Bloody Homecoming [M/Closed.NDE]

It wasn't every day the Trecera felt the boom of a Garganta entering into her castle. Nobody had been that stupid since her first week here. The castle had been unoccupied and various rabble had been using it off and on before she took control. She’d swiftly cut an end to their various people who came into the castle without her approval. Most often it involved the loss of blood but in this case she wasn’t so certain. The iron rich smell of blood already filled her castle by the time she made it to the the garganta. Bloody prints along her walls washed clean as she walked past them. The thickened blood boiling down to her control as she ripped the water from it’s owner and took it for herself. As she walked a mist of blood followed her filling the air. A bit shocking, even gross to a degree, but it would make an excellent point when she found whoever was stupid enough to walk into her castle without invitation.

Only three people had that offer and they were all much stronger than this man was.

She could tell he was a man from the feeling of his reiatsu, if she could call it that, he was half dead. Probably closer if he was foolish enough to step into her domain. She caught up with his shambling form in no time at all. Smirking, not that he could see from behind, as she called out to him. ”I think you dropped something.” With a flick of her wrist the blood returned to him, sort of, shooting out from behind to cover him in it’s thick, sticky, bloody mess. He looked like an animal skinned alive when she’d finished with him.

”Now if you’ll kindly get out of my castle. I don’t remember giving you an invitation.”

Words: 314
GP: 6 (6)

Ihateyou

Souta didn't feel it until it was too close. Right behind him even. Were his senses that dulled by pain? It was a girl's voice he heard, saying that he dropped something. He smirked, painfully. It was a good joke. The kind he'd make if he didn't have a literal hole or two in his torso. Water splashed on him from behind, and he twitched. No, not water. It was blood, some of it splashing to his front, the liquid still warm. It was his blood. This girl was nice enough to return his blood to him, he should thank her, shouldn't he? But he'd have to turn around first. And after coming to a stop, pushing himself to move again was painful. As he was about to turn, her next words caught his ear. Her castle? She was an Espada then?

Souta turned, bringing himself to a full stand, the holes on his torso fully revealed, his body only covered by the tattered remains of his pants, now barely a loincloth. Burns covering most of it, bits of flesh blasted off, and of course those damn painful holes. But he still had a small grin on his face. Not as big as usual, but big enough. He had to bring himself to a full stand when he faced this woman of course. His arrogance and pride wouldn't let him present himself any differently. Even if the action made him cough up more blood, staining his chin redder and sending the rest of it to the floor. Even if it put him in pain that made him want to double over. He stayed upright with that small grin on his face, all he could muster in this situation.

He studied her for a couple of seconds now that he could see her. Short. Small. His pesquisa told her she was powerful. As powerful as him? No, more. But something nagged him. Something was wrong... Something smelled like self righteous dangle angel. She was a Shinigami. What was a Shinigami doing in Las Noches? Was this some kind of aggressive response to what he'd just done in Texas? That was some hell of a fast response. If it was, he didn't really have a chance of bluffing his way through it. The injuries on his body gave his identity away as much as the black six on his collar bone did. But that wasn't it, was it? His muscles tensed as he went through that train of though, his hands sparking a little. But the sparks died as fast as they came into existence, his muscles relaxed. No. Souta wasn't injured enough to be that short on mental faculties. She'd called this her castle. She wouldn't have bothered if she was some kind of assassin. She'd have just killed him, wouldn't have bothered to say anything.

Was she really an Espada then? She had called this her castle. And he was definitely in Las Noches. How much had changed while he was asleep if a Shinigami was one of the Espada? He still couldn't put trickery outside of the realm of possibility. Thinking more wouldn't do him any good, he'd have to talk to her. And so he opened his mouth to talk, and promptly coughed up more blood. Fuck. That really hurts.

"You'll have to forgive my suspicion, but how does a Shinigami get a castle in Las Noches? I'm a bit behind on current events so if you'd update me I'd be very appreciative."

His voice was somewhat strained, but still had his trademark pride in it. His words were punctuated by a couple coughs. He wasn't really able to stop coughing up blood. He could feel it sloshing around in the bottom of his lungs by now. He should probably be more worried about that than he was.

"And who exactly are you?"
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WC/GP/TGP 653/13/19

The man seemed a conflict of emotions. At first he seemed to want to laugh, her crack had been a good one, and then he was worried? Had he not realized he was in someone else's castle? Was this arrancar really that stupid? She'd know in good time she supposed. He'd turned around and even through his blood coated form she could see he had been in a battle. The wounds screamed of Shinigami rather then another Arrancar. They were far to precise to have been dealt by any of the other races. The Garganta had been a good hint though.

Covered in burns, blood, and barely dressed in a loincloth he was grinning at her. She couldn't help but sigh at him. Her annoyed look carried all the words of annoyance she didn't say. He was bleeding in her castle. She didn't like that. The only people that bled in her castle were made to bleed by her. She didn't like people setting precedents if it wasn't her. What kind of Espada let another do set precedents and do things in her castle? That was practically a sign of weakness if you were an Espada. Or.. something like that. Honestly she didn't give much of a fuck about the rules of an Espada. She was the Anti-Espada Espada being a Vaizard who preferred to be alone. Yaksha's show while he was half-dead hadn't helped. She hadn't cared before but after? She really didn't care.

The longer Sakamoto stood there the more she was positive the man was an idiot. He stood, he stared, he even tensed for a fight for a second. Emotions were running around and Sakamoto couldn't help but chuckle just a bit. Any chance of a struggle seemed to fade away as he hacked up more of his blood. He was dying it seemed. Why didn't he regenerate? Was he one of the idiots of the community that couldn't? Even she could regenerate. Definitely an idiot if he didn't know who she was. "I'm the King's choice. The Vaizard. Espada Tercera Sakamoto Miki and you're still in my castle. Bleeding. I don't like that. Regenerate and get the hell out."

Words: 364
GP: 7 (13)

The king's choice eh?

These words made Souta think of Tova. Tova Diabló. He'd met the man once, in what seemed like another life time now. He'd missed a year since them. Their conversation had been short. Souta had gotten the Tattoo. Besides that he didn't really have much opinion on the man. He was still the king from what Souta had heard. At least some things didn't change while he asleep. What the heck was a Vizard though? Some kind of title she gave herself? He was about to ask her that when her name struck him.

Sakamoto Miki.

He'd heard that name before. Hell, he'd just made a promise around that name, that if he got what he wanted, he'd delivered a message. And Tokiyo had certainly delivered the fight of a life time. So Souta would be one lying bastard if he didn't fulfill his end of the bargain. He laughed, somehow not coughing up blood this time. He was lucky sometimes. "Oh this is fuckin' perfect. Not even an hour after I me-" And there was the cough, a couple of them in fact, back to back. But he composed himself again quickly. "Not even an hour after he asked me to deliver this message I meet you. You see, fun fact, these wounds were made by a man called Tokiyo Fujikagi. And he told me to tell you... What was it... Oh right! He misses you, and he'll only ever have eyes for you. Makes sense now why he told me to tell you if you're an Espada now. Even his tone when saying it makes sense now. You left the Seireitei and came to us. I'm almost curious as to how that happened, but I'm kind of concerned with other things right now." As if on cue, he coughs again. That cough is getting annoying. His hand wipes the blood from his mouth, the white of both his hands already stained with a gradient of red colors, some of the blood dry, some drying, some congealing, and some fresh.

"As for regenerating, that's not really my shebang. I don't do that flashy instant stuff that some hollowkind do. I heal slow. Faster than normal, but slow compared to that instant stuff. Too slo-" Another cough, and more blood. His voice was raspy now, and sounded wet from all the blood in his throat. "Too slow for this. Was planning to go to my castle and find this servant I inherited from Kuraisaki who's rather good at healing but... that plan's kinda fucked now, isn't it."

He laughed at himself, getting a few in before blood flew out of his mouth again. This was really a distressing amount of blood leaving his body. His lungs were filling up with blood too. Breathing was getting hard.

It'd be really fucking pathetic if he died after getting home and after sparing Tokiyo's life so he could fight him again.

God damn it.

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WC/GP/TGP 515/10/29

The Kings Choice

Saying it now, those words, they still made her feel odd. Out of place. She was a Shinigami, Vaizard technically but that was semantics, here in Las Noches. There wasn’t much right about that. Still, when she said it, she felt right. That there was something entirely right and okay about the position she found herself in. That as long as she served him it was okay. That was the truth of the matter and that’s all there was to it.

Her inner most thoughts ran away from her as she heard the man’s laugh. He laughed, he coughed, he sputtered blood all over the place. Then his name came. The raven with an eye missing. The one-eyed man. Tokiyo Fujikagi. Her former ace, apprentice, and recruit. A man whom she had let live had done this all for the sake of a message? She liked that.

She had to laugh at the irony, and she did, after all hadn’t she done something similar for Titus? She’d sent a fraccion of his through a portal with a pile of broken ribs to deliver a message but this was sadistic beyond that. The arrancar before her was barely able to hold himself together and yet he was to deliver a message?

This Tokiyo she liked.

This man before her? She didn’t. Message delivered. He was useless to her now.

She was on him in an instant. Hand wrapped around his throat as she lifted his bloodied form above her. The crackle of Shunko filling the air and void around them as her eyes fluttered over him. Those blue iris’ practically aglow with thoughts of what to do with him now that his purpose was done. She smiled a sadistic little smile when she decided. ”Let me help you with that regeneration problem.”

She’d done something like this once, to herself, it had hurt like hell and she was being gentle. This time, for an arrancar, she was trying to make it painful. He had sullied her castle and she was going to leave a message etched into this man’s very body for the rest of Las Noches.

Stay out of my castle.

She had sent his own blood back to him as a sick little joke. The Arrancar was covered in it now and she used it to ‘help’ him. Blood around him, coating him, and inside of him was hers to command as she spoke to it in her own language. The language of the water within it. It twisted, turned, and bubbled back to her. Blood grabbing at bits of torn muscle and bone and stitching it back together. She paid special attention to the man’s skull. He seemed to have taken quite the beating to that. So proud of my little Tokiyo… Blood seeped into the cracks of broken bones and pulled them back together in a violent struggle as the blood acted almost like glue to aid in the mending.

His arms had torn muscles, too much exertion most likely, and the strands pieced themselves back together one by one with her aid. There had been two rather large holes in his chest that she went to work on next. The remaining tissue stretched thanks to her and stitched together again to close the wound. The inner-trauma was the last thing she handled. Organs forming and returning to place while the blood flow returned to normal, or close to it as she could get, and flowed freely through his body.

She almost let him wheeze and cough with his damaged lungs. Almost. She was kind enough to fix their issue. His coughing was annoying. The hemorrhaging of blood from them, and into them, stopped as they patched together again.

It wasn’t a complete healing of his wounds but it was pretty close. She could have used a bit of Kaido to handle the rest but that would have been too kind.

She wanted him to hurt a little bit at least or there was no fun to her day at all.

She let go of his throat when she was ‘done’ and dropped him to the ground. All in all? It had happened in a relatively short period of time. A minute or two at most. To him it had probably felt like hours.

Sakamoto had gotten hours worth of fun out of it at least.

”There, you should be able to regenerate the rest in no time at all. If not? You really should go spend some time with one of the scientists here in Las Noches and get them to fix that for you. It’s pretty pathetic not to be able to regenerate instantly. Even I can do that.”

Words: 826
GP: 16 (29)

She moved quickly. If he was at his peak, he probably could have followed her movements, maybe even have kept up with her. As he was, he was in the air before he could register anything. The energy around her hand as she held him up was immediately familiar. That technique Tokiyo had used. It was different though. Souta decided that Tokiyo’s was better, somehow more elegant than that of the Tercera. Despite the energy, her hand on his neck didn’t hurt much. It was annoying more than anything, making his breathing even harder.

She said she was going to help him with his regeneration, and he believed her. If she was going to kill him, she’d be using a different grip. That or she was absolutely horrible at using her body. Even as he thought that he could feel his blood moving in his body, and his muscles clenched up as much as they could, rejecting the sensation. It was alien. But before he could really appreciate how weird it felt, it began to hurt. Hurt wasn’t a good enough word. He was in excruciating pain. It was unfathomable, mind breaking, soul-shattering agony. He could feel every injury Tokiyo had inflicted to him all over again. His left hand shot up, wrapping around her wrist. But it didn’t try to pull it away. It pushed it in harder. Bloodshot eyes shot wide open, his mouth spreading wide into a bloody grin, a raspy laugh escaping. The volume of his words was dulled by the pressure of her hand, but they were still audible.

”Do it. . . More!”

This pain was amazing. It was awe-inspiring. He could feel his fractured bones pulling back together, sticking to each other. He could feel his muscles knitting themselves back together. He could feel the holes in his torso being stretched over and stitched together. It was like he was reliving the entire Alamo.

It was perfect.

All the pain these wounds would have caused him, all the pain that Tokiyo earned, condensed into as short a period as possible. Was it even that short? It felt like hours, but it had to be no more than minutes. His perception of time was understandably skewed. His lungs were draining now, his breath coming easier even with her hand around his neck. Another eternity of pain and they were empty, his breath no longer backed by gurgles and sloshes.

Her hand released his throat, and his hand released her wrist. She probably expected him to fall to his knees. Maybe even just collapse into a pile. But he landed on his feet, and remained standing. The pain had died down now that she wasn’t moving his blood so unnaturally, and it was only agonizing now. Souta could deal with agonizing in his sleep.

She was talking, and Souta was half listening, as his hands roamed across his body, testing just how repaired he was. His flesh protested his contact. It was tender, and not done healing. But it was a start, and he wasn’t in any danger of death now. This way of healing really was incredible, almost as good as his own. She stopped talking, and he stopped exploring his stitched together wounds to look at her, still grinning wide.

”Thanks. Would have sucked to not felt all that pain when I found that servant of mine. After blowing out Tokiyo’s chest, it wouldn’t be right for me not to feel the pain from the wounds he inflicted on me. He earned every ounce of it.”

Souta let out a quick laugh, wiping away a bit of blood still left on his lips.

”I hope he found some good doctors after I threw him back to the Seireitei. At least one as good as you. I want him in one piece next time I get my hands on him again. He was so much fun. . . “

He almost trailed off, jarring himself back to keep talking to her just in time. And being Souta, now that his immediate concerns of not dying were dealt with, he of course shifted to his secondary concerns. Flirting. His voice was surprisingly smooth and level as he spoke, considering how much pain he was just in, and was still in.

”So, since I’m not longer gushing blood out of several new orifices, how about you show me around your tower? If your hospitality matches your cuteness and healing ability, it'll be fun.”

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WC/GP/TGP 767/15/44