The Death and Life of Erza Scarlet

by Goshinzilla

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

72. A Dire Council Of War

Hey there everybody, I've got another chapter for all of you to enjoy. But before I continue, my writer wants to clarify something.

"Right-o. Last time around, a guest reviewer said, about my stance on bleach, " I'm assuming he love it more than he hates it"

Let me be perfectly clear, so there's no misunderstanding: I really don't. I detest both series for a long list of reasons. PM me, and I'll give you an essay's worth of why.

"But wait GKR, you perfectly ordinary person, why are you writing a fanfic of 700 000 words and counting about two series you hate this much? Are you just a masochist?"

Well yes, but that's not why. I'll lay it out: Both Fairy Tail and Bleach actually had a great cast of characters and a pretty interesting setting, with loads of potential- potential that was squandered, but potential nonetheless. I find the universes and the people inhabiting them enjoyable. And what better way to set things right than to write your own fanfiction on the subject?
I'm looking to write something and write it as well as possible, without the pitfalls that destroyed either series as a worthwhile piece of art. I hate what they are, but I love what they used to be (or in FT's case, what it could have been) and that's where I stand. I've considerable nostalgia for bleach; it's a setting I still enjoy, and even though it was ultimately godawful, it was once worthwhile. So, here I am."

As for myself, I'm very much the opposite. I LOVE both of these series, and they are both in my top 5 favorite anime ive seen. I just love the world and characters far too much. That's not to say I'm not aware of the problems both series have, but I love them despite that.

Anyways, that's enough rambling for now, Lets get onto the show! Please leave a review to show us our support, it really helps us out.

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.

---

Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryuusai's knees ached, and he would much rather have been in bed at this hour, but over a millennium's worth of military command had let him discard concerns like personal comfort like they were nothing; duty never slept, and the captain-commander only when he had the time to do so. Currently he stood in his work office, facing a large set of screens, each one displaying a familiar face. There was Captain Erza Scarlet, his appointed commander of the mission to the world of the living, and Captain Soifon and Captain Kuchiki Byakuya, as well. Less expected were the faces of Urahara Kisuke, and some green-haired shinigami whose name he did not recall- a science advisor? No matter who she was, he could only assume she had a right to be there.

He suppressed a yawn, and with both hands on his cane and his best stoic expression on his face, he stared down the screens.

"I was assured this was a matter of utmost urgency," he said. "Given the hour I was called, I can only assume it must be."

It was indeed late; the wee hours of the morning, in fact.

"It is, captain-commander," Scarlet assured him, a grim expression on her face. "You see-"

"First of all," Yamamoto interrupted her, unwilling to let his displeasure at having been woken so soon show directly, opting instead for a show of authority, "I would like to know about your arrancar captive. I was informed yesterday afternoon- what have you found since? What of him?"

Scarlet blinked, clearly not having expected the question. "Captain-commander-"

"Speak," Yamamoto said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

"Er... Yes. Of course," said Scarlet. "Er, Captain Soifon?"

Soifon nodded. "As I conducted the interrogations so far, I would be best suited. Captain-commander, the captive came to us of his own will, professing a particular hatred for Aizen following a disfigurement-"

"This much I've been informed of," said Yamamoto dismissively. "Tell me what matters, captain. This is not an official report."

"Yes, captain-commander," Soifon said, brushing off his rebuke with professional calm. "His hatred for Aizen appears genuine, and at this point I consider its being an act to be highly unlikely. Not impossible, but unlikely. For what it's worth, I believe he despises Aizen as much as he says he does."

"And?" Yamamoto demanded.

"He is still an arrancar, a hollow," Soifon continued, "and with all the ego that comes with having gained power. He's a monstrous psychopath who, under other circumstances, would not have hesitated a second in killing any of us brutally. He is highly unstable and dangerous."

"Have you gained any useful intelligence?" asked Yamamoto.

"Some," Soifon admitted with a nod. "Not crucial, but we have. We have gained a better understanding of the forces available to him up to the time when the arrancar deserted. We have updated knowledge on the layout of Las Noches. We have, however, learned little about Aizen himself."

Yamamoto nodded sagely, considering the facts.

"Do you expect to learn more from him?"

"There is much to learn, I believe," Soifon continued, "but I doubt if it will be essential. The most useful thing he brought, we've already got secure- and it is in fact why we set up this urgent meeting. The arrancar is a simple brute whose intelligence does not extend beyond a base cunning. He appears to be skilled in close combat, but not outside of that area. For now, I recommend one of two things: either that he be transferred to the second division for a more thorough interrogation, although in such a case I would like to oversee it myself- or that he simply be executed."

"I protest!" Urahara exclaimed. "Do you have any idea how much we could learn about how hollows work? About how they travel between worlds?"

A glance from Yamamoto silenced the irate scientist.

"Commander Scarlet," said Yamamoto, "what do you believe?"

"I… agree with Captain Soifon, for the most part," Scarlet said hesitantly, and Yamamoto was sure she had disapproved of that last notion of execution. "He is a monster, that is certain, and under our laws he would probably be executed for the things he has done. But Urahara is also right- we have a lot to learn here as well."

"Put the law aside," Yamamoto said. "What would you see done with him? Could you bring him in line?"

"I could certainly try," said Scarlet.

"I shall leave him in your hands, then," said Yamamoto. "Learn what you can from him. If you can get him to comply, all the better. If you cannot, then he must be executed. If it fails… then that will be your responsibility. Is that clear?"

Scarlet nodded. Inside, Yamamoto felt an odd sense of approval. She was moral, moral to a fault, but it was nice that somebody was. In the old days, before Yamamoto had united the clans and founded the Gotei, a captive without value as a hostage had either death or hard labour until death to look forward to. It had been a cruel, unforgiving time- but hadn't he put quite a lot of effort into building a better world? The arrancar was almost sure to disappoint them, but perhaps it wouldn't. And if it did, it might serve to let Scarlet mature a little, to understand the selfishness and cruelty so typical to the nature of a hollow.

"Very well, then," he said. "Give me the news that was dire enough to raise me from my sleep."

"The arrancar had stolen a set of plans from Aizen's chief scientist," Scarlet explained, "as a gift of sorts, to show his willingness to cooperate. He wasn't very cooperative in the end, but the document… I've had both science officer Kujo, here, as well as Urahara Kisuke examine it from back to front, three times over. At this time… we're convinced it's quite authentic. It reveals to us Aizen's ultimate goal."

Inwardly, Yamamoto sharpened up. That was considerable intelligence.

"I shall hand the matter over to science officer Kujo and temporary science advisor Urahara," said Scarlet, "as this is their area of expertise, not mine."

"Go ahead," Yamamoto commanded, "and avoid dalliances."

Given that it was Urahara Kisuke, he reasoned, dalliances were just about unavoidable, but he still had to say it, if only on principle.

"Really, this is quite unbelievable," Urahara said with a grin, barely contained glee seeping through his voice. "I'm out for one day, and this falls into their laps? It's quite lucky I came back in time, or-"

"The plans, Mr. Urahara? Please?" said science officer Kujo pleadingly.

"Right, right," Urahara conceded. "They're quite extraordinary, really. Say what you will about Aizen, but he's brilliant in his own way. Not as brilliant as I, of course, but-"

He saw the look Yamamoto was giving him, paused, and cleared his throat.

"Right. Yamamoto, it is the case that the royal realm is closed off from the Gotei, accessible only to you and you alone?"

"You know this to be true," said Yamamoto, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"I am going somewhere with it," the rogue scientist assured him. "Yes, closed off from all, yet… there was knowledge that would allow someone else to enter the palace, wasn't there?"

Yamamoto paused before answering, considering the implications of the question.

"There… was," he admitted, his words coming out slowly as he processed the thoughts now flooding into his mind, "secret and hidden away in the first division, known only to myself, Unohana Retsu and my two pupils."

"It was not secret enough, apparently," Urahara said flatly, "because I hold in my hand the design for creating the King's Key."

It was the kind of statement that should have elicited a gasp. It deserved at the very least a sharp intake of breath. Unfortunately for the gods of narrative convenience, Yamamoto was far too composed to show his shock in such a way, and the children he faced were all of them ignorant of the implications.

"The king's key?" Scarlet said confusedly.

"It would allow Aizen access to the Soul King's own realm," said Yamamoto grimly, "a sacrilege even deeper than his treason and defiance."

"And I doubt he's coming there to deliver a batch of cookies," said Urahara jovially.

"The creation of such an item…" Yamamoto muttered the words at first, his voice slowly rising, "it would take extraordinary energy. Rare and unique magic, the kind of which no normal shinigami could reproduce on his own, even one as devilishly skilled as Aizen Sousuke."

"He found a way, I'm afraid," Urahara said. "Nozomi, if you please?"

Officer Kujo spoke up, seeming surprised to have been addressed.

"Y-yes. Well, basically… er, oh it's actually quite terrible…" she composed herself, perhaps realizing that she stood facing the captain-commander himself.

"Using the spiritual energy of ten thousand human souls with extraordinary spiritual energy, harvested at the same time, this model would allow him to create the King's Key- or at least an identical replica. I cannot be sure, since the exact workings of the royal realm are unknown to us, but… the point is, he knows how. We also know why he's interested in Karakura. It's the only place on Earth with that many spiritually empowered people. It's a nexus of spiritual energy, which is why it faces such an extraordinary amount of hollow attacks. If… if he completes this… this ritual, because I'm loath to call it science, then ten thousand people will die and all their souls, all that they are, will come into his hand and form the key."

"It's actually quite impressive," Urahara said fascinatedly. "I mean, it is morally repugnant, of course, but in its twistedness it's quite a brilliant design. I doubt any of us would ever have conceived of such a solution. There are benefits to a complete lack of morality, it seems."

Yamamoto remained silent for a while, thinking. It was a plan of such grandeur and arrogance that even he had never expected it. Yet, it made sense. Aizen, from what little they had seen of his true self, seemed to be nothing if not ambitious. It's just that his ambition did not stop at conquest, as Yamamoto had assumed, but at godhood- or perhaps deicide.

"This cannot be allowed to happen," Captain Kuchiki said firmly. "Captain-commander, we must fortify Karakura to the fullest. Such a brazen act of murder is nothing short of abominable."

"I… agree," Scarlet said. "We have to protect the people here by all means possible. We're facing a threat like none before, and Aizen… Aizen is strong. If we fail…"

She fell quiet, appearing to consider what would happen if they did, her face solemn and sober.

"We must consider all options," said Soifon, her brows furrowed, "and I do mean all options."

"What do you mean?" said Scarlet.

"If we were to kill enough of the spiritually aware humans ourselves," Soifon suggested levelly, "we would rob Aizen of the ability to carry out his plan. It would not be my first choice-"

"Soifon!" Scarlet exclaimed. "How dare you? You're talking about people! About thousands of people! The ones we have a duty to protect!"

"And if we fail, they all die," Soifon retorted quickly. "If we were to purge a couple of thousand, just enough-"

"Have you gone mad?!" Scarlet was almost screaming now.

"You said yourself that this is a threat unlike any!" Soifon snapped. "I know you are relentlessly moral, but somebody has to consider just what we have to sacrifice for victory. If we fail and they all die, will those ten thousand people thank you for your moral rigor?"

"Silence," Yamamoto said, his voice just enough of a rumble to imply displeasure. The two captains fell quiet, although seeming quite reluctant.

"Captain-commander," Scarlet said after a pause, "surely you must see this is madness-"

"I said, silence," Yamamoto repeated. Scarlet fell quiet. Yamamoto paused, but only briefly.

"We will not resort to anything drastic. Not yet. As we stand today, here and now, we will defend Karakura Town with our life's blood until none are left. Aizen must not be allowed to succeed. We will not consider anything so… final. Not unless all other options are exhausted. But, be aware: Aizen must not be allowed to reach the royal realm. It would be a complete failure of our duty, a shame that could never be washed away. For now, I will put our divisions on full alert. I will devise a plan of defense for the city. Urahara Kisuke," he said, turning to the scientist, who blinked with surprise.

"Er, yes?"

"Do whatever you can to find a method of protecting the city. Cost is not an issue; charge as much as is needed. But no matter what, we need everything we have."

"…Yes, of course," said Urahara slowly. Whether he was contemplating the gravity of the situation, how rich he was about to become, or both, Yamamoto couldn't tell.

"Remain vigilant for the time being," Yamamoto said, "all of you. In the event of a sudden invasion, all of us will be within easy reach. Carry on as normal, but know that a heavy burden rests on all of our shoulders. Return to your duties, and be ever watchful."

"Yes, captain-commander," all of them said in unison, except for Urahara Kisuke, who sardonically tipped his hat.

As the screens went inactive one by one, Yamamoto took a deep breath. Slowly, he walked to his desk, and with an equal measure of deliberation, he sat down in his chair. Suddenly, he felt the weight of his millennium of service on his shoulders. He felt very, very old. Aizen Sousuke… of all things, he dared? He had that much audacity?

How far would they have to go to stop him? He dearly hoped they would not have to find out, but in his heart he had little hope that they would not.

---

He had calmed down. Under the surface, his fury still boiled, but its nature had changed, into that of cool resentment. It was anger with a purpose, anger with control firmly attached to it. It was anger put to good use, anger for the sake of motivation, not for some childish outburst of impotent rage.

Aizen's thoughts flowed smoothly as he walked the halls of Las Noches, headed toward his personal chambers. A summons had gone out to the Consejo de la Sombra, and he fully expected they would be there by the time he reached his destination. They were all very dedicated, after all. He had made sure of that.

Grimmjow… that wretched creature had stumbled onto something real, by chance and chance alone. It could be nothing else. He hadn't the brains to decipher the importance of a scientific document- he had to have seen Aizen's signature, guessed at its importance, and taken it.

It was an oversight, he realized. A mistake. One he could not have foreseen, but a mistake nonetheless.

But you could have foreseen it, came the voice of Kyouka Suigetsu, unbidden. You could have taken measures to ensure such a chaotic servant, with so much reason to hate you, could never have hurt you in the first place.

It's easy enough to criticize with the benefit of hindsight, isn't it? Aizen spoke silently, his thoughts ringing more clearly than words to the spirit.

Certainly, came the voice of his zanpakutou. After all, nobody can control everything, can they?

Aizen twitched mentally at the jeer. Complete dominion had always been his desire, and unexpected events… he liked to think himself above them. When something like this happened, she always saw fit to remind him that he was not.

You will speak to me with respect, he commanded her firmly with a thought.

Yes, master, said the zanpakutou with a tone of overt obedience, one Aizen knew to mean she was far from finished. For now, she would hide her jeers behind a wall of civility, which was even more irritating to have to deal with.

What matters is not control, Aizen spoke in his mind, but how one handles an unexpected development. This is what separates the wheat from the chaff.

As my master says.

Her tone was submissive, but he was not convinced- and neither, he knew, was she.

So, he stole my plans, Aizen said dismissively. What of it? This changes nothing. They cannot stop it. They may devise a way to delay it, but once I achieve victory on the battlefield- which was a requirement to begin with- nothing will be able to stop me.

Yet you prepared to extract the raw materials for the key as soon as possible, observed the spirit. If victory on the battlefield is all you need, why is that?

Aizen remained silent.

It is because you fear them, she continued. You fear the chance of failure. You fear that their might cannot be overcome. You fear the power of Yamamoto Genryuusai, and you fear the mind of Urahara Kisuke. You fear that you cannot triumph.

I fear nothing! thought Aizen. He realized he had reacted just a tad too heatedly. He could discipline her, here and now for her impudence, but it would only reinforce the appearance of having lost control of himself. Instead, he continued, I do not fear them. I recognize, intellectually and objectively, that there is a possibility of failure. However small, the risk is there. I simply chose the path most likely to lead to success. This… changes nothing of import, in the long run. It simply rearranges my objectives slightly.

As my master says, said the spirit. He thought he sensed a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and furrowed his brows, refusing to rise to her bait.

At last, he reached the chambers. He paused to collect himself before entering, taking a second to put on his calmest, most benevolent face, to put his mind in the space of a goodly ruler about to address an unfortunate setback.

Opening the doors, he strode into the private chambers, where, much as he had expected, the four were already assembled. Ulquiorra stood and bowed like an automaton, and Lanza did the same, although he more resembled a pup, eager to please. His devotion was a curious thing to Aizen, and part of him found it distasteful- but then again, it was exactly what he had wanted in his servants, so who was he to complain?

Halibel and Neliel stood up, too, but settled for bowing only their heads. The former remained as stoic as ever, whereas the latter shot him a smile.

"My council," he said warmly, "it gladdens me to see you all again."

"Lord Aizen," said Halibel, the first to address him, being the most senior and the most powerful of the group. Even now, he had noticed, their old habits died hard. At heart, they were hollows still. "The summons implied a matter of urgency."

"Indeed, my espada," said Aizen calmly, weaving in a hint of remorse into his voice. "As you all know, I take the greatest care to foster the best in my espada."

"Yes, lord," said Lanza eagerly. "You raised us all up and above what we were."

"Yet, even I can err in judgment, it seems," he said with a sigh.

"Lord Aizen?" said Neliel perplexedly.

"I have just been informed of a recent, terrible development," said Aizen, "deeply unfortunate, and, it seems, entirely my own fault."
He would never have shown such weakness from his throne, but to his council, the ones he depended on to stay loyal to him at all costs, he had to appear human, flawed, likeable.

"What happened, lord?" Halibel said keenly. Save for Ulquiorra, she was the most composed, and probably the one who had the best idea of why they had been called.

"Treason," Aizen said, with just a pinch of melodrama in his voice. "I have been too trusting, it seems. Too… kind."

"Treason?!" exclaimed Lanza. "Who dared?"

"As you all recall, I was forced to… discipline Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," he said with another sigh. "I had hoped he would take the opportunity to learn from his failure, but…" He shook his head. "Unfortunately, he chose instead to steal from my science labs a design of vital strategic importance. He has now escaped to the world of the living, where he is in all likeliness already cavorting with the oppressive regime of the Gotei Thirteen."

Lanza's expression twisted into a mask of fury. "That bastard! This is how he repays you for your mercy?"

"I know," said Aizen. "It would perhaps have been more pertinent to execute him, but I hoped… I hoped for better."

"You weren't wrong to be kind, lord," said Neliel firmly. "He was wrong to turn his back on you instead."

"What was stolen, lord?" said Halibel perceptively, and Aizen noted once again that whereas the others were caught up frothing about the traitor- or in Ulquiorra's case, frothing very quietly on the inside of his mind, if at all- she was asking the right questions. It was a trait both admirable and potentially dangerous.

"A plan of great importance for the future," said Aizen. "It can be replicated well enough, but now the Gotei is bound to learn of its contents."

"The Gotei forces are stationed in Karakura," said Ulquiorra, "which means Grimmjow likely headed there. He has no access to the Soul Society itself, and would not know how to find it. Send us there at once, and we will devastate them and retrieve what is yours."

That was so like Ulquiorra, Aizen thought, devoid of care for anything except the directly practical. If he had been possessed of an imagination, he might have been the perfect servant.

"We must not act rashly," said Aizen. "An all-out attack might escalate the war to a stage neither side is prepared for yet. The plan proceeds. But, I agree that something must be done."

"What was the plan, lord?" asked Halibel. "If I do not overstep in asking, that is."

Aizen paused briefly. To tell them or not to tell them… well, his enemies knew, so they might as well. It was no great secret, and the ultimate purpose of the key was not something he needed to disclose. It might further cement their trust in him.
"I had kept it from you because it was incomplete," he said after some deliberation, "but you are right to ask, Halibel. After all, I ask you to risk life and limb for me, so you deserve to know why."

"We know our place, lord," said Lanza.

"As I know you do," Aizen said with a nod, "but I shall let you in on the secret all the same. In Karakura, there lies a…. unique opportunity. Using knowledge taken from the Gotei themselves, I will create an item of great significance, absolutely essential to the fulfilment of my plan. Using ten thousand spiritually enriched souls, I will forge a key; a key whose power will let me reach complete dominion of both the Soul Society and Hueco Mundo. Once that is done, my victory shall be complete. The Gotei, knowing this, will doubtless defend the city to the last."

"Ten… thousand people?" said Lanza, blinking.

"Yes, Lanza," Aizen said reassuringly, "ten thousand people, in exchange for an eternity of peace and prosperity. A very small price to pay in the long run, wouldn't you agree?"

The espada seemed doubtful for a second, so Aizen added, "Tell me, Lanza… how many have you killed in your time?"

"…Thousands," said the espada quietly. "Mostly hollows, but still…"

"You did so out of necessity. As will I, Lanza. Believe me, this is not something I have decided to do lightly, or on a whim. I would never even consider it, if not for the fact that we face such a powerful institution- one that hates us all and would see us destroyed."

"Of course, lord," said Lanza hastily. "I beg your forgiveness. I did not mean to seem as if I questioned your wisdom."

But he did, Aizen thought, and made a mental note to shame him further for his past at a later time. Lanza had a conscience, and it was as potent a weapon as Aizen could have asked for.

"It is nothing to be concerned about," Aizen said, in his most fatherly voice. "I value your input, and if any of you have any questions, feel free to ask them of me. I will not turn away a member of my council."

"You are right to say we should not act rashly, lord," Halibel said, "but ought we do anything at all? You said the plans were replicable. If they are in enemy hands, then it is too late to attempt to retrieve them. We might be better off holding back and adjusting to the change in circumstance."

"A course of action with a wisdom of its own," said Aizen approvingly. He had considered this already, himself, but found that… he did not want to. What he wanted, in fact, was some good, old-fashioned retribution.

"Yes indeed, many would consider inaction cowardice, insecurity, but you are correct. A retaliatory attack might gain us nothing at all and risk valuable fighters for intelligence already lost to the enemy. You are indeed correct that inaction may be advisable."

Halibel nodded, recognizing the compliment. She was by far the least impressionable of the council, and if Aizen didn't know she was desperately committed to the safety and stability his reign provided, he might not have trusted her on this council in the first place.

"But as it stands, I rule over a colourful mess of arrancar and hollows," said Aizen, "and although my power is vast, Grimmjow's open disobedience and my own lack of a response might convince some of the more foolish members under my rule to rise up in turn. I know the wisdom of caution, but many of my subjects, unfortunately, do not. I must appear strong, or I will not command the respect I need."

"Is it even known, lord?" asked Lanza. "What happened? Grimmjow is gone, but that doesn't say much."

"I'm afraid word may have gotten out already," Aizen lied casually. "Perhaps some of Szayel's subordinates spoke unwisely, or perhaps some of the arrancar I dismissed when Szayel approached me lingered closer than they should have. Very soon, I expect, the palace will be abuzz with rumour of how Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez pulled a fast one on the new king of Las Noches- and rumours can be as deadly as a blade to the heart."

If they weren't abuzz, they very soon would be; he would see to that.

"A show of force, maybe?" said Neliel. "An attack designed to cause some havoc. Fast and hard, in and out quickly. Destroy a few things, maybe kill some shinigami, and then leave before there is a real chance of escalation."

"A capital suggestion, my quinta" said Aizen warmly. "Yes, something has to be done, and soon. I would like you all to be ready- I will plan an attack myself, and within a week or so, we will strike."

"Yes, lord," said Halibel obediently, and Lanza zealously, while Ulquiorra simply nodded, along with Neliel.

"Just one more thing," said Aizen. "When it does commence… I will want Grimmjow delivered to me. Alive. Not necessarily unharmed, but alive. I will want to mete out punishment to him… personally. I fear I cannot be merciful to him twice."

"It's no less than he deserves, lord," said Lanza keenly. "You can depend on us. At your command, we will retrieve what is yours and bring back the traitor!"

"I know I can depend on you all," said Aizen. "Now, if you'll forgive me, I have other matters to attend to. Don't let me detain you."

Taking a hint, the four espada stood up, and began walking out.

You know what this really is, said a small voice. It was not his zanpakutou, but rather Aizen himself, a small, critical thought protesting his decision.

It's retaliation. I must secure what is mine, and I must maintain morale. I cannot afford to be seen as weak. It will also allow me to test the efficacy of my new arrancar.

It's motivated reasoning, the annoying little voice said, and you know it is. A day ago, you wouldn't have dreamed of a premature attack. All things in due time. You can give all the excuses you want, all the logical reasoning in the world, but you know what it is. You want revenge for Grimmjow daring to defy you, daring to upset your precious order.

I will be victorious! Aizen thought fiercely, and shook his head. This was nonsense. Arguing with his zanpakutou was bad enough, but arguing with himself? That was unworthy. He had made up his mind, and no matter what had caused things to change, he could not afford to second-guess himself at this stage. He was Aizen Sousuke, king of Hueco Mundo, destined overlord of the Soul Society, and one day, soul king. Power would be his. So what if he had been… surprised? He would adapt. It would be a lesson to him. The same mistake would not happen twice. From now on, he would be sure to be more careful in choosing his espada. And when Grimmjow came back, all of them would learn what happened to those who dared betray him…

Briefly, his lips curled up in a cruel smile as he imagined what he would do to that damned little cat. Oh, it would be a display for the ages… but no, no gratuitous revenge fantasies. Save that for when he actually had the little traitor in his hands. Slowly, he stood up. Back to work it was. Szayel, that fool, was bound to need Aizen's help in reconstructing the plan.

---

It was his second session with Meninas, and it was just the same as his first: equally as frustrating as it was fascinating. Uryu hadn't quite taken Bambietta's comments about how powerful the paladin was seriously, at least not as seriously as he should have. The first minute of their training had educated him very thoroughly on just how vast of a difference there was between them.

What Uryu had expected was a skilled quincy, whose experience far outstripped his own and put him at a serious disadvantage. This was technically true, but what he had gotten, Uryu had thought then and thought now, was something more like a godlike figure before which he was little more than an ant.

Meninas McAllon's defence against his attacks was effortless- so effortless, in fact, that she wasn't even using a weapon. With one hand, she would swat away each arrow as if it were nothing. Uryu was skilled enough to realize she wasn't actually so powerful his arrows couldn't physically hurt her, but that she was simply so skilled in the art of reiatsu manipulation that she could bend the spiritual matter of his arrows at will. At first, he had hesitated to fire his bow at what at first glance looked like a very innocent, decidedly feminine woman looking no older than twenty, but that sense of chivalry had, just like his naivete, been forcibly dispelled. His first and second session had been spent chasing her, trying and failing to hit her; the paladin had said she believed in practical training more than theory, and she had so far stuck to it.

He had made some progress, in that he had barely been able to hit her at first, but now that he chased her around Karakura Park in the remote area she had designated for training, he had found that hitting her was rather a futile endeavour. One arm tucked behind her back, she kept a pace just high enough that he could keep up when pushing himself to his limits, her other hand gracefully catching and rerouting each of his projectiles, his arrows harmlessly flying out into the air, disintegrating within seconds of having felt her touch.

The world was a blur, and although Uryu's lungs had begun to burn with the effort, he was furiously determined to continue until he was physically unable to go on. This was a quincy of genuine rank, a bona fide warrior of old, his desires made manifest. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed the frustration. He chased her, dashing over, under, and through the treetops of the park, each single step taking him some twenty yards.

Then, suddenly she stopped running, and although Uryu reacted with lightning speed, he was much too late to stop himself from almost barreling into her. In the moment's time it took him to recover and regain his balance, she put her middle finger behind her thumb, and with a seemingly gentle motion she flicked him across the forehead.

The impact struck him like a speeding truck, and Uryu went flying, sent sailing through the air some twenty yards before he even regained the sense to try to recover. He began to twist himself around to catch his bearings, but he was already too close to the ground. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he slid across a grassy clearing, the pristine white of his uniform becoming soiled with green. He tumbled around for rather longer than he thought was reasonable before finally stopping. He lay still for a few seconds, trying just to breathe. His bow had dispersed, and for a panicked second, he searched for his quincy's cross, feeling relief when he felt its reassuring cold solidity against his palm, the item still held in place by a thin leather strap.

"I'm- I'm sorry, sensei," Uryu gasped, forcing himself up on one knee. This had been rather less dignified than he had hoped- as in, as far removed from dignity as one could get without involving custard pies to one's face- and although he was deeply grateful to have been seen by nobody but his newfound instructor, he was hellbent on continuing. The wandenritter would not be impressed by quitters. Everything he had, or nothing at all.

"I'm re-ready," he said, not standing up so much as wobbling without entirely falling over. "Again, if you please."

His voice was little more than a rasp, his lungs still having trouble entertaining the idea that air had a place inside them, and everything seemed out of focus; his tutor seemed to be in three places at once, despite his spiritual senses telling him she stood quite still.

"No," Meninas said simply.

"But, sensei," Uryu insisted, his lungs beginning to stabilize enough that he could speak without rasping, "I'm-"

"Finished for the day, I think," said Meninas firmly. "Or, are you questioning your sensei?"

"N-not at all," Uryu said hastily. "I, er, I just wanted you to know that… that I could keep going, if, er, it were necessary."

Meninas nodded. "The spirit is willing, and that is all well and good," she said, slowly coming into focus as Uryu's blurred vision began to stabilize, "but a wise warrior must know his limits. He must know his body well enough to know when enough is enough. No honour is won by harming oneself in training."

Uryu simply nodded back, a little embarrassed. It hadn't occurred to him that he could have been less than impressive by trying too hard.

"What do you think so far?" asked Meninas, motioning for him to come sit down with her by a fallen log. Uryu slumped down, quietly grateful for the rest.

"It is… challenging, sensei."

"It's a polite way of saying you're getting a little fed up with my harsh manhandling of you."

"Not at all, sensei!" Uryu said hurriedly.

"To be fair," said Meninas, ignoring his heartfelt reassurance, "I've only attempted to assess your potential so far. To learn about you, to make sure I know where your limits are, so I can adapt."

Uryu paused to breathe a little; the exercise had been tiring and his lungs and throat were quite sore.

"Is that… how the wandenritter train their initiates, Paladin McAllon?"

"You're very polite," Meninas said appreciatively. "It's not entirely necessary, but it's nice to see young people who know the value of civility. To answer your question: Yes, typically. We are an order of elite fighters, and anyone considered to join our ranks, especially those with potential to rise for leadership, are given specialized training. Each of our initiates serves under a senior knight, responsible for teaching his charge and teaching them well. It is a mark of great honour to train an initiate well, and a mark of shame to fail to do so. When I first joined, I served as a squire to one Sir Slovic, a veteran chevalier. For five years I cleaned his equipment, listened to his words, and fought beside him in battle. Never in our order would you see a class of twenty sitting bored, listening to a teacher drone on about so-and-so, forced to prepare for some inane test written on paper."

"I… see," Uryu said tentatively. She had revealed rather more than he'd expected, but what she had given him, he approved of. They really were knights, then; he recalled that squires learning under a knight was the practice in Europe during the Middle Ages.

"But, you are frustrated with this," said Meninas, changing the topic back. "Do not deny it. You've had to chase after me to no avail for three days, and it has exhausted you without much gain in sight. I've not offered a clear view of what this training will be, what it will look like, or what the end result shall be."

"I am, a little," Uryu admitted guiltily.

"Compared to me, I suspect your view of yourself as a warrior might be very low. After all, next to me, you are as nothing, weak and pitiful."

"Yes, sensei."

"Uryu," Meninas said seriously, looking him in the eye, "just how strong do you believe you are? Compared to any one of our knights?"

"I am sure I could not defeat any of your warriors," said Uryu modestly. "I have a long way to go; I know that."

Meninas chuckled briefly, and smiled.

"Uryu, you are well and far above anyone with the rank of knight. None of our standard soldiers could hope to match you. You are young and inexperienced, but also talented, and for better or worse, born of a strong bloodline. A young man of your age and power would in our order at the very least be on the verge of gaining the rank of chevalier. More than likely, you would probably be eyeing the coveted rank of paladin somewhere down the line. Each rank demands not only power, of course, but experience and wisdom."

"I owe it all to my grandfather," said Uryu, feeling a little awkward at the mention of his bloodline. If half of what his father had said about his late clan was true, Uryu wouldn't want to be compared to them in any way, shape, or form.

"Your respect for your elders does you credit, Uryu," said Meninas approvingly, "but although you have maintained your powers well, your lack of competent mentorship has left your power wanting and your potential poorly developed. I can only imagine where you might be, had your father taught you properly."

"Well… he had a bad experience, is all I can say," Uryu muttered.

Meninas nodded. "Being a quincy is a choice. He chose not to, and that is his right. It was only unfortunate you had to be left behind for it."

"You said… I could be a paladin," Uryu said, eager to steer the conversation away from his family, "somewhere down the line. That I could have strength of a magnitude rivaling yours."

"Yes, so I did. It would take dedication and decades of training, but you have what it takes."

"Decades," Uryu repeated, contemplative.

"Decades," Meninas confirmed. "To some the discipline comes more easily than to others, but there is no shortcut to power. Our grand master is the second most powerful member of our order, and it is something earned not from some inborn genius or special talent, but from talent forged through hard work. Dedication and experience are the most important things of all."

"I'd wager that would be true for those who live forever."

"It is. You, Uryu, can reach heights that rival or even exceed that of the greatest of shinigami. It is yours to grasp, if you would but seize it."

Uryu stood quiet for a moment, and imagined having that kind of strength, imagined having a strength like that of a shinigami captain. The kind of strength that had dwarfed his, to wield that at his fingertips…

"Haschwalth," he said contemplatively, "who could he lose to? Who could defeat your grand master?"

"A good question," said Meninas, and paused herself. "I can think of three people I would favour against him, off the top of my head. Nobody is invincible, you must remember, not even the strongest of us… but generally, he could defeat almost any shinigami. But, I could not see him defeat our king, for one, although his power is comparable. Nor would I see him defeat Captain-commander Yamamoto, although I'd wager he would make the old man sweat. And then there's Aizen Sousuke… now, that'd be an interesting battle. Power alone would not favour him there, but he is quite adaptive and clever, our grand master."

"Your king, Yamamoto, and Aizen," Uryu muttered, marvelling at the kind of power Haschwalth had to command. "That is not a very large selection of people whose strength outstrips his."

"When I say power," Meninas clarified, "be aware that I account for everything- raw power in terms of what you call reishi, but also skill, experience, wits, and innovation, one's ability to think on one's feet… in terms of power, we differ from the shinigami. We still have mortal bodies, and although we have learned to reverse aging, we are still vulnerable in ways that they are not. We cannot, like a shinigami, take one grievous mortal wound after another and recover. A blade to the heart will surely kill you, as will a ruptured aorta, or a crushed skull. What makes our grand master so powerful- or any of us, really- is the mastery of our craft, our command of reiatsu and our superior perception of it. We are powerful not because we can endure a blow that would slay a lesser man, but because we can anticipate it and move out of its way."

"Is that why you favour armour, then? To protect yourselves."

"In part," said Meninas, "but also out of tradition, I suppose."

Uryu paused again, thinking of what she had said. Mere humans, as mortal and killable as anyone else, outstripping the raw power of a captain simply out of skill and dedication… the thought was seductive. But no, he wouldn't let himself be taken in by this, not so easily.

"I see," he said at last.

"Tell me, Uryu, how much did your grandfather teach you?"

"What you've seen me use so far," said Uryu. "I was young when he… passed."

"He never spoke to you of the old way, then?"

"The… old way?" said Uryu confusedly. "No, I can't say that he has. I'm not sure what you mean, sensei."

"Blut," said Meninas simply, in flawless German.

"Blut? Blood?"

She nodded. "Blut is the ancient method of the quincies, first discovered by His Majesty, himself, during the very first quincy-shinigami war, hundreds of years ago. This, you must learn and master, Uryu."

"Blut… well, what does it do? How does it work?"

"It is an expansion of the basics of the quincy method. Go on, I'll demonstrate. Hold your hand out, and summon your bow."

Uryu obeyed, extending his arm. With minimal effort, he let reishi flow through his body, and in a second's time, his bow had formed.

"Now, how did you do that?"

Had anyone else asked that, he would have considered it a stupid question.

"I manipulate reiatsu from the surrounding areas to empower my own core energy, and as I will it, the bow takes form, anchored by my cross."

"Exactly," Meninas said, sounding enthusiastic. "To command your own energy, and inanimate energy from around you, that is at our core. But with blut, you take the same principle and bend the energy not to something external, like a bow and arrow, but inside yourself. You can use it to protect yourself against harm- that's blut vene- to make your skin thicker and your body more resilient, or you can channel it outward again- that's blut arterie- for a devastating increase in power."

"That… sounds incredibly dangerous," Uryu said, blinking. "Energy going inside you? More than what your body is used to handling? A single mistake could… I mean, at best it could sever the points that cause reiatsu to flow, and at worst it could tear you apart."

"It is dangerous," said Meninas, "much like driving is a very dangerous endeavour if you do not know how to operate a vehicle. Luckily, precision is what being a quincy is all about."

"I… see," Uryu said, trying to take it all in. It was a deeply conter-intuitive thought; all he had known about quincy method had been about manipulating energy from elsewhere, outward. To run it inwardly… and this was supposed to come naturally to the Wandenritter?
"Tell me," he said after some deliberation, "can all of your members use this?"

"Every member of our order is required to be at least proficient with it. Few are those who are not at least competent with it. You have to understand, it's as basic to our approach as your method is to you."

"Blut vene," Uryu said, as if tasting the words, trying them out, "and blut arterie."

"Yes. I should mention, the further up the ranks of the elite you go, the more likely they are to rely more on arterie than on vene."

"Why is that? I would have thought a body like ours would benefit from shinigami-like endurance."

"The better you are, the less you need to defend yourself. It's all about skill, you see. If you know how to avoid every attack that comes your way, then attack power is far more useful. Nobody abandons it, of course, but most of our very best use it only rarely."

"I see… sensei, will you teach me this, then?"

"Maybe in the future. It would be dangerous to attempt even the basics without first perfecting your grasp of reiatsu control. No shortcuts, young squire."

Feeling a little disappointed at having had such a morsel dangled in front of him only to be denied it, Uryu nevertheless said, "Of course, sensei."

"I think that about does it for today," said Meninas. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Uryu."

"Of course, sensei," Uryu repeated. Still weary from his training, he sat by the log, watching her leave.

Young squire. Whether she had called him that deliberately or not, he couldn't help but feel… interested. Intrigued. Briefly, he imagined himself in plated armour, shining and bright, sworn to a noble lord and an even nobler ideal…

It was a child's fantasy, wasn't it? But it had been his grandfather's choice. It would have been his life if not for his clan. Uryu, himself, had no clan to hold him back and had a city to defend. Meninas McAllon… he wasn't sure what was more striking: herself or the knightly ideals she represented.

---

Grimmjow's skin was crawling with frustration. He wasn't sure how long he had been kept in this cell; in his mind that time period was neatly filed under a general, vague sense of 'too long'. Those shinigami assholes! He had given them everything, given them all they could ask for on a silver platter- and here they were, being complete dicks about it for no reason. They both hated Aizen, so what was the fucking holdup?

He struggled against the magical golden chains wrapped around his chest. It was futile, but Grimmjow had never let anything as petty as reality get in the way of his frustrations. That tiny interrogator woman had sat there repeating the same damned things over and over for hours on end, and although she had left some time ago, being alone, ignored, and shackled was hardly any better.

"Assholes!" he yelled at the room in general. "Dickless fuckhead shinigami morons! Fucking retards! I gave you all you wanted, didn't I? Fucking idiots!"

Insults were all he had left, and deep down he knew it. Right now, he was at their mercy, and through his own will, no less. He had done his best to do something about his situation, to change it for the better… and here he was, where he'd started: sitting still with nothing to do but brood and rage impotently. Fuck!

Then, suddenly, the door opened. It was the redhead from before, a stern look on her face. Grimmjow gave her his very best glare, which would have been a lot more intimidating if he hadn't been powerless and chained.

"Espada," she said simply, and sat down opposite him. Grimmjow remained silent, gritting his teeth.

"Do you know my name, espada?" she said, when no answer was given.

"Don't know, don't care," Grimmjow said flatly.

"I am Captain Erza Scarlet, commander of the mission to Karakura Town," she said, placing her elbows on the table, staring him in the eye, "and I'll get right to the point-"

"Get me free and fix my arm, or fuck off," Grimmjow snarled. "It ain't my fault you people are too goddamn stupid to recognize a common enemy when you sees one, dumbass."

Erza took a deep breath. "You will listen to me-"

"No, you listen!" Grimmjow snapped, a day's worth of anger and frustration boiling over. "I fucking hate Aizen! He made me a cripple and shot me down, fucked over all my hard work! We got a common cause, and if your fuckin' shinigami rules weren't so stupidly complicated, you'd see I got no reason to double-cross any of ya-"

Erza's hand shot out and grabbed him by the hair, and in an instant, she had slammed his face into the table. Standing up, she held onto his hair, pushing his face onto the tabletop.

This, Grimmjow understood. A show of force, to show you who was what in the situation, who was top dog and who wasn't. This, he could adapt to.

"Feels good, don't it?" he snarled, a chuckle sneaking into his voice, which was somewhat muffled from his jaw being pushed against the hard table. "Feels good letting it out, right? To just thump that bastard hollow right good and proper, 'cause you hate him. That, I get."

His snarl turned into a grin.

"That's the thing, bitch. You think we're savages, but underneath it all, you're savages too. You pretend you ain't, you dress up in these stupid fuckin' layers of civilization, in all these rules and restraints, as if wearin' a uniform makes you any less of a thug, but at the end of the day your fuckin' Gotei is just a king-sized gang-"

Erza yanked his head up, and slammed his head into the table again, before yanking him upright and lowering her head level with his, staring him in the eye. Their faces were just inches apart.

"I didn't come here for a philosophical debate," she said coldly. "Now, you're going to shut up, or I'm going to hit you till you do. I'm going to talk, you're going to listen, and you'll speak when spoken to. Nod if you understand, arrancar."

Grimmjow grinned again, and slowly nodded.

"Right," said Erza, and sat down opposite Grimmjow again. "Let's talk, then.

"You're a prisoner of war, and an unstable and dangerous one, at that. Your most valuable bargaining chip, the files you stole from Aizen, you've already given us. The only reason you're still alive is because I've decided not to see you killed. That's me, and the rest of the command is way less merciful. The only thing stopping you from being purged is me. Is that clear?"

Grimmjow nodded slowly.

"We don't trust you, and we have no reason to. You're a monster, and although I don't personally know you, I've no doubt you've done horrible things across your life as a hollow. You've probably killed enough people to deserve an execution."

"Hell yeah," said Grimmjow, sounding satisfied. Erza's hand twitched, balling into a fist.

"If you weren't helpless and imprisoned, I wouldn't hesitate a second in purging you myself, even if you're crippled and weakened."

"Same."

"Another quip, and I'll break your nose," Erza said coldly. "Because I'm a naïve, idealistic goodie two-shoes who's too optimistic for her own good, I've decided to let you live, even though my colleagues have no interest in you. But listen closely: there are conditions, and they're non-negotiable. You accept all of them, or else."

"Or else what?" Grimmjow snorted. "You just admitted you won't kill me. You could torture me, I guess, but you don't got the stones. Even if you did, there ain't no pain the likes of you could make me feel that I ain't felt already."

"You'd be surprised," Erza said darkly, "but no, I won't kill you. But the thing is, arrancar, I won't kill you, but I don't have to save you, either."

"Fuck you mean?" Grimmjow said confusedly.

"I'll just set you free," Erza said and shrugged. "I'm sure Aizen would love a chat with you. Or, of course, the moment you did something wrong- like kill a human, for instance- we could come find you and kill you just the same."

"You can't do that!" Grimmjow burst out with infuriated disbelief. "I fuckin' surrendered!"

"I can. We've got rules about how we treat prisoners of war- although they're not very nice- but none of them say we have to keep people locked up if we don't want to."

"Hell the fuck no," Grimmjow snarled, leaning forward over the table. "That ain't gonna happen, 'cause you ain't gonna do it, red! You're a fuckin' softie deep down, and me dyin'… no, you don't want that on your conscience, do ya? Even if I'm a murderin' son of a bitch!"

"I don't want to kill you," Erza said neutrally, "but I am not obligated to save your sorry hide from anything."

Her tone was completely dispassionate. It wouldn't have been right to call it cold, because chill would have implied personal investment. Grimmjow went from furious to quiet in an instant, his well-honed survival instincts kicking into gear. If she didn't get on his side, he realized, he might just have to answer to Aizen, and that would not end well.

He cocked his head, looking into her visage, a strange expression passing across his face. Grimmjow was good at calling a bluff. Hollows, like most animals in nature, preferred not to fight one another unless one had a clear edge over the other. Fighting was a deadly risk for anyone involved, and even if a body won, they might have gotten weak doing it, now vulnerable to other predators. Posturing and threats, and knowing how to read them; that had been an essential skill. Grimmjow had been good at it, or he wouldn't have climbed as far as he had done.

Looking into Erza's face, he saw something much like stone, unflinching and unyielding. Her eyes bored into his, sharp and merciless.

"You really mean it, don't ya?" said Grimmjow, in his most quiet tone since he had entered custody, all the rage and frustration discarded in favour of finding a way to preserve his life. "You'd leave me to rot against the likes of Aizen, even knowing what he's like."

"I would," Erza said firmly. "I wouldn't enjoy it, but I would."

"Hell," Grimmjow said, sounding impressed, "and here I thought I was a good judge of character. Maybe you ain't so soft after all."

"No, I am," Erza said, shaking her head at him. "By your standards, I'm sure I'm as soft as any leader of the Gotei ever will be. Even my fellow captains think so."

"Then, why'd you throw me to the wolves? If life is precious and all that shit, why?"

"Because you are a threat," Erza said, steel in her voice, "to my subordinates and to my friends. To the people I hold dear. I'm not afraid of you, not now and not when you were strong enough to pummel me. But if somebody wound up dead because of you, because I was too careless with my prisoner, then that would be my responsibility. I don't like killing people, or even causing someone's death indirectly, but if it comes down to my family or the monster in front of me, there's no question which one matters more. Next to them, you're worthless. Next to them, I'd sacrifice you in a heartbeat."

Grimmjow leaned back, surprised with himself for how much she had impressed him. There had been a hardness in her, the kind that would have befitted any strong hollow. Brief and tainted by the soppy weakness of a shinigami's solidarity for the powerless, but there had been power there.

"Right…" he muttered after a while, "say I don't wanna die."

"I have to be absolutely sure," Erza said firmly. "If I am to let you live, I have to make sure you can't hurt any of my comrades. That's why these conditions are non-negotiable. Is that understood?"

"Right, right," he muttered. "Lay it on me, then. Go on."

Erza nodded. "We are going to place a specialized kido on you, one that will limit your power. It will have a built-in command that will, upon the utterance of a certain word, force you to your knees. It will be known to everyone here. You will be kept under lock and key until we've learned all we can from you, at which point we'll consider- if you've been cooperative and useful- allowing you certain freedoms."

"Fuckin' hell!" Grimmjow spat. "You wanna make me a beaten dog? Why don't ya get me a leather collar while you're at it?"

"You'll take what you get, or fend for yourself."

There was no room for disagreement in her voice. Inwardly, Grimmjow swore.

"Right… I'll be a good boy," he said, rolling his eyes. "Fuckin' fine. Cunt." He muttered the last words under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Anyway," said Grimmjow, quickly moving on before she could take further offense, "if I'm a good boy and I learn how to play fetch and all that shit, will you help me out? Get my strength back? I'll kick some real ass if you only let me, red."

"That will entirely depend on you," Erza said coolly, "and calling your jailors rude names is not a good start."

"Well ex-cuuse me, princess," Grimmjow muttered, seething with resentment. He was torn. On the one hand, he hated it, passionately- being made the bitch of these shinigami, collared and powerless, unable to improve his situation by any method he knew well. On the other hand, he was very, very keen on not dying, and not facing Aizen's wrath- which might very well be worse. There were things to fear more than death; Grimmjow knew that too well.

"Do we have a deal?" Erza said resolutely, each word like a hammer's blow. "You have one opportunity here and now. No takebacks, no second chances."

"Fuck…" Grimmjow growled.

"Am I to take that as a, 'No'? Very well. I'll be sure to get the form for your release-"

She stood up as if to leave the room, and Grimmjow quickly cut in.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm your shit! I didn't fuckin' say no, did I?"

"I didn't hear a yes."

Damn that woman. How could somebody this weak, this stupid and delusional, have this much steel in her?

"All right, all right, I get it!" Grimmjow snapped. "You got yourself a fuckin' deal, okay?"

Erza smiled, and Grimmjow's face turned into a furious sneer.

"I look forward to working with you, arrancar. Who knows? In the fullness of time, you may find a new kind of purpose working for us."

"Don't fuckin' count on it!" Grimmjow snarled as she walked out. He roared out loud at the door as it closed. Fuck! What had he just gotten himself into? He had just agreed to, essentially, be her bitch… and that was the best deal he was going to get, it seemed. Fucking hell!

---

"GETSUGA TENSHOU!"

The crescent surged through the air, supercharged and with a black tint to its edges. Lisa took the hit head on, her mask empowering her the same as Ichigo's, and with a firm swing of her own, she cut the attack in two. It exploded, sending her reeling, but she recovered, swinging through the air and landing on her feet.

"Damn," Ichigo said, his voice reverberating like a hollow's through the white bone of his mask, "this thing is-"

The mask shattered, disintegrating into nothingness.

"-pretty damn good while it lasts," Ichigo said irritably. "That's what, five seconds? I barely even got off a Getsuga."

"Seven seconds, actually!" Mashiro said cheerily, being the second of the visored to oversee his training for the day.

"Seven seconds…" Ichigo muttered, reminding himself that he was in fact quite lucky to be alive at all, and that he ought to count his blessings.

"Enough for today," said Lisa dismissively, sheathing her blade and walking toward the two of them. Ichigo wanted to protest, but had learned not to; when they said enough, they meant it.

"…Right, then," said Ichigo.

"You're doing fine," said Lisa. He was sure she had meant to sound reassuring, but she had something naturally dismissive in her voice that made praise feel like criticism.

"Seven seconds, though…" said Ichigo.

"For a first session? More than fine," insisted Lisa. "Nearly all of us didn't do much better than that."

"Except me," said Mashiro, a bit of smugness working its way into her natural cheer.

"Yes, except you. It's a shame we can't all be freaks of nature," Lisa said, rolling her eyes. The two would banter, Ichigo had realized, as only very old friends could. Teasingly, Mashiro stuck her tongue out, and Lisa smiled back at her.

"How'd it feel, though?" Lisa said, turning back to Ichigo. "You're getting somewhere, that's clear."

"It… slips away almost as soon as I get hold of it," said Ichigo, frowning. "It's like trying to hang on to a bowl of jelly, only without the bowl."

Lisa snorted. "Sounds about right. They're slippery, miserable bastards, the hollows, and they don't give you anything you don't force them to give. But, it's very much worth it if you're looking for a fight."

"Yes…" Ichigo said ponderously. "That attack I just sent felt so, so much stronger than usual. Like…"

"Like it had been hurled by somebody much bigger than you," said Lisa, "isn't that right? It feels that way in the beginning. Even more so for you, I'd wager, what with your… condition, and all. It takes some getting used to. You can easily wind up throwing an attack much stronger than you meant to."

"Yeah… actually, I kinda did," Ichigo confirmed.

"The hard part is behind you," said Lisa with a nod. "From here on, it'll be easier. Not easy, mind you, but easier. Keep at it, and you'll learn to focus that hollow into something useful. You'll be stronger than most for as long as you wear it."

Ichigo nodded. "Yeah, well… thanks."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "We're not much for soppy gestures here, you know."

"I am!" Mashiro cheered, eagerly raising her hand. "If you want to sincerely thank me from the bottom of your heart, you totally can!"

"Uh… sure," Ichigo said awkwardly. "I-"

"That's enough of that, you greedy little gremlin," said Lisa. "Don't milk the newbie for praise."

"But I deserve it! Just because you're all like, casual and too-cool-for-appreciation humble doesn't mean I have to be!"

"Anyway…" said Ichigo, feeling a little lost as the two bickered, "I was wondering one thing, actually."

"What about?" said Lisa, her voice a bit sharp, although mostly it had carried over from her complaints at her green-haired companion.

"Where… did you guys come from?"

"Well," said Lisa, "one day my dad gave my mom a very special hug, because they loved each other very much, and nine months later-"

"Right, whatever," Ichigo said and shrugged. "None of my business; I get it."

"Come on, Lisa," said Mashiro. "It's okay if he knows we were vice-captains and such, isn't it? It's not like he's a stranger anymore, right?"

"Mashiro, you airhead," Lisa grumbled. "You know how Shinji feels about this stuff!"

"Shinji can go eat an aging slice of cheese!"

"Well, as vicious an insult as that was," Ichigo said dryly, "I'm not really surprised. I kind of… guessed a few things. You were associates of Urahara's, which is a bit of a tell in itself. You're strong and experienced, and knowledgeable in the shinigami arts. You've got zanpakutou, and that alone marks you as shinigami."

"Former shinigami," said Lisa. "It's an occupation, not a state of being. To have powers isn't the same as following an idea attached to them."

"Got it," said Ichigo.

"Why do you wonder, anyway?" said Lisa.

"I mean…" Ichigo murmured, "I put my life in all your hands. Kinda still do. Wouldn't you want to know a bit more?"

"Fair," Mashiro chirped. "I was vice-captain to grumpy old Kensei, who was captain of ninth."

"And I was vice-captain of eighth under Kyouraku Shunsui," said Lisa. "Now, your next question will be, 'What happened,' and that's not something most of us like to talk about, so listen good."

"Sure," said Ichigo.

"Aizen happened, basically. The eight of us got lured out somewhere desolate, and that bastard did… something. We all got a hollow growing inside us, and if not for Urahara, we'd have suffered the same fate as you. The Gotei was set to kill us all, and that was the best deal we could have gotten at that stage. For his troubles, he got the blame for it and had to run off. A hundred years ago, this happened. We've mostly hung out here since then."

"Well… damn," Ichigo muttered, briefly considering it. Urahara. How much had he lost? He'd gone out on a limb to save these people, only to wind up taking the fall? A hundred years of being in hiding? All of them having left a whole life behind, wrenched away from positions of power, friends, and family…

No wonder they were a bit strange. No wonder they were secretive. No wonder they weren't trusting.

"It's okay, really," said Mashiro cheerily. "You get used to it. Life's not bad here in Karakura."

"Do you miss it?" Ichigo blurted out, realizing as he spoke the words that he may or may not have crossed a line in doing so.

"…I don't really think about it that way," said Lisa after a pause. "It's been so long. Sure, we had it hard the first few years. Lots of people… we'd never see again, you know. But, we had each other, and that wasn't nothing. It's been long enough that most people we left behind are probably dead now, anyway."

The matter-of-fact way she said it twisted Ichigo's heart a little. He was not by nature sentimental, but his recent brush with death- or rather, something worse than that- had left him thinking of what mattered in life. Friends and family was pretty far up the list.

"I see…" he said, not sure what else to say.

"It's not worth dwelling on. We can't go back. We made our peace with that a long time ago."

"Yeah, um…" Ichigo said awkwardly, "what with the…"

"Trigger-happy, conservative, authoritarian regime that's been known to put people in labs and do things to them we'd never wish on our worst enemies," said Lisa frankly, "we could figure out how they felt about hollow hybrids, and we noticed enough about the quincy hunts to make sure we'd never consider revealing ourselves. I'll be dead before I'm somebody's guinea pig."

"Yeah. That."

"I mean, it was nice, though," said Mashiro, sounding unusually thoughtful. "It was a nice place at times. It was… home."

"It was," said Lisa with a nod. "We all have things we miss. But, none of us can afford to live in the past, not now and not then."

"But with Aizen out and all," said Ichigo, "with how they are now… if you came forward, don't you think Yamamoto would listen? The Central Forty-six are all dead, and for all I know they haven't been replaced yet. They're in pretty dire straits. If you ever had a chance, now is it."

"Who says we'd want in?" said Lisa sharply.

"Is it really true?" said Mashiro.

Ichigo nodded. "My aunt is a captain now, and she was considered a traitor. I'm not telling you what to do, but… it's worth thinking about."

"Maybe, maybe not," Lisa said neutrally, "but we've learned not to put much stake in hope."

"How do you live like that?" Ichigo asked.

"Long and well," said Lisa, "and very, very carefully. That's enough story time for today, I think. Tomorrow at seven with Kensei, Ichigo, and he's not nearly as nice as we are."

Ichigo sighed. "All right, sure," he said with a shrug. "See you later, I guess."

As he walked away, Ichigo wondered what would become of the visored. They had seemed very intimidating from the outside, forbidding and dangerous- which they were- but something about them now just seemed a little… tragic to him.

---

Zanpakutou meditation, contrary to popular opinion, did not require a person to sit cross-legged with one's eyes closed, dead to the world. All it required was privacy and some peace and quiet, both of which the far end of Urahara's basement offered. Momo had just finished a rather long guard shift- they had been on full alert since the espada had so dramatically entered- and she had decided to combine a well-earned rest with communication of an important sort. She had neglected it as of late, and although she had a good excuse in the form of intensely important military duty, she still felt a little bit guilty. Leaned back against a rock, made comfortable enough to sit on by a kido-fashioned energy barrier acting as a cushion, Momo sat with her palms rested on the ground, staring out into space. She had not quite entered Tobiume's realm, although she saw into it quite clearly from where she sat.

It was, like Tobiume herself, a place both eerie and enchanting. It had the look of a peach tree garden, if it had been painted by an absurdist. There were trees, but their trunks were a pale blue and their leaves blossomed in all the colours of the rainbow. There was fruit, too, but its shape defied description, never the same one moment as it was the one before. The garden seemed to stretch forever, although Momo knew it was just a loop, like a circle. In its midst there sat Tobiume herself, levitating mid-air. Blue, elegant robes flowed about her tall, elegant figure, flapping lazily as if they were subject to the whims of a gentle underwater current. Tobiume leaned forward, resting her chin on the ridge of her hands, and her hands on nothing.

"Hello, my old friend," said Momo, smiling slightly.

"There is no need to greet me as if we were strangers," said Tobiume, her voice reverberating gently. It was a little trick she liked to do when she was at ease; she liked the sense of mystery it brought. "I am always with you. I always watch."

"Still, I haven't made time for you lately," said Momo, "even though I should…"

"War is as war is," Tobiume said indifferently, "but of course, you speak not entirely out of genuine concern, although you would like to think you do."

"What?" said Momo, her cheeks flushing a little, "I'm not- I'm not trying to-"

She resented the accusation, but stopped herself when she realized the truth of it.

"I… yes, I wanted more," she admitted. "I wish I had more time for you."

"Because I am your strength. A strength not yet fully grown. You desire me," said the spirit, a mischievous smile on her face.

"I'm… frustrated. With my progress," said Momo honestly. "I developed all this magic, yet I'm almost back to square one. I worked so hard to learn your ways inside and out, yet for all I know I'll never get all of your power. And now with the war… I'm too busy to even put the right effort in."

"So, what will you do about that, then?" Tobiume demanded playfully. "Will you sit on your posterior complaining, or do you have a plan?"

"I said I'm frustrated, not that I've stopped trying," Momo said, a bit of firmness sneaking its way into her voice. "Reflection is not the same thing as self-pity. Is that not true?"

"True, true," Tobiume said with a dismissive shrug. "Forgive my teasing, my master."

"It's fine," said Momo with a smile. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't test me. It's what a zanpakutou is supposed to do, after all."

"Indeed," the spirit concurred.

"I just… I sometimes feel inadequate," Momo said, making the confession with an ease that could only come from the bond between blade and wielder, between two entities sharing a deeply special connection. "I was fooled by Aizen…"

"As was everyone else," Tobiume reminded her.

"I was fooled by him, and Erza… Erza, I love serving under her, but I still feel like I'm not good enough. I want to pull my own weight. I don't want her to save me. I want… I want to be able to save her. If it's needed," Momo added the last part hastily; she could hardly imagine a time when Erza would need to be bailed out by her.

"She is your heart's desire, after all," said Tobiume, and smirked. "I do not disapprove. A sense of focus does a body good."

"Er. Yes. Um…" Momo said awkwardly. "I mean, she's… she's a great leader. And friend."

"Tell me, Momo," said Tobiume, "do you truly believe you will never achieve the full extent of my power?"

"I, er, I mean… yes. No. I mean, no! I can- I can do it."

Tobiume laughed. It was a long, echoing sound that would leave Momo's head aching if it continued for too long. When she finished, she said, "You do not sound too confident."

"With time. Maybe," Momo added. Too much confidence would be an insult; it would be taking the spirit for granted.

"You already know how to make me manifest in your world, oh master. Is that not a sign of a relationship taken well far? Is that not a sign of as close a bond as one could ask for?"

"Short of bankai." Just speaking the words made her ill at ease. It was power of a kind that she often dreamed of, yet at the same time feared. The trials and tribulations it would take to reach it…

"I will tell you, with some caution," said Tobiume, "that you are on the right path. You have been a kind and diligent master, and you have listened well. Perhaps too kind- but that, oh, that isn't for me to meddle with. Have you any notion of what such power would look like?"

"Erza can summon weapons, and her bankai summons armour," said Momo thoughtfully, "and Captain Kuchiki, his bankai is a tremendously larger version of his shikai, isn't it? I know little Shirou turns a small ice dragon to a very big ice dragon. So… with the kind of power I have, I suppose I could make very large explosions?"

Tobiume scoffed. "Surely you know I am subtler than that, oh master."

"I was just joking a little," said Momo hastily.

"As it happens, that would be an option," said Tobiume haughtily, "but I could do so much more. Oh, the things you could do with your magic…" She smiled mysteriously. "But, that is for you to find out."

"Of course," said Momo.

Tobiume's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Master," she said, and extended a hand. It reached through the space of the zanpakutou's absurd garden and into reality, its digits slender and bony.

"Tobiume?" said Momo, hesitantly raising a hand to meet the spirit's, although not quite touching yet.

"Touch me and see," urged the spirit.

Momo paused for a second, then steeled herself. This was what she wanted. Why should she hold back? Decisively, she moved her hand forward to take Tobiume's. However, as soon as their fingers touched, the world around her ceased to exist, replaced by a flash of white.

What happened next couldn't be described in terms of visuals. Momo felt. A swell of sensations washed over her, each one crystal-clear despite lasting but a second.

She felt great power, as mighty as it was intricately complex. She felt an enormous construct, arcane in nature, one that dwarfed her own efforts. She sensed a sea of magical force, where she was like a speck of dust before the mighty ocean. She sensed ruby-red raw force, boiling with carefully controlled power. She felt vibration, a great pattern of harmony as complex as the Universe itself- harmony that, she knew, was tremendously dangerous and tremendously destructive. She sensed the power of her bankai, of Tobiume's true nature. She felt the bitter wrath of the wraith underneath, the fury of her zanpakutou when it had been angered. She felt the sensation of her enemies felled before her, burnt to a crisp, frozen in time, or wiped from existence. She sensed a power great enough to put her on par with any captain.

Then the moment was over, and Momo fell back, leaned against the rock, taking in a sharp breath. Slowly, Tobiume withdrew her hand.

"Tell me, master," she said, staring into Momo's eyes, "did you like what you felt?"

"I… yes," Momo said, realizing it was true. Power so terrible should inspire caution, and it did, but feeling it for the first time… she knew she wanted it.

"Then work," said the spirit mysteriously. "Learn to sing in harmony with me, and that power will be yours."

Harmony.

"But…"

"The key," said the spirit, ignoring Momo's objection, "is the blade, as always. Learn to use it right, and nothing is beyond you."

And just like that, Tobiume was gone, having retreated back into her sanctum. Momo blinked, staring out into space. Harmony. Power. Bankai. It was within her grasp. She just had to find it.

Just how that last part would happen, of course, she was still a bit blurry on.

---

Captain-commander Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryuusai sunk into his office chair. He had had a busy day, made no easier by the revelation given to him early in the morning. Aizen's audacity knew no bounds, and it had made the idea of failure even more unthinkable. All throughout the day, directing and organizing the Gotei in their preparation for the upcoming war, he had gone back and forth with himself on what to do about this news.

Well, he knew what to do, practically speaking, although it was much the same as before. Organize a defense. Prepare battle plans. Allocate military resources where needed. All of these things were necessary already. No, what he was torn about was whether to disturb His Majesty about this.

Yamamoto alone knew the true nature of the Soul King in His resplendent grandeur. Aside from the royal guard- naturally, as they guarded the king with their lives- he alone had seen the king in person, received a charge and instructions from Him; only he knew what Aizen was up against.

Yamamoto had, in his millennium of service and a life longer still, never seen any inkling of a deity. He had never seen the hand of a god or gods at work, nor had he ever believed in it. Yes, there were no gods that Yamamoto knew of, but there was a greater being. There was a higher purpose. There was the King of Souls, a being whose power was as close to a god's as Yamamoto had ever seen. No, he did not fear the idea of Aizen facing off with the king. Even if he could kill all of the royal guard- no mean feat in itself, but if anyone could, it would be that upstart- he would have to face off with a being so far above him that no amount of deception, intelligence, and tactical skill would save him. He would stand face-to-face with the father of reapers, the one who had bestowed upon them the power to pass on souls in the first place.

Yamamoto did not fear what Aizen would do if he reached the palace. What Yamamoto feared was failure, and the immeasurable shame it would bring him. The king had given him a purpose a thousand years ago, a purpose he had since lived for with every fiber of his being, every last spiritual particle. He had taken the wreckage of a world torn apart by violence, war, mistrust, ancient rivalry, and hate, and he had transformed it into a society of order, strength, and stability. He had brought prosperity and success where there had been poverty and misery. Now, all of it was under threat. The idea of all his work undone, of having failed in the mission given to him by a being so wise as the Soul King… no, it would be unbearable.

That is why he went back and forth on whether to report this or not. Yamamoto was deeply worried, anxious in a way he would never show openly. He did not fear for His Majesty's life, after all. This was by all accounts beneath Him.

But, all the same, He was king, and a king ought to know when brigands were headed to his door. If nothing else, the royal guard ought to prepare, just in case Yamamoto would fail- although he was determined to have died before that happened.

Old muscles groaning with wear and tear, he stood up, and at the press of a button the communications system opened, a large screen lowering down in front of him. He hesitated before calling the line. It was not something to do lightly; contacting the palace was not a frivolous endeavour. In fact, he had not heard a word from it since the last member of the royal guard had been recruited.

Taking a deep breath, he made the call, the signal running cross-dimensionally to the ethereal realm of the King's Palace. He waited for some time, fully aware that His Majesty had a different perception of time, and was at any rate a very busy individual.

Eventually, more quickly than Yamamoto had expected, the screen flickered to life. Yamamoto hadn't dared to hope His Majesty would answer it Himself, and was as such not surprised to see another figure answer. When he realized who it was, though, Yamamoto felt a pang of disappointment.

"Young Yamamoto, is it?" said the form of an aged, decrepit old man. Dressed in a fine, silken robe, he rather gave the impression of an overdressed bum; his face was more wrinkled than a raisin, thin, white sideburns adorned his face, and he looked about as approachable as Yamamoto usually did.

"Abatto," said Yamamoto, nodding to the old man. The ancient soul was His Majesty's equerry, his personal retainer, and was one of the few people in existence old enough to call Yamamoto 'young'.

"Be quick about it," said Abatto. "We can't be having you people call us every other second, you know."

The last call had been over a hundred years ago, but Yamamoto declined to comment.

"There is dire news, retainer," Yamamoto said, his voice rumbling with the kind of quiet dignity that would make most men shiver. "As I am sure you are aware, a rebel captain recently defected-"

"Your affair, not ours," said Abatto bluntly. "Is that what this is about? You know we're not about to send the royal guard to clean up your mess."

"Certainly not," said Yamamoto firmly, "but you ought to know that this rebel in particular intends to create a royal key."

This got a raised eyebrow from the retainer. "You let that knowledge go, you young fool?"

"It was… stolen from us," Yamamoto said with careful deliberation. "At this point, we cannot be sure of his exact intentions except that he intends to breach the palace. Perhaps, to make an attempt on His Majesty's life."

Abatto let out a short, croaking cackle. "I'd like to see him try!"

"At any rate, retainer," Yamamoto said with strained civility, "I request you pass this knowledge along to the guard, and to His Majesty as well. I thought it important you be kept informed."

Abatto nodded. He was as nasty as he was old, but not so spiteful he'd ignore relevant information. "Very well, then."

"In fact," Yamamoto said, "I wondered if I could perhaps speak with His Ma-"

"In your dreams, boy," said Abatto firmly. "He speaks when He wants to speak. You don't petition Him. If He wants to speak with you, you'll know."

"…Of course," Yamamoto said. It had been a spur-of-the-moment question, one he knew he should not have asked. A word from the king would have done much to ease the burden on his shoulders, but he knew too well it was true. One did not ask things of the Soul King. He was not a god, after all.

"Was that it, then?" said the older man. "Or, have any other captains turned coats since?"

"None since, retainer."

"You'd better straighten this out, Yamamoto," said Abatto firmly, staring down the aged commander with a piercing glare. "The palace is not for outsiders with ambition."

"I shall die before it is breached," said Yamamoto firmly.

"See that you do," said Abatto. "Better yet, see that you live and the rebels die. Don't fail us now, boy."

"I will not."

"Good," said the old retainer. Without bothering with a good-bye, he closed the link, and the screen went blank.

Yamamoto sighed. It had gone as well as he might have expected, at least. Still… he couldn't help but wonder. What was His Majesty doing, so far removed from the institution He had bidden Yamamoto to create?

---

We've finally gotten to see a bit of what the royal realm is like and don't worry, I promise you all that there will be more to come. I'm honestly mostly a fan of the scene with Uryu and Meninas. I always felt that Meninas was horribly underused in the final arc. (As were A LOT of characters but you get the idea.) and I'm glad I'm able to actually DO something with her.

The scene with the vizards is also important, but it'll become more clear why as the story progress.

I don't have to much more to say this time, but thank you all for reading and I cant wait to hear what you think.