The blood always awakens something in me that I can't fully control. It's an instinctive, and animalistic, urge to rip further into the injured creature and let more of the red liquid loose to splatter against the sands. To sink my teeth through armor, or fur, and into flesh and muscle. The feeling is never as strong if I'm just watching, easily manageable to someone with my kind of experience and control, but when the blood is spilled in a hunt, or by my own claws, it's altogether different. Everything around me dims, mutes, and my focus shifts to center completely on the injured creature. Scratch or gaping wound, it's the same.

It's the smell, mostly, that wakes my instincts to fight, hunt, and feed, but I'd be lying if I said the sight of blood didn't do near the same thing to me. The sight of the crimson liquid staining the sands dark black or painting macabre patterns on the white armor of a hollow calls to something deep in my soul, a long buried and forgotten part that I only ever realized was there when I became a hollow. A part that understands and welcomes the dark sky and crescent moon, that loves the shift of sand beneath my feet and yearns to challenge or hunt every hollow that looses a cry over the quiet desert. Sometimes it's all I can do not to lose myself completely in the joy and ease of the hunt, and only a thin thread of sanity and reason remains behind to separate me from being a complete animal.

This is one of those times.

The hollow in front of me – Akito-something, the sane part of my mind reminds me – is favoring his right side, the one with four large slices over it that are spilling dark blood over his white armor. In the long run those will leech him of his strength, but I have absolutely no intention of letting this go on that long. This hollow might be strong, but I'm better, and it won't do me any good to let anyone else think that someone of this level poses a threat to me.

He snarls at me with sharp teeth bared, blue eyes narrowed behind his mask, and I hiss back. Around us is a roar of noise, cheers and boos and all kinds of shouts that for the moment I'm ignoring. It's taking more or less all of my control not to fall into the ease of the hunt, since this hollow isn't powerful enough to make me feel threatened and keep me grounded.

He shifts his weight, there's a momentary tremble in his reiatsu, and I move instantaneously. He reacts – not nearly fast enough – by clawing at me with his right hand, and I duck under the swing with ease, carving a matching set of gashes on his left side with a slice of my left hand and my nearly four inch – after the length of my fingers – claws as I move past him. He roars in pain and I spin on my heel and charge a cero between my horns, firing it into the center of his back and giving him absolutely no time to react. He gets slammed to the ground under the force of the attack, though it doesn't do any actual damage to him, and I move forward and kneel over his back as he's recovering.

He doesn't even have time to struggle before I wrap my left hand around his throat and drag his head up, my claws scratching at his skin.

"Submit," I snarl, my free hand lowering to curl around his right shoulder and pin it to the ground.

He trembles under me, snarling in anger, but after a few seconds he goes limp in my grasp. I give a rough laugh and tighten my grip, letting the claws of my right hand sink a few centimeters into his shoulder. I've been doing this way too long to let a trick like that fool me.

"Submit, or I tear open your throat."

He gives a growl and his claws dig into the sand before he relaxes and speaks. "I… submit, King."

I let my grip loosen and lean down, carefully avoiding stabbing him with my horns as I bite into his shoulder and tear away a piece of armor and skin. He chokes back a cry as I swallow, and I shudder at the rush of power that swells in my chest and fills me from my toes upwards. The hollow might not be powerful as me, but that doesn't mean he's weak.

I release him and rise, standing and glancing around at the crowd of hollows surrounding us. Not too close – no sane hollow would stay near two fighting Vasto Lorde level hollows – but they're moving closer since it's clear we're done. I turn back to Akito, pushing himself to his knees, and sheathe my claws with a thought as I hold a hand out to him. He looks up at me in surprise for a moment before taking it and letting me pull him up.

"King," he murmurs, bowing his white head.

Before I can answer a rush of power has me turning automatically, claws sliding halfway out as I face the new threat. Not more than fifty feet away are two shinigami, black coats settling to the sand at their feet. They're both tall, my height, and they both have white captain coats over the standard shinigami uniform, but beyond that they're very different. One has short silver hair and is slender, thin hands crossed in his wide sleeves, mouth stretched in a toothless grin and eyes closed to slits. The other is much more solidly built, with medium length dark brown hair and equally dark brown eyes behind glasses.

They move towards me, the one with brown hair leading the way with confidence, and I let my claws slide all the way out. They stop a little over ten feet away and the brown haired one offers me a small smile that is friendly and warm.

"You must be the King of Hueco Mundo," he says, his voice deep and carrying easily across the sands.

I resist the urge to bare my teeth. "I am. What do you want with me?" I demand, meeting the leader's brown eyes with my golden ones.

"I'm Aizen Sousuke," the captain says, one hand rising to the other shinigami at his left, "and my companion is Ichimaru Gin. You've heard of Las Noches, yes?"

Yes, I've heard. It's a giant white dome on the edges of my official range, built over a few years time by arrancar that – if rumor is true – are being created by some mysterious shinigami. This must be him.

"Yes," I answer shortly, and his smile flickers to a smirk.

"Baraggan told me about you, King. I'd like to recruit you to my army." His tone is easy, conversational, but I bristle.

Baraggan was my predecessor, the King before me. I fought and beat him years ago and I've been ruling ever since. He vanished a long time ago but I didn't think anything of it, vanquished hollows don't tend to stick around the people who defeated them. Baraggan was never honorable, per se, but I can't imagine him willingly obeying a shinigami, he was too proud for that.

"What makes you think I'll serve you?" I snarl, reiatsu rising around me as anger stirs in my stomach. As if I'd serve one of the destroyers. As if he could make me.

The captain, Aizen, draws the sword at his waist with a practiced flick. "Instinct, to put it plainly. You aren't the first hollow I've encouraged to obey me, and you won't be the last. I challenge you, King, for your title and your power."

An uneasy chill slips up my spine at the matter of fact words and the easy tone they're said in. I've had a lot of people challenge me in my years as King, but no one's ever been so sure of themselves before. Not to mention that none of them were shinigami. The quiet arrogance and utter confidence is worrying, especially since I can feel the tightly contained power in the captain. His silver haired companion - Ichimaru's - power feels insignificant and pathetic next it.

"If you defeat me, King, then by all means devour me and claim my strength as your own. If you can, of course. But if you cannot then I will claim you as a subordinate, just as I did with Baraggan."

Yeah, definitely worrying. Baraggan might not be near my strength now, though at the time I challenged him we were fairly evenly matched, but he's no pushover. And more than that, he's proud and stubborn. He would never have laid down for a shinigami, regardless of power. So this captain must have legitimately forced the old hollow into submission, like I did. That's nothing to sneeze at, I know how deadly Baraggan is.

I half turn my head to the hollow at my side, Akito-whatever. "Get them away, to a safe distance."

He takes off without further prompting, back towards the horde of hollow behind me. Aizen gives a small smile and a nod to his companion, who immediately backs off across the sands with several steps of shunpo. No one will want to be around us. If this captain is as powerful as me then no one will be safe anywhere remotely close, not if we go all out.

I'm starting to think that's exactly what's going to happen.

The captain takes a single step forward, sword low at his side and smile still etched on his face. "You accept my terms then, King?"

"Are you giving me a choice?" I snap back.

He chuckles and gives a small shrug, "No, I suppose I'm not."

"Then why the fuck are you asking?" I snarl, letting the tight control I have over my reiatsu slip a little bit. My power flares around me, eddies of black and red swirling at my feet and stirring my long hair. I curl my hands a little and lower my head, catching Aizen in my sights between the points of my horns. Whatever happens now, I'm committed. I can feel the blood lust stir again from where it's been lingering in the depths of my mind, never given the chance to recede after my fight with the other hollow, and I let it sharpen my gaze down to include little more than the shinigami.

I can smell him, feel his power, and I have to repress a shudder. I know from my encounters with other shinigami that there is nothing that compares to how absurdly good that power will feel coursing through me, how incredible his blood will taste when I rip into his throat and claim his soul. It's enough to conjure saliva to my mouth and bring the anticipation burning in my chest to a raging inferno. It takes a good bit of control not to succumb to my instincts and charge the captain, that's a rookie mistake that gets far too many new hollows killed. Not me though. Even as a kit I knew to be wary of the steel they carried, and to take down my prey from afar if possible.

It's not the same now, the armor that came with my transformation into a Vasto Lorde is all but impenetrable as far as I know. Not even Baraggan ever managed to cut far enough through the layers of bone to reach skin, not that Baraggan had much in the way of brute force or sharp weapons. His power and abilities were deadly, but as a hollow his form wasn't very impressive.

The captain moves in an instant, a flare of power giving me a fraction of a second of warning. I track him as he comes in on my left side and turn to meet him, eyes narrowing as he thrusts forward at my stomach. I spin outwards to avoid it and slice at his right shoulder, my claws catching only fabric as he steps away from the attack. I don't follow as he moves away with a step of shunpo, settling in the sand a distance away from me. His left hand raises and after a moment, where he says something I don't catch, a torrent of blue energy leaves his hand and roars at me.

It's impressive, but I can do better.

I shift a foot back and gather a cero between my horns, waiting till the attack is nearly upon me before releasing the red energy with a scream of challenge that is all but lost in the resulting explosion of sand and power. I can't see it beneath the clouds of dust in the air but I can feel his attack wither and dissipate under mine, making way for the cero to continue towards Aizen. He moves out of harm's way with plenty of time to spare, as I assumed he would, and I jump towards where I can sense him. I come out of the cloud of dust close to the ground, skimming over the sands and focusing in on his figure, and skid to a stop next to him with a spray of sand, slicing at his side with my left hand. He catches my claws in his sword, flicking my hand away and off to the side. For a brief moment where time seems to slow we stare at each other, my golden eyes locked with his brown ones, before his sword flashes towards my head and I slap the sword down and away from me with my right hand, before turning to kick at his stomach.

None of this means a damn thing. We're testing each other with a fraction of our actual strength, as his sealed sword attests to. It's only a waiting game to see who will take the next step first, which one of us will be the first to act upon the knowledge that it will take a lot more than this to beat the other. For me that just means accessing more of my vast supply of power, but for him it means going into shikai. I'd prefer to let him take the lead with this, on the off chance that his sword will have some nasty ability I'll have to react to instantaneously. Better that he not know what I'm capable of.

Though, to be fair, I don't have much in the way of surprises. I'm strong, fast, near invulnerable, and I can regenerate wounds that would kill most others, but I lack the abilities that some other hollows have. I can't spit acid, or poison, or do any of the exceedingly deadly things I've seen others do over the years. My strength lies in my physical form, I wasn't designed to out-think or trick an opponent.

He slashes out at me and I pull back, though not quite far enough. I feel the steel grate along the armor protecting my left shoulder and automatically step back and fully out of range, shooting a quick glance down at the plate of bone. There's not so much as a scratch to mark where the blow landed.

"Is that it?" I ask in a snarl.

The captain's sword is at his side, tip barely brushing the sands below his feet. His eyes are narrowed, mouth a flat line. "Baraggan did warn me that you were hard to injure, King, but I admit to being impressed. That armor of yours is quite thick, hm?"

Actually, it's not. It's barely an inch thick on the biggest pieces – over my shoulders, back, and chest – and closer to a quarter inch on the less well defended areas – stomach, legs, and arms. It isn't the thickness that makes it strong, it's the power protecting it. It doesn't matter if it's an inch or a foot thick, I know that first hand. I've seen, and defeated, hollows with absurdly thick plates of armor, and it was never any more useful to them than a coat of butter against my claws and teeth.

"I suppose we may as well take this to the next step then."

He steps forward, thrusting his sword up at my throat, and I jump backwards. His lips twist in a small smirk and without lowering his sword he says, "Shatter, Kyouka Suigetsu."

I automatically shield my eyes with a hand as he speaks, anticipating the flying sand that always accompanies releases of power. I've been the victim of grains of sand in my eyes more times than I care to count, one of the constant hazards of living, let alone fighting, in Hueco Mundo. Sure enough the moment the last syllable leaves his lips an explosion of reiatsu throws up a wave of sand and dust into the air, completely blocking my view of the captain. But I can feel him.

The reiatsu, even the tiny amount reaching far enough out to touch me, grates against my awareness. Reiatsu reflects the user, and what I can feel in his slams me back into full control over my instincts. The captain's power feels like a steel blade. Cold, sharp, honed over decades of use and carefully crafted to kill. The captain is powerful, and more than that he's truly dangerous. This isn't some shinigami fresh out of the gates, this is a centuries old killer who has doubtlessly slaughtered enough hollows to make my own count – which I lost track of a long time ago – look insignificant.

And he's still got a bankai to fall back on.

Anticipation, accompanied by a tiny thread of fear, flares in my chest and I swallow back saliva, lowering my hand from my face – though I keep my eyes slitted – as the captain's reiatsu levels out and the sand stops being flung in every direction, starting to settle to the ground. I stay still and watch, eyes trained forward and towards where I can feel him, waiting while the air starts to clear. Rushing in will get you killed, when you don't know what you're up against, without a doubt. I've watched too many hollows die from that mistake.

The dust finally dissipates enough to see and I flick eyes over him, looking for any hint of whatever he's unleashed. He's standing still, watching me, and there doesn't seem to be any physical change of either him or his sword. Interesting. Every other shinigami I've ever devoured had a sword that changed after releasing shikai, but as far as I can see absolutely nothing is different about the captain.

A step of shunpo circles him around to my side, though he doesn't get any closer, and I turn to keep him in sight. His eyes widen briefly before he glances down at his sword – low at his side – and gives a tiny smirk.

"That's interesting," he comments, brown eyes returning to me. I stay silent, waiting for him to expand on his vague words, but he only smiles.

He darts at me in the next second, nothing but a brief flux in his reiatsu providing warning. I duck under his sword and lash out at his stomach, gauging his strength and letting some of my own power loose to rival it. The influx of my own strength lessens the sting of his reiatsu against my skin, but doesn't eliminate it. It's been a long time since I've met an opponent who could hurt me even in this insignificant of a way, and even longer since anyone has truly challenged me like Aizen is doing.

He reacts instantaneously to my strike, sword swiveling to come down between us and intercept my claws. He flicks my hand away, turning with the strike so his back is to me for a fraction of a second, and without a word fires a ball of orange kidou from his left hand into my chest at point blank range. The impact throws me backwards – though there's no actual pain – and I skid to a stop in the sands, throwing a glance down at my chest only after ensuring that Aizen isn't immediately coming after me.

My armor is scorched, black with soot, but completely undamaged. Still, as I raise my gaze to where the captain is standing, I can see in his eyes the same knowledge that I have. This changes things.

Even though it didn't do any damage, this proves he can hit me and affect me. Speed is the first line of defense in a fight between people as powerful as us. If one combatant can't hit the other due to a difference of speed than that combatant's options reduce drastically. They can still win, but it's unlikely and rare. Speed is more or less the most important part of combat. Now he knows he can hit me, it's just a matter of hitting me with something powerful enough to breach my armor.

That settles it. To hell with the slow buildup of power, this captain's too dangerous to risk being injured this early in the fight. It's been a long time since I've gone all out anyway, not since my fight with Baraggan – and that was before I added his strength to mine. Everyone could use the reminder of how powerful I really am.

I relax the careful grip I have on my reiatsu, letting it loose to lift the sand around my feet in small black and red swirls. For now it's dormant, but I can feel it swell and if the way that Aizen's smile falls is any indication so can he. I grin behind my mask and take a brief moment to luxuriate in the feel of finally being able to completely relax my control, then I speed at him.

He blocks the first swipe of my claws, the one that would have opened his throat, and ducks away from the second, but I can feel him struggling to keep up with me. Power flares around me and I snarl a challenge, closing my hand around the edge of his sword, dragging him towards me and in range of the claws of my opposite hand. His lips move in silent words, and a blast of blue lightning fired from his free hand knocks my left arm away, before my claws can tear into his skin.

Enough!

I fire a bala from my horns and it hits his chest before he has the chance to react, flinging him away from me and ripping his sword from my hand. I can smell blood, and scorched flesh, and I jump towards where he's flat on his back in the sand. He doesn't have time to stand before I'm over him, my claws sinking into the flesh of his right shoulder, and my knees settling to either side of his torso. His chest is burned, and leaking blood from a few scratches. Nothing big, but enough.

I start to lean down, and his sword comes up between us, his eyes narrowed and mouth tight. I catch it in my right hand, mouth parting as I grin, and he speaks.

"Bankai."

The wave of power knocks me away from him, flinging me up and backwards, but it only takes a moment to right myself and summon reiatsu to my feet to allow myself to stand midair. Blood drips from the claws of my left hand, falling into the maelstrom of sand below me. I can feel his power rising, more than enough to match mine, and my lips curl in a snarl behind my mask. His reiatsu burns where it brushes against my skin, and I take a small step backwards. Maybe I'm in over my head.

His power sharpens, stealing my breath for a moment, and a blur of white speeds past me. I roar in pain, my left hand rising to cover the deep gash through my right shoulder. The pain is intense and unnerving after so long hidden behind my armor plating, as is the sight of my own blood as it runs down my arm. I turn towards Aizen, eyes narrowing.

He smirks, brown eyes sharp behind his glasses. "Not invulnerable after all, are we? It's just a matter of strength."

I flex my right hand, and the stab of pain makes me give an involuntary hiss. Right, so that arm's not much use anymore. I release it, gritting my teeth and watching the captain carefully. I still have my left hand, and my horns, but honestly it's not likely I'll win this. He's stronger than me, I can feel it, and my dominant arm is crippled. It's too deep for me to heal quickly, though I can already feel my regenerative abilities working to close the wound. This fight won't last long enough for that to be any use.

The captain moves forward, confidence in his stride. He knows as well as I do that he outmatches me, especially now that I'm injured. I take a half-step back before steeling myself and giving a low snarl.

No. I am the King of Hueco Mundo, a title earned in blood and death, and I will not run. I earned this title, pried it from Baraggan's hands and defended it for years. I might be in over my head, this might be an enemy I can't defeat, but I will not turn and run from a challenge. I'm no coward.

His first slash – a casual flick of his sword towards my throat – I duck away from, the eddies of reiatsu coming off the blade biting against my skin. I fire off a bala, which he bats away with his free hand, and claw at him with my left hand. The next thing I know, I no longer have the last inch of the claws on that hand. I only have time for a brief moment of genuine fear – which is something I haven't felt in a long time – before his hand curls around one of my horns and flings me to the ground.

When I catch my breath and the spots clear from my vision, the captain's hand is around my throat. The tip of his sword is pressing against my side, carefully maneuvered between the plates of armor protecting my skin. I slowly lift my head to meet his eyes, careful not to provoke any sudden impalement.

"Do you submit, King?" he asks softly.

I almost snarl at him for daring to ask, just out of years of habit, before reigning the impulse in. He's beaten me, clearly, obviously. I'm not suicidal, and my pride isn't so stiff that I'd die to preserve it. Shinigami he may be, and that bites, but he's also proven he's my better.

"Yes," I answer grudgingly, and his grip tightens.

"Say it," he demands.

Ah, so he's not ignorant of hollow culture after all. I give a quiet snarl, the last vestiges of my resistance, before forcing myself to relax in his grip, what remains of my claws sliding back into their sheaths.

"I submit, King."

The captain, my new King, releases his grip on my throat. He withdraws his sword, sheathing it with the ease of practice, as he straightens up. He offers me his left hand, I take it, and he pulls me to standing. I suppose I should be glad. If I had lost to a hollow, and it would have happened eventually, there would have been nothing for me but death. I was the exception, I let Baraggan live, but no other King would have done the same. A King can be overthrown if he or she isn't liked, and who better to lead that rebellion than the previous King?

This way, at least I'll survive.

"What's your name?" my King asks me.

I straighten up to my full height, ignoring the blood dripping down my right arm, and meet his eyes squarely. "Kurosaki Ichigo."

It's been a long time since anyone has had the right to ask me that, a long time since I've been anything but 'King', and it almost feels strange on my tongue. A name makes you a person, a title makes you a ruler.

"You'll be coming back with me to Las Noches, Kurosaki. There we'll see about fitting you into the hierarchy."

I give a small bow of my head, lowering my eyes to the ground.

"Whew! Tha' was somethin'!" A flash of white intrudes on my vision, the other captain settling to the ground next to Aizen. He's holding both of the black cloaks they'd originally had on, the ones that seemed to hide their reiatsu signatures. "Haven' seen a figh' like tha' 'n a long time!"

My King gives a small smile, gaze turning to his companion. "Gin, meet the newest member of our army. This is Kurosaki Ichigo." The other captain, Gin, gives a small wave. "Kurosaki, Gin is my second in command. He is your superior, and you will treat him with all the respect due me, am I understood?"

A snarl builds in my throat, and my lips start to twist to show it. The other captain is weak, not a match for either of us. I'm no stranger to sheltering others under your own strength, but never like this. It is always understood that the weaker hollow has no actual sway. Demanding that I obey someone weaker than me is ridiculous, insulting.

Quite suddenly Aizen has me by the throat, grip tight enough that I have to struggle to draw breath. Survival instincts kick in and I tilt my head back to bare my throat. "Am I understood, Kurosaki?"

A low whine of submission leaves me and I close my eyes, letting myself hang in my King's grip. After a moment he releases me, and I fall to the sand beneath us. I look up at him, and the cold danger in his narrowed eyes prompts an automatic swallow from me. I'd tasted his power firsthand. He could have, by all rights should have, killed me. Gin might be weaker than me, but I'm not playing by hollow rules anymore. If Aizen says Gin is my superior, than he is, at least for now.

I look over at the still grinning Gin, bowing my head a few inches and voicing a quiet, "Sir."

Aizen steps back, the reiatsu pressing down around me letting up. I stay on the ground, carefully meeting my King's eyes. "Can you keep pace, Kurosaki?"

The King in me snarls in indignation at the question, but I stifle the reaction, answering with a small nod. Speed has never been a problem, it's my strongest attribute. And while the injury to my arm is painful, crippling, it's already not nearly as serious a wound as it was, thanks to my regenerative abilities. I won't have any problems keeping up with my King, especially not if Gin is traveling with us.

"Good. Then lets go, shall we?"

He takes off with shunpo, Gin follows, and I speed after them. Sure enough, Aizen isn't moving at nearly the speed he had in our battle, catering to Gin's lesser abilities. It isn't remotely challenging to stay with them.

It isn't more than ten or so minutes before I notice a small mound of white on the horizon. Las Noches. I'd kept an eye on it, as King, on the rare occasions that I'd traveled out this far. Challenges for my title had kept me fairly well fed, and gifts from my followers had supplemented that, but sometimes I simply had to hunt. When I felt that urge, I hunted here.

As we approach, it grows larger, and I realize that the rumors I'd heard of the dome haven't exaggerated its size. In fact, they may have underestimated it. It dwarfs anything I've ever seen, with – maybe – the exception of a few mountains I'd wandered over in the human world when I was younger. It's absolutely massive.

Aizen leads us to the base of the monstrosity, where the white wall towers before us, and Gin and I stop beside him. Aizen lays a single hand against the wall, and it shifts beneath his touch. As if it's all some giant mechanical piece – which it might be for all I know – it restructures itself, pieces folding backwards and in on themselves until there's an archway for us to pass through. There's the same sand on the other side, but sunlight spills out onto the sand. Aizen steps through without hesitation, Gin follows, and I do the same. I blink several times, dipping my head to shield my eyes from the bright light above us. A careful glance up reveals a blue sky, with clouds, and a matching sun hanging in the center.

I can hear the archway close up behind us, and something in me quivers.

I don't like it in here. It feels wrong, fake, clearly recreated by the shinigami in front of me to be more comfortable for him. The sun's light is warm, and it's nice, but I already long for the cool sand behind me and the light of the moon instead. I haven't stepped foot in the human world for years, at the least, it's just too dangerous even for someone of my strength. This place reeks of the same danger.

"Welcome to Las Noches, Kurosaki," Aizen says with a small smirk.

Oh, what a fucking joke that name is.

I can feel power signals scattered around the inside of the dome, hundreds of them. Most aren't enough to interest me, but there are thirteen that are significantly higher than the rest. So, Aizen's made himself a version of the captains. None of them feel like they'd be a threat, but they're only at their base power levels.

There are huge white buildings and towers rising out of the sands, some even connecting to the very top of the 'sky.' But there's still what must be miles and miles of empty sand. It still doesn't alleviate the feeling of being trapped in here.

"Construction isn't completely finished yet," Aizen explains, striding forward across the sands, "but at this point it's just extras that need to be finished. With me."

He takes off, Gin barely a fraction of a second behind him. I hesitate a second, glancing back at the now solid wall, before following them. It's an easy matter to catch up, with Aizen slowing down for Gin, and I stay a little behind the two of them as they move towards one of the larger buildings. It's not even two minutes before Aizen stops before a large double door, shoving it open with a single hand as we come up behind him. It opens into a large empty room, corridors branching off in various directions. He turns back to us, that thin smile still on his face and his brown eyes sharp behind his glasses.

"Gin, if you'd take Kurosaki to one of the healers, please?"

I check in, glancing down at my right arm, and give a little shake of my head. "No point," I intercede before Gin can answer, "it's almost closed." Beneath the layer of dried – and some fresh – blood over my armor, the wound has been reduced to nothing more than a thin scratch. The armor over it is already starting to knit back together, and I can feel the claws on my left hand recreating themselves inside their sheathes.

One of Aizen's eyebrows rises, and he gives my arm a brief glance. "Just to clean off then." His tone doesn't allow for argument, so I lower my gaze in acceptance. Gin steps forward and hands him the two black cloaks before Aizen turns, striding off into the interior of the building, which is all stone in shades of white and grey.

Gin turns to me, that wide grin still on his face. "Sh'll we?" I pause, just long enough to stop myself from snarling at the weaker creature daring to order me around, before following Gin as he moves off in the opposite direction of Aizen. After several long minutes through the strangely empty corridors, Gin speaks over his shoulder.

"Ya don' 'ave ta worry, Kurosaki. Aizen doesn', bu' I know be'er than ta thin' a've got any real control o'er ya. A' only enforce ma' control o'er th' lower ranks."

"Good," I answer bluntly, and Gin laughs.

The lieutenant leads me to a public bathing area, through corridors that are all devoid of people, weirdly enough. It's only a few seconds to sink into one of the pools and wash the blood from my now completely fixed arm, along with the soot on the armor covering my chest. The towel he gives me to dry off is the softest thing I've touched in years, it's kind of strange, and I only use it to get some of the moisture out of my long hair. From there he takes me back through the corridors to a large set of double doors, behind which I can feel ten of the thirteen power signatures I felt earlier, along with Aizen.

"Ready?" Gin asks, and I snort and step forward, shoving the doors open.

I stalk in, my eyes first finding Aizen at the end of the room, at the base of a giant pillar with a throne at the top. From there, I allow my eyes to slip to either side, finding the ten shadowed figures that the signatures belong to. They're on raised sections to either side of the flat area in the center of the room, and they seem to be mostly humanoid looking from what I can see of their silhouettes. I quickly single out the most powerful of them.

He looks almost completely human, apart from the small hole in the center of his chest, and he's dressed in a tight white uniform. I can't pick out the color of his eyes in the shadow, or the shade of his shoulder length hair, but he's staring right back at me with half hooded eyes. I stop in the center of the room, switching my gaze to the second highest. Baraggan, clearly. He's not the skeleton that I'd beaten, but the resemblance is close enough.

The doors swing shut behind me, and Aizen steps forward. Instantly, I refocus on him. Maybe these ten are a threat if they all go at me at once, but I already know that Aizen has the capability to beat me, so I'll always pay him the most attention. He's changed clothes, into another copy of the captain's uniform, and I can only smell the faintest trace of blood on him. He must have been healed, or healed himself, before showing up.

"Espada, this will be your newest member. This is Kurosaki Ichigo."

Reiatsu from the various members of Aizen's army flickers around me, the most pronounced being from Baraggan. Mostly it feels surprised, or inquisitive, but Baraggan's is just irritated. Understandably, he doesn't like me much. Good thing I don't need him to.

"Kurosaki, if you'd kneel please?" It's not really a request, of course.

I sink to my knees as Aizen approaches me, allowing my head to fall just a little bit. To show respect, submission, but high enough to keep my eyes on him. He comes to a stop barely a foot in front of me, with just enough space that my horns won't rake his legs if I raise my head.

"This will hurt, Kurosaki," he warns me, withdrawing a small glowing jewel from somewhere within his uniform. I don't offer any answer.

Pain I can deal with. It's agony to become a hollow, and the years after that were nothing to sneeze at either. Before becoming a Vasto Lorde, before I gained my armor, pain was something I lived with all the time. It's just a fact of life in Hueco Mundo.

He reaches forward, pressing the glowing jewel against my forehead. For a moment nothing happens, and then his power swells, filling the air around us. The jewel's glow intensifies, bright enough that I have to close my eyes against it, and I can feel heat blazing from it. The heat spreads, sliding over my skin like water in a way it shouldn't, and as it spreads it burns. It hurts, but I grit my teeth and bear it.

I hear it before I feel it, a dozen or so cracks, like the snap of a bone. Then the pain catches up to me, and I give a strangled snarl as agony engulfs my hands. It doesn't stop there. The wave of pain slides up my arms and into the rest of me, digging beneath my skin like a living thing as I fight to remain still. It's just pain, that's all. I'm not in danger, I'm not being maimed, my skin isn't being stripped from the bone even if that's definitely what it feels like. It's a burning knife beneath my skin, punctuated by intermittent cracks that wake new spots of agony. My chest, my temples, my feet. It's like everything that isn't the bare skeleton has been stripped from me, torn away and burned in the fire of the jewel's glow.

And then it's gone.

The glow, the heat, and the pain all vanish, and one of my hands comes forward to brace against the ground as I bend forward, panting. I don't do more than breathe as Aizen's reiatsu slips away from me, gathered carefully back into his frame.

"Welcome to the ranks of the Espada, Kurosaki."

I flick my eyes open, looking up at my King. He steps back, looking over his shoulder and flicking his fingers in a beckoning motion at someone. I look back down, narrowing my eyes slightly at the sight of my own hand. The armor and my bone skin is gone, replaced by human flesh. My nails are black, and come forward in sharp points, a poor replacement of my initial claws. A glance at what I can see of the rest of me tells the same story. Tanned skin, no armor. My horns are gone, and the mess of hair that's always fallen down my back, since I was a normal hollow, I can only feel against my neck. I swallow back irritation – isn't being an arrancar supposed to be an improvement? – and look back up as the subject of Aizen's beckons comes into view.

It's a smaller arrancar, carrying some kind of white fabric and all but cowering as he crosses the room. Aizen doesn't pay him any mind, and the arrancar sinks to one knee and places the bundle of fabric in front of me before quickly turning around and leaving. I reach forward and take hold of it, shaking it free to figure out what it is. It's a simple robe, all in white, with a tie around the middle. I fling it around my shoulders, shrugging into it and knotting it closed. The cold doesn't bother me, and being nude doesn't either, but I'll play by their rules.

"Just a substitution until you have a uniform of your own," Aizen explains softly, and I look back up to meet his eyes. He offers me a hand, and pulls me to standing when I take it. I'm a couple inches shorter than him now, forced to look up to meet his eyes, and I'm decently smaller than I was as well. I'm still all muscle, I can feel the strength in my frame, but the transformation has slimmed me down to a lean, flexible build. I'm not sure I like it.

"Normally, new additions to my Espada must earn their place, but there won't be any need for that. You proved your power in our fight," his voice rises, and Aizen raises his gaze to look around the rest of the room, "and no one here is a match for you but me." He looks back down at me, the room in utter silence. "Bow your head, Kurosaki."

I do, letting my head fall forward a few inches as I lower my gaze to the floor. One of Aizen's hands slides across the back of my neck and grips a handful of my hair, firmly pulling my head further down as he steps closer. I fight to keep my hands loose as his other hand comes up, and I feel his reiatsu press against my own. He has the right to touch me as he wants to, he is my superior, my King. One finger of his free hand brushes over the back of my neck, over my spine, in some kind of circular pattern, and where it skims over my skin an itching pain follows. It fades almost immediately, but I still have to restrain a snarl of irritation.

"Hey!" comes a deep yell from behind me, in one corner of the room, and there's a heavy footstep. "That's my rank!"

Aizen releases me, and I raise my head and look over my shoulder. There's a mountain of an arrancar glaring at me, with a caveman forehead and the bottom half of a large bone jaw overlaying his own. He's got small brown eyes, a ponytail jutting out of the back of his otherwise bare head, and orange markings lining his cheekbones. He's also the weakest of the power signatures in the room. There's no way Aizen has placed me at the bottom of the Espada, right? I will not stand for that, regardless of him being my King.

"Not any longer," Aizen says smoothly, and rage fills the Espada's brown eyes. "Kurosaki will be taking your place."

"That's bullshi-"

One of the other occupants of the room steps into motion, appearing before the large Espada with a step of sonido, and driving an elbow back into his stomach. It's a small figure, slender, with almost white skin and large green eyes. He's got messy black hair, falling around his neck and between his eyes, and a half-helmet of bone on the left side of his head with a sharp spine coming off the side of it.

The larger Espada, cut off mid-exclamation, collapses to his knees with a grunt of pain and a loud thud that actually shakes the ground slightly. The smaller, white one, looks down at him, expression completely flat and empty.

"Respect Aizen-sama's decisions, Yami."

"Unnecessary, but appreciated Ulquiorra." Aizen's tone is vaguely amused, but quickly sharpens as he addresses the downed Espada. "You forget, Yami, I am aware of the limits of your strength. From now on we will have eleven Espada. You will keep your rank as ten, but Kurosaki will be replacing you as the permanent zero. Am I understood?" A snap of reiatsu enforces his words, and I find to my surprise that it doesn't even reach my skin. I can feel it, but it doesn't prickle at my skin like most of his power surges.

Yami is trembling in some combination of pain and anger, glaring up at me, but he gives a single nod. "Yes, Aizen-sama."

"Kurosaki, Gin will escort you to retrieve a sword, and a uniform, and then to your quarters. You are welcome to explore as you wish, but I dislike fighting among my subjects, understand?" I bow my head briefly, and he smiles. "Good. Welcome to Las Noches, Kurosaki."

He turns on his heel, sweeping towards the back of the room, and the scattered arrancar – Aizen's 'Espada', clearly – on the raised tiers begin to stand and move towards the large main doors.

Hm, interesting. If there were ten members of the Espada, which I have to assume are the strongest members of Aizen's army, and Yami was both the ten and the zero, then his power must increase pretty drastically somehow to allow him to make that change. So Aizen's given me the highest rank below his own, with the exception of Gin's ceremonious title. Good.

Our fight had been decently even, until he'd gone all the way out to defeat me, and part of that had been him using my surprise to cripple me. But now he's forced my evolution, given me power I hadn't yet obtained on my own. I know enough of the workings of arrancar. They're partly shinigami, and they share the ability to release into a higher level of power, with special abilities. Maybe, Aizen's bitten off more than he can chew.

I take a moment to glance inwards, and flex my hands as a hungry grin slides across my face. My gaze fixes on the back of Aizen's white captain's coat, on the emblazoned five. Give me a few weeks to adjust to this, to figure out all my new abilities out of the sight of my King, and then we'll see.

King, yes. For now.