Chapter Forty Eight:

Prowling like the animal he was, Shiro circled his prey. Gold glinted eyes never straying from the horrified face of the Cuatro Espada who had abused his King. The rage seethed deep, the idea of someone touching his Aibou against his wishes again. He had avenged him before, he would do it again. Wanton, reckless urges to destroy and pilfer rushed through his very core like an addictive fuel urging him to attack, to ravage, to unleash carnage. But he held back.

Aizen had given him this opportunity, on the basis that he at least wait for the other Espada to witness the fall of one of their own. He wasn't sure why the man had suddenly flipped his decision, one minute he had reeked with the smell of someone who would save his subordinate, and the next minute he was content to allow the Cuatro Espada to meet his end. How very changeable.

Lazily, he dragged the tip of his white Zangetsu along the sand, drawing a perfect circle around his victim, watching as wide emerald eyes followed his every movement. It brought a smirk to his lips to see how unsettled the usually stoic creature was. It was a thrill he couldn't contain, allowing it to release in short bubbles of hysterical laughter that only seemed to add to the concern of the trembling wreck on the floor.

He could feel Grimmjow's eyes on him. He recognised the Sexta Espada with ease.

Not because of his vibrant hair, hair that was almost as startling as his Aibou's orange... No... He remembered him because of Sôkyoku Hill. That battle was as prominent in his mind as every other battle he'd ever fought, the Sexta had almost killed him, almost killed Ichigo. Not that it was Grimmjow's fault, at the time he'd been restricted by his Aibou's control, his Aibou's flesh and bone.

But not now.

Shiro owed him a rematch, and he would claim it once he was done with the pale mess on the floor. He could see that Grimmjow's quaking had subsided a great deal since he had first burst free from the restraints of Ichigo's mind, he wasn't sure why but there was something in those bright blue eyes... Something like understanding.

Blinking languidly as he took in the blue haired Espada's form and shape, the albino broke into a wholly sexual smirk. Oh he remembered. Ichigo had always felt uncomfortable around Grimmjow when they'd been in Soul Society together, and after the events of Sôkyoku Hill the strawberry had decided it was because Grimmjow had been an Arrancar in hiding. But that wasn't the truth. Not entirely.

The albino could remember now, while in complete control, the fragrant memory of blue hair and toned muscles. He could recall Ichigo's body being thrown down onto the bed in his dormitory in Shino. It was just like every other Friday, every other bunk up, every other fling. Except, Ichigo hadn't been the one in control. Shiro had snaked forwards, seduced the blue haired 'Shinigami' out of meagre curiosity and desire.

Ichigo didn't know. Ichigo... Didn't remember.

No wonder he'd felt such a primal need to defeat Grimmjow on Sôkyoku Hill, it was an instinctual urge to show he was stronger, he'd always been stronger... He'd simply chosen to submit in the past.

Freezing suddenly, Shiro tilted his head his lips parted in a small gasp of appreciation, feeling the powerful reiatsu heading their way. He could smell the familial tones of Hollows. Of Arrancar. Of Espada. It was like a warm embrace welcoming him home. Unable to resist rising to the unspoken challenge, he arched his back, releasing a screeching Hollow roar from the very pit of his stomach, black and red reiatsu spiralling around his ankles and wrists as the very basis of instinctual desire to be recognised as the strongest wove its way into his every action.

Looking around with that ever feral grin as he heard the recognisable pops and crackles of Sonido, he finally came face to face with Aizen's elite warriors. They were a strange bunch for sure, and they all appeared equally surprised by what they had arrived to see.

He could tell the weakest Espada by how they responded to his reiatsu, the trembling; the sweating; the desperate pulses of their own power trying to buffer the weighty stench of darkness. The weakest reiatsu among them belonged to the tall, thin Espada with bubblegum pink hair and glasses, his whiskey coloured eyes were wide and startled as he was almost entirely pushed to his knees in a spasmodic tremble of gasping breaths. He likely would have fallen had it not been for the dark skinned Espada beside him, who despite struggling with shallow breaths and obvious sweat trickles that lined his face. The jagged looking teeth that hung in a necklace around his thick neck were a nice savage touch to an expression that otherwise seemed to ooze meditative calm.

Nnoitra. He knew that face. When the Cuatro and the Quinto had come to claim Byakuya he had been afraid, he could sense the power dwelling within the absurdly lanky male, as well as the promised violence. He had known back then that he couldn't help his Aibou win that fight, but things were different now. Maybe he would make demands of the Quinto, to satisfy his bruised pride at having allowed Byakuya to be captured. He was, at least, pleased to see the few scatterings of sweat coiling on that illusively long neck.

Glancing down, he knew already that Ulquiorra was stronger than Nnoitra, which made little sense as to why the pale Espada was reacting so badly under his reiatsu. Was it genuine fear that was paralysing him? Or the knowledge that his master had abandoned him to his fate? Either way, the Cuatro had fallen silent in the presence of the other Espada, perhaps hoping they might step in and save him, or perhaps to save face, and not to look utterly pathetic before them.

Golden eyes moved to the busty blond, the only woman among the Espada, she had gently coaxed Byakuya from Aizen's grasp, and was now shielding him from the overwhelming ridges of fierce reiatsu licking at them. A cold snarl reached his ears at the sight of her arms encircling the nobleman and it took him a long moment to realise the sound had escaped his own lips, but hadn't been voluntary. The snarl had been Ichigo's.

He growled internally, "Back off! She's protectin' him."

He wasn't willing to continue allowing slips of Ichigo's personality to slip through the few remaining cracks. His Aibou wasn't strong enough for this fight, better that he sleep. Heal. Mend.

"Boss, who is this ant to lay hands on the Cuatro?"

Eyes dancing with amusement at the deep rumble that escaped the oldest looking Arrancar, Shiro allowed himself a moment to assess the appearance of what felt like the second strongest Espada. He appeared elderly, wide built and wore an air of regality that seemed ill suited to someone so arrogant. White hair was swept back by the remnants of his Hollow mask, taking the shape of a soft edged, five pointed crown. He didn't like him.

"Learn some respect, Barragan," the lean Espada who stood the tallest beneath the impressive levels of reiatsu he was unleashing, grumbled with an almost yawn brushing gloved fingers through his waves of brown hair as he observed the scene with lazy, yet calculating blue-grey eyes, "Are you that senile that you can't recognise someone you saw only a few hours ago?"

He liked this guy, he was brimming with idleness and a wilfulness to sleep, something Shiro was also acquainted with but there was power dwelling behind those eyes and impassive expression. Loneliness. Solitude. This was an Espada would would perfectly understand his and Ichigo's long standing attempts to curb the power they released around people too weak to survive under it. This was a man who also held back.

Gold eyes narrowed as he saw a brief flash of green before a small yet sprightly girl appeared from behind the brunet, raising an eyebrow he was able to detect that her reiatsu resonance was identical to the man she was now standing next to. They were one and the same. Two halves of the same Soul. For some reason it made him ache. If an existence like that was possible, could he achieve the same with his Aibou? Actually spending extended periods of time as separate beings? Rather than sharing the same body for the rest of eternity?

"Being awfully patient, aren't you?" Ichigo's voice suddenly filled his head like the unwanted buzzing of a fly, "They're all here to watch, just like you wanted. So don't you think it's time you got on with it? Or has the attractive Primera dulled your bloodlust?"

Almost sneering visibly at the attitude of his counterpart, he felt only a small pang of relief that his Aibou was recovering some of his sense of self, instead of wallowing in shame, though he didn't require his input.

"So... Ya satisfied?" He asked as he fixed Aizen with a lazy stare, "Or is there anyone else ya wanna have join this fuck-fest, Aizen-sama?"

The collective intake of breath from the Espada made him smirk widely, he respected Aizen as much as he ever had... Perhaps more now that he was the dominating Soul, but he wasn't prepared to kneel and kiss his feet. He wasn't like these... Sheep. He would bow when he wanted, to who he wanted! He'd accept the orders he wanted to accept! He'd listen when he was interested! He didn't have to slink back into the shadows the moment Aizen ordered it anymore, he didn't have to quiver at his voice and willingly accept everything he said. He was free! He was the leader! He-

Zangetsu rose sharply in front of his body, watching as the brunet Shinigami began to approach him instead of responding. He was determined to defend and kill his prey himself, he wouldn't risk interference. Not now. He was too close to fail now.

Shiro snarled, watched as the brunet only stopped when the very tip of the white blade was nestled in the centre of his collarbones, digging in just enough to force the skin to dip inwards. Chocolate eyes were boring into his own with an intensity that sent a shudder up his spine, he gnashed his teeth just to make sure the Shinigami knew he meant business.

"Would I be wrong," Aizen began, a smirk slowly pulling across his lips, "To assume you'd want to fight him in his Resurrecciōn form?"

Momentarily surprised, a single white eyebrow quirked excitedly, "Can I?" He could have kicked himself for sounding so eager.

"You can. But not here. Any Espada above Cuatro are forbidden to unleash their true forms within the palace, the transformation alone would be enough to cause the building to collapse." The man's gaze slowly moved towards the still quivering pink haired scientist, "Szayel. Open the roof."

"A-Aizen-sama?!" The man almost squeaked.

The change was subtle, but it was something Shiro had seen first hand so many times, it was like flicking a switch. The line of Aizen's lips grew thinner, the tightness around his eyes became more pronounced, and just for the smallest second, his breath caught in his throat.

Peering towards the Espada in question, Shiro flashed a menacing grin, "Ya might wanna listen, Pinkie, otherwise yer next on my menu."

Whiskey eyes widening at the promised threat, long fingered hands disappeared within the coat of his white uniform, fumbling as they produced a small device with a variety of coloured buttons, taking a moment to glance from Aizen to the white Hollow beside him, he silenced a gulp and prodded one of the buttons incredibly reluctantly.

Shiro looked skywards, grin stretching as he watched the vast blueness begin to rumble like an oncoming storm, a small circular darkness stretching above them, allowing the black inky truth of Hueco Mundo spill inside the palace.

"Now that's more like it!" He crowed, instantly lowering his sword from Aizen's throat as he flashed a sly wink at the brunet, sweeping down in one fluid movement as he snatched a fistful of inky black hair, hoisting Ulquiorra off the sandy floor, "Race ya there, Aizen-sama."

The crack of his Sonido was deafening as he shot skywards, cackling wildly as white turned black and he shot out onto the roof of Las Noches, sucking in a huge breath as he threw Ulquiorra to one side. He could hear and feel the other Espada following along with Aizen and Byakuya. If he wasn't mistaken he detected reiatsu belonging to Gin and Tōsen arriving too. The gathering appeared on the rooftop just as the temporary opening juddered shut, sealing them outside.

Spinning to the side, he planted the heel of his foot squarely in Ulquiorra's chest and watched as he was thrown like a ragdoll towards one of the large white towers at the peak of the domed roof. He darted after him, the crackling sound that filled his ears confirming the speed of his Sonido, this was going to be a piece of cake. But he was going to have some fun.

Ulquiorra flipped suddenly, feet planted against the tower, the force behind the landing creating a crumbling crater as the Cuatro drew his Zanpakutō and glared at the approaching white Hollow. Blood was running down his face from a cut on his forehead, and already he could feel full depth bruises blooming across his abdomen and torso.

"No matter how your appearance and techniques may resemble those of an Arrancar, it is as distant from us as the Earth from the sky. It is an understandable route for humans and Shinigami who wish to obtain power, to imitate Hollows. However, it will never allow you to stand upon the same level as Arrancar." Ulquiorra pointed his blade towards Shiro, face contorting into true loathing, "Enclose Murciélago."

Shiro almost flinched as he felt rain splashing against his skin without warning, he blinked several times and gasped softly as he realised the jade droplets were reiatsu hailing down on them all. It barely hid Ulquiorra's transformation from sight but everything became clearer as the rain stopped, revealing jet black wings that stretched wide, longer and wilder locks of black hair which fluttered free beneath the complete Hollow mask that sat atop his head like long outward extending bat ears. His white shihakusho was more snug against his body, closed at the top in a tight clasp around his throat as it flowed outwards like a robe at the bottom.

"Don't drop your guard. Stay fully alert. Don't get distracted, for even a single moment, trash."

Glowing green appeared in the Espada's outstretched hand, and Shiro barely saw it before it was right before his eyes, a gasp escaped his lips at the new and greater speed of his foe, eyes widening as he felt burning heat against his cheek, coming closer, searing hotter and hotter.

"Getsuga Tenshou!" He barked, arcing his white blade upwards as every instinct in his gut clawed its way free to defend him.

Black and red clashed with vibrant green in an explosive blast. The heat was scorching hot, like white flame tainted dark.

Shiro stumbled, falling onto one knee. His grin turning to a grimace as he watched crimson droplets of blood splash the concrete beneath his fingers, his gaze flitting around as he sensed Ulquiorra not far behind him, the smell of burning flesh tingling the back of his nostrils as he lifted a hand and touched his hairline, feeling the deep wound that appeared as a mottled mixture of burns and gouges.

"Interesting, your instincts are far sharper than I remember. Had you not released that Getsuga Tenshou, your head would be rolling by my feet." Ulquiorra spun the jade lance between his fingers thoughtfully, lips pursed tightly, "But your abilities won't touch me again. I've had more than enough time to learn about them. Getsuga Tenshou... It isn't so different from one of my powers. Allow me to show you."

Shiro spun on the spot, sword raised and teeth clenched in defence, blinking once as he watched the Espada lift his free hand, talon clad index finger stretching out towards him. In an instance, black and green was swirling to life, spinning incredibly fast and giving off small sparks of power.

"Cero Oscuras." The ball of power was released on command, exploding outwards towards the white Hollow almost identically to how a fully charged Getsuga Tenshou would. It blossomed outwards, growing larger and thicker, swallowing Shiro whole.

He gasped at the density of darkness swirling around him, feeling himself being picked up and thrown, his body arching awkwardly as he struck one of the white towers, smashing clean through it and sliding down a second until he hit the makeshift floor, he rolled once, twice, a third time, skidding to a stop when he dug his nails in, coughing harshly as his lungs burned.

It really was just like a real Getsuga Tenshou, he had felt their power and strength before and the... The Cero Oscuras was exactly the same. But how?! Why?! It made no sense to him... Made no sense at all.

Gold eyes snapped up as his prey appeared above him, a leathery wing lashing out and pinning him against the nearest wall, a green lance thrust forwards, spearing his chest and hanging him in place. Fingers tightened around his neck again. Shiro gagged on the blood coalescing in the back of his throat, some of it rose and splashed down his pale chin.

"Why have you not dropped your sword?" Ulquiorra asked, his eyes fixed on the white blade, a small frown slipping into place.

"Did ya think I'd give up just because ya seem a little stronger than before? We knew ya were strong from the very beginnin' when we sensed ya in Karakura town. Eyes followin' us no matter where we went... Tryin' to kill us, tryin' to pass it off as mistaken identity..." Shiro let out a low growling laugh, "Aibou might not have realised it but I did. Grimmjow knew what we looked like... So ya would have known too... It wasn't a mistake. Ya wanted us dead."

"How very perceptive of you." The response was cold, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

"I won't drop our sword." He purred, grin slowly stretching, "Not for the likes of you, Ul-qui-orr-a."

"I see." The Espada stepped back, turning his back on him and taking measured steps back towards the crowd of watchers, "You have no perception of true strength, the likes of you never do. That is why you do not deserve it. Allow me to educate you before I erradicate you from sight."

Watching as that same black and green reiatsu began to swirl again, this time encapsulating his body entirely, Shiro was struck hard by another jump in his foe's power, he could just about see physical changes beyond the wall of darkness, the cracking of a whip-like sound ringing in his ears. At this distance, he could see Aizen's face, and he too looked surprised.

"Resurrecciōn. Segunda Etapa."

Everything was revealed in an instance, while black wings remained his long white attire was long gone, revealing his slender torso, chest patterned so that it almost seemed as if his Hollow hole was dripping black, blood-like liquid. His waist was covered in thick black fur, the same which now covered his arms and legs, fingers claw like and feet like talons. His eyes were different too, irises now yellow while the sclera had turned jade, teal tear markings had thickened and blackened, and all that remained of his Hollow mask were the two large bat-like ears that sprouted from his crown. The white Hollow could see the long black tail that had undoubtedly made the whip cracking noise previously, and he tilted his head, surprised that the creature before him was only the Cuatro Espada.

"I am the only Espada that has developed a second release state. Even Aizen-sama has never seen me in this form." Ulquiorra rolled his shoulders, expression setting back into one of disinterest as he glanced towards the watching mass, "Despite this, do you still have the will to fight?"

Tearing the lance free from himself, Shiro stepped forwards, spitting blood to the side as he held Zangetsu just a little tighter, "Don't make me laugh, ya think a pretty little dress change is gonna put me off. You must be insane if you think-"

He was silenced by a dark furry hand on the side of his head, suddenly pushing him sideways smashing him against the floor and dragging him along it until cuts and open wounds littered every inch of his body, tearing aside some of the fabric of his coat-like shihakusho and rousing a cry of pain from his pale lips.

Righting himself the moment the hand disappeared, twisting clumsily on the spot to block the oncoming attack of another green lance, sparks clashed between them, scattering the ground like more rain. He let out a roar of anger and pushed harder, shoving the Espada back and hailing several weighty blows down on him, only to receive a sharp boot to the chest wound that had liberally been spreading crimson down his pale attire.

Panting harshly as he collided with another pillar of concrete, bursting through with effortlessness he was uncomfortable with, Shiro struck the floor, gagging faintly as blood seeped between his lips, he lifted his gaze angrily, observing the seemingly calm demeanour of his enemy.

"Lanza del Relámpago." Ulquiorra momentarily clasped his hands together before drawing them apart, a thicker, stronger lance of crackling green energy fizzled into life, "I would prefer not to use this at close range... So feel free to stay where you are."

Eyes widening as the spear flew towards him at an incredible speed, he lurched to his feet and lifted Zangetsu to deflect the blow, a choked sound escaping him as the Espada's black tail suddenly lashed out, wrapping around his wrist and yanking his sword arm to the side, he released a sharp Hollowfied cry as he was engulfed in volatile green. He felt the heat and the blast, pain rippled through his body as an arm, a leg, fingers were scattered in every direction. Blood splashed carelessly as the light faded.

Shiro hit the floor, eyes searching downwards as he took in his current state. A bubble of surprised laughter escaping him as he stared at what was left of his body. His head dropped back onto the stone roof, he could see Zangetsu embedded in the wall nearby, and beyond that he could see Byakuya tearing himself free from the olive skinned Espada.

The stupid noble was running towards him, unable to Shunpo thanks to the reiatsu suppressing bangles around his wrists. He'd never make it before one of the other Espada snatched him back up and dragged him to safety. With a frown, Shiro saw Aizen raise a hand, preventing any such action from taking place.

Byakuya was left to sprint across the open space, his expression open and mortified. Shiro could hear him yelling, telling him to get up, telling him to fight. Easy for him to say. He hadn't lost a third of his body. He grew light headed, vision blurring as blood loss took over. A frown touched the Hollow's face as he saw Ulquiorra's tail whip around, entrapping Byakuya's throat and hoisting the Shinigami into the air, dangling him like a trophy. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see it.

"You said you could win." Ichigo's voice was thick with accusation, judgement, disappointment.

"I didn't expect him to have two Resurrecciōn forms. Shut the fuck up." He spat back.

"You're a mess because you decided to play with your fucking food." Ichigo's voice was angry, complaint getting worse, "Are you going to sit there and watch him kill Byakuya? Are you going to let your prey win?"

Biting his tongue in annoyance, the Hollow knew he was right, but he still tried to ignore the angry voice in his head. Blotting Ichigo out, snuffing him deeper into the depths of the inky ocean he'd created in his mind. Enough was enough. He was in charge now. But... He had played for too long. The thrill of the fight, the excitement, the rigorous enjoyment of being free had lead him astray. Now someone important to both of them was in danger.

"Sorry... This is all a bit shit, ain't it..." He said loudly, eyes cracking open as black and red reiatsu gushed from inside his body and swept outwards, stemming the flow of blood, repairing the damage, "Ya would think... After twenty six years I'd have a better grasp on wantin' to mess around and torment people."

The silence that followed his statement was almost deafening and as he slowly picked himself up, making a point of flexing the newly grown limbs, he cricked his neck and raised his eyebrows suggestively at Ulquiorra, his usual cocky grin returning as he flexed his fingers, summoning Zangetsu from its resting place in the wall. He swept the blade around as soon as it was within his clasp, throwing dust into the face of the Cuatro Espada.

He wasn't wasting anymore time. It was time to end this game of cat and mouse.

An exuberant laugh escaped him as he wove through the air, each movement precise and like water swirling around in a tempestuous crash. Zangetsu was brought down in a pirouette, slashing clean through the tail that was cutting off Byakuya's ability to breathe. With one free arm, he caught the noble as he fell and helped remove the tufty tip of tail from around his throat.

"Yo, Kuchiki. We gotta stop meetin' like this ya know?" He offered a wide toothy smile to the startled noble, feeling a fluttering warmth in his belly as he saw just how relieved Byakuya was, then he turned to the Espada and shouted loudly, "Someone catch him!"

He hurled the startled nobleman back towards the Hollows, taking just a moment to watch as Starrk, Harribel and Grimmjow all darted forwards to catch the Shinigami. It appeared that Grimmjow won.

The moment the noble was out of harm's reach, he turned his attention back to his victim, his grin widening slowly, menacingly, full of promise and threat, and pain, "Now... I gotta apologise. But, if I lose to ya here because I decided to play around, Aibou's gonna be really pissed off at me."

"High speed regeneration?" Ulquiorra breathed, looking at his renewed form in horror, "Just how far will you go to trample on what we are, trash."

Throwing his head back, Shiro released a true belt of cackling laughter, allowing insanity to seep through the cracks before he brought a hand up, holding it tight in front of him. Power began to swirl between his fingertips, taking shape across his face as the black mask he'd abandoned in the palace below formed across his face.

"Wouldn't ya like to know?" With a single, solitary yank downwards, the mask completed, black and white, horns stretching high, golden eyes glowing in the slits, teeth parting enough to reveal his trademark smirk as he shot across the rooftop, twisting and turning, spiralling and twirling, dancing the dance macabre, every fibre of his being alive. The energy was flowing, faster than blood, faster than air.

His movement were familiar, a complex concoction of Aizen and Byakuya, whisked together with something that was a complete mix of Ichigo and Shiro together. That insane unpredictable edge that couldn't be foreseen.

Ulquiorra was keeping up, but barely. He now bore vastly more wounds than the white Hollow, breathing ragged, body heavy, suffering under the impending weight of reiatsu that constantly crashed against him. Cero Oscuras was deflected with a snap of fingers. Lanza del Relámpago was batted aside with bare hands.

Shiro was relentless, pushing him harder, faster, further. Never giving up. Never lessening the power behind each blow.

Suddenly, Zangetsu was cast aside, impaled in the stone floor as he lashed out with talon sharp fingers, digging at every expanse of flesh he could reach.

"Make it slow. Make it painful." He coiled his legs around the Cuatro Espada's waist, slithering around him like a snake until he was behind him, fingers hooking into his back, tearing his wings off with brute force, laughing maniacally at the pleasant scream of pain his actions rouses, "Teach him the meanin' of fear!"

Slipping free, he bent forwards and impaled Ulquiorra on the horns of his mask, hoisting him up into the air ruthlessly, "Are ya afraid yet? Being so overpowered while in yer second release form? Knowin' I got the power to end yer life with a snap of my fingers... Knowin' that no one is gonna save ya. Are ya scared... Ulquiorra Cifer?" He threw the lithe man down, grabbing him by the throat as he lifted him as if he was nothing.

Black and white lips leaked blood, teeth clenched in defiance despite the pain. Shiro could smell the Espada trying to use his own high speed regeneration to come with the injuries. Tutting, he tipped his head forwards, pointing his horns towards the Espada's chest before he began charging a brilliant crimson Cero, it grew larger and larger until he released it, allowing the scarlet light to immerse them both.

He threw Ulquiorra's body down on the roof, watching as his arms and legs disintegrated from the heat and the fire, he had no doubt the Espada would be able to heal if he was given the time to do so. He planted the heel of his foot in the man's chest, pinning him down as he watched stubs take on shape, reverting to resemble limbs again.

"Impressive." He breathed.

"I do not wish for trash to compliment me." Came the hoarse reply.

"I'm really done with hearin' ya call me trash." White locks of hair that were stained red from blood fluttered around his face as he shook his head, "Ya got no idea... Do ya? Ya got no idea who ya messed with."

"I had the misfortune to mess with Human scum." Yellow and green eyes narrowed venomously, "Ichigo Kurosaki never deserved Aizen-sama's affections, nor the power given to him. He's nothing more than human trash. A befitting host for something like you."

Shiro dropped down to straddle the Espada, and he hooked his fingers under the chin of his mask and lifted it free, holding it above his head and allowing it to disintegrate between the digits, he tilted his head and smiled down at the Espada, dragging one finger along his cheek. He was pleased when the contact drew a shudder of displeasure.

"Yer right." He mused, his voice taking on a soft, purring edge as he leaned closer, slowly running his tongue along the line of black tear-like markings on his face, "He is the most befittin' host for something like me. But unfortunately, he ain't here right now."

Blinking as he felt a sudden impact in the region of his chest, the albino raised an eyebrow and pulled back, looking down to see a fiery green lance sticking into his chest. Rolling his eyes, growing bored Shiro grabbed the scalding spear, making eye contact with the Cuatro Espada as his fingers tightened, shattering the jade energy. He wasn't at all surprised when Ulquiorra's expression turned horrified upon seeing his completely uninjured torso.

At last revealing the fear Shiro had been waiting for, Ulquiorra recoiled, "W-What... What are you... Ichigo Kurosaki..."

Standing slowly, he stepped away from the Espada as he summoned Zangetsu back to his grasp, he made eye contact with the chocolate brown eyes that had never once left him since the battle had begun. Aizen was still watching, patiently. He felt a surge of contentment wash over him and released a tiny sigh as his lust for bloodshed began to wane.

"I told ya... Ichigo Kurosaki ain't here right now."

His free hand rose, sweeping his waist length silvery locks over one shoulder, revealing something unseen on the left hand side of his neck to the crumpled Espada. He watched as disbelieving eyes swept over the exposed skin, widening in terror before a suffocated cry escaped the Cuatro at what he saw.

Smile sliding from his face, he took measured steps forwards, planting his feet either side of the Espada's head, "Now... Do ya understand?"

"I... I'm sorry..." The breathless, whimpering tone that escaped Ulquiorra was incredibly pleasing to the ears, he was even more gleeful when the Espada released his Resurrecciōn form, reverting to his normal body in an act of submission, "I didn't know... I swear to you... I didn't know..."

"Of course ya didn't," he snorted, lifting Zangetsu and carefully slotting the top of the blade just beneath the lip of the helmet like mask on the other man's head, "Don't be afraid, Ulquiorra... I ain't gonna kill ya."

"W-What?"

"I gave him my word, ya see, to make ya long for somethin' as sweet as death." He dipped the blade deeper, wiggling it slightly as if to make his point, "I can't refuse his last wish."

"NO! Anything but that! Please!" Ulquiorra's green eyes were wide now, unbelievably so, his breathing frantic, "Please! Kurosaki-sama!"

With a sickening squelch and a snarl, he cleaved the Espada's mask from his head, watching as it rolled away across the blood splashed roof. Ulquiorra's screams were ear piercing, penetrating and pathetic. The Arrancar was spasming wildly on the floor, writhing like a slug in salt, his body convulsing.

"My name ain't Kurosaki." He said simply, flicking his sword to one side to rid the stains of blood that dared to sit there, "My name... Is Shiro."

Snatching a fistful of black hair, he dragged the screeching mess of broken Arrancar towards the watching crowd, sword scratching faintly at the concrete as he grew close enough to see the varied expressions of horror and surprise across the faces of the other Espada.

He settled golden eyes on Aizen, dropping Ulquiorra's body as he stabbed Zangetsu into the roof, coming to a sharp stop only a few steps away from his creator. Shiro stared into the chocolate pools that had never left his form, tilting his head curiously at the expression he saw seated on his face. It was something of an enigma, so many different emotions that were barely revealed. Pride, horror, wonder, shock, disapproval, excitement...

Sucking in a breath, a blisteringly bright smile stretched across his lips as he dropped down onto one knee, bowing to the Shinigami, "Cero Espada... Reportin' for duty. Aizen-sama."

"C-Cero... Espada?" He heard Byakuya's disbelieving voice to his right but he didn't lift his head, he didn't even twitch. Ichigo was quiet now, sleeping, slumbering deep, his was his time to shine.

A soft touch to the top of his head brought a purr from his lips, and only then did he dare to lift his gaze, golden eyes fluttering as he found Aizen crouched in front of him, that soft touch sliding down until it cupped his chin, a slow smile forming on his lover's face.

"Welcome home."