Editing/QC: Trolzylulzy
--Tiny hotfix, 5/25/19: Thanks to SomethingAncient for pointing out that I somehow mixed up Kiyone with Isane. Fixed for accuracy.--
The more I write, the more I realize how little I truly planned out before starting this, and how much faster I'd be able to release chapters if I had.
Hindsight 20/20, right?
Anyways, had a couple of questions in the comments this time that I can reasonably answer, though of course I can't say on certain subjects. Spoilers and such.
One was from an anonymous reader about Ichigo's Adjucha form from the very beginning; which, I will freely admit, I took from several inspirations. I had the general body design in mind, a sort of mix between Behemoth from Final Fantasy (though smaller) and a more reptilian concept, then appropriated details from Ichigo's Hollow form when he was training with the Visords; the black markings, the tail and such. The mask I designed myself, though that was pretty loose to allow for reader interpretation.
The other question, from Junko-chanisdangerous, was about Zangetsu. Which, while I can't answer at this time, happily this chapter hints at what's going on. I can at least point out that even with everything that happened in canon, the reforging and all, that it was in fact still just Zangetsu. I think that's important. The issue of his zanpakuto will certainly be relevant as the story progresses, and I do have plans. Beautiful plans. Plans of which I am quite excited to implement down the road.
That's it for now. As always, I hope you enjoy, and I'll see you next time.
Chapter 16:
Yin had expected many things from serving directly under an Espada, especially one with a less than savory reputation; she'd expected strict orders, sudden and violent mood swings, and even life-threatening situations for her and her sister. Instead, she found the man they now followed to be nothing short of – dare she say it – pleasant.
His moods swung from casually disinterested to oddly amicable at any given time, lapsing into intense silences when he was deep in thought, orange brows meeting in an angular 'V' as he unconsciously scowled. The first and only true command he had ever given them was during their first night staying in the quarters belonging to their new leader, demanding that the two of them get some sleep after the day's hectic events...to which they had been only too happy to agree, finding an empty bed and immediately succumbing to exhaustion, both mental and physical. The next morning had found them reinvigorated, what they considered to be a new lease on life fresh in their eyes, and ready to begin their duties.
Of which they had distressingly few.
The Fifth Espada had denied their insistence to wait on him in nearly any regard other than bringing news from around the palace. He regularly vanished without a word, reappearing hours later and expressing surprise at their indignation – the platters of food he occasionally brought back managed to placate Yang most of the time. In those instances, the elder sister had caught the Espada watching the younger redhead several times with something resembling fond nostalgia before he would start uncomfortably, shaking his head and turning away with a frown.
The few times that they had managed to catch the man before he slipped away showed them other small glimpses of what lay behind the cool exterior. Genuine cheer when around Lady Nelliel and her fracción; seeming honesty when talking to most others; the way he deliberately avoided looking too closely at Lady Harribel during their training sessions – though that had gotten him smacked around by the dark-skinned woman more often than not recently, and he was slowly adjusting.
It was the little things, Yin had come to realize, that made the orange-haired Arrancar so…personable. One side of him was still the feared Espada, cold yellow eyes promising destruction when angered. But the other was just a man, slightly lost, making his way through the dark world they inhabited as best he could.
Aren't we all, she thought, a touch dryly.
Dismissing her contemplations, she gave Yang a meaningful look as she stood, realizing it was time. Her identical twin nodded, blowing an errant red bang out of her eyes as she rose, and they both moved towards Ichigo's quarters, heels clicking on the floor in perfect synchronicity.
Upon knocking and receiving a grunt in response, the sisters entered and knelt in one smooth motion. Yin raised her head after a moment to see the Espada regarding them with a distinctly disgruntled expression – he knew what they were here for. They had been at odds over it since soon after their initial meeting.
Today, the matter would be settled.
Yin was the first to begin, blue pigtails swaying gently as she leaned forwards with her proposal.
"Master Kurosaki?" she asked.
"No," Ichigo immediately answered.
Yang, directly to her right, was next.
"Your Majesty?"
"No," came the expected reply.
Yin repressed her exasperation, mind searching for another suggestion as her sister spoke.
"Lord Kurosaki?"
They both saw a flash of some unknown emotion in his yellow eyes, and if she didn't know better Yin would have called it fear.
"Hell no."
Both sisters pouted.
They had both been pestering him about the correct form of address for days now, and the only thing they had learned from it was that being called such made him exceedingly uncomfortable. Regardless, it was both a show of their respect and a display that he was, in fact, an Espada. It was only appropriate.
The process, however, was akin to pulling teeth.
Yin came back from her own thoughts again, and found herself amused at the outlandish titles Yang was blurting out in mild desperation.
"Your Eminence?"
"No."
"Imperator?"
"Wha-no."
"Baron?"
"No! I'm Japanese!"
Yin imagined he deeply regretted reminding her of that at the sight of the red-haired woman blinking and looking rather thoughtful.
"…Goshujin-sama?"
The look of abject horror on the Espada's face was something that would remain in her mind for a long time, and she fought back a smile.
For a brief moment Yang looked relieved before she continued bombarding him with questions. Yin examined Ichigo as the two bickered back and forth, thinking.
He clearly prefers to be relaxed over everything else, insisting we just call him by his first name. Simple, uncomplicated. Maybe…
She raised one gloved hand to stop her sister mid-rant, the corners of her mouth quirking up at seeing the hazy shimmer of heat wafting off of the riled woman's silhouette.
"Master…" she ventured tentatively.
The other woman, as usual, seemed to pick up on what she was thinking, interrupting the man before he could shoot the suggestion down. "Master…Ichigo?"
His expression went through several varying degrees of conflict before he let out an aggrieved sigh. "Fine."
Yin looked to her sister, realizing they were both growing matching smiles, and they looked forwards again –
Ichigo was gone, the small cup he had previously been nursing in one hand spinning in a lazy circle on the table.
Her cobalt eyes shot to the opposite side of the room to see the man's huge zanpakuto mysteriously gone from its place in the corner.
Yang was typically the one to show signs of her abilities when riled – Ichigo himself seemed to get the most amusement from it – but even the crimson-haired woman flinched in surprise as the lights nearby suddenly flickered, the air smelling of ozone.
"Well then. Let's go after him," Yin said, tone betraying not the slightest hint of irritation as she rose. Her sister frowned.
"How? You know how crazy fast he is."
She nodded, stalking out of the room. "That's true. But do you know what he isn't?"
"What?"
"Good at hiding his spiritual pressure."
O--O--O
To their great relief, it didn't take very long to catch up to their errant master; as they had both realized, stealth wasn't his forte.
What they hadn't expected was to regret their persistence almost immediately.
O--O--O
Yang felt herself shivering, though the sensation had nothing to do with how cold it may have been and entirely on where they happened to be.
She and her sister, in hot pursuit of Ichigo, had followed the lingering trail of his reiatsu all the way to one of the least visited places in the entirety of Las Noches: the domain of Szayelaporro Grantz. To their knowledge, this was not a place to visit unless you were entirely devoid of common sense or had no value for self-preservation. Yet still, here they were, buried deep in the recesses of the maze-like complex.
The fact that they had not yet seen anyone else was of no comfort.
"Master."
The orange-haired Arrancar glanced back at her worried whispering.
"Where are we going?"
He grimaced, turning forwards as the trio reached yet another intersection of corridors. He looked down each of the three identical hallways splitting off from where they now stood, perfectly mirroring the same set of smooth white halls they had been walking down for what seemed like hours.
"I dunno," he replied, infuriatingly calm for the situation, and she withheld an annoyed growl. She noticed the corners of her sisters lips twitch up for a moment in her direction, though she was still keeping a wary eye on their surroundings.
"You said you'd been in here before though, right?"
"Yeah."
"And?" she pressed.
"It was uh…different back then," the man admitted, sounding sheepish. Yang felt the strong urge to burn something.
"So we're lost."
He let out a defeated breath. "...Yeah."
With that admission the lights promptly went out.
Yang swore under her breath and flicked one wrist, a small orb of fire forming above her open palm and growing to the size of an apple, lighting up the immediate area with a warm glow. Ichigo blinked at it curiously, appearing impressed, and her temper abated at the small touch of pride that arose. Ignoring Yin's knowing look, she raised the orb higher, feeding it more energy. It swelled rapidly, brightening the hallway –
And illuminating a ghostly pale face hovering just over her shoulder.
With an ungainly scream she twisted in panic, hurling the fireball at the figure before she could think. To her horror she heard a snap of fingers and the energy simply vanished, darkness falling back over the three Arrancar instantly. Another snap, and to their relief the lights flared, revealing a pink-haired and spectacled figure standing not two feet away.
Ichigo's expression brightened at the sight. "Hey doc. Where've you been?"
The Eighth Espada – Yang tried to ignore that their master had just called the insane man 'doc' – raised one perfectly thin eyebrow at him. "I've been occupied. Did the fact that the labyrinth was active not tell you that I was not receiving visitors?"
"Well sure, but by the time I realized, we were in too far to find the way out."
Szayelaporro's other pink brow rose to join its brother.
"It is designed otherwise. Clearly," the Espada smirked at some hidden joke, "I was not prepared for your caliber of idiocy."
Yang couldn't help it – she snorted out a surprised laugh, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth as the scientist's cold eyes traced over the two women.
"Hmm. And who are your little friends?"
Ichigo introduced them, as both she and her sister were finding it difficult to speak, and Szayelaporro's pink eyes glinted unsettlingly.
"Ah yes, the twins. You truly are a magnet for interesting things, aren't you Ichigo?"
The way the man lingered over the name made her distinctly uncomfortable, as did the flicker of some dark and unknown thing in his expression as he examined them critically. Without warning the Espada straightened. "But, as I said, I am occupied. I have no time for such trifles if this is a social visit."
Ichigo ignored the casual dismissal, squaring his shoulders, and stated casually. "My zanpakuto is fixed."
Szayelaporro waved the words away with a small amount of scorn. "Trivial. I told you it would."
"You did," their master admitted, a triumphant expression forming. "But it only healed after resurrección."
The man froze mid-step, halfway through turning away, and smoothly pivoted on one heel to stare at him. Slowly, an eerie too-wide smile split his thin features.
"Follow me."
O--O--O
Szayelaporro led the trio further in silently, yanked the oversized weapon off of the other Espada's back without ceremony, and set about examining the unsheathed and fully restored blade.
Ichigo stood nearby, toned arms folded and yellow eyes watching him carefully as he worked, his two little attendants doing their best to subtly hide themselves behind his broad shoulders. The Arrancar found it amusing to occasionally let his eyes wander over, seeing them freeze like a deer in headlights, but never let the entertainment distract him too much.
Now, to summarize…
"Why the zanpakuto itself is separate from your resurrección remains a mystery, but the blade is still in a semi-dormant state," he proclaimed after a lengthy silence, "Though it does appear that your progress has awakened it some."
The Fifth Espada raised one curious orange brow, stepping closer. "How do you know?"
Szayelaporro fixed him with a disbelieving stare, and Ichigo shifted uncomfortably until he pointed one thin finger at the hilt. "Please, for what little sanity I still care to possess, tell me you at least noticed those."
The man stepped up to the table the sword was laying on, lips parting in surprise at seeing what he meant, and the Espada let out a pained sigh. He was pointing at the new addition of two short blue tassels attached to the base of the red-wrapped handle, which apparently the owner had not yet realized were there.
"Hey, I was worried about the blade itself being fixed," Ichigo said defensively, though he did have the decency to look at least a little embarrassed.
Szayelaporro sighed and adjusted his glasses. "No matter. The change is clear progress, as is achieving resurrección. I imagine it is only a matter of time until we see how it evolves."
"Um…"
Both Espada turned to see the blue-haired twin start under their attention, taking a brief moment to gather herself before asking, "What do you mean, 'evolve'?"
"Ah, so they can speak," he mused, the woman turning pale from his attention. Szayelaporro felt a small smirk grow, honestly rather impressed at her composure, though it didn't seem to reassure either Arrancar. "I'm rather surprised you hadn't told them yet," he said, looking to Ichigo as he slid the weapon back across the table.
"I don't make it a habit of telling people my life story," he grumbled, lifting and sheathing the weapon in one smooth movement – impressive, considering the unwieldy size of the thing.
Ignoring the comment, Szayelaporro felt the call of his earlier work beckoning, turning away and waving one careless hand over his shoulder. "Try not to break your zanpakuto in the meantime. I have work to do and no time for other distractions."
"Do I want to know what it is?"
The look he sent back at the young man seemed to speak volumes. Ichigo grimaced, turning towards another door himself before pausing. "Oh, will we be able to find the way out now?"
"It has been idiot-proofed, yes."
The orange-haired Espada opened his mouth to retort, but an insistent push from his two fracción had him stumbling out of sight with a startled curse.
The doors sealed immediately afterwards as he snapped the fingers on one hand, and another hidden opening slid open. Szayelaporro stepped in, surveying the surgical tools he had left only minutes ago.
Picking up a scalpel gently, he approached the center of the room where a cloth-bound, nearly mummified figure was resting. Traces of crimson still lingered on the wrappings, but he was pleased to see the incisions from earlier had fully healed in the short time he had been away.
"How wonderful it must be, to be meant for only one true calling, my dear subject. I am cursed with…purpose, you see. I have many pursuits, and all call for my attention," he crooned, sliding an adoring hand down one bandage-covered shoulder. The figure did not react.
"In yours, I must ensure that you are unmatched in your destined field. So, Wonderweiss…shall we continue?"
O--O--O
Any Hollow now in Las Noches could vouch for the rise in power that came with becoming an Arrancar, and many other benefits. The reclamation of full sanity, the reduction of their animalistic instincts, and the comforts of once again having a human body. What they hadn't realized was that they would also have to worry about human discomforts as well.
Such as standing still for hours on end.
For what felt like the thousandth time today, Loly Aivirrne shifted her weight, wincing at the sensation of blood rushing back into the soles of her feet after so long. Menoly Mallia, the other of Sousuke Aizen's aides, looked over sympathetically from her place at the other side of the archway they stood at.
Standing guard for the current lord of Hueco Mundo might seem like the most useless position available to most. If it were for anyone else, Loly might agree. But she was devoted unlike any other to her master, and had leapt at the opportunity to be of use to him in any way possible. In every way possible.
God, my feet are fucking killing me.
The Arrancar brushed one of her sleek black twintails back off of her shoulder, allowing herself a moment to relax and stretch. She gasped in pained relief as a tendon in her knee popped, Menoly smiling as she did the same.
They may be devoted to their task, but being human again came with it's share of upkeep.
The two teenage Arrancar shared more than just their duties; their mask fragments were mirrored, each with an identical ring of skeletal structure over one of their eyes, Loly over her left, while Menoly's covered the right. Otherwise, each of them appeared fairly different, Loly with her styled wear, skirt, and long black hair, Menoly with her short, spiked blonde cut and pants. The similarities had some questioning whether they were sisters or not, but they had never confirmed nor denied anything to anyone.
They both finished their stretching, assuming their posts at the door once again – and just in time, as three silhouettes turned the corner and began the ascent up the staircase they stood at.
With a chill, she recognized the leading figure as the recently appointed Fifth Espada, the two nearly identical female Arrancar following him unknown to her. The orange-haired man came to the landing at the top, glancing at them curiously. Loly chanced a look towards Menoly, recognizing the barely hidden fear in her companion, and cursed internally. She steeled herself, assuming a stance with her hands drawn behind her back and slipping the hilt of her zanpakuto into reach.
"H-how can we help you, sir?" she asked as calmly as she could. He blinked at her, yellow eyes scanning over her tense frame for a moment, and her fingers twitched.
"I was looking for Aizen, I figured he would be around here."
Huh? Oh.
She felt her cheeks heat up at the obvious nature of the statement. "Um…right. Just a second." Loly sent a meaningful look towards her blonde companion, who started out of her stupor and quickly ducked into the room behind.
Left alone to guard the entryway, she couldn't help but furtively look over the other three; the two women she scanned over quickly, still rather surprised to see how identical they were in appearance, but she inspected the taller man by far the most.
She had never seen the one nicknamed the 'demon' up close, but she had to admit he wasn't exactly…as expected. From the rumors and the distant vantage point she'd had at Lord Aizen's last address to them, she had expected something far more outlandish than what stood before her now, hands in pockets as he idly let his gaze wander the upper reaches of the corridor.
Her eyes unintentionally lingered over his exposed biceps.
He's not exactly hard to look at, is he?
A sudden clattering from behind had her starting violently as Menoly reappeared, looking confused. "Lord Aizen isn't here!"
The words took a moment to sink in.
"What?!" she shrieked, whirling and shoving past the door, looking around the seemingly empty room they had been standing outside for hours. Her face heated up again in embarrassment, and she felt her temper flare along with it. She turned – and squeaked in surprise as the Espada leaned over, somehow right next to her without making a sound. The man frowned as he confirmed the verdict for himself, stepping back and scratching the back of his head. "Damn. Any idea where he'd be then?"
Perhaps due to the casual attitude he continued to show, Menoly seemed to muster her courage enough to speak. "We thought he was in here, sir. M-maybe one of the other Shinigami might know?"
She stiffened as he looked at her thoughtfully, relaxing after a moment when he nodded. "Worth a try. Thanks, uh...?"
He raised one orange eyebrow at them in question, and Loly recovered herself enough to stammer out her own name, followed by her partner. The Arrancar smiled, thanked the both of them, and jogged back down the stairs, the other two women following without so much as a sound.
As they turned out of sight, Loly sagged against the doorway as the tension left her body. Menoly did the same, shaking her head wearily. "That wasn't at all what I expected," she breathed. "He's way nicer than the rumors."
"Yeah, he's...weird."
Menoly glanced at her, the one visible green eye glinting in sudden humor. "Can't hide it from me, you were getting an eyeful when I came back."
For the third time today, she distinctly felt her cheeks redden.
"I-I wasn't looking at anything!" she protested, though clearly not convincingly enough from the grin her blonde friend was growing. Loly growled stubbornly. "Come on, we've got to find Lord Aizen!"
O--O--O
Baraggan Louisenbairn's one remaining eye narrowed slowly, surveying the battle laid out before him with diamond-sharp intensity.
His aged visage had overseen many a war in his time as the king of Hueco Mundo; and according to rumor, even in his mortal life. The ancient Arrancar had pitted himself against Soul Reapers, other Hollows, and a multitude of other spiritual oddities in his time. But he had long since had a worthy opponent to face, either as a commander or as a combatant himself; with, of course, the one exception.
His countenance darkened at the thought, the old anger rearing its head. He forced it back down as always, reminding himself of at least one silver lining of this 'alliance'.
Baraggan's frown deepened as one of his forward units was eliminated. He raised one hand ponderously to strike back…
…and moved one of his ornate white rooks to tip over the offending black knight.
"Ah," Kaname Tousen murmured in slight surprise, "You have been building up to that, I see."
The Arrancar let out a noncommittal 'hmph', setting the ceramic piece he had taken on the side of the chess board to join its comrades.
With the continued wait for the war to begin, the Second Espada had been growing restless. In the past, when he was still the ruler of this dimension, this was the time he would have considered simply causing some sort of conflict out of sheer boredom. But, by some miracle, he had discovered a shared passion for tactics and strategy with the ex-captain of the Seireitei. One talk led to another, and he'd had one of his men search out the full chess set they had been using for weeks.
Without such a distraction, I may have been inclined to strike the first blow myself…
His eyes went back to the game as the dark-skinned Soul Reaper slid one of his black pawns up, threatening Baraggan's frontal formation. However, the move left his own backline open to a looming white castle. A flaw?
A ploy. I move the castle, and that in turn will lose me the queen, and possibly more. How clever.
He was considering his next play when a light knock came at the door. Tousen turned his dreadlocked head towards it as Findorr entered, an unusually amused half-smile on the visible lower half of his face as he bowed. "Your Majesty, I apologize for the interruption."
"Out with it."
"A guest has arrived for General Tousen."
He cocked one bushy eyebrow as the blond Arrancar stepped back outside, making way for a tall, lean, and orange-haired silhouette. The figure stepped in, eyes widening upon seeing him. "Oh, gramps. What are you doing here?"
Baraggan repressed the majority of his irritation. "Hmph. Even now, you have no respect for your elders, boy."
Ichigo – for the old Arrancar knew not to think of him by the old name – blinked innocently enough to make him realize the young man wasn't simply acting, letting a heavy sigh part his mustache. "What is it, then?"
"I was trying to find Aizen, and he wasn't where his, uh…"
"Aides, master." a soft voice offered from behind him, and Baraggan inspected the two matching women that had followed the young man in for a moment.
"Right, those," Ichigo continued, "They didn't know where he went, thought you might know." He finished the sentence by facing Tousen, looking at least moderately respectful.
The Soul Reaper frowned slightly. "I am not aware of any specific plans Lord Aizen had today, my apologies. May I ask what you were seeking?"
The Fifth Espada folded his arms, brow raising as he examined the game they were both seated at. "I was hoping for an update on the plan, wasn't sure how long we were waiting for."
Tousen leaned back in his seat. "Our orders are much the same as before, I am sorry to say. Although," the Shinigami said thoughtfully, "if I had to guess…"
"We will be deployed within the next week," Baraggan stated.
Tousen smiled and nodded at the Arrancar's gruff words. Noticing Ichigo's curious look, the man plucked a single pawn from his pile of taken pieces, rolling it dexterously between two thick fingers. "With every squad recalled to the Soul Society, attacking their main base would be a fool's errand. We have been waiting until they have relaxed their guard or they venture out once more. That is, of course, if the intention is to lower their fighting strength. They have been holed up for long enough and should be moving soon."
The last sentence was directed towards his chess opponent, who once again nodded silently.
Ichigo seemed to understand the concept well enough, but his smooth features creased into a frown. "But we're after this Soul King guy, right? Is he in the Seireitei?"
"No, he resides in a separate dimension far above the city itself," Tousen replied, once again examining the chess board.
"So how do we get up there?"
Baraggan hid any amusement at seeing the young Arrancar arrive at the heart of the matter so quickly, watching the Soul Reaper closely. He had been wondering the same for quite some time, and was no closer to finding an answer even after so many years.
To his irritation, the dark-skinned man shook his head slowly. "That is something you would need to ask Lord Aizen about personally."
Ichigo only looked disappointed for a moment before letting out a slow breath, nodding. He excused himself soon after, the two female Arrancar flanking him bowing respectfully and following. Baraggan's eye tracked the group until they turned out of sight, Findorr bowing as well and closing the door once again.
The two went back to their game silently, the soft clack of the stone pieces the only sound for a minute.
"He has keen instincts," Tousen finally murmured, surveying the board as the old Arrancar moved a piece. "And always seems to be in the right place at the right time. It's quite interesting to observe."
"The boy, you mean."
The Shinigami hummed in agreement. "It does make me wonder where will he find himself at the end of this, after all is said and done."
Baraggan squinted. There was an undercurrent of something in the words that he couldn't place, a sort of energy that was quite out of place from what he knew of the man.
He knows more than he lets on.
Pressing for details would be pointless, he knew the three Shinigami in Hueco Mundo kept their secrets close to the chest at all times. He eventually released a long breath, gaze drifting back to the board as he realized it was his turn.
Patience. The time will come to dispose of the ants infesting my world.
He reached out, lifting a piece and setting it back down with the sharp crack of stone.
"Check."
O--O--O
--The Seireitei, five days later--
"Heeeeeey, Rukia~!"
Rukia stopped at the cheerful call, turning from her path to see the lieutenant of Squad Ten leaning precariously out of a nearby window, waving at her with a cup in hand.
"Matsumoto," she replied, smiling as she approached. The smell of alcohol wafted from the window that the woman was hanging out of, and she could hear both raucous shouting and…
She cocked her head at the horrid noise she could hear. It had a beat.
Is…is that music?
She was quite literally yanked out of the thought as the blond woman lurched out and looped one arm around her neck, dragging her closer with a yelp.
"Coooome ooooon," she yelled, far too loud than was necessary, "you're always so formaaaaaal! It drives me crazy!" The last word was punctuated by her slamming her cup down on the windowsill, her beautiful features the picture of offended fury for a brief moment before they sagged back into drunken happiness. "Just call me Rangiku, okaaay?"
Rukia tried to speak, but she was finding it difficult to breathe; the lieutenant had a surprisingly strong arm keeping her face squished into the side of one prodigious breast.
"Mmmmph," she managed to offer.
"Good!"
She was then unceremoniously dragged through the window and plopped onto a large cushion, gasping. She raised her head after several large gulps of air, blinking owlishly at the chaos she found herself in.
Every lieutenant from the Court Guard Squads was shoved into a small tatami-floored room – laughing, talking, eating, and of course drinking. With, she saw, the understandable exception of Squad Eleven's Yachiru.
Sasakibe from the First Division was smiling and sipping at his own cup next to Kira from the Third and Akon from the Twelfth, the latter wincing slightly and rubbing his horned head at the racket coming from the corner next to them. Omaeda, Iba, Renji, and Hisagi were all shouting encouragingly at Ikkaku from the Eleventh, who seemed to be busy chugging from a massive ceramic jug with gusto – she hoped for the safety of the mans liver it wasn't sake. Next to them was a large 80's-style boombox from which the loud music was coming from, though she couldn't even place exactly what genre it was supposed to be. Punk, metal…jazz?
On the closer side of the room, Nanao from the Eighth sat quietly alongside Isane from the Fourth and Hinamori of the Fifth. Her heart fell slightly at seeing the dark bags still under the tiny womans eyes, even as Momo giggled at something Isane said while glancing over at the men.
She does appear to be recovering, at least…
She jumped at another shout, the rest of the lieutenants having noticed her. Ikkaku, worryingly red-faced at this point and with Iba barely holding him up by one shoulder, gestured wildly in her direction with his drinking hand. "Hey, you made it! That makes every lieutenant in the Seireitei! Except Yachiru. I will drink her share. For when she's not a brat, you see." He hiccupped loudly in the middle of his words, to resounding amusement. "BUT," the man roared determinedly, "What say we make a toast to Kuchiki here! For making it home in one piece, Aizen or these jumped-up Hollows be damned!"
The other men of the group, all properly smashed at this point, howled and raised their drinks towards her in salute even as Rangiku leaned over, surreptitiously slipping another ceramic cup into her hand. Head spinning from the noise, she simply nodded along, receiving a polite toast from the rest. Renji paused in his seat, face almost as red as his hair but still apparently sober enough to hesitate for a moment, meeting her eyes without a word. His expression tightened, and she could see that he was struggling to say something; Renji had never been the subtle type, she could read him as easily as a book even now. She stopped him with the barest shake of her head, but smiled slightly. Her old friend hesitated but still made out a single nod, receiving her message clearly enough even in his state.
Later.
She started again as Rangiku plopped down on a cushion next to her, cheering along with the last of the rowdier group before tossing back her own cup. They watched in amazement as Ikkaku swerved abruptly and tripped, landing atop several others as they all roared with laughter.
"Sooo, what do you think?" Rangiku asked, slurring rather badly at this point as she wiggled her eyebrows.
"It's impressive," Rukia admitted, grinning as the Eleventh lieutenant was launched out of another window by a drunk Kira, who he'd fallen on. "Did you arrange all this?"
The curvaceous woman hummed happily, leaning back. "I figured it'd be a nice change of pace, what with the nonstop training and all that. Besides, everything starts tomorrow, right?"
On receiving Rukia's report, the Captain-Commander had not discounted anything she had urged him to consider; if anything, his response had been above what anyone had expected. The deployment orders had finally come after the captains meeting a week ago, announcing that the defensive measures would be halted, and the troops of the Soul Society would be divided into groups, two squads each for a total of five platoons, captains included. The first, comprised of the Fourth and Fifth squads, would be held back in the Seireitei for medical attention and emergency reinforcements. The rest were to be deployed in swift order, taking the Senkaimon and performing random large-scale sweeps across the mortal world.
She vividly remembered the aged Shinigami's words upon seeing her surprise at the idea: "You have estimated the enemy to be strong, yes. But I will always prepare for the absolute worst, Lieutenant."
Rukia admitted that caution was certainly warranted – the only idea she truly had of the powers looming in Hueco Mundo was from seeing a meager three Arrancar in person. None of which had been openly hostile in the first place.
She sighed at the memory, realizing that the other lieutenant was tapping her cup and glowering. Awkwardly, she took a tiny sip…
Rukia blinked, looking to Rangiku in confusion. "This is tea."
The blond woman jiggled her head as if to say 'well duh', long locks of hair swaying with the movement.
"And I thought you were drunk."
Another jiggle, along with a distinctly sly grin. She then tilted her head around the room, Rukia following the gesture.
The men across the room had all grouped back together, laughing and telling outrageous stories; even the reserved Sasakibe was joining in at this point, though he wasn't drinking nearly as much as the rest. On their side, the female lieutenants had huddled closer, Momo and Isane blushing furiously and giggling as Nanao spoke softly, a worryingly devious smirk quite out of place on the woman, and the faint hints of what was being discussed had her ears warming.
Seeing all this, she turned back to Rangiku, who sported a startlingly calm smile compared to just a few moments before. She caught the appraising look and winked, offering a bottle of what was clearly sake this time. Rukia sighed, drained the rest of the tea, and allowed it to filled back up with the heady-smelling alcohol. Taking a sip and fighting back a grimace at the strong taste, she motioned to the group. "Shall we?"
"Thought you'd never ask," Rangiku replied cheerily.
The war could wait for one last night of merriment, she thought, before the story they had joined in on swept the darker thoughts away in a tidal wave of embarrassment and curiosity that only secret talks between women could truly achieve.
After all, this may be the last night we have.
O--O--O
--Hueco Mundo, Las Noches--
A sudden light flared in absolute darkness, radiating from a high ceiling and slowly growing brighter, illuminating the sole contents of the room: a long, black-topped table, smooth and rounded at the corners, lined by eleven identical and inordinately high-backed chairs in white. Shortly after the double doors at one end creaked open, admitting a tall, messy-haired silhouette.
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez stalked in, casting a quick look around and snorting softly when he realized he was the first to arrive. He eyed the arranged seating for a long moment before nudging a chair nearer to the head of the table out with one toe, falling into it roughly with his hands still shoved into his pockets.
The Arrancar spent the first few minutes idly staring up at the ceiling before his scowl deepened in irritation. He hated waiting.
And ain't that just the fucking problem.
All he had been doing for an unimaginable amount of time had been waiting. Waiting to evolve in the wastes for all those years; after that, waiting for purpose and power promised from Aizen. And even then, once he had finally grasped his true strength, more goddamned waiting. Soon, he was promised. Soon it would all begin.
He hoped, that with Aizen calling all the Espada together, the wait this time would be a hell of a lot shorter.
At a soft creak his gaze darted to the entrance, seeing the doors part once more, and a lone figure stepped in. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.
Kurosaki.
The Fifth Espada glanced around, spotting him a moment later, returning the aggressive look with a cocked eyebrow before he chose a seat at the opposite end of the table. They sat in silence for several minutes, Kurosaki shifting slightly and crossing his exposed arms, eyes closing in apparent calm.
"What's your deal, Kurosaki?"
Those bright yellow orbs snapped open at the annoyed tone, leveling in his direction. "What?"
Grimmjow kept his expression neutral. "You heard me. What's the deal with you now?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
He snorted, shifting his attention to the piece of bone resting atop the Arrancar's bright orange shock of hair. "What happened to the Vasto Lorde that I saw tearing an Arrancar to pieces with nothing but his claws? From what I hear, you got all pathetic after losing the mask."
Grimmjow felt a wave of satisfaction at seeing anger sweep across the other Espada's face, though it faded just as quickly as it had arrived.
"I was different back then," he replied stiffly.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Grimmjow sneered, his sarcastic tone visibly setting the other on edge, "Humanity turned you back into a bitch, is that it?"
Kurosaki froze in his seat, and his own pulse rose upon seeing the man's irises shine ominously.
"The last time someone talked to me like that," he said, voice dripping with venom, "I put a cero through their skull."
Grimmjow blinked in shock before a savage, toothy smile formed, a burst of laughter ripping its way out of his throat. "There it is," he grinned at the surprised look Kurosaki was giving him. "So you haven't lost your touch."
The orange-haired Arrancar's eyes dimmed, looking confused as he sat back. "What do you care?"
"I don't," Grimmjow drawled, kicking his feet up on the table. "Just making sure that you haven't gone soft."
"…Why?"
Kurosaki had visibly calmed, and was regarding him with some amount of curiosity. Grimmjow grunted, a little annoyed at the scrutiny. "Got bored, that's all."
They spent another few minutes in silence.
"Hey."
Grimmjow glanced over.
"If you're that bored, Harribel and I are still sparring outside the city."
"What, you think I wanna watch you two buddy it up?"
"I was thinking you could join in, actually."
"…Hah?"
Before he could say more the doors parted once again, the rest of the Espada filing in over the course of the next ten minutes. The unusual sight of Aaroniero was tempered somewhat by the addition of an elongated white mask covering the front of the tank the two heads resided in as he sat with overly delicate motions. Barragan was next, grouchily seizing one of the farthest chairs without a word, mustache bristling in annoyance. Ulquiorra came after, gliding in soundlessly and taking the seat directly across from Grimmjow. Surprisingly, Starrk slouched in before the rest, openly yawning and looking around the room blearily; he chose a spot next to Kurosaki, immediately closing his eyes and attempting to doze off within moments. The other side of the Fifth was also taken by his aforementioned training partner, the dark-skinned woman inclining her head in response to a casual 'hey' he greeted her with. Szayelaporro strolled in carelessly next, followed closely by Nelliel.
Grimmjow eyed the Seventh Espada with a touch of caution as she took the chair to his right; the elegant woman was one of the old guard, and even with her power reduced was still widely acknowledged as one of the finest fighters in Hueco Mundo. Anyone who could take a hit like she had and remain an Espada deserved respect. She noticed his scrutiny after a moment, raising one brow coolly in an unspoken question.
He hadn't realized he'd been staring.
Grimmjow finally gave her a terse nod in response that she returned politely, a small spark of surprise in her emerald eyes as she turned away.
The last to enter was Yammy, the huge Hollow stomping to the last open chair next to the Ninth Espada at the end of the table; the seat barely seemed to contain his bulk. Grimmjow felt the table shudder as he leaned one massive arm on it and proceeded to glare daggers at Kurosaki for some reason; to his amusement, the smaller Arrancar's expression turned darker than before, lip curling upwards into a distinct snarl.
Wonder what Yammy did to piss him off…
His sharp ears picked up different sound, and Grimmjow quickly took his feet off of the table just as another door at the opposite end if the room from the first slid open. All present stilled from the unmistakable sensation of power they felt.
Aizen stepped in, the same small smile as always on his features, and flanked by the other two ex-captains. All three were dressed much like the Arrancar, in flowing white cloth lined in black.
"My dear Espada," their leader said softly, voice as warm and smooth as silk. "Good morning."
He settled himself in the seat at the head of the table, slowly meeting each Arrancar's eyes in turn. They all waited patiently as several lower-ranking Arrancar hurried around the table, distributing cups of some steaming hot beverage, which Grimmjow studiously ignored. Once everyone was served, Aizen sat slightly straighter in his seat and began. "I am pleased to say that our plan has come to a head after so many years, and will finally begin tomorrow."
Many shifted in a mixture of surprise and anticipation.
"As many of you have surmised, and indeed hoped," Aizen continued, "the initial steps will be to strike at the head of the Seireitei, and at the Thirteen Court Guard Squads."
A shiver went through those assembled; they were all inherently opposed to the Soul Reapers, down to the last drop of blood, and the chance to finally take their due was intoxicating to most. Grimmjow felt his blood begin to heat, another feral grin creeping across his lips.
Their leader watched the varying reactions around the table calmly before proceeding any further. "Once the forces of the Shinigami are reduced enough, or simply eradicated, our true objective will become possible. That is, the creation of the King's Key. Or, as it is known in more classical circles, the Oken."
Many present looked curious or confused at this; only the Second Espada's lone eye widened ever so slightly, and one grizzled hand came up to cup his chin in thought.
"This key, once created, will open the passage to the palace of the Soul King, who resides in a sealed dimension far above the Seireitei itself," Aizen explained calmly, "Once there, I will take the throne from him and reshape this world. That, above all else, is our primary objective."
He makes it all sound so simple, Grimmjow thought, trying to reconcile the insane concept that had been presented with how straightforward the Soul Reaper made it seem.
"Excuse me, sir."
They all looked to Nelliel, who had straightened respectfully in her seat. Aizen gestured for her to proceed.
"You say we must reduce the fighting strength of the Seireitei first. That implies that whatever the method is to create this 'Oken', they will attempt to stop us at any cost," she reasoned. The Shinigami's cold smile widened the tiniest fraction.
"Very good, Nelliel. That is correct." Aizen leaned back in his seat. "The mere idea of anyone but the Royal Guard possessing the key is abhorrent enough for them to combat us in the first place, you see. The creation and the inherent cost, however, is another matter entirely."
He made a small motion to Tousen, who pulled on a lever set into the wall gently. With a heavy thud, a perfectly round circle in the middle of the table recessed, spinning outwards like the aperture of a camera and a glowing, hovering image of a sweeping expanse of suburbia was revealed above them.
Gazing up at it, Aizen rested the side of his head on the crooked fingers of one hand as he spoke. "The materials required for the creation of the Oken are as such: a plot of land that is heavily saturated with spiritual power unlike any other, and with a radius of one ri…and at least one hundred thousand human souls."
Most in the room hadn't batted an eye at the information, but Grimmjow spotted the Fifth Espada's fists clenching.
"There only one possible area for this event in each era," the Soul Reaper explained. "The current location is settled in Eastern Asia, and will remain so for at least several hundred years." His cold eyes drifted to Kurosaki as the image above descended.
The map became clearer to the eye, roads and a thin ribbon of blue cutting through the bustle of civilization becoming visible.
The orange-haired Arrancar's expression froze, locking away his emotions behind a careful mask.
Those yellow eyes, however, showed horrified recognition.