Nameless

A dim moonlight shone upon a vast, never-ending, and empty world.

Below the abyss-like sky lay a desert. It was a canvass of bone-colored sand and rocks that seemed to extend far, far away. Deep into the horizon, where the white dunes met the pitch-black rim of heaven, desolation dwelled as a certain fact. Death and only death could be found in miles upon miles of arid wasteland. Coldness permeated every part of the dry sea and every mound of bleached powder.

The only thing worth mentioning was the moon, a blank luminous point amidst a murky ocean. It added some sliver of personality to the rather lifeless place. However, even the moon seemed somewhat unsettling. Its shine was dull and at moments appeared to waver. The longer one stared at it, the uglier and more deformed the image became.

One with a bit of imagination would liken it to a reflection on troubled waters. The truth was not so farfetched.

Such was the place called Hueco Mundo.

This was a pitiful little realm, a breach in time and space which didn't have any reason to exist. Albeit devoid of purpose, it still existed, like a self-sustaining organism. It eternally mingled in the fine boundary between life and death. It should have been dead by now, yet it was not.

The immeasurable desert was riddled with the most inane things a human mind could conceive. No human could reasonably live far too long in this place without going insane. It wasn't a shocking surprise, then, to learn that Hueco Mundo had a different type of inhabitants settled far and wide across its barren lands.

Finding one of Hueco Mundo's citizens was a frustrating task. Nothing of interest could be discovered most of the time. Bumping into a resident of the desert world was fortuitous in some occasions, or annoyingly recurrent in others. Searching for a particular soul was a fool's errand that could go on for months. None had much patience for such a task, so faces were frequently forgotten and relationships disappeared as quickly as they were formed.

These denizens of the sand were known as hollows. The name itself was pejorative in nature, a word borne in bygone ages. Its origins were particularly obscure. But most would agree it was a synonym of plague and disaster, passed from mouth to mouth till it became a racial determination and not a mere insulting slur.

Hollows themselves did not care about this, nevertheless, and clung to their name with a vague sense of pride. For them, at least it was something. For those who had nothing, something was everything. It was their unique little title. They held onto it, despite not being lucid enough to ponder about its implications or even feel a bit happy of having a name at all.

One hollow could be seen sauntering in the middle of the desert.

Seen from up-close, no one would say it was anything remotely human. It was a tall, towering hunk of a beast. From its shape, the hollow seemed to be a male. His red-skinned body was made up of prominent yet misshapen muscles. Arms long enough to reach his shins sprung from his torso. They ended in clawed hands. Sharp protrusions like bones emerged from the elbows and knees. These same bony structures were on his back, creating a hard layer over his spine.

The most appalling characteristic of this creature was his face, or lack thereof. Something like a white mask enclosed the entirety of his head. It looked like it was made of bone. Luminous yellow orbs shone through the gaps where the eyes were supposed to be. The mask itself was carved into a neutral scowl with bared teeth, not unlike some sort of living skeleton.

Masks were a prime characteristic of Hollows. No hollow was the same as another, but all of them had a similar mask of their own. It was one of two stigmas they had to live with till the end of time.

Hollows were, in a way, branded. It was nearly impossible for them to hide their true nature.

The second stigma in question was a hole in the hollow's body. They were mostly found on the chest. It was clean, perfectly rounded, with a clear sight of the other side.

There was nothing much to say about it. If anything, it was a hint to understand what people of the past thought about when baptizing these monstrous beings. Whatever the case, it did not matter now.

And what was this hollow doing? What was there to do in such a gigantic place where nothing of real interest was on sight?

Hollows themselves would not speak about their intentions so readily if someone asked. They'd rather attack first and answer later. But it was a simple matter: Hollows had quite the voracious appetite. And this one was hungry as well.

Fortunately, this hollow had finally found food.

He stopped on his tracks. There was a figure sitting on a lonely rock, staring at the moon. It was a rather small thing to be called a hollow. From afar it was obvious this figure was far more normal - it seemed like a person. A few steps closer revealed it was a person indeed, an adult man.

The tiny person would make for a decent snack before he could find a bigger dish to feast on. Mind finally set, the Hollow stepped up towards his prey.

Upon closer inspection it was easy to discern how bizarre the little human looked. He was enveloped from head to toe with dirty bandages. Not even a strand of hair or an inch of skin could be seen through the bulk of torn coverings. Some facial features were distantly recognizable underneath. Otherwise, aside from the skeletal contours showing his lack of nourishment, the man was completely nondescript. Completely mummified.

A torn, dark piece of clothing was tied around his waist. It functioned like a skirt of sorts. From a glimpse anyone would understand it was old, antique, far too destroyed to be of any use as clothing. It barely reached the man's knees.

The hollow decided to halt his march for a moment. His sight rested on a peculiar object he had failed to see before, so blinded by hunger that he was.

The man was holding onto something. It was a tall, thick slab of metal. It was roughly shaped like an oversized butcher knife. The man's bandages were firmly tied around the hilt. The weapon, if it could be called like that, was stuck into the sand in an uncomfortable position.

The knife was rusted, cracked. It was incredible such a piece of junk managed to stay in one piece by now. Time and use had been mean to it, heralding its definite end in the form of faded colors and unfixable fissures. By the looks of it, nobody would think it could cut anything at all. At any second it would definitely break into many pieces.

Both entities remained unmoving. Their silence stretched out a tad bit too long before one of them decided to break the ice and speak.

"Hey. It's a good night, don't you think?" said the man with nonchalance. He had not turned his head to talk face-to-face yet, far too mesmerized by the moon.

The Hollow tilted his head to one side. A good night? A bizarre claim to make, as there was no day or night cycle, no good or bad value judgments in Hueco Mundo.

Hueco mundo was. It just was, unchanging, static, and nothing else.

The man did not seem to think much of his unsuitable question. He scratched his neck, coarse fingers grating against coarser bandages.

"Are you just going to stand there or what?" he murmured, aloof. "At least come a little closer. It's a pain to talk louder so you can hear me. My throat is dry."

There was another moment of silence. Hesitantly, the monstrous hollow approached the bandaged man until they were a couple of feet away.

"…So, how's it going? Anything to share?" asked the man levelly. "It gets lonely here and I thought we could talk. I'd rather you speak, though, cuz talking with myself gets jarring after a while. I'm a pain in my own ass."

The hollow let some seconds pass for the message to sink in. He growled a guttural sound, unresponsive otherwise.

The mysterious man shook his head. He sighed, seemingly disappointed.

"Fine, fine, suit yourself. Hollows and their damn attitudes…"

The next silent interval was a bit more uncomfortable. The beast hunched, jaw slacking, as if he were to bite the mummy's head off. He did not. He breathed loudly instead, digging his clawed feet into the sand.

"…Unnecessary."

It was an echoing croak, barely understandable. The beast's teeth clattered and grinded against each other, playing a skeletal symphony, with the baritone of his distorted voice playing even louder just to form recognizable sounds. The movements of the mask did not seem to match his speech.

The bandaged man perked up, nonetheless, as if he'd heard something particularly impressive. He turned his head towards the beast with a concerning creak of his neck. Seemingly excited, he gestured wildly with his free hand.

"Yes? Why would you think that?" he questioned with energy. "I mean, here in the desert there's not much to do. Sitting down and having a conversation can be productive and entertaining… it gets boring when everyday's dog-eat-dog."

The hollow tilted his head, regarding the bizarre man as if he'd just asked why fire was hot. Something like a puzzled groan escaped from the depths of his throat as he racked his brain for an answer to the world's most evident question.

Anyone who thought conversing was a viable option in Hueco Mundo was simply delusional, or extremely ignorant. A person did not have a nice friendly chat with the seasoned turkey he'd have for dinner. This was no different.

The hollow shook his head.

"It's unnecessary to engage in meaningless chatter. I have nothing to say to you, and I'm not interested in any of your fantastical misconceptions. Why must you insist, knowing I approached you with all intentions in mind, except talking?" reasoned the hollow.

The hollow spat the word 'talking' with such disgust the sole prospect apparently repulsed him. Or maybe he was just baffled that a person with a head on his shoulders would even consider it. In turn, the bandaged man looked somewhat downtrodden about being shot down so quickly.

He recovered rather quickly anyway. His head spun back to the moon above.

"…Yeah, you do have a point," the man admitted. "I suppose I am messed up in the head and waste a lot of time doing meaningless things. I can't help it. I was bored."

Had the hollow had a nose, he'd have snorted. Hollows didn't feel bored either – they couldn't. Creatures of limited intellect and imagination seldom felt bored staring at the same rock for hundreds of hours. They had enough mental capacity to care for the essential, their need to subsist, survive, and grow, but not enough to tire of repetitive tasks. The hunger was far too great to care for anything else.

Only those that had given up on eating could truly get bored. They had abandoned their defining quality, transcended it, and could thus focus on other things. These mythical beings could be counted with the fingers of one hand, their scarce number a reflection of their rareness, or perhaps the impossibility of transcending at all.

It was easier to doubt the veracity of their existence rather than harbor hope for lowly and mindless hollows. It was much easier to find a stupid man who thought chatting with hollows was commonplace, actually.

"This pathetic display of yours, this pantomime of civility… you shall briefly enjoy it because I allow you to. I shall not degrade myself by performing an animalistic ambush like a lesser member of my kin…"

The man slouched, sighing with something like relief.

"Finally, thank you," he groaned. "You actually have no idea how many times I've been attacked without the chance to say a word-"

"Make no mistake, madman. Your life may not end now, in this very instant, but it shall in a moment. Your mind games won't distract me from nourishing myself with your life essence. I need to grow stronger, to attain greater power, and I'm not one to discard a perfectly functional stepping stone when I see it."

There was an interval of silence. It was soon broken by the sound of hoarse laughter, an irritating sound like nails scratching sandpaper, interrupted from time to time with unexpected coughing fits.

"That's the most flattering thing a hollow has ever said about me!" The man said so with a hint of comical pride after clearing his throat. "Nearly makes me blush. I still remember when a hollow unironically called me 'king'. How the mighty has fallen, huh…"

Another irritating laugh followed his contemplations. He shook his head with humor, murmuring something like 'good times' under his raspy breath. The bandaged man turned to look at the beast and dedicated him a thumbs-up.

"Jokes aside, I'm glad you see some use in a dusty old rag like me," he continued. "I don't have a lot of meat on my bones and I think I'll taste rather dry too. Hope you like chewing bones cuz that's all I've got now, hahahaha."

The hollow was beyond feeling amazed about this man's bizarre claims at this point. He was not joking or making a fool out of the beast, considering the calmness with which he spoke. For a creature so intent on self-preservation, the hollow could not make heads or tails about this person's uncaring attitude, throwing his life away as if it didn't make a difference. It was within reason to be wary; what if the mummy was tricking him into chomping down on him? Was his meat or soul poisoned in some way? Was he waiting to attack when he relaxed?

The man probably sensed hesitation from the beast. He put a hand up in an appeasing gesture.

"What? Did I put you off?" he asked, genuinely concerned if the frown twisting his bandages was any indication. "I mean, yes, it's true I'm all bones now. But I'm sure I have quite a bit of spiritual power left in this body. If you don't mind the taste, you'd benefit a lot from killing me."

There was no response from the hollow. They stared at each other silently.

"…You could evolve into a stronger hollow, I think."

The hollow did not comment on the dubious addendum either. He just waited, and waited, and waited, and the bizarre man waited along with him, restless at the prospect of being eaten.

"I said I wouldn't kill you immediately. I wanted to confirm something, to satisfy my curiosity, as you've given me things to think about," simply clarified the hollow after a long while. The man prompted him with a twirl of his hand.

"Of course! Go ahead, shoot."

The hollow growled, lifting his head while staring down at the man.

"Hmm… are you one of these puny Soul Reapers, I think they were called? Maybe a rogue?" questioned the beast cautiously.

"Soul Reaper? Me?" said he while clutching his bandaged chest. "Of course not. The Soul Reapers themselves would be the first ones to tell you I'm not one. No, I'm just a pariah. Why the question?

"Something about you reminds me of them, more or less. It would have been truly hilarious if those weaklings decided to send their own into Hueco Mundo… I figured you were an exile, in which case, it seems a fitting punishment."

The bandaged man chuckled at the hollow's explanation.

"Careful or you'll make it sound like there's any Soul Reapers left to send!" he commented while his chuckle slowly devolved into a hyena's hysteric laugh. His whole body shook in a sickly manner, as if he couldn't physically contain the amusement or bear with it once it was released. He coughed when he finally, finally ran out of air in his lungs, with the hollow wordlessly admiring the spectacle.

"Who are you then? What's your name?" patiently questioned the hollow seconds later. "You should be able to answer that much."

At that moment, the man moved. He turned to stare at the hollow face to face.

It was an ugly sight. The tired brown eyes under the bandages stared at the beast with something like hope and desperation. They were sunk into his skull, darkened, as if two holes had been carved in his head and dirty coffee-colored marbles were put into them. He smiled from ear to ear, then, with crooked black-yellow teeth that had not met a toothbrush in years. Sticky grime and blood dripped from his gums and down his lips.

"I'm nobody. I'm just here, waiting."

The hollow, intrigued, asked once again.

"Waiting for what, 'nobody'?"

The man giggled with a brief yet maddening timbre to his voice. He shook his head, like snapping out of a nap, and sighed.

"I don't know. My end, I suppose," simply answered the man. "If I wait long enough, I'll probably turn into dust or something like that. I sit around, waiting for my disappearance."

He was downcast for a number of seconds. He straightened his back moments later.

"I have no name. Not anymore. If you insist, you can just call me Saki."

The hollow tilted his head. A macabre sound erupted from his toothy mask, a distorted giggle of some sort.

"Why haven't you killed yourself, if death is your craving?"

Saki snorted. He glanced at the monster from the corner of his eye.

"If I was able to, I would've done so a long time ago."

The silence that followed lasted a bit longer. It was a pregnant pause, however, as both knew about the intention lingering in the air.

One of them would soon cease to be.

"Go ahead, use me as your stepping stone," murmured Saki. "I'll gladly discard this body if it can serve some purpose to someone else. If we're not going to talk, then just… just get it over with. Please."

The hollow didn't waste any time raising his claw high in the air. The appendage creaked unsettling noises as it wrenched itself open into a menacing sight, above the man this beast intended to make his meal for the day.

"Fine. Allow me to grant you your wish, Saki."

The man exhaled, relieved, while dismissively waving a hand.

"Thank you. I'll root for you as much as I can, so… do your best."

It was an ominous yet sincere cheer, but it fell in deaf ears and vanished. Saki let his head hang low then. A man waiting for the guillotine's blade to fall on him couldn't seem more relaxed than Saki even if he tried. All that was left was to wait-

The hollow's claw fell down. It tore apart the stale air of Hueco Mundo, heavily so, aiming to pulverize this pathetic man's head. Any other person would've been turned into a red fleshy paste had they received this attack head-on.

The claw stopped with a clank. A metallic screech echoed, travelling as far as dunes that calmly overlooked the two beings kilometers away. Ripples travelled across the powdery sea beneath their feet. The impact of the blow sunk them into a small crater.

A cloud of dust rose up. Grains of sand were propelled upwards. There was no blood in sight, however. There were no body parts flying around mutilated and useless nor screams that signaled an attack well struck.

As the cloud settled down, the hollow saw what had stopped his attack in place.

Saki's rusted blade.

The bandaged man had raised his hefty, impractical knife over his head and against his back. He had blocked the hollow's fatal strike with the flat of his blade. Saki had completed a twirl of his weapon around him in the second the hollow took to touch his body. It was swift, immediate, and precise.

'A sorry man like this shouldn't be able to do such a thing'. That kind of thought probably crossed the hollow's mind, in a fraction of a second, but he didn't exercise precaution or consider his options. No…

…This was his meal, and it was resisting him. This would not do.

The hollow roared. He swatted the sword away with a potent flick of his arm. He raised the other arm and extended it forward like a powerful lance. Even if the man managed to block this attack too, the strength behind it would shatter his sword. It was inevitable.

The wellbeing of the weapon mattered little to Saki, however. He used the momentum from the hollow's first attack to spin around, jumping from the rock he was sitting on. As his feet landed on sand, he brought his sword down with one arm, ready to meet the beast's assault with his own.

Sparks flew as the blade's deteriorated edge met the steel-like skin of the hollow. The sword did not break from the force. It simply slid across the monster's long arm while producing an abominable noise, unable to cut through flesh and bone due to the steel's decay.

There was no need to cut anything either way.

Saki pushed his sword against the hollow's arm. This changed the course of his attack, deviating the spear-claw from his heart. It grazed his shoulder instead, barely caressing his bandages.

Taking advantage of this new opening, he got under the beast's guard. After one, two, three quick steps forward, he was inches away from his defenseless enemy. Saki then smashed his shoulder against the hollow's body. There was a sound like an explosion and the hollow gasped in surprise. The push was strong enough to launch the monster against a mound of sand overlooking their battle.

Saki tripped on his feet, seeking some stable footing. After a few seconds, he relaxed into a semblance of a fighting stance, holding his massive sword at his side with one arm while his other arm lingered flaccid and quiet. He stared at his enemy, slowly sinking into the sand as he waited.

The hollow didn't spend much time buried where he was. He burst out of his white, grainy prison, howling a spine-chilling tune. Then he spun in the air and landed on all fours with a powerful jolt.

In one second they were staring at each other. The next, the hollow was already in Saki's face.

The bandaged man brought down his sword just in time to block a deadly bite. The beast clenched his teeth on the rusty metal Saki used as a weapon, applying every ounce of strength and pressure just to shatter it. There was no such luck.

The hollow then knew he wouldn't disarm his opponent anytime soon. Instead, he planted his claws on the sand, and pushed. The sand itself simply didn't offer enough stability to push back on the spot, so Saki was at the mercy of the monster's building momentum.

Saki skidded backwards. The hollow pushed and pushed in a single-minded frenzy to get the sword out of the way and murder him. Both met the challenge and neither lost in the initial struggle.

Saki left two long trails on the sand with his heels. The struggle continued and the hollow managed to push the vagabond back a whole mile before he tired. His speed and the force behind his shove couldn't last forever, and certainly not when Saki was still slowing him down with only the strength of his arm.

One seconds was all it took. The moment both of them came to a halt, Saki shook the hollow off his blade, shoving him back. The hollow was thrown off balance, but he still attempted an attack from the side with a long claw.

Saki intercepted that one with the flat of his blade too. He didn't budge, but the sand at his feet vibrated from the shock of the strike.

-This was it. The hollow saw an opening, in that instant when the man was protecting one side while leaving the other exposed.

The hollow approached. Saliva dripped from the depths of his mouth. He twisted his deformed body in an impossible angle, ready to bite a huge chunk of flesh off Saki. With his powerful teeth and no resistance to be found, he could easily kill this skinny freak in a blink.

He approached, hungrily, ready to have a taste.

Something shattered, then. The hollow gasped once again, confused upon seeing the world twist and rotate wildly in his vision.

Moments later, he realized it was his head the one shaking out of place and not the world.

It had been faster than the wind. The hollow simply could not react to a strike that apparently manifested out of nowhere, until the monster himself admitted to a careless fact.

Saki had sucker-punched him with his free hand. The strike was fast, invisible, retracting just as the hollow's boney chin splintered in places from the impact. This time it was the monster losing his balance on the sandy battlefield. He stumbled back, instinctively trying to reach out to his prey with his freakishly long claws.

The hollow didn't even get a chance to grab him. Saki skipped towards his opponent, and with the new opening, he delivered a powerful uppercut. The second punch struck cleanly on the chin and ended up shattering the hollow's toothy mask as well.

Saki brandished his sword high in the air then. He bent his knees and pounced.

Anyone would think an old sword with a blunt edge was useless. It could not even perform the one thing it had been invented for, namely, to slice and decapitate. But, a blunt, heavy sword was still blunt and heavy at the end of the day. Clean cuts were merciful, fast, and could finish an opponent in a second.

A neglected and corroded weapon on the other hand… it could see some unsightly uses. This was one.

A vicious assault followed. Saki smashed the unsharpened end of his tool against the hollow's shoulder, neck, side, hips, and legs. He rinsed and repeated, then mixed the order of his targets in order to confuse even more, and swung even more violently after pauses that lasted less and less. Some swings were slow and methodical; others were fast and unpredictable. When the hollow seemed to regain a shred of clarity, Saki twisted his body in the same morbid manner as him and delivered blows that could've split solid rocks in half.

Saki did not allow a counterattack nor a rest to the hollow at his mercy. He simply continued, silently, intent on finishing the job.

Bones were grinded into dust. Flesh was smashed into paste. The hollow's limbs were bruised and bent beyond recognition when a tortuous minute had finally elapsed, and Saki did not stop. The sword-knife kept smashing with refined brutality as if it had a will of its own.

The hollow was finally forced to the ground. He was unable to carry his own weight with a broken body.

Saki halted his furious strike. His adversary was not a threat anymore, but he was not finished yet.

He raised his sword one last time. The hollow let out a beastly whimper and-

-He died.

It only took one strong swing to split his mask in half. The monster lay there, slain, dead, with chunks of his flesh scattered across the sand.

The hollow's body quite literally began disintegrating seconds later. This gigantic hunk of muscle began unraveling into threads of shining blue light. The threads unraveled further into luminous particles that floated around not unlike fireflies. They drifted in the air without a clear destination, slowly, flickering in and out of existence as the last piece of the monster's corpse finished its transition into luminescent matter.

There was nothing left after a short while.

Saki remained where he was. He stared impassively at the disappearing hollow as if making sure his enemy wouldn't suddenly return with another surprise.

Some minutes passed by.

He flinched. He took a step back. He looked around, bewildered, searching for the hollow that had been by his side a second ago, talking to him, promising him the release of death-

"-Ah."

Saki deflated after a moment of realization.

The hollow was dead. He'd killed him in cold blood.

Even if there was no corpse in sight, the blood dripping from his sword was all the proof he needed.

His voice was caught in his throat a couple of times. He stepped back and forward, swinging his hand around, searching deep in his mind for explanations and excuses that'd justify the brutal slaughter he just committed.

"…Sorry. I should've given you a heads-up," he said with a gentle voice. "I really didn't want to do this, I… I just lose control sometimes. It happens and… well, I honestly don't know what to say. I'm sorry. I didn't even ask for your name…"

In the end, he was at a loss for words. There was simply no way to explain this and certainly not to someone who was already dead.

"Can't even become a stepping stone… terrific."

Saki looked down at his sword. He sighed and flicked the edge with his finger.

"Hope you're happy. I lost a perfectly comfortable rock to sit on."

After murmuring his complaint, he set out towards a random direction, dragging the sword along with him.

A bit soon but I wish you all Merry Christmas, boyos and gurls.

(21/12/2022)