Chapter Text
What an asshole.
You huffed as you stormed down the quiet halls.
What was the point of summoning me? Was his intention just to ridicule me? You rounded a corner and saw a set of vast, colorless doors in front of you. It was the same as everything else: bland white walls, colorless doors, and floors. The harsh fluorescent lights blazed above, coating you in an unflattering hue that blanched your skin. Dreary, isolated, and volatile, Las Noches truly felt like a prison.
Why did he attack me?
The memory of Aizen’s fingers on your skin made you warm as you continued down the narrow hallway. His harsh words, warm hands, menacing aura, soft lips. All of it pissed you off. You hated how much your body responded to him. How, with a simple touch or a simple kiss, he managed to disarm you. He managed to make you drop your guard simply because your heart beat a little faster, and your skin tingled whenever he touched you.
You melted.
Every. Damn. Time.
And after, a surge of guilt slammed into you like a freight train because you’d remember your purpose; you’d remember what he took from you and how he continued to deny you what you really, truly, desired.
It made you sick.
A rage of convoluted emotions stirred inside of you like a blender; crunching, grinding, and squeezing you until you felt like you wanted to jump out of your skin. I need to get out here.
You reached the doors and placed your palms against it feeling the coolness seep into your scorched skin.
I will get out here. You press the doors open. I will get away from him. A blast of cool air slams into you as dimmed lights peek through the door cracks— a welcomed break from the harsh lights in the hall.
I will find her…
Hushed chatter filters towards you as you enter the meeting hall. Your thoughts trailed off once you noticed the unusually large crowd scattered throughout the room. The ivory table that usually sits in the center of the room wasn’t there. Instead, the space was open, filled with a few attendees. The main attraction was the stone throne that sat atop a cascade of stairs. It was a rare addition, usually reserved when Aizen wanted to hold a council rather than an intimate meeting between the higher-ranked hollow. You looked around the room. Candelabra’s rested in staff-like holders throughout the room, alighting the space in a golden hue. The walls were made out of rock that jutted out like bleachers, surrounding the room in a half-moon. The seats already housed different groups of hollows—mostly Espada and their servants. They sat along the elevated walls, watching everyone from above. As you quietly ventured further into the room, hoping to not attract any attention, a chill ran up your spine as you noticed a few stares from the other Espada.
“Well look who decided to join us.”
A familiar voice filters over the chatter, piercing you like a needle. Nnoitra saunters over to you from a corner of the room. His tall, lanky frame emerged from a shadow. Hands-on the hilt of his oversized zanpakūto, he looked like a monster that climbed from the depths of hell. And, by the way, he lurked in the darkness and appeared when you least expected, Nnoitra lived up to his nickname the boogeyman. He stopped just to the right of you, hovering over your short stature. The sparse chatter in the room turned to whispers, as the guest took notice of both of you.
Great.
So much for sneaking in unnoticed.
“Of course I’d be here,” you continued walking towards the open space. Weaving between the room littered with Espada and ordinary Aarancars. “Lord Aizen summoned everyone.”
Nnoitra followed closely behind as you approached the large, ashen grey stoned steps leading up to Aizen's throne. “I guess you’re right,” he shifted in front of you cutting off your path. “But you pick and choose which meetings you attend, no?”
You stared up at him. Nnoitra toward over you—which wasn’t something unusual since you were used to being the shortest person in a room; most of the Espada and hollows were tall. But Nnoitra seemed larger. Was it because he was slim and it seemed like his body stretched more than the average person? Or was it the way his large mouth, always spread into a wide, unnerving smile that promised torment--especially how it covered his entire face, exposing unnaturally huge teeth that seemed too big for his slim frame? Or, perhaps, it was his zanpakūto and how he always carried it around in its released form?
It could be all of those things, but Nnoitra, just like Gin, always gave the impression of mistrust and deception. Your instincts always screamed at you to keep your distance when they were around.
“I don’t have any say over what meetings I attend. Just as you don’t, Nnoitra.” You stepped around him but he managed to block you again. “Is there something else you want to pester me about?”
The creepy, too-wide, and too-large smile seemed to grow larger—making his one good eye bead. Nnoitra leaned in, his long black hair brushing over his shoulders to curtain the sides of his face. You didn’t move. You continued to stare up at him. Nnoitra was the type that desired to intimidate others, especially women, but really, he came off like a child throwing a tantrum.
He didn’t intimidate you.
Not one bit.
And he knew that which was why he chose to pester you in the hopes of provoking you into a fight.
“But still,” his raspy voice felt like a thousand syringes pricking your skin at once. “Lord Aizen does seem pretty lenient with you.”
“You imagine things.”
“Do I?” He stood to his full height and tightened his grip on his sword while bringing his other hand to his chin. He looked past you into the distance, as he pretended to ponder. “I just find it interesting how a being like you became an Espada.” His eyes slithered back to yours, his disdain reflected in the dim lighting —making his ebony eye harden. “I mean, not only are you a woman,” he says the word with so much venom that if words were lethal, you’d surely be dead by now. “You’re a—”
The doors to the meeting room slammed open, crashing into the wall and disrupting Nnoitra’s provocation. Everyone turned their attention to the sudden disturbance.
“What the hell,” the new guest said. “The fucker’s not even here yet?”
You turned away from Nnoitra to catch Grimmjow sauntering into the room. Everyone watched as he made his way to the open space.
You knew you’d see him. Aizen summoned everyone. Still, you couldn’t help the way your heart pounded in your chest seeing him in from of you. You wanted to talk to him. Be near him. Answer his question from earlier in the hopes of explaining your side of things. You wanted to clear the air.
Your desire was so strong that your body acted on its own— moving before your mind had a chance to catch up. You took a step forward as Grimmjow neared you. You opened your mouth to speak, but he walked right past you, pushing through Nnoitra and not sparing you a glance.
“He called us here, so where is he?”
He stood in the open space, right in front of the stairs that led to the large throne at the top. One hand was in his pocket, while the other threaded into his blue hair, pushing it back as he looked around the room— consciously avoiding looking in your direction.
He’s ignoring me. You seethe.
“You should watch your mouth, Grimmjow,” said Aaroniero. “You wouldn’t want Lord Aizen to hear you bad-mouthing him in front of company.” They sat atop one of the jagged stone benches—one of the skull heads peered down at Grimmjow.
“And if I said 'I don’t give a shit'? Then what? Are you going to make me stop?”
Aaroniero didn’t say anything. The threat hung over the room as the door opened again and you watched as Stark lazily sauntered in with Lilynette, a child that seemed attached to the soft-spoken Espada.
“You shouldn’t chastise him so openly, Aaroniero,” Szayelaporro chimed in, cutting his eyes in Grimmjow’s direction. He stood on an elevated stone opposite Aaroniero, the dim light reflected in his light pink glasses obscuring his eyes. “A barbaric beast like him is always itching for a fight. No matter if it’s in Lord Aizen’s meeting chamber or in the middle of the Hueco Mundo desert—he simply lacks basic etiquette.”
Grimmjow wasn’t fazed. He seemed bored with the conversation. He ran a hand through his hair, the light blue strands sinking between his fingers. “Barbaric beast, huh?” He cracks a wide grin that exposes sharp, canine teeth. His head lolls back as a boisterous laugh erupts from him. “Yeah, I am a beast. Climbed from depths of hell to slaughter any weak sack of shit that dares to step in my way,” he lifted his head, a small strand of his hair falling to the front of his face, and faced Szayelaporro. “ No matter who they are.” He slips a hand back into his pocket and continues towards the stoned steps. “If you think chastising me is going to get under my skin, then you’re more of a bitch than I thought,” he turned away from Szayelaporo, but the animal-like grin still lingered on his face.
Szayelaporo pushed his slim frames up his nose and stared down at Grimmjow, “Be careful what you threaten Grimmjow.” A malicious grin stretched over Szayelaporro’s face. “I’d love to keep you in my lab for a few tests. A beast like you would make a fine specimen!” He clapped his hands in mock joy, “I would absolutely love to see how pests fester and evolve.”
Grimmjow paused as he neared the end of his ascent up the stairs and peaked over his shoulders at the pink-haired Espada. “A threat from the scientist,” he cupped his chin. “This is exciting. I’d clear my schedule just to kick your ass; just name the time and place, princess” he growled.
“Bickering amongst yourselves, are we?”
A disinterested voice interrupted the Espada’s spat. You glanced towards the throne at the top of the stairs and saw Aizen emerge from behind a wall, flanked by his entourage Gin Ichimaru and Kaname Tosen. The room fell silent, as everyone watched Aizen and his crew make their way across the stoned platform. The air in the room seemed to be snuffed out, as rising tension coated the open space in a bleak fog. “How tiresome.”
Your gaze tracked him— lingering on his tall frame, his sharp jawline, and his wavy hair. He looked like a painting; a beautiful intricate carving of oils placed on a canvas. A painter's muse to conjure a perfectly stunning vision of virility. It's an illusion, really. For his appearance only reflected his handsomeness. It didn't reveal the darkness inside of him; it only deceived others, hiding the cold and heatless man that he was.
Aizen was a terrifying man who commanded a room simply from his presence. He summoned a deep-seated fear that you could feel in the pit of your stomach to the marrow of your bones. It ignited your fight-or-fight response— often unable to do either if he decided to turn his wrath on to you. To make matters worse, his unpredictability instilled it; solidified the instinctual fear you felt whenever he was near. As you glanced around the room, you could see that every single being felt the same pull. They knew that their life was fleeting. If Aizen felt your life no longer mattered, he’d snuff it out as simply as fanning away a gnat.
The silence stretched as the thudding sound of boots reverberated like wavelengths throughout the room. Even with your superb hearing, it felt like every person held their breaths, waiting until Aizen decided it was time for them to breathe.
He finally made it to his chair and placed his hand on the back of it; his slender fingers curved around the stone elegantly. He scanned the room. His brown eyes met yours briefly before taking in everyone else. Aizen sat, and everyone in the room took a collective breath of relief.
Nnoitra turned on his heels and found a seat on the jagged wall near Szayelaporo. You slowly made your way to the stairs, taking two steps at a time until you reached the top and took your spot at the right of Aizen’s throne. Stark was on his left side with Lilynette, while Barragan sat slightly to your left flanked by his entourage. Gin and Tosen stood behind Aizen, flanking both his left and right sides.
You never got used to standing at Aizen’s right. And by the way each pair of eyes stared at you, the rest of the Aarancars weren’t used to it either. You knew they speculated how you earned such a prolific spot. You were a fairly new hollow and an even newer Espada. Nobody knew who you were until Aizen decided to turn you into an Espada— claiming that you were one of his “perfect” creations. And, to be frank, you weren’t sure what that meant.
“I’m glad you all could make it,” Aizen said as he leaned forward, propping his arms on top of his thighs and placing his head on top of his hands. “We have so much to discuss.”
---------———————
The council was uneventful.
Aizen talked about assignments and plans for the Espada. He talked about rules and consequences, and when there was enough time to spare, he allowed hollows to make requests. Most of the requests were rejected, though. But Aizen listened to every single one. His patience sometimes surprised you.
Still, it was a tiresome and boring summoning.
“Well,” Aizen’s voice penetrated your fog of boredom. “That concludes the announcements I wanted to go over.” He leaned back in his throne, his eyes slowly scanning the room making sure to note every single hollow in attendance. The tension never abated as the council continued, but you were happy no tragedy occurred.
At least, this time.
Often, you weren’t sure what Aizen planned, or how he’d react to certain events. He portrayed a cool temperament, but every single person in this room knew that beneath the faux surface of collectedness, his anger fluctuated like oceanic waves. You were just happy his council was over— standing for the entire time was taxing.
Aizen twined his fingers, “You all are—“
“Lord Aizen, sorry for the interruption." Gin’s voice pierced the silent, tension-soaked air of the room. “Aren't you forgetting something? Wasn’t there an example you wanted to demonstrate?”
You watched as Aizen’s gaze met Gin’s, and a silent conversation went on between them. Eventually, Aizen turned back to his audience, a slight pull at the corners of his lips unveiled a sinister smirk.
“Ah yes. My example. Thank you for reminding me, Gin.”
Please. He didn’t forget. He never forgets anything.
“Bring him in,” Aizen commanded, and the giant doors across the room opened as the crowd faced it, anticipating what was going to happen next.
As the doors opened, two Adjuchas sauntered in with a hollow between them. The hollow was of average height. A shade of pale purple coated his skin; his hollow mask was unbroken—indicating that he was a basic hollow. Its mask resembled a bird by how its strong, angular beak-like mouth jutted dangerously forward; it looked sharp. The holes in it mask where eyes should have been were impenetrably dark; as if it was a never-ending black hole. The hollow had a large, stocky build which meant that it spent a lot of time consuming the souls of the living. It walked in confidently as if it was unaware of the suffocating fear that hung over the room like a rain cloud.
As the Adjuchas and the hollow made their way to the center of the room, nobody made a sound— silently and curiously watching them; wondering why they were here. They stopped a few feet from the stoned staircase, and the Adjuchas kneeled, making sure to keep their head low. The large hollow didn’t kneel but instead looked up at Aizen.
“Lord Aizen,” one of the Adjuachas spoke. “We have brought in the hollow from the human realm, Karakura town, as instructed.”
Karakura town? Why does that sound familiar?
“Excellent,” Aizen said. “You may step back.”
The Adjuchas fell back, leaving the giant hollow to face Aizen alone. You watched his confidence subtly shift to nervousness, as he absentmindedly scratched the back of his hand.
“I sent you to the world of the living to locate a special human,” Aizen began. “You were instructed to fight him and gather intel on his power and abilities.”
Nobody said a word. Aizen continued.
“Instead, you were in this town, stuffing your face and avoiding every opportunity to engage with this special human; continuously sending lesser hollows after him and his flanklings, and not gathering enough intel from them before they died, to send to me.”
It clicked for you. It was the Kurosaki kid. The same one you were supposed to gather intel on with Ulquiorra. You were surprised to hear Aizen assigned this task to someone of this hollow rank, ultimately having to send his Espada to do the work.
“What is your reasoning?” Aizen asked the hollow.
“My Lord,” the hollow began. His voice took you by surprise. It was high-pitched. It didn’t fit his appearance. “I planned to gather intel on the human through… through observation,” he stammered. Aizen stayed quiet. “I sent the other hollows before I confronted him because I wanted to know what I was dealing with.” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “I was going to fight him eventually. And…And kill him too! I wanted to bring his head on a platter for you my…my Lord.”
This hollow. How old is he? With such ludicrous ideals and the lack of basic etiquette, he’d learn fast that—
“I don’t remember asking you to bring his head on a platter,” Aizen leaned forward, “what you so foolishly declared.” Aizen crossed one leg over the other without breaking eye contact with the hollow. You could see the hollow confidence slowly dissipate. “…Your role in all of this was to die.”
You didn’t think the restlessness in the room could become denser, but suddenly you felt as if you couldn’t breathe.
“My…my Lord,” the young, arrogant hollow stuttered, “I… I had a plan, I promise I did.”
“But your plan wasn’t the one I instructed you to carry out. Your job as hollow is to blindly, dumbly, follow my rule, and die when I say so. I didn’t allow you to keep your brain to think.”
Aizen turned to you and you saw a curious spark in his brown eyes. He was enjoying this.
“With you standing in front of me, alive and well, you ignored my orders.”
You didn’t instruct him to die, and you know it.
“But you can fulfill your duty, and die at my feet.”
“Sir—“ the hollow choked in surprise. “Please…please, I…I can go back and…and..”
“And?” Aizen cupped his chin as he gazed down at the hollow. “Die at the hands of a human, rather than have the honor to die at my whim? I’m hurt.”
“No...no Sir. I…I don’t want either,” the hollow hung his head. “I want to live my Lord.”
“That was never an option for you,” Aizen turned to you once more. His deep brown iris latched on to you, and you knew exactly what he wanted before the dreadful words fell from his lips. “Y/n, dispose of this hollow.”
The command was final. Quick. And even though you sensed that he was going to command the death of this hollow, you hadn’t expected it to be by your hands. To be frank, it startled you. He’s never instructed you to kill anyone.
Usually, his henchman or one of the other hollows carried out his death wishes. But for him to command you to do it—to kill a hollow who evoked so much child-like naivety was cruel and calculated.
And you hesitated.
You didn’t want to kill him. He only made a mistake. One mistake. Yet, Aizen didn’t tolerate mistakes. You gathered yourself. If you refused, he’d kill you too. You started to descend the stairs, your palms warm with your cero cresting the surface of your skin.
“W…wait L..Lord Aizen,” the hollow cried as he moved away from you. “I…I won’t do it a…again,” he tripped over his feet and stumbled backward but he stayed standing. His large palms are in front of his body as he quickly scanned the room silently begging for help.
Everyone avoided his eyes.
This was inevitable. Aizen wanted to make an example out of someone, and sadly, he was the demonstration. His one mistake will cost him his life. He will die by your hands at Aizen’s wish.
You neared him. His large frame towering over you. It didn’t faze you. Not one bit. The heat of your cero warmed the palms of your hand as the red flame grew brighter. You bring your hand in front of you, ready to haul the cero at him, and watch his body disintegrate into nothing.
“P..please!” He yelled as he turned on his heels and headed towards the large doors. “P..please, give m…me another chance,” he reached the doors and tried to push them open but they wouldn’t budge. He turned, pressing his back against the doors. His face was etched in undiluted fear.
Your heart squeezed. The terror in his eyes reminded you of your family when they met their end.
“I…I won’t do it again,” his voice cracked as a sob choked out of him. He looked around the room once more, hoping that his brethren would help save him.
No luck.
In a last-ditch effort to save his life, the hollow conjured up his cero to hurl at you. You dodge the attack easily. The heat of the cero brushed past you as you sidestepped out of its range. You heard the loud slap against the floor when the cero met it. A loud cracking sound echoed throughout the room from the force of energy.
“Attah boy,” you hear Grimmjow whistle from somewhere in the distance. “Fight for your life.”
The rest of the crowd began to egg the hollow on. Approving in his futile attempt to escape his impending death. He hauled another cero, each attack becoming erratic and unfocused, as he ran in circles around the room. You sidestepped each attempt. Not even breaking a sweat.
The hollow didn’t seem to have aimed at you to kill you. Each attack was a diversion because as soon as he hurled his cero, he took off running. Seeking space between you two. You glanced at Aizen sitting at the top of the staircase, and you knew he was becoming impatient.
I have to wrap this up.
The hollow hurled another cero at you and you dodged, and as he turned on his heels and attempted to run, you appeared in front of him in the blink of an eye. You reached out and jammed your hand into his chest. Blood splattered onto your skin as you watched it trickle onto the floor in front of him. You wanted it to be quick and somewhat painless, but now you shoved your arm into his chest and created a gaping hole to immobilize him.
“I… won’t,” he dropped to his knees his head hung low and blood sprouted from his mouth. His already ebony eyes turned darker, and more cold. You remove your hand. Your entire arm was drenched in his blood. You probably could've removed his heart, if you thought about it sooner. But jamming your arm back inside his chest didn't appeal to you. You didn't want to get his blood on you in the first place -- which was why you chose to use your cero. Yet, here you were, covered in blood and the sound of the young hollow cries.
Even on the verge of death, he begged for his fleeting life on a continuous loop. You couldn’t take this anymore.
I’ll make it quick. You raised your arm above your head, ready to haul the cero. Just at that moment, the young hollow looked up at you-- wetness spilled down his purple cheeks, “my brother,” he cried in between a cascade of sobs. “What about my brother?”
Hearing that made you falter. But feeling Aizen’s gaze on you, made you quickly recover. You wouldn’t let him see your weakness. Aizen hated weakness; only seeing it as a hindrance. He’d kill you if he felt you were a burden.
And you weren’t ready for your life to be snuffed out yet. The irony of the situation pained you.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered so low you weren’t sure if it was for your ears or his. The empty holes of his mask widened as if he heard you, but you didn’t give him another chance to beg as you hauled the cero at him and watched his body ignite in flames. The reddish glow of the cero licked his skin, weaved into his screams, and sizzled until his existence was no more.
The sickly sweet smell of death wafted throughout the room as the flames died, leaving an outline of his body coated in black residue on the floor. The excited crowd became hushed as the hollow's life force ceased to exist.
You kept your back to the crowd and Aizen. You had to collect yourself, because, in all honesty, this was one of the most cruel things you had to do. His blood cooled on your skin. Your skin no longer felt warm from the cero. You glance over your shoulder to find Aizen gazing at you. His expression was unreadable.
Shit.
Was all you could think as you stepped over the lifeless remnants of the hollow you murdered and walked toward the large doors. With two hard knocks, the door creaked open and you exited the room.