A/N: An elaborated snippet from my story serendipity. Also a reminder: if you want to subscribe to my C2 its on my profile of course and if you wanna be a staff just PM me or drop a review. Whichever.
Vindicated
'Dammit, where are you?!' Hiyori slashed through the Gillian and scoured the premises for her comrades. She damned Aizen to the fieriest pits of the Underrealm.
Finally, through the masks of white and the swarms of black and red she spotted green hair, dappled with more all-consuming vermillion. With a strangled cry of rage Hiyori cut through the hoard, killing, massacring, and trying to get to her injured friend.
"Mashiro!" She shrieked, straining her voice with the intensity of the pain she was feeling. Not only physically.
the sandy-haired girl kneeled beside the woman and shook her shoulders, begging her to respond. "Hiyori-chan."
Shinji stood a short ways away, trying tirelessly to keep their enemies at bay. "Hey, be good please."
"No, no, no." she sobbed, gripping the dead and brittle grass as hard as she could, "Not you too."
"You know what happens to us, I'll be reborn eventually. Besides." She let out a harsh cough, "Kensei's gone Hiyori, Hachi too, everyone… I knew," Mashiro choked on her own blood. "I knew I wouldn't stay much longer."
"How do you know what happens to us?" Hiyori demanded, "Our souls are black; we're freaks!" It wasn't right to say that to a dying woman but she couldn't help herself.
Mashiro cough up more blood and shook her head, Hiyori found that she couldn't look her in the eyes so instead she fixed her gaze on the trail of sanguine flowing down her cheek alongside her own tears that had splashed onto her face and mingled with Mashiro's. "You know you don't believe that." She hadn't said it condescendingly but it felt that way.
Mashiro was wise in her own naïve way. She should have listened to her…but she didn't.
Mashiro coughed again, gasping at her last breath then slumped back, her eyes unfocused and glassy, no longer warm honey but a dull brown.
"No, no, no! MASHIRO!" she repeated it many times as if saying it would make it false, "You can't leave me here alone with this idiot, please!" she sobbed into the woman's blood soaked chest.
Eventually her sobbing ceased and the world was silent, mourning. She suddenly felt a cold, long fingered hand grasp around her thin shoulder.
"Hiyori…" he trailed off, not knowing what to say. He too had lost a friend.
"Bastards, all of them," the girl whispered, "They took everything from us." She lifted herself off of Mashiro's corpse, only to notice that the hollows were gone, the battle was done. "Look around you; we're the only ones left! I hate them." she stopped yelling and whispered the last part.
"I know," he whispered too as he stared at his feet.
"I hate humans too."
"I know."
"I want them all to die."
"I know," he grit his teeth together making a grinding noise.
She looked up at her counterpart, probably the only person left in the world that understood her. "What do you want?" she finally asked.
Shinji looked up, surprised. She'd never asked him that. After a long pause he answered, "Freedom, a life, I want our friends back, I want all of this to be some awful dream and when I wake up it'll be Monday and I'll have paperwork to do, Aizen will still be my geeky little underling and…and you'll kick me in the shins like always."
"I can do that now if you'd like."
He ignored her and continued, "But what I want most in this moment is revenge."
"And how do you propose we do that?" she snapped.
"We win the war of course."
"Two against three worlds," Hiyori snorted, "That'll be interesting."