back, evading Neliel's strike by a hair's breadth.
"You're quick," Neliel said, daring to cast a glance to her left, then right. Were the other captains coming? Some of them, she knew, would battle her one-on-one as a matter of honour, but that hardly seemed to be the assassin's style.
"You're… persistent," said the assassin, circling her with her short blade held in a backhand grip.
"Leave," said Neliel firmly. "We have no business here now. Leave us be, and we will do the same."
There was the hint of a self-satisfied smile on the captain's face, and Neliel skipped back, just barely parrying an overhead strike, delivered with lightning speed. It was on, then.
Erza had nearly been cut to ribbons within the first few seconds. She had made the mistake of trying to parry the espada's strikes, but even at her fastest, there was no competition. With not one, but two spinning wheels of death, faster and more furious than anything she could muster, her zanpakutou had broken in two places, and she had been lucky to slide back with only a few dents in her armor. She had called out her shikai, opting for Justice. The shield and sword had fared better, but even then there was no room to counter-attack. She was huddled behind her shield, her every move dedicated to enduring a never-ending assault. It had to be ten strikes per second at the least, and occasionally he would sweep at her leg with one arm. It was fortunate she could read the movements of his arms, because if his entire body had moved like this, she would have been chanceless. Powerless to do more than defend, she was slowly being pushed back.
This was no way to win a fight. But, there was just the one espada, that's what Soifon's operatives had relayed to her and all the other team members, and the draconic beast in front of her was surely it. With enough time, captains Kuchiki or Soifon were bound to come to her aid, and two against one was sure to end poorly for the arrancar.
This did not sit right with her for a number of reasons. Firstly, something about ganging up on an opponent- even an evil monster under Aizen's employ- felt… wrong. Some stubborn part of Erza, a noble remainder from when she had been alive and unsullied by the cruelties of the afterlife, disliked the idea of defeating an enemy unfairly.
More practically, she disliked the idea of having to rely on others. In the heat of battle, one hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. One didn't depend on the idea that somebody would come and help out, even if the odds were in one's favour.
Thirdly, deep down she knew she wanted to beat him by herself, by her own power, by crushing him with might and force. Because he was Aizen's servant, an agent of the pain and suffering her old mentor represented. She wished she were above vindictiveness, but she wasn't. Beating him, she admitted- only to herself- would be satisfying.
She couldn't do that like this, she knew.
Raising her shield up high, absorbing a hundred blows in an insant, she rolled to the left, got to her feet, and immediately went into a short shunpo, the burst of movement putting some forty yards between her and her assailant. He was walking toward her, although not very quickly; he was ferocious in combat, but perhaps his armour wore him down?
Erza shot a quick glance at her shield. It had been pristine and smooth only minutes earlier; now it was an abused mess of dents and cuts, the paint having flaked off most of the shield's surface. She frowned at the espada. No holding back. She thumbed a rune at the waist of her armour, and the suit of plate mail smoothly dropped off, clattering to the ground, leaving only the helmet.
"Bankai!" she cried, feeling her power rise and peak, "Tetsuken Yoseitama!"
She felt her abused shield mend, and around her the smooth, comfortable sensation of Tetsu no Tama's armour taking shape around her.
"Requip: Heaven's Wheel!" she commanded. Around her, the armour warped for a second, the plate replaced by the light, silvery scale mail. Great metal wings formed behind her back, and she raised them into the air tentatively. With but a mental command, her shield and broadsword was dismissed, replaced by her dual blades.
So, this dragon of a man would test her speed? He would have it, and then some. She flapped her wings and soon took to the air, soaring up high with preternatural speed, before swooping down on him, blades held at the ready. The espada saw her coming, his blades spinning in anticipation. A direct attack would be a meatgrinder, and even her armour could scarcely be expected to stand up to such an assault. But, a pigheaded frontal attack was not her intent. At the last second she veered away, her blades raking the arrancar's shoulder. She broke her flight against the side of a building, and a second later she had lunged toward his back. To her surprise, he had already turned around, blade-arms raised. Erza steeled herself and commited to the attack, charging in close. Before he could start spinning again, she had gotten inside his guard, her blades working in tandem, raining down blow after blow against his armour. The espada snorted, and even with his longer blades less effective at such a close range, his armour was more than enough to absorb the strikes, her attacks resulting in little more than chip damage. From behind, he swept at her with his long tail, and as Erza jumped over it he brought his sword-arms down in a stab. Erza parried both strikes, but the espada leaned in, putting his weight behind the strikes. Erza struggled, the two of them locked in a contest of raw power. Erza felt her knees buckling under the pressure. This was a dangerous foe, she realized, more so than she had expected at first.
But, she was Erza Scarlet, captain of the Gotei, and the one who had to face Aizen one day. Thinking of the cruel bastard's indifferent face, she grit her teeth and pushed back, trembling all the way, but slowly forcing the espada back.
Sensing he was getting nowhere, the espada jumped backward with surprising agility. His bulk was deceptive, Erza realised; he was clearly capable of light, easy movements to accompany his fast, fearsome attacks.
"You are quite capable, captain," said the espada, tentatively resting his frame on his blade-arms, oddly giving him the impression of a beast leaned on its knuckles. Slowly he circled her, keeping an eye on her, Erza in turn never taking her eyes off him. His voice was lower in pitch now, his eyes hungry and large. Yes, this was a hollow alright, the truth of its being fully revealed. Human-looking or not, nearly all of them were inhuman; Erza knew it well.
"You are about to find out," Erza scoffed, and there was a shift in her reiatsu, like a stiff breeze rustling dry grass. "Requip: Purgatory!"
Pitch-black plate mail encased her, and she felt the hunger and wrath of the armour begin to eat at her mind. Speed had done her no good; he was plenty protected from mere blades. She had to try harder.
"Impressive."
"I'm not finished," Erza said, and with a gesture like a shrug, she dismissed her dual blades. In their place was the shield, restored to its former glory, and in her hand, a warhammer. It was no mallet; its head was small and vicious, made for cracking plate, and a spike extended from the other side of the head.
"Espada," she said, her voice trembling with something she couldn't quite describe, "face Ruin."
Not waiting for him to respond, she charged. The espada stood up and spun his arms around, readying his deadly storm of blades, but Erza was ready. Shield raised up, she tossed the hammer up into the air, and pointed a hand forward.
"Hadou thirty-one: Shakkahou!" she cried. The spell formed instantly, and Erza aimed the red, explosive orb at the espada's right arm. It struck home, momentarily knocking aside the beast's right arm, its left still spinning rapid death. A second later she was within striking distance, and she raised up her hand, easily catching the warhammer as it came down. She held up her shield, bracing as the espada's left arm rained down a hundred blows on her, rattling against the shield and threatening to break her stride. Erza pushed forward nonetheless, and hammer in hand, she struck hard and true. The hammer's head connected with the espada's chest, and there was a thunderous clap as it broke bone, leaving a fist-sized hole in its armor. This close, at arm's length, the espada couldn't spin its blades, couldn't utilize its greatest asset, and Erza took full advantage of it, raining down blow after blow on her enemy. The espada staggered back, unable to do more than defend.
This was the first time she had used the hammer against a real enemy, it being a recent gift from her zanpakutou. She had an axe and a greatsword to cut hard with if needed, but Ruin was specialized to break armour, and she was grateful for it. It was not fast, but right now, it did not need to be.
Lanza reeled back, grunting in pain as the shinigami's weapon took one chip after another from his armor. She hadn't done any lethal damage yet, but if he left it like this, it would only be a matter of time.
Well, he wasn't ready to quit, and he was not out of tricks. He focused through the chaos and the pain, and in front of him, five deep red orbs began to form. The ceros took shape and blossomed, discharging all at once within the span of seconds. Lanza breathed a sigh of relief as the shinigami rolled to the side. He had hit home at least once, he knew, but most importantly he had given her pause, broken her stride.
Erza quickly got to her feet, raising her hammer. Her shield had absorbed most of the attack, but even so, she had been struck by a cero almost point blank, and formed in less than half the time she would have expected. Staring intently at her opponent, she paused, trying to assess his power.
"Serpiente is more complex than you would expect, shinigami," the espada boasted, carefully advancing toward her, his blade-arms spinning around slowly. "It does not offer me power, but control. Control over everything I have, including my ability to form a cero. You will not find me wanting for close quarters combat."
"Talk is cheap," Erza spat before she dashed toward him. The espada's blades spun to full speed, but at the last second, Erza leaped to the side, her shield absorbing the full brunt of his left side, while her hammer slammed down on his shoulder, punching through the bone and into the soft flesh beneath. She heard him growl with pain, and a second later, a cero slammed into her from the side, sending her tumbling. She had barely gotten to her feet when another slammed into her, then another, then another, the espada slowly advancing on her while firing. Erza braced behind her shield, all too grateful for the protection her helmet offered. That considered, she was pinned, and he was moving toward her, and she did not want to find out just how much damage those blades could do.
There was nothing for it. She would have to take a hit charging in, and hope she could surprise him. Running would just make her an easy target, be it for his ceros or for his blades. She took a deep breath, and she stood up, bursting forward. As she moved, her shield and hammer were replaced by her great axe, held firmly in both hands. Once, twice she was pummeled by a cero, the red energy burning her, searing her flesh and heating her armor, but she pushed on. Just as she had hoped, the espada hadn't expected her sudden charge, and he only had time to bring one of his blade-arms to bear. Rather than attempting to parry or deflect, Erza simply smashed the axe down, trusting the strength of its edge to carry through.
With a graitfying crunch, the axe bit into the joint of the arm, cutting short the rotation. The espada reeled back, the blade-limb Erza had struck cut in half, dangling limp from the joint. At the same time, however, the other arm struck her, and in an instant she had been cut a hundred times, the keen, ruthless edge of the bone-blade wearing down her armour and cutting into her skin. The sheer force of it knocked her over, sent her flying, and she felt blood trailing down her side.
Lanza grimaced with pain. His right arm had been ruined; he would have been foolish to expect a captain using bankai to do any less damage. But all the same, he had struck her down, and had created an opening. Eager to finish it, he charged. He could pummel her with cero after cero, he knew, but she seemed to shrug them off at an alarming rate. No, right now he had an opportunity he would not soon have again- if ever- and he had to take it. She had to die, so that he might live. Without him, the others… no, he could not bear to think of it. Snarling, he raised his blade-arm.
Erza rolled away on instinct. She was dazed, dizzy, not even thinking as she felt the spray of ruined concrete shower over her, the spinning bone-blade missing by mere inches. She kept rolling, desperate to get on her feet. Without even thinking, she summoned her shield; without it she would surely die. She got up to one knee, before a hundred strikes rained down on her. She ached. The battle had been fierce, and it had taken its toll. She had underestimated him, she realized. Her hair hung loose, and as warm blood trailed down her cheek from her forehead, she realized she had lost her helmet. He had to have clipped her head with that last attack, knocking the helmet off and leaving her head unprotected.
Still, she was alive yet and far from beaten. She extended a hand back and away from the vicious assault on her shield, and in her hand, Ruin manifested once more. One arm down. One to go.
Crying out with defiance, she fought her way up from standing on one knee, to standing upright. The blade continually rattled against her shield, and it was an almost overwhelming weight. Almost. A cero struck her at the hip, but Erza simple absorbed the hit, ignoring the surge of pain.
Then she thrust herself forward, aware that she was gambling with her life. One false move, a slack grip of her shield for a second, and she would be a head shorter. The espada's move was predictable, though; just raining down blow after blow from the same direction. As she pushed forward, she lashed out with the hammer, and felt a pang of satisfaction as its spike cut into the espada's left knee joint. He cried out and sank down to one knee, his blade-arm grinding to a halt as it slammed into the street. Shattered concrete sprayed all over, but his blade stopped. Seizing the opportunity, Erza roared triumphantly and raised her hammer high, channeling power into its head. She brought it down once, hard, on the kneeling arrancar's head. The bone cracked under the blow, and the draconian skull shattered, leaving only splinters of the once fearsome image. The espada's torso reeled back, blood trailing from his forehead, and he sunk down to both knees, Erza standing over him like an executioner ready to strike her last blow.
Then, she saw it. The clouds parted in the sky, the moonlight shone brightly for a second, and she saw. She saw his face.
A young, handsome face, horrifyingly familiar. An elaborate tattoo running from above his right eye and down beneath it. Blue hair, looking almost black in the moonlight. Erza's mouth widened in shock, and she lowered her hammer for a second. He stared at her defiantly, then with a bit of confusion as she stood still, not delivering the coup de grace.
"What-" he began.
"Jellal," said Erza breathlessly, "Jellal Fernandes!"
His eyes, too, widened, and he stared right back at her, as if waking up from a dream, as if suddenly recognizing a long lost acquaintance. A number of emotions played across his face; shock, confusion, surprise, cluelessness.
Jellal Fernandes. By providence or by some cruel twist of fate, he had come back to haunt her.
Yes my dear readers. Lanza is none other than Jellal Fernades! You've all been asking for more fairy tail characters to make an appearance, and who better than a ghost from Erza's past, the one who has caused her as much pain, if not more so than even Aizen! This wasn't a decision I made just when we introduced his character, but an idea ive had in my mind prior to getting to the soul society arc. Some of you already suspected it would be him, and to you all, I say congratulations!
The fact is, ive left a hint to his real identity ever since his introduction. His name. How so? Well, you see back in the old days of Fairy Tail, Jellal was misspelled and mistranslated as Gerard in fan translations of the manga. Gerard means spear brave. All I did was simply translate "Spear Brave" into Spanish, and thus his name, Lanza Valiente was given. A subtle hint I admit, but a hint none the less.
Fun fact, Originally, very early on in this stories conception, (Like around chapter 17 or so.) I had considered using Minerva instead, given her rivalry with Erza in cannon. However, Greatkingrat88 thankfully informed me that it was a rather weak idea. He was absolutely right, given that, well, the two of them haven't even met while Erza was alive. Not to mention a conflict with Jellal would be far more dramatic, and would be a much greater character to use to focus on the arrancar than Minerva would.
Now some of you may have a legitimate questions, like how Erza didn't recognize him upon first meeting him. Well, his face was obscured by shadows when he saved Loly if you didn't notice, and in the dark of night. His release form also comes with a mask that covers his face, similar to that of a dragons. Those combined factors hid his identity from her until now. Everyone else dosnt really know him as his other identity.
One last thing, and I want to make this clear, No, I am NOT pairing up Erza with Jellal. That has not, and never will be in this story. Its not so much that I hate the pairing itself. but rather, I have someone else in mind for Erza.
Needless to say, things have been made a bit more complicated now. I'm very VERY eager to hear what you all think of this development. (Seriously, I NEED feedback on this.)