So, here's chapter three. A little more focus on Ichigo and his gang for this one.

Chapter III: The Horsemen.

Long fingers curled across the red orb, then flicked it over the sands of Hueco Mundo. The Vasto Lorde was only a shade taller than the shinigami, white-armoured with a pair of glowing eyes peering out from its ornate helmet. The red orb sank into its hole, pipes working their way out over the armour and burrowing inwards.

"Your name will be Donatello of War, last of the horsemen," the shinigami said, his hand retreating beneath his ragged cloak. "As a reward for your admirable work."

"The mission was a success, then?"

"It has been confirmed: We can access the Court of Pure Souls undetected at any time we wish," the shinigami said. "The shinigami are in disarray. You have done well, Donatello. I have another assignment for you – meet with Michelangelo of Pestilence and Leonardo of Famine and prepare for an assault."

"My lord?" Donatello asked.

"We are to seize the Kurosaki boy, dead or alive."

Ichigo felt it before he heard it, the tear of space and the rush of spiritual energy through the void. The world fragmented around him, flickering as if beset by static. His eyes snapped open, the dream (it had involved Rukia, watermelons, Orihime, a gigantic stuffed dolphin, and death) fading away.

He was out of his body before Kon could wake up, leaping out the window with one hand going for his sword. Across Karakura Town, he could sense Orihime, Chad and Ishida moving towards the disturbance. He looked up, eyes going wide.

Above the city, a garganta opened like a great mouth, smiling and gaping open to an expanse of darkness. The spiritual pressure grew suddenly stronger, bearing down on Ichigo as three white-armoured figures appeared, red lights glowing on their chest.

They stepped forward, the air shuddering with every movement, floating down to the road. One, a tall, heavy-set Vasto Lorde in jagged, spiky white-armour, bull-like horns protruding from his helmet as black dreadlocks flowed down his back, rose to his feet first, red eyes glowing beneath a visor.

The Vasto Lorde bowed to him, exaggeratedly low. "Substitute Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Donatello of War."

Ichigo paused, squinting. "Like ... the turtle?"

Donatello paused. Ichigo could practically hear him blinking. "Excuse me?"

"The turtle," Ichigo said, a little nonplussed. "With the bandana."

"Like the artist," Donatello said. "These are my companions, Leonardo of Famine," he gestured to the Vasto Lorde on his right, a slender male wings of white bone and a bird-like head, "and Michelangelo of Pestilence," he gestured to the Vasto Lorde on his left, a tall woman, her limbs strangely elongated, her head shaped into a spiked crown.

Ichigo scratched the back of his neck, closing one eye. "To be honest, I don't care about your names. You're not wanted here."

One of Donatello's eyes glowed a little brighter. "How awfully rude of you."

"Sorry, I guess I'm not a very polite guy," Ichigo shrugged. "But I don't know you from any other hollow, and I don't trust you."

Donatello bowed his head slightly, a creak of porcelain and bone resounding. "In truth, Mister Kurosaki, we don't have any interest in this town. We're here for you. If you'd like to come with us, this can be all be resolved amicably."

Ichigo scowled, pulling his sword from his back, the cloth wrappings tumbling about the air. "No thanks. It might be selfish, but I'd rather stay right where I am."

Donatello's eyes flashed. "A shame."

"We were ordered to take him dead or alive," Leonardo pointed out. "Let's get on with it, Donatello."

"Quite," Donatello said, holding up a finger. A ball of pale green light appeared at the end. Next to him, Michelangelo summoned a ball of violet light in front of her face, and Leonardo charged up a ball of blue light in front of his hand. "Cero."

The beams spiralled through the air, fusing together, the colours merging and flashing as it grew in size and brightness, tearing up the ground.

Ichigo readied his sword. "Getsuga - ..."

"Santen Kesshun," three amber shapes arced around him. "I reject." A triangular shield formed, the cero crashing against it harmlessly, rippling off to either side.

"Kurosaki!" Ishida called, as he, Orihime and Chad ran towards him. The amber shapes arced back to Orihime, flickering into her hairpieces. "You should've waited for us."

Ichigo hid a smirk. "I didn't think you'd want to help me, Ishida."

Ishida snorted. "I don't. The shaking from the garganta ruined my embroidery. I'm here for revenge."

Orihime giggled quietly. Ishida coughed, adjusting his glasses, his bow appearing in his hand. Chad made a low, amused noise in the back of his throat.

"Friends. Inconvenient," Donatello remarked. "Greetings, Ishida Uryu, last of the Quincy; Yasutora Sado; Inoue Orihime. I am Donatello of War."

"Like the turtle?" Orihime asked thoughtfully. "The smart one?"

Donatello twitched slightly. "Like the artist."

"Oh!" Orihime smiled, waving a hand. "Okay. Sorry. The turtle would've made more sense – you're both armoured! And masked! But," she sombered slightly, "we can't allow you to take Kurosaki away."

Donatello twitched again, a barely perceptible shudder of his fingers. "Leonardo, Michelangelo – deal with them."

The two Vasto Lorde lunged, blurring through the air.

Ishida landed on his feet, backflipping through the air, his bow expanding from his pentacle as Leonardo floated down opposite him, white porcelain wings flared out behind him, eyes glowing yellow beneath his mask. He drew a hand back, letting loose with a volley of arrows.

Porcelain brushed his shoulder as Leonardo flickered out of sight. Eyes widening, he realised Leonardo was behind him. He pushed off the ground, blurring to the rooftop of a nearby house, fingers snapping as he fired off a dozen arrows.

Leonardo snorted, appearing in front of Ishida, one talon flashing forward. Ishida flicked a Seele Schneider off his belt, the blade hissing out to materialise between two talons, holding it back.

"Your first mistake," Leonardo said wryly, "was assuming you could hit me with those arrows of yours."

Ishida flicked a hand , focusing. "Your first mistake," he replied, "was assuming I hadn't planned for that." Behind Leonardo, the arrows curved around, crashing into his back with explosions of blue light.

As the smoke cleared, Leonardo stood unharmed, his talon edging towards Ishida's face. "Your second mistake," he said, "was thinking you could hurt me with those arrows."

"Your second mistake," Ishida replied, placing his Seele Schneider into his bow. The tip of the sword flickered into an arrowhead, "was getting distracted."

The arrow blasted upwards, tearing through the visor of Leonardo's mask and through one of his eyes, emerging from the back of his head with a spray of bone, porcelain and blood. Ishida focused, turning it in the air so that it arced about and drove into Leonardo's back.

"Maybe it would have been better if you were a turtle," Ishida said darkly, adjusting his glasses. After a small pause: "Forget I said that."

Leonardo gasped, blood flying from his mask in a heavy spurt. "Your ... third mistake," he gasped out, "was thinking I wouldn't be able to regenerate." With a red glow, his mask reformed, the droplets of blood slowing to a stop in mid-air and floating back towards him. "Of all the Horsemen, my regenerative abilities are only rivalled by that of Verocchio of Death."

With a flash, his talon came down, tearing through Ishida's shirt, leaving bloody trails in its wake. Ishida hissed with pain, speeding away to land on another rooftop. As he felt his feet hit tiles, he heard a scraping behind him as Leonardo appeared, eyes bright, his talons ripping down Ishida's back.

Ishida pulled a silver tube from his pocket, tossing it over his shoulder. "A silver rod strikes the five-fingered stone bed – Gritz!" A pentacle expanded, materialising into a white shell around Leonardo. Ishida rebounded off it, soaring into the air. "Your third mistake was thinking that arrows were my only abilities."

He strung another Seele Schneider into his bow, charging the arrowhead and firing downwards. The arrow crashed through the shell, impaling Leonardo through the top of the head, emerging from the base of his back. Ishida drew his hand back, charging energy. "Licht Regen."

The arrows were small, but many, raining down upon Leonardo by the hundreds, each one exploding in a flash of blue until the Vasto Lorde was hidden by smoke, dust and light.

There was a rush of air behind Ishida. "Your fourth mistake," Leonardo said into his ear, "was letting me out of your sight."

Ishida spun, arrow glowing in his bow as Leonardo leapt backwards. "Your fourth mistake was thinking I wasn't expecting that." He let loose. The arrow hummed through the air, flickering purple and then fizzling out as it reached Leonardo's face.

Leonardo tilted his head.

Ishida's eyes widened, his breath suddenly coming sharp as he raised his bow again. Its blue glow suddenly turned purple, the structure drooping like liquid and then fizzling away.

"Your fifth mistake," Leonardo said smugly. "Was forgetting that I am Leonardo of Pestilence. With every slash of my talons, I injected larval parasites into your body. They're growing now, feeding off your spiritual energy and draining it from you. When they're large enough, they'll feed off your flesh, and when you die, they'll lay their eggs in your body."

"Bastard," Ishida said as a wave of nausea washed over him, roiling up from his gut and past his eyes, followed by a wave of pain.

"I hear that a lot," Leonardo admitted.

"El Directo!"

"Koten Zansshun, I reject."

The bolts of orange and blue spiralled around each other, crashing against Michelangelo's carapace. She turned, her armour glowing bright, a wave of golden light spreading out from it. Orihime manifested her shield, crouching behind it as Chad raised his shield over his body.

Michelangelo took a long breath, throwing back her head and raising two fingers. The bolts of light came thick and fast, exploding in flashes of fire against the pair's shields.

"Are you going to hide behind your shields forever, darlings? Come now, let's dance, dears," she said, tossing her hair about.

With a whoop, she flipped onto her hands, legs splayed out as she spun towards them, encased in a whirl of flame. Chad was in her path before she could reach Orihime, her feet slamming into his shield. He raised his left arm, the tips of his fingers glowing.

"La Muerte."

One of Michelangelo's feet swung towards him, glowing brightly. "La Incendio."

Orihime raised her arms defensively as the explosion spread out, flickering into the shape of a skull before spreading outwards, flames licking at buildings and scorching grass. When the smoke cleared, Chad was crouched, his shield raised, as Michelangelo backed off, one foot smoking.

"I could grow to like you," she remarked as a crack spred across her foot.

Orihime stepped forward, hands going to her hairpins. "Koten Zansshun, I reject."

A bolt of orange shot out of her hairpins, burning a trail through the air as it spiralled into the crack in Michelangelo's foot. With an explosion of light, the armour shattered, revealing fur and scorched flesh beneath, oozing black goo.

As Michelangelo looked down, hissing in pain, Chad lunged, fist raised.

"La Muerte."

Orihime had to shield her eyes from the explosion, a vast blue skull rising up, its mouth opening wide in a demonic chuckle before it vanished into smoke and dust. As the dust cleared, she saw Chad's shape drop to his knees.

Michelangelo set her damaged foot on his back, pressing him into the ground. "Oh, you two are just peaches! Damaging my foot like that. I'm impressed."

Orihime narrowed her eyes a little. Levelly: "Could you take your foot off my friend?"

"It's so cute," Michelangelo said, tossing her hair again, her eyes glowing bright pink through her mask, "that you even think I would, little honeybee."

Orihime fixed her with a long gaze. "Take your foot off him."

"Make me, darling."

Orihime raised a hand to her hairpins, talking quietly to herself. "Rokuten Zanshun, I reject." All six fairies flung themselves from her hairpins, jets of gold light swirling through the air, leaving orange dust behind them as they swooped and spun.

Tsubaki emerged in the lead, roaring, his aura glowing burningly bright. The other five spun around him, whirling into him, fusing with him until there was just a single lance of light trailing fire in its wake. It drove through Michelangelo's chest, porcelain shattering from either end.

Michelangelo threw her head back with a scream, eyes widening with a flash as Orihime sprinted at her, one hand chopping down at her shoulder, porcelain cracking beneath her hand. As Michelangelo turned her head slowly, Orihime spun, a kick landing against the Vasto Lorde's side.

"I only have a human's strength," Orihime admitted, "but one thing I've learnt is that if you weaken a Hollow enough in one spot, their whole body becomes weaker for it. It's the downside to using spiritual energy to enhance your durability."

"Beautiful and talented," Michelangelo purred as cracks spread along her side. "I've really hit the jackpot, darling. La Incendio."

"Shiten Kesshun, I reject!" Four fairies rushed back towards her, forming a pyramid shape against her. The blast of flame rippled across the shield, sinking into it and then exploding outwards against Michelangelo, sending her flying backwards. "Rokuten Zenshun, I reject."

"La Incendio," Michelangelo flung out both hands.

"Bankai!"

Ichigo emerged from the smoke, sword colliding with Donatello's arm. Donatello's mask edged close to Ichigo's, his eyes glowing a little brighter beneath his visor.

"Can you not enter a single battle without using that Bankai of yours, Mister Kurosaki?" Donatello asked, sparks flying off his arm as Ichigo scraped his sword across it. "Let's not beat around the bush. Show me that ability of yours."

"Should I ask which one you mean?" Ichigo asked, scowling.

"You should hardly have to, I think."

Ichigo raised a hand, dragging it down over his face. A Hollow mask appeared with a flash of black, his eyes turning yellow. "Getsuga," he growled, black energy gathering around his sword, "tensho!"

A wave of black burst from the tip of his sword, blasting across Donatello's chest, roaring past him and up to split open the clouds, a plume of darkness burning through a nearby telephone pole. Snorting, Donatello grabbed the sword and tugged it from his chest, blood oozing from the crack in his armour.

"Nicely done, Mister Kurosaki." One hand snapped out faster than Ichigo could see, fingers digging into his mask. "My comrades have many interesting special abilities which are no doubt serving them well. I am, alas, not especially intelligent. I traded any and all special abilities for speed, strength and durability. It's served me well."

He paused, pulling. The mask cracked, inching off Ichigo's face. "Unfortunately, Mister Kurosaki, it means your parlour tricks do not impress me." With a wrench, he pulled the mask off, tossing it behind him. With another wrench, he pulled Ichigo's sword from his hand.

Ichigo drew in a long breath as he felt a foot hit his gut, sending him flying back into a rooftop. Donatello landed next to him, throwing the sword over his shoulder. "You neither interest me nor amuse me as much as you do my masters, Mister Kurosaki. I am not Kuchiki Byakuya, I will not entertain your antics, young man."

Ichigo scowled, flickering away to another rooftop. Donatello was behind him when he arrived.

"I told you, didn't I? I traded my special abilities for speed, amongst other things," Donatello said. "I am very fast, Mister Kurosaki."

A hand landed against Ichigo's back, driving him down into the rooftop of the building. He crashed through the tiles and wood, tumbling down into a child's bedroom and then through the floor again, crashing into a dinner table to crater the floor.

He felt Donatello's hand closing around the back of his head, lifting him off the ground. "Did you ever think to learn the Demon Arts, Mister Kurosaki? When disarmed, they are the only weapon a shinigami has. You've been spoilt by your enemies so far. They have been light on you on account of your youth."

With a heave of his arm, he threw Ichigo threw a wall, watching as he bounced along the street. As Ichigo rolled to a stop, he felt the back of his head land on Donatello's foot.

"Bring back national service," Donatello said lamentingly. "That's what I say."

Ichigo vanished, rushing through the air towards his sword. As he neared it, his arm straining as he reached towards it, Donatello appeared, hand closing around the sword.

"By all means, Mister Kurosaki," he said softly, picking it up. "Take it back." He threw it over his shoulder again. "If you can reach it, of course."

Ichigo rushed past him, reaching for the sword. He ground to a sudden stop as a hand closed around his leg. With a snort, Donatello wrenched him back, throwing him down at the ground. With a rush of air, he was straddling Ichigo, one hand pinning his arms.

"Enough of this farce, I think," he said, raising a bony fingertip. A ball of blue light formed on it, growing larger. "This shall be quick, painless and effective. My preference as well as yours, Mister Kurosaki."

Ichigo drew in a gasping breath, struggling beneath him uselessly.

"Howl, Zabimaru!"

A blade flashed across Ichigo's vision, catching against Donatello's shoulder. He leapt backwards, cero still forming on his fingertip.

"Next Dance," another voice said, "white ripple."

A wave of white washed over Donatello, solidifying into ice. He remained still within the ice, one hand raised.

Ichigo's sword landed on his chest.

"Idiot," Rukia said, leaning into view. "Why'd you throw your sword away?"

"I didn't throw it!" Ichigo protested. "He took it from me!"

"You gave him your sword?" Rukia asked incredulously.

"I didn't give it to him! You're deliberately misunderstanding me!"

"Hey," Renji said sharply, pointing at the ice as a crack appeared. "We can tell Ichigo off for giving a Hollow his sword later."

"I didn't give it to him!"

"Right," Rukia said, raising her sword. "Remind me to tell him that I don't want Zangetsu for Christmas."

"I never gave it to him!"

"Or birthdays," Renji added. "If he'll give it to a Hollow, he'll give it to anyone."

"I hate you both so much!" Ichigo paused, sombering. "Are Inoue, Ishida and Chad okay?"

"We have people helping them," Rukia said, a little hesitantly. After a pause: "Hey, maybe you should've given them your sword instead."

"Why are you a bad person?"

A wave of sparks crackled across Leonardo's armour as he lunged for Ishida, sending him tumbling back. A white haori flickered into view, draped around a dark-haired, lanky shinigami with a bowl of sake in his hand.

"Your nineteenth mistake, Turtle-boy," Eiji said softly, sipping his sake, "was not expecting the cavalry. Your forty-second mistake was not expecting the cavalry to be this damn handsome."

Michelangelo's foot stopped in mid-air, clanging against a sword. A blond, spiky woman smiled up at her from in front of Orihime.

"The name's Shuki," Shuki said. "Captain Higa Shuki."

"Michelangelo of Famine," Michelangelo replied.

Shuki snorted, pushing the foot away. "My name's better."

Okay, next chapter will be up next week. If you have something you want to say, then by all means review. Thanks for reading.