Editing/QC: Trolzylulzy
2020. Sheesh. It wasn't great in most ways, and definitely wasn't good for my writing habits. Things kept changing at work, other IRL delays, blah blah blah. TLDR, it sucked!
Anyways, no need to drone on about that since I'm just happy to be back at it. With how this chapter turned out in the last few weeks, fingers crossed I can keep going strong.
I hope you all have a happy holiday season, and I'll see you next time. With any luck, 2021 won't be as much of a friggin disaster. Right?
Chapter 20:
Fracción.
A simple word, with a much wider meaning. To be a fraction of the strength an Espada may wield, in whatever regards they may choose. Potential in battle, usefulness in mundane matters, the specifics had never mattered; the role itself had been in place for as long as any alive can remember, long before the rank of Espada had been implemented. Fracción were those that stood at the sides of kings and queens, warlords and empresses, and all such mighty since the dawn of time.
Always present. Always serving their masters. And never two the same.
O-O-O
Pesche Guatiche hummed to himself, watching his harried mistress bustle about their common rooms worriedly. Dondochakka watched from the other side of the room with equal amusement, for once wearing the simple white garments of the Arrancar; it was one of the few things that showed the man to be surprisingly trim for all his apparent bulk.
Nelliel was now muttering to herself.
"I have to check on the patrols-"
"Already taken care of," Pesche announced casually.
"Organize the-"
"Done dat," Dondochakka informed her.
They each received a suspicious look.
"…Check on Ichigo?"
"He should be awake by lunch."
She replied with a surprised 'oh', looking rather pleased to see her tasks for the day substantially reduced. "And when did you have time to do all that?"
Pesche resisted the urge to let his eyes drift to his large friend lest the gesture tipped her off, simply setting a charming smile on his face in reply. Nel dubiously inspected it for a brief moment before turning to Dondochakka – only to realize the full mask he still wore had even less clues to give her.
"I…will decline from prying any further, then."
"How magnanimous of you, my lady."
The amused snort she replied with ruined the solemnity of the moment, and with that the Espada strode off with the ghost of a grin still showing, Dondochakka following after dutifully – with his considerable efforts overnight, a day of attending their master should be liesurely enough to count as almost restful.
"Now then," Pesche mused, one pale hand running back through his hair. "What to attend to first?"
O-O-O
Intuition leading on, Pesche found his steps treading familiar paths. The sunlit center of Las Noches greeted him after a time, home to the vast expanse of warm sand and seemingly random clusters of mighty stone columns; a particularly nostalgic set came into view soon enough, and he realized with surprise that it was once again surrounded by a sizeable crowd.
A leap as he approached brought him up to alight easily on one of the outermost pillars. Various small groups of Arrancar stood scattered across his and the other towers surrounding the impromptu arena that Ichigo and Harribel had once appropriated for their sparring. With some amusement, Pesche noted that someone had taken the time to embed some rather nice iron railings around the edges to provide easier vantage points.
Stepping closer brought the sounds of fighting, the noises echoing out against the hard stone among the scattered cheering and shouting from the audience. Pesche let his pale eyes drift over those nearby out of curiosity as he moved towards the railing, noticing a quieter form off to one side. He smiled, heading over.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
His question was greeted only by a pair of mismatched eyes and an unfriendly scowl – not uncommon when dealing with Emilou Apacci.
Even with the annoyed expression she said nothing as he joined her in looking downwards; as expected, two unfamiliar Arrancar were brawling in the sands below, though no weapons were in hand and the only blood drawn seemed to be from a split lip one woman bore – though she seemed to be quite keen on returning that in kind.
"You seem surprised," Apacci said, and he caught one blue eye flicking away when he looked over.
Very perceptive for one who seems not to care. Knowing that mentioning so would only set her off, he decided to keep the thought to himself and simply nodded in reply. "I'd heard rumors this place was being used again, though to be honest I had expected something far less-"
With a resounding crack the female Arrancar spun a devastating kick into her opponent's face, and no matter how large the brute was he dropped like a sack of bricks. The woman spat out a mouthful of blood before screaming her victory to the sky, the crowd responding with equally savage roars of their own.
"Hm."
"Gonna say 'tame', were you?"
"Not quite the right word, I'll concede that," he replied smoothly – apparently not as well as he'd thought, as the corners of Apacci's mouth twitched upwards as she replied.
"I've been keeping an eye on the place for a while. I'll say one thing, it's still what you'd expect from this place. People still kicking the crap out of each other for fun," she said, turning to look down once more at a new pair entering the ring. Pesche glanced down as well to see the two taking positions, each nodding to the other before they made any moves.
How orderly. He hummed in interest. "And how long did it take before the all-too unintentional deaths stopped and the fights we see now became commonplace?"
There came a long pause before she spoke again, Apacci's brows coming to meet above an expression he found difficult to identify.
"…There weren't any."
"Pardon?"
She shook her head. "There haven't been any deaths here. These idiots started coming on their own a few days after Lady Harribel and Ichigo started training out in the wastes. Occasionally there's a brawl that gets close, but the crowd steps in if it goes too far."
Apacci glanced over, volumes going unspoken. He knew what she wanted to say regardless.
Things are changing in Las Noches.
There were a multitude of Arrancar, more than ever should exist at one time; a stark lack of direction had emerged, with far too many to be properly managed by the disorganized leadership of the Espada. Left to their own devices any grouping of Hollows was known to be notoriously volatile, and with the recent counts of Arrancar easily in the hundreds, deaths were only to be expected.
That there would be none at all was…jarring.
If only one walked the grand stone halls it was plain to see the unlikely peace in it's rawest form. Hollows that only months before would happily tear each other to shreds could be seen going about their daily routines without so much as a sharp glare or heated word. This gladiatorial arena was one of the only outward signs that these were still the bloodthirsty beings of old, but even that was radically well managed. If one took the time to listen to idle chatter, it was plainly obvious that those who willingly wanted to fight this war was dwindling with each passing day.
You've gone and civilized us monsters, Lord Aizen. I wonder, is qthis also one of your manipulations?
He accepted only one as his master, and she had no such godly aspirations. Pesche felt his brow narrowing tightly at the thought and took a moment to cool the surprising heat rising in his chest.
He realized with a start that Apacci was watching him again, and returned her measuring look with one of his own. Whatever humor he saw in her expression slid away shortly after.
"Shit," she grunted, "Pretty sure I know what you're thinking."
Pesche inspected her closer for a moment as she looked around at the surrounding Arrancar, glimpsing an assortment of very familiar emotions.
"Hmm. You may be right."
Apacci groaned. "And I'm supposed to be one of the worst at noticing crap like this."
He felt a smirk growing, taking care not to let it show - very much, at least. "Well, if you're just going to come out and say it…"
"Shut your hole."
He laughed in surprise, prompting a seemingly genuine smile and a small shake of her black locks before the woman strolled away, one hand raised his way. Pesche took that as the casual dismissal it was, considering for a moment where he should head next – just before the tiniest pulse of spiritual energy touched his mind.
Though his mood soured at what lay ahead, it was briefly lifted by the sound of Apacci bellowing her own challenge out to a raucously cheering crowd.
O-O-O
Unlike many Fracción, Pesche had always enjoyed the unique privelage of freedom in his work for Nelliel; he chose his tasks and those he interacted with to accomplish them, always with the expectation that they would be completed to satisfaction. In the past that had allowed him to easily avoid the less savory individuals of Hueco Mundo, those who stooped to violence at the slightest inconvenience, those that lacked basic decency or morality. Unfortunately, dealings with some of these could not be avoided, and as Pesche finally found the source of the faint energy he forced his distaste away. Hidden away in one of the more isolated chambers in the confusing warren of halls and seemingly pointless rooms that comprised the majority of the outer ring of Las Noches he once again laid eyes on one of his least favorite contacts.
Anyone laying eyes upon this particular Arrancar would be hard pressed to recall anything of interest; standard uniform, scraggly and seemingly unwashed brown hair hanging in curtains to frame a face that was neither pleasant to view nor distinctly ugly in any fashion. Even the small shard of bone hanging above his brow was indestinct in design. Overall, he was very forgettable.
But that was also why he was an ideal informant.
"Victor," Pesche greeted, pasting a bland smile on his face.
The other man rose from his seat and into the light, nodding curtly. "Guatiche," he replied, a touch of disdain in the gutteral tone that had Pesche's hand itching for his sword.
He managed to force away the instinct, instead only smiling slightly wider. "Now now, there's no need for that. It's been so long, is that how you treat your acquaintances?"
That seemed to set Victor back on his heels some, and he coughed into one hand awkwardly. "…My apologies."
"Water under the bridge, of course," Pesche said, fake warmth all but oozing off of the words. "Now then, you wouldn't have called me here without something good, I hope?"
Victor had found new tasks once Aizen had returned: to assist their leader in his continued experiments in creating more Arrancar. Other than a hidden note some months ago informing Pesche of that exact thing, he hadn't even heard from the man in nearly a year. The risks involved meant that the only reason he would chance a meeting was for something too important to leave alone.
To his surprise, however, mentioning even that seemed to set the other man on edge.
"I-I'm not sure," Victor mumbled, furtive eyes darting around nervously. He'd never appeared this way before.
The smile slipping from his face, Pesche instead adopted a disappointed frown. "Now Victor, I thought we agreed never to meet unless it was absolutely necessary."
"It is!" the man hissed, clearly agitated.
"Then there's no need to panic, hmm?"
"You don't understand!"
"I'm here, Victor. Explain."
At last this stopped the clear hysteria growing in his dark eyes, and he began to speak in hushed tones.
"I, as you know, am one of the few that Lord Aizen allowed to assist in his experiments with the Hogyoku, but also to…dispose of the failed tests."
Pesche saw him swallow in disgust, nose wrinkling as if recalling a particularly foul scent.
"In the first months everything was as expected; every day the tests would produce strong Arrancar from various Adjucha, even from some Gillian. Lord Aizen seemed satisfied with this for a time, he even made far more than was planned. After that he began to not simply raise Hollows to that level, but to alter them in ways. He sought more specific abilities in the subjects we brought to him, looking to empower or change them. He even succeeded in ways, like with Wonderweiss…"
Victor looked as if he might continue with that thought, but shook it away impatiently.
"He…he made dozens in this way. Far more than we had anticipated, and this was when more of the failures began to crop up. L-Lord Aizen grew visibly frustrated."
The man had begun to shiver, bony fingers curled into fists as his arms folded together as if for warmth.
"We assistants were eventually barred from the room when the tests were ongoing, only allowed in to c-cleanse the room at the end of the day, and at this point there were no more successes. Gods, the things we saw…cursed things, still alive in some horrible way...we agreed to provide mercy to these abominations when we could and grant them release..."
Pesche felt a cold chill settle into his spine. He'd known Victor longer than he might have wished at times, and 'merciful' would never have been the word he chose to describe the man. To even imagine what could have forced him that far was not something he wanted to linger on. But even this wouldn't have been enough to warrant a meeting, so he gestured for the man to continue.
Horror lingering in his eyes, he only spoke after another long pause; when he did, it was with genuine fear tainting the words.
"Finally, Lord A-Aizen summoned us one last time. Not to bring more test subjects, as he would have any other day, but to speak with us individually. He…" At this point he had to take a moment wet his lips nervously; they were so dry he was having difficulty speaking.
"We had not actually seen him for a month, but he…he had changed. Physically he was the same, but he seemed somehow colder. No greeting, no other words, he just asked me one thing." He shuddered uncomfortably. "Do you know what he asked?" he eventually forced out. Pesche shook his head mutely, which prompted a nervous laugh before he spoke: "What is wrong with my experiments?"
Pesche frowned. It certainly didn't seem like the kind of thing Aizen would ask of his followers. Before he could think on it Victor was rambling once more.
"You have to understand what was happening, Guatiche: I was the last one he summoned. The others…I haven't seen them since they were called. I thought he was about to kill me, so I-I blurted out the first thing that came to mind! I said…that 'every Hollow is different'."
"But that's obvious," Pesche said, confused.
"That's what I thought too," Victor whispered. "But Lord Aizen, he looked at me as if it wasn't. He turned away, and I could barely hear what he said. I…I don't think I was supposed to."
A wave of foreboding washed over Pesche and he leapt up, grabbing the other man's collar and slamming him into the wall. "What was it?" he hissed.
"He said...'t-the material is the problem'."
It took Pesche a long moment to even fathom what that might mean, when with a horrible dawning sensation he remembered.
Hollows were not the first Aizen had experimented on.
He forcefully smoothed any visible emotions away, releasing Victor and even taking a moment to straighten the man's jacket politely. "Was there anything else?"
The other Arrancar eyed him in surprise, the clear lack of understanding of what he had just revealed apparent. "Ah. Well…yes. Lord Aizen left shortly afterwards…I don't believe he's been seen since."
"And the Hogyoku?" Pesche pressed, holding back his impatience.
Some must have still shown, as Victor hurriedly replied that it had been missing since the same time.
Of course it has, he thought bitterly. Outwardly, however, he only let out a weary sigh and a faint smile. "Victor, you've done well to call me. Go now, and keep this quiet."
The man blinked at him. "…That's all?"
"That's all."
He opened his mouth several times as if to say something more, but settled into a perplexed frown and turned to the door. The man hadn't even taken a full step when Pesche's blade ignited silently, leaving a streak of vivid blue in the air as with a calm swing it passed through his neck. Not a drop of blood was spilled, no wounds appeared, but a heartbeat later Victor collapsed like a doll with its strings cut.
Quite naturally, as only his spinal cord had been severed.
O-O-O
After the body had been disposed of, Pesche found himself wandering the halls rather more aimlessly than normal. Whatever intentions he'd had for the day seemed…pointless, in light of what he now knew. What only he knew, until he returned to his master.
What do I even tell her? That we've most likely been abandoned? Our plans are in shambles, and we were nowhere near prepared to act in the first place.
One hand pinched at the bridge of his nose wearily. "We simply aren't ready," he murmured to himself.
"Sorry?"
Pesche started in surprise, realizing that he had wandered closer to one of the main halls where two familiar faces were looking at him oddly.
He forced a neutral expression onto his face. "Ah, apologies. I was lost in thought."
Ichigo's twin Fracción traded doubtful looks at the words, the red-haired one shrugging after a moment. His mind was so muddled at this point it took him a moment to remember their names.
"Miss Yin and miss Yang, yes?" he finally managed. They nodded, returning the greeting politely.
Pesche frowned after a moment of awkward silence: it wasn't just his own stiffness, it was theirs as well. Even as little as he had interacted with the pair that was obvious to see.
That wouldn't do.
He tried a smile. Still felt wrong, came out as a strained grimace. "Well, you two clearly sought me out. How can I help?"
Yang shuffled her feet awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. That alone gave him an idea.
"Is it Ichigo?" he asked softly, but they flinched in surprise all the same. He sighed, keeping quiet as they spoke to each other in hurried whispers. They obviously didn't trust him at all, better to give them a moment.
Silently he gestured for them to follow into yet another unused room off to the side, and he sat down heavily.
Another few minutes passed before they spoke, and when they did it wasn't what he had expected.
"He…Ichigo won't talk to us," Yin said, her tone tense.
He raised a brow. "At all?"
"He starts to. But, um." She paused awkwardly.
"But he never manages to," Yang continued, sounding annoyed. "He just gets this weird look and walks away every time."
Yin nodded, forcing her own expression straight with some difficulty. "It's like he doesn't want us around, no matter what we do." Her sisters face tightened, and Pesche felt the room grow warmer.
To his immense shock a laugh nearly slipped out.
"And that's what you think?" Pesche tried to keep his sudden humor hidden, but it seemed to have shown as their hackles rose.
"Is something about that funny?!" Yang growled.
A smile slowly grew, this one coming out as genuine. "I'm just reminiscing," he mused. "It's like looking into a mirror with the two of you."
That got their full attention.
Pesche leaned back in the chair, gathering his thoughts. It was nearly therapeutic, thinking of the old days.
"We Fracción have an…unusual position, for what it is. To stand alongside those few that are stronger than we. We certainly cannot be their guards with such a power gap, nor can we truly fight alongside them. We can only assist. A fortunate few are kept close not for usefulness but personal ties instead, but therein lies the problem."
He released a long breath. "There was a time, long ago, when Dondochakka and I faced a similar trial. We and our master have been bound together for dozens of years, by bonds more precious than necessity." His smile turned wistful from nostalgia. "However, Nelliel had grown in strength so quickly that we were left far behind. It wouldn't be a problem in most cases, but the fact that she caught the attention of powerful enemies was. At that point we were barely a concern for the least of these foes, and so had become…a liability."
Pesche saw the spark of realization appear, cobalt and scarlet orbs both turning away with shame.
"Although," he went on, "I believe your situation is somewhat different. And not exactly for the better."
It took a minute before they realized what he was implying.
"He doesn't think we're safe around him either," Yin murmured.
"He's an idiot," Yang scoffed, but it was obvious she was blustering.
"But is he wrong?"
They couldn't answer.
Pesche eventually took pity on them and spoke once more. "And now that you know?"
All he got for the effort was identical confused looks.
"Now that you know, what are you going to do?" He asked again, his tone leading.
He swore when they still didn't reply. "It's simple. You prove to him that you two are strong enough that dumbass Ichigo doesn't have to worry."
Yang ducked her head to hide a small grin at the words, but her response was unusually subdued. "Getting stronger isn't as easy as Ichigo makes it look, you know."
"Oh? I thought you and he were actually very similar. During the last battle, why didn't you release your swords? Either of you? In fact, I don't believe there's anyone who has ever seen you do so."
They were both avoiding looking his way now, which was really all the answer he needed. He sat back and crossed his arms in satisfaction.
"It isn't that we can't release them," Yin eventually admitted. "It's that we can't truly control those forms."
Yang nodded. "We're just fine, but anything nearby…"
Anyone who paid attention knew these two were a rather unique pair in Hueco Mundo; elemental manipulation was something fairly common among Soul Reapers, but in Hollows? Very much the opposite, and never had he heard of something like this. An Arrancar's released form was as natural to them as breathing, for there to be something uncontrollable…
Curiosity roused, Pesche made his decision.
"Last question then. You both want to stay with Ichigo, right? Through whatever happens next?"
Surprised, the two women traded a long look before nodding in unison.
"Excellent. Let's go."
Pesche then promptly jumped out of his seat, setting a brisk pace out of Las Noches and ignoring most of the redheads insistent and annoyed questions about where they were going. He finally brought them to a halt when the palace was far behind and entirely out of sight behind a large dune.
"And now you see why I couldn't tell you where we were going," he said brightly.
"…Because this isn't different than any other patch of desert?"
"Precisely."
Several colorful phrases were uttered and much sand was flung about until Yin calmed her sister down. Pesche himself had patiently reclined on the side of another dune.
"So. What is all this about?" Yin asked, her own patience seemingly growing thin.
He raised one eyebrow jauntily. "Is that not obvious? I want you two to enter your released states."
"...Here?"
"Where better to train control than the place where there simply isn't anything to damage?"
To his growing amusement, they once again traded identical looks. Yang blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes, pointing his way. "There's still you."
He laughed, something in the noise sounding much older than he appeared. "Child, I am the very last thing you need to worry about."
O-O-O
The following morning Nelliel found him walking back into her tower jauntily, brushing soot and frayed threads off of one sleeve. She sipped at a steaming cup and eyed his ruined outfit rather wryly. "I see you've been busy."
"I have had," Pesche replied with a brilliant smile, "a productive day."