The Beast That Shouted Love [Xiaobei/Kionchi]

Was it always so white?

His hand shook as another frozen gale burned his face. Even the wind was silent that night, the only sound the clattering of his sheathed zanpakuto, his hand clenched firmly around its hilt. There were no signs of life in the otherwise abandoned shrine, the freshly fallen snow wiping away any traces of good or wrongdoing in an indifferent sheet of white. Had the sky been any clearer he might have seen his breath, his eyes looking dead ahead at a small snow-covered hut that once enshrined some minor god of fortune. The cult had removed all but the main honden, but Kionchi was one of the few who knew its innermost hall had sat empty for years.

It was the same thing all over again.

The door slid open, a younger midwife stacking boxes on one side of the room as a radiant beauty longued on the tatami watching the embers of her hearth flicker in the wind. She didn't look up until he closed the door behind him, the short-haired midwife scurrying toward him with a suitcase emblazoned with the crest of the Third Division of the Gotei. Lifting to take the case, he noticed the white robes on his arms. He was instructed to act on behalf of the Third. Another detail he'd long since uncovered. This was all so familiar, yet why did he flinch when he lifted his hand from Tsukuyomi to take the case.

It was the same as it'd always been. He'd take the case and sit. He'd watch the mother play with her newborn twins on her lap. An argument would ensue. She'd be scalded as Kionchi winced in the corner, unable to interfere with the clan's affairs anymore than necessary.

The same guilt eating away at his heart as he watched her wait for her daughters to die.

The same shame that drove him to end the experiment on his own terms.

To draw his zanpakuto and put an end to her madness.

But was it always so black?

All feeling left him as he watched the glass blade bleed black, tendrils creeping down its otherwise perfectly clear crystal until he could see his own eyes in the absolute darkness of her released blade. A chill ran up his spine as watched firsthand the release of a zanpakuto that was never meant to be remembered. Those burning black roots dug into his hand and worked their way up his arm, the seductive gaze of Sugata Kaede only hardening his resolve as she began her mad cackling at the sight of her executioner: Not the Shinigami, but rather the Zanpakuto named Tsukuyomi.

A thousand and one blades leapt from him hand, leaving behind a single cut. Blood poured from the clean wound on her neck, pouring over her own children as she kept her gaze locked on his own, neither screaming nor wincing as she let her carmine essence soak into the blankets and robes and tatami below. He looked away, wiping off his sword and tossing the blood-stained towel into the snow-covered garden outside. A single flower in a field of white.

But was it always so red?

WC: 533; GP: 10; TGP: 28

Consciousness returned just long enough for him to sense the black flow running through the last of that brilliant golden energy. He didn't have time to smile, only tighten the grip on his sword and lower his head as he accepted his fate and slipped into the void. He dove into the garganta headfirst, the dark maw swallowing him like a fly before leaving Soul Society with one fewer shinigami.

“At least this time around its a familiar ceiling,” He didn't need his eyes to know where he was, the overwhelming aura of the one and only King of Las Noches staining even the table under his sandals with a familiar hue. The banquet room was in better shape than he remembered, the table and chairs one broken and splintered under his spine long since restored to their former glory.

Hopping off the table and onto the familiar petrified stone of Las Noches he cracked his neck once on either side before stretching his spine. It surprised him that the King wasn't waiting for him. More than that, it made him question who it was that brought him here if it wasn't the King spying on him with one of his ghosts. The idea that Kiriko was behind all this made him shiver, but he was certain it was garganta that broke his fall. And while he'd suspected intervention had he seriously made an attempt at suicide, it was too much of a coincidence that he'd complete the King's Puzzle moments before he found himself in the same room where it was first given to him. But who else was capable of knowing what was going on inside his own head?

A thought interrupted by the sudden golden crash of an explosion black lightning in the corner of the room, the unexpected piquing of a being he just barely knew. A specter of a memory he'd only seen in the dreams of souls he'd touched a lifetime ago, so vague and without form that even the feline attuned Kionchi found himself struggling to remember either name or face. Only position, as luck would have it, moments before the he turned toward the mass of energy on the other side of the room and called out:



WC: 380; GP: 7; TGP: 35

Xiaobei slunk through the shadows, her lithe form pacing up and down as the stone walls pressed down on her from all sides. She had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity. Abba had set the task, had given her all the tools, and had even trusted his daughter enough to leave an empty stage upon which to work from, and yet she was still antsy to have this all over and done with. She wanted to prove to him that she was ready, that she was strong, and the only way to do that was to rip this Tsukiyo Kionchi apart bit by bit with his own sword.

The call had come earlier this morning, a report carried by some lowly Arrancar. Xiaobei had snarled him out of her room after hearing what he had to say, the low rumbling in her throat picking up in pitch as her heart thrummed like liquid fire against her veins. She wanted to fight. To taste blood and gnash her teeth against her opponent’s flesh. But there was no one there, not yet, and she had contented herself with preparing for the coming battle.

Since her reformation Xiaobei had found herself a new wardrobe, eagerly perusing this idea of fashion with a haphazard glee. Long bell sleeves flapped at the air as she moved, their edges tied in place with a thick ribbon around her upper-arm. A tight-fitting and high-collared mandarin shirt hugged at her chest and hips, the clasps left untied and loose. Narrow trousers ended up bunched around her ankles, little red silk shoes embroidered with dragons cupping her curled toes.

She had just finished tying the last ribbon in place and pulling on her overcoat when the undeniable urge to move hit her like a Menos to the back. Scuttling from her chambers, she raced down the empty halls and ended up in the dining hall. And then the silence had set in. Long empty minutes drawing onward as her brain melted and her eyes grew filmy with boredom.

Eventually, all of this was shattered, even her errant musings, as a large rip appeared in the ceiling of the room and out tumbled her target. He took his sweet time regaining his senses, rolling over on the table he’d landed on and casting about the room as if looking for something important. Xiaobei didn’t waste what she was given, staring at him with wide green-gold eyes as she scoured his soul for any small imperfections which would signify a greater weakness.

At his address, she realized he was finally all there in the head, and she strolled out from the shadows with a flick of her long black hair and a confident swagger. Thrusting her hip out to the side, hands resting at her waist, Xiaobei smiled a toothy grin and cocked her head to better investigate her prey. “Oi~ Precious! Where’d you come from, huh? And didn’t you realize you were late?” She looked him up and down, letting her disappointment show in her downturned eyes and twisted frown. This didn’t look like a challenge. If she had been tasked with eating him, Xiaobei was pretty sure she would have had no worried at all. But as it was, the fight was different. Not so disparate, though, she had realized, having done her best to study Abba’s tactics before this fight. But different enough that she wanted to be a bit cautious instead of throwing herself at him in her normal manner.

Waltzing up to the taller man, she leaned in close and poked him hard in the chest with her boney finger, “I’ve been waiting for you, hey! And here I was thinking you actually wanted to get Tsukuyomi back. But I guess you really are the loser she’s still not able to admit you are, someone who lets their loved one take all the “sin” in their life just so they can stay clean.” Her words were a purred croon, dripping with easy amusement. She reached around her back, jostling the blade strapped out of sight enough to make an audible metal rattle, and then smiled even wider than before as she invaded his personal space.

WC: 700 | GP: 14 | Total GP: 14

He could almost feel the crackling hiss of her energy as she slunk out of the shadows. A gold shadow slunk past his peripherals, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of turning his head to face her. His widening smile and the cracking of his neck was enough of an acknowledge for the goading little princess; His senses focused on the tiny twitching ears on her forehead as she tried her best to antagonize him. Were they even real, or just a projection of her spirit? An inconvenient curiosity that piqued his interest far more than the confirmation of his theory that Erasmus had kept at least a part of Tsukuyomi for himself. But why was it always cats?

Don't listen.

“If I knew Las Noches had so many precious little kittens I wouldn't have wasted so much time in Seireitei.” He turned toward her once she was done trying to push his buttons. Most of them were her former lives, and she'd clearly grown since her days as a bestial porcukitty screaming out "Abba Abba Abba" every other line. And yet he couldn't help but shake a feeling of deja-vu as he watched that golden energy wisping around her lithe frame, traces of energy working from the ground up, outlining the shape her legs and hips and weaving around her abdomen until they came to rest at the razor sharp tips of those slender well-toned arms. It was almost as though a part of him knew this Xiaobei more than any other, but none of them recalled anything resembling a zanpak-

Don't look.

Their radiating presence washed over him like a wave of heat from an oven. The smallest sliver of silver peeking from behind her back: a presence too timid to make itself known but too familiar to keep herself hidden. His heart palpated at the sight, her demur aura immediately pulling itself back as though it could feel the excitement in his chest. A cold lump in his stomach began to curl and seethe. He could already feel the anger from deep within him, a steady growl of defiance and hatred that clearly contradicted his otherwise overwhelming elation. A small part of him resentful of Tsukuyomi's presence, still afraid of her absolution in the light Amaterasu's truth.

Just Kill them. Both of them. All of them!

He felt the chill of her breath on the nape of his neck, a stark contrast to the warmth of Xiaobei and Tsukuyomi. The pair made up of equal parts sacrifice and longing. Two virtues Kionchi reserved only for himself, and in succumbing to that selfishness, had never once genuinely felt since he joined the Gotei. Since he gave up his soul for the power and purpose Tokiyo had promised, manifesting that lost part of him as the very blade that hung on Xiaobei's back.

They've already blinded you once. That voice in his head was starting to sound desperate. As though she just now realized Kionchi hadn't given her words more than a second of though. Don't let them trick you again. He didn't even flinch as he drew in another breath.

“Princess Xiaobei, I presume,” He gave her a light bow, too shallow to show any real respect, but deep enough that she would catch the sarcasm. “I don't expect someone as sheltered as you to understand our relationship.” Are you even listening to me? “She did what she felt was necessary. We all did.” That's not me! Its just his tricks! “And if you don't understand the sacrifices I've made for her...”

There was a moment of silence, that wrathful spirit inside of him waiting with baited breath to see what would come next. Did he know? How could he. Even as he slipped his hand off the fake katana, she refused to believe it. She refused to hear that timid squeak from across the room. A quiet chirp deep within Xiaobei's inner world, a light-breeze rustling the long black hair of a tear-stained little bird. Lifting his arm, Kionchi pointed straight through the haughty arrancar and right at the real Tsukuyomi before letting loose his declaration:

“Then you have no right to speak of love.”

WC: 700; GP: 14; TGP: 49

He was torn up into little itty bits. She could see the divisions, the fractures of his soul, the deep fissure that was limned with cracks and dents. He was holding himself together, neat bits of ribbon and tape gluing the broken places into a semblance of wholeness. But the monster lurked in his head and thousands of lost moments ticked in his blood and no matter what conviction the little Shinigami felt beating away in his chest it was nothing compared to the eternity of lies he had built his life on. Even now he couldn't admit to himself what was right there in front of him.

Xiaobei hadn't come here thinking or caring anything for this Kionchi fellow. Rather she had liked listening to Tsukuyomi's stories because they seemed fun, fairy tales to fall asleep to. But Kionchi himself had been amorphous. She didn't need to know him to do her duty, and hadn't quite wanted to see him as a person either. Now though... To think that this person laid claim to Tsukuyomi... it was insulting! The bird-brain was kinda flighty and cried a lot, but she loved with all of her heart. And Kionchi couldn't even do that, having thrown away bits of his heart just because he didn't want to face them.

It was ugly. Truly and utterly ugly.

No matter what power he covered his soul in, no matter what words he spouted, he was a gritty and grimy creature. Someone who couldn't even really understand love itself, the most pure emotion that existed. How could he stare at the other half of his soul and not weep to have her back? How could he shudder with this jealousy, this animosity?

Xiaobei might be the monster in the room, but at least she saw herself clearly.

Her disgust lend her an air of sophistication that the teenaged Hollow often lacked, lips peeled back in a sneer as the sword on her back thrummed. There was a tinkling sound, like the jangle of bells, and Xiaobei could feel Tsukuyomi's surprise and longing through their faint link. The sword wanted this man even though he had all but rejected her, letting that animal colonize his mind as if it wasn't a sacred place for Tsukuyomi alone. If it wasn't for that quiet love and devotion, there even in the face of such bitter betrayal, Xiaobei might have broken her promise to her Abba and just lunged forward to bite this Shinigami's throat out.

Instead, she paused, turning in line with him so that they stood face to face. Maybe if she pushed him, following the fault lines in his soul that she could so clearly see now with the Sight her Abba had given to her, maybe then he would realize his idiocy and rush back to Tsukuyomi. Maybe she could be the one to reunite a love. First he would have to break, not just as revenge but because that evil was so deeply seated that nothing less would ensure his true change of character.

Xiaobei put a false smile on her lips, all arrogant conceit and princessly drama, “You presume correctly, Shinigami scum. This one is Xiaobei Mei, Princess of Hueco Mundo and protector of Tsukuyomi.” She felt the sword jolt at that line and her smile grew more genuine but all the sharper as she patted the blade on her back. She wanted Tsukuyomi to realize the difference, to compare this man who wouldn't have her for the Hollow who appreciated everything about her. bb]“He doesn't deserve you,”[/b] she whispered mind to mind, a sympathetic trill. “But we will see if we can fix that, 'kay bird-brain?”

“You think your small sacrifices equal love? Love is far grander than that, far deeper, and you have not yet even begun to learn what it feels like let alone what it means, Kionchi! Perhaps I have not lived as long as you, but I understand this at least. When I love I dig my teeth in and I never let go. Ever. And yet here you are, full of a new mistress' touch, and saying to my face that you know anything about love?” she felt incredulous, a laugh tinged with disbelief escaping her lips, and Xiaobei rolled her eyes at the foolish man.

“Admit it. You just wanted someone to be there with you. So what does it matter if it's Tsukuyomi or that traitor who took her place? It's all the same to you. You might as well just erase your memories of Tsukuyomi while you're at it and be content with that new woman.”

“Forget all about Tsukuyomi, and there will be no more conflict. That's what you're good at, right? Running away?” She was angry now, and her aura surged casting a harsh light across the stone walls.

WC: 807 | GP: 16 | Total GP: 30

Her spine shivered as her eyes worked their way around his soul. Bit by bit and crack by crack every imperfection the two of them had spent so many decades trying to fix was clearly exposed to those all-seeing golden eyes. The wayward Tsukuyomi wriggled in discomfort, the dark stone cave so much colder without Xiaobei's warmth. All she could do was sit and watch in a puddle of her own tears, the small pool of golden light giving her something of a window to the outside world. A vision of her Kionchi, eyes and neck wrapped in red, and that horrible fake blade slung along his waist.

Kionchi...sama...

She could feel Xiaobei's anger, the stone floor of the cave getting progressively warmer as she pitted her skepticism up against Kionchi's determination. Part of her was touched that Xiaobei was so willing to fight for her honor. And yet she couldn't deny that part of her blush stemmed from Kionchi's bold declaration of love. Her declaration of war.

And maybe if he hadn't just drawn that fake sword, the idea of Xiaobei tearing him limb from limb wouldn't have caused her own lips to curl in morbid excitement.

“The cloistered princess is going to lecture someone about running away from reality?!” He slowly drew his mirrored Katana, Xiaobei's eyes reflected in its surface. He knew since her talk with Beldame that she was a fake. Part of him probably knew all along, but he was too desperate to admit it. Perhaps he was dependent on her after all, unable to imagine coping without Tsukuyomi. But wasn't that what love was? A twisted codependence of sacrifice and duty that sought to drag both parties down to by sharing their weaknesses. The exact kind of bargain he'd made with Tsukuyomi the first time he released her; The exact kind of insanity he'd subjected himself to time and time again since his eyes were opened the last time he was in Las Noches.

The nameless spirit in his hands didn't bother asking any more questions. She knew she'd been bested by his acuity, her anger manifest as that icy mint mist lapping off the razor sharp edge of her manifest blade. But no matter how many battles she'd lose to the man, ultimately she was completely confident that she'd long since won the war. What rifts were left in the man's fragile soul were all but under her control: frozen shut and made forever out of reach of any lesser spirit's influence so long as she reigned.

Kionchi-kun.

A smile crossed her lips as both the katana and her hand steadied themselves. There was one side to this truth she hadn't considered, a support she had thought too shaky to lean on that she just now realized was perhaps the most sturdy in the entirety of Kionchi's ransacked soul. The fact he'd unmasked her was arbitrary. The only thing that mattered was how close he was to retrieving Tsukuyomi, a turning point she thought would end her reign on his soul. On the contrary, if she even could return, she'd be waiting for her to put an end to it, once and for all.

His smile fell into a snarl as soon as she finished her last line.

“Drop her. Leave now. And never say her name again.“ Kionchi snarled as he grabbed his katana with his other hand, bending his knees and waiting to cut out Xiaobei's tongue if she had the gall open that mouth of hers again. “I'm going to keep them both and show no mercy to anyone who gets in my way.”

Both spirits' eyes opened wide, shocked not only by the declaration, but by the sudden open display of his anger. His energy was boiling beneath the surface, ready to break open that calm aura he managed to keep even when in the heat of battle. He'd spent his whole life running, and he'd spent the last six months paying gravely for his cowardice. But to be told such a line of bullshit when he was in the midst of making amends was more than he could handle. To be called a coward when he was on the verge of exacting revenge for her was something he refused to let go.

WC: 710; GP: 14; TGP: 63

“You... You... monster!” She trembled, her mouth working at thin air as if trying to put words to something indescribable. The epitaph shot from her lips, twisted and cruel and warped beyond all admiration. Xiaobei could think of nothing better to call this creature. This pitiful excuse for a life who couldn't see what he had lost and honestly wanted to cling to that traitorous thing inside his mind as if it was in any way equal to Tsukuyomi! For a moment she couldn't perceive such arrogance, the way that his love had tarnished and turned to rust beneath such blind headlong idiocy.

The cloth around his eyes now made her want to laugh. The idea that he had lost a sight he had apparently never even tried to use something far too ironic to her churlish heart. One would think that having suffered such an injury and finding a way to see again that Kionchi would realize what had been right before him all along. But no! No, he wanted to subject Tsukuyomi to being second place to some wispy demon he himself had allowed to form! What wretched and unforgivable egotism! He wanted both!

“Give her back? Give her back? You think Xiaobei will ever even let you touch Tsukuyomi again? You who forsake her very nature by clinging to that thing inside your head? How can you stand there and say that? How can you live with yourself? How can your heart still beat, knowing that each time you speak you are forswearing that love you claim to hold so dear?” She couldn't stop, the words an onslaught of incredulity tinged with star bursts of anger.

He swung the sword, pointing the tip right at her heart, and her entire world exploded as Xiaobei's sight narrowed to one thing and one thing only. The pulse of his heart. The thrum of his blood. She would destroy him. Eviscerate him. She would bathe in his duplicitous blood and rip out whatever remained of his eyes to devour them whole.

A dark snarl marred her face, anger lending red tints to her cream colored skin as all the quills on her body bristled and rose up like a living wave. In that moment, she forgot all about her Abba's injunction, lost as she was to the red tide of her bloodlust. Her claws grew jagged and silver-tipped, canines lengthening until her maw was full of serrated fangs. With a howl of utter rage, she threw herself at her opponent, ducking down low as her legs shifted into a fluid that cut her height in half before rapidly shooting back into place as she lunged for his throat.

“YOU KNOW I'M RIGHT! I CAN SEE IT!” She thundered like a true beast, the walls shaking with her conviction. Xiaobei saw no way to get the point through to him than through violence. He was such a poor fool that only pain would teach him the errors of his ways. If she and Tsukuyomi could defeat him and that interloper, it would prove the inferiority of his companion. He would have to realize she was not just fake but evil, tainted to the pits of her very soul-fragment with a horror that did not deserve to share even one breath with Tsukuyomi.

Xiaobei wouldn't fight for her own rage, but for her feelings for the bird girl she had saved so many days ago. The sword-spirit who had shown her the difference between devotion and love. The woman who yearned for reunification even as she bled tears of blood at Kionchi's traitorous claims. This was a love Xiaobei supported, and if it meant forcing this Shinigami to take it back, to feel it again, to realize what a precious gift it really was, then she would peel the flesh from his body and shove the emotion in so deep he could never remove it.

WC: 654 | GP: 13 | Total GP: 43

Golden sparks flew in every direction, plumes of fire licking his face as he watched the bestial princess writhe in the pain of his truth. How much suffering had Erasmus caused this pitiable beast for her to arrive to such conclusions? How dull had her instinct become lying snug and sheltered in the soul of her Abba? She spouted off about love and fidelity while her own father, her idol, went on despised by an entire world for his two-timing and treason. And now this thing can somehow look into her reflection in his sword and come to the conclusion that he was the monster?

“Claw out my heart and see for yourself, Princess.”

He watched her lunge like it was in slow motion, even able to take half a breath before she could get close enough to touch him. Her claws and fangs had grown easily twice their original size, but turning to cut open her shoulder with the side of his blade, he let go of his katana with one hand and reached toward Tsukuyomi with the other. But watching those golden, cat-like eyes suddenly turn to meet his hand, he instinctively let loose burst of energy beneath his feet and flew across the room.

Sliding to a halt on the other side of the hall he didn't have time to check to see if his sword connected. Rather, he was too concerned with the claw marks on his arm, blood gushing from a severed artery he could just barely patch with his Kaido. Why that thing that took Tsukuyomi's place didn't intervene like it usually did was beyond him, but this wasn't the time to rely on someone he trusted just enough to risk his life to hold onto. Heh. Maybe he was an idiot.

“See for yourself that I'll live and die and bleed to protect those who are precious to me,” Kionchi gripped his katana with his remaining arm. She wasn't as fast as him, but once she got in close she was dangerous. But how else could he hope to get Tsukuyomi back from her? What other choice did he have? And why did he hesitate to grab her when he was so close he could almost feel her warmth again...

“And if you can think of a greater expression of love than that level of devotion, princess, go ahead and show it to me.”

WC: 400; GP: 8; TGP: 71

He moved away like a leaf fluttering on the wind, her all out assault missing the target by a good foot as her claws snagged at his shoulders and her teeth gnashed at thin air. Ugly with the loss of her prey Xiaobei trained her eyes on him even as he rushed to get away from her. She could see the faint hesitation in his soul, the shiver of bone-deep understanding. His body recognized what his brain did not. That he was a liar. That he loved the wrong person, just an object of his desires, his stupid needs. And his body had reacted, when his mind was still shuddering to grasp at the reality.

“You'll live and die and bleed, huh?” She arched an eyebrow, licking the blood from her claws with dainty swirls of her pink tongue. “That's all good to say, but the issue is who you'll do that all for. If you say it's Tsukuyomi, then you are only fooling yourself, Shinigami. Because we both know that she just fills a hole in your mind. She fits into this precious relationship of yours, but you never even thought of her as Tsukuyomi. As separate. She did what you needed, and now you have that Hollow-trash to do what you need, but never do you stop to consider what she needs!”

“And I'll tell you. It isn't to be replaced by some fake Hollow. To have her spot at your side be so easily consumed by someone totally different. It's almost as if you don't care what the personality is, so long as they are of use to you. So long as they are with you. What are you compensating for, huh? What is it that you're trying to get out of this relationship? Or are you really still just crying about what you used to have?” The words were deadly calm, conversational despite the curl of her lips as she traced the fault lines in his very soul.

“Open your eyes, Kionchi. Stop lying to yourself. Tsukuyomi deserves far better. And until you recognize her for who she is, not just what she is, you'll never have a chance at stealing her from me!”

With that a hail of quills rose up all around her, strands of her long black hair growing wide and fat as they shot into the air. Like a moving wall of spears the needled strands fell upon the Shinigami. She gave no focus to the multitude of quills, putting all of her focus into just one projectile. It whizzed towards his head and swiveled with perfect accuracy, cutting alongside his temple and severing the ribbon that concealed those blind eyes from the truth.

WC: 452 | GP: 9 | Total GP: 52

Her words were far sharper than her claws, but neither would openly admit it. He'd always worn the same fox-like smirk in every duel, yet this time his scowl turned upside down for a completely different reason. He'd spent the last few days soul searching, wondering since his spirit and Beldame made their little deal what exactly it was that had impersonated Tsukuyomi. He'd settled somewhere between a figment implanted by Erasmus, or a severed shard of Tsukuyomi's repressed contempt. And while he didn't give too much credence to Xiaobei's intelligence, her instinct probably wasn't far off.

“Fake hollow, huh?”

The squeamish feeling in his gut spoke volumes. Even having his eyes opened to the truth, his body still rejected the idea of becoming one of them. More pertinently, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that the spirit inside of him was just as oblivious, and probably twice as frightened. Maybe he was more of a sadist than he let on, the entire appeal of that thing inside him merely the opportunity to always have something on hand he could torment. Or maybe he really sympathized with her, knowing she could only stand in as someone else and never stand up on her two feet the same way Kionchi had always tagged two steps behind whoever he followed that week, devoid of any legitimate identity for himself. A hollow fake.

“And you think she what? Being eaten alive by a mad man just so she could be touted around by a child like some toy?!” There was a subtle release of tension in his words, as though Xiaobei's speech had given him more answers than questions. That was until she brought up Tsukuyomi's greatest fear, and Kionchi's greatest shame.

Arashi...

Spears replaced words as the violent onslaught of knives rained down on the man suddenly drowning in his own remorse. A thin veil of golden energy reflected the spikes just enough that he was able to shunt the energy away from the deadly quills and disappear to the other side of the room. Another wave of deadly spikes met with another after-image, running again and again as he tried desperately to sort out his own thoughts.

It wasn't the words that bothered him insomuch as what they meant. The idea that Tsukuyomi had known about Arashi for over a hundred years. The idea that she kept quiet about the most grievous betrayal he'd experienced, but had dumped the whole story on some flea-bitten cat at the drop of a hat!?

Appearing behind her, his blade flashed furiously toward Xiaobei's shoulder. He didn't even bother aiming for side with the strap that held Tsukuyomi to her back; His anger and fear drove the mirrored glass katana downward with all his might as he focused all his attention on the scraggy little beast-child that had driven Tsukuyomi to betray his trust. The onslaught of quills jutting from her backside was but an afterthought, even as they tore through the same shoulder he cut through with his sword and, more pertinent to the blind shinigami, ripped open that ribbon Evelynn had given him to cover his eyes.

He disappeared once again, the red silk blindfold left behind on a bloodstained quill.

The room was dim, but still bright enough to blind him. The smell of blood was faint, but enough that he already missed his mask's lavender and mint. Both sensations subsided after just a second, but it was enough that his first sight was another barrage of quills he just barely managed to swipe away with a single swing of his katana.

Just enough to see the feral beast-child with his own eyes. Those black eyes shone with a shimmering gold iris, spinning in place like galaxies as they began to process their surroundings, one timeline at a time. A cat-like vasto lorde wearing a golden crown towered over the squat arrancar. A proud teenaged quincy covered in the blood of a hundred fallen hollow. He managed to avert his eyes before before too many dozen Xiaobei overwhelmed him completely, each and every one another potential soul had Fate given her another choice at some pivotal moment in her past. Each another distraction he didn't need, his eye carelessly listing right over to his own katana.

Th-thump

His pupils instantly dilated as he stared in shock at his own reflection. A porcelain mask had grown around his face, his eyes the same honeyed gold as Cheshire. He knew immediately it was just an illusion. Those cursed eyes of him showing him another Kionchi. And yet what haunted him most wasn't the fact there was a single hollow staring back at him. But, rather, the dozens of others behind him, every last one wearing that same bone-white mask.

"Maybe your right. Maybe I'm just not worth it."

A trickle of golden reiatsu began to pour from his skin, another chink in his armor. Another crack in his soul, peeling back in wisps of golden light.

Maybe he just wasn't worth it. Maybe he was always just another Hollow Fake.

WC: 850; GP: 17; TGP: 88

Hot blood splashed down her side, steaming as it hit the open air and dripped to the stone floor. She hissed at the pain, the mirror sword far sharper than any blade she had ever clashed with.  With a snap the flesh of her arm was sundered, a hearty roar letting the whole world know the loss as her skin wriggled and flexed. The wound was already sealing over as he spun away, Xiaobei lashing at empty air while his ribbon was cut to shreds by her spines. Beating the air with her quills, irritation building until she was fit to burst, she watched through lidded eyes as he reappeared across the room.

She was surprised that beneath the blindfold his eyes existed still, fully intact and unblemished by some previous attack. They blinked blindly for all that they looked functioning, wide chips of black that passed unseeingly over the room. He seemed to stare and twitch, his gaze caught up in a cyclone of beings that she could not perceive. Whatever it was that he had seen it shook him, enough so that some of her words finally seemed to hit home. Not enough though. Never enough.

Abba said to break him. To shatter him. And so she would.

“If you're not worth it, then just give in already, Shinigami! You want so much, you're just like a Hollow-breed! Give in to that faker in your head and you won't have to worry about Tsukuyomi or Arashi anymore. You won't have to worry about your little act, or any of this pretend crap that you lie to yourself about. As a Hollow things are simple. You eat when you are hungry and you die when someone stronger than you comes along. You wouldn't have to hide anymore. You wouldn't have to pretend you were someone great. When all you really are is a great big liar.”

She sneered once more, pushing up to her full height. Her blood had collected in a pool at her feet and she sidestepped it with neat grace. Coming in closer to her prey. “Either admit what you are and give up, or try to change yourself! If you can't do either, I might as well devour you here and now. At least then you can be of some use to the world, let alone Tsukuyomi.”

She stepped even closer, their aura's mixing as their eyes tangled like a knot. Xiaobei didn't want him to give up. She didn't want him to let go of Tsukuyomi without a fight. But if he was this hopeless, if he was this weak, then the motto of Hueco Mundo would win out. The strong survive, and the weak... the weak should just lay down and die if that's all they're going to be. Even for love he couldn't find the strength to admit his weaknesses to himself. And if he couldn't do it for love, she really didn't think anything would be strong enough to get through to him.

WC: 502 | GP: 10 | Total GP: 62

The hair stood up on the back of his neck as his eyes darted from one hollow to other. The first a howling beast, her arm still squirming on the floor as she walked toward him as though it was only a light-graze. The other that unblinking reflection, forever staring right into his eye as thought validating the young woman's words as she and a hundred others stepped aside a pool of her own blood. One of the more feral hunched over instead to lap at the pool of carmine ichor, a sight he took in for just one second longer than any of the others.

He took in another breath. They were getting shorter. The air itself tasted so humid and thick. His sword felt heavier. His wounds still haven't healed. As she spoke he watched her blood wrap around the severed limb, a tinge of jealousy in his eyes as he tried to focus enough of his energy into his arm. Her offer was enticing, whether it was Xiaobei or the beast inside tempting him, he still couldn't tell. His time spent in Las Noches were some of the happiest days he'd had in decades. And the seduction of freedom from all his worries was almost enough to overwhelm his sense of duty and obligation. For a moment, even the spirit inside him thought the push would be enough. But neither were that naive to fall for her twisted logic. Neither fool-hearty enough to join her pack so easily.

“You really do suck at this, Princess.” Kionchi's breathing began to return to normal, his wound slowly closing as his energy faded from gold back down to a clear crystal hue. “Given the circumstances I think any other Arrancar I've met could have converted me...”

His thoughts flashed to Evelynn and again to Cheshire. Neither of them seemed particularly interested in Kionchi becoming a hollow, but he was certain at least two or three of those reflections in his sword were turned by them at one point or another.

“One minute you tell me not to run away, and the next your telling me to give it all up and become someone else? Hunting and eating and challenging for dominance? It sounds so pure and simple and, dare I say, fun. But tell me, princess, if your not as fake as I am, where in your code is there room for LOVE!?”

The room began to shake as he tapped into the inner reserves of his power. Disappearing again, an after-image appeared behind her just long enough to divert her attention. Another pop of his shunpo and he appeared right in front of her, unwilling to stab her in the back again, his sword this time going straight for her gut. Impaling her he'd charge, screaming as he stared, inches away from her eyes, driving her entire body across the room and pinning her to the wall with that same cursed sword he'd grown as tired of as he had this whole damned castle.

WC: 505; GP: 10; TGP: 98

He seemed frozen, transfixed by her words, but with a deadly roar his reiatsu surged like flames trying to race into the sky and suddenly he was upon her. That gleaming blade gliding forward as it slid to a stop, sheathed in her own flesh. The force of the attack propelling the two backwards, the tip of his sword cutting stone as neatly as it had sliced her flesh. The pain was not half as poignant as Tsukuyomi stifled on her back, pressed up against a wall now marred with blood.

Xiaobei's eyes grew wide, the pupil's dilating until golden-green had obscured the entirety. She had not forseen this sort of attack, for all that Kionchi was powerful he had been weak this whole time. Too weak to face himself, far too weak to truly challenge her. And yet here he was, in her face and screaming, the sheer force of his reiatsu pushing her further into the stone. What had changed? Or had he been this strong all along, held back by his wretchedness?

She gurgled, a mouthful of blood splattering his chest as the laughter ruptured up and out. “Ha...haha...haaa, you think that you would have love as a Hollow? When you can't even appreciate it now? No way! Only a very few Hollow-breed are capable of love, and someone as weak as you would never make it to the evolutionary stage necessary for this sort of complex emotion!” She grinned, blood frothing from between her teeth as her breath came out hot and wet. He must have nicked her lungs, for she could feel the core of iron holding her upright, blocking her from breathing easily.

“The weak... The weak don't deserve love. And if you become a Hollow, that's all you'll ever be. Weak. Controlled by your emotions. Too hungry to stop yourself from devouring all of your old loved ones. That's... that's how stupid you are, Shinigami! For trusting that Hollow in your head... As if she's not just waiting... to pounce and take control the moment you slip.”

If he was this angry, something must have broken through to him. If he was this fierce, maybe he was finally seeing the truth. She laughed again, a wet giggle, “Hahhh, you look angry, Kionchi-samaaaaa~ Is it because you know I'm right?”

The blood was too thick, too hot, and she knew this wasn't a good position to be in. Abba hadn't wanted her to fight, maybe for this very reason. But fighting was the same as breathing, and Xiaobei still didn't regret it. She wasn't about to give up either. With a revolting squelch her stomach muscle's twisted and tore, organs slipping and sliding sideways as her body reformed mere inches away from the sword still impaled in the wall. With an angry hiss, the teen latched onto his shoulder with all of her teeth, legs curling up to kick for his weak underbelly. She was in too close for him to bring that great sword of his to bear, even if it wasn't stuck in stone.

This close, entwined in blood and sweat and pure rage, their eyes met fully and Xiaobei felt her vision go black. All that remained was the brilliance of Kionchi's form, his inky outline shaded in bits of red and blue where all the weaknesses of the body and mind were mapped out. She could feel the same in herself, a gushing of blood and a trickle of reishi through her mangled form. She could feel the beat of his heart, so close it was nearly her own heart, so loud it was nearly Tsukuyomi's heart. The pulse grew, filled her mind, split it wide open and spread to the world.

For a split-second the two beat in tune, her horrible rage and love twisting together to tunnel straight to Kionchi's rotten core. So wrapped around his heart was she that she could even see the corruption of his so called love. It wasn't enough, was far from fitting, and Xiaobei found herself laughing for the third time – a full bodied noise that rippled the space between them.

She watched more than felt as her stomach began to repair itself, the savaged flesh of Kionchi's shoulder smoothing out as her pitiful love for the Shinigami swelled. “Stop this foolishness! Remember her! Remember her! Not that imposter, that fake Hollow! Remember Tsukuyomi! Your true love!”

WC: 735 | GP: 15 | Total GP: 77

Howling in fury he took the brunt of her assault, her claws disemboweling his gut as her words lacerating his soul. Blood soaked them both as he pushed deeper and deeper toward her, the nightmares of his curse subsiding as he got closer and closer to those maddening eyes of gold. The bloodlust was palpable, carmine ichor spewing from between them coating every surface in the dining hall with a thin film of blood. Pulling the katana upward, an audible snap caused his spine to shake as those razor-sharp talons continued to rip into his gut. The taste of copper and bile filled his mouth, sinuses quickly overwhelmed by whatever fluid made its hasty retreat from the hollow's relentless siege on his gut. He would not back down, he would not yield, even as the shriek of cracking glass joined the popping of the pair's tendons.

He wasn't angry because she was right. Rather, he was angry because she knew. Because even if every soul he'd come across suspected it, Tsukuyomi and Kionchi had long since vowed to keep their twisted secrets to themselves. To bury them so deep that even they'd question whether or not they existed in the first place. And no matter how loudly he shouted, he could hear them both scream, their blades simultaneously cracking under the pressure of the pair's ongoing clash: One wedged in Xiaobei's gut being pulled toward her heart, the other pressed between her precious friend and the wall once white, now soaked with the precious sanguine of her two most beloved. She winced, her crying only subsiding long enough for her to cough, choking on her own haggard vocal chords.

“I know."

Two hearts beat at one, the quartet of spirits suddenly tangled and bound in a perpetual bond called Love. Kionchi hadn't rebutted a single one of Xiaobei's truths, her words cutting deep, finding no resistance in the shinigami's heart. Deep inside his inner world, his inner hollow stood stunned, her mouth agape in a silent scream as tears strewn down her cheeks. Tsukuyomi boiled over, powerless against the tide of her emotions and yet she knew not whether they were tears of anguish or joy. Even as Xiaobei continued to claw away at him, the three fragments of his soul felt as ease, even Kionchi loosening the grip on his katana as he felt the muscles and tendons of the berserk Mei princess stitching themselves around his fake hollow's blade.

“How dense do you think I am?!” He snarled as he felt that familiar warmth pass over his body, that same power he'd attributed to Evelynn he felt healing the rampaging cat's wounds. Even as more flesh was torn to pieces, blood and muscle and even skin regrew far faster than Xiaobei could tear away. Even with his kimono slipping off his shoulders, the top half of his uniform completely tattered, he continued to hold tight to his blade, unleashing long sealed truths from the bottom of his heart before the triumvirate of women desperate for him to bear open his soul.

“I knew from the day I watched her bargain with Beldame,” The words shook the entirety of Kionchi's inner world, the fake Tsukuyomi falling to her knees as she watched her plans unravel around her. “She's a monster.” As she watched everything she'd worked so hard for crumble to pieces, Tsukuyomi's spirit lingering on the other side of that expansive black sea. “A witch.” She wanted to pounce, to tear apart Tsukuyomi's shrine and try to wrestle control of Kionchi right then and there. “Who wants nothing more than to take everything I have.” But as soon as those words left his mouth she knew the attempt would rip her to pieces. “To take everything I am for herself.” She knew she had lost his heart to the real Tsukuyomi, and had lost her chance forever-

“And I don't care.”

In one instant both blades shattered. Fragments of one lodged into Las Noches, fragments of another into Xiaobei's stomach. Kionchi let loose the empty hilt, grabbing Xiaobei by her neck and slid her against the shards of Tsukuyomi embedded on the wall. Even as he did he could feel the bits of glass being pushed out of her, wounds healing faster than he could manage. A dark shade grew from the depths of his golden iris, slanted like a beast. A white porcelain like mucus began to grow from behind his ears, slowing twisting and growing around his face.

“Even if I'm reduced to a mindless beast drawn by nothing more than the scent of blood, I know I will continue to love her,” his voice grew shrill, a dark echo as though two beings were speaking at once. “I trust her to consume me, take me, and devour everything I hold dear. I trust her because she loves me, the same I love Tsukuyomi. And for all the anxiety and hesitation and even fear in our hearts, we've always known they belong to one another. That we belong...”

Together.

One hand on each shoulder. One warm like the morning sun. The other as cool as the autumn breeze. He needn't turned those cursed eyes upon them to know what he'd see. Tsukuyomi and her fake, standing side by side, one hand on each shoulder, the other on their katana. The identical spirits shot one another a look that could kill, knowing full well that as long as one stood ready, the other would have to always watch their backs. Knowing that at any moment those blades would be drawn and the two halves of Kionchi's soul would bear their fangs.

But for now, for just this minute, they could at least agree with their beloved's words. With the resolution and conviction of a man so cruelly betrayed, the knife in his back having festered for well over a century. And even if the pair refused to accept one another, they would always know love: A force powerful enough to take on even the sword of the man who controlled the entirety of the Gotei.

“I will never them bear the burden of my sins again,” He loosened his grip on her throat as his hands slowly moved toward his chest. The mask continued to grow across his face as a smile crossed his lips. He could feel Xiaobei's love for Tsukuyomi, a pure and unbridled blend of admiration and trust in the fledgling zanpakuto she'd met so many months ago. At the same time there was an anger in his heart he couldn't quell: The pain of being betrayed by his most trusted teacher still driving the two halves of his mask together. He would fight alongside his two swords, the three of them resolute in taking the Raven's head. “Be it my lies or my crimes, they are mine to bear, but not alone.”

The last bits of his kimono slipped off his arms. His reiatsu swelled deep in the pit of his stomach, his wounds healed at the hands of the other hollow. Behind him Tsukuyomi stared from over his shoulder, taking in Xiaobei one more time, her lips mouthing a simple 'thank you', before she and her doppelganger slipped into nothing.

WC: 1212; GP: 24; TGP: 122

Her body felt tight, skin constricting as a hot and heavy throbbing filled the core of her chest. Raw nerves pinched and danced, her mouth an angry snarl that continued to snap and reach for just one more piece of flesh. Mindless in her fury, in her pain, Xiaobei squirmed and drove and darted, trying to slam her way past the blade in her gut and the hands around her throat. She didn’t hear the anger of her enemy, she didn’t even hear his admissions, lost as she was to the haze of pure rage.

But she did not need to understand human speech to grasp the fundamental change. Two hearts, linked and looped into a larger whole. The very beat of her own blood and spirit pressed out through his chest, her little claws wrapped deep around his very flesh. Xiaobei was sure of nothing else but the heart, that vital organ, full of life and warm warm blood.

For a moment the clarity struck her fully and Xiaobei went limp inside her head. Outwardly she was still snarling and snapping, wild with abandon, her claws digging deep only to have each cut regenerated, but inside her mind had fallen still with a glassy sort of shock. She could feel the animal side of her brain pushing through the fog, adrenaline egging her forward despite the pain of her shredded body.

Floating in that stillness, Xiaobei looked at Kionchi with unfettered eyes. The Sight showed her his weaknesses, the lines of blue and red where body and mind formed soft points. The map of light had shifted, grown smaller, and she could see now that the points she had been hitting all along had melted into something tougher than before.

Tsukuyomi shattered in the background and Xiaobei struggled to center her mind, to regain control of her body. But the beast did not want to stop the slaughter, and she continued to savage her opponent with all her might even as her heart pressed healing onto his limbs like a poorly grafted gift. It felt as if she was watching this all from afar, the older more mature Xiaobei staring down at her child-like body coated in speckled blood and raging like nothing more than a wild cat. Those eyes were empty of all consciousness, her soul narrowed to a fine point of pure hunger.
Kionchi pulled away, the dots of his weaknesses coalescing until it all seemed to shift at once. She dropped to all fours, hissing and spitting, her quills rustling like a forest in full bloom. The beast wanted to eat, to gnash, to devour. Her heart wanted to cry, to hug her friend who had finally found her true love and won him back.

Xiaobei’s body moved, lunging across the divide for the unsuspecting man. She could feel each muscle contracting, each hair on her body angling toward her prey. The taste of his blood was all that she could think about, her jaws unhinging as she threw herself at him.

WC: 506 | GP: 10 | Total GP: 87

Her eyes were fury manifest, savagery so fierce that he struggled to even recall a moment in his life he'd come so close to a source of sure pure primal rancor. Each of her muscles tout to their limit, spines throbbing under the sheer pressure of each beat of her heart. Dropping to her talons he watched those quills dripping in blood bloom as brilliantly as the geyser of gore splattered on the wall behind her. The gruesome mural the only throne befitting the fury of the wild princess of Las Noches, those golden eyes of hers the only safe place Kionchi had to focus his cursed but restless eyes.

Those eyes. Those claws. Those talons. Those eyes. Those fangs. Those teeth. Those eyes. Those eyes.

Time seemed to move so slowly as he lost himself in that predator's gaze. He couldn't look away, his world slipping into her bloodshot gold. Silence permeated the scene, broken only by a feint laughter, its as familiar as it was paralyzing. His stomach churned, that haunting melody pulling back into the prison he'd constructed for himself in the twisting recesses of his own psyche. That same cruel laughter. Those same golden eyes.

Those same god-damned eyes.

Silence aside he could at least feel the bestial cry of her heart as Xiaobei closed the distance between the two. Her anger and hatred and sadness enough to distract him from his own demons, lost memories of Tsukuyomi and Xiaobei together for what must have felt like an eternity, torn apart by the nature of the shinigami's bond. She loved her. They loved her. And even with the charging hollow's fangs a mere two meters from his neck, he found himself completely unable to react, consumed entirely by the rancor-fueled melody of her twisted feral soul. He could see himself through her eyes: The mass of pale white tentacles had wrapped themselves almost entirely around his face, his hand raised as the color drained from the world around him. The surface of his fledgling mask had just begun to smooth itself and take shape, his consciousness so completely merged with hers that he found himself unable to even remember who he was even as she came barreling down on him ready to rip out his heart.

The only thing he could be sure of, the only thing that mattered, was love.

“Resolve, Tsukuyomi!” Even now his voice seemed a borrowed hodgepodge of the three spirits, his cat-slit eyes two shining gold coins staring resolute from behind the incomplete white mask. The fingers of his outward stretched hand were as though he were holding an invisible sword, a stray spine brushing his wrist as Xiaobei tookone final leap toward him, ready to rip open his chest and tear out his still-beating heart.

That's when the world broke.

Color was the first to go, slipping away like water in a frypan as the steady march of time finally came to a halt. For what might have felt like a second he wondered if they'd be locked like that forever, or if this was just the moment before his demise. But the feeling of dread quickly subsided, done away with by the warmth of a familiar hand reaching out and grabbing hold of his own. The world itself seemed to be straining to keep shape around them, pockets of space wringing itself out in every direction. Off in the corner of his eye he could make out the shape of one of the King's chairs, twisting and turning as it seemed unable to decide whether or not it'd been knocked over. Returning his focus back to his out-stretched hand, a bolt of static seemed to cut through the air between his fingers, a sliver of pure distortion cutting through the frozen Xiaobei's neck in the vague shape of a katana.

Watch. Learn. Understand what it means to inwield me.

His senses returned as her hands slid down his arm, up his neck and finally her warm fingers found their way to his cheek. The mask he had seen through Xiaobei's eyes no longer rest between them: Tsukuyomi's carress was entirely uninhibited by Amaterasu's tampering. His eyes darted from the softs tips of her fingers to the sharp edges of porcelain suspended mere inches between him and his feline assailant. It seemed like there was so much of it, far more than there should be. Two. Three. Five. Twelve. It seemed like every time he recognized the shape or order of one distinct chip of his mask he'd see even more exactly like it, as if they somehow took offense at Kionchi's subconscious challenge to count how many of the same there could be. And that's when he finally realized it.

Tsukuyomi, you-

About damned time, you Stupid Fox.

A smile. The warmth of her hand quickly spread across his body as doubt was overtaken by certainty. This was no near death experience. No mere manifestation of his inner world. Rather it was Tsukuyomi's power made whole, trust shared with him without reservation. An unlimited number of overlapping possibilities. An unlimited number of possibilities he'd never even been made aware of, their shared fate a silent burden she'd carried for centuries. The secret kept between them because he was too busy running from his failures. The truth she was afraid would have immediately made her just another of his failures; Something else to forget.

-I'm sorry. Her presence seemed to bleed into the rest of the room.

Don't be. The words cam out easily, as if the entire conversation had been planned out a thousand times over. I'm your zanpakto. If you'd been perfect, you wouldn't need me to help you pick out the perfect path to ta-

-Not that.

His interruption caused her to raise an eyebrow. Where was he going with this?

You aren't the only one who grew during our time spent apart. I'll admit I was afraid of you sometimes, but I don't regret what we had for a second.

Then why apologize?

Because all these years you've been afraid that if given the choice of what path to follow we'd end up taking different routes. His attention focused back on Xiaobei, his golden eyes staring smack-dab into hers as he tightened his grip on that non-existent sword of his. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to take them all.

His smile widened as a ghostly copy of Xiaobei appear next to the fist. In less than an instant there were three more. then five. Eight. Thirteen. The copies multiplied exponentially, each new copy just slightly different than the first. The further they got the first, the more and more they diverged, an almost conical mesh of quasi-real Xiaobei reaching out further and further from where he stood until finally it consumed the entire room in an avalanche of hollow. Each coupled with just as many of those blade-shaped distortions, ready to swipe at each of the Xiaobei in every known direction.

“Bankai.”

Reality snapped back into focus all at once. The entire tower shook as the room filled with debris. Every surface erupted into cuts and scratches as the blood-stained wall once towering before him was instantly blended into fine particles of sand. The table reduced to pulp, the chairs ground to dust. The only surface left untouched his own body: The razor sharp mirrored sword of Amaterasu in one hand, the familiar heft of the obsidian blade of Tsukuyomi in the other. The top half of his uniform had gone the way of his pulverized mask, his exposed golden eyes darting from one side of the room the other. The air too thick with his own power to register whether or not she was still in one-piece. The only sign of her a single scratch on his chest. The wound slowly closed as he took a step forward, the ground directly under his feet the only surface of the floor safe from his attack.

WC: 1337; GP: 26; TGP: 148