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)

77. Principio de lucha

Hey everyone! It's been a long while since our last chapter hasn't it? Sorry about that, things went on for a bit longer than expected, but because of this, you now have an extra long chapter! So its a win win.

I hope the action you read today will entertain you all to the fullest. I sure know it did for me!

Anyways, enough with the delay, onto the chapter!

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!

---

Aizen stood looking down on his espada, at the centre of the room he had designated for mission briefing. His servants were either standing or leaning against a pillar, whereas he stood on a three-step dais, his hands extended and his lips curled into a very slight smile.

"My espada," he began, "my faithful arrancar servants. Each one of you present here has been chosen to engage the hated shinigami in combat at long last, to take the fight to them and repay them in kind for the treatment they have given you across the years. Armed with the power I have bestowed upon you, I am sure you will all relish this opportunity."

There was a general murmur of approval, and several of the assembled arrancar cheered. One of them raised a fist, hollering loudly until a stare from Ulquiorra shut him up. Aizen felt content. Aside from Ulquiorra and Neliel, both of whom were part of his inner circle and far more familiar with the mission than any of the other servants, the assembled arrancar were all quite impressed.

"Ulquiorra," Aizen began, "you are to enter the city first. You know where. You are to make a point of expending enough reiatsu to draw out the shinigami captains. With your raw power, I expect you will not find that difficult. However, your role is not to do battle- not seriously, at any rate. You are not to release the full extent of your power- in fact, I am ordering you to retreat before that should become necessary. Is this understood?"

"Yes, lord," Ulquiorra said, as dispassionately as usual. Aizen felt content in his choice; if anyone could be trusted to obey, it was Ulquiorra. His lack of imagination, limiting though it was, made him reliable.

"Nnoitra Gilga," said Aizen, nodding toward the lean, lanky espada, casually leaned against a pillar in the back.

"Yeah, lord?" he said, and Aizen noted he only added the very minimum amount of civility in his tone.

"You are to engage directly with any one captain you can intercept. Preferably captain Soifon or Scarlet; your abilities would suit combat with either one of them well."

"Kicking the ass of a couple girls?" said Nnoitora, and his face split into an abnormally wide grin. "Shit, you don't have to tell me twice. I'll put 'em in their place, yessir."

Aizen nodded. Nnoitra was a lewd, rude creature, but he had the sense to respect the hierarchy of power, and that was good enough.

"Yami," said Aizen, nodding to the enormous arrancar, towering over the rest, "just like Nnoitra, your task will be to cause havoc. Kill if you can, but your main task is to distract them."

Yami puffed his chest. "I'll smash 'em, boss. Don't you worry."

Yami was quite the idiot, Aizen thought, and it was only his considerable strength that had qualified him for service as an espada.

"My privaron espada, step forward," urged Aizen.

Five figures stepped forward. One was a tall woman with black hair extending past her waist and a scar over her face. The next was a stocky man, broad of shoulder and girth, and with a short beard. They were accompanied by a tall man with a thick afro, a woman with pigtails and small markings under her eyes, and a man with a devilish goatee and a mask fragment accentuating his forehead, looking rather like a pair of horns. They were old, outdated, members of the old guard kept around only because Aizen had seen no reason to dispose of them. They were relics, and very, very expendable.

"Tarja Kovadi. Lloyvar Krole. Gantenbaine Mosqueda. Ruval Vlode. Cirucci Thunderwitch. Dordonni Alessandro del Socaccio," he said firmly, "the privaron have long been overlooked. I believe you all deserve a chance to prove your worth on the battlefield. Return to me victorious, and I shall surely reward you with the same kind of power I have bestowed upon my chosen arrancar."

"Our lord is most generous," said Tarja neutrally.

"On my life, I will kill these shinigami, Lord Aizen!" said Lloyvar, clearly hungrier for power than his companion. The other three looked more reserved, but Aizen could sense their eagerness. They had all been at the top, suddenly replaced and made inferior for reasons entirely out of their control. The idea of regaining their former glory, Aizen knew, would be equivalent to dangling a packet of drugs in front of an addict.

He rather hoped they would all die in the effort. To rewrite the structure of a being that far advanced was possible, of course; certainly not beyond his capacity as a scientist, but it would be quite a hassle. More effort than it was worth, definitely. Still, he nodded graciously.

"Neliel Tu Oderschwank," he said, and Neliel stood to attention, "your task will be to strike at the heart of the foe's quarters as the chaos ensues. Once the captains are all engaged in battle, you will strike at their lair, capture Grimmjow, and if possible retrieve the documents he stole."

"I will not fail you, Lord Aizen," she said determinedly. Now, there, thought Aizen, was the face of somebody who believed. She was perfect for the job; powerful enough to be more than a match for any captain, loyal to his vision, and in control of herself, well above the animalistic instincts most arrancar were still ruled by. He had considered sending Halibel, but he was rather reluctant to show them any more of his power than he needed to.

"You will strike within the moment," Aizen continued, "as I explained, and with haste. This attack will be hard and fast, and I expect you all to be back within thirty minutes at the most, preferably less. Slay your foes with extreme prejudice, but remember each of your objectives. I will not tolerate any deviation from the plan. Remember that, and remember it well."

They kept their composure well, but Aizen sensed some unease from the lesser arrancar. Grimmjow's fate would be grisly, and though they all wanted glory, they now knew the consequences of disloyalty, and would know it in excessive detail after the traitor had been punished.

"It is time," Aizen said. "On my order, you will each go out. Ulquiorra?"

"Yes, lord."

"Enter Karakura. Sow terror in their hearts. Kill your foes if you see the opportunity, but make sure above all else that you become their first priority."

"Yes, lord."

"Go," Aizen commanded, and Ulquiorra opened the gate with a flick of his fingers, the nightline of Karakura City becoming visible to them all.

"Within a few minutes, it will be Nnoitra, then Yami," Aizen clarified as Ulquiorra left, "and then of course Tarja and Lloyvar. Rest assured, my arrancar, that today will be the first battle where we kill these wretched shinigami until their order is naught but history."

---

Erza had run through the night, deeply grateful for the communication spell Isane had set up.

"All members, respond!" Erza demanded.

"Captain Kuchiki Byakuya responding. Target in sight. Moving to engage."

His voice was calm and collected, but Erza somehow felt doubtful that he was. That stunt he had pulled last time they were in action, when he had so overzealously pursued his opponent to the point where he had almost run through a closing garganta, had left Erza questioning his composure.

She pondered the issue for a second, but realizing she could not afford to hesitate, she said, "Affirmative, Captain Kuchiki. Engage, but proceed with caution. Be prepared to receive aid from reinforcements if necessary."

"Understood."

She doubted he would accept it at anything less than a direct order, but they had no time for personal glory. Dashing up the ladder and into Urahara Kisuke's shop, Erza hurried to his lab. Inside it, the scientist was hard at work alongside Nozomi. Soifon was there, too, having been close enough to Erza's position. One by one, Erza could hear her team responding through the kido-powered link.

"Vice-captain Matsumoto, responding."

"Vice-captain Hinamori, responding."

"Science Advisor Kurotsuchi, responding."

"Officer Kuchiki Rukia, responding."

"Medical Officer Kotetsu, responding."

"Captain Soifon, responding," Soifon said clearly, giving Erza a steely look. "Your orders, commander?"

"New signatures incoming!" Nozomi barked. "Considerable power, quite above the arrancar we've seen so far. I… I think they're espada, too, captain! This makes for three espada in the city at the same time!"

This was it, then. This was the trial that would challenge her ability to lead, and Soifon would surely watch over it like a hawk. It was not the first invasion, but all prior had been pokes and prods, attempts to see where the defences were. This was the real deal. For a second, Erza balked at the responsibility heaved on her shoulders, at the thought of how much could go wrong with just a small error of judgment.

But, only for a second. The fact that so much could go wrong was nothing compared to how much would go wrong if she didn't act.

"Vice-captain Hinamori, move to support Captain Kuchiki!" she snapped loudly and clearly. ",Officer Rukia provide support for Medical Officer Kotetsu! Vice-captain Matsumoto, converge with me- I'll engage one of the espada personally! Science Advisor Kurotsuchi, report to headquarters at once and support Science Advisor Kujo! Medical Officer Kotetsu, stand by near the combat zone to aid the wounded as needed! Be ready for anything and use your best judgment, and fight as hard as you can. For the Gotei, my shinigami!"

Soifon continued to stare at Erza, her face betraying no emotion. "And I, commander?"

"Remain here and guard the headquarters," Erza said firmly. "We must maintain our base of operations."

"I may well be needed at the front."

"If you are, I will call for you to reinforce us. For now, remain here!"

Soifon did not protest, simply nodding. If she approved or disapproved, Erza could not tell, and there was no time to ponder on it.

"Officer Kujo," she snapped, "get in touch with the Gotei and call in reinforcements this instant!"

"Our signal has been jammed, commander!" Nozomi said, urgently typing away, her eyes fixated on the computer screen in front of her. "For the time being, we can't send a signal in or out!"

"Aizen's a clever bastard," Urahara muttered, typing away just as furiously. "Makes sense he'd know how we communicate. The Gotei will smell a rat soon enough, when they realize the connection has been severed, but likely not before Aizen gets what he wants."

"We're on our own, then," Erza said grimly, feeling her heart skip a beat. "There's nothing for it. When Nemu gets here, work together on breaking the jam. It's your number one priority, understand?"

"Yes, commander!" Nozomi burst out, not bothering to look up. Erza found her dedication commendable. Putting a hand on her blade, she ran out of the lab, out of the building, and off into the night, heading for the closest source of energy. It would be a trial by fire, and with her blade at her side, she felt her hesitance turn into determination. Aizen had made his move. He would soon find out why it was a foolish one.

---

Uryu had tucked into bed early, as he usually would. School was draining enough as it was, and the additional training had left him considerably weary every day. He had been fast asleep when suddenly he sat bolt upright in his bed. It took his brain a few seconds to catch up, and he shook his head, trying to force himself awake more quickly. Then, as his faculties begun to work and his mind came together, he could name the sensation that had woken him.

Arrancar.

Several signatures, incredibly powerful, radiating boldly across the city. Hastily, Uryu all but tore his pyjamas off, fumbling to put his clothes on. After what felt like an eternity, he stood up, wearing the white of his uniform, cross in hand. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the little trinket. This was it; this was the kind of moment he had trained for. A mixture of fear and excitement coursed through him as he dashed out the window.

He hadn't gotten more than a hundred paces before he saw- and felt- the presence of his mentor Meninas, perched on a rooftop. She sat leaned against a chimney, looking at him. Uryu ground to a halt, nearly losing his balance from the sudden decrease in speed.

"Sensei," he said, anxiously glancing out into the distance. Nothing could have stopped him here… except her.

"Look at you, running off like a knight in shining armour," she said, a slight smile on her face.

"This is no time to jest, sensei," he said firmly. "The city is in danger."

"This is none of our business, Uryu," she said firmly, and Uryu balked at her words.

"How can it not be?"

"It certainly is none of mine. Why should it be yours?"

"Why shouldn't it, sensei? It's my home they're invading!"

"Our non-aggression policy aside," said Meninas, quite dispassionate, "this city is well defended. Three captains, no less, a deployment the likes of which has not been seen for many decades. They started this war, hollow and shinigami, and it is only right they fight it out. It is not our place to risk our lives senselessly."

"They started this war, but war spills over!" Uryu said heatedly. "When war starts killing innocent bystanders, it stops being about just… two different sides, sensei. Do you expect me to just stand by?"

"Yes," said Meninas flatly. "You're young. Inexperienced. If you were older, maybe. You are not yet there, Uryu. I cannot let you waste your potential by fighting before you are ready."

"I defended this city for years before you came along!" Uryu said, his choler rising. What was she doing? Was this the bravery of a knight?

"Against mere hollows," Meninas said sharply. "These are arrancar, and some of the strongest ones out there at that. You could get killed in an instant with even the slightest miscalculation."

"When is that not true?" Uryu objected. "When are we ever not at the mercy of a potential mistake?"

"True," Meninas conceded. "Regardless, I forbid it. Sit back, Uryu. Let the strong ones handle this, and come back when you've grown enough to be their match."

"Forbid it?" Uryu exclaimed incredulously. "Sensei, is this what the Wandenritter stand for? Your own grand master asked me what it meant to me, why I sought your tutelage, and I told him it was for the sake of this city!"

"What my order stands for," Meninas said sharply, and stood up, "is sound obedience to those who know better. It is not your place to question, Uryu. If you take another step further, we are through. Your apprenticeship with me will be null and void!"

Uryu stared out into the distance, and paused, feeling his body twitch with the urge to rush forward, to charge in, to do anything he could. But… to give up this? To give up his heritage, this… power, given to him freely? By the best of the best? How could he?

How could he not?

He thought of the people he'd seen killed by hollows. He thought of the people he had seen in his day, people he had not been able to save because he was too inexperienced, too lax, too careless. People who had mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, loved ones who needed them, loved ones who would never see them again. He thought of inaction, thought of the people who might get caught up. Thinking of them, he turned his face back to Meninas, giving her an icy stare.

"Thank you for everything, Meninas McAllon," he said. "You owed me nothing, and you gave me plenty, only because I asked. But if we must be through, then that is what it is. I'll make my own way, doing the best with what I have."

"You will lose your chance at claiming the true power of a quincy."

"So be it, then," he said severely. "Farewell, sensei. Maybe we'll meet again some other time."

Not one to prolong a good-bye, Uryu turned and dashed out into the city, heading toward the closest energy signature, his quincy cross held firmly in the palm of his hand. If this was it, if he had thrown it all away, he would not let it be for nothing.

Meninas watched the young man speed away and sighed, sitting back down with her back to the chimney. She yawned, and pulled out a cell phone, sending out a call to Haschwalth.

"How did it go?" came the voice of her grand master, the call answered almost immediately. He had been waiting for this.

"He reacted just the way I expected," said Meninas, her voice the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

"I see. Well done, Paladin McAllon."

"No problem, sir."

"Will you be heading back?"

"I think… I'll stay here for a bit. I like the view. I'll be able to feel all of it unfold."

"As you wish. But, make sure you are not seen. The king's directive is still in effect."

"Affirmative, grand master," Meninas said, and she would have saluted if they weren't on the phone. All that needed to be said had been said, and Haschwalth ended the call. Meninas looked at the screen of her phone for a second, before stuffing it back in her pocket. She stared out into the distance, sensing the chaos quite clearly.

Then she smiled to herself. Ishida Uryu… how predictable wasn't the heart of a passionate young man? She had expected nothing else. Now all she had to do was watch from afar.

---

The Earth turned, and in the distance, that amounted to a setting Sun. With night approaching, in the twilight, Kuchiki Byakuya approached the espada. He stood there up in the air, nearly fifty yards above the nearest building roof, hands in his pockets, seeming totally apathetic to the situation, and if not for the quiet flare of energy he exuded, he might have been thought to be no threat at all. Byakuya would not have cared either way. This hollow scum had dared to sully soil claimed by the Gotei Thirteen with his unholy presence, and that was more than enough.

Although he maintained an indifferent exterior, Byakuya's heart was aflame with passion. This was one of Aizen's strongest, and no mistake; his power surpassed that of the captive espada even at his strongest by an order of magnitude. This was what he had wanted. This was what he needed. To do battle with the greatest of foes, to fight the worst the vile traitor had to offer and prevail. To challenge his enemy and conquer him.

The espada didn't seem impressed. His face was a mask of indifference as effortless as Byakuya's own, and his green eyes were the only thing that moved, carefully following Byakuya's movements as he walked closer. Byakuya stopped some ten yards away, one hand on the hilt of his blade. With one smooth movement, practiced to perfection, he drew the blade.

"Espada," he said curtly.

"Do you expect a response?" said the arrancar after a brief pause. "You are of no consequence, captain. If you wish for me to engage with you, you will have to give more than words."

The provocation was all Byakuya had needed. In all honesty, he was grateful. He burned with desire, the heartfelt wish to kill his enemy after besting him in combat. In one quick movement, one that would have stunned all but the most skilled shunpo users, he surged forward, striking at the espada with a quick sideways slash. With the barest of gestures, the espada raised an arm, taking the blow on his forearm. It was like striking a pillar of steel. Byakuya's blade bounced off it, and if not for the cut his blade had left on the arrancar's sleeve, it was as if he had made no attack at all.

"Was that it?" said the espada.

He wasn't even sneering. He just seemed quietly unimpressed, as if the performance wasn't even worth the emotional investment of mockery. It enraged Byakuya. How dared he? How dared the likes of he, such hollow scum, look down on nobility?

Concealing his anger, Byakuya struck again, and again, lashing out with a series of perfectly timed, skillful strikes. Always at the last second, the espada would raise an arm, blocking the attack. Within the minute, his sleeves had dozens of small cuts, but Byakuya had nothing else to show for his efforts. Then, suddenly the espada caught the blade in one palm. With the speed of a viper, his other arm surged forward, and Byakuya just barely reacted in time, pulling back far enough that the espada's hand did not catch him by the throat. Quickly, he wrenched his blade free, pulling it from the espada's grasp, and took a few steps back. The espada raised an eyebrow, but gave nothing else.

"I am Ulquiorra Cifer," he said after a pause, "and I was sent on Lord Aizen's order to kill my enemies. Brace yourself, Captain Kuchiki of the Gotei. If you wish to live, you must try harder than this."

Byakuya's grip around his blade tightened, the narrowing of his knuckles the only outward sign of his fury with the hollow's arrogance. He had wanted to try its defences, to see how far it could go before he tried anything further, but he could see now that this was pointless. The monster wanted more? Then Byakuya would be glad to give it to him.

"Scatter, Senbonzakura," Byakuya said calmly. At his command, the blade shattered into a thousand pieces, surging forward at once, swarming the espada. Relentlessly they assaulted the espada, and although he seemed unimpressed at first, it was clear he could not simply stand still. Thick and strong though his hide was, Senbonzakura would find a weak spot and grind it to mincemeat, given enough time. After a few seconds, the espada jumped back, the petals following him immediately.

This was what Byakuya had waited for. Directing the blades with one hand, he held up a palm with the other, muttering an incantation under his breath. To perform a full kido while at the same time directing a thousand blades would have been above almost all fighters in the Gotei, but Byakuya was the true elite, trained from when he was old enough to walk. As the tide continued their onslaught, the espada swatted them away like flies, but distraction was all they needed to accomplish. Byakuya felt the spell complete, its force growing in his palm, drawing upon his reiatsu reserves for power. Let him ignore this!

As the espada swatted away another wave of blades and the spell concluded in its formation, Byakuya suddenly surged forward and around the espada with a masterful shunpo, and pointed his hand at his foe, his palm lightly curved upward.

"Hadou eighty-eight," he said dispassionately, "Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō."

Kidou was one of Byakuya's specialties, and a fully chanted spell of this magnitude should be tremendously powerful. He had moved as close as he dared, the very minimum distance for safety from the blast. Under other circumstances, an arrancar of such considerable power might have evaded, but distracted as he was, the split second he'd need was the split second he did not have.

The spell discharged, an enormous beam of electrical force surging out from Byakuya's hands. The instant it connected with the monster's back, it exploded with enormous force; he had no doubt a spell like this could have levelled a dozen buildings. He didn't dare hope his enemy was dead yet, but…

As the blinding flash of energy dissipated, the force of the blast gone, Byakuya could see Ulquiorra, entirely in one piece. He had been blown away for some distance, tumbling like a leaf in the wind, but he quickly stabilized. Byakuya could see him stand up in the air, dust himself off, and as he walked closer he saw that he seemed unaffected- or at least not harmed enough that it was in any way debilitating. Like some grim, relentless spectre, he walked toward Byakuya at a normal pace, and for a second, Byakuya felt the fear of death, his heart skipping a beat. But, it was only for a second; the very next moment, his resolve had been renewed. So what if he had expected such a perfectly executed manoeuvre to do something better? So what if the beast was unflappable, so madly powerful that nothing Byakuya did seemed to make a difference? He was Kuchiki Byakuya, and he was not spent. He was not finished. He was the best of the best, and this monster would feel his wrath- or he would die trying. Fear was inconsequential.

"That was more," Ulquiorra conceded, as he came within two yards of Byakuya. He reached for his blade, slowly drawing it. At once, Byakuya summoned his tide of blades, and only barely reacted in time to block a strike, fast as lightning and thunderously powerful. Byakuya felt the blade graze his shoulder, his blades failing to block it completely, and he grunted as it drew blood. The raw force of the strike sent him reeling, almost falling toward the ground. As he recovered, he saw the espada looking down on him with quiet contempt. An overwhelming fury began to rise in his chest, and he nearly lost control. He dared! He dared look down on him. As if he had any right!

The blade reshaped in Byakuya's hand as he rose to Ulquiorra's level, standing face to face with the espada. Ulquiorra, for his part, seemed content to wait for Byakuya to make his move. Was he that assured of his supremacy? Then let that be his last mistake!

Byakuya held out his sword, then pointed its blade downward. He let go of the hilt, the blade's tip smoothly dissolving as it came level with Byakuya's feet, until it had gone away entirely.

"Bankai," said Byakuya, struggling to keep his calm, "Senbonzakura Kageyoshi."

Around the both of them, great rows of enormous blade arose, like an alley of edges, a forest of swords. Then, at Byakuya's command, they all split into innumerable blades like a storm of flower petals. The espada still looked unimpressed. As the blades rushed in at the arrancar from every direction, Byakuya was determined to make him regret his overconfidence. This was the power of a captain. This was the power of a nobleman. This was power, the kind that had been hard-earned, and Aizen and this detestable hollow in human form would both regret underestimating it.

---

Tatsuki had been close by when she felt the first surge of power. An overwhelming source of raw force in the distance- and soon after, a power of similar strength converging on its position. She was no shinigami; her ability to sense reiatsu was not anywhere close to that of a trained soldier of the Gotei, but even if she had had no experience at all, Tatsuki was sure she would have felt it. It was oppressively enormous, and it felt as if its very existence was a threat to her life.

Then, not long after, another, nearly as strong. Then, almost the same instant, elsewhere in the city, a third presence. She had been shaken by the thought of it, but sensing the shinigami go into action, she had felt somewhat reassured, if not by much.

Then she had felt dread, as in quick succession she felt several more presences manifest, and close by, too. They had to be at ground level. What was more, they were beginning to outnumber the shinigami force, which was already responding to the first two in the distance. Tatsuki had taken a deep breath, swallowed down her fear, and produced the staff she used to channel her power. This was her city, too, and she was officially part of the Gotei's military for the time being. To do something or to hide… no, she knew where she stood. Even if all she could do was stall one of them, that would be enough.

You might die, her brain reminded her.

That was true. Then again, life was full of things that could kill her. Tatsuki stopped thinking, focusing her mind only on battle, and let her reiatsu rise and flare as she headed toward one of the energy sources. It seemed to notice, heading her way, and before Tatsuki had run more than a couple of blocks, she came face to face with him.

The arrancar was a stocky man, muscular and with a short beard, broad of shoulder and girth. His unbuttoned jacket revealed a chest riddled with scars and old wounds, displayed proudly, and two mask fragments framed the outer halves of each of his eyes, lined with small, sharp tips. A short blade completed the look, and Tatsuki realized this was the real deal. Whatever she had seen before, whatever she had faced could not compare. His power was raw and overwhelming, and Tatsuki felt a lump in her stomach.

"Is this what an espada looks like?" she called out, slowly walking closer, before stopping some ten yards away.

"A child," the arrancar sneered. "This is what the Gotei sends to do their bidding? Lord Aizen was right. They truly are weak and pathetic. If they rely on conscripts such as you, our victory is assured!"

"Don't count them till you got them," Tatsuki said, with confidence she did not have.

"I," said the arrancar, "am Lloyvar Krole, privaron espada, ninth in rank. I only regret my chance to prove myself offers nothing more than some puffed-up, clueless child of a human."

"Privaron?" Tatsuki said, partly out of curiosity, and partly to stall. She did not look forward to the coming battle.

"A former espada, temporarily displaced by Lord Aizen's new rule. Our lord is gracious, though, and has allowed us a chance at proving our worth."

"In other words, you're yesterday's news," Tatsuki said, before she could stop herself. Why would she provoke him?

"If you desire death so badly, you shall have it!" Lloyvar snarled, and pulled out his blade. Tatsuki assumed a stance, holding out her staff. In an instant, he was upon her, and Tatsuki felt the chill of death as she dodged under a blow that would surely have sheared her in half, evading only by the skin of her teeth. Instinctively, she lashed out with her staff, but although it struck true, slamming into the arrancar's throat, it seemed to have no effect. Tatsuki somersaulted back, evading and parrying a rapid series of slashes. Her staff was beginning to wear down, chips of wood splintering from the tool as she parried. His edge was sharp, and he had power to spare. Tatsuki grunted, only barely keeping up. Her power flared, struggling to keep up with the raw, overwhelming force of the former espada. If not for the training she had received from Yoruichi and Soifon, Tatsuki was sure she would have died already. She was stronger, faster, and smoother than before, and that was just barely enough to stay alive.

"Bala!" cried the Privaron, and Tatsuki jumped aside, somersaulting, dropping to the street level, thrusting herself up into the air with her palms into a backflip, her acrobatics just enough to make the stream of red projectiles miss their mark. Tatsuki got up to her feet, regained her bearings, and charged forward, thrusting with her staff. The Privaron parried it, and backhanded her, hard. Tatsuki was sent reeling back, losing her balance, and tumbled across the ground. She spun around three times before she could regain control. She scrambled to her feet, but she had no cause to worry; Lloyvar was simply staring at her condescendingly.

"Nothing," he spat. "At least try to make it interesting, human. I am the true pinnacle of hollow evolution, and you have the nerve to stand up to me with hardly anything to match? You are what, a handful of years old? I have hundreds of years behind me, spent killing, spent gaining strength!"

"God damn if you won't shut up!" Tatsuki sneered, frustration overwhelming her. "What, are you going to talk me to death?"

The arrancar spat and charged. Tatsuki pivoted out of the way, and Lloyvar barreled past her like a bull charging past a matador. Tatsuki slammed the tip of her staff into the joint of his knee as he ran past, and he let out a yelp of pain as his knee slammed into the asphalt, cracking it open like an egg.

Play to your strengths, then. Tatsuki only wished it had done more than anger him; she just barely dodged a wide slash to the throat after he got back up, striking at her with the reflexes and speed of a wild cat.

Right. Playing to her strengths would be difficult when it actually wasn't a strength at all. The Privaron seemed as fast as her, and there could be no doubt he had experience of a kind she could only imagine. She skipped back, dodging and evading one cut after another, her staff becoming increasingly chipped as she was forced to parry one blow after another.

Then the inevitable happened. The arrancar, much too fast and much too furious, closed the distance just a bit too far, and although she caught his blade, he only used it to pin her weapon down. He surged forward with a headbutt, and Tatsuki saw stars as she stumbled back, losing her footing. Although her world had gone blurry, although she had lost any semblance of thought, she still scrambled to her feet by muscle memory and survival instinct alone, raising her weapon just in time to parry a blow that would have cut right into her chest. On her knees, she parried one blow after another, painstakingly standing up. The Privaron was hammering down each blow with ruthless strength, barely even trying to do anything but pin her down. He seemed determined to demonstrate his superiority in every respect.

Tatsuki, whose head was still spinning, felt the staff crack and splinter as she was forced back, step by step, barely even keeping her balance. She was on a knife's edge, always just the blink of an eye away from a quick, painful death.

Then there was a sudden crack and a small shower of splinters, small, sharp needles of wood digging into Tatsuki's arms. The staff had at long last splintered, cut in twain by a particularly forceful strike from the privaron's blade. Tatsuki staggered back with shock, and felt her reiatsu begin to fluctuate. Desperately, she grasped at it, trying to control her own spiritual power.

"I thought so," said Lloyvar contentedly, a cruel smile on his face. "I sensed your power, and how poorly controlled it was. How it shook each time I struck that pathetic little stick of yours. It was the key to your power, was it not?"

Tatsuki gaped and stumbled back a few steps, a look of fear on her face, desperation creeping in.

"Whatever strength you have is not in your control. Just as I would expect from a human, your power was not earned, but given to you by somebody else." He chuckled. "You deserve what comes, child. You dared to struggle with borrowed power, dared to believe you could match true strength, earned strength."

Tatsuki's face hardened, and she threw the splintered staff aside, reaching into her pockets. Lloyvar cocked his head.

"Giving up? You will find no mercy."

"My god, but you really do love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" Tatsuki sneered, still struggling to grasp her power. It was slipping away, back into the recesses of her mind. The staff… it had been a conduit. There was just…

"As you please," Lloyvar said with a shrug, and surged forward with a wide slash, meant to take her head off. It was clear he had expected to kill her with ease. He had surely expected a clean, easily finished warm-up to the real battles ahead. He hadn't expected the sudden surge of power at the last second, and he certainly hadn't expected to be slammed in the jaw from beneath, knocked off his feet as Tatsuki dodged under his strike.

"What?" he snarled as he rolled onto his feet, staring at Tatsuki, suddenly brimming with power. Over her hands were a pair of brass knuckles, a dull grey iron in colour. Her strength, which had faded only seconds before, was back in force.

"You carried a spare. No matter," he spat.

"A spare?" Tatsuki said confidently. "Hell no. This is my power. These are just weapons. I never borrowed anything, you idiot."

Her power grew, began to peak, and there was a crack of lightning and a yellow glow as an aura manifested around her.

"Raijin!" she cried, and surged forward, the sudden burst of speed catching the Privaron off guard. She batted aside his blade and unleashed a hail of blows, each one sending off a thunderous spark. None of them pierced his thick hierro, but none of them needed to; each one had the strength to shatter bones. Lloyvar, not an exalted arrancar for nothing, recovered and parried, dodged and evaded, but he was suddenly on the back foot. Suddenly Tatsuki's skill became apparent, her formal training in karate allowing her to strike with precision and force. Coupled with the raw power of her aura, it was slowly turning the tide, despite the arrancar's strength and experience. With a quick step of sonido, the Privaron put some distance between the two of them, his guard up.

"What devilry is this?" he demanded. "You hid that strength? What for?"

"It's not done, that's why," Tatsuki said. "Frankly, this thing… I can barely even use it. I'm just using my own reiatsu to generate lightning to increase my speed and power. It's nothing fancy." She cocked her head, and cracked her knuckles. "Seems to do the trick, though."

Lloyvar's eyes narrowed. He held out his blade, and his spiritual energy began to rise. "Eviscerate-"

"No, you don't!" Tatsuki snapped, and closed the distance in an instant. Before the transformation could complete, she had rammed a fist into his solar plexus, a massive burst of energy electrocuting the privaron. He gasped, bent over, and Tatsuki grabbed him by the hair with both hands, slamming her knee into his face one, two, three, four times, over and over, each time discharging a blast of lightning. Just as she had hoped, striking at the head disoriented him, stunned him, and she quickly followed up by throwing him to the ground. She jumped on top of him, desperately hammering down on his head with her fists, expending all of her energy. When she had entirely run out, when she was all but spent and her aura dissipated, even then she kept going, even though her fists could barely do anything against his superhuman constitution without the power that had backed her strikes so far.

As she slowed down, exhausted, she realized he wasn't moving. His face had been reduced to a red, swollen mess, and his neck had broken under the intense punishment. Breathing out, Tatsuki rolled off him, lying on her back in the street, just barely keeping conscious. This, she realized, was luck. She had been overconfident, and it was only her opponent's own overconfidence that had, in turn, allowed her to catch him off guard. If not for that…

If he had released his full power. If he'd taken her more seriously. If only…

She shivered at the thought. But, at the end of the day, pride, arrogance, bad judgment, those were all factors in battle as much as skill and experience. She felt weak, weary, spent. Her reiatsu was down to a bare minimum. But, she had won, and that had to count for something. As she slipped into merciful unconsciousness, she hoped the others would fare better.

---

Uryu indeed fared better. He had run into the first of the espada within a minute of leaving Meninas behind, and he found it strangely easy to push aside the thought that he had thrown away all of his future. All that mattered now was his enemy, the vile hollow monstrosity before him.

As Uryu walked down the street, having slowed down on the approach, the vile monstrosity showed surprising restraint. He looked ridiculous, Uryu thought as he came closer; he was tall, gangly, and would have looked like all legs and arms if not for his muscular build, but most of all it was his bright orange afro that stood out. A thick hollow mask fragment covered his forehead, and he towered over Uryu as they stopped, some four yards apart.

"I am Gantenbainne Mosqueda," said the arrancar, his voice deep, "privaron espada of Lord Aizen's army, once seventh in rank. Your name, defender? I would know who I killed to earn my ascension."

"Ishida Uryu, quincy and last of my clan," said Uryu, giving him a slight nod. It was odd to see an arrancar behave in a manner that qualified as honourable, but Uryu was not about to reject courtesy simply because his enemy was a monster. It should be done right.

You didn't think like this a month ago, a small thought said, creeping into the back of his head. You would have moved to slay him with contempt. You want to be a knight, don't you?

Well, it was too late for that now.

"Well met, Ishida Uryu of the quincies," said Gantenbainne, assuming a stance with his fists raised. "Hold nothing back. No battle is worth winning that was not hard fought."

"I agree," said Uryu, and in his hand, the bow flickered to life, his quincy cross glowing with power.

At lightning's speed Gantenbainne surged forward, fist aimed for Uryu's face. Uryu bent over backwards, the strike missing him by a hair's breadth. He began to lose his balance, but nimbly twisted around, landing on the palm of his hand, launching himself up into the air and unleashing a hail of arrows, all in the span of one second. Gantenbainne absorbed the hits, the arrows doing little more than sear his skin, and charged, but Uryu had already moved away, his hirenkyaku taking him to a rooftop. The privaron caught up within a second, but not before Uryu had strung his bow and charged it. As the privaron came upon him, aiming another calculated strike, Uryu shot him in the neck, the arrow searing through the skin, and thick blood seeped from the half cauterized wound. Caught by surprise, Gantenbainne stumbled back for a second, and Uryu used it to his advantage, speeding away. A second was an eternity to a quincy, and in the time it took him to put a hundred yards of distance between them, he had unleashed a swarm of arrows, peppering the stunned privaron, keeping him off balance. He recovered quickly, of course, but Uryu was already where he wanted to be- on the move, constantly watching his opponent, mixing hails of arrows with deadly accurate, charged bow shots.

As Gantenbainne gave chase, Uryu marveled at his newfound skill. He fired with almost total accuracy while moving at breakneck speed. He moved this quickly, needing nothing more than a hyper-quick glance to know where he was going, create an internal memory map of the terrain, and adjust his body accordingly. Most would not have noticed a difference; an untrained observer like Ichigo would just have seen Uryu doing much the same he always did, but to Uryu himself, it was like night and day.

His training with Meninas had already begun to pay off in ways he had never expected. He was quicker, more accurate, more effective. He felt totally in control of himself in ways he could barely even understand. Every movement was more precise, more energy effective.

And, he realized as the privaron closed the distance once more, his speed shockingly well adapted to Uryu's, he was barely even afraid. Gantenbainne launched into a series of quick punches and kicks, putting Uryu on the defensive and forcing him to focus solely on evasion, leaving no time to fire back. Yet as quickly as the privaron struck, he didn't land a single blow, Uryu evading each and every one. He wasn't just fast; he knew where the arrancar would strike and when, moving out of the way before he could even formulate a thought about it. His sensory skills picked up the smallest movement the privaron made- and this close, that was as easy as it could get- and his mind in turn transformed that information into the exact place he needed to be to not get hit.

Was this what a knight of the Vanden could do? Was this just what Uryu was capable of, with the right training?

Slightly in awe of his own capabilities, Uryu was suddenly brought back to reality when Gantenbainne managed to backhand him. The young quincy's reflexes turned the blow into a glancing strike, but it was more than enough to send him tumbling, and he felt his legs scream in protest when he corrected his fall, landing in a long slide on the hard asphalt of the street.

The privaron was already on the move, letting out a victorious battle cry, and Uryu somersaulted back, slipping into another hirenkyaku to keep his distance. As Gantenbainne pivoted on the spot, Uryu aimed his bow, finally finding an opening to shoot. Rapidly drawing back his arm, Uryu aimed and fired a dozen arrows, specifically targeting the arrancar's face. They hit home, and the privaron snarled with pain, blood trailing down next to his left eye. He surged forward, up toward the rooftop Uryu had taken to, but in his excitement he had jumped a little too hard and a little too quickly. As he sailed upward, Uryu anticipated the movement, dropped down onto his back, falling through the air toward the ground. For a second, Gantenbainne was wide open, losing control of his own movements. A second was as much as Uryu could ask for.

Use your enemy's mistakes against him. Make as few as possible of your own. That, practically speaking, is the best path to victory.

Uryu charged another arrow, putting as much power into it as he had time to, and struck the privaron in the gut, the projectile cutting through his iron skin. Uryu quickly recovered, landing on the ground just in time. The privaron came at him a second later, but Uryu was already fifty yards away, unleashing another hail of arrows. Gantenbainne grunted with frustration and charged at Uryu again, but the quincy was moving too quickly. The injury had slowed the privaron ever so slightly, and Uryu was capitalizing on it, raining down fire upon his enemy from every direction, never stopping in one place for more than a second. He was like lightning, like a white scar over the setting Sun, always out of Gantenbainne's reach.

"Damnable human!" Gantenbainne snarled, after narrowly missing yet another strike. Their battle had become a chase, a hunt taking them all across the city, each one crossing a hundred yards of distance in mere seconds.

"Would you like me to stop, stand still, and give you victory on a silver platter?" Uryu shouted back, arching over the privaron in a smooth leap, unleashing another barrage of arrows. To his surprise, Gantenbainne realized he was dodging the shots; they had started to hurt, and although few had pierced his hierro, he was riddled with bruises, and his smooth white clothing was equally riddled with holes and tears.

"Not on your life!" cried Gantenbainne. He jumped up to catch Uryu, but the quincy was already out of his grasp and, taking advantage of the privaron's momentary lack of anchorage, launching another charged arrow, striking him in the side. Gantenbainne felt a sting of pain, and warm blood seeping through his clothing. He landed on his feet smoothly, and launched a series of bala to keep the quincy on his toes. The human evaded, but was at least forced to spend a moment evading.

"I see now I was wrong to think I could defeat you without going all out," said Gantenbainne loudly, balling his fists, staring at the quincy, standing some twenty yards away. "It is fitting that this city has defenders strong enough to merit my full power. Why else should Lord Aizen seek to test us here?"

He cracked his knuckles, and side-stepped a hail of arrows, his reflexes still quite keen despite the pain. It was good. It was waking him up, reminding him to stay sharp, to harken back to the old days of constant battle, where only strength, cunning, and speed could keep a body alive. He reached for the blade at his side, pulled it clear, and his energy began to spike.

"I was never well versed with any weapon except my fists," he rumbled, staring down his opponent, keeping his distance for now, "but it does make for a necessary conduit of power. Stab, Dragra!"

Uryu was nearly blown away by the shockwave, and ran to get clear, his skilled steps taking him three rooftops away in two seconds flat. This was monstrous power; this was-

"Shocked?" came the calmly confident voice of the privaron, and Uryu spun around to find him standing but two yards away. Uryu instinctively threw himself back, narrowly avoiding a lightning-fast punch. He felt a sudden sting as something raked his forehead, and as Uryu dashed away, he tasted blood in his mouth, trailing down his face. As he landed on the street, he found Gantenbainne already waiting for him. Uryu could see him now, and if not for the imminent death he represented, he would have looked even sillier. The mask fragment had been pulled down to cover his eyes, and his fists were encased in a thick, bony mass, two spikes protruding from each fist, blood red. Dome-shaped armour plating ran from his wrists up his back, giving him the bizarre look of a hot air balloon with knives strapped to its lower end.

"I cannot blame you," said Gantenbainne, taking a step forward. "By the look of it, I doubt you have seen anything like it before, young human. But, battle gives no consideration to experience or inexperience- you triumph or you die, regardless of the hand you've been given."

Uryu dashed back, unleashing a hail of arrows while leaping, but they bounced off the arrancar with minimal effect. Gantenbainne charged after, and Uryu realized he could no longer outpace the privaron; within a second, he had caught up, and Uryu caught a glancing blow to his shoulder, nearly losing his balance. He was in close, and suddenly Uryu's newfound reflexes were being pushed to the very limit, and he truly danced with death in a way he never had before. Every blow could turn his insides into paste, Uryu knew, and a single one hitting true could spell disaster. At this pace, it was only a matter of time. Uryu, for all his perception and training, was not a close-quarters fighter, and even if he had been, the privaron's superior experience would prove to be his undoing.

Suddenly, he lunged out, grabbing one of the deadly arms by the wrists, and using the momentum of the privaron's own arm as it pulled back, Uryu flung himself past the arrancar, desperately firing a set of arrows to distract him. They had been aimed at his head, and struck true as the privaron turned around, but where before he had been distracted, now he simply ignored them.

He was stronger and faster than before, and unburdened by the injuries Uryu had dealt him. This could not keep on going, or Uryu would soon die. For a moment, he hoped desperately that Meninas would step in, maybe deliver him from evil after a change of heart…

But of course, it didn't happen, and Uryu threw the wish aside. He had only himself to rely on, only his own abilities to save him from death. This was up to him, and nobody else.

He had bought himself a moment's head start, at least, and he raced away, trying to buy time. In a simple chase, he seemed to have the advantage; his formal training with precision and his ability to sense his opponent's moves let him move more easily, and to anticipate a strike and use the time it took to complete it to run away even further. Slowly, as the cityscape passed by the two of them in a blur, a desperate plan began to form in his head. His opponent's raw speed was greater than his own, and his armour superior. Superior… but every armour had its weak point. One just needed to find it.

Then at last his luck ran out, and a turn too quick meant that the privaron, always at his heels, finally came within striking range. He sensed it too late to dodge; he was mid-air, and in the tenth of a second before he could get a hold of anything, he'd be hit and hit hard the one time it took…

"Blut vene!" he cried in desperation, and he felt an uncomfortable shift in his body as he called upon the technique. The fist impacted, and Uryu was shaken, sent tumbling across the street. His teeth rattled, as did his ribcage, as did his entire body, and the breath was knocked out of him. Eventually he stopped tumbling, as he hit a lamp post, not hard enough to break his back but hard enough to make him want to hurl. He lay there shaking and shivering, trying to catch his breath.

"Still alive?" he heard Gantenbainne say, his voice sounding vague and far away. "Then, stand up and meet your fate head on, like a man."

Uryu forced himself to focus, forced himself to stand upright. He was seeing three versions of the same picture, seeming to very slowly become one. He wobbled on his feet, and fought a wave of nausea, just barely breathing in.

"How did you survive?" said the privaron curiously. "A mere human should have died."

"We are… more… than you would… think," Uryu managed, his voice little more than a croak. To be honest, the use of the technique had been born of desperation; it could very easily have gone wrong and flat-out killed him, but if he hadn't used it, he would be dead already. For but a moment, his skin had become impossibly thick and resistant just where the arrancar's fist had struck, a sensation that was, when it was now applied outside the field of theory, deeply uncomfortable, like being turned inside out.

"Whatever sorcery kept you alive," said Gantenbainne, his eyes narrowing, "you are clearly on your last leg. I swear I will not make you suffer, quincy. Raise your bow in defiance, and let this end as a battle between warriors should."

"Y-you," Uryu gasped, still struggling to get his bearings, "you are… presumptuous to think this is over."

"Am I? I do not wish to insult you, but you have reached the end of the line. What is left, but a dignified end?"

"I have one last play," Uryu said, "one last chance. Isn't that worth trying? Will you not give me that opportunity as a man of honour?"

Gantenbainne harrumphed. "So be it. Make your move, young human."

Uryu took a deep breath, and mustering the last of his strength, knowing he was this close to simply expiring from exhaustion, he turned around and ran, dashing to the wall of a skyscraper.

"Running away?!" Gantenbainne cried angrily. "Is cowardice your last play, quincy? You disappoint me!"

As he spoke, he ran after Uryu, right at his heels, following him as Uryu ran up the wall, heading to the top of the building.

"There is more to strategy than meets the eye, fool!" Uryu cried.

This really was a long shot. If the privaron focused, if he was at the top of his game, this couldn't work. But for now…

"You will reach the end, and then where will you go?" Gantenbainne shouted, matching Uryu's pace up the side of the building. "Your speed is not the same mid-air. You know this!"

"Then use it, if you can!" Uryu shouted back, dodging away from a strike that shattered several windows. A second's advantage gained, Uryu raced up, up, up, higher still. He was over fifty yards up into the air, and he would hit the very end of the building within a second. This… this was a gamble, and he had nothing left but dice to roll. He could not compete in speed, nor compete in power.

Uryu reached the top of the building, and then, as if he had finally run out of steam, he went limp, falling to the ground. His fall was only slightly slowed by his tugging at the spiritual particles around him; otherwise, he was as if still, as if beaten. His bow shimmered away, its power lost. A few seconds. That was all he had before he came too close to street level to recover.

"I take it back!" the privaron cried, as he reversed course, jumping after Uryu. "It was not cowardice, but mere grandstanding! If grandeur is what you seek, then your end shall be sufficiently grand, Ishida Uryu of the quincies!"

Uryu's hand closed around his quincy cross, weakly making a fist, his lowering reserves of energy beginning to channel.

"Tell me this, privaron," he shouted back, "do you not realize you are already beaten?"

"Delusion!" Gantenbainne spat. "Do I know? Do you not know, quincy, that you are outfought? That soon, you will be a broken, bloody mess? Do you not know your death when you see it? Do you not know-"

What else Uryu was supposed to know, he never found out. In an instant, Uryu had reshaped his bow as he fell, pulled the string back with as much power as he could, and let loose an arrow. It struck true, and Gantenbainne fell silent. Uryu, realizing the ground was rushing toward him, fought desperately to regain control, and only barely managed to catch his bearings and steer toward the side of the building, dash away from its side and slow his descent just enough that the landing didn't break his back, although he couldn't stand for several minutes. When he was at last strong enough to walk, his knees on fire with the ache, he limped over to the privaron's corpse, lying still on the sidewalk. Uryu sensed carefully, but he had been right; the reiatsu was already beginning to disperse, its structural integrity compromised. He was dead.

"You fought well, Gantenbainne Mosqueda," Uryu muttered weakly, feeling something almost like regret. "In truth, it was only my feint that proved your undoing. Had you not been so overconfident…"

It really had been a gamble. Lull him into a sense of false security, and then find the exact right angle to hit the one right spot, at the exact right time, with the exact right amount of force. His arrow had struck the privaron through the mouth just as he spoke, and run up through his skull into his brain, where it had burned up from the inside. There was no exit wound, only a slight trail of smoke from the privaron's mouth. His brains had been destroyed in an instant, and it had been the only chance of success Uryu had. If he hadn't responded to that taunt…

Well, life was full of ifs and buts. Skill mattered, but so did luck, circumstance, cunning, strategy, pride, anger, and all the other little things that made them more than mere engines of battle. He stared out into the distance, and breathed. Night was falling.

Then he sensed it. A presence dwarfing the considerable strength of the arrancar he had just killed, marching lazily toward him. It was a giant, both in terms of energy and frame, broad of shoulder, muscular, and over two and a half metres tall. Four bony ridges ran over his skull, and black sideburns framed his face alongside a thick jaw-shaped mask fragment, two marks of red on his cheeks. Where Gantenbainne had been noble in bearing, albeit a bit ridiculous, this espada- because it could only be an espada, with such power- exuded an aura of bestial monstrosity.

"Well, ain't that grand," he said, taking a few steps toward Uryu. "If you could beat that trash, you might actually be fun to play around with."

Uryu steeled himself, willing his bow into existence, despite his exhaustion. Damn it! Damn it, there was another one- how could he not have noticed? Gritting his teeth, he willed his body to move, despite how sluggish it felt after the exhausting battle he'd fought.

"Name's Yammy Rialgo," said the monster, "and you, I don't care who you are, 'cause I'm gonna rip your arms off and beat ya to death with 'em."

He grinned and advanced, and Uryu raised his bow to fire.

---

Chad had felt the commotion before most of the others, and had run toward the danger as soon as he sensed it. More than most, he was eager to test his strength- he did not only want to fight, but he felt an almost pathological need to match up, to be worthy, to be the kind of fighter who could hold his own next to Ichigo. Nothing else seemed to matter. Punishment, he would gladly take. Death, he would gladly risk. He would find no catharsis in crushing an opponent, except knowing he had measured up. Nobody would have known looking on his stoic, battle-ready face, but his heart beat sped up when he cornered his opponent just by the edge of Karakura Park. This was it; this was what all his training had been for. Now, he would learn if his fullbring- and what a strange new term that still was- had the strength necessary, if Kugo Ginjou's skills had truly helped.

His opponent, of course, did not seem to feel cornered at all. He was a frightful sight, his vile body so much a contrast to Chad's athletic build; an onlooker would have seen something like an Adonis next to Quasimodo.

The arrancar would have been fearfully tall if not for his hunched back and bent legs, his back so far bent that his head was closer to his waist than to his shoulders. Long arms ended in claw-like fingernails, and he looked like a skeleton, like some ghoul drawn from a nightmare. His eyes were hidden behind a long, stripy mane of black, greasy hair, and two long bone fragments lined his chin, looking more like chitin than bone. A blade hung by his wrist, although with how long his arms were, drawing it would be difficult.

"Good evening."

The hollow spoke in a surprisingly clear tone, with eloquence that belied his ghastly appearance. Aside from a slight rasp to his speech, it sounded like the kind of voice one might hear from a school teacher, not a creature of nightmares.

"Good evening," said Chad, at a loss for what else to say. As a fighter, he was not usually aggressive- in fact, having the awareness naturally strong people do about their power, he was usually quite gentle- and he lacked the learned contempt for hollows that a shinigami or quincy would have. If it wished to attack, it would make the first move.

"I see. I see," said the arrancar, drawing in a breath. "A shame."

"Shame?"

"There is power, a measure of it, but you are not close to the strongest. Would you mind stepping aside? I'll spare your life if it means wasting no further time chasing better prey."

"I cannot do that," said Chad firmly, his choler beginning to rise. It would not dare, not now! A mixture of fear, anger, and resolve bubbled up in his chest, a natural cocktail of passion well contained behind his phlegmatic demeanour. "You have come to threaten this city. I cannot let you pass. I have made a promise that I cannot go back on. Please, do your worst!" Chad exclaimed, some of his passion spilling over with those last few words.

Briefly, the arrancar raised himself up, standing tall, and Chad heard his joints cracking. His hair fell back, and malicious black eyes stared down at Chad. He was an intimidating sight, over three metres tall, and with power to match his imposing presence.

"If you wish to die, then I suppose I'll take a minute out of my night," the arrancar said with a sigh and a shrug. "I shouldn't, but I've never been able to resist overconfidence."

Slowly, he lowered back into his normal stance, grunting as he did. "I am Ruval Vlode, the one hundred and tenth arrancar, privaron espada number ten. And you," he said, cocking his head-

"Yasutora Sado."

"-are dead meat. I don't care."

Chad held his right arm out sideways, and wordlessly, he made it take shape, the black and dark red form of Brazo Derecho del Gigante. Not a moment later, he had to twist his arm forward to block an attack from the privaron, one of his talon-like hands having slashed at Chad, striking like the head of a serpent. Chad's arm took the hit, but he reeled back doing so, nearly thrown off his feet. The privaron, it seemed clear, cared nothing for an honest fight. This was no surprise to Chad, and inwardly he cursed himself for not having expected the attack sooner, for not readying himself more quickly.

A storm of strikes ensued. The privaron's reach with his long, skeletal arms was deceptively long. Stabs and slashes came at Chad in a flurry of blows, and he could do little more than keep his guard up. A tree next to them caught a glancing blow, and was severed at the trunk in four places; a piece of rock cracked in half. The strikes were not the most polished, the most accurate form of fighting Chad had seen; they could not compare to the likes of Ichigo or Erza, but they were fast and furious. Taking one step back after another, sometimes skipping back to avoid a blow, Chad realized he could not keep up. Before too long, the sheer volume of attacks would find an opening, and by one small cut after another, he would die. He lacked a shinigami's supernatural constitution; one vital strike could instantly kill him. He had hoped to wait a little longer, but he realized now that had been a vain hope. He jumped back, then rolled to the side, the unsophisticated flurry of attacks momentarily missing, before Ruval turned around with the agility of an animal, quick as a cat. His unhealthy appearance was misleading; he was as quick as he was deadly.

But, when his arms rose for another set of strikes, Chad's arm had already transformed. From his elbow down, a thick kite shield had formed, with savage markings decorating it, hollow-like teeth snarling with an open maw. He raised his arm, and now he barely had to move compared to before, parrying each blow with relative ease. The uncontrolled strikes, which had before relied only on their speed to overwhelm him, were now stopped at every turn. Ruval snarled frustratedly, and stood back, raising his head up, and gaped. His tongue extended out, and by its tip, a thick cero began to form. Chad, confident in his strength, braced himself, buckling down behind his shield. The cero grew until it peaked, then fired. The raw force pounded down on Chad. His joints ached under the strain of it. He grit his teeth, holding on for dear life; it was only a matter of seconds until it had finished, but every second strained him to what felt like the limit.

Then it was over, the raw energies of the cero having failed, ricocheting off the shield. Smoke was rising, and Chad could see trees and bushes upended by stray shots of power that had bounced off the shield.

"The fool didn't even bother to dodge," sneered the privaron. "Well, that takes care of that…"

"Not quite," said Chad firmly, stepping out of the smoke. Ruval shrieked, half with frustration and half with surprise.

"Insolence!" he cried, his voice shrill. "What manner of human can endure that kind of punishment?"

"I can."

The simplicity of the statement seemed to enrage Ruval further, and he stood tall once more, reaching for his sword. With some effort, he pulled it from its sheath.

"I have no time to waste on the likes of you," he spat, and held the blade low. "Devour, Caníbal!

There was a surge of power, and the privaron transformed. Thick plates of bone encased him; a ribcage formed around his chest, and a spine with long, jagged boulets stuck out almost like spikes. He grew another set of arms, each reinforced with long, jagged, twisted bone. His appearance had only been reminiscent of a skeleton before; now he wore one as literal armour, an exoskeleton. His fingers were elongated, and the line between nail and claw blurred until he had only claws left in place of fingers. The upper half of a skull covered his face, and the jaw fragments elongated, long and pointed.

Wasting no time, he surged forward. Chad braced himself, but to his surprise, the claws did not scratch against his armour. Instead they elongated even further, smoothly wrapping around him like rope, constricting around his body. Two arms pinned his legs in place, a third wrapped around his shield arm, and a fourth wrapped around his torso, leaving only his left arm free. Gleeful, his prey seeming helpless, Ruval moved in closer.

"Not so tough with that little arm of yours bound, are you? I wish I had time to feast on your arrogant little body," he said, letting out a little giggle, "but I'll settle for snacking on your head, little human!"

He stood quite close now, and raised his revolting head, his jaw opening and elongating like that of a serpent, impossibly wide. Chad felt the revolting stench of half-eaten carcass on the arrancar's breath, but he kept his composure even as its jaws widened, moving closer to snap his head apart.

"Arrogance is a strange accusation, hollow," he said, making a fist with his left, "when you are the one far more guilty of it than I."

The privaron did not pause to respond, unwilling to close his slowly widening jaws, but shot him a curious look.

"Your arrogant mistake was believing this one arm was all the strength I had."

There was a slight surge of power, and from the fist to the shoulder, Chad's left arm began to turn white. A spike ran up from the shoulder, and a line of dark red ran down from the arm, ending by his fist.

"Eh?" said the arrancar, suddenly pausing, as if sensing danger.

"La Muerte!" cried Chad, his fist thrusting forward, his power surging to a peak almost instantaneously. He struck the privaron in the chest, and immediately he could feel its back break, its spine shatter. The armour of bone broke and cracked, falling into little pieces to the ground, and its grip on Chad went slack. Ruval staggered back, coughing up black blood, struggling to stand upright. A crude skull was engraved on his chest where Chad had struck him, but it was the least gruesome part of it. His skin was rapidly turning red, his insides crushed, nearly vaporised. He sunk to his knees, but even then he stood taller than Chad.

"You-you-" the privaron managed, at least one of his lungs still working well enough to speak, "you- how-"

"You are already dead," said Chad calmly.

"In-inso… len…"

He sunk from his knees down to street level, falling forward on his face. Not quite dead, but dying, and in a kind of pain Chad didn't want to imagine. For a moment, he felt some pity for it. The monster had never chosen to be a monster, after all; that choice had been made for him by a cruel and uncaring world. He let his power surge one more time, and raised a foot. With a thunderous clap, he brought it down on the privaron's head, crushing it like an egg. It was mercy of a kind, the only one Chad could have been persuaded to show to the likes of him. He stood still for a minute, watching the corpse twitch, then scraped clean his shoe against the pavement. Once he was sure the monster was dead, he let his arms turn back to normal, and walked off into the night.

Thank you, Ginjou, he thought to himself. It looks like your training paid off.

---

Ichigo didn't have to go looking for trouble. It found him. He had gotten no further than a block, uncomfortably close to his home, when his path was blocked by an arrancar. She was nearly as tall as Ichigo, and waist-length black hair flowed freely from her head. She had a graceful posture, and even the presence of a small hollow fragment running over her left eyebrow didn't take away from that. The scar over her right eye, however, did. If not for that, and if not for the look of cruel indifference on her face, she would have looked beautiful.

"So, this is the fabled militia of the Gotei," she said, giving Ichigo an inscrutable look.

"You know who I am?" said Ichigo, putting a hand on his blade, drawing it out at the ready, but not yet making any moves.

"Unlike the others, I do my research," she said with a shrug. "Kurosaki Ichigo, green but strong, and no doubt clueless as to what it means to be a lapdog to the Gotei."

"Is this the part where you're going to tell me I'm actually in the wrong, and that I should join your side, or whatever?" Ichigo snorted.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," said the arrancar, her lips curling up slightly in a cold smile that sent a shiver down Ichigo's back. "You're a boy, so of course I doubt you're open-minded enough to even think of backing down… but if you did, I couldn't kill you. I couldn't gain Lord Aizen's favor. So, please, stay a while and listen. Listen to my blade. Listen to the sound it makes when it sinks into your chest."

"Who are you?" Ichigo demanded. He sensed far greater strength in the distance, and Kuchiki Byakuya's reiatsu flaring up, no doubt engaging a much stronger foe. This… Ichigo would much rather handle something stronger. It might be a prideful thought, or arrogant, or both, but he felt as if he was meant for something bigger.

"Tarja Kovadi, the one hundred and sixth arrancar, privaron espada," she said, smoothly pulling her blade from its sheath. It was a long affair, as long as Ichigo's, but smooth and sleek, thin where his was thick.

"Privaron," said Ichigo, furrowing his brows, "as in former? Used to be an espada?"

"I will be when I bring your head," she said.

"My god, but you are desperate," Ichigo muttered under his breath. "Let me guess- you're not the only former-glory arrancar he sent out, huh?"

"None of your business," Tarja snapped.

"That's a yes. So… Aizen sends mostly yesterday's news. Because he's holding back his strongest fighters in reserve, isn't he? You're here because you're expendable, and you're too hungry to see it. Honestly, here I was hoping he'd send the real deal-"

"I'll show you real!" snarled Tarja and surged forward with the speed and agility of a wild animal, Ichigo's blade just barely blocking a strike that would have cut into his shoulder. Inwardly, he grinned. He was not that boisterous, not yet, but there had been pride there, and his provocation had worked. As she came in on him, just a little bit too fast and furious, he pushed back and slammed his head forward, feeling a gratifying crunch as his forehead connected with her nose. She staggered back, and Ichigo immediately pressed his attack, unleashing one slow, furious swing after another, pushing her back.

To her credit, Tarja recovered quickly, and although on the defensive, she met each strike; at first just barely, but soon blow for blow, strike for strike. She was no beginner, and Ichigo realized he had to take the fight seriously. He slammed his sword down in a furious vertical strike, and the privaron leaped back, evading it. Ichigo quickly brought up his blade, charging power into it within a second, and cried out, "Getsuga Tenshou!"

The crescent moon surged out, closing the short distance between them immediately, and struck home before the privaron could do more than brace herself. Her blade caught most of the impact, but all the same, blood seeped from her right shoulder and leg.

"To think the others believe the militia to be weak, a move of desperation…" she muttered, shooting Ichigo a hateful look. If she felt any serious pain, she gave no sign of it. She held her blade out, flicked it to the side, and grabbing the hilt in both hands, she surged forward.

An intense exchange followed. It was clear the arrancar, unlike its newer brethren, was well accustomed to fighting with a blade, and she matched Ichigo's natural prowess with superior experience. There were lightning-fast twists and turns, and both evaded, parried and dodged blows that could have been fatal with a reaction a millisecond slower. A human onlooker would have seen only a blur of blades, both sides seeming deadlocked.

The onlooker would have been wrong, of course. Fast as the exchange was, both of them were only testing each other's defenses yet. After a couple of minutes where neither had made any headway, they split off, staring each other down. Both felt a keen frustration. Tarja's was because she had never expected such strength or prodigious skill from a beginner like him. Ichigo's was because he knew he might be forced to go all out, something he'd rather not- he had to conserve his strength, and there was no telling how much more fighting there would be. Despite his considerable power, his management of it lacked the finesse and efficiency of a shinigami with decades of training, and if he wasn't careful, he could exhaust himself much too quickly. You had to fight smart sometimes, he remembered his aunt saying, and look to the future…

"Will this be it, then?" Tarja said sharply, pacing slowly around Ichigo, her long blade twirling smoothly in her hand. "Just the same sequences until one of us gets tired?"

"I don't think either one of us has the patience for that," Ichigo shot back, matching her pacing, "so why don't you go ahead? Why don't you show me that resurreccion?"

"Goading me?" she said, her smile widening, looking sincere in its cruelty. "You're not very subtle, boy."

"Neither is calling me 'boy' and expecting me to come at you because my ego was hurt," Ichigo shot back. "I mean, come on."

"Works with most men, I find," Tarja said with a shrug. "Worth a try."

"Are you going to talk all night, or are you going to get bogged down fighting me? Neither choice sounds appealing. Maybe you'll win an endurance contest with me, but you can't be sure of it. I'll tell you this, I sure as hell won't use my bankai until I have to. So we can do this dance all night until Aizen calls you all back, and you get to run back to master empty handed. Or you can do what you know you have to do, and show me what you really can do. What your real form is."

"You know," said Tarja conversationally, still pacing, neither one of them taking their eyes off the other, "I know you're messing with me. I know you're trying to get in my head. Put some training in, and you'd make a decent hollow."

"I wish I could say, 'Thank you,' to that kind of compliment."

"I know," she continued, "but all the same… you make a convincing argument. I only have so much time."

She held out her blade, arcing up, finally pointing it toward the sky.

"Flay, Látigos!" she cried, and her power surged as she transformed. Her blade disappeared, and her arms became a pair of long, loose coils, floating about in the air weightlessly. They were segmented, and each segment had a cruel-looking tooth on either side. Small, segmented bone armour covered them all the way up to her shoulders and neck. Her face was half obscured by bone, leaving only a small hole for her eye.

She spun the whips around in the air, which buzzed with a deadly whine. It was like some freakish mixture of a chainsaw and a whip, Ichigo thought, a storm of blades that was meant to shred anything that came near it. With the expertise of an acrobat, Tarja launched herself forward, spinning around in a graceful pirouette, the whip coils increasing their speed. Ichigo reacted quickly, jumping back and out of the way. To his surprise, though, one coil shot out more quickly than he had expected, wrapping around the hilt of his blade, forcing it to the ground. Caught off guard, Ichigo struggled to hold on to his blade, accidentally driving its edge into the street.

"Fool!" Tarja cried triumphantly, pulling herself in closer at breakneck speed, her other whip ripping toward Ichigo. He dodged low and felt the blades rake his hair, a millimetre away from cutting his skull to pieces. There was a sharp, new pain as some of the coil teeth raked his hands and wrists. Ichigo winced, but kept his composure, and as she came in close, he grabbed hold of his blade with both hands and, using it as an anchoring point, launched himself forward feet-first. His flying kick connected straight with Tarja's neck, and Ichigo felt the armour buckle under his strike. The privaron coughed, momentarily stunned by his counter-attack, and Ichigo landed on his feet. Quickly, before she could recover, he wrenched his blade free, and jumped back with a quick shunpo, putting enough distance between them- he hoped- that she couldn't reach him.

"Savage," said Tarja, admiring a segment of her whip with blood on it- his blood. "An instinctual move like that… it's like I'm back in the wastes. Oh, what a hollow you'd make, eh?"

Ichigo let his reiatsu rise. He had to end this quickly; he had no time to waste on Aizen's fodder. The city needed him as much as it needed the rest. Luckily, he had an idea of how. Her specialty seemed to be speed and agility… but judging by her movements just now, she wasn't faster than him. Not at his best. Yes, just the one move…

"Impressive," Ichigo said loudly, and held his blade up straight, pointing it toward her, laying one hand over the arm that held the blade. "I'll do you the same favour you did me, then. Bankai: Tensa Zangetsu!"

"So it's true, then," said Tarja, with a look of amused curiosity. "Even kids can unlock them these days."

Her whips spun around slowly- relative to how fast they had been before, at least- and she advanced toward him. Ichigo stared her down, feeling the power surge through him. His greatsword had become slim and lean, and a great black coat had replaced his shihakushou. His power was unleashed. Most of it.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm going to end this in one strike."

"Now who's goading?" Tarja snorted dismissively. "Speed and strength alone won't be enough. No matter what angle you come from, my arms will be there. You think I cannot keep up?"

Ichigo lowered his blade, and raised a hand to his face. "You said I was like a hollow, didn't you?"

"Aww. Did I hurt the poor baby shinigami's feewings?" Tarja mocked.

"Why don't we find out by how much?" said Ichigo darkly. He clenched his fingers inward, not quite making a fist, and slowly pulled downward. With some effort, he felt the hollow's mask begin to manifest, a sheet of white bone covering his face within seconds. Tarja, who had at first only raised an eyebrow, now opened her mouth in surprise.

"What…" she began, but Ichigo had already made his move. Charging power into his blade, he leaped forward with all the speed he could muster. Tarja appeared to be moving in slow motion, reacting out of instinct, only much too slowly. Ichigo stood behind her, not half a yard between them, and he let the power build up as he brought his blade to bear for a horizontal slash. He had prepared a Getsuga, but didn't let it discharge until his blade struck, adding an explosive amount of force to his blow.

"Getsuga Tenshou!" he cried, and his blade carved through Tarja Kovadi's waistline and arms like a hot knife through butter. In an instant, she had been cut in twain, her whip arms severed. In four pieces, she fell limp to the ground, rich, dark red blood beginning to pool at Ichigo's feet.

"H-how," she stuttered, staring up at Ichigo's hollow mask fearfully, "how… what are you?"

"I told you," said Ichigo, his voice reverberating until he dismissed the mask, "I would end it in one blow."

With a thought, he sealed his bankai, dismissing it, his Zangetsu once more becoming the thick, unwieldy blade it usually was.

"You… you bastard," Tarja growled.

Ichigo raised the tip of his blade.

"It's a bit harder this way," he said determinedly, a hint of regret in his voice. "It's a lot easier when your kind only have masks, when you don't look like people. But, at the end of the day, an arrancar is still a hollow. I hope your soul will find some peace this way, Tarja."

"Accursed shinigami son of a bitch!" Tarja cried out angrily. "It wasn't supposed to be this way! I was supposed to-"

She was cut short when Ichigo, much too good a man to prolong the suffering of the dying, brought down his thick blade on the privaron's head, his blade smashing through her mask fragment. She finally lay still, and soon, her spiritual matter began to degenerate, dissolve like dust in the wind. Ichigo shook his head, a look of distaste on his face. He knew it was nothing of the sort, but it felt like murder. He shrugged, and took off into the approaching night. There was danger still afoot, and things like moral quandaries could wait until the city was safe again.

---

Neliel stepped out of the garganta, keeping her reiatsu as low as she could. She lacked the skill necessary to hide power as great as hers, but right now, battles raged all across the city. If she went undetected long enough, that was all she needed. Beside her were her two fracciones, Dondochakka and Pesche Gatische. They had touched down on street level, no more than a block away from their target. The Urahara store. There, if anywhere, Lord Aizen had surmised, Grimmjow would be kept. The Gotei, in its ineptitude, would have no one better to lean on than the scruffy, disorganized inventor. She was to get close, sense for his energy, and keep a look-out for any type of specially enhanced environment, something her lord knew Urahara Kisuke had a penchant for. But, first…

"Dondochakka, Pesche," said Neliel, pointing a finger forward, "go make some noise. They're bound to have set a guard dog of some kind. Let them know you're here. Keep them busy. All I need are a few minutes."

"Yes, ma'am!" her two servants cried in unison, straightening up in an almost comical fashion.

"Don't die, you two," she said softly. "If you're losing, escape. Your job isn't to kill, but to distract. I don't want to come home without either one of you. Is that understood?"

"Yes… yes, ma'am," Pesche said emotionally, touched by his master's concern. "We know how to stay alive, don't we? Eh, Dondochakka?"

"Count on it!" the burly arrancar cried, making a fist.

Neliel nodded. "Go."

As the Sun set in the distance, the two arrancar charged.

---

"Two new signatures, captain!" Nozomi barked to Soifon, who had been standing still as a statue, arms crossed, ever since Erza had given her the order to remain behind. "Heading straight for us!"

"Hm. It's as the commander assumed, then. Remain at your post. I will engage the enemy head-on."

"Yes, captain!"

Smooth and agile like a cat, Soifon burst out of the room, and nobody would have guessed she had been still as a statue only a minute before. Within seconds she was out of the store, readying herself against the coming attack. They wanted the prisoner? Let them try, then.

---

Neliel bit her lip with concern as she sensed the captain-level energy approaching her servants, but forced herself to focus. She had circled around a bit, suppressing her energy still, sensing for the right thing. It didn't take her long to find it. Even weakened, she could sense Grimmjow's signature deep underground, as poorly hidden as ever. Even in disgrace, he blazed strong enough just as he was to be sensed with ease, even if he felt distant, even if it took some effort.

She was well outside the store itself, yet he was clearly almost right beneath her. This had to be the sorcery Lord Aizen had spoken of, the spatial manipulation the inventor was so fond of. She charged a cero in her hand, at minimal strength- which was still quite potent for an espada of her calibre- and aimed it downward. Quickly glancing around for enemies, she let it discharge. The burst of energy cut right through the street, blasting a hole just wide enough to jump through. To Neliel's surprise, she could see light, sand, and rock, deeply contrasting the dusk-lit urban cityscape around her. Without stopping to ponder it further, she jumped down the hole, landing smoothly on the rocky surface. Not ten yards away, she could see him.

Grimmjow had hastily stood up, his one fist clenched and his teeth grit. Neliel pulled her blade from its sheath, staring him down.

"Fuckin' Neliel," he spat. "Figures it'd be an idiot goody-two-shoes like you."

"Our lord didn't forget about you," Neliel said determinedly. "Now, will you make this easy or will you make it hard?"

"Do you need to fuckin' ask?" said Grimmjow, raising a fist.

"I thought so," said Neliel, and with a sigh, she advanced toward him. No matter what, this was her mission and she would fulfil it.

---

Man, it feels so good to finally have another chapter out. I cant wait to hear what you all thought about this one. There are a few things id like to cover though if you don't mind.

1. Tatsuki's true power: Ive been having a hard time figuring out just what to give her once she had out grown her staff. I eventually just let Greatkingrat88 come up with the idea, and what we came up with was thus. It was admittedly inspired by the raikage's lighting armor, and used in his own fanfiction "A Grim Tale of Reapers." but I think it works really well for her, even if she hasn't quite mastered it yet.

2. Privaron Espada OC's. I wanted more arrancar to be around to not only show case what our karakura town protectors can do and show just how powerful they had become with their recent training, but I also wanted to save many of the cannon arrancars to fight in the final battle. Thus making OC's was the option we went with, and considering we only saw 3 of the former generation of Espada, making them privaron seemed the most fitting. My personal favorite was Tarja. Greatkingrat really did a good job with them all, but I really liked her the most.

The next chapter is going to also be a really fun one, I can promise you all that. I'm eagerly looking forward to what all of you thought, so please leave us a review and give us your thoughts. We'd really apricate it after all the hard work we put into this chapter.