Greetings my dear readers and welcome to the last chapter of "The Death and Life of Erza Scarlet" for 2019. It's been a crazy year for us hasnt it? From various arrancar battles, to our interpretation of the fullbring arc, and finally the Huecco Mundo invasion. We've covered alot of ground im pleased to say. I am hopeful that by 2020 we will have finished the arrancar arc and move onto newer things, but you never know what surprises life may throw at you. Still, thank you all for the support and reviews that you have left for this story. It's truly appericated.
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 was not the type to grin. It was rather an undignified expression of satisfaction, much too excessive and betraying a lack of self-control. Still, he smiled quite genuinely as he watched things unfold. The Gotei seemed to have planned this invasion as well as they could. Using the intelligence they had gained from that wretched traitor Grimmjow, they had hit three central locations and attempted to root out his strongest warriors. But, Las Noches was a vast place, a deadly maze for any attacker, and all Aizen had had to do is issue some quick orders to his espada. Hundreds of shinigami spilling into his realm, and for what? He'd let the hollow chaff and lesser arrancar deal with it. They had died in droves, but none of it had mattered. Coming into his realm had meant the Gotei allowing him to choose the conditions by which to fight. As if he'd ever send his strongest espada right into the arms of the Gotei's strongest fighters. No, he had let them come in deep and then, he had seen them picked apart. The gambit had been to lure out him and his best, no doubt counting on his pride and arrogance. Aizen was certainly not a humble man, but he wasn't stupid. He had held Barragan in reserve and sent Starrk back after he had brutalized his weaker opponents. Halibel had triumphed, and so had Neliel. The day was his, and the Gotei was on the brink of annihilation.
Aizen felt tempted to laugh. The Gotei had charged headfirst into him, and all Aizen had had to do is straighten up a blade for them to impale themselves onto. Surveying the scenes of carnage across the mass of monitors, he felt elation. He had won. There was nothing else to it. With his espada all alive, what other outcome could there be? All that remained was to see whether the old fool committed to this insane attack, whether Aizen would be able to deal the Gotei the coup de grâce now or later.
Oh, it hadn't been all his way, sure. Kaname was dead. The idiot had let himself get bested by the one person who would know how to defeat him and resorted to a last-ditch use of his unfinished, imperfect hollow powers. Aizen really didn't care. Kaname had been a good lieutenant, and Aizen would miss his organizational skills and dedication, but at the same time he had been flawed. Imperfect. He had been blind, and not just literally. Aizen would rather Kaname hadn't died, he supposed, but this was war, and if the only real loss he'd felt was Kaname, then so be it. Oh, well.
"Sir?"
The sarcastic drawl invited genuine mirth in Aizen. He was surprised Gin wasn't out there, slaking his bloodthirst on hapless shinigami. Perhaps he was waiting for something bigger; perhaps he was just playing one of his petty games. Aizen didn't care.
"Gin," said Aizen calmly, "please assemble the espada currently not engaged in battle. This will be over quite soon."
"Ya got it, boss," said Gin, giving a mocking little salute.
Normally, Aizen might have been a little irritated by the psychopath's childish provocations, but right now nothing could dampen his mood. He turned back to the screens, and his smile widened into something dangerously close to a grin. The world he had worked so long to make was close, now, so close he could almost taste it.
The blows came down, rapid and mighty. The giant blades clashed with the fiery giant's rocky arms in furious collisions, each strike seeming to shake the foundations of the chamber they fought in. Ikkaku was shirtless, having ripped his burnt jacket away, and sweat mixed with blood as he furiously worked his spade and guan dao. It was a legendary clash, and any ordinary shinigami would have been awed to see it, two enormously powerful creatures of equal strength trying their very hardest to kill each other.
Ikkaku, of course, had no notion of glory attached to his combat. He had even lost the normal joy of throwing himself into battle with all he had, of trying his very hardest and pushing himself to the edge. Hate drove his strikes now, his lust for battle replaced with a lust for vengeance. Iba was dead. A hard fighter, a drinking buddy, a respectable warrior and a good man, gone forever. Ikkaku was not sentimental, but the arrancar had crossed a line.
"God damn," Zancrow growled, gritting his teeth as the spade bit deep into the rock-encrusted arm of his fiery form. "Where'd this strength come from? I thought you were all talk."
"Yeah?" snarled Ikkaku, pushing his advantage. "You thought you had me figured out, didn't you? Well, I ain't nearly done!"
Behind him, the dragon crest was slowly turning red, from tail to nose. His power had been rising steadily, slowly awakening. He parried a powerful strike with his right, sliding back a few paces before lashing out with his guan dao. It caught Zancrow in the side, and the arrancar grunted with pain. Zancrow growled, and a massive wave of heat radiated from his center, forcing Ikkaku back, his skin blistering under the superheated air. Even with his strike broken, Ikkaku stood up with a confident look and with a cruel grin spreading across his face. He assumed a stance: left side forward, left arm pointing straight out and right arm bent over his head, pointing both weapons at the arrancar. Behind him, the dragon glowed red.
"He just woke up," said Ikkaku matter-of-factly, "and now I'm gonna kill ya."
Zancrow stared at him, seeming hesitant for a second. Ikkaku hoped it would be doubt, fear, because as much as he meant it when he said he was going to take the espada's life, he was starting to get tired. He was wounded and worn, and although Ryuumon Houzukimaru made him stronger, it took more power to use in return. If this turned into a slugfest…
But, at the same time, it wasn't hard to tell the espada's form would eat up a lot of energy, too. He had no idea how this was going to turn out.
It was so, so weird to see her like this. Erza was mighty. She was the strongest person Momo knew, powerful mentally, physically, and morally. Seeing her lie on a cot, deathly pale, felt very wrong. She looked small somehow, as if defeat had shrunk her. The sight of her tore at Momo's heart. Her lover, a bloodied mess, cut up in a dozen places, her blood soaking the white sheet she lay on. Her sword arm was missing, leaving a bloody stump. Momo couldn't stop staring at it. It was almost a clean cut, and the white of the bone in her arm could be seen. The sight of it disgusted Momo, made her heart ache even worse, but she couldn't look away.
"H-how is she?" Momo whispered. She sat on her knees, her fingernails digging into her palms as she watched Isane work. The medic had dropped what she was doing the moment Momo had dragged Erza into the field hospital zone and made room for her and had worked on her ever since. Isane looked a mess, herself. Her uniform was stained and moist with drying blood. Her sleeves were rolled up, and coagulating blood covered most of her arms up to the elbows. Around them, row upon row of the wounded and dying lay, their groans making up a cacophonic choir of misery, but Momo barely noticed it.
"Just a second…" said Isane, weaving her hands in a pattern Momo recognized as advanced medical kidou. She had worked her craft expertly for over ten minutes now. She had stopped the bleeding, infused more spiritual energy, anything to keep Erza alive.
"She's stable," Isane mumbled with a nod, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. It left a shade of reddish-pink, like some tasteless war paint clumsily applied.
"That's… good," Momo said, not quite sure what to say.
"I've done as much as I can do for her at the moment," Isane continued. "She's not dying. She came… Momo, she was very close. Another minute or two, and she would have been gone. If it wasn't for you…"
"I mean, it's my job, you know?" Momo said, her eyes never leaving Erza. "I can't imagine…" The thought of it, knowing how close it had been, was a bit too much. Momo bent over, fighting back the urge to vomit.
"She's safe," Isane assured her, patting Momo's shoulder with a sticky hand, "for now."
"Mhm," Momo murmured weakly, sitting upright again.
"She's not the only one," said Isane. "Renji and Lisanna are being brought here, I'm told. My captain is bringing in Captain Zaraki, too."
Momo blinked. Four captains defeated, one of them Kenpachi? A fifth one dead, too… what the hell had gone wrong?
Looking down at Erza, it was too much to just sit there and do nothing.
"You can fix her, can't you?" she whispered weakly, a tear trailing down her cheek.
"…Sure," Isane said, "if I had a month or so of bed rest and intense medical therapy to give her. Which I don't have. I can't do anything about the arm, either."
"I know someone who can," Momo said, the whisper slowly rising in tone. Of course! "Karakura. Orihime!"
"Oh-oh, right," Isane said. "Erza refused to take her on this mission, didn't she? Can't say I blame her."
"I'm taking her," Momo said resolutely, standing up. "I'll get us right to Karakura this instant. A senkaimon should do it."
"Momo, w-wait," Isane said, surprised. "You- we're in the middle of a military operation. There are security protocols in place."
"Isane," said Momo calmly, her fears and anxieties melting away, replaced with determination, "I love you, but do not try to stop me. I'm not going to let her stay like this another moment."
"…I was going to say," Isane replied, her voice hushed, "that you had better do it quietly. It shouldn't be much of an issue with things being the way they are, but it doesn't hurt."
"Oh," said Momo. "I, uh, I appreciate it. Thanks."
"Get her safe and get her healed," Isane said with a nod. "It's better that someone gets the care they need."
She nodded at the field hospital, and Momo knew what she meant. The wounded were coming in more quickly than Fourth could handle them. There had to be hundreds here now.
"I'll see you around," said Momo. "If anyone asks…"
"Who knows?" said Isane. "There are people coming and going all the time. I can't keep track of everyone."
Momo nodded gratefully. Muttering a few words, she let a simple kidou spell wrap around Erza, gently levitating her off the ground. Forget the rules. They had done their part here, and then some.
"Stand still, you fuckin' asshole!"
Nnoitra's frustration drove Grimmjow's cheer into something close to ecstasy. After being pent up, emasculated, humiliated, and forced to think about things he really never wanted to think about for so long, the lightning-fast thrills of mortal combat were like a soothing balm to him. This was being alive. This was Grimmjow doing what Grimmjow did best, giving his all to kill or be killed.
With ease, he dodged under another slow swing, lunging forward to jab the sexto in the face once more, ducking away from a counter-strike from Nniotra's off-hand. Light on his feet, Grimmjow skipped back a few paces. He was untouched so far. Nnoitra was lethal and powerful to be sure, and Grimmjow hadn't put a dent in him yet, but at the same time his great weapon was too clumsy to catch a lighter, faster opponent.
"Whatsa matter?" Grimmjow said, grinning maliciously. "You ain't getting tired already, are ya?"
"You fuckin' wish, you little rat bastard," Nnoitra sneered. "It'd take you a lifetime to wear me down!"
Grimmjow quickly thought it through. Nnoitra had earned his place the hard way, just like Grimmjow had done, but as dangerous as he was, he was losing his cool. And if you lost your cool, you got stupid. You made mistakes you wouldn't otherwise.
Deciding to see how much further he could push it, Grimmjow evaded another vicious strike, and said, "Ya sure ya won't wanna call in Halibel for this? I could never take her. Maybe we should get Neliel in here, too. I mean, ya clearly can't handle me on your own. Let's let a bunch o' women bail ya out. You made a habit o' that, right?"
Nnoitra's grip on his polearm tightened, and he lunged forward. Grimmjow jumped over him in a graceful somersault, and grabbed the espada by the hair as he landed. He firmly yanked it back, and Nnoitra fell on his back, surprised by the attack. As his head hit the floor, Grimmjow's foot came down on his face, grinding him into the floor.
"Look at you," Grimmjow said sadistically, "right at home under my boot."
Come on, you stupid bastard. You've always got too much ego for your own good.
A deep, throaty snarl emerged from Nnoitra's throat, followed immediately by a cero. Grimmjow jumped back, evading a wild strike from the polearm as Nnoitra got to his feet.
"You son of a bitch," Nnoitra spat, gritting his teeth. He was close, now.
"Need a second to wipe the dirt off your face?" Grimmjow said with a snigger. "Sorry 'bout the inconvenience, big guy. Then again, I bet you're used to getting walked all over."
A pulse of spiritual energy emitted from the furious espada, and Grimmjow's smile widened.
"That fucking does it," Nnoitra said, raising his polearm high. "I'm about to wipe you away from existence like the rat you are. Pray, Santa Teresa!"
"About fuckin' time," Grimmjow said, letting his own reiatsu rise in accordance as he bent over, holding his blade to his side. "Grind, Pantera!"
The combined release of force made the floor of the hall tremble, kicking up dust and cracking the tiles where they stood. Nnoitra stood tall, his chest exposed, sporting six arms covered in bony carapace, each one wielding a long, deadly scythe. Two horns sprouted from his skull, forming the shape of a crescent moon.
Grimmjow, for his part, looked only slightly less inhuman than the espada before him. He was covered in smooth, bony carapace, leaving only a little of his chest exposed. His feet and hands ended in claws. A great, wide mane of blue hair extended from his head down all the way below his waist, and a crest of bone framed his hairline. His ears were long and furred, and his canines had grown to real fangs. A tail extended from the back of his spine, and sharp spines jutted out from his calves and elbows.
"What're you waiting for?" Grimmjow said, flexing his muscles. "What, you about to punish me in the name of the moon?"
"Real cute, kitty-cat," Nnoitra hissed, raising his arms. He advanced toward Grimmjow, who crouched low.
So, that's what he looks like. Grimmjow had never seen Nnoitra's resurrección before, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. It looked like it at least did away with the problem of having such a slow weapon. He had to be a little careful… but then again, Nnoitra wouldn't know anything about Pantera, either.
The sexto charged, scythes raised, and Grimmjow lunged like an animal. But before he could reach, a glancing blow from a scythe caught him in a shoulder, and five more raked him across his chest and legs as he scrambled back. There were scrapes and cuts in his armour, and he felt the sting of pain as blood seeped from the shallow cuts. Nnoitra moved forward, his six arms working like whirlwind of sharp death. Grimmjow dodged, parried and evaded with the grace and expertise of a true survivalist, but even with his speed he found no openings. It was Nnoitra who was smiling now, pushing the former espada back step by step.
"Who's slow now, asshole?" he sneered gleefully. Another scythe raked across Grimmjow's form, then another, then another. On the defensive, constantly attacked from all angles, even Grimmjow couldn't evade it. Fuck! No, he couldn't let him set the pace. Fighting him on his terms wasn't a winning move. He skipped back a few paces, Nnoitra hot on his heels. Grimmjow breathed in deep, and as Nnoitra charged again, he let out a loud, ear-piercing roar. The sound reverberated across the entire hall, the sonic shockwave of it momentarily driving Nnoitra back a few paces. The sexto shook his head, recovering from the blast.
"You think that'll do it, you little bitch?"
"Just a start," said Grimmjow, and the tips of his fingers came aglow as he raised his hands. Slicing them downward, two sets of five blue, glowing lines of energy manifested, attached to the tips of his fingers.
"Desgarrón!" Grimmjow cried, letting the razor-sharp lines shoot forward. Nnoitra braced himself, suddenly pushed back almost a hundred yards from the sheer force of the attack. Holding on to his scythes, he parried the strikes unflinchingly. That, Grimmjow knew, was his mistake. You didn't parry this. You dodged it. Flexing his arms, he let the desgarrón come loose. At once, ten lines of raw force struck Nnoitra, cutting through his defenses. Four lines of red formed two X-marks on his torso, blood flowing from the fresh wounds.
"So, you parried six of them after all, huh?" Grimmjow said with a grin, launching himself into the air. "Impressive. But…"
It took him but a moment to reappear high in the air, just behind Nnoitra. He bent his arm in, and pointed an elbow at the espada's back.
"Garra de la Pantera!" Grimmjow cried, and five green darts surged through the air, homing in on their target. Nnoitra had already spun around to face him, but he couldn't parry the darts that were not even the size of a finger. They struck home, and a moment later they exploded. Nnoitra's chest was ravaged with the shock of it, and the espada cried out as he fell to his feet. Grimmjow howled with joy, leaping toward him as he fell. He waved out of the way of a cero, his clawed hands ready to strike. To his surprise, though, Nnoitra was already half on his feet, scythes raised, when Grimmjow closed in on him. At the last second, Grimmjow twisted to the side, and four scythe-arms sliced through the air where he'd have been a moment later. Turning his fall into a roll, Grimmjow neatly sprang to his feet. Carefully, he studied the espada. His torso had been shredded, a raw and bloodied mess, but although it looked nasty it seemed like it hadn't done nearly enough.
"Damn," said Grimmjow, "you are one tough bastard, ain't ya?"
"You think they gave me a rank higher than you for nothing?" Nnoitra sneered. "If that's all you got, you better start digging your own grave right now, you rat bastard!"
Grimmjow cracked his knuckles and shifted his shoulders a little, his grin reappearing. "Ranks are for suckers," he said, stretching himself out, "and me, I'm glad you ain't a pushover. Wouldn't be worth killing ya if you was. Make me work for it."
"Fuckin' arrogant clown."
"Y'know, I'm the cat here," said Grimmjow playfully, "but you're still somehow the biggest pussy in the room."
Nnoitra grit his teeth and charged, spitting a curse. Grimmjow leaped into the air, feeling a kind of joy he had almost forgotten. All or nothing. Die, or climb a notch higher on the ladder. No matter how it turned out, this would be a hell of a fight.
Soifon raced through the halls at full speed, a black streak rushing past the fighting in a blur. There were battles everywhere she went. The hollows were renewing their attacks; the shinigami companies of sixth division were surrounded and beleaguered. They were pressed hard, but Soifon didn't pause to help. She had a mission, and soldiers dying didn't bother her. This was their job.
No, right now, she needed to support Captain Kuchiki. When the order came out, he would need all the help he could get. Ulquiorra Cifer, judging by the reports, was every bit as formidable as the data had suggested. Even with the help of that undisciplined auxiliary, there seemed to be only so much he could do.
A hollow threw aside the dismembered corpse of a slain soldier and made a swipe at Soifon. Without hesitation, Soifon slid under the clumsy attack and kept running. Killing it would have been a moment's work, but she had bigger fish to fry.
They were losing. There was no doubt about it. Ichigo's arms ached, and it felt like a miracle each time he managed to parry a blow. His hollow's mask was gone; no amount of concentration could maintain it anymore. Ulquiorra was dominating the battle now, effortlessly putting them both on the defensive. Whenever Byakuya would try to take advantage of an opening left by the espada attacking his ally, Ulquiorra would spin around to parry. The only reason they hadn't died yet was that working as a team, they could at least watch each other's backs.
"Well, damn," Ichigo said, breathing heavily as the espada took a step back, seemingly to re-evaluate his strategy for a moment. "I'm all out of steam. I guess… I guess this is as good of a last stand as anyone could have asked for, right?"
"Would your aunt approve of such defeatism?" said Byakuya firmly. The nobleman looked a mess. His hair piece had broken, and strands of hair hung down over his face, giving him an unkempt look totally at odds with the dignified image he normally kept. There was a cut across the left side if his face, splitting his lips. His white coat had stains of red all over it, and Ichigo wasn't sure if it was the nobleman's blood, his own, Ulquiorra's, or all three at once. "Even in the face of annihilation and no matter the odds, we never yield, and we never accept defeat. If we die, we die, but we do not accept death until it is truly inevitable. To do any less is to give up. You might as well cut your own throat if you're ready to die, Kurosaki Ichigo."
"God damn," Ichigo muttered. "I never expected you to be the one lecturing me like that."
"He'll come at us again momentarily," said Byakuya, ignoring the comment. "When he does, I will meet the charge. You will still be faster than I am. Use it. Press him hard from the flanks. Nobody has an impenetrable defense. He may not look it, but he is tiring, too."
"Not fast enough."
"…Like I said," Byakuya said quietly, "nobody has an impenetrable defense."
But, he's not wearing out quickly enough. The nobleman hadn't contradicted him, because even though he had just shamed Ichigo for his words, he knew it, too: There was no winning this. Sixth division had already retreated from the chamber, ordered to fall back to the closest rally point. For as long as Ulquiorra held this location, this was a dead-end for the invasion.
It seemed Ulquiorra had deliberated long enough because he charged, spear hanging low. Byakuya met his attack head-on, parrying a thrust that would have skewered him had he been the fraction of a second slower. Ichigo pushed aside the growing sense of helplessness and sped around to the side, bringing Tensa Zangetsu down on the arrancar. Just like so many times before, Ulquiorra moved out of the way, to the side.
"Soukatsui!" Byakuya cried, and blue flames washed over the espada as he evaded. Deciding to add to the fire, Ichigo cried "Getsuga Tenshou!", and a black arc of energy, limned in red, struck out at the espada. He faced the attack head-on, his spear severing the attack in two. It had been the very last of the hollow energy Ichigo had left, and the espada hadn't even bothered to dodge the hit. He stood there, ignoring the dying blue flames eating away at his form to little avail, still like a statue.
What sort of monster is he? The thought passed Ichigo's mind unbidden. They had thrown everything they had at him, and it still hadn't been enough.
"You are a strange creature," Ulquiorra said, turning his eyes to Ichigo, "a shinigami in form, but the more I fight you, the more you remind me of a hollow. Fearsome though you may be relative to the ants you walk among, you are a poor imitation of the real thing. I will show you what a real hollow looks like."
Then he was gone in a flash, reappearing in front of Byakuya. Ichigo saw it all happen as if in slow motion. He was fast, unbelievably so. He had raised his hand, a finger pointed at the captain's chest. A small, black orb had formed at the tip of his finger. It felt like a cero- but a cero shouldn't be this small, and it shouldn't take so little time to charge.
"Cero oscuras," said Ulquiorra. Byakuya's eyes widened, but Ichigo knew that as sharp as the man's reflexes were, he wouldn't be able to get away in time.
Acting on pure instinct, Ichigo threw himself forward the moment he saw Ulquiorra's raised finger. As Ulquiorra spoke the words, there was Ichigo, his palm slamming into Byakuya's chest. The captain was thrown off his feet just as the cero discharged, and Ichigo felt a quick, sharp pain before everything went numb.
Byakuya scrambled to his feet, blade in hand. The discharge of power had been massive. The orb's size had been quite deceptive; the wall of the far chamber had been demolished, and Byakuya had no doubt it would have killed nearly anything it hit. The Kurosaki boy was on his knees, and there was an ugly hole on the left side of his coat, and in the side of his chest. Charred flesh mixed with raw, sizzling muscle and bone, blood seeping out before being vaporized, turned into steam. Somehow the boy was still conscious, on his knees and staring up at the espada dimly. Ulquiorra raised his spear, aiming it downward.
"Souren Soukatsui!" Byakuya snarled, the spell catching the espada off guard. As the cloud of blue flames enveloped Ulquiorra, momentarily causing him to stagger back, Byakuya rushed to the boy's side.
"This was foolish," Byakuya said, his mind still processing what had just happened. He had been completely blindsided by the espada's attack, and that cero… it had formed instantaneously. Another moment, and he would have been dead. Not in a million years would he have expected such self-sacrifice. Not from a low-born, ill-mannered cur with no real understanding of honor.
"Yeah, well," Ichigo murmured, barely conscious, "I'm pretty sure that isn't news to you. Always… been a fool to you, right?"
Byakuya balled a fist. This wasn't right. The boy was going to die, no older than fifteen, yet braver still than almost anybody Byakuya had met. He grabbed the boy by the right arm, pulling him to his feet. He at least wouldn't die on his knees. He would at least meet a warrior's end, alongside Byakuya. As… an equal.
"Attention all Gotei forces! This is Kyouraku Shunsui, speaking on behalf of captain-commander Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryuusai!"
The voice rang out as if from nowhere, but Byakuya recognized the spell. Field communications was one of the most practical uses of kidou.
"All forces are to fall back to their rally points and withdraw to the invasion staging grounds in an orderly fashion. You are all ordered to retreat. Your routes will be covered by the captains in reserve. I repeat, all forces: you are ordered to retreat!"
"…Ya hear that, Captain Kuchiki?" Ichigo said dimly. "We're all goin' home. Right?"
A wheeze came from the boy's mouth, and Byakuya supposed it had to pass for a laugh. The irony of it wasn't lost on him. They were ordered to fall back, but for the two of them, there was no escape. They were too weak now, and left to the mercy of an espada with plenty of strength to spare.
"My division managed to retreat, at least," Byakuya murmured under his breath. "They will all be able to go on. Even without me."
Ulquiorra had recovered already, staring them both down with the patience of a predator before a cornered rat. Byakuya's arm trembled, and it took some effort to hold on to his blade. His bankai was all but spent, and with Kurosaki down, this was the end of the line. Briefly, he spared a thought for Rukia, hoping she would make it out.
"Just as Lord Aizen foresaw," said Ulquiorra, slowly advancing on them, "this invasion was always destined to fail."
He raised the spear, and Byakuya raised his blade in kind. It was more of a symbolic gesture at this point; he was still holding on to the boy, and he would barely be able to move. But, symbolic resistance was all he had left. It would have to do.
Then a black streak slammed into Ulquiorra as if out of nowhere, sending the espada staggering back. Byakuya blinked. He hadn't even sensed her coming. It was Captain Soifon, her coat discarded. The espada towered over her, winged and dreadful, but she looked unafraid.
"Captain Kuchiki!" she cried out, never taking her eyes off her enemy. "You were given an order, weren't you?"
"…Yes," Byakuya said, the idea of survival sinking in. He had been ready to die but a moment ago. "Yes, of course."
"I'll cover your retreat," Soifon said firmly, "so hurry up, back the way you came."
Ulquiorra gave her a look, like she was vermin. "They are not leaving."
Deciding to trust the captain on her word, Byakuya slung the Kurosaki boy over his shoulder and, ignoring the ache of his wounds, began to head for the exit. Behind him, Ulquiorra surged forward, spear raised, but before he could take another step, Soifon had blocked his way.
"Shunkou!" she cried, and dodged under a thrust from the spear. There was a massive burst of energy, and she launched herself into the air, a roundhouse kick catching the espada in the head. He staggered back again, gritting his teeth in frustration.
"Out of my way," he said.
"That will not happen. You'll find that I'm not the kind of threat that can be ignored, Ulquiorra Cifer."
There was a flash of sonido, and Ulquiorra tried to move around her again, but before he could reach Byakuya, a fist caught him in the solar plexus, explosively amplified by the kidou-powered technique Soifon was employing. Ulquiorra gasped as his diaphragm collapsed. In front of his eyes, Kuchiki Byakuya walked through the chamber door carrying Kurosaki Ichigo, heading away.
Soifon took a stance. She was very unsure of her ability to defeat this monstrous opponent, at least not without going all out, but she didn't need to. All she needed to do was buy some time.
Szayel was in a very, very bad mood. This pint-sized, unremarkable shinigami bitch had not stopped pressing him even for one second. His skin was going white with the cold, and in some places a worrying shade of blue. His mask fragment had fragmented even further from an inglorious blow to his temple, where a bruise was forming. As he lashed out with a wide stroke, wishing badly that he had spent more time practicing with the barbaric weapon, she dodged under the attack, surged forward, and slammed the hilt into his gut.
Again.
It was to his relief when he heard the call go out across the halls, the order to retreat. Not long ago he had delighted in thoughts of how he'd torture her, but right now he would be happy just to have this miserable experience done with. Her blade had come to rest right at his neck, well inside his guard, and she had paused right there as the meaning of the words washed over her.
"What's wrong?" said Szayel confidently. "Why don't you test just how thick my hierro is, woman?"
"I would very much like to," she said sharply, "but luckily for you, I have no time left to waste here. My company has already fallen back. That leaves only me."
She took a step back, blade still raised. Szayel already thought of how he'd catch her, how he'd release his blade and make her pay-
Then there was an icy cold gale, and a wall of ice slammed into him, a last, obnoxious gift from the ill-mannered shinigami woman. Szayel was knocked off his feet. When he broke free from the icy debris he could see her running away, already dashing out of the chamber. Part of Szayel wanted to give chase. Another, much more significant part of him knew that they would already have some captives left behind. Wounded soldiers… who wouldn't put up so much damned resistance.
Szayel was not above pettiness, hate, or revenge, but he was above chasing them needlessly.
Go ahead, you lucky little bitch, he thought as the shinigami disappeared from view. Lord Aizen will deal with all your kind in time anyway.
Unohana bent down, and gingerly she picked up Kenpachi's bulky form in a bridal carry. Even with the care she had given him, he was a mess, and she knew that he needed much more work if he was ever going to recover. The espada had done a number on him. Unohana had had to care for him many times across the years, but only a handful of those times compared to the monstrous damage he had taken now. The bandages she had wrapped around his chest, already dyeing pink with the blood and fluids seeping through, hid a gaping hole that would rightly have killed any lesser man. It was a testament to his constitution, his inhuman fortitude, that he was still alive. She doubted anyone except perhaps Yamamoto would have lived through such a wound.
Looking down on him with a compassionate smile, almost like a mother staring down at her son, she took the first step toward the exit. She had heard the order as clearly as had everyone else, and it only confirmed what she had suspected. The invasion had failed. Aizen had not taken the bait, instead opting to let them all spread thin.
"Wait."
Neliel Tu Oderschvank barred her way, sword in hand. She was staring down, the bone of the mask fragment on her skull obscuring her eyes. Blood and tears stained her face.
"Did your friends recover?" said Unohana matter-of-factly. "I am quite sure I stabilized them."
"They did. But-"
"In that case, remember what I said. I do not know what sort of medical readiness you have here in Las Noches, but if it were me, I would make sure to keep them in bed for at least a month with consistent application of medical kidou to ensure a full recovery, with checkups every day until the worst of the injuries show signs of proper healing. I believe the latent healing abilities of a hollow should be quite useful to you, but I'd rather not make too many assumptions. Regardless, I would say their chances of living are quite high if you ensure continued medical treatment."
"I… believe you," Neliel whispered.
"Then, what is the issue?"
Unohana believed she already knew, but she was not going to act like there was anything wrong. If anyone would go back on their word, it wouldn't be she.
"Lord Aizen… he wouldn't like it if I just let you walk away."
"What do you think, young lady?" said Unohana, her voice calm and reasonable. She was well aware of the effect she had on people. She'd had centuries to perfect her craft, to make people feel like they never wanted to disappoint her.
"I… I think…"
Unohana observed the quinta carefully. She was a people person. It came with the profession. If she was right, and she usually was, the blade was for show more than anything else. The way her arm trembled, the way her voice wouldn't stay firm… no, she didn't want violence. She was trying to reconcile two different beliefs. Unohana knew which one she'd prefer to see triumphant.
"I think," said Unohana, before the espada had any more time to think, "that you're very loyal. That you've defeated one of the Gotei's most notorious warriors in single combat. I also think that you believe in doing good for goodness's sake. I gave you my word, and you gave yours. You do not want to walk back on that, because you do not want to be the kind of person who does. Because it's ordinary, deceitful hollows who say one thing and then betray the one they bargained with. But you are a better person than that, and you know it."
"B-but," Neliel said, her voice trembling, "we're enemies. I'm supposed to kill you on sight. I mean…"
She slowly shook her head, grasping her blade tightly.
"It's supposed to be a lot easier than this, you know?" She mumbled weakly. "Lord Aizen… he's told us all about you. About the ruthlessness. The refusal to accept change. How you think we're all inhuman monsters."
"He's right. About some of us, at least. We look at you and we see the same as you do: a ruthless enemy that is beneath any moral consideration, fit only to be killed. But looking at you, I know they're wrong."
Unohana took a step forward, keeping a watchful eye on the espada's sword.
"You're a vasto lorde. They say your kind is more human than most. I think they're right. I think you want to stand by your word, because there is some decency in you. If you want to prove the people who hate you right… then you will have to stab me in the back."
Unohana took another step forward, past the espada, hoping she hadn't misjudged the woman.
"It's all about who you want to be. Aizen or no Aizen, what sort of person are you if you go back on your word?"
She heard the clatter of a blade dropping to the floor.
"He almost killed them."
Unohana stopped and looked back. "I know. This is war. It's not going to be any less ugly than this. We've lost… people, too. At least your friends are still alive- so long as you get them someplace safe. I would see that done sooner rather than later if I were you."
Neliel stared at her, emotion written plainly in her face. It was strange- in the features of a hollow, Unohana could see more compassion than in most of their soldiers.
"…I will," she said at last.
"Good. It would be a shame for my hard work to go to waste."
Neliel nodded. With that, Unohana began walking again, one step at a time. Neliel spared her another confused look, before hurrying back to the side of Pesche and Dondochakka.
Jellal was breathing heavily. He could go on for some time, he was sure of it, but his movements were getting slower. A single wrong step and he'd be encased in ice, at the mercy of a captain… and the longer things went on, the more of a certainty that one wrong step became.
The captain, for his part, looked no better off. Half of the petals were gone. So far, though, Jellal hadn't laid a finger on him. His only shot was winning a war of attrition, and he sincerely doubted he would.
"You're very good," Jellal said, temporarily resting on his arm joints. "No wonder they call you a child prodigy."
"I'm almost twenty, you know," said Hitsugaya.
"Seriously?"
"Shinigami aging. Not much I can do about it. I'll probably look like a teenager till I'm fifty. It works out great when you look like you're in your twenties for a century, but it's not as much fun before that."
Maybe it was the weariness that had broken him down, but Jellal couldn't help but laugh. "Are you joking?"
"Do I sound like the joking type to you?"
"No, no," said Jellal, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You might not look like it, but you definitely sound grown up."
"Do not patronize me."
"I'm not," said Jellal with a sigh.
"Enough talking. Let's end this."
"It's already over," said Jellal, shaking his head. "You heard the order as well as I did. You lost the battle. You're to retreat."
"I will not be provoked by you."
"Look," said Jellal, taking a step back. "Let's… call it here, why don't we? I can't beat you. Not like this. You're too good. And you can't seem to beat me either. Personally, I'd like to live. If the battle is over, I'd rather not risk my life anymore, not if it isn't necessary. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I can't risk turning my back on you."
"No, I understand that. I kept you busy, didn't I?"
"Busy enough, at least."
Jellal stood up straight, balancing his bulky body of bone on his legs, and with a thought he let it all fall apart. The form of his resurrección disappeared into nothingness, sealed in his blade again.
"There," said Jellal, lowering his blade.
"If I attacked," said Hitsugaya, furrowing his brows in confusion, "I could probably overwhelm you."
"It's a risk, yes. But, then again, I had to take the first step. We hollows, we aren't known for being honourable or charitable."
Slowly, the captain's bankai began to fade away. "Sheathe your blade," he said.
Jellal took a deep breath. That would leave him very exposed, indeed. Hoping that he hadn't misjudged the captain, he slowly slid the blade back into its scabbard. Hitsugaya stared him down, blade still raised, and for a second Jellal worried that he had made a terrible mistake. Then Hitsugaya slung his sword over his back, and gave Jellal an appreciative nod.
"Go home, captain," said Jellal. "We've spent enough time trying to kill each other here."
"We'll be at each other's throats again soon enough," Hitsugaya agreed.
"It's a shame. I wish it wouldn't have to be this way, but neither of us have a choice."
"You surprise me, arrancar," said Hitsugaya.
"We're not all the same. Well- now's no time to talk about our differences or lack thereof. I'll see you soon enough, Captain Hitsugaya."
"And I you, I'm sure," said Hitsugaya. "Farewell for now, Jellal Fernandes."
With that, the captain turned around and rushed away. Jellal watched him go. He truly had not wished to kill him. It was lucky he had a good enough excuse to let him go.
"I… how?"
Zancrow was on his knees. Further back lay Ikkaku, badly burnt and unconscious. It was not the third seat who had done this to him. It was not the enthusiastic, overconfident Madarame Ikkaku who had reduced him to this state. He certainly would never have done something so devious. Weakly, he grasped at the vines wrapping around his arms. He'd lost control of his resurrección; drained of its power, it had gone away entirely.
"You're lucky," said the effeminate man standing over him. "It looks like your energy was rather a lot for my Ruri'iro Kujaku. I can't seem to finish you off without damaging my zanpakutou. Stay where you are, and I'll leave with Ikkaku. That's as good a deal as either of you will get."
"You said you were a fifth seat," snarled Zancrow frustratedly. He had beaten the third seat, just barely and with great effort, and this… junior officer dared waltz in and shit all over his triumph?
"Five is a most beautiful number," said the effeminate man dismissively, walking over to his wounded comrade, "but the most important thing to remember is… it's just a number."
"You son of a bitch…" Zancrow growled. He grit his teeth, watching with furious anger as the fifth seat bent down and lifted his beaten comrade.
"You big fool, you," said the fifth seat, hoisting him up over his shoulder. "What would you do without me?"
"Don't you fuckin' ignore me!" Zancrow snarled. "I'll fuckin' kill ya! I'll kill both of ya!"
"Shush," said the fifth seat dismissively. "You're lucky to stay alive. Come after me, and I will take the time to kill you."
The vines receded, but Zancrow barely had the strength left to stand. Damn him! Damn them both!
No less then twelve hours ago, the gate had been flooding soldiers in nonstop, fit for battle and ready to fight. Now it was overburdened with soldiers running back the other way. The process was painfully slow; Unohana had insisted, as soon as she returned, that the wounded be returned first. Yamamoto had not cared to argue, and only nodded his assent to the decision.
He looked around. There were men there who were clearly not long for this world, grievously injured and drawing their last breaths. He could hear their moans now. Some of them were crying out to their loved ones, lost in a delirium of pain. He felt it keenly. All their pain, all the maiming and death, it was his responsibility. He had ordered them here. He had told them where to go, and…
Now, the folly of an old man had led them to the brink of defeat, and for what?
Yamamoto's old hands clutched at his cane, hard. He showed no emotion outward, but inside he felt a great, almost overwhelming grief. He had failed them all. If these men had died for victory, he could at least justify it. But, Aizen… Aizen had not reacted like Yamamoto had expected. A man so self-aggrandizing and arrogant as to announce his treason to the whole world, where everyone was watching- surely he would face them head-on?
That had been Yamamoto's assumption. That Aizen, in his ego, would not refuse a challenge of this magnitude. That his pride would not allow it. That he would hit back hard at one of their attack routes, allowing them to refocus their efforts there.
But, Aizen had no pride. Not in the way a soldier would understand it, at least. Yamamoto understood that now. Aizen was a shrewd, cold, evil man who had seen this attack as an opportunity.
Yamamoto had known the risks. This was enemy territory. They would be going headfirst into the meat grinder. The risk had been high, and so had been the reward: to sever the head of the serpent and end the war early, seizing the initiative. But, he had underestimated his opponent. No- he had not even understood whom he was up against.
Komamura Sajin was dead. Zaraki Kenpachi, Abarai Renji, and Lisanna Strauss were receiving emergency care. Captain Scarlet was missing. One captain dead, four beaten, and all they had managed to do was kill a single traitor. Captain Scarlet… he remembered her protests now, with perfect clarity. The urgency in her voice, the almost desperate pleas to not play into Aizen's hands. She had still gone where ordered, and she may well have paid the ultimate price for it. He was surprised at the thought. She had shown that much loyalty, despite her grievances with the Gotei.
She had been right. This… this had been folly, from the start till the end.
"Hey, old man? Captain-commander?"
It was Kyouraku. The boy was sombre, and his seriousness felt off-putting.
"…Yes, what is it?" Yamamoto grumbled irritably.
"We need a plan," said Kyouraku eagerly. "The retreat is going as planned, but… after that, then what? Aizen won't give us time-"
"I know!" said Yamamoto brusquely.
"I know you know," said Kyouraku gently, "but we need a course of action, and we need it now."
"Yes. Yes, we do," said Yamamoto with a heavy sigh.
"Perhaps we should fall back with all able-bodied vice-captain and captain tier fighters to Karakura Town and make ready to defend it there, as planned? Reconvene with Urahara and his Shihoin ally, set up defensive perimeters, see if we can rush the defensive matrix…"
Yamamoto nodded. "Give the order," he said wearily.
"Don't do this to yourself, old man," said Kyouraku, staring out at the stream of wounded. "Nothing will get better because you torment yourself like this."
"It was by my command," said Yamamoto firmly. "I will see the fruits of my orders. I will not turn my back on it. This is my burden to bear, and I will not shirk away from it."
"Alright," said Kyouraku with a sigh. "I'll, uh, go give the order, then."
"Do it."
As Kyouraku walked away, Yamamoto fixed his eyes on the wounded. Right now, all they could do was pray that they could get them all out in time.
Ulquiorra walked into the meeting room. He had taken the time to change into a new set of clothes, as his battle had ruined them quite thoroughly. That blasted woman had kept him busy until his two targets had escaped, only to fall back, herself. He had followed her for some distance, but even he had been unable to keep up. He would have kept pursuing, except a messenger had intercepted him. Lord Aizen had called, and orders were orders.
In the middle of the room stood their lord. He looked invigorated by their success, a slight smile at the edge of his lips. It vexed Ulquiorra a little to realize he was the last of the inner circle to arrive; it seemed his need for propriety had kept his lord waiting. Jellal Fernandes was already there, looking rough but still in one piece, and much the same could be said for the other two. Halibel looked colder than usual, her eyes giving off a piercing stare from behind her collar. Neliel looked a little shaken beneath her composed exterior; Ulquiorra noticed it in the little ways, the tremor in her hand and the way she made a fist to stop it, the way her eyes darted back and forth across the room…
"Please forgive my tardiness," said Ulquiorra, bowing with one hand folded over his chest. "I was… less than presentable."
"I'm sure," said Aizen amusedly. "It is of no consequence. My children, you have all done well. I am proud of you. The Gotei came for us, walked right into a trap, and the way you all followed my vision has left them reeling, crippled. The initiative is ours. This war is ours to lose now." He turned to Halibel. "Report briefly. What happened?"
"Tousen died, lord," said Halibel firmly.
"The cameras confirmed as much. Your battle was less clear to me, though."
"I defeated Erza Scarlet in single combat. She was… more bothersome than expected. I took an arm off her and broke her bankai, but at the last second, her vice-captain used some sort of magic to teleport her out. I did manage to kill Komamura before that, though."
"A captain slain and a captain defeated," said Aizen, nodding sagely. "Well done, Halibel. Jellal?"
Jellal shrugged. "Squared off with Hitsugaya Toushirou. He was… he's real good, sir. I wasn't able to seal the deal. We agreed to drop it."
Aizen gave him a look. It was the smart call, Ulquiorra figured, to be honest. Lord Aizen would have known if he was lying. Fernandes was not skilled at deception.
"Very well," said Lord Aizen, apparently deciding not to dwell on it. "Neliel? I saw you were able to defeat Kenpachi. Can you confirm he is dead?"
"…He's alive, sir," Neliel whispered. "Unohana Retsu recovered him."
"Did she burst in on you before you could make the kill?"
"Sir, I…" Neliel said, pausing. A helpless expression passed her face. "When I defeated him, I ran for my fracciones. They were dying. I couldn't leave them, so…"
"So, you let Unohana Retsu walk out with a sure kill?" Aizen asked. He was composed, but Ulquiorra had learned to read his master. He was irritated. "You couldn't have taken a second to shear his head from his shoulders?"
"I'm sorry, Lord Aizen," Neliel said, turning her head down. The shame in her voice was apparent. There was weakness there, Ulquiorra reasoned. Her strength was similar to his own, but she lacked the killing instinct. Her years of being powerful had worn at her, made her soft. He had seen it happen before.
"I expected more of you," said Aizen firmly. "The champion of the Gotei, and you let him slide through your grasp."
"Lord Aizen," said Halibel firmly, "as you say, it was the champion of the Gotei. And, she defeated him handily. The day is ours, and we have all pulled through. If you recall, not even Ulquiorra was able to kill his targets."
Had Ulquiorra been the prideful sort, he might have remarked that he had been fighting two people at once, working with remarkable skill to complement one another. He might have remarked that they had received reinforcements at the last second. Instead, he said nothing, and thought of her reaction. Defensive. She was smoothing over an error committed by somebody else. Her loyalty to Neliel was not new to him, but it did demonstrate that her commitment to their cause was weaker than her commitment to her own priorities.
"Lord Aizen," said Ulquiorra, through with reflection, "shall we ready to strike at the shinigami as they retreat? There is an opportunity to eradicate them here and now."
"There is," said Aizen with a nod, "but with Yamamoto guarding them, it would be a high-risk venture. Their fatal flaw was spreading themselves thin. Our fatal flaw would be attacking where they have concentrated strength. No, my espada," said Aizen, an unmistakable and joyous eagerness in his voice, "we will not make the same kind of error they did. Let them run. They will be forced to come to Karakura, and there we will hit them with everything we have, as soon as all our forces are organized. The time is almost upon us. The Gotei has expended the last of its power in a foolish attack, and we have lost almost nothing of value. We will strike them as soon as we can, and they will die. Every last one of them will bend the knee or lose their head. I will finally have what I desire!"
Ulquiorra noticed Halibel raising an eyebrow. Neliel, for her part, looked even more concerned than before. Jellal looked a little put off. Ulquiorra would have scoffed if he had cared enough to do so. Not one of them understood. They saw a hint of what their lord looked like in the dark, more like one of their own than they cared to admit, and they questioned him?
They would have to be watched. They could not be relied upon to remain loyal, not absolutely. If they were lucky, they would die fighting. They would not like what would come next.
And thus, the invasion of Huecco Mundo end's in disaster for our heros. The war is far from one, but needless to say, the gotie suffered some serious losses. How will our heros bounce back from this? Well, you'll have to read more to find out. Please feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you think of our story thus far. Till next time!