"Get down!"
It happened in an instant.
At the sound of Mizuki's shout the twenty Hollows stationed at the rampart of that crystalline front gate ducked below the low walls as a Kido blast wider than the gate itself rocketed overhead. In a thundering explosion, the blast struck the petrified tree at Bosque Santuario's entrance. 'Branches' broke and the roof of civilization shook. Sand poured onto the fields. Panic. Those working the fields and too slow to move out of the way were crushed beneath the indiscriminate weight. Lines of color snapped along the pathway.
A wave of masked Shinigami flooded over the gate.
A blast of wind shot up into the stream of Shinigami overhead, cutting one in two. Several ceros shot up into the invaders. What wasn't blocked or deflected struck like a hot laser, but even with burned arms and clothes they moved forward.
They crashed into those on the other side.
In the panic caused by the explosion, many fled to shelter; to the trade district, to their homes, to Tower Vare. A single Hollow tried to free the others from the debris and was cut down from behind. Those that stayed stood prepared to engage the onslaught of Shinigami.
Blood soaked into the ground.
As the rush of twenty or more Shinigami subsided, four more landed on the ramparts. Numbers were on the defender's side, and the Hollows pounced upon two while Mizuki intercepted the others. With a sickening snap and rush of blood, one of the invaders succumbed to the hungry ghosts, but not before slicing one open in turn.
"Hurry up an' grab him, won't 'cha?" The words echoed from beyond the gate's entrance right as a single slice appeared on all the defenders, save for Mizuki. Those injured Hollows collapsed as though inflicted with a wound of infinite depth. Their obstacles now dead, the three remaining Shinigami moved upon Mizuki as one unit.
Even with a missing arm and exposed ribs, the masked Shinigami once pinned to the ground by Hollows struck towards the unmasked man who was gritting his teeth at the massacre at his sides. With a burst of wind, Ueta Kaze sent the two already engaged in combat with its edge backwards. A decisive swing and the already injured Shinigami found the blade embedded in his gut. But the other man's sword dropped and with a free hand held Mizuki in place, preventing blade from cleaving him in two.
"What are you doing?" Mizuki asked, desperately concerned. From within the masked figure a wicked gust formed, shredding his insides. The other two men's hands covered Mizuki's mouth and nose. Blood ran from behind the injured Shinigami's mask from shredded organs, but as the binding grip slipped, so did his consciousness.
At the apex of destruction three Shinigami followed.
One a woman with purple hair wielding a spatula nearly as large as herself as though the utensil was a weapon. Another held a blade with an edge so polished it reflected the surrounding carnage like a mirror, its owner, a dark-skinned man with curly black hair, looked on from behind a pair of goggles with a too-wide grin across his face. Unlike the other two, the third stopped for only a moment before dashing through the shaken refuge and towards Keep Paito in the distance, his long black hair a cape behind him. Explosions followed in his wake.
"Yoru 's always getting ahead of himself. What 'cha think, Hikifune? Is our target in the big glowin' tower or the old fort?"
"The reiatsu here is so dense, it's hard to tell."
Hikifune shielded her eyes from the burning light of tower Vare with an open palm and looked across the flat horizon. Translucent air turned to haze from the smoke of the burning fields and buildings.
"This is a good chance to test out a new technique I've been developing. If it works it will take care of the excessive reiatsu, but it might take some time." A sprig of wood grew from her palm. As it grew, it consumed the surrounding reiatsu, bursting forth as a tumor overnourished with its own supply of life-rich blood. When it hit the ground it grew further, dimming the lights that still flourished the nearby cracked tree.
"That's nice, but this's gonna take too long and I've got other things to get back to. Check out the tower and I'll keep an eye out for anything on the horizon. If Yoru hasn't found 'em and she's not in the tower, the plant'll be useful then."
The plant roots across the ground and the surrounding moss shriveled in its wake. At this rate, it would take less than half an hour for the tree to fruit. How fast did he want to clear out this nest of Hollows? No matter. Hikifune nodded and disappeared into the chaos and over the lake.
Mere minutes after her departure, the man's goggles caught the reflection of a maskless man approaching with a Zanpakuto in hand. That unsettling grin only grew.
"Oh? What's this? You must be the leader. Perfect timing."
"Are you the fuckers responsible for this?" Vitriol dripped from Bylosse's every word.
"Whatcha' gonna do about it?"
—
A few hours into her sleep, Koukou awoke to the sound of an explosion, the shaking of earth, and the cascade of rushing sand. Agonized screams followed. A nightmare seeping into reality. The Shinigami were not bothering with disguises any longer, she sensed each one as they crossed the threshold into her domain – and the slaughter of every soul falling to their blades.
There should have been a warning. Were all those dedicated to surveillance dead? It seldom mattered now, as the soldiers covered Bosque Santuario. She didn't even have time to get dressed in more than the short kosode she slept in before the invaders were inside of Keep Paito, ripping every door from its track and killing every guard in sight.
Koukou opened the door to her room as Yoru skewered the guard with his Zanpakuto: an orange-hilted tsurugi crackling with power. Her presence disguised by the ambiance of Bosque Santuario, she aimed for his neck. Caught off-guard, he had only just enough time to retrieve his blade and dodge the sharpened hand that sought to slit his throat. Hair fell to the floor, mixed with droplets of blood where claws had grazed the side of his neck.
"You'll pay for that! Tell me where your leader is and I'll–"
Koukou, in no mood to listen to the invader, struck again, this time aiming for his legs with a sweeping kick that he narrowly evaded, only to be struck by her whip of a tail. It left a tear across his thigh and exposed bone below. A lesser soldier would have had an artery severed, only Yoru's quick reflexes had saved the leg.
"Damnit!" He retreated to the center of the room, where two masked Shinigami jumped to his side. Furious eyes observed the Hollow draped in white. She shouldn't have been able to hit him; none of these creatures should. As a member of Squad Zero, he was untouchable to such riff-raff. Never-the-less, just as apparent as the blood running down his leg, she had not only hit him – she had injured him. Twice.
"Lucky hit, you just caught me off guard. That won't happen again." Yoru pointed his red-hot blade at her as if to validate his sharp tone. Far enough away to be outside of the reach of her tail.
"Why are you here?" There was none of the velvet that typically softened the sharpened edges of Koukou's voice.
"You haven't already guessed?" Hatred too-familiar to Koukou colored those words. Bitter golden reiatsu scanned Yoru's stance. He held his Zanpakuto at a strange angle and too far away from his body, like the blade itself was prepared to detonate at the slightest provocation. The hungry crackle of blue smoldering along the blade overwhelmed the shrieking in the distance.
"To prevent the birth of an abomination and remove a threat to the Soul King." Then, sneering condescension, "Why else?"
"What are you two doing? Get her, she's the one we're after."
On command, the two masked men readied to rush forward. One step and they choked. Threads of golden silk caught their necks and tightened as they struggled. Hooves clicked against the stone flooring as Soujimaru entered. The threads attached to the golden fleece around his own neck pulled taught until their heads fell to the ground, followed by their bodies.
"Sorry, Shinigami."
Before the threads could threaten his life, Yoru freed his arms from their grasp and brought the tip of his blade to his neck, severing the threads before they could finish him off. Soujimaru's words still fresh in the air, Koukou was upon the intruder, reiatsu blade swinging down above him. With a flick of his wrist, Yoru went from cutting the silk coming from Soujimaru to blocking the oncoming blade.
Another curl of threads launched towards the Shinigami, easily dodged as he retreated from the Keep, back into the crumbling outside. Smoke and gravel filled the room.
"Soujimaru, please gather those you can and get them out of here."
"No, wait!"
She was gone long before he could tell her that he couldn't, that the Shinigami would never let them through. How they would all die unless they won. That Bylosse had told him to ensure Koukou's safety above anything else, and he could never refuse Bylosse. That he couldn't leave her to fight alone even if it meant disobeying her, so unlike his time alive. All he could do is rush behind her with the hope that he might help stop the massacre before it unfolded.
–
A green tendril split forth from the ground with intent to kill as it made its way towards the purple-haired Shinigami approaching the Tower. Hikifune deflected the verdant assault with one flick of the oversized spatula, sending it careening towards the water.
"Who do you assholes think you are, coming in here and blowing up the place? Don't you know people live here?" Nallundra's words were accompanied by a series of plants bursting forth from the water's edge and grasping at Hikifune like a dozen hungry hands.
"Never thought I'd have to use these. Planted them here a half-century ago in case someone was ever stupid enough to try to invade. Now what are you guys after?!"
"These plants won't hold me, Deary."
The words left her plump and unnaturally dark lips and the verdant prison broke and crumbled from the gust spawned by Hikifune's Zanpakuto. Twisted away from the unshackled Shinigami at the shore, Nallundra looked on with her half-outstretched and trembling ears.
Muscles tensed, Nallundra crouched closer to the ground, fists closed with green reiatsu forming seeds in her hands. Hikifune's purple curls tucked into a loose bun held in place by a silver spoon, cheeks marked by red swirls, and her exquisite figure reflected in the Hollow's violet irises surrounded by inhuman black. By the time her gaze settled on the Shinigami's brown eyes, her identity had been decided.
"You're... Captain Hikifune, right? Please answer me, why are you here?"
"It seems you already know who I am. Good." Nallundra clenched her teeth at the other woman's words. Too cheerful. Was the surrounding bloodshed some kind of joke? Rage took root.
"I would like what you took back. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to take things that don't belong to you?"
—
"I am going to do everything in my power to drive you out of here."
Bylosse planned each move in his head. Five masked Shinigami surrounded him, plus the goggle-wearing man. The five were a problem, but manageable. Each one was no stronger than an average Adjuchas. Better armed? Sure. But the gap in reiatsu between them and himself was substantial enough that alone they posed little threat; he'd dealt with more, and stronger, Hollows.
The issue was the sixth Shinigami in front of him. Bylosse knew at a glance he was looking at someone hardened in the forge of many battles – from the way he held his blade, relaxed with no openings, to the grin plastered across his face that revelled in the unfolding destruction. There was no time to be unnerved, though. The future of Bosque Santuario depended on his defense.
"If you beat these guys, I might let you have a chance to try."
Masked men approached Bylosse all at once, each one removing a sword from their head, wrapped hair attached to the hilt of a katana. Bloodless blades led their way forward faster than the eye could see with a distinct sound. A deceptively calm swoosh.
For so many Hollows, that sound was the last thing they heard before a Zanpakuto pierced their flesh and robbed them of their lives, sending them to the Soul Society – or Hell, should their lives as humans have been full of evil. A sound Bylosse was too familiar with. An unwanted mercy.
Responding in kind, a booming sound erupted as Bylosse moved to intercept one of the many swords. How many Shinigami had heard that sound in their final moments? He alone was responsible for the death of no less than twenty, most too weak to have ever put up a modicum of a fight. What of the human souls, the pluses? For every Shinigami killed, more than a hundred 'unpowered' souls fell victim to the maws of the hungry ghosts called Hollows.
But Hollows would always be their own worst enemies. They stalked the sands of Hueco Mundo and ate each other at many times the rate that they consumed everything else. Even for Bylosse, who fought against the cycle that left these monstrous beings to struggle in the sands, that booming sound held a wealth of bloody memories he'd rather forget. Nevertheless, he had to persist.
One black-wrapped hilted katana flew through the air and lodged itself into the mossy ground, followed by a spray of blood as Bylosse's tachi severed its holder down to the spine. Four more blades would seek his life at that moment. None were fit to take it.
With another twist he blocked two blades and dodged the others, his free hand collecting an orange ball of reiatsu. From it burst forth a beam of consuming energy of equal hue. A cero. Too fast for the soldier in front to avoid, its destructive force seared the Shihakusho that obscured his body and dissolved the black mask before melting skin away. Dead.
There was no reaction from the others as their comrades fell to the ground. Least of all the grinning Shinigami, who watched on with glee.
"Their lives don't matter to you at all." Bylosse flicked blood from his blade as the final masked Shinigami fell to the ground, crumpled and discarded.
"I'm not the one killing them, Arrancar."
"Bullshit. You could've called them off and fought me alone. Having them fight me was no different from killing them yourself."
"Could'a just let them kill ya."
"No," Bylosse raised his sword with both hands, blade held parallel to his body, with the tip pointed towards the sky.
"What a shame." He said, grin growing into something both monstrous and entertained.
"Envelop, Gargola."
Shattering, like so many shards of glass, Bylosse's sword disappeared. From the innumerable fragments came a contention of translucent crystal that engulfed the Arrancar as glass entraps the sands of an hourglass. White slivers began to collect upon his face, back, and arms, building upon each other until they made up plates of armor. Stone wings covered in carved feathers weighed down his back, thick shackles formed upon his wrist with broken chains, and from his horns formed a snub-nosed mask with an elongated beak.
Intending to end the fight in an instant, he dove forward with a volley of quartz-like shards at his side. One rotation of that-too polished blade and each projectile became little more than dust. A lack of weapon was nothing. Stone burst from deep below the moss-covered ground in the shape of a spear, in one motion Bylosse grabbed the shaft and thrust it towards the other in a leaping blow.
When the yari's edge met the enemy's Zanpakuto, the stone gave way as though crafted from paper. The cut was clean, such that even both ends of the brittle stone remained intact. How could that be? The stone was reinforced with reiatsu enough that it was as solid as any Zanpakuto. Even then, when the weapon broke it should have shattered into a million powdered pieces.
Bylosse didn't have enough time to continue his thoughts. A lazed swing from the polished blade caught the silver-adorned collar of his ripped haori. Bylosse's traditional coat had been struggling to repair itself following his disproportional transformation, but following the new injury–paper thin and far from flesh–all of the outstretched threads stopped wandering and fell limp. The pleasant color faded immediately after and soon the cloth sloughed from his arms and torso.
"That's some strange clothing you've got on. Almost like it's got a life of its own. Its maker musta put a piece of themselves in it, eh?"
"There's not a damn thing us Hollows can create without doing so." Every muscle in his biceps highlighted and bulked, the hole in his right arm an opening to his chest, with his hands clasped together. Jaw tensed beneath the white mask. That monstrous reflection in the goggles and twisted smile filled him with more vitriol. Condescending and a painful reminder of smug, sickening, and powerful men.
"Allow me to demonstrate."
From the surrounding sands, air, and his reiatsu clear dust–grains of sand in an hourglass–swirled and surrounded them both. Bylosse struggled with each half-hearted strike aimed at his core, escaping the hungry edge by mere centimeters. The lack of genuine ferocity was an insult that added to the quake of anger shaking in his orange eyes.
"Thought you were going to show me somethin'."
"One more second."
At once the glimmering dust reacted with the orange energy permeating the ground. From the ley lines a rumble was the sole warning before all of the dust coalesced into a single large crystal. Frozen in the center was the Shinigami, immortalized in time alongside an unsettling grin.
"Let's get this over with. If you were weaker this wouldn't've taken so damn long." From the ground burst forth a stone otsuchi nearly as tall as himself. Bylosse lifted the top-heavy maul and swung. Cracks formed in the stone before the otsuchi's destructive force collided with the stone. Then the mallet head was separated from the shaft without shattering the shaft. A fortunate result, as its existence was all that spared his torso from the too-sharp edge.
"That was a pretty neat trick, for an Arrancar. Might've worked on someone else. Though, I can see how you came to lead."
"Hate to break it to you, but I am not the leader of Bosque Santuario. Not even close."
"Is that so? That makes this even more interesting," The wicked smile remained.
—
The arch at the entryway collapsed as Yoru crashed into it with enough force to travel the entirety of Bosque Santuario. Not far behind was Koukou, who came to stop not far from where Bylosse stood. Rocks fell to the side as the half-buried Shinigami uncovered himself from the sharp shards of crystal that tore at his skin. A bleeding red mark burned into his arm like a fresh brand and a few cuts, Yoru fumbled to his feet. Despite his mostly undamaged condition, he panted as though it was a fight that had been ongoing for half an hour – not mere minutes.
"So you're the Hollow who's spiritual pressure is reeking out of this place." The battle-hardened man observed behind his goggles, Koukou reflected within their glossy surface.
"Your fight is with me!" Bylosse interrupted with a crash of stone dodged with more ease than before. Desperation filled his voice and drove him
"Oetsu! She's both the one we're after and their leader. Never would've thought a woman was running the place."
"Is that so? Perfect. Now to get rid of the rest of them." With one swing of that too-polished blade, it penetrated through the armor of stone that covered Bylosse's form and sought his vitals–slicing through arm, bone, cartilage, and muscle in a torrent of blood too large for such a clean wound. As instant as the strike had been, Bylosse collapsed to the floor in a puddle of his own blood.
Koukou disappeared accompanied by a distorted mixture of static and an abrupt breeze. Yoru interrupted her hurried steps with an explosion ushered forth from his Zanpakuto, giving her only just enough time to stop before the burst created a crater too deep to see the bottom of. Moonlight now illuminated airborne dust from the missing sand and rock above.
"Oh? Was that a flicker in your reiatsu I felt just now?" Yoru swept in from behind, locking swords with Koukou. He tried to overpower her to no avail.
"Don't tell me the Vosto Lorde below the sands cares about her servants. Even the ancient skeleton in the sands above couldn't care less about his men." When he received no answer, another beam-like explosion appeared, centered on their position. Both fighters shifted without separating their blades.
"Or maybe you're just upset because he was the father of that thing you're carrying?" Another question answered with silence. The two moved in a circle, sizing up the other, locked together by equal weaponry.
"Still have nothing to say? We already know the father is a Shinigami. If it was that Arrancar, we might've looked the other way. Tell us who the father is and your death will be quick. You might even get to see them again in Hell." Yoru used his leverage to twist Koukou's tsurugi aside, aiming to use the momentary advantage to bring the edge down upon her mask. Freeing one hand from the hilt she summoned a yellow cero from her fingertips–preventing the decisive blow and burning a hole into the mountainside beyond.
Oetsu took a step towards the two combatants, wicked sword held over his shoulder. A voice–gruff and ineffectual–followed behind in a plead.
"Koukou... Don't let his sword cut you... please, run."
"You're still alive, are ya? Looks like my blade needs more work." Then the aforementioned sword removed Bylosse's head as though cutting through mist.
"Bylosse, no!"
Soujimaru stopped halfway up the now-covered path, having followed all the way down as fast as his two hooves could carry him. Water formed in his eyes, but just as the rains would never fall in the desert of Hueco Mundo, neither would those tears. Oetsu didn't stop the sheep from approaching. Only watched as the colorful golden ram cradled Bylosse's head in his arms, watching the last essence of life fade. Unwilling and unable to accept the gore upon which he knelt.
"Forgive me." A soft whisper below Koukou's breath.
"You're almost makin' me feel bad." Oetsu held his bloodless sword low. Soujimaru looked up from his sea of despair and found an ocean of anger. Teeth clenched and brow furrowed, he rose without tremble. "Almost."
"Soujimaru, I told you to leave."
The command would not meet his ears and even if it had, the outcome would remain unchanged. Color began to drain from Oetsu like the warmth from a fresh corpse as Soujimaru sprinted towards him. The color flowed from the Shinigami until his Shihakusho became bleached white and his hair faded from black. Stiffened in place, Oetsu struggled to move away from the needles of silk and wrathful Hollow approaching.
Then, in a pile of burning cinders Soujimaru stopped. Before Koukou could react, the color returned to Oetsu and in another swing of his deathly sword, Soujimaru's throat was cut. Yoru walked towards the scene, blade on fire and smoke on his breath. In flames, hissing and popping, Soujimaru's body was turned to ash that left only the shards of his mask lying beside the puddle of blood.