Sorry that it took so long for us to get this chapter out to you all, life has been getting a bit crazy.
Though before we begin, I have some words from the writer Greatkingrat88.
AN: Alright guys, I figured I need to give you some heads up. This chapter will deal with Zommari v Soifon, and well, I've decided to give both of them new powerups. Now, I can hear you asking- why would you do that, when they both have established powers? Canonical ones?
Well, in the case of Zommari, it's simple. His canonical power is both silly and overpowered, and it made more sense to reimagine him as a martial arts type whose skill set was better adapted to a speedster matchup.
In the case of Soifon... well, I'll have to go a bit longer. To put it shortly, I've always found Soifon's bankai design to be... really stupid. It's about the only bankai I can think of that makes its user less effective when it's up. Thematically, it makes absolutely no sense for a speedster assassin to have a clunky, unwieldy one-shot bazooka. In no way does that power make sense for somebody whose primary ability is to poison somebody to death. Usually, shikai to bankai follows a logical progression. Senbonzakura has a few cherry blades, its bankai has loads of them. Komamura's shikai summons a part of the giant, and the bankai summons the whole giant, and so on. Jakuhou Raikoben... does not follow a logical progression. It felt like a ridiculous, really stupid writing choice that makes no sense for the character and is altogether really awkward and ineffective, so I've decided to rewrite it to something I felt fit Soifon better. That's all.
-Greatkingrat88
Well, I won't delay you any longer, on with the show!
Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo and Shounen jump. Fairy tail is owned by Hiro Mashima and weekly shounen
A vile mass of tentacles he was, the transformed Aaroniero. Towering and bulbous, there was a horrible symmetry to his resurreccion. Two large, toothed maws, one on either side of his rounded body. Large, long tentacles extending from his purple main body, each one thicker than a tree trunk. Boil-like protrusions in the middle of the head, if such an amorphous form could be said to have a head. Resting on top of it all, the torso of a shinigami, wielding a trident. A familiar figure. Lisanna had thought it her imagination at first, but there was no denying it. Somehow, the arrancar had stolen the visage and power of Shiba Kaien.
"You wretched creature," said Lisanna, her grip on the claws in her hands tightening, her tone bitterly angry. "What is this? How did you come upon this? How did you loot the corpse of a man like him?"
"I remember you," said Aaroniero triumphantly, "just like I remember everything else he knew. All of the times you spared while you worked under Isshin's thrall because you were so desperate to get stronger. I remember you never besting him, no matter your efforts. I know all he knew, little one, including every time he defeated you in the ring."
His voice sounded like Kaien's, the same resounding tone she had heard so many times whenever he came over to see Isshin during her time in squad 10- but now it sounded malicious, gleeful, cruel; everything Kaien was not. This monster wore his face, but this was not her old sparring partner, her old comrade in arms. This was a monster. Gritting her teeth, she stared it down.
"I've hunted a lot of hollows," said Lisanna, "and I thought I'd finally learned not to hate you. A monster cannot help being a monster, after all. But, looking at you now… I will kill you for this, and I will feel glad to have it done."
The corpse- or whatever this form was- raised his hand, pointing the trident at her. "We shall see. Strike her, Nejibana!"
A wave of water surged from the trident, crashing toward her like a tidal wave. It seemed to summon a small lake's worth of water instantly. This felt like a zanpakutou, alright.
Lisanna jumped off the ground, dashing up a wall. Another surge of water came at her, nearly leveling the building. Lisanna jumped off toward the next nearby building. The water followed her everywhere. The espada laughed, a disturbingly human laugh, as the water level around them rose.
"Is this your plan, then," cried Aaroniero, "to run until there is nowhere left to run?"
"No," said Lisanna, and suddenly she jumped into the air, lightning crackling from her claws as she made right for the localized tsunami of water. She didn't even have to aim. All she had to do was cloak herself in her own lightning and hit the water.
The effect was instantaneous. There was a loud zap and the water, which had been whirling around them spiritedly, started to calm. As Lisanna's head broke the surface, she soon found her footing as the magically summoned water drained away. It left her standing there, soaked but upright, facing a faintly smoking Aaroniero.
"Water against lightning?" she said dismissively. "Conductivity is a bitch; don't you know that? A shinigami might have found a way around it, but you just threw all that water at me, expecting it to be enough. You've stolen the powers of a shinigami, but you're using them like a blunt instrument, like a club. You don't know what you're doing, do you?"
Aaroniero's face tightened with anger.
"You arrogant…"
"Why don't I show you the true power of a shinigami?" Lisanna said coldly, holding the claws up toward the sky, letting her reiatsu surge with power.
"Bankai: Arashi-Raijin Kaminari Hebi!"
There was a radiant flash of light, and when Aaroniero looked up again, there was Lisanna looking down on him, straddling a serpent no shorter than fifty yards, thick and with a set of frighteningly pointed teeth. The colours of the rainbow ran down its back, seeming to shift every few seconds, and a pair of wings sprouted from beneath its head. Above them sat Lisanna in a saddle, no longer grasping a sword but a long rod. Blue lightning crackled from around it, from around the whole serpent.
"Summon your water," she said firmly. "Do it."
Aaroniero's revolting body seemed to shift back a little, as if uncertain.
"I thought so," said Lisanna. "Forward, my serpent!"
She kicked her heels into its side and the serpent surged forward with a frightening hiss. Aaroniero lashed out with his tentacles, but the serpent sailed in under them, quickly wrapping its whole body around the writhing mass of tentacles. The serpent's grasp tightened, and as much as the tentacled body tried to slither away, to break free, to bash wildly at the predator constricting it, its efforts were in vain.
"Aaroniero Arruruerie," said Lisanna coldly as the serpent's head lowered and coiled to put her almost level- almost- with the espada's torso, "I have killed a lot of hollows in my time, but none as revolting as you. Do you have any last words?"
"You arrogant bitch," cried Aaroniero, lashing out with the trident, falling just short as the serpent's head bobbed back. "You think it will be done so easily? It's not over-"
"Burn," said Lisanna, and a surge of power coursed through the whole of her bankai. A great glow of blue overpowered the radiant colours of the serpent's back as electricity started to arc through it. Lisanna's eyes glowed with radiant blue energy as the first lightning bolt struck from the rod in her hand, electrocuting the shinigami torso that the espada had dared to cannibalize for his own use. A moment later, the whole serpent followed suit, and millions of volts of electric power coursed through Aaroniero's form. The espada screamed and twitched, his impotent efforts to break free totally halted as his tentacles writhed and spasmed with pain. Lisanna let out a furious cry, maintaining the surge of power, electrocuting the espada thoroughly. The revolting, tentacled body convulsed and shook, its slimy skin crackling and burning. There was smoke coming from the whole body, and parts of it started to fall off, cooked to a crisp. Aaroniero screamed, helpless to resist. There was no respite, and only when Lisanna felt her reserves starting to drain did she pause. A smoking, partly burning heap of tentacles collapsed to the ground, still twitching. The horrible stench of burning flesh filled the air, and acrid smoke completed the hellish picture. But, Lisanna felt no remorse or regret as she jumped off the serpent's back, landing on her feet and dismissing the bankai. Aaroniero's released form began to crumple up and collapse in on itself, until only the broken form of tentacles with the two skulls remained.
"No. No. No," one of the skulls squealed, its pretense of humanity gone entirely. "It wasn't supposed to go like this. It wasn't-"
Lisanna raised a hand, and incanted, "Hadou thirty-three: Soukatsui."
As blue fire consumed the screaming little skull, she took a step forward to find its twin. The second skull stared at her without eyes, seeming defiant before its doom. Without pausing, Lisanna brought her foot down on it, cracking it and grinding it to bits under her sole. Finally, when she was assured the hollow was truly dead, she sealed her blade and spat on the ground.
"Rest in peace," she muttered, more to the memory of Kaien than to the monster she had slain.
"Second dance: Hakuren!"
A great sheet of cold flowed out from around Rukia, in the direction she had pointed her blade. Zancrow was buried in an avalanche of deathly cold ice, totally enveloped. In his transformed state, he was not very fast, and she was taking full advantage of it.
Unfortunately, although not very fast, he was very, very hot. The ice held for a few seconds before cracking, great chunks of it falling onto the street. A second later the ice burst open in all directions and a blinding cloud of steam spread to cover the whole block. Rukia took a few steps back, the steam soaking her down to her undershirt. Even through the mist, it was impossible to miss her opponent, towering over her in the watery haze. He burned intensely, a giant of black and intense, fiery red. He was a rough shape of rock, barely containing an intense fire.
"You're funny," he rumbled through the cloud, slowly dissipating before the sheer might of his reiatsu. "Ice, ice, ice… how many times have you tried the same thing, woman? My infierno cannot be stopped by your cold."
"You haven't got me yet," Rukia said defiantly.
Zancrow lunged at her, guided by the sound of her voice, but Rukia was already on the move, and his hand grabbed at empty air. Snarling, he charged forward in pursuit as Rukia dashed down the street, trying to find a better position. Charging energy into his fist, Zancrow ran after her in great strides and leaped, trying to catch her with his hand extended. Rukia nimbly jumped to the side, but realized too late it was a feint, that he hadn't meant to catch her at all. As he fell to the ground, his fist slammed into the street with a thunderous clap. A blistering shockwave of heat slammed outward, hitting Rukia almost like a bomb. The street rocked as if struck by an earthquake. Superheated rubble sprayed all over. Rukia was thrown like a ragdoll until her fall was broken harshly by a brick wall. She could feel her back and thighs burning with hot gravel, and the skin on her right side felt like it was cooking. Coughing, breathing raggedly and trying to focus, she tried to stand. Her head was ringing and the world was spinning a little. It was only by instinct that she jumped over the next strike, breaking into a run again.
Behind her, Zancrow bellowed in anger, and Rukia felt the heat as a stream of fire shot out from an extended palm. Rukia jumped, and mid-air she cried, "Bakudo eighty-one: Danku!"
The shield manifested instantly, and Rukia felt intensely grateful for its wide berth when the fire crashed into it, spraying to the sides as she sprinted to relative safety.
"What the fuck?" said Zancrow, sounding more confused than angry.
"I figured your abilities were a little strange in the way they worked," said Rukia boldly, assuming a stance, "and I guess my hypothesis was correct. Your fire works more like kidou than conventional power."
"So?" said Zancrow. "I'll still burn you to a crisp."
"Second dance," said Rukia, planting her blade into the ground four times, "Hakuren!"
Just like before, the sheet of ice enveloped the arrancar, but not for long. Soon, just like before, the ice cracked and splintered, enveloping the whole area with steam as it vaporized. Zancrow laughed, great gouts of fire streaming wildly into the air as he bellowed in triumph.
Good.
Rukia wasn't desperately doing the same thing over and over. The steam, for one, continuously gave her good cover, protecting her from the slow-moving fire giant's counter-attacks. Secondly, she had guessed right- his fire was losing power, very slightly. Just breaking loose through raw power was wearing at him, lowering his body temperature. Seeing as her guess had been correct, if she could use kidou to keep blocking his attacks, then she could perhaps wear him down. Direct attack was, after all, not an option. The sheer heat alone was overwhelming, and a hit or two would finish her. She did not have the stamina of a captain.
This was the only way, a long and deadly dance hinging on her enemy's overconfidence. She shivered a little, despite the warm mist around her. If she lived, it would be quite a tale.
The substitute narrowly dodged away from a sword swipe from the white-skinned espada. Byakuya followed up on the opening immediately, striking from the side and nearly taking off one of Ulquiorra's fingers. The espada's reactions were slowed by the dome of blades, and with both of them working in perfect tandem, he was hard pressed to keep up. Byakuya lashed out with a quick Byakurai, the simple lightning spell striking the espada in the face. It didn't do more than singe him, but it made him reel back. Ulquiorra skipped back a few paces, only for Ichigo to assault him again, neither of the duo giving the espada a moment's respite.
Byakuya felt cautiously optimistic at the notion. Although neither side had played every ace they had, they were controlling the pace of the battle. So far, he and the substitute had proven quite the team, both sides learning to improve on the way they supported each other, played off each other. That was in itself fascinating, in a way. Byakuya had spent so much time perfecting his craft as a singular warrior that the idea of improving as a member of a team had never occurred to him. There was so much strength here, so much power, so much to explore.
Then he sensed it, in the distance. Rukia's reiatsu, fluctuating wildly. Somewhere not far away, she was fighting for her life. Instantly, he fought the instinct to run to her side. He had a duty to keep her alive. He also had a duty to fight here and now, with the enemy before them. The very deadly, very powerful enemy that had bested them twice already.
This was no way to conduct oneself in battle. It was no way to go through life. He had made his oath, and no oath he made he would ever voluntarily break, but if it continued to be a liability… then he would ultimately disgrace himself, again.
He sensed another pulse, and identified it as Rukia's shikai, her ice-based power going off. Determinedly, Byakuya guided the cherry blades to strike again, but this time Ulquiorra slipped away from his attack with ease. Byakuya's eyebrows narrowed, his choler rising. He could not let himself be distracted this way.
Rukia was her own warrior. She was strong and capable, and had already proven her worth. Right now, she fought on this battlefield, for her life. She might die.
So might he. So might thousands of others, each one doing their best just to live.
No one of them was more precious than the others. Not Byakuya, not Rukia, not any of their subordinates. They were all servants of the Gotei- soldiers, and soldiers… soldiers did their duty. They followed orders. Byakuya had his. There was no choice in this. As much as he'd rather see to her safety, he couldn't. He wouldn't. He had no choice but to trust her to fend for herself. He would not let down the Gotei a second time. If she died…
He would not think of such a thing. There was the here and the now, and anything else could wait till later.
"Hey, you alright?" called Ichigo, momentarily backing off from his attack. "Something wrong?"
"No," said Byakuya dismissively. "Focus on our battle instead of asking foolish questions."
"Sheesh, charming as usual," Ichigo muttered. "One-two punch like before?"
"Our strategy as discussed," Byakuya agreed. Ichigo charged again, his blade clashing with Ulquiorra's again, and Byakuya focused entirely on channelling his shikai. There was here, and there was now. Rukia… was another concern for another time.
Be safe out there.
Soifon weaved back and forth, dodging, blocking, and parrying in a seemingly endless exchange of kicks and punches. Right now, she was deeply grateful for having practiced with the best, for having kept her skills sharp, because Zommari Leroux was as sharp as a razor and fast as lightning. She caught a punch in the palm of her hand and redirected the blow, hoping to pull him off balance, but the espada was much too well controlled in his movements to let that happen. When her knee came up, aiming to catch his face for a stunning blow, he leaned back, evaded the blow, and Soifon only narrowly bent under the roundhouse kick that followed it. She somersaulted back three times, landing on her feet just in time to block an axe kick, crossing her arms to catch it. Her shoulders ached from the impact, but she held firm.
Slowly, gently, Zommari pulled back his leg and skipped back a couple paces, seeming to examine her carefully. Soifon took a moment to breathe, grateful for the reprieve. They had fought to a standstill so far, neither of them yet pulling out all the stops. She had to acknowledge his skills- despite his lack of formal training, he seemed to have taught himself enough to have an answer for anything she had to throw at him… yet. His style seemed to be focused more on kicks than on powerful arm strikes, giving him a considerable advantage in terms of range and power.
"Impressive," said Zommari, after a moment's worth of silence. "I've never met anyone who matched me hand-to-hand before."
Soifon snorted. "Then you're lucky you didn't meet Yoruichi. I am but a student compared to the likes of her."
"You say that," said Zommari, brows furrowed, "but I doubt there is anyone in the world but she who surpasses you in that respect. Truly, I respect this kind of strength. You will make a worthy prize when I kill you."
"Then you will have to work harder," said Soifon, a malicious smile passing her features.
A moment's confusion carried across Zommari's face. Then he looked down. Across his chest, just to the left of his heart, the hornet's mark took shape.
"Wait… when?" he said, shaking his head. As if retracing his steps, he muttered to himself.
"Ah. I left an opening just now, didn't I? I leaned a little too far forward with my last punch, forgetting the reach of your stinger. Careless."
"If you know my stinger, then you know that I'm one hit away from winning this battle," said Soifon. She let her reiatsu rise, and prepared the technique.
"Bankai already?" said Zommari, cocking his head. "Are you not playing your hand a little early with such escalation?"
"That's what you think," said Soifon, flexing her shoulder muscles. She slid her captain's coat off, and a great wind started to blow around her as she forced her energy into the familiar pattern of her technique. Once flawed, her training with Yoruichi had perfected it.
"Mukyuu Shunkou," she said, feeling great ripples of energy swirl around her arms and shoulders, kicking up dust around her. She charged, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, throwing a punch at Zommari. Not one to be caught off guard so easily, he caught her fist in his massive hand, but Soifon had counted on it. The pressurized kidou energy exploded in his palm, and the espada's eyes widened as bones broke in his hand, the sheer impact of the strike sending him staggering back. Soifon followed up with a roundhouse kick, and Zommari just barely twisted out of a direct hit. Her foot still glanced his shoulder, and he spun through the air. Zommari half landed and half fell, and by the time he got to his feet Soifon was coming at him again, mercilessly hammering down on him with the raw power of her Shunkou.
The octavo still managed to keep up, despite the shock of her attack. Realizing the tables had turned, he quickly went on the defensive, focusing on evading Soifon's rapid strikes. Soifon pushed her advantage, pushing the espada to his limits. One of his hands was out of commission already, and the hit to his shoulder had hurt. All she needed to do was keep pressing until he slipped up.
She lunged forward with a rapid set of punches. Zommari yielded ground step by step as he evaded each one. He launched a powerful sweeping kick to give himself some breathing room, but Soifon raised a hand, and his limb came to a stop inches away from even connecting, grinding against the rapid whirl of air currents surrounding her.
"Pure kidou energy, pressurized and channelled around my arms," Soifon said, confident in her advantage, "perfect for both offense and defense. Complex, but simple in its application. I was just waiting for the right time to use it."
"Fascinating," said Zommari, taking another couple steps back. Despite his disadvantage, he sounded entirely calm, his breathing regular and smooth. Remarkable self-control, Soifon thought with grudging respect. "The shinigami arts are something else. Perhaps I will not kill you after all. I think I would rather try and learn this technique."
"A hollow learning kidou? That really would be remarkable," Soifon snorted. Her eyes narrowed, she considered her position. The espada seemed quite calm, and he had not yet unleashed his full power. Whatever he had in store would be quite something- or he just had a good poker face.
She had no intention of finding out which one it was. A single hit was all she needed. Soifon charged, but Zommari sped out of the way, dashing to the side and drawing his blade. Cursing, Soifon adjusted her course. The winds whirling around her were throwing her off, very slightly; maintaining the technique was a drain on her focus. Like any weapon, its advantages came at the cost of disadvantages elsewhere.
"Warp, Esfera de Oscuridad," Zommari called. His power rose, but very rapidly, much more quickly than any resurreccion Soifon had seen- and then, he was gone. Not moved away elsewhere at a hyper-rapid pace, but gone. There was no trace of his spirit energy whatsoever. Soifon assumed a stance, desperately scanning the area for her opponent. She could sense many signatures here, some quite close, the signatures of enemies and allies clashing, the flaring energies of Yoruichi and Nnoitra, but Zommari seemed to have stopped existing.
He couldn't have gone away. He wouldn't have run. He had released his blade, and… turned invisible? That meant she couldn't stand around. She couldn't afford to make herself an easy target. She dashed down the street, her eyes scanning the area still, when suddenly she was hit. A kick landed, knocking the air out of her lungs and sending her bouncing down the street. Gasping for air, Soifon used the momentum to roll onto her feet, assuming a stance.
"As I thought."
There was Zommari Leroux again, and Soifon's eyes widened. She could feel him again; his entire being had seemingly come back into existence. No- she had felt it briefly, just when she had been hit. Furiously, she glared at the arrancar. He had changed, but it was unlike any transformation she had ever seen. Most of his body had turned black. Not brown, like the colour of his skin- pitch black, so black it hurt to look at it. The area around him seemed darker, as if the blackness of his body consumed the light around it. His face was intact, the darkness easing up around his jawline and face, but other than a set of bony little ridges of plain white running down from the base of his skull, down over his arms, legs and chest, he was like a living shadow.
"Your technique is powerful, but it requires focus to activate," he continued. His voice sounded distant, as if he called out to her from across a great chasm. "It could not shield you from an attack you did not see coming. It is not flawless. Then again… who could ever have expected to be struck by a power such as this?"
"You bastard, where did you go?" Soifon hissed. "I couldn't…"
"Trace me?" said Zommari calmly. "Nobody can. When I step into the sphere of darkness, I cease to exist. This is not merely fast movement, head assassin. My resurreccion enabled me to be where I desire to be, instantaneously."
Soifon lunged at him, stinger pointed. She was fast, very fast, and she was but a moment away from finding her mark… but that moment was all Zommari needed to fade away, turning into shadow. There she was again, alone and cornered, only waiting for the espada to strike. Forcing her breathing to calm, Soifon dismissed her Mukyuu Shunkou. It would make no sense to focus on something useless to her now.
She took a stance instead, glancing around. Not invisible; gone from reality. That would be any assassin's wet dream. Hand-to-hand she would not be overpowered, but how could she parry an attack she couldn't see coming?
Think. Think. It was a reiatsu-based ability, like any other. Although she was no expert on spirit particle physics, she was sure such a power would have to be very draining to use. The problem was that all he needed were a few good hits. As durable as a shinigami was, Soifon had killed enough people to know that enough force delivered in the right place could end a fight quickly- and for a captain, she was not the most durable.
Taking a deep breath, she dashed back and forth across the street in irregular patterns, moving as quickly as she could. It was tiring, and she hated moving this quickly with nowhere to really go, but what else was there to do?
It didn't take long. Soifon stopped very briefly- so briefly that it could only have been called a 'stop' by anyone as fast as she- and it was all that was needed. A powerful kick caught her in the midsection, rocking her entire body and sending her flying. Soifon only barely managed to roll onto her feet, the world spinning around her. She breathed heavily, staring down Zommari. The octavo had emerged again, staring her down with quiet confidence.
"You're looking a bit shaken," he said. He stood some ten yards away, more than enough that she couldn't catch him easily.
"A little," Soifon admitted, her voice coming out as a wheeze now, "but I'm making progress."
"Progress?"
"I figured out a thing or two," she said, clutching her side. At least one rib was broken now; she was sure of it. Probably more. "Like the sheer amount of power it takes to use that thing even once. I can tell from your reiatsu. It's weaker than before, isn't it?"
Zommari had quite a poker face, but the way his brows furrowed subtly told Soifon enough.
"Or," she continued, "how it takes time to recharge. You can't slip right into it immediately after using it, can you? That's why you're here, talking to me: because it takes a while. And, you hit me when I slowed down, meaning you can't track me when I move at a certain speed. Whatever means of tracing me that you use is limited when you're in that sphere of yours. I'd venture a guess you can't actually see me when you're in there, but that's just speculation."
"I see your skills go beyond the martial," said Zommari neutrally.
"We're police, too," said Soifon. "Investigators. Interrogators. But, more importantly, I know what I need to do now."
"Bankai?" Zommari shook his head. "I am not so invested in this fight that I would allow you the time to do that. How many more hits can you take, captain? How quickly can you unleash that power? It might only take seconds, but a second might as well be an eternity from where you're standing."
Soifon shot him a glare. She pulled a couple of throwing knives from her belt and launched them at the espada, who slipped back into nothingness. The knives clattered harmlessly against a lamppost.
Soifon smiled to herself. These arrancar were powerful, but much too talkative for their own good. Just you wait, she thought. I have a trick or two of my own.
She raised a hand, letting her reiatsu rise.
"Ban…!" she started, and the next second she was gone, reappearing at the other end of the street. From behind where she had stood a second ago Zommari came in with a sweeping kick, missing completely. His eyes narrowed in anger, realizing he had been tricked.
"Clever," he said, "but I do not need the sphere to stop you."
"That's what you think," Soifon said, and she moved. She ran, quickly, but this time it was different. Her silhouette blurred, leaving an after-image, then a second, then a third. Four of her appeared to be running around the street at one time, moving erratically. Zommari charged, his fist passing right through an image. In turn, he received a kick to the head from the real Soifon, sending him flying.
"Never show your whole hand at once," Soifon panted, holding up her hand as her energy began to spike. "Bankai: Sen no Suzumebachi!"
There was a glimmering blue light next to Soifon, then another, then another, rapidly manifesting until a thousand glimmering orbs surrounded her. The glow subsided, and each light took shape. They were hornets, a thousand light-blue ethereal hornets, each half a foot long, hovering around Soifon. Four wings sprouted from her back, giving off a metallic sheen. Each one was yellow and black, divided in two long lines each. A golden mask with black lines covered her face, giving her a predatory appearance.
She pointed her hand at Zommari, the stinger aimed at him, and smiled wearily.
"Contact established," she said, and Zommari could feel the mark on his chest throb slightly. "Target locked. Your fate has been sealed, Zommari Leroux."
She lunged forward, the hornets swarming with her as she flew toward her target, her wings carrying her forward with ease. Zommari dashed away, quick as his legs could carry him, putting a good amount of distance between them. Soifon pursued, but Zommari seemed difficult to catch, always away from her reach.
"If this is the power of bankai," said Zommari, still keeping his distance, "then I am less than impressed. You are slower than before, head assassin. Your wings are impressively stylish, but they do not carry you nearly as quickly as your legs."
"You don't understand," said Soifon, shaking her head. "Once these hornets are locked on their target, they will never stop chasing it. This is the end of the line for you. You cannot escape."
"Can't I?" said Zommari with a smile- and just like that, he was gone once more.
Zommari looked at the real world through the blurred haze of his esfero. The captain had been wrong before; he could see… but interpreting what he saw was always difficult, like looking through a fog of smoke. Moving about carefully, he found a spot. The captain was moving slowly now, fluttering around in the air from one place to the next. She would expect an attack, but she would not see it. No more playing around. One strike to the back of her neck would knock her out, and then the battle would be over, bankai or no bankai.
Zommari lunged into the air, finding just the right moment to strike, holding up his arm and hand in a stiff, straight position for a chop. One strike. That was all it would take.
He struck. But, at the last second, just when he was sure he had managed it, she spun around and crossed her arms, catching the blow. She was sent reeling, only correcting her flight after she had fallen several yards, but she had blocked his strike. How?
"I told you," said Soifon, "once they have their mark, they will know where you are. They might not be able to track you while you're gone, but… the moment you return, they will find you."
Zommari's eyes widened. The hornets! They had turned toward him the moment he emerged, instantly. The captain had to have read that movement and turned around at the last second to block.
"And, what's more," said Soifon, "you're about to find out what else they can do. Look at your arm, espada."
Zommari looked at the arm he had struck Soifon with, his eyes widening further. One of the ethereal hornets had attached itself to him, and he felt a brief pain as it sunk its stinger into him. Then, the insect dissolved, its spirit energy dissipating as it turned into nothing.
"I hid one in my hand," said Soifon, "and it crawled over just as you attacked."
"One sting?" said Zommari. "What poison does it deliver that would kill me at once?"
"It doesn't do that," said Soifon, shaking her head. "My shikai deals death in two strikes. My bankai, by comparison, deals out death by a thousand cuts."
Zommari cocked his head, and carefully moved his arm back and forth. He felt nothing when he flexed its muscles. There wasn't even a wound where the insect had stung him.
"It doesn't seem to be very effective," he said.
"Let's see what you think about the next nine hundred and ninety-nine doses, then," said Soifon. She leaped forward, the swarm following around her in a wide attack pattern. Zommari blocked her first strike, but was quickly forced to flee as the hornets closed in. An expert step of sonido took him to safety from the attacking bugs, but not from Soifon, who pursued him relentlessly. As Zommari dodged, parried, and evaded, he studied the ethereal hornets.
They lagged behind. They would never have been called slow by any lesser being; in fact, it would probably only take them seconds to catch up. They were slow only compared to warriors like him and his opponent, compared to those who had mastered near-instant movement. Given this, the little captain's aggression was a little strange. If she fought more carefully, she would be invulnerable to attack. Who would ever let themselves be stung directly?
Then again, maybe it wasn't so strange. She would never catch him otherwise, and this way, she always pushed him back. He could never stay in one place, because sooner or later they would catch up. Just the threat of these creatures allowed her to set the pace. It was truly a lethal ability for an assassin to have. To think, he had been assured of his victory only minutes ago…
She was tired, though. She did not hit as quickly as she had done before. The strikes he had landed had wounded her, and she was slowed down by them. Pain and injury were working against her. Zommari thought back to the instance he had struck last. Could he do it again? It took the hornets only the blink of an eye to lock onto him, but he could do a lot in that blink of an eye. How many more hits could she take? She was frail, for a shinigami. One more might be all he needed. What other recourse did he have? She had played her final card, just as he had done. Now all that was left was to gamble that his power could trump hers.
Suddenly, Soifon's fist struck air as Zommari disappeared once more.
The captain did not start dashing this time. Carried by her wings, she hovered in the air just over the street surface, the hornets rotating around her in a repetitive pattern. Zommari moved around, kneeling just by the edge of her protective circle. Ironic- just as when he hid in his sphere, she created one of her own to counter. Zommari focused, forcing clarity to this strange world he had created. The hornets… they moved in a wide pattern, but it was predictable. It did not form a perfect sphere, after all. They moved two feet apart, in three layers, meaning the captain was almost completely surrounded.
Almost. There were a few blind spots, where the gaps were wider. Not by a lot, but large enough that he could slide through them before they could lock on to him. In his mind's eye, it played out. In through one opening, low in the ground. A heavy kick, delivered right to her side, sending her reeling. Then, he'd use that for momentum to get out through another opening, just before they could start their chase. It ached to do it, but Zommari waited. Maintaining his esfero was draining, and he had already used it more times than he ever had done at once since Lord Aizen had transformed him. It was like holding his breath for too long, knowing the surface was out of reach. This would eat up most of his reserves, just waiting for the right opening. But, if it gave him victory, then that wouldn't matter. Just wait, wait, wait until the exact right pattern revealed itself, and stake all of it on that. It was a bold and dangerous plan, but Zommari was well acquainted with taking great risks for great rewards. Nobody gained power who did not take such risks.
Calm and disciplined, he studied the patterns, waited, waited, waited until he felt like he was burning, his reiatsu draining to dangerous lows. There it was. The flaw, right in front of him, and further up, his way out. One instant, and it would be over, one way or the other. Zommari dashed.
The hit struck Soifon right in the stomach, coming in so quickly that although she could see her hornets reacting, she had no time to block it. She was thrown far, feeling her ribs cracking. She slammed into a brick wall, falling onto the ground coughing for air. Forcing her body to calm, controlling her breathing, she stood up. The world was still spinning when she raised her head, spitting out a tooth. Despite it all, her lips curled into a victorious smile.
Zommari had gotten a good distance away, and for a second, he had thought he had really done it. In and out, for just one final, victorious blow. Then he had noticed a dozen huge hornets latched to his arms, legs, and torso. He had tried to bat them away, but to no avail. His hands passed right through them as they positioned their stingers, each one delivering another dose of venom.
Now he felt it. A burning sensation in his veins, like a rash inside his body. He blinked; the world seemed hazier, his mind heavier.
"I was wondering," rasped a beaten-up Soifon, limping down the street toward Zommari, "if I made that gap too obvious."
"You… let yourself be hit?" Zommari said, eyes widening in surprise. "In that state?"
"I had to take the chance," said Soifon with a shrug. "I knew you couldn't stay there forever. You had to make a move eventually, and… well, you can't outrun them. Not this close. Like you just found out."
She stumbled forward, clutching her side. Zommari realized, to his horror, that the hornet swarm were surrounding him.
"Go ahead," she said. "Try to run."
So Zommari did. He dashed to the side, where the swarm were thinnest. He could still make it out. He might take a few stings, but-
Why was he moving so slowly?
He was struck in the back, seven times, each hit striking just after the other. Zommari collapsed onto the ground, the burning in his body having grown from the sensation of a rash to the scathing pain of being scalded by boiling water. He retched, coughing, gagging, standing on all fours, and when he pulled himself together…
When he looked up, there she stood over him, hand pointed at him.
"Back attacks," she said acerbically. "You like those, don't you?"
"Why…" Zommari said, his voice sounding distant as he spoke. It was like his tongue was growing thicker, like his mind was drifting away. "Why… so slow…?"
"An effect of the poison," said Soifon, standing right over him. "It can do many things. Right now, it just slows you down. Right now, you're feeling the pain of its sting, and as somebody who has gone through that… trust me, I'll be doing you a favour this way."
She grabbed him by the neck with one hand, and held up her stinger with the other. Vaguely aware that this was very, very bad, Zommari tried to wriggle out of her grip, but his arms did not obey him, flailing wildly and ineffectively. Soifon, without flinching, slid the stinger into the wound she had given him earlier. The death mark duplicated, forming an eight-pointed stylized flower, and Zommari went wide-eyed. He collapsed to the ground, quite dead, and Soifon took a step back. She nearly overbalanced, and as she dismissed the bankai she realized just how exhausted she was. She hadn't had to use her bankai for years now. It was her fault for not going all out earlier. Stupid. Prideful. She had really thought she might defeat him without it.
She shook her head, raising her hand to look at the stinger. I still have much left to learn, don't I?
Jellal was the better swordsman; of that, there was no doubt. Grimmjow seemed to use his blade more like a basic tool for slashing or stabbing; his form was middling at best. But, his movements were nearly perfect regardless, lightning-fast and calculated, adapting to every clash the two of them had in an instant. What he lacked in form, he made up in pure, undiluted skill with his body.
"I'd never have guessed you'd spent months as a shinigami's captive," Jellal said curtly as they broke apart for a moment. Whereas he kept his guard up, Grimmjow held his blade in a relaxed pose- deceptively relaxed, Jellal knew. "How did you even get that arm back? Last time we spoke, you were a shadow of your former self."
"Fucked if I know how it works," Grimmjow said, shrugging with a grin on his face. "Some weird shinigami magic or some shit. One moment you're opening up to some dumbass human girl about how maybe you coulda made better life choices, and the next, you got your arm back."
"You're full of it."
"Hey, what can I say?" Grimmjow said with a chuckle. "It's karma for turning over a new leaf. I'm one of the good guys now, don'tcha know?"
Jellal made a face, and lunged forward with a set of slashes. Grimmjow took a couple steps back to match Jellal's movements, parrying the strikes before suddenly thrusting forward with the hilt of his blade, catching Jellal in the gut. The air knocked out of him, Jellal staggered back. Before he could recover, Grimmjow had backhanded him, sending him reeling back. Not even bothering to use his blade, Grimmjow followed up with a punch to Jellal's solar plexus, and the septimo felt a nexus of pain spreading through his body. Knocked over, he flailed around wildly with his blade, but Grimmjow avoided the attacks with ease, kicking Jellal in the midsection. Grimmjow laughed, lashing out with one kick after another, sending Jellal flying back a foot or so with each impact. Finally, Jellal lashed out with a set of bala, throwing them in Grimmjow's general direction. The former espada stepped back a few paces, although Jellal doubted he'd needed to.
"Slapping you around is fun and all," said Grimmjow, cockily resting his sword against his shoulder, "but it's honestly kinda pathetic, too."
Jellal coughed, resisting the urge to retch as he pulled himself together, standing up.
"I don't need any charity from the likes of you," he sneered, raising his weapon. "Why did you hold yourself back?"
"Charity?" Grimmjow said. He threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's what it had to be, since I'm one of the good guys now, beatin' down one of the big bad enemies of all what's good and right. But, maybe," he said, his eyes narrowing, "I'm getting a bit fed up smacking around someone with only half a heart in the fight. Come on, Jellal. Get serious already. Think of all the people I've killed. Think of all the shit I've done and pull yourself together."
Jellal's face tightened into a furious scowl. "What the hell is up with you?"
"Your resurreccion, dumbass," said Grimmjow, in a lazy drawl. "I don't wanna kill ya like this. Let's fight it out like hollows. You sure as shit ain't beating me any other way."
Jellal stared him down. He was being baited, he knew it, but he had no other choice. Grimmjow was the more experienced fighter, and there was no reason to hold back.
"For Lord Aizen," he hissed, grasping his blade tight, "for my friends, and for tomorrow."
"Yada yada, whatever you need to tell yourself."
"Twist," said Jellal as his spirit energy began to rise, "Serpiente!"
Jellal's flesh moulded like loose clay as the transformation ensued, and he came out leaned on his long, bladed forelimbs, his tail stretching out behind him. Grimmjow whistled.
"Not too shabby," he said with a smirk. "Now, what say you and me go paint the town red?"
Grimmjow spread his legs wide, aiming his sword backward, dragging the fingers of his free hand across its edge. A mad grin spread across his face. Even at the peak of his power, Jellal found the image intimidating.
"Grind," cried Grimmjow, "Pantera!"
Just like Jellal he changed and warped, but the difference between them couldn't have been clearer. Grimmjow's form was lean and lithe; balancing on limber, clawed legs, he was covered in white, bony plate, with a great mane of blue hair extending from the back of his skull. Flexing his clawed hands, the former septimo gave Jellal a look.
"Come on, then," said Jellal defiantly, standing on his hind legs as his two bladed limbs began to spin in deadly concert with one another, ready to cut through anything foolish enough to come close.
"That's the spirit," said Grimmjow. Then he lunged with the ferocity and speed of a wild animal.
He was fast, but even so, the cat-like beast dared not charge right into the range of Jellal's spinning blades. Instead he went up and over, but Jellal had already anticipated the move, lashing out with his tail. Grimmjow evaded the swipe with ease, but it bought Jellal time to spin around and lash out, the range of his spinning blade-arms easily outranging the short reach of Grimmjow's claws. Grimmjow weaved and dodged, bending under a spinning swipe and skipping out of range of the next. Feeling heartened, Jellal pressed the attack, lashing out with one arm after the other, never leaving himself open. Grimmjow sneered at him, cursing incoherently as he kept on the defense. Then he was gone. Jellal recognized a high-level use of sonido when he saw it and spread his guard wide, knowing the attack would come any moment, could come from any direction.
If he were Grimmjow, where would he attack? Wherever the opponent was weak, of course. Jellal's back was fairly well protected under the bony scales, and his front was an unassailable mass of whirling death. That left-
Instinctively Jellal leaped over a sweeping kick aimed at his ankle. The former espada, having missed, kept his momentum going and slid in under Jellal, aiming a hand up. Before Jellal could land, the bright red of a cero struck him in the chest, throwing him off balance. His eyes closing against the blinding light, he was knocked back, and he could feel one of his blade-arms coming to a halt as it raked against the asphalt of the street, sending rubble spraying across the side of the building next to them. Jellal's armour had absorbed the hit just fine, but that was not the issue- a cero of that calibre was not meant to kill, and Grimmjow wouldn't have expected it to. He would not have wanted it to.
Reeling back, bright lights flaring in front of his eye from the cero, Jellal tried desperately to regain his balance, to get both his blades working. Through the haze, through his near-blinded eyes, he saw a streak of blue and white coming toward him. Cursing, Jellal raised his still spinning arm, trying to bring the other one up as well, but Grimmjow weaved to the side and slid inside Jellal's guard, raking a clawed hand across his chest plate. Great chunks of bone were torn and splintered, and Jellal knew he had to stop this now, before the panther could start doing damage he could not recover from.
He stopped the spin of both his arms, and extended both hands as if to catch Grimmjow in a hug, the bladed edge of his blades ready to come down. Grimmjow, a claw already reaching for Jellal's throat, nimbly somersaulted back as the blades came in, clattering harmlessly against the septimo's armoured plating. Slowly, Jellal positioned his blades up again, letting them start to spin.
"So, you're not a one trick pony after all, huh?" Grimmjow said, his grin revealing a set of pointed teeth.
"More than you know, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," Jellal said defiantly.
"That so?" said Grimmjow, and only now Jellal noticed a tail impatiently bobbing around from Grimmjow's back, in contrast to the former espada's relaxed posture. "Let's test that."
Grimmjow dashed all around Jellal, becoming a blur of speed. Keeping his guard up, Jellal tried to analyze his former ally's movements. He'd never match him in speed, so he'd have to try and predict where he would strike, and counter-attack. There was the faintest warning as Grimmjow broke his mad dash and surged forward, and Jellal jumped to the side just in time, his reflexes just barely saving him from a strike to his ankle. He lashed out with one of his spinning blades, but Grimmjow evaded the attack gracefully. The next second he came in from behind, but Jellal twisted out of the way with surprising agility, lashing out with a foot. Jellal's sandal caught the espada in the chest, and although he could feel the impact all the way up to his hip, Grimmjow was thrown off balance. Knowing he would have no better opening, Jellal charged, and a golden glow started to cloak him.
It wasn't entirely true, what he'd been thinking. He wouldn't normally match Grimmjow in speed.
"Meteor," he hissed under his breath, and throughout his body, there was a burst of spirit energy channelling into his veins. There was a brief surge of pain, and suddenly it was as if the world moved more slowly. The technique was a replication of something he had once known, stimulating his nervous system and supercharging his muscles and reaction time. Grimmjow, already getting to his feet, had a look of shock on his face as Jellal came at him with furious speed. The cat-like arrancar had to roll out of the way. Dust and asphalt sprayed into the air as Jellal's blades narrowly missed their target, but the septimo was relentless, and continued his assault.
Grimmjow, so confident a second ago, was scraping by just barely, crawling and twisting out of the way of an assault he had never expected, trying desperately to get to his feet. Eventually he managed to twist himself up on his hands, launching himself into the air and landing on his feet, but Jellal had already closed the distance. Eyes wide, Grimmjow crossed his bladed arms in a defensive posture, the bladed parts of his arms chipping and cracking as one of Jellal's blades raked across them a hundred times in an instant.
Not a former espada for nothing, Grimmjow skipped back and found his footing, using a short step of sonido to get out of the way, but Jellal gave him no reprieve. Only the briefest of instants passed before Jellal caught up, and Grimmjow was forced to run again, skipping up into the air. He found Jellal waiting for him there, and Grimmjow's eyes widened again as a bladed, spinning arm raked across his chest, cutting through his armour and sending a spray of blood flying across the ground. Grimmjow was thrown to the ground, violently, and Jellal landed just beside where he had impacted, intent on finishing his opponent.
This time, it was Jellal's turn to get surprised. Despite the injury, Grimmjow had already gotten to his feet and cleared a considerable distance between him. The armour on his chest, considerably lighter than Jellal's, had been shredded where the cut had landed, and blood flowed freely from a nasty-looking cut. Grimmjow seemed not to even acknowledge it.
"That's a real nasty trick, innit?" he said, cracking his neck.
Jellal was breathing heavily, and held back for the moment.
"But, it cost you," Grimmjow continued, "or you wouldn't be panting. You hoped that'd be the end of it, didn't ya?"
Jellal grit his teeth, refusing to respond. He had hoped as much. The meteoric burst of speed was only temporary, and it consumed a fair bit of energy to use. Grimmjow seemed to notice, with the keen senses of an animal.
"My turn," said the former espada, and held his arms out and back, taking in a deep breath. He roared, and Jellal could feel the impact of it physically. He had to dig in his heels to hold on. Around him, every window not yet broken shattered into a thousand pieces, raining glass down on the street. Walls cracked, pieces of rubble blew around like they were dust, and Jellal had to bend forward and rest himself on his arms to maintain his balance. When he looked up again, Grimmjow was gone. Raising his bladed arms to get them spinning again, Jellal looked around. Where? Where would the next attack come from? Where was he-
"Garra de la Pantera!"
And there was Grimmjow, up in the air, arm folded in and elbow aimed at Jellal. Five jade-coloured darts shot out from the limb, and Jellal tried to raise his blades to form a shield, to throw them off. He was too late, and as he felt the darts slam into his body, he realized Grimmjow's ploy. The former espada had realized that it took time to use the spinning blades, and had used his roar to create an opening. Jellal took a short breath, and braced himself. His body was rocked by five small explosions, sending him staggering back and down onto one knee. His chest armour, already cracked, was very nearly cracked open. He had taken a nasty blow to his left shoulder, and worse, one of the darts had struck his left thigh, which was not nearly as well protected.
"See," said Grimmjow, landing nimbly with a self-satisfied grin, "I ain't the only one with an ace up my sleeve."
Jellal forced himself to stand, ignoring the great pangs of agony running through his left leg, like great blossoms of pain. Grimmjow's confidence was back, his posture relaxed. Jellal knew why. The time it'd take to get his blades spinning again would be too long. Closing the distance between them would take Grimmjow no time at all, and with his armour this damaged, Jellal would get cut open like a clam. In short, the former espada was sure he had Jellal just where he wanted him.
Good.
"Tell me one thing, Grimmjow," Jellal said, with a raspy breath. "Where do you think you will end up after the war is over? Do you think there will be a place for the likes of you in a shinigami's world? An unapologetic murderer?"
"Actually?" said Grimmjow, lazily taking one step closer. "Yeah. Red, she's both hard as nails and she sticks by her word. She said she'd watch out for me, and she will."
"Red."
"Call me stupid, I guess," said Grimmjow, "but… I trust Erza. Within reason, of course. You ain't going to throw me off this way."
"Erza," said Jellal darkly, and with one clumsy motion, he placed one bladed arm over the other, in a crossed position. "You're not worthy of even saying her name, you monster."
"What do you think-" said Grimmjow, sounding almost amused, but then he sensed the sudden spike in power.
"Grand Chariot!" Jellal snarled. In a circle in front of him, instantly, seven fully formed ceros appeared. There was a great, bright, red light, and suddenly there were no buildings around them, only rubble.
Jellal breathed heavily, and it took some effort to stand up properly and get his arms spinning again. He was getting tired. Still alert, though, he looked around. Where had Grimmjow gone? He hadn't managed to kill him yet, right?
"Well," came a familiar voice, and Grimmjow's familiar form dislodged from a pile of rubble, shaking off brick and mortar that had collapsed over him, "I gotta say I didn't see that one comin'. Real shame you didn't aim all of those things at me at once, though."
Somewhat unsteady in his step, Grimmjow walked out onto what remained of the street. He was covered in dust, and his arms were seared with black. He had blocked the hit, absorbing it directly. Even he hadn't had the time to get away.
"But, I gotta say," said Grimmjow, his wicked smile returning to his face, "as the hero here, I'm feelin' real concerned for these buildings you just toppled. I sure hope they was emptied in time, or you just killed a whole bunch o' humans."
"I- I-" Jellal stuttered, "I did what I had to…"
"I did what I had to do," said Grimmjow with a chuckle. "See, that ain't so hard to say, is it? You got cornered and you lashed out, doin' anything you could to not die. Like a true hollow."
"Shut up," Jellal growled. "I know what you're doing, you bastard. If you think you can break my resolve that easily, then I'll have to disappoint you."
"I think I already did," said Grimmjow. "What's the matter, hero? Ain't you sure you're right?"
He laughed, and Jellal charged forward, gritting his teeth. If he stopped to think, this wouldn't work anymore. Because, Grimmjow was right. Jellal had no way of knowing, but he might just have taken innocent lives to save himself for a cause he could not bring himself to believe in the way he used to, the way he had thought he did. Blade arms spinning, more slowly than before to conserve energy, he lashed out at Grimmjow. Laughing madly, the ex-espada weaved out of the way of each strike, dancing around them with ease. Jellal felt his breathing become laboured, erratic, and although Grimmjow was not looking spry, himself, he seemed to have plenty of energy left. Jellal had to find a way to tip the scales, and soon. As Grimmjow somersaulted back over one of the bladed arms, Jellal took a step back, holding his bladed arms up and still, channelling energy in between them. A great, red cero started to grow in between his arms, growing in size and power. Grimmjow paused, seeming unsure what to do. Although Jellal was vulnerable while charging this attack, Grimmjow didn't seem to want to risk it exploding on them both. That wouldn't happen, but then again, Grimmjow didn't know that.
"Alright, then," Jellal said with a bitter smile on his lips. "Let's see you handle this. Jiu Leixing!"
At his command the huge red orb, now almost as big as Jellal himself, split into nine, orbiting in a circle around his head. Grimmjow ran, taking off into the air.
"You think you can get away?" Jellal cried.
The orbs turned into long spear-like fragments, crackling with lightning. Holding this much energy at one time was taxing, almost overwhelming, but it would be worth it.
"They will find you no matter where you go!"
One after another, in rapid succession, the blades of lightning fired into the air, snaking after Grimmjow. He was off in the distance now, but it didn't matter. Once they had locked on an energy source, they would pursue it until they were consumed. One could not outrun it, only overpower it. As Jellal sunk down onto his knuckles to rest, he felt the first impact, then the second, then the third. Up in the sky, a storm of red lightning ravaged the former espada. Grimmjow seemed to be thrashing in there, lashing out at pure energy, as if that would help him. Defiant to the end; that was just like him. Jellal looked down, took a long, deep breath, and made ready to dismiss his resurreccion. Once this was finished, he wouldn't need it-
"Well, well, ain't you getting ahead of yourself? Resting like that."
The dismissive, cool contempt in Grimmjow's voice, just near him, made Jellal snap back to reality. There, landing gracefully on the ground, was the former espada. Great, long blue blades of raw energy emanated from his fingers, like impossibly long claws.
"Desgarron," said Grimmjow. He was singed, worse than before, and he was twitching. His hair was even messier than before, crackling with left-over static energy. "Good hit. But, if you thought I was running, you got me all wrong. Just needed a second to get these going," he said, flexing the energy blades.
"You… how…"
"Energy seeks energy," said Grimmjow with a shrug. "Everyone knows that. Hell of a storm you put out, though."
The blue blades flickered and broke, falling away and disintegrating.
"Now, though," Grimmjow continued, cracking his knuckles, "I think you're all outta tricks. No more bullshit. So, spin them blades at me, and we'll settle this one good and proper, like hollows."
The blades felt heavy as Jellal forced them to spin again. Where normally they would move so quickly they could not even be seen, the blades now rotated only quickly enough to do damage. His breathing was laboured, and his whole body felt heavy. That last attack had drained most of his reserves. With it having failed to kill Grimmjow, things looked dire.
But, he would not give up. He would fight till the bitter end, if only to spite the murderer.
Is that what it is now? he thought bitterly. Spite? Is that all I have left?
Grimmjow lunged, markedly slower than before. He was on his last legs too, it seemed, because one of Jellal's blades managed to graze him, sending the espada tumbling. He got up on his feet though, a fresh wound in his side dripping blood down his hip. Ignoring the wound, Grimmjow leaped at Jellal again. Jellal spun his blades in a defensive pattern, but to his surprise, Grimmjow curled into a ball, sailing just over Jellal's head. Tired and moving slowly, Jellal spun around to face him, but Grimmjow had already landed, gracefully leaping forward. Supporting himself on one hand, he lashed out with a sweeping kick. Jellal was struck at the back of his left knee, and his bladed arms were sent off course and into the street as his knee made impact with the ground, adding a new surge of pain to his aching body. Great heaps of dust and gravel were kicked up as his arms came to a stop.
Grimmjow had already retracted his leg, launching himself into the air. Jellal only just had the time to look up as a spinning axe kick came down, slamming into his skull with tremendous force. Jellal's head slammed into the ground, and for a moment, there was only blackness.
When he came to, moments later, Grimmjow was squatting on the tattered remains of his chest plate. His tail was wagging excitedly, and Jellal could feel the former espada's claws against his throat.
This was it. He could try to move his arms, try fighting back, but it would take Grimmjow but an instant to sink those claws into his throat and rip it out. Drawing in a deep breath, feeling as if it would be his last, Jellal finally lay back. He could feel Grimmjow slowly sinking his claws into his neck, piercing his hierro with ease. Any time now…
But, it stopped. Fresh blood trickled from where Grimmjow had pierced his neck, but there was no sudden jerk of movement, no ripping into his arteries, no spray of blood.
"What… are you waiting for?" Jellal wheezed.
"You know," said Grimmjow, cocking his head, "I actually ain't sure. It would be fun to end you. But, looking at your pathetic face right now… I don't even wanna do it."
"Stop joking around, murderer," Jellal hissed. "I'm the self-righteous hypocrite. The one who won't admit to who he is. The one you hate because I try to be more than Hueco Mundo made me."
"See, that's just the thing," said Grimmjow slowly. "You still think you're right, even if you doubt it. You don't believe in Aizen, but you still think you're better than me."
There was a sting as Grimmjow retracted his claws, pulling his hand back from Jellal's neck.
"This," said Grimmjow, standing up so that he was truly looking down on Jellal, "ain't charity or mercy, or some dumb shit like that. I want you to live, so when your precious Aizen fails, you get to see you were wrong all this time. I want you to look me in the eye when this is all over and I wanna see you tell me then that this is all good and justified. That's how it ends, hero."
"You-"
But Grimmjow didn't give him a chance to retort. A balled fist slammed into Jellal's face, and the espada went limp. Grimmjow usually did not leave enemies alive, and if he was going to start now, then he would definitely not leave them conscious and able to attack.
The king panther stood up, staring into the distance, into the sky. He was surprised with himself. This wasn't mercy, of course… but there was no way he'd have let an enemy live before he'd been taken prisoner by the shinigami.
"The hell are you doing to me, Red?" he muttered to himself.
As he spoke the last words, Aizen breathed a sigh of relief. Above him, a great circle of runes slowly levitated in harmonious patterns. In its center hovered the hougyoku, directing the spell with perfect accuracy. Invisible to the naked eye, but plain to see for anyone who could sense even basic spiritual matter, was a great vortex of spirit energy forming around it. The first part of the ritual was complete. The matrix would envelop the whole city when completed, and then victory would be his. All he would have to do now was calibrate just what level of spiritual power would be siphoned. With so many strong signatures present, he had to be precise. The spell could theoretically absorb even a high ranking shinigami, but the sheer amount of complexity and power that would take would be absurd, even with such a powerful tool as the hougyoku. No, all it needed to do was to absorb the souls of the citizens of Karakura, a far more manageable task.
"Why don't you show yourself?" said Aizen to the open air. "I can't pinpoint you exactly yet, but in this space right here, it is impossible to hide from me. The hougyoku lets me sense anything within this matrix. It needs to, to be able to do what I need it to do. But, you would know, wouldn't you?"
To his left, as if stepping into this reality from another, Urahara came into view. The scientist had dropped the ridiculous hat he usually wore, a sombre expression on his face. The man amused Aizen. A coward to the end, he had shown his hand only at the last moment, when he was forced to.
"Come now," said Aizen amusedly. "Surely you must have something clever to say. I wouldn't assume you are the, 'You'll never get away with this,' or, 'I'll stop you,' type, but some kind of witticism must come to mind, surely?"
"It really is a shame," said Urahara, and Aizen took note of the casual way he held his cane- his weapon, hidden away to look inconspicuous. Typical stealth corps nonsense.
"What is?"
"You're a brilliant man," said Urahara. "Of that there can be no doubt. A megalomaniacal psychopath, a narcissist with a god complex, but you are brilliant. This entire spell is… intensely brilliant to look at. Well," Urahara said with a smile, "it is based on my work, so I'll take some credit. But, even so, this… it's a work of genius."
"I assume you didn't come here to flatter me," said Aizen, in a small way both curious and taken aback. He had expected some degree of moral grandstanding, but the coward's words seemed to show sincere admiration.
"I'm here to stop you," said Urahara firmly. "That hasn't changed. But, looking at this, I feel as if you are a tragedy of a man, Aizen Sousuke. Imagine what you could have done if you had set out to serve the afterlife instead of seeking to rule it."
"Serve it?" Aizen sneered. "You do not believe in that, Urahara Kisuke. You were cast out, and even before that you were an assassin. You have never valued the Gotei itself, only your precious science."
"Perhaps I don't," said Urahara quietly. "I don't think service is inherently good, necessarily. But, it is a good way to bring focus to the mind, to find purpose and become constructive. The tragedy here is that you will never reach your full potential because you get in your own way, Aizen Sousuke."
"What do you even mean by that?"
"I mean that in the time you spent hoarding monsters and stabbing backs, you could have built great things. Lasting things. Rulers come and go, politics shift, but a mind like yours could have revolutionized everything."
"I wouldn't expect the likes of you to understand the change I will bring, but be assured it will last through the ages," said Aizen sharply.
Urahara shook his head.
"Not your way. Not when you seek to control so much at the same time. The world cannot be controlled. It cannot be bent to anyone's will. It is like a wild, flowing river, and the most you can do is steer its course very slightly by working very hard."
"Spoken like a man with no vision," Aizen said, shaking his head in distaste.
"I suppose that is the difference," said Urahara, slowly pulling his blade free from its faux cane sheath. "You believe in total control, and I do not."
"I have indulged you long enough," said Aizen dismissively. "Whatever ploy you have prepared will not be enough."
"Awaken, Benihime," Urahara called, and the blade changed shape in his hand. It was unusual in shape, much as Aizen would have expected, and he could sense a great destructive power about it. Undoubtedly, Urahara would have anticipated the superior ability of Kyouka Suigetsu, but what he could do about it was beyond Aizen to fathom. Its ability was unstoppable to all but the blind, and its weakness was known only to Aizen, himself.
"As amusing as it would be to cut you down," said Aizen, "I have a ritual to finish. Gin, if you please?"
In a masterful step of shunpo, the silver-haired psychopath put himself between Aizen and Urahara, blade already out.
"I doubt even somebody as sharp as you will find it easy to shake the likes of Ichimaru Gin," said Aizen, turning his back on Urahara. "In fact, I will be interested in the outcome. Two devious killers like you two would undoubtedly have quite the battle. It will not involve me, however."
Turning his attention to the next stage of the ritual, Aizen starter murmuring the right chants. This had worked out well. Not only was Urahara, one of the few unknown variables in this equation, now taken care of- but Gin, whose traitorous intent was obvious, would be preoccupied. As he heard the blades clash for the first time, Aizen smiled. It was all coming together. The kingdom of tomorrow was so close that he could see it before him.
Well folks, that's a good chunk of the espada down for the count, but will thing's continue to go so well for our heroes? That remains to be seen. I bet a good chunk of you are excited to see how the encounter with Aizen and Kisuke will play out...well, assuming he can get past Gin. Not an easy task as Im sure you all know.
That's all for now. I eagerly await your reviews for this chapter!