It was clear that Udo’s current commanding officer, Reijuu Kyuketsu, was hit hard by the shock of attacking his own comrade, as his dominance over the skies and sands crumbled along with Udo’s reflection. The spell-blade knew he had no chance against a vasto lorde, but he could at least hold back the weaker hollows that were creeping towards the soul reapers, so that the stronger members of the force had less distractions to deal with. Focusing on crowd control, the blade-mage once again funnelled the power of a hundred wooden arrows into his zanpakutou, ready to silently release it at a moment’s notice.
As in previous great battles, the templar queen Tsubaki roared forth her combat wisdom to the others, to strengthen the spirits of those who fight alongside her. In response, the bloodied man moved towards Griffon, who just returned from a poorly-timed slumber, in case the man was affected by a concussion. Udo also caught a glance of Seitaro’s limp almost-corpse, but figured the two captains near him were help enough.
The familiar cage of light assembled around the expeditionary force. As soon as the amethyst-eyed reaper saw the medic’s bankai enshrine the battlefield, he could feel its energies start work on his wounds. Thankfully, his current injuries were shallow, so they would be healed soon. It was no surprise to see the captain then rush to heal the vice captain of the enchanted blades, whose state certainly demanded expert attention.
The ramble of stunned and shocked soul reapers gradually regained their composure with Tsubaki’s words and Makoto’s healing touch. The blood templar formed a defensive shield in front of the most injured and the healers, leaving the less injured to focus on the immediate threats. Udo kept the crowd of hollows, and Griffon, in his sight, lest either require his attention.
Then, the big guns. A woman charged forth, her haori revealing her to be the new captain of the ninth division, the replacement for Saika Rakushun. By the time the former member of the ninth had figured out who this was, she had already cast the most powerful binding spell known to soul society. Was it enough?
Senesati stood by as he watched Makoto work. Dammit, he chastised himself as he looked upon Seitaro's healing wounds.
The vice-captain's eyelids fell slowly as the healer captain continued to patch him up. "Kah-,” he said faintly to the his royal captain his arm stretch toward Senesati.
"Save your strength, Seitaro,” commanded the spell-blade captain. Although he knew what the tattooed shinigami was about to say, he wanted all his strength dedicated to fighting the multiple lacerations that marked his body. It was clear the man would need a lot of rest to regain his reiatsu even after the healing of his wounds.
"Eighth Seat Tabawara,” called the raven-haired noble, turning his sapphire eyes toward lean green-haired male, "Once Matsumara-taichou has done his work. See to it that Seitaro makes it back to the Fourth Division's barracks for further monitoring.
"And make sure Kago pays him a visit and keeps him company until he awakens. Understood?”
"Only just freed and already they seek to bind me." the beast mused as the bakudou wound about his body, punctuated by the snap of the steel pins as they drove into his flesh.
"A bold one," he continued, seemingly undeterred by the spell. "Is it bravery? Foolishness? Or perhaps..."
Pausing, the dreadful creature turned his gaze towards Kaede. "...One who has not yet tasted madness."
An eerie silence fell over Hueco Mundo -- as if the whole world had stopped at the monster's behest. Even the hordes of roving, lesser Hollows seemed to momentarily cease their frenzy and turn eyes on the Shinigami interlopers for the first time. Then, a ringing sounded. Faint at first; a whisper so quiet that it might go unnoticed if not for the unnerving reticence. Slowly, however, it began to build -- a dreadfully discordant tone that sent chills down the spine. As the note reached its crescendo, a lone mote of light blinked into existence between the gaping fangs of the beasts morose accessory -- a flame as dark as night, dancing chaotically in the lantern's maw.
"I will thank you, however, for waking me." the Vasto Lorde rumbled. "It has been so dreadfully long. What has become of my captor, Shinigami? What has become of Emptybones?"
Whats good
All Shinigami in the area will start to feel uneasy at this point. Feelings of dread, paranoia, irritability, mild auditory hallucinations and the like. The surrounding Hollows would have redoubled in their effort to wreck absolutely fucking everything, but are still keeping their distance from our group. Also, the older Captains might recognize the namedrop.
Though not so close to the menace as the others, the vasto lorde’s power flooded across the alabaster sands in a great wave. It cascaded over Haresuno, as his eyes were drawn to the obsidian flame.
For a moment he was mesmerized by the fire which seemed to suck the scant light of the night-world away. The shadows around every shinigami bent, as if pulled, towards the hollow.
A whisper danced in the winds, calling him by name.
Haresuno, it spoke, Haresuno. Over and over until the sailing winds past him by.
Immediately the adept’s concentration broke away from the developing situation, and from the tan tarp he hid beneath his azure eyes scanned for the source.
Nothing.
A shiver ran down the length of his spin, and brought his hackles to rise. Something else was out there, watching them all. Watching him. He could feel it’s hungry eyes upon him, and he knew it hunted for him.
A shuddering breath escaped past his lips, and the tall death god shivered against the sands.
No, he told himself, if something were watching me it wouldn’t be hunting me. Focus. Keep a hold on concealing your presence. Don’t get distracted. Shutting his eyes from the world, Haresuno focused to make sure he had not let slip his presence. He took a small measure of comfort to know his reiatsu had not risen higher then what would get him noticed.
Off in the distance around them, the roars and cries of lesser hollows filled the air. If listened upon closely the sound of tearing flesh, and wet spray of blood could be heard. A frenzy had begun.
I must think of something to help. I do not like where this is all going.
Griffin’s ears twitched. Had someone just said something? He sniffed the air, taking in the hollow desert’s scent as his eyes roved from side to side. Nothing new could be seen, though. Just hollows and shinigami, as far as the eye could see, and all that could be heard was that decadent ringing noise.
Then what did I just hear? He tried to put it out of his mind. For now, all he needed to focus on was the great beast in their midst. That was his ticket. All the blue-haired viking could ever want would be gained by just fighting that thing, even if it killed him with a single stroke.
Still, he could not keep his feet from raising onto their toes, or stop the rising of the hair on his arms. A deep frown creased his lips as he realized this. He was a son of Odin, and was thus above fear. To show such obvious signs of weakness pissed him off. He was better than that.
"Kljuufa.” Griffin growled while the pressure forced him to drop into a predatory crouch. Blue fire, cold as ice, sprang up around the blade, throwing an eerie glow around the man’s grim face. He wished he could move faster, get in that thing’s face now, but even this was an effort for him. The hollow was terribly strong, and the man had to focus to just put one foot in front of the other. He would make it though. He’d fight that damn Vasto Lorde even if it took everything to just get there.
[265/592]
”Note”
Hes stalking from the outer rim of shinigami towards the Vasto Lorde, so hes not there yet (unless i misjudged and there’s not that many shini after all lol.
Mitsuyo stared forward, his eyes wide and blank and a perfect reflection of his current state of mind.
It was all an illusion. Fake. Not real. They had been fighting each other – had been trying to kill each other without even realizing it. Mitsu's gaze trailed up the length of Kyuto's sword and met the bewildered violet of her eyes, and it took him longer to comprehend that she had nearly killed him than it had taken him to understand what had just happened to them all.
Not too long ago, she had given him a kiss.
His lips formed her name, but he didn't have the breath to give them a voice – he couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move.
And yet he barely registered the moment when the magic pinning him dispersed into the air, leaving him slumped in the sand with his shoulders hunched and his frame shaking. The only difference was now he had no explanation for why he wasn't standing up.
Honestly? He didn't know if he could.
Somewhere behind him, Mitsu's zanpakutou hit the sand with a dull whump – returned to its sealed form without the will of its owner to guide it.
"Kyu,” he finally managed, not sure what he wanted to say, "I—”
That was when a terrible, soul-crushing presence hit him like a fucking train. No, not a presence. Presences. A lot of them. An army of shadows, with night itself to guide them.
Mitsu turn. Didn't move. Didn't look at it.
He didn't need to look at it to know how fucked they were.
No no no no god fucking no. Every time he thought things were at their absolute worst...
He curled in further on himself, breathing gone sharp and ragged, hands pressed to his head; there was a voice from nearby, a somewhat-familiar tone (Ilsa?), but he couldn't make out the words, much less understand the message they carried. All he could hear was
"Don't you dare pity me, shinigami.”
the sound of bitterness mixed with blood and
"Don't...touch...me...”
the ceaseless, drumming beat of his own heart.
Mitsu reached out and groped blindly with one clammy hand, fingernails digging into the sand until they found the hilt of his sword, now lightly dusted with grit. He pulled it closer with shaking fingers.
What do I do? he asked the sword desperately. I don't know what...I...I can't...
When Ataru remained silent, he wasn't surprised.
{407 / 407}
HNG
holy shitting shit, Mitsu. what are you even doing please stop it. ='|
The words wore her voice, carried the Captain's tone in their speaking. Anyone who may have heard them aside from Tsubaki would have been hard pressed to discern the fraud from reality.
I have to try. I have to get these people out of here.
All around them the sea of ivory masks and writhing black limbs gathered, a congregation of predators too greedy to ignore easy prey but too smart to charge in recklessly.
They're just as doomed as you, and your presence here only seals their fate.
In her hand the silver-tipped halberd felt heavy, almost alien in its weight and cumbersome shape. Tightening her grip on the weapon all the more, the Templar Queen quickly glanced around to the assembled soldiers near her.
They're counting on me, on us, to get them home alive.
Her feet shifted into a ready stance, the silver tip of her soul's blade leveled at the Vasto Lorde.
Are they? Are they even who you believe? You attacked your friends in earnest only moments ago, do you believe an enemy capable of such deception would just...reveal itself this way?
Do you trust your senses so completely?
The voices and friends around her faded away, replaced only with a sharpened awareness of the Vasto Lorde.
Do you believe that you can save them?
Under the steel veil of her gauntlets the woman's knuckles blanched a pale white as they gripped their charges with every ounce of strength.
Can you save anyone?
Grains of crystalline sand flowed gently and silently between her toes, the endless desert paying welcome to the uninvited guests.
"If I can't...we're pretty much dead already."
Tsubaki became a blur of instantaneous motion, the cold sweat on the back of her neck spurred on all the more by the furious racing of her heart. Sand whipped about her features as the Templar Queen left the burst of Shunpo, appearing directly in front of her foe.
"Just die."
A bolt of argent lightning raced from her right side as the tip of the spear raced towards the unholy creature's neck.
[355/590]
A note
I may or may not be expecting this attack to hit. Either way I trust you can have some fun with this one sev.
That voice poured liquid ambrosia into Zak's ear and made his throat freeze up as if someone had just lodged an icicle into it.
"I'm so close." The Master whispered in her purely seductive voice.
"No." Zak said through clenched teeth. "You're not really here."
"The longer you remain, the more you'll become my beloved Iblis. You can take a shark out of the ocean but it remains a shark."
A creeping cold crept up his neck, chin, and face like a dead hand. Instinctively he grabbed at it and was horrified to feel a hard porcelain shell forming around his head. It was a hollow mask. He knew this was another delusion, it had to be...
She was in front of him, cloaked in her living shadows with only her cheshire grin showing through. Behind her drifted Iblis, a large blot of floating in holding aloft a great eye. She caressed the smoky demon and it shuddered in response, jealousy raged up from Zak's bowels that he touch was not ment for him.
"Fuck you both!" He shouted and loosed his chains at the illusion before him.
It's me. It's been a while since I've wrote to you but I hope you won't hold that against me. I just haven't seen a reason to for while. Don't get me wrong though, I totally believe in you. I know you exist. Having to deal with adults can be something of a pain though. I didn't want to bother you with my simple requests, that's all.
But if you will listen to me this one time, I would really appreciate it. I haven't been perfectly behaved, but all those captains agreed to come help me! It wasn't as if I completely tricked them. And I know this letter is a bit late but I hope you can pull it off. After all, you're a great man aren't you, Santa Claus?
So, for this Christmas, I would like for all my fellow shinigami and me to safely make it home.
Signed, Picca Lilli
P.S. If I could have enough kan to buy a feat, that would be great as well. You know, if you want. Not pushing for it.
As the expeditionary force reunited, old command structures fell back into place. In the black chaos upon white sands, members of the Gotei Thirteen were reuniting with their superiors and subordinates. In response to his captain’s order, Udo yelled out, "Yes sir!” and rushed towards his gravely injured vice-captain. The severity of his wounds and Senesati’s constant attention made clear what had passed. This was just one of many examples of an army filled with grief and doubt.
The expedition squad of three was no more. The soul reaper was a bit sad about parting ways with his comrades-in-arms, as he had eventually learnt how to get along with them. Now, back in the fold of the enchanted blades, his mission was to guard his superior officer and take him to the Fourth Division.
The confusion, grief, and doubt made this wounded army the perfect fertile ground in which to plant the seeds of paranoia... which the hollow before them was well aware of. After some banter with his first assailant, the beast’s power plunged the desert of battle in silence. This was wrong... very, very wrong. A high pitched sound grew until it filled Udo’s ears with pain, causing him to clutch them in an attempt to dampen it. Just as quickly, the ringing stopped.
That... that... spell didn’t faze it at all... what the hell are we up against? Why are we even here?! A large group of soul reapers were sent into the home of the hollows to be slaughtered! We knew nothing! We ran straight into a trap and almost killed each other! How do we know we’re not fighting one of our own now?! What-
SILENCE!A thunderous roar erupted from within Udo’s soul, blasting out his thoughts by sheer force. Space Ratchet was pissed.Your knowledge is limited and there is no way to escape that! Use what you know or go die now!
The reaper was stunned for a moment by this sudden outburst. Udo stood in shock for a few seconds, before finally lowering his hands from his head and calming down. There is no sure-fire way to know if what I see is real... but there’s always a chance that it is, so there’s always a reason to do the right thing. I have a wounded comrade to watch over.
The space-mage made his way over to Seitaro, with his weapon ready to go in more ways than one. If the crowd of hollows dared approach, they would suffer.
Meanwhile, Griffon had found his feet and released his zanpakutou, so Udo no longer felt the need to watch over him. The Templar Queen now occupied a far more suitable place, face-to-face with the abomination. The expeditionary force had taken a major toll, but they weren’t down yet.
Ilsa soared toward the rest of the officers on crystal wings, ignoring the all too familiar sensation of bankai beginning to slip out of her grasp. Even through the lingering pain of scorched reiatsu channels, the feeling of her bankai fading was not something she would forget. Not after the last time it had happened. Matsumoto-taichou was too busy to catch her this time. But she needed this power! If she was to stand against a Vasto Lorde, if she was going to be any help on this battlefield, she needed her bankai.
Ilsa-chan, please, at least land if you are going to do this to yourself!
Much as she wanted to stay in the air, Hinometori was right. The winged shinigami swooped down toward the Templar Queen’s left with a rush of wind and a plume of sand. Not too close; having felt the weight of her reiatsu, Ilsa had no desire to be in close proximity to her when the bolstering effect of Ilsa’s own bankai failed.
A wave of doubt swept over her as she faced the creature before them. Was any of this real? What if the Vasto Lorde and its army of hollows were just another illusion? Someone had to have got a message through to Soul Society, or the captains wouldn’t be here. And Ilsa doubted that a Hollow could duplicate the effects of Matsumara-taichou’s legendary bankai, or even his chiyudou. Hollows didn’t heal others.
But what about the Vasto Lorde? Was it really a Vasto Lorde, or another captain and his subordinates? If the illusions of this place could make Ilsa think that Mineto was the Primera Espada, they could certainly disguise a captain as a Vasto Lorde and a squad of shinigami as Hollows!
What if this was Sayis-soutaichou?
Ilsa clutched the hilt of her fiery sword, staring at the shackled being and its capering followers. What do I do? Tsubaki-taichou flash stepped toward the enemy, halberd in hand. What do I do?
You can’t keep your bankai up much longer without damaging yourself, fledgling! Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!
I... I don’t know...
[355/835]
Note
Ilsa descended before Tsubaki attacked. She is somewhere behind and to the left of her now.
Zak's chains ripped meaninglessly into the snow white sands. "You've already determined this to be an illusion."
"Her affections are ment for me and me alone!"
"No, you hate her. We hate her. She destroyed us and will destroy all we have come to hold dear."
The fury suddenly drained from Zak, Iblis was right though he never expected to hear such words coming from the spirit. The cold mask that had enveloped his face was gone as was the image of Iblis behind The Master. The shadowed lord; however, remained with her smile undaunted. Zak shook his head and pulled his chains back into their shell. The true enemy was still right there watching them as he fed the shinigami his lies with his horde of hollows shrieking and ripping things apart behind him.
"Captain," The Third seat huffed with a raw voice, "Let's rip them apart."
Through the effervescent darkness, the Templar Queen's resplendent halberd sought the heart of the inconceivable manifestation of darkness. Or rather, it sought the breath of life, to sever the ancient hollow's very neck and so end its existence.
Hollowkin of all shapes and sizes, maddened by their unwanted yet insurmountable master, screamed out as that bolt of argent turned to coal, the Vasto Lorde's blood more akin to ink or some more vile sludge. According to all appearances, from the sprays of blood, those bellows of the army of minions caught between sweet relief and the maddened, confused awe and disbelief, and even to the feeling of resistance against the blade followed by the sweet, silky separation of tender flesh, the inheritor of the Eleventh Division had struck true.
In truth, so she had...except not as she intended.
Stygian cruor followed the arc of that weapon, the paint to the Templar Queen's brush, the mark of her most accomplished art. Before the eyes of everyone there, that shadowy fluid took on its more familiar, brighter scarlet tones. No longer was there a Vasto Lorde in front of Tsubaki, no longer the harbinger of death and doom.
Instead, there was a man...a boy really. One who played no small role in the forging of the iron in her muscles, in kindling the fire of her strike.
Someone who she had seen only in her own head, wrapped up in the myth, in the fog of his own philosophies and ideals and stubborn tenets.
No roar of pain left the boy's lips, for even such a trenchant and ultimately deadly assault could not compare to the abyss of torments he had willingly thrown himself into. He, the Mastering, had no voice for the fears inside of him, had no voice for the agonies that beset his diminutive form. In that single, telling blow - high across the chest, by the mercies of some unknown powers that be, rather than across the pale, vulnerable throat -- he understood both the advancement of his protégé...and the despair that dulled her blade.
One eye alone stared at her - the other long lost, its former cavity covered by a black tsuba - and for the most fleeting of moments, it seemed as if he felt betrayed by she who was his successor.
Then the expression changed. Yuzuki Masato, former Captain of the Eleventh, caught himself from reeling backward. The Mastering stood as tall and firm as he could, standing before Tsubaki as she had always remembered him: strong, the wall she could not overcome, the thing she most wanted to emulate and yet hated the most. Long ago he had given up the white haori and replaced it with a simple traveling cloak but beneath that he had his shihakushou, itself tattered and worn from his long time away.
Knowing that time was of the essence, that not even a single moment could be spared for reunion or even anger at the errant strike, Masato held his explanations, held his biting lectures, and instead said only, "Do not forget Wisdom, Tsubaki!"
In his hands, the Mastering already held the golden white Setsumai Amaji, its magnificent blade shimmering like the mid-day sun. Its peerless surface was coated in streaks of blood, and more dripped from a hundred smaller wounds that dotted his spare frame. No matter what brave face he put on, it was clear that he was barely standing. The boy was pale, and anyone could see that he had already been fighting for a long time, time that stretched on endlessly before what he had thought would be his salvation became his undoing.
Shifting his eye toward Makoto, lingering there as a man dying of thirst would linger on the temptation of a shimmering oasis - dare he believe it was real? Could he put his hopes on the salvation the number four haori promised? - the former Captain instead moved, reminding the others of the overwhelming skill in Hohou that the man possessed even in his weakened state. In that single motion, he stood beside Tsubaki, shoulder to shoulder. Blood pooled at his feet and his breaths were torn and ragged, but he was standing.
Hilt gripped in both hands, Masato lifted Setsumei Amaji, staring out at the hordes of hollows, wondering how many of them were real and how many creations of his own mind. He stared at the other shinigami, a whole army seemingly, including former Duelists. "The real monster is out there," Masato hurriedly stated. "I dared not risk the reiatsu while on my own, but... let's see how many of these fuckers have the cajones to take on two Captains of the Eleventh at once!" With that, he reached up and ripped away the tsuba over his eye, revealing the onyx orb within.
"What in the Hell?” The words escaped the unseated shinigami’s lips before he could take them back. No sooner had he arrived to see an enemy then it disappeared and the form of a man now replacing it. He wanted badly to join his comrades, to talk with them over this development and consult them in their actions, but another part of him refrained him from acting. Twice now he had seen the Templar Queen strike her enemies only to see them resolve into shinigami, what were the chances that this new visage was nothing more than another trap?
Stay aware, Hare, he told himself. You don’t get the luxury of working side-by-side right now. But that statement only seemed to irritate him more, and he ground his teeth in frustration. If he made it back to Seireitei and retrieved the haori like he planned, he was going to doom his division to a one-sided partnership with other divisions.
"Bakudou Number Seventy-Seven, Tenteikuura.” He waited a moment while his reiatsu gathered, holding the individuals specific in mind, and then it flowed out of him in a tiring wave of will that reached out to the leaders. "Pardon the intrusion, but this had best be done now instead of later. Would one of you mind explaining the situation? I can only see so much. I need you all to be my eyes and ears since I can’t get close yet.”
[816]
Sene, Makoto, Tsu, Kaede, Ilsa, and Kyuketsu all now have a very bland voice in their heads. Also, they now have the sudden urge to brood.
It was a mantra chanted many times over in the last several minutes.
Concentrate.
Under normal circumstances—hell, even under combat conditions—this was hardly ever necessary. Makoto was coming into his own at handling Shinka Kainyuu’s final release and could manage several delicate healing procedures while wielding it, but this time he found himself struggling to keep everything together. Perhaps it might have had something to do with the voice in his head. No, not Shinka Kainyuu, the other voice.
”Makoto,” the airy but familiar voice called.
Concentrate. It had been that way since he started hearing that voice. Makoto ignored it, urging himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Which to his credit, the wound in the Eighth Division Vice-Captain’s gut was no longer gushing blood and was actually mending nicely, but he couldn’t help but notice that things were going a bit more slowly than they should.
”Makoto,” the voice called again.
Concen....
”Don’t you ignore me, Makoto Matsumara!”
...trate.
”Makoto...!”
"Shut. Up,” the healer actually hissed aloud.
The voice in his head gasped. "Don’t talk to your fiancé like that!”
Fumi? I’m kinda busy here...
”Never mind him. More importantly, did I hear correctly? You met Barandillia Trueno?”
"What?” Makoto said aloud again, his brows knitting together beneath ginger bangs. As much as he wanted to ignore the voice and properly channel High Mend, he was becoming increasingly unable to block out his fiancé’s disembodied voice. But this wasn’t right; Fumika would never speak that way about an injured person. She was a gentle soul that valued life every bit as much as he did.
”Did you take notes?”
"Huh? Why would I pull out a pen and take notes in the middle of a fight?”
”For an accurate account of the interaction. Speaking of accurate, were the historical descriptions we’ve read accurate? Close at the very least?”
It was then that a large bead of sweat dropped from the healer’s temple. Perhaps on second thought, this was Fumika spot-on. History comes before everything, eh?
Of course it does! But never mind that—”
The rest of Fumi’s sentence was drowned out by another, stronger and deeper voice. Placebo.
"What?” the nobleman questioned.
”Well?” Fumika said impatiently.
"What?” Makoto repeated, surely looking positively insane to anyone who might have been watching him. The healer didn’t know how much more of this he could take, his mind having seemingly exceeded its maximum capacity for occupants.
”Placebo!” Shinka Kainyuu roared.
And then it hit him, the meaning of the leonine spirit’s words. "Fear and worry have no place here. Chiyudou number thirty-eight, Placebo.” The effect was immediate. As the healer captain’s lips completed the chanted spell, a wave of clarity washed over him, rousing him from the depths of his own psychosis once again.
"Damn it,” the nobleman cursed as he looked down at Seitaro. All looked well; he didn’t seem to be injuring the man any further at the very least. With his focus intact once again, the healer redoubled his efforts at stabilizing Senesati’s subordinate.
[511/1191]
Note for Placebo (everyone within 10 feet of Makoto read)
Placebo - Chiyudou #38, 300 Kidou to Learn, 1.3x Mind Effect Removed
Description: When patients are overcome by irrational fear or other mental malfunctions, the medic may use Placebo to calm the nerves of everyone within a ten-foot radius.
The cost of this spell is based on the strongest effect on the targets in range.
Incantation: Fear and worry have no place here. Chiyudou #38, Placebo.
Kurohashi’s dark eyes darted amongst the unraveling chaos. The reaper leaned on his grounded knee and clenched his blade while the female captain launched a monstrous attack on the Vasto Lorde. Before the damage could be dealt, the phantasmal demon had disappeared almost as quickly as it had manifested itself before the shinigami. There, standing in his place instead, was another Death God, one that Kurohashi did not recognize.
The illusion that fell over all their eyes had been discovered but the walker knew he could fall victim just as easily again. The dark reiatsu that surrounded them now grew closer as the wary army of hollow circumvented the group, more approaching in the horizon. They stood their ground but the mute warrior stared out into the black crowd and made a decision.
Coming to his feet, the masked reaper wrenched his battered blade from the sands and spun around, speeding toward the nearest hollow. The dark reiatsu licked at the walker’s senses and drew him out, like a moth to the flames that would as soon burn it out. The reaper grew nearer to a snarling alabaster mask, carried his blade overhead and slashed downward. The steel cut through the mask but instead of the dark, putrid blood that should have been there, the hollow disappeared, fading away like he mirage in an oasis. Again, he cut through the image of a hollow, only to see it vanish as the one before. In a moment struck by frustration, a razor-sharp claw cut across the reaper’s arm.
Kurohashi turned on his heel and stabbed his zanpakutou into the body of the beast. It reared back and Kurohashi prepared to strike it down but before he could carry the blade, an overwhelming sensation of unease weighed down on the Death God. The hollow seized the opportunity and retreated amongst the bedlam of demons. Kurohashi, bogged down by the unfamiliar fear, pulled back and stammered into the haven of shinigami again. His widened eyes, looked around, unsure of what might come next.
A look of bewilderment and confusion befell the once battle-motivated Vice-Captain. His energy, his passion, his thirst for the uncertainty of war—all dwindled down to mere bafflement at the sight. No Espada, no dreaded Vasto Lorde. In the place of a monumental beast instead came a man by whom many of the soldiers there knew. Kyuketsu had never met the former Captain before, let alone share a single word of dialogue with him. But now, out of the blue, this figure once thought dead came without warning.
He wanted to say something. He wanted to ask both commanders of the Eleventh, past and present, as to what in the holy name of fuck was going on. In the end, however, Kyuketsu simply came down to a sigh. He shrugged off the thought as he gave one last piercing glance at the figure of Yuzuki Masato. The Vice-Captain acknowledged the figure... for now. Trust was never one of his strong suits, so in the event that this glorious ‘return’ was merely a Hollow’s pretense, he’d be ready to cut down the cretin into a million different pieces given the opportunity.
Resting his blade over his right shoulder, the lieutenant proceeded to hear yet another familiar voice. Thankfully enough, this phenomenon wasn’t alien to him. It felt very much like a certain kidou, though the young officer couldn’t pin the name right then and there. The voice was of Haresuno’s, unsurprisingly.
Waiting for the right time to strike, I see. How classy of you, Sir Uchiharu, responded the Templar. I’d remain hidden for now if I were you, though. And take note of the figure next to Captain Tsubaki. It looks AND feels like a former Captain, but in case I’m wrong... I’m confident you know what to do.
Stretching his neck sideways, the fukutaichou awaited eagerly for what was to come next.
Udo stared blankly as another revelation hit him. Blood spurted from Tsubaki’s victim, but all of a sudden there was a bloodied shinigami standing before her. It was all fake. Again. Whoever it was, they quickly took her side, which just made matters even more confusing. Udo didn’t remember seeing this person at the pre-mission meeting. He simply couldn’t make sense of this anymore.
With each massive attack, the barren sands were whipped up, straight into the reaper’s bloodied chest, sending surges of pain through him which he could only bear thanks to the overwhelming distraction that was the mass of hollows surrounding the group. With each successive gust, the pain grew weaker and weaker, until finally the healing powers of Makoto’s realm of light closed Udo’s wounds.
As the reaper’s physical suffering was cured, so was his mental torment. Standing next to Seitaro, Udo was well within range of the medic’s latest chiyudo. The feeling of dread gradually faded away, leaving Udo to continue wondering what the heck was going on, but he was no longer panicking about it.
The reaper thought, We’re in a trap. We should be leaving, not charging forwards.
The spirit of Udo's zanpakutou, Space Ratchet, answered in his deep, resonating voice,That spell sounded like it should alleviate your fears, so why are you saying that?
It’s not fear, it’s logic. Our forces are still under the influence of whoever is behind this, so as long as we stay here, we are still their pawns.
The space-mage could see that his superiors didn’t think the same, so he hoped that they knew better than him. Presumably they should, considering their much higher ranks and far greater battle experience.
285/1478
Whew! Only 243 more words to get a feat slot w/spec point :3
Just a newb's rant about getting mindfucked and being all dizzy with all the shenanigans. You know, newbshit.
Actual summary: (Yuu): Fuck this shit, my head hurts. Let's go to Makoto's place, it's safe there. *is mindfucked by zan spirit afterwards* K.
Sorry for the chapturn >.<
The air in Hueco Mundo was undeniably stale and stifling. During this first visit to this infinite alabaster desert, she had witnessed such things – her firsts – that she could not have seen if she stayed on Seireitei – the highest kidou known to most shinigami (although she heard tattletales regarding the existence of higher ones) cast by the brunette captain of the Ninth; a captain's bankai (and several other from the stronger members, whose power barely differ from the captain himself); and possibly one of the biggest fiends a shinigami could ever face – a Vasto Lorde. Such combination in a single visit was momentous and highly overwhelming for this shinigami fledgling who barely knew enough to even release her shikai, but it came at a very, very high price. All that reiatsu pressure lingering in the air weighed down on her, like a whole sea of water being dropped on her in a waterfall fashion. And aside from the problem of breathing, there was a bigger threat –– that one which placed her life on the brink. Even with the assurance, that doubt remained in the deepest corners of her heart and the back of her mind where her darkest insecurities are nurtured well.
Her compeers whizzed past and around the 'recently roused' Vasto Lorde, in a collective attempt to vanquish this horror. There were even hollows outside their little makeshift stronghold of Templars, ceaselessly assaulting the group, although they remained at a far distance.
The arcanist's eyes shifted from one spot to another, as if in a sudden paranoia that some hollow might have snuck its way closer to her. Worse, thoughts of the communicating device being stolen rushed in, and a sudden chill ran up her spine. At some point, she even thought there were voices all around her, whispering, conspiring behind her back. Inasmuch as she wanted to aid the troop and at least help the team get rid of those pesky little hollows with all the kidou she knew, she could not. She could barely remember her own spells, let alone have the concentration amid this raucous fight.
The world almost swirled right before her very eyes. There was a searing pain in her head, like a flowerpot harboring a dormant seedling that suddenly burst out and grew at such a tremendous speed, that it seemed like something threatened to come out any minute. Or was it due to the seemingly lack of air in her lungs and her blood? Yuurei's eyebrows furrowed and within a moment, she clutched her chest, dizzy with all the commotion all around her. Her eyes frantically darted around in a desperate search for escape from this oppressive place, but to no avail. No Senkaimon, no portals, nothing. So her only option until her dizziness wears off, is to go to the safest place possible. In fact, she would have assembled the communicating device she had with her, but she was simply too dizzy; if she tried, she would have botched up the whole device, so she chose not to. She breathed heavily in an attempt to fill her lungs with enough air, and trudged towards the healer captain's direction. After all, Tabawara Udo was just around that spot. If there was one person whom she could possibly share this excruciating sensation, it would be no other than the spellblade. But, of course she was unsure. She did not know the extent of his experience, after all.
As she trudged however, her eyes caught something from her peripheral vision – something both remarkable and horrifying. There was yet another addition in the group! She knew about the arrival of the captains, but this one looked... different. In fact, with her head all muddled with thoughts, impaired visual perceptions and slight auditory hallucinations, she was unsure whether she was looking at a shinigami, or just another ally. Her eyes flitted and tried to make out as much of the man as she could, yet she failed. But if he penetrated the troop's defense and went near the Templar Queen, then he (or she, because she could not even distinguish the difference anymore) might not be a foe at all.
This is getting worse and worse, she thought, her eyes still shifting around. I can't fight at this level of strength. So... first things first... when I see a door out of Hueco Mundo, run!
Now if only you treated me like a kin before this battle ensued, you could have done something better than just... standing there, helplessly... hopelessly, a motherly voice said chastised inside her head. You know, it's such a pity, seeing you like that... powerless. Devoid of any willpower to fight, even.
She would have dismissed it as one of those voices now whispering in her head, but Yuurei knew that this voice had spoken to her a few times before. This distinct, motherly voice who had done nothing but to scold her for what she was at those precise moments.
No, please... not now, the ebony-haired shinigami pleaded as her feet continued to walk on.
Arashi Ryoujin's blank look gave way. For the better part of the last minute or so, he had been too preoccupied under whatever enchantment the creature had placed them in earlier. After hearing voices in his mind ranging from those he killed and those whom sought to behead him, he was more than put off by the recent spectacle that had taken place. Standing before all of them was someone who was thought to have been dead.
Well this certainly put the icing to the cake. Despite all of the misunderstanding, paranoia, fear, and mixed emotions shared by many of the shinigami present, there was really no way of discerning whether or not this newcomer was indeed Yuzuki Masato. Whoever he may have been though, Ryoujin wasn't going to make things complicated than they already were. The last thing that they needed here was to accuse each other of being the enemy in disguise. And with the way things were heading, that didn't seem like a far-fetched possibility...
Tch.
Taking one quick look around, he noticed how a good portion of everyone seemed to be in a stupor about what happened. Weren't they the least bit aware of the army of hollows that were about to nom on their skulls?
"We don't have time for this!" the pink-haired soul reaper began, preparing to bear Kazeoni against the incoming masked fiends, "Those hollows over there don't look they'll wait any longer."
[ 246/476 ]
ahhh
Note to self: If school is bugging you out, then escape rl life and stay active otherwise you read lots of turns
