Got another chapter for you guys. Let's get on with the show!

Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo and Shounen jump. Fairy tail is owned by Hiro Mashima and weekly shounen magazine. I own NOTHING. This is all just for fun!

He was a truly repulsive sight. The pink-haired arrancar had had a predatory handsomeness to him before his transformation, but it was gone now with his twisted change. Once he had released his blade, Fornicaras, he had become something vile and even more dangerous than Nozomi could have anticipated. Four tentacles sprouted from his back, each one with purple little tendrils every two feet or so. He wore what looked like a plain dress, except it looked to be part of his flesh, and its billowing sleeves and folds held the same kind of repulsive tendrils. It was like some deep-sea nightmare, venomous and vile.

His mindless servants stood to the side in anticipation, watching. They need do little else. Nozomi was on her knees, clutching her gut.

"And that's… estomago next, hmm?" said Szayel smugly, his voice quite cheery. He held in his hand a round little box with a set of pills in cheery bright colors. Each one had a word written in Spanish on it. Liver. Kidney. Stomach. Gall bladder. She knew because he had read them out loud to her.

She had let herself get grabbed by one of those tendrils, and through his foul ability, he had created some sort of connection between them, a 'voodoo doll' to control her organs.

"Perhaps that would finally put a stop to you. I've already crushed your liver and one of your kidneys," he said amusedly.

Propping herself up on her blade, Nozomi shut off her pain receptors. Being a mod soul came with its perks. Although her biology was identical to a shinigami's, it was also superior. Most people couldn't control their body functions at will, but she could. It was this, she suspected, that had kept her alive. Although completely under his power, he seemed too interested in her resilience to finish her off.

"You are so very curious," said Szayel amusedly. "Serious internal hemorrhaging ruptured vital organs, yet subject retains approximately fifty-six percent motor function. Appears largely immune to pain. I cannot wait to dissect you, little girl."

"Then you'll have to beat me first, bastard," Nozomi said, trying her best to sound defiant. It came out more like a wheeze, and she knew it.

"Let's try a field test," said Szayel, raising his palm. A cero formed, slowly growing to a very precise, very controlled amount of energy. "Go on. Roll out of the way. I want to see how quickly you can move if you have to."

However, as it fired, Nozomi raised her zanpakutou, crying "Arazome Shigure!"

Her shikai released, the blade absorbed the energy completely, and before Szayel could react, she swung it back at him. The impact knocked her off her feet, but as she struggled to get up, she could see the attack had taken him by surprise entirely. His white dress was singed and burnt, and there was a smell of charred flesh. Lifting himself to his feet with his tentacles, Szayel gave her a vicious glare. He had a blackened mark on his chest, and his hair was unkempt, but he was far from finished.

"I do believe," he hissed, "that I'll have to try a few more tests until you learn your place, shinigami."

Nozomi collapsed, only glad she could not feel the full pain of her crushed organs. She was breathing heavily, forcing herself not to panic. This was a war zone. There was nobody else nearby, and even if there were, it would take somebody of a captain's skill to defeat him-

"Well, well, well," came a cheery voice. Nozomi went from despair to elation in a heartbeat, looking up at the familiar figure. Hat and clogs, green-and-white coat, blond hair- there was nobody she would rather see right now.

"You!" Szayel said, seemingly unsettled. Urahara Kisuke had arrived seemingly out of nowhere; Nozomi assumed it had to be whatever training he had leftover from his days in the stealth corps.

"I think introductions will be unnecessary," he said cheerily. "I've kept tabs on Aizen long enough to know that you're his chief henchman in the science department, and you will undoubtedly have read up on every figure of note if you consider yourself a scientist."

"Urahara Kisuke," Szayel hissed, suddenly sounding cautious. "Oh, yes, I do know you. You're the failed scientist who ran away from your post in Twelfth Division."

"Oh, yes," said Kisuke, "former head of the science department and captain of Twelfth." He turned quickly to Nozomi. "Don't you worry. I'll have this sorted in a minute or two. It'll get scary, but don't lose hope. Okay?"

"O…kay," said Nozomi, perfectly happy to lay back for a little while.

"Now," said Kisuke, positioning himself between Nozomi and Szayel, "you're throwing a bit of a wrench in my schedule. I have important things to do, and the less time and risk invested, the better. Walk away now, and you'll live. Take your pick of the dead for your experiments. I won't stop you. Do as you will, but leave here now."

His voice was carefree and confident, but there was a hard edge under it. Szayel, though, did not seem impressed.

"Leave? You shinigami really are soft-hearted. Does it amuse you to come charging in like the knight in shining armor?"

"Oh, trust me," said Kisuke, "nothing about this has the first thing to do with chivalry. Espada or not, you seem quite dangerous, and today is the culmination of a very, very long time of planning, and I'd rather not fall short because some overambitious, amoral monster playing at science got in a lucky hit."

"If you're so concerned for risk," said Szayel, looking down on Kisuke, speaking slowly as if assessing the man in real-time, "then step aside. I have my prize. It's all I need."

"Unfortunately, she's quite the useful assistant, and it would take a lot of effort to train a new one."

"Enough," said Szayel, lashing out with a tentacle. "Suffer the risk if you're so invested, you fool!"

Kisuke somersaulted over the sweep and dashed back a few paces. Pulling his sword free from its cane sheath, he flung a series of kidou blasts at the arrancar, keeping him on his toes.

Two beastly arrancar lunged at him; two sword cuts and a moment later they collapsed, blood pooling where they fell. Szayel's tentacles shot out, aiming to catch him. All four worked together in deadly tandem, filling up the street. Kisuke dodged and weaved, sailing gracefully through the air. Nozomi's heart pounded, with awe rather than fear this time. As he slid through a narrow opening between two appendages looking to lock him in, casually cutting two of the lesser tentacles off their parent limb, it was clear to her that he was in his element. Kisuke was a brilliant scientist, but by the looks of it he was just as brilliant a fighter.

Landing nimbly on his feet, Kisuke somersaulted over a tentacle limb and rushed forward, weaving left and right to evade a forest of wretched appendages, each one making a grab for him.

"Careful!" Nozomi cried. "Don't let them touch you, not even once!"

Kisuke nodded, too focused to give a direct reply. Szayel was weaving an intricate web of limbs now that Kisuke was taking the offensive, leaving no openings. Kisuke flashed back and forth in a breath-taking display of shunpo, but there were no openings to take advantage of. Nozomi cursed under her breath. He had to find a way. There was no way he wouldn't.

Then suddenly it happened. A limb managed to wrap around his wrist, and Kisuke slammed into the pavement. Before he could free himself he was enveloped fully inside the tentacle. A short while later, he was spat out onto the street. Nozomi's heart skipped a beat, watching on in shock. How… how could this have happened? It had gone so fast, a single mistake happening before anyone could do anything about it. Kisuke stood up, blade in hand, but Szayel already held the doll in hand.

"The great Urahara Kisuke," the arrancar hissed, gleeful triumph in his voice, "my own plaything. Imagine that."

Kisuke raised his sword, moving to charge forward, but Szayel quickly opened the doll and grabbed one of the small pills, crushing it between his fingers. Kisuke gasped, falling to his knees and clutching his chest.

"Don't worry," Szayel said with a chuckle. "You'll survive with just one lung. It's amazing what a shinigami can survive, how little they need to just… function."

"NO!" Nozomi cried tears in her eyes. She reached a hand out, crawling forward. "No, don't hurt him! You can't! Please, stop! Stop, I'll- I'll come with you, and-"

Tears were trailing down her cheeks, and she was stuttering incoherently. Nothing about this was acceptable. It couldn't be real. Kisuke, of all people? This couldn't be happening.

"You're not in any position to negotiate," said Szayel smugly. "You know what else you only need one of? A… kidney."

He crushed another one of the brightly colored pills, and Kisuke let out a grunt, clutching his side.

"STOP!" Nozomi cried. "Stop it, already! You need him alive, don't you?"

"I do," said Szayel. "I'd like nothing more than to study him."

"So, let him live!" Nozomi cried desperately.

"But, he's also very, very dangerous. Even Lord Aizen considers him a risk to his plans. No… I think I'll settle for you, little girl."

He took up another pill, bright red, labeled Corazon. Nozomi could not read Spanish, but she understood it well enough.

"Farewell, Urahara Kisuke," said Szayel. The pill shattered between his fingertips, and Nozomi cried out with grief, cried out with the anguish of somebody losing a loved one. Szayel turned his gaze toward her as if to gloat- but that was when his smile disappeared, and his eyes widened. Nozomi's scream trailed off, and she stared at the arrancar in confusion.

A blade had erupted from his chest, running him through entirely. Behind him stood Urahara Kisuke, holding on to the sword firmly.

"Urahara Kisuke," said Kisuke, "exiled scientist and former officer of the stealth corps."

"Y-you… how?" Szayel said weakly, turning around to look at him. It was over. No matter what his limbs would try to do, he would die before he tried it.

"What makes a fellow dangerous," said Kisuke, "isn't how well they swing a sword, but how they approach battle. That dummy over there?" he said, pointing at the ruined figure on the ground, looking exactly like Kisuke himself. "That's a combat gigai. Modified to look and act just like me if necessary. None of the real tricks, of course, but convincing enough to an arrancar with an incomplete data base. I just needed you to lower your guard for a second, which you were nice enough to do."

"You must understand me," Szayel said eagerly. "I am a scientist like you. All I want is to unlock the mysteries of the universe-"

"Benihime," said Kisuke, and in the next instant there was a spray of blood as Szayel's chest split open. Cut nearly in half, there was a last, wheezing breath as he fell to the ground, quite dead.

"I'm sorry," said Kisuke, wiping the blood from his shikai with a handkerchief before sealing it, "but I really don't have time to listen to your tired, self-serving speech. I hope you understand."

He walked toward Nozomi, who was trembling with pain and emotion.

"It's… it's really you, right?" she asked pleadingly. "You didn't die?"

He kneeled by her side and put a hand on her head.

"I told you it'd get scary," he said, "and I'm sorry about that. But, I had to make sure. I knew what he could do, and I couldn't risk it."

"Of- of course," Nozomi said. "I'm just- I'm just glad you're not… that you came for me."

"Well," said Kisuke, "I couldn't let him do that to my lab partner, could I?" He smiled, and through the pain and terror, Nozomi felt it fade just a little. "Now, are you badly hurt?"

"He crushed some of my organs," she muttered. "I'm… functioning. Not well, though."

He nodded, and gently picked her up in a bridal carry.

"I'm taking you back to the lab," he said. "The field hospital is no place for you. I'll set you up with some painkillers and regeneratives. You'll be back up in no time… although probably not before this is all over."

"But the fight," she protested, "you have this big, important thing to do, don't you? I'll be fine. You don't have a lot of time…"

"I have enough time," he said plainly. With that, he hurried back the way he'd come, toward his labs.

Tatsuki had, on some level, thought she was ready. She had prepared mentally for the idea of her hometown becoming ground zero for a real battle for months now. She had figured that she had been through a lot of battles already, and, well, it would just be on a larger scale, right?

She had always known that would be an oversimplified way to look at it. Running sweaty, tired, and afraid through the streets, running for her life, she only now realized just how wrong that idea had been.

She had seen hordes of arrancar smash into formations of shinigami, and she had heard cries of pain suddenly snuffed out, silenced forever. She had seen the utter chaos and thrown herself into it until the squad she had joined had been killed to a man, and she was the only one left standing. She had crushed the last arrancar in the wave, torn through what was left with relative ease, but it couldn't undo what she had just seen.

Then she had come. A higher class of arrancar had followed behind the chaff, apparently deeming Tatsuki worth the effort. They had fought bitterly, Tatsuki's measured style against the savagery of her opponent. Cirucci Thunderwitch, she had called herself, a former espada displaced by Aizen's recent arrivals and looking to prove herself. Using her staff and superior mobility, Tatsuki had proven to be more than a handful, and eventually, out of frustration, the arrancar had released her zanpakutou.

So, Tatsuki had run, because the sheer range of the arrancar's attacks, now airborne, was beyond her limited range. With Golondrina released, Cirucci resembled some nightmarish hybrid between avian and insect; large, buzzing wings, a feathered mane sprouting from her head, and long, spindly limbs where her arms used to be. The wings sounded like a particularly large, nasty bee was chasing her, and it was terrifying.

Come on, think! Tatsuki thought to herself, jumping away from another swooping dive. There's got to be some way. But, she can fly, and… I can't.

There was something, though. She hadn't popped her power yet, relying on the basics so far. If she could find a way to surprise the arrancar…

But, what good would a burst of speed be against somebody this fast, this mobile, and with wings to boot? Tatsuki leaped aside from another swooping strike, dashed up against a wall and sailed over the arrancar briefly, before landing on the ground with a quick roll and getting to her feet again, resuming her mad dash. As she ran, she realized that even if she couldn't fly… maybe she could still find a way to compensate. In an open plain she would have been well and truly screwed, but this was central Karakura, populated by tall buildings wherever they went. It gave Cirucci less room to move about, and more importantly it gave Tatsuki some options. Sensing Cirucci closing in once more, she took a hard dash to the side.

"Raijin!" she cried, enveloping herself in a sizzling field of yellow lightning energy. She vaulted up in the air, and kicked against the wall, hard. She had only a split second to figure out where Cirucci was, to adjust her direction and aim a punch, and she could only hope she wouldn't run right into those wings…

Thankfully, Cirucci seemed entirely caught off guard by the sudden burst of speed. Tatsuki sailed through the air, slamming a charged punch right into the arrancar's chest. Cirucci gasped, her arms flailing as her wings briefly stopped fluttering in shock. She was thrown to the ground, slamming into the asphalt with Tatsuki landing only a few paces away, fists raised for another go. She closed the distance in an instant, slamming a fist into the arrancar just as she started to rise again. Cirucci tried raising a limb to block, but the long, spindly arms were too awkward to use effectively this close. Tatsuki was inside her guard, hammering her with a series of rapid-fire punches, each one letting loose a discharge of lightning. Tatsuki wasn't thinking much, focusing entirely on the fight, but it seemed easy. Cirucci was no close quarters fighter, it seemed.

However, it could only last so long. A few seconds later, Cirucci managed to gather herself and her wings flickered to life, and with a burst of air she lifted herself back. The wings batted against the ground, and the flight was clumsy and short, but she had put distance between them.

"I think I figured it out," said Tatsuki. "You're not that great at anything when you're not hitting me from afar, or swooping down on me with those claws of yours, are you?"

"You sure got a mouth on you, human," Cirucci sneered. "How long do you think you can keep that little glow running?"

Raijin was flittering a little, and Tatsuki cursed under her breath. The technique was powerful, but it ate up spiritual energy like there was no tomorrow. Her opponent, for her part, seemed to have an abundance, and had probably had a lifetime to perfect using it effectively. This was not a fight Tatsuki could afford to prolong, or she'd collapse of exhaustion before she had any chance of finishing her opponent.

"Come on, then," said Tatsuki. She let Raijin power down to a bare minimum; she couldn't afford to let it run at full power until she needed it. "Show your lord how hard it is to kill a simple human girl. I'm sure that'll impress him."

Cirucci made a face, and hovered in the air, her wings humming something frightful. She made a pass over Tatsuki's head, soaring high into the air before making ready to swoop at her again. Tatsuki held her ground. Running wouldn't do her any good, not anymore. She would have to turn this to her advantage instead. Cirucci would have one opportunity to strike when she came down, and if she missed… she'd be wide open.

Time seemed to slow as Cirucci came at her again, gaining speed. Her long, clawed arms were outstretched, and she had a look of triumph on her face. In her mind's eye, Tatsuki could see those arms hit her, envelop her with their claws impaling her from every direction. One moment. One good hit. She was gambling everything on timing this correctly.

Only at the last second did she focus her lightning aura, letting it flare up to full power. Time seemed to slow even further, and Tatsuki realized it wasn't just a trick of the mind. She hadn't realized it yet, but the technique sped up her reaction speed to such a degree her body didn't quite keep up with her mind. She saw the claws spread out wide, saw as Cirucci came within striking range, arms stretched out. The claws would reach her, grab her, and then…

Now.

In a flash, Tatsuki launched herself into the air, somersaulting over the claw strike and coming down on Cirucci with an axe kick. Her heel slammed into the back of the arrancar's neck, and Cirucci slammed into the street, rock and broken asphalt spraying where she came to a halt. Tatsuki landed, instantly calming the output of her aura; that one attack alone had eaten a lot of her reserves. She estimated she had one, maybe two good hits left in her before she was through.

"Damn… it…" Cirucci snarled, propping herself up. Her hierro seemed to have protected her for the most part, but dust and grime had still scraped against her elegant face. As she started to get to her feet, Tatsuki put her aura on full blast, going in for a charge. She moved like lightning, closing the distance in a near instant. Not a hollow elite for nothing, Cirucci had already managed to stand herself up, albeit on wobbly feet, when Tatsuki started to close the distance.

"Ala Cortadola!" Cirucci snarled, extending her wings like great blades. Tatsuki sailed over the first row of blades and went into a slide under the other, gliding across the street. Cirucci lashed out with her clawed limbs, but her balance was still off and Tatsuki weaved to the side with ease, rolling forward and sliding right inside Cirucci's guard. Making a fist, Tatsuki stood up, channelling all her remaining power into her fist.

Coming in from below with a massive sucker punch, she slammed her fist right into the arrancar's jaw. There was a massive discharge of power, and in the instant her fist hit home, a massive surge of electrical force ran through Cirucci's body. The arrancar was lifted off her feet, and as her aura started to fade, Tatsuki saw her sail through the air in graceful slow motion, her body arching back, wings splayed out…

For a moment, it looked like art.

Then the lightning faded, reality started to work normally, and Tatsuki sank to her feet from exhaustion just as Cirucci hit the ground. Breathing heavily, Tatsuki supported herself on her knuckles, down on all fours while the world spun around her. Her reservoir had been drained almost entirely, and she felt as if she had just run two marathons back to back. She was dangerously low on spiritual power, and if the arrancar was still battle ready in any way, this would be over. Taking a few deep breaths and shaking her head to try and shake the dizziness off, Tatsuki looked up.

She wasn't dead yet, which was a good sign. Pains-takingly, Tatsuki stood up, nearly overbalancing several times. Barely managing not to fall over, Tatsuki blinked and tried to focus. Cirucci was lying still on the ground, twitching a little. Little bursts of lightning still coursed through her, a last few sparks evaporating into the air.

"Did I… do it?" Tatsuki muttered.

To her shock, Cirucci's hand twitched, then shot out to brace against the ground. Spasming lightly, the arrancar managed to prop herself up in a sitting position.

"You… bitch." She snarled. "Will… kill…"

Tatsuki's heart sank. She could barely stand herself. If she got up…

But, then she saw it, at the same time as Cirucci. The arrancar's resurreccion was fading away into nothing. Cirucci had become too weak to even maintain it, and beside her, the battered form of her zanpakutou lay. The arrancar shot her one last hateful look, then fell onto her back, breathing heavily. Tatsuki drew a breath of relief. It looked like she had done enough damage, after all. Neither of them could move, and that… would be good enough for now.

The holographic display flicked once or twice, and Sasakibe thumped the engine with his fist, lightly at first, and then a little harder the second time. It worked, somehow. The image of Karakura as a battleground became stabler, at least for now. It was a little strange, and a little irritating, that Urahara Kisuke's primitive advice on how to operate the device was actually correct.

"There, sir," said Sasakibe. "We should be able to see the battle unfold from here."

The venerable captain-commander had remained in the headquarters to observe and give out orders, directing and redirecting troops, sending in reinforcements where it was needed and ordering retreats where the lines were at risk of being overrun or encircled. So far, their soldiers were holding. Sixth and Fifth Divisions were successfully holding the center, bolstering the demoralized lines of Seventh Division. First and Third were holding the right flanks, whereas Fourth ran support operations. Second and Eleventh both ran specialized combat support, the former in the form of surgical strikes whenever a weakness presented itself, and the latter in the form of brutal counter-attacks or reinforcements to whichever lines needed them most. Every division was doing their part, directed by the captain-commander's vision. Thousands of shinigami, clashing with hundreds of arrancar… this was a battle that would echo through the ages, the greatest single combat the Gotei had seen since the quincy wars. Sasakibe quietly tried to recall any single battle with the quincies that had been this fierce.

Of course, this was further complicated by the fact that they fought in the middle of a human-populated area. Dozens of bystanders had died already, and the humans were fleeing the battleground in droves, panicked and confused. Buildings were being severely damaged, sometimes leveled. Even if they were triumphant, this would be a nightmare to smooth over with mortal authorities.

Yet, these concerns felt secondary, distant even, compared to the intensity of combat. The very fate of the Gotei was at stake, and this battle… Sasakibe could not help but have mixed feelings. The operation into Hueco Mundo had been a disaster, yet at the same time, the battle was unfolding in their favour- for now. Yet, Aizen was out there, enacting his plan…

"Speak plainly, Sasakibe," said Yamamoto gruffly.

"I said nothing, captain-commander," said Sasakibe firmly. "The battle goes as planned, under your direction."

"You need not say it," said Yamamoto dismissively, his hands clasped over his cane as he stared out at the holographic map. There was the outline of the city, abruptly cut off where the map ended. There were the streets, the buildings, the rooftops, and thousands of little blue dots clashing with little red dots. Some dots were larger than the others, signifying captains and higher-ranking arrancar. Sasakibe found it hard to look as the dots faded away, one by one.

"It is written in your face. 'Why does he not intervene? Why does he wait here? Why does he hide in his hall after the folly in Hueco Mundo, after throwing away so many lives for nothing?' I've seen it written in all your faces. I do not blame these sentiments at all."

"I would never, captain-commander!" Sasakibe exclaimed, the words all but exploding from his mouth. "I know better, sir. I know the extents of your power, and I have never doubted your wisdom. You may think you have erred, sir, but I have faith in your wisdom and your power!"

"Do you?" said Yamamoto, turning to look at him. Muttering under his breath, he said, "More the fool you then, perhaps."

"Sir," Sasakibe said, struggling to keep his tone at a professional level of calm, "if you were to intervene directly, our own people would die in droves. Your blade is not a weapon suited for combat near any of your allies. I know and understand this. So do your captains. So do your soldiers, sir. And, if you went out there, then what? It would escalate the battle. Aizen's hand would be forced. He would be made to reveal whatever ace he has up his sleeve. Or it would lead him to create yet another distraction, another deceit. No, captain-commander, you must not intervene until it is absolutely necessary!"

"Of course, Sasakibe," said Yamamoto calmly. "Yes. You are right, naturally. Yet…"

"There is no room for doubt or hesitation, sir. I know it, and so do you."

"Of course." The old man turned to stare at his vice-captain. "You have been a good aide to me all these years. I… could not have asked for better."

"…Thank you, sir," said Sasakibe uneasily. He felt as if the old man was saying his goodbyes. He had never seen him like this before. He had served the man faithfully for centuries, and he had never once known Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryuusai to doubt himself or to act as if he might die. What was the world coming to?

"All that aside," said Yamamoto, "I am sure there is something that concerns you in particular."

"…the ritual, sir," Sasakibe admitted uneasily. "If it is completed…"

"I took the time to study Urahara Kisuke's notes on the matter," said Yamamoto gruffly, "and I consulted our best kidou specialists. To enact a spell of that magnitude would be intensely complex. It might take hours to complete. We will monitor the energy readings Aizen puts out, and intervene when necessary. If the arrogant young fool expects that simply throwing his armies at us haphazardly will be distraction enough, he is sorely mistaken."

Sasakibe nodded. "We are holding, sir, but it's by a thread. If we lose too many at once…"

Yamamoto nodded. If they went below a critical level of shinigami, the flow of souls between worlds would be disrupted. They had lost a thousand men to Hueco Mundo already, and if they lost a thousand more, they'd be at half strength. How many more could they stand to lose before his hand was forced?

Uryu's arm was starting to grow weary. Although he had no love for the shinigami, it had suited him fine to take position on a building near the central battle-line, charging his arrows and picking off one arrancar after another with precise, high-powered shots. He had counted to twenty-one dead before he had attracted the attention of two more potent enemies. They looked like handsome young men both, one with dark hair and what looked like the skull of a sabre-toothed cat for a mask fragment, the other with long, fair hair and a thin sliver of bone covering his right eye-socket, a slit of yellow in the place of an eye. Ggio Vega and Findor Carias: that was how they had introduced themselves.

Both of them, naturally, were close-combat specialists with speed to spare, the worst type Uryu could have asked for. He had been forced to fire wildly, retreating every which way across Karakura's rooftops. One-on-one he might have handled it, but with two powerful arrancar on his tail, there was hardly ever an opening.

Uryu somersaulted over a sideways swipe from Findor, instantly bending backward in anticipation of the follow-up thrust he knew was coming. The stab passed over his face, but Uryu was already moving, spinning through the air, narrowly avoiding an axe kick from Ggio. He had fired off a hail of arrows before he landed on his feet again, and this close, he knew they couldn't have missed. Sure enough, Ggio was knocked back with a few new holes in his jacket- but Findor was already on him. Uryu weaved left and right, evading stabs coming at him like bolts of lightning, before kicking the arrancar in the chest. He channelled the blut arterie through his body as he did so, and his foot connected explosively with Findor's torso. The arrancar was thrown back in surprise, the breath momentarily taken out of him. Uryu was already aiming his bow at Ggio, the momentary reprieve allowing him to fire off a massive burst of arrows with more accuracy. The cat-like arrancar was already charging him, of course, but Uryu took a step of hirenkyaku to the side, resuming fire the moment he had an angle. One hit, two hits, three hits; Ggio was taken aback and sent sprawling across the rooftop. The hits would not be powerful enough to do a lot of damage, but they did pin him down for a moment.

However, a moment was more time than Uryu had. An out-of-breath Findor was already coming at him, blade swinging wildly, and Uryu was forced to relent, once again dodging attacks that could each one be fatal.

No great deed is ever easy. It was one of the many wisdoms Haschwalth had passed down to him. If there was ever a baptism of fire, this was it. More than ever, Uryu appreciated the quincy emphasis on speed and skill- he had been keeping up with two high-level arrancar, who had not yet landed a hit on him.

Speak of the devil- no sooner had the thought slipped by him than Findor pushed him just a little too hard, Uryu lost his balance, and a sweeping blow came in that he knew he couldn't dodge. Stumbling back, Uryu instinctively raised an arm. The blade struck his arm, but to Findor's surprise, it stopped there, clattering off his skin as it if had struck steel.

"…What?" said the arrancar, baffled.

"Blut vene," Uryu said. Raising his bow quickly, he fired a high-powered shot, striking the blond arrancar in the chest. Findor let out a gasp, stumbling away and falling on his back, a red stain dying his white jacket.

Uryu looked at his arm. A stylized, lightning-shaped pattern emerged across his skin where the blow had been turned away. That had been dangerous. The technique was far from perfected, and a single misstep could have ruined him.

"Well, I'll be damned," said Ggio, slowly circling round. "He got me pretty good, and then he went and shot you, too, Findor. I figured he was just some human we had to deal with before we could advance the battle, and we can't even catch him between the both of us."

Findor got to his feet, clutching his chest. "I did hit him," he said irritably, "but… it didn't do anything."

"I am Ishida Uryu," said Uryu, "the last of the quincies in Japan, and this is my home. If you want easy prey, you'll have to look elsewhere."

"He's got guts, I'll give him that," said Findor with a smirk.

"A quincy, huh…" said Ggio. "I thought they were all dead, or something. Didn't the shinigami exterminate your kind?"

"Not all of us," said Uryu defiantly.

"And here you are, fighting their war for them," said Ggio, his brows furrowed with curiosity. "Are you sure you're on the right side, kid?"

"Like I said," Uryu repeated, "this is my home. I don't choose where the shinigami make their wars. War is here, on my doorstep, and… well, quincies exist to destroy your kind. It doesn't need to be any harder than that."

"I can respect that," said Ggio, casually spinning his blade around. "I'd grill you a little more, but I don't like wasting time. Findor?"

"Yes?" said the blond arrancar.

"All out. Both of us, now."

"Are you serious?" said Findor, a little incredulous. "We only just warmed up, and it's one human."

"This is the battle, of the war," said Ggio, "and this is one human we have landed all of one hit on. Take it seriously, or we'll falter."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Findor muttered. "Alright…"

Both of their reiatsu started rising, and Uryu knew what was coming. He had been ready for an attack at any moment, for the arrancar to stop playing around and lash out. He had run through a number of moves in his head while they talked, a number of different scenarios and angles of attack. Unfortunately, they had decided to take him seriously.

"Engrave the surface of the water, Pinza Aguda," Findor called.

"Bite off, Tigre Estoque," Ggio called.

Neither of the arrancar transformed in any drastic manner, remaining the same size as before. Findor was wrapped in a large, long set of chitinous bone plates running from his chest and down over his legs. A massive crustacean claw in place of his right hand was the most noticeable difference from before.

Ggio, for his part, hadn't changed much at all in terms of appearance. His mask fragment remained the same, and a long, black-and-yellow ponytail hung from his head. Two short blades extended from his forearms past his hands, and his sleeves and pants were lined with fur. Despite the lack of a dramatic change, Uryu knew better than to underestimate them- if anything it made them more dangerous, because the more advanced the hollow, the less monstrous they would seem.

Uryu had already started running the moment they started to release their blades. By the time they stood there full transformed, he had already cleared a distance of a hundred yards. Findor, whose chest had healed, reeled back as another arrow slammed into his armoured chest. To his surprise, the arrow cut through the plating, cracking it where it hit, fresh blood seeping from a new injury.

"Are you kidding me," Findor muttered, his lips curling into a sneer. The two arrancar scattered as a hail of arrows came down, shredding the roof they had stood on.

"I'll catch up and pin him down," Ggio said. "Get in position. I'll create an opening. Quincy or not, he's still only human. He can't lose an arm and just keep going like those damn shinigami."

"You sure you can keep up?" Findor muttered, staring at the quincy, already starting to become a dot on the periphery of their vision.

"Please," said Ggio with a grin, and landing on the ruined roof, he jumped off with incredible speed. Findor smiled, and jumped after. He had forgotten just how fast his feline ally was.

Uryu was firing one concentrated arrow after another on the run, but only one had hit home yet, and the arrancar hadn't even slowed down. Ggio Vega, in his resurreccion, was as fast as Uryu, and almost as precise in his movements. Every moment Uryu took to fire slowed him down just a fraction, and that fraction was all Ggio needed to start closing the distance. Uryu cursed. The only upside- if it could be called that- was that Findor was lagging behind. Leaping from roof to roof, Uryu tried to think. He could hurt them, but he needed to hit them to do so, and at this velocity, against such opponents, that was easier said than done. Thinking quickly, he made a decision.

Transformed, Ggio Vega was too fast to hit easily, and too strong to be taken down by a single arrow unless Uryu somehow scored the mother of all critical hits. He had to find a way to target down either Ggio or Findor, and then focus on the second one. Firing at a steady pace with precise shots, he slowed down just a little, as if tiring. Ggio started closing the distance quickly, and Uryu fired as he went. Each shot was weaker than the ones he'd fired before, much weaker- but Ggio would never know, because Uryu was deliberately missing each one. Meanwhile, he was storing more and more power in the wrist of the hand holding his bow. He could feel the energy chafing at his skin, the particles revolting against this forceful concentration of power, but he didn't need to keep it up for long.

One hundred meters. Seventy meters. Fifty meters. Thirty meters. With Ggio closing in, with but a second to spare, Uryu pulled back the string and let the energy he'd stored charge into one arrow, glowing bright with power. Hollering with glee, the excitement of battle getting to him, Ggio was catching up, blades raised to strike. As he came in close, Uryu dashed to the side, narrowly evading a dual set of strikes. Sailing through the air, he aimed his bow straight at Ggio. Ready to let the arrow fly, he released the string, and-

And, Ggio was gone.

"Good try, kid."

Uryu spun around, reeling back as a blade raked across his chest. His blut activated, protecting him from the worst of it, but he was thrown onto a rooftop. Ggio followed after, a confident smirk on his face.

"Good trick," he said, "but man, imagine putting that much power into an attack and missing-"

His eyes went wide and he sank to his knees, blood spreading from a freshly formed hole in his chest.

"Guided flight," said Uryu. "What? You thought I'd leave an attack like that up to chance?"

Ggio grit his teeth, but Uryu was already moving, knowing he had but seconds to deal with the next threat. Although not quite as fast as his companion, Findor was hot on their heels. Uryu dashed to meet him, firing as he went. Findor raised his claw to block, relishing the chance to come in close.

"Are you that eager to die, quincy?" He said mockingly, lashing out with his crustacean claw as he came within striking range. Uryu dashed out of the way, reappearing on a nearby rooftop. Findor spun around just in time to take another charged arrow to his armour.

"It's funny," said Uryu, "but I don't think transforming was in your best interest."

"You think so, huh?" said Findor, aiming his claw toward the rooftop. "Tijeras Neptunea."

A huge burst of water surged forward, and Uryu moved. The rooftop where Uryu had been a moment ago burst, a splash of water following a wave of total devastation.

"That's impressive destructive power," said Uryu, re-appearing near Findor, firing another arrow. The arrancar brought up his claw, absorbing the hit with his thick carapace. "But, you've grown slower. My arrows can hurt you. I've already cracked your armour. That transformation, Findor Carias, was a mistake."

"You sure are full of yourself," said Findor, throwing a glance toward where Ggio had been. "I don't know how you took down Ggio, but I'm a lot harder to kill than he is."

Suddenly, Uryu stood right behind him. "Are you sure about that?"

Findor lashed out with his claw, but Uryu was already gone. Another arrow struck Findor in the chest where the chitinous carapace had already been breached, cracking it further.

"You little bastard," Findor growled, lashing out with his claw. "Tijeras Neptunea!"

The aquatic shockwave struck air as Uryu was already gone, and the next moment another arrow hit home, then another, then another, the young quincy appearing in a new position each time. Findor dashed after to chase, but Uryu was always where he was not, always just out of claw's reach. Finally, an arrow embedded straight in Findor's chest where the armour had cracked when Uryu came in from above with a precise shot. The arrancar grunted, reeling back.

"I told you," said Uryu, "you may have become tougher, but you traded for it in speed. Quincy craft is all about precision, and no armour is without its cracks."

"You son of a bitch!" snarled Findor, lashing out with another water blast. No sooner had he complete the motion than a hail of arrows slammed into his back. When he turned around to attack back, Uryu fired a charged shot, again into the arrancar's chest. Findor's face went pale from shock for a second, and he tumbled down from where he had stood in the air, barely catching himself on a rooftop. Before he could right himself, another shot struck him, then another, then another. He was struck in the neck, in the legs, in the shoulder. Findor fell to his knees, breathing heavily. A final shot struck him in the chest, and the arrancar collapsed. Uryu took a deep breath. One down-

-and then there was pain.

Uryu found himself thrown down onto the same rooftop, feeling like his back had been split open. He impacted with the ground, his vision blurred as his body was shaken, and not a moment later, a boot was planted on his back, keeping him pinned. Part of the boot ground into the fresh wound in his back, and Uryu screamed out loud with pain. Blut vene needed to be consciously activated, and he had not seen the attack coming, had not prepared for it. Desperately, he tried to form the shape of his bow, anything to avoid lying there helpless.

"I'll give you props, you little quincy bastard." hissed Ggio, grabbing Uryu by the hair and yanking his head up, "You're a lot better than I thought. Just not as good as you thought, if you figured I was finished from just the one hit."

Uryu could feel a blade pressed against his throat, and knew that it was over. He had come so far, worked so hard, trained until he'd bled, and now he was going to die alone. If this was what a heroic death looked like, it was not what he had expected. The bow formed in his hand, but what was he going to do? Draw the string with one hand and fire at an enemy pinning him down? He was barely keeping himself conscious.

"Nice try," said Ggio, and Uryu could feel the blade retract, could sense the arrancar raising a hand for that final stab. "I like it, even. But, this is the end of the road for you."

"You think so?"

"I would advise you to let him go, Mr. Arrancar."

Uryu, who had only just started to sink into despair, was violently ripped out of the depths he had started to fall into. The voices were unmistakable. The first was crude, direct, cheery. The second was polite, gentle, but firm. Bambietta. Meninas.

Ggio looked up, his hand frozen in position. Two more quincies had appeared, wearing plated armor, and both of them carried bows, charged, ready, and trained at his head. One had black hair and a fierce expression, the other looking far more solemn. They both occupied opposite sides of the rooftop, staring him down some three yards away each.

"Well, damn," he muttered. "How many of you are there?"

"Non'ya business, dipshit," said the black-haired one.

"Let him go now," said the solemn one, "or we'll have to kill you."

"If I do let him go," said Ggio carefully, "you'll kill me anyway. Why wouldn't you?"

"Smart cookie, ain't he?" said the black-haired one with a grin, seeming to revel in the situation.

"I'll explain," said the solemn one. "We are under strict orders to not engage in direct hostilities with anyone on this battlefield unless absolutely necessary. We do not seek your demise. All we want is the young man bleeding under your feet. He is our responsibility."

"So, essentially, if you're going to keep on being stubborn, you'll make my day," said the black-haired quincy. "I hate hollows almost as much as I love some good, old-fashioned violence, so that'd be two birds with one stone."

"Really, now?" said Ggio. "Then all the more reason I shouldn't give him to you. No matter how fast you are, I could cut his throat before you could react."

"That so?" said the black-haired quincy. A moment later she stood behind him, the bow replaced with a sword. Its edge rested against his cheek, drawing just a little blood. The mere touch of it seemed to ignore his hierro. Hell, he hadn't even sensed her move. Who was he dealing with here?

"Bambi!" cried the solemn one.

"I'm making sure the message hits home," said Bambi. "Listen here, fuckface: this can end in you dead, or you alive. The only reason I haven't cut your head off is that I'm not allowed. You may think you're fast, but the moment your arm starts coming down, it comes off your body, and then your head'll follow before it's even hit the ground. That's a fact, sure as governments taxing you."

"Er… I don't think he'll get that reference," said the solemn one.

"I… think I get the gist," said Ggio, feeling a bead of sweat trail down his forehead, "but then again, if you thought this would solve the problem, you'd have killed me already, and you'd be telling your boss there was no other choice. In other words, you're not sure you're fast enough. Not sure enough to try, at least. So, this is a standoff, as far as I'm concerned."

"You know, you hollow assholes are always such sly pricks," Bambi muttered, "but we don't have time to waste. Eventually, I'll make my move anyway, and then we'll just find out if I'm good enough."

"Or maybe I'll make my move first," snarled Ggio, "and then maybe I'll die knowing I at least denied you your prize!"

"You little bastard," Bambi growled, keeping her hand steady.

"Make them… swear…" Uryu wheezed, forcing himself to focus, "swear on… their honor."

"Shut up!" Ggio growled. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"Honor… bound…" Uryu managed. "Quincies… live by their honor. Can't go against it. If they give their word… as knights… then they will keep it."

"I'm supposed to just trust that?" said Ggio frustratedly.

"No… choice," Uryu said, panting with pain.

Ggio cast a glance at Bambi, then at the other quincy. He did not want to die. Deep down in his hollow brain, the urge to survive no matter what was the strongest instinct he had. If there was a chance…

What did he have to lose? Except, well, everything?

"Do you swear?!" he snarled loudly, looking back and forth between both quincies. "Do you swear on your honor you'll let me go? As quincies, or whatever?"

"I so swear," said the solemn one, quite seriously.

"I do so swear," said Bambi, a little reluctantly. "But, if you try anything dirty…"

"Then I'm dead meat, I got it," Ggio said. "First things first: back off. Both of you! You back off, and I'll back off him. Got it?"

The solemn one nodded at her companion, who slowly lowered her blade. After she had taken a few steps back, Ggio stood up, expecting to get run through any second, and took a step back. He turned to look at them both.

"The fuck you waiting for, you chicken fuck?" growled Bambi. "Take your boyfriend and get outta here before we change our minds!"

Hurriedly, Ggio walked over to Findor, never taking his eyes off the quincies, and picked up his unconscious companion. Without wasting another second, he jumped off the building, eager to getaway.

Meninas was already at Uryu's side, inspecting the wound while Bambi stared longingly at the fleeing arrancar.

"You… came," Uryu said, lying face down on the rooftop. His white coat, torn in the back, was quickly growing red.

"Yeah, well," Bambi muttered, "rules are meant to be broken. You think I'm going to put all that effort into you just so you can go and die like a bitch?"

Uryu laughed, despite the pain.

"Please, be still," said Meninas. "It's a relatively shallow cut, but you've lost a lot of blood. I'm going to try to stabilize you, and then we're taking you somewhere safe."

Uryu lay there still, taking long, deep breaths to handle the pain. Physical discomfort aside, he felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. He had been so close to handling the situation on his own, but ultimately, he had failed. The fate of Karakura was now outside of his control, left in the hands of the shinigami.

God help them all, he thought to himself.

The thunderous charge rocked the city streets as Neliel came ever closer, lance raised. Kenpachi's energy was flaring uncontrollably. The ground around him was cracking under the pressure of the two god-like warriors clashing. Kenpachi had been forced on the defensive, and he was fighting not just his enemy, but the unwelcome, bitter sensation of anger. He hated the situation. He hated having to be the passive receiver, the defender. He hated being forced to think about his next move, hated having to move away from the purity of bloodthirsty instinct. What kept him going now was a stubborn desire to not be bested again, to not be denied the one thing his life had centered around so far: the sheer joy of combat. Pain and death had always been the price for his way of life, and until now, he had been happy to pay it. But now, faced with an opponent he couldn't just lay into, the price had suddenly become much steeper than before.

With an agility that would have surprised most, he rolled out of the way of the charge, quickly got to his feet again, and parried a sideways swipe from Neliel's lance. The blow rocked him, but he held firm and pushed back. Holding the blade in both hands, he struck her once, twice, pushing the advantage. Up close, the lance was little more than an oversized club, clumsy and near useless. But, of course, like the last three times she had tried it, she elegantly danced back on her hooves, out of striking distance. Snarling, Kenpachi charged at her, but a step of sonido put enough distance between them that Kenpachi knew another charge was coming.

She was something of a one-trick pony; everything rested on that charge. If it hit home, even indirectly, it would do tremendous damage; if not, it left her open for a counter-attack. It was just a shame that it was a good damn trick.

The problem, he realized, was that he was a one-trick pony, too. If he'd known his shunpo, like any other shinigami, this would have been a lot easier. He could have pursued when he evaded a charge and countered. He could have moved out of the way more easily, instead of waiting to the last possible second, nearly getting skewered each time. All he had was his sword, his raw power and his warrior's senses. It was all he had ever needed up till this point.

Thinking about it- an exercise that felt slow and unfamiliar to him- he wondered what he could do. Charge? Take the initiative himself? It just made focusing harder. The sheer impact of just one hit had nearly finished him last time. Neliel hit like a truck, and then some. Anyone without his stamina would die instantly.

There was the clopping of her hooves again, as the centaur-like espada quickly closed the distance with the tip of her lance raised. Kenpachi narrowed his eyes. Fuck it. Fuck evading, and fuck defending. This would hurt, but hurting was one thing he knew how to do. As Neliel closed the distance, galloping across the street with furious power and murderous intent, he kept perfectly still, holding his blade down and pointed to the right. Then, just as she came in for the finishing blow, he moved his right foot, pushing himself left, holding on to the blade only with his left hand.

The next moment he was on his back, tasting blood in his mouth. The shock of the impact was catching up to him, and he forced a couple of deep breaths to control the pain, forcing himself to stand up on wobbling legs.

The lance had glanced his ribcage, ripping open a nasty gash in his side and cracking more than a couple of ribs, and his right arm was very, very sore. Hot, fresh blood poured down his side.

Neliel, for her part, had a line of red bleeding copiously down her own side. Although his swing had been one-handed, the sheer force of her momentum had helped him cut deep, straight through her hierro. She too stood on unsteady legs, staring him down with hate in her eyes.

"You really are a mad dog," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Come on, girl," Kenpachi said, flinging the blood off his blade. "Do it again. Let's see which one of us falls first when we trade, blow for blow."

"You're just going to gamble your life, seeing which one of us dies first?" said Neliel.

"Don't see no better way," said Kenpachi with a shrug. "Besides, it seems I got you pretty good already. Think you can take another one of those hits?"

Neliel's grip on the lance tightened. "You think you understand pain and sacrifice, don't you?"

"I understand one of 'em."

"I am a hollow," said Neliel. "I rose through the ranks the hard way. Your mad dog shtick might scare a lesser opponent, but I know. You are like one of us, Zaraki Kenpachi, like the worst of us, except you've lived the soft life of a shinigami. If this is your challenge, I'll rise to it."

"Good," said Kenpachi, pointing his blade at her. "So, get running. Let's see if you can nail me this time."

Limping slightly, Neliel turned around and galloped away, stopping some forty yards away. She reared on her hind legs, raised the lance high, and then lowered it as she broke into a gallop. Kenpachi took his blade in both hands, pointing its tip back and away from him, braced himself, and waited.

Reacting. Timing his attacks. What a shitty way to fight. Nevertheless…

Time slowed. There she was, lance aimed at his chest, thundering right at him. There he was, still as a statue until the last moment, where he jumped into the air, blade sweeping out in a wide arc. It was a gamble. If she stayed her course and hit dead on, she might run him through, but he might still have the reach to take her head. Or, he wouldn't, and he'd just have taken the hit for nothing, and the battle would be done.

However, Neliel chose neither of the options. As he leaped, she whipped her lance around with surprising agility, knocking aside his blade. The lance missed, and so did Kenpachi's strike. Unfortunately, her momentum did not slow one bit, and Kenpachi was slammed into the ground by her centaur-like body, sharp hooves goring him as she ran him over. However, this was nowhere near the catastrophic damage her lance would have done, and Kenpachi, thrown around like a ragdoll, turned his momentum into a diving roll, getting to his feet with surprising agility. Screaming out a battle-cry at the top of his lungs, he charged, barely keeping his balance. Neliel, still recovering from her own momentum, made the mistake of parrying instead of running away. Her lance caught his blade, but he was inside her guard now, cutting at her furiously. She gracefully stepped over a swipe aimed at her forelegs, parried another with her lance, but she was being overwhelmed.

Panicking, she lashed out with her lance like it were a club. Kenpachi caught the blunt weapon with his forearm, even though it hurt something fierce, and brought down his sword. The blade raked across her chest, and Neliel staggered back with a gurgle of pain, blood splattering onto the street. She was not an espada for nothing, though; as Kenpachi raised his blade to follow up his attack, she thrust a palm forward, a fully charged cero blasting right at the savage captain. Kenpachi was very tempted to just run right into it, to take the damage and follow through, but thought better of it at the last second, rolling out of the way. A few precious seconds bought, Neliel skipped back a few paces and lunged at him just as he came up on his feet.

With instincts honed from a thousand battles, Kenpachi caught the lance head on, narrowly avoiding being skewered, but Neliel was not going to let the last sequence repeat. Skipping forward with her forelegs raised, her hooves slammed at him wildly. Kenpachi, still recovering from the blow, lashed out wildly, but a hoof connected with his skull. Seeing stars, he staggered back, momentarily stunned. Once more Neliel skipped back, a little further this time. Her eyes focused, filled with anger, she raised a hand. A cero was forming in it, bright blue, and although Kenpachi was no expert, it was clear this was something more than the average type.

"This how you wanna play it?" he said, wobbling out into the middle of the street, his grip on his sword weak. "You wanna just blast me away?"

"What, because it's dishonourable?" Neliel scoffed, her eyes wide with anger. "Because it's unfair?"

"Because if that's what you wanted to do, why'd you ever come at me with a lance?" said Kenpachi, and for the first time since the battle started, he smiled. He was figuring it out. A little, at least. "You got your pride, too, don't you? You want this settled properly."

"You wouldn't be begging me not to if you weren't so weakened already," she said cautiously. "Why would I give up an advantage like this?"

"Because you believe in something more," he said, resting the blade on his shoulder. If he was hit, he might not die, but it would be bad enough that she would at the very least have an opening for a solid hit, and that would definitely be it. "And, because if you fire it, people will die. Humans."

"As if you care."

"War's war," Kenpachi admitted. "People die. What can ya do? But, you care. You got that same look about you. Somebody who fights to end battles, not to keep them going. Now, are you going to raise that lance on me, or are you going to fire? 'Cause I'm getting sick of talking about it."

Neliel's angered expression wavered, doubt wracking her. The blue cero in her hand started to fade, until the shimmer died away entirely.

"'Atta girl," said Kenpachi with an approving nod.

"Let's just finish this," said Neliel, raising her lance. As she reared to surge forward, Kenpachi took a stance. Neither of them could keep this up much longer. She had lost a lot of blood, and he couldn't take hits like those. It would all come down to this one, last charge.

There was the taga-dam, taga-dam of hooves clopping against broken asphalt, there was the furiously determined expression on her face, the red of her blood against the white of her uniform, the dust in the air, the urban landscape behind them… it all came together into one beautiful picture as she surged toward him. Kenpachi held his ground, raising his blade.

She slammed into him, lance raised. Kenpachi did not jump or dodge this time. Instead, he brought his sword down in just the right instant. A second later he was thrown to the ground by the impact once more, and Neliel staggered forward, her momentum broken. She turned around, and as Kenpachi sat up, vision dizzy, he saw he had succeeded. A fresh cut, from shoulder to hip, dominated Neliel's frame. Her lance was broken in twain, the ruined bone weapon slipping from her hands. Breathing heavily, in shock, she sank down to her knees.

As Kenpachi tried standing up, he realized he hadn't been as successful as he'd thought. The other half of her lance was lodged in his chest, having run him through entirely. He had cut through her, through her weapon, but the thrust of her weapon could not be stopped.

"Forgive me… Lord Aizen…" Neliel wheezed, staring up at the sky.

"To hell with that," Kenpachi muttered, forcing himself to stand. He leaned against a half-ruined building wall. "If he can't see the worth of a fight like that then he's not worth following. Besides… I don't think I'm going anywhere any time soon."

"You're still standing," she said, turning her eye to him. He knew what she meant, could hear it in her tone. You could kill me. Victory is still yours.

"Only just about," he said sullenly. "Hell, I…"

And with that, he fell down again into a sitting position. He hadn't realized how hard she hit. What a woman! What a battle! It had been different, hard, but… he'd figured it out. Somehow.

Not far away, a little girl with bright pink hair sat, watching the giant of a man sit there and quietly bleed. It was a familiar enough sight. Yachiru had seen Kenpachi bleed across a hundred battlefields, seen him almost die more times than she could count. But, it was different this time, somehow. Perhaps- and she hoped very badly this wasn't just wishful thinking- his state of mind had led him somewhere new.

She jumped down from her perch, sighing. Time to do what she always did, and bring him in for healing.

With Arashi-Raijin's twin claws in her hands, Lisanna pushed her advantage. She had taken the decimo seriously, and she had so far been rewarded. The creature was relatively clumsy with a blade, and Lisanna's graceful movements had been enough to avoid a hit so far. She dodged under a wide sweep from his blade, dashing forward immediately with both claws raised to strike. Aaroniero stepped back to evade, but she was too close. His blade came in to parry, but her left hand caught the blade, twisting it aside between the claws strapped to her hands, while her right surged forward, biting into his flesh. She did not cut deep, but she did not have to. One with her zanpakutou's spirit, her will became reality as her spiritual energy channeled into her right arm, transforming into lightning at her call. Aaroniero twisted and cramped, staggering back from the shock.

Lisanna pressed on, determined not to give him the time to recover. He was remarkably resilient, she thought to herself; her lightning would easily have fried any lesser hollow, but his physique had withstood the attack. He was bleeding and sizzling with smoke at the same time, but he was alive.

Aaroniero lashed out with his blade, still reeling, but Lisanna rolled under the attack with ease and closed the gap. A cero was charging in his off-hand, but Lisanna would not give him the time to discharge it. She raised her left hand, lashing out before she was close enough to strike. A gust of wind struck the arrancar, keeping him off balance. More lightning channeled into her right arm, and she cried out loudly, raising her hand to strike.

Then, the world went red for a second. The cero had continued to charge, and suddenly fired- but rather than the controlled burst it usually discharged with, it exploded in his hand, sending them both flying. Lisanna's lightning shot out into nothing, discharging into the sky and dissipating harmlessly, and she was thrown off her feet and into the side of a building. A wall broke her fall, quite literally as it cracked badly where she impacted. She had the air knocked out of her lungs, and fell to the pavement with a heavy 'thud'. Her head spinning and her ears ringing, she forced herself to stand, to collect herself and keep fighting before he could retaliate. Every second spent off balance burned in her like a red alert, her combat senses screaming at her, Get up get up get up!

Once she stood, though, she realized she needn't have worried. Aaroniero was only just now standing up, and his left hand was burnt to a stump. The two skulls in the tank he had for a head were, surprisingly, whole and unharmed; he had to have aimed the blast away at the last second.

"Tell me," said Lisanna coldly, advancing toward him on unsteady legs, "was that an accident, or are you just getting that desperate?"

"Sacrificing a limb," said the espada's hollow voice, reverberating across the street, "is a small price to pay for the opening one needs."

His arm burnt and sleeve shredded, Lisanna could see he did not have an arm at all, but rather a writhing mass of tentacles. It occurred to her that she had not seen the skin of his arms at all, only the gloves and sleeves. What sort of cobbled-together monstrosity was he?

"Devour," cried the espada, and the sleeve of his other coat arm ripped as well, revealing a mass of tentacles in the place of an arm, "Glotonería!"

It looked like she was about to find out.

Jellal Fernandes had thrown himself at Karakura dutifully, his fracciones scattering at his command. All he could do was bolster the offensive where it hit the hardest, and he had done so to the best of his ability, cutting a swathe through the first line of defense with ease. He had ended more lives in a few minutes than he had done for many years now, but he forced himself through it. There was no room for hesitation left. Although he had expected a more complex plan of attack from Lord Aizen, he still had faith in the man. When the ritual was completed, there would be no more need for fighting. The war would end there and then, and until then… until then, he just had to endure.

Jellal's reverie was interrupted as the corpse of an arrancar was thrown through the air, right at him. Jellal dodged, and the ruined carcass of a soldier landed at his feet. An arm had been torn off, the throat had been ripped out, and a massive blunt-force injury had caved in its chest. The white uniform was stained by dust and blood, and he- it- was still twitching, still in its death throes. Jellal looked from where it had come, and there, right at the center of the shinigami lines, he saw him. He heard the laugh before he could see him properly, the maniacal laugh of a killer engrossed in his craft and enjoying every second of it.

Blue hair, chest exposed, and two jaw fragments on his right cheek, moving as he laughed. White clothes, stained with blood. There was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, having the time of his life killing his own kind. Jellal saw him grab an arrancar by the head with both hands, bringing the skull down onto his knee before throwing his victim to the ground, curb-stomping him. There was a sickening crack as the skull caved in like a watermelon, blood and brains spraying across the pavement. He hadn't even drawn his blade, preferring to wreak havoc up close and personal. Broken, still bodies clad in white lay all around him. The shinigami looked at him with an equal mix of fear, awe, and inspiration. The line held here, and as long as Grimmjow had his way, it would continue to hold.

Jellal could not let that happen. Spinning his blade around, he walked forward, calling out to him.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez!"

Grimmjow was holding a woman up by the neck, a lesser arrancar. Smiling widely, he looked at Jellal, and his grip on her neck tightened until there was a snap. Throwing her body aside like so much trash, he took a step forward.

"Fuckin' finally," he said, grinning like a shark. "It was getting old, butchering these weaklings. Don't get me wrong: it's fun and all, but I was hoping to see something more… worthwhile."

"Grimmjow," Jellal said contemptuously, "you haven't changed one bit."

"Neither have you, Lanza." Grimmjow snorted. "I'd know that self-righteous tone from a mile away."

"It's Jellal," said Jellal.

"Jellal, Lanza, whatever," said Grimmjow, taking another step forward. Briefly, he turned to the shinigami, and said, "Stand back, boys. Don't interfere. You lot will just end up getting killed, or worse, you'll end up stealing my fun."

Seeing his wicked grin, the shinigami line backed up a goodly few paces, picking up their wounded as they went. The few lesser arrancar left turned and retreated, eager to be out of Grimmjow's reach.

"Ain't this fucked up, huh?" said Grimmjow, stopping just ten yards away from Jellal. "You ever feel like we should switch places? You, the bright and noble shithead with grand visions, you'd fit right in with Red. Me, I don't believe in jack except killing and growing. I should be where you are, don't you think?"

"You will never understand, Grimmjow," Jellal said, the grip on his blade tightening. "You're a base murderer. You kill for the sake of killing. It's like you said- you believe in nothing except violence. You're a blood-soaked nightmare. We will never be equals."

Grimmjow threw back his head and laughed, long and hard.

"Look at you," he said, after he finally ran out of breath. "That uniform of yours ain't clean, buddy. It's just as bloody as mine. The only difference is that you have to tell yourself that when you slide that blade into somebody's neck, when you feel their life ending, there was a good reason you did it."

Jellal flinched. He didn't mean to. He had thought he was sure in his purpose.

"But, you don't even believe that, do you?" said Grimmjow, something fierce in his eyes. "You're not actually sure Aizen's worth it. Because deep down, you're not as dumb as I thought you was. Deep down, you wonder if you're right or not, if you're actually just a murderer like me or not. Don't you?"

"Shut up."

"That's fucking rich, innit?" said Grimmjow, slowly drawing his blade. "I ain't gonna lie: I did some growing while I was away. Being imprisoned with these shinigami shitheads… gave me some perspective. But, at the end of the day, I don't have to ask myself if I'm a good person or not, and you do. So, when you look in the mirror the next time, what will you see, eh? Murderer or hero?"

"Shut up."

"You know they're one and the same at best," Grimmjow continued, pointing his sword at Jellal as he mercilessly continued. "You know deep down that I'm right and you're wrong. That you're a killer the same as the rest of us, that you're a hypocrite. That deep down, you like it-"

Screaming bloody murder, Jellal slammed into Grimmjow with an overhead strike, the former espada handily parrying the blow.

"Good, good," Grimmjow said, grinning wide again. "Let's tango, you little shithead. I always did want a piece of you, you self-righteous prick."

He shoved Jellal back, blade raised.

"Just one thing," he continued. "I ain't like your kind. I don't take prisoners. I'll kill you and eat the meat off your bones when I'm done with you."

Jellal grit his teeth. He would not falter, not here, not now, not when it mattered the most.

"I would spare you if I could, Grimmjow," he said bitterly, "even if you do not deserve it. Luckily, I doubt I'll have the chance."

Just like that, Grimmjow lunged at him, and their blades met in earnest. Jellal focused, as completely as he ever had done. Animal, traitor, and scum, Grimmjow was still a formidable warrior who had earned his rank the hard way. One of them would not walk away from this battlefield.

Well, that's that. Really eager to hear what you all thought about the chapter, so please feel free to leave a review.