The First Mission [Team Retrieval]

The timing was too perfect to be coincidental. Why had he felt the need to open his mouth about that delayed Las Noches reconnaissance team? Sure, he had no reason to expect the kid would have acted on it and, for all Murat knew, it could have been someone else who made the trip, but things rarely turn out the way you want them to. It only took a quick swing by Fifth after Walkren told Murat of the recovery team in order to verify that the youngster hadn't reported in.

He could hardly volunteer himself fast enough. Walkren's participation was easy to wave away. He was a skilled Lieutenant, one of the best Kido practitioners in all of the Seireitei, and had the softest beard Murat had had the privilege to run his fingers through in years. It was because of that beard that Murat had his in. They hadn't exactly been secretive about their escapades and, as a result, the Second Division clerk handling the assignment had little more than a knowing smirk when Murat begged to be allowed to go on the mission.

It hadn't been until after he had walked out that Murat realized just what he had signed up for. Sure, Walkren was fun and Murat cared for him in his own way, but he was in no conceivable chance about to lay his life down for the man. As the sudden reality of his impending journey sunk in, so too did the incredible accompanying fear.

Rounding up several flasks, and downing a few stiff drinks himself, Murat made it to the rendezvous point only mildly inebriated. Passing a flask to Walkren covertly, Murat shrugged and looked around. For a group thrown together so hastily, they looked fairly well equipped. He, certainly, would be the odd man out. Thankfully, his blood alcohol levels were at a point where he didn't particularly care about that.

Crossing over into the realm of the Hollows was disorienting, but the alcohol combined with Murat's frequent trips to Earth's deserts balanced it out somewhat. Looking around, he couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he saw their brave leader gagging.

This isn't so bad, actually. At least it's not as hot as the Arabian Desert.

It was clearly Moriya's first command. Murat could almost smell the nerves spilling off of the man, and that was not good. Still, he seemed capable of doing things by the book, at least for now. Murat felt himself edging closer to Walkren as their team lead struggled.

"Yeah, stay near your butt buddy in case you need to run. Heaven forbid you actually act like a warrior for once."

Shrugging off his Zanpakuto spirit's remark, Murat hung by the blond Shinigami as orders continued to be passed out. Covert was good. The lesser the chance of them needing to fight, the more likely they'd actually pull this off. Murat grinned at the paper as Moriya handed it to him. A common-sense tactic, but one that they should have probably done before getting here.

Not wanting to disappoint their commander, Murat pulled a cigar from its case in one of the pockets on the inside of his uniform. Lighting it and then using the remaining flame from the match to ignite the paper, Murat took a series of deep relaxing puffs to help with his own nerves. It worked, at least until their leader made a point of saying their journey here wasn't supposed to be a round trip. Nearly spitting the cigar into the sand with a cough, Murat couldn't hold himself back any further, passing a worried look at Walkren first before squaring his eye on the mission lead.

"No offense intended, sir, but I was under the impression we wanted to make this a round trip. I don't exactly plan on setting up shop here long term."

WC: 645

There was little enough that concerned Kuroda when he was on a mission like this. It was just another retrieval, simple and quick. Sure, it was in adverse territory, and they were a small squad, and they had no idea who they were after, but still, it was just retrieval. Whether it be rescue or arrest was yet to be seen, but in case of the latter, it was easy to see why he had been assigned this mission. The dark sky of Hueco Mundo loomed above, a pale moon lighting their way through the white sand of the desert before them. The sand filled the gaps between his toes and seeped through his waraji with ease, but it was a welcome feeling of soft coolness among the heat of the desert. Taller than his companions, he took his time to look at each over the heads of the others, pausing only when their "leader" broke the silence.

Honestly this man didn't seem well fit to lead the expedition, he was jittery, and the gagging was easy to make out against the quiet. So just why did the Lieutenant let him lead? Then there was the fact that he had never seen this man in battle, or even in a stealth mission, both of which Kuroda had taken on himself. He was called in to lend his experience in retrieval, so why wasn't he leading? The thought soon passed however, replaced by criticism of the plan he proposed. He had his own ideas as to how they should approach, and while they certainly needed to locate their target, they didn't need to spread out as their leader suggested.

His gaze falling to the man, who was apparently called "Moriya", the expression on his face turned to one of thought with a shadow of consideration in his eyes. His Zanpakuto wanted him to think things through more, perhaps this was one of those situations. Really, if they were looking to be covert, splitting up was the last thing they wanted. The optimal order would be to walk single file, with himself in front to hide the others from sight. The Lieutenant could be in the middle and be sensing for their target. Frowning, he moved through the group, paying little mind to those he was pushing aside and taking up pace near the leader. "Yanno, it's not that that's a bad idea, however, spreading out our group when we can see for miles out wouldn't accomplish anything. If anything it would just make us an easier target. I'd suggest that we travel in a line, with me in front," he motioned to each member in turn, just as his other squad 2 members were starting to spread out and take up a perimeter, "Those three at the back, and you, the Lieutenant, and him," he pointed to Murat, "In the middle." Looking back to the other Second Division members, he waved to them to come back, despite the fact that he wasn't assigned to lead the expedition. 

"You really should just let him try and lead yanno." A young female voice sounded in his ear, the sensation of a hand holding his shoulder accompanying it.

"His plan will just get us spotted. We don't need to spread out when we see for miles around." His reply was slightly irritated, after all, that particular spirit of his was far more laid back than he, and it resulted more often than not, in him being distracted. Right now however, he couldn't afford that. He fixed his gaze upon the leader once more, frowning at the paper he held out. Code? Was he so paranoid that he was resorting to something so...disused? A single read through was enough for him to remember the phrase, a following flare of his spiritual energy shredding the paper in his hand. 

"Don't you agree Lieutenant?" He turned to face the member of the Third, keeping stride with the group at large.

[664 words]

An endless sea stretched out before them, rock and rubble rank with the same dank decrepit decay that stank from every pore of Hollow-kind. The sickly sweet smell of death flourished in the wasteland of sand, filling Walkren’s nostrils. He took it in with one long breath, closing his eyes and letting nostalgia and nausea fill his lungs. It had been almost a different life since he wandered the wastes of Hueco Mundo and the halls of Las Noches, searching for purpose. Before Moriya even asked him, his senses filled with the ambient spiritual echoes that were drifting aimlessly across the wasteland.

With his intake of breathe, information flooded in like a stream of ones and zeros cascading down a flickering computer screen. Dozens, hundreds, even thousands of spiritual beasts roamed the wastes fighting to survive. Each one had a spiritual signature that resonated back to Walkren as he scanned the vast emptiness of Hueco Mundo for their lost little black sheep. Sifting through the useless static of spiritual energy wasn’t much of a chore, especially when Walkren knew what kind of smell he was looking for and where it probably was going to be.

It only took a few moments, even before Murat and one of the Second Division members, Kuroda Momiji, finished voicing their concerns for Moriya’s leadership, Walkren had found Kirito. He was off near the entrance of the gargantuan Las Noches, clashing with some Hollow. Their reiatsu spiked like wildfire and played into the sky like a beacon for any and all to see. Murat had been right, then: The boy had taken the bait. An idle offhand comment by the First Division records officer had sparked an idea. Apparently, the boy was more concerned with enacting revenge than the threat of being court martialed.

At least Walkren would be able to spin this to his advantage. A little solo detour would net him a large profit from this venture of theirs. Murat had yet to question why the Third’s lieutenant had jumped at the opportunity to save the boy, but Walkren suspected the question would come. He hadn’t decided yet what he would tell him. Instead Walkren was trying to figure out the last piece of the puzzle; how he was going to slip off without the rest of his squad questioning him too much. Hueco Mundo was a suspicious place, after all.

Before Walkren was able to respond, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. A wisp of reiatsu curled up out of the sand racing towards the band of Shinigami: Arrancar. His own reiatsu was coiled tight inside his chest, effectively making him seem just like the other misfits that made up their little squad. The group was a ripe prize for any ambitious Arrancar. With a Shinigami already rampaging around Las Noches, this group could be the backup. Glory dangled for the taking for any who was bold enough to stop them. A smile cut across his face and his eyes opened to the rest of the Shinigami looking on him expectantly. He raised an eyebrow and said, a hint of command in his voice, “Moriya’s in charge. I won’t be stepping in unless absolutely necessary.”

“Besides,” he continued, his tone turning playful. “I don’t think our guest cares about marching orders.”

[552] [552]

Tauro had been spending his time as he often did. The Arrancar walked down the streets of Las Noches, observing the reconstruction of his home and assisting in small ways if he could. Largely he spent his time moving amongst his brethren sharing a word here and there. The one thing Hollow respected most was strength but that didn't mean that speaking to them, sharing their burdens and even employing a degree of empathy wasn't helpful from time to time. It was true that he wasn't an Espada anymore, no longer the Séptima and had not been for some time. Now he was Privaron Espada #107. The position still that him stand above the army of Numeros that served the throne even if it didn't grant him any special authority, it was a position that Tauro was set on using to his full advantage and for the good of his people.

However even one who cared as much for all Hollow-Breeds and who worried about the rebuilding of their society as Tauro got tired of the confines of those walls, the limits placed upon them by the constantly watchful eyes of their peers. Besides so much untapped potential lay out in the deserts and Tauro often felt it necessary to go out seeking for those who could serve their people but had yet to be drawn to Las Noches by their own nature. Sometimes these meetings were successful and his brethren would simply follow him back to the fortress and capital to make their oaths of loyalty. Other times the Hollow her met would decline and they would part peacefully. Most frequently he was met with hostility and forced to fight or slay his own people. Then there were those exquisite occasions were he simply had to demonstrate the power of Las Noches to those who underestimated or even sneered at it's strength.

Always the only threat in these deserts came from others of his, usually those who had yet to break their masks and be granted the logic that came with that. Even then the word 'threat' rarely applied as much of the desert lacked the power to harm even him. Yes the only beings that he had ever sensed roam the desert were other Hollow.

Until now.

At first it was like an unpleasant itch. He began in the back of his mind, barely beyond his notice, before swiftly growing in intensity until he couldn't stand it any longer. Reaching out with his mind Tauro sensed multiple dots of power in the distance, burning his senses, who's Reiatsu registered after a few short moments of analysis. This was followed by an immediate feeling of rage.

'Shinigami'  The word tore through his mind in a fury. That the hateful Soul Reapers dared to invade his realm, his home, lit his soul on fire. Invaders. Murderers. The tyrants of the Soul Society thought they could come and slay them in their own home?

His hands shook, the empty one clenched into a fist while the other which held his sheathed Zanpakutō at his side gripped the weapon until his knuckles turned white.

Calm. He just had to reign his fury in. Eyes clenched tight and a shuddering breath when suddenly his violent temper melted away to be replaced by a sudden thrill. Excitement. A promise of pleasure. No this wasn't an invasion, this was an opportunity. A gift from fate. A chance to slay those whom he despised. Suddenly both thrilled and eager for the bloodletting to begin the Arrancar shot off towards the location of the Soul Reaper Spiritual Power.

His Sonído allowed him to tear across the desert of Hueco Mundo without pause until he reached the small group. Too small in number to truly devastate Las Noches but large enough to cause trouble. The Arrancar disguised his approach as he masked his Reiatsu to the best of his ability, his senses indicted that none of this group were much stronger than Tauro himself. If he had been less eager perhaps he'd have considered the possibility that his senses were being deceived just as he was attempting to deceive the Soul Reapers. Perhaps he would have fallen back to call for support. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps but no. His blood was up and he would slay the interlopers, he would take great enjoyment in doing so.

They Shinigami were spread out and so Tauro, logically, went for the weakest one first. His Sonído carried him within striking range and as the startled Soul Reaper turned to try and defend himself, too slowly, the Arrancar attacked. Performing a draw cut, the tip of the Hollow's blade tore across the Shinigami's eyes causing the man to stumble back in pain. As the Soul Reaper opened his mouth to scream, or perhaps shout a warning, the Arrancar's blade thrust into the man's open mouth shattering teeth and ripping up and out the back of his throat. The Shinigami did not die easily but he did so quietly, his gurgling almost impossible to make out against the hissing wind of Hueco Mundo's desert.

The Arrancar swept his gaze across the area before focusing on the next closest Shinigami he darted towards that location. Within moment's he had the man within his sights, a short long haired Soul Reaper was his next target. With another Sonído Tauro accelerated towards his prey. He pulled the sheath back with his left hand as he drew the weapon with his right. The crimson blade slashed out in a horizontal cut aimed for the back of the Shinigami's neck.


----------------------------------------
WC: 935
Total WC: 935

The trick to getting used to foul air was to find something that familiarise it. For Moriya, it was the mix of burning trees and rotten flesh that he stumbled upon during his younger years. To try to find the familiarity of the world was scarcely difficult to determine, perhaps that what scary for Moriya. The uncertainty that looms ahead of him, no matter how hard he would try to predict, the future will swing a sucker punch.


Exhale.


The gush of expired air billowed out from his loosely sealed lips and away does pessimism that grips weakly like oozing caustic gel. It burns, and many more slithering towards to corrode the weakly veiled armour that protects the only thing that stops him from breaking down. He softly lamented once again, why me? What strings of events led to Kahōmono Moriya being tossed into the deep end without the water buoyancy to support him. He can’t swim. He wanted to splash out, clutching for a moment respite. It never ends, and it is frightening.


Inhale.


The disgusting air fills the lungs; he began to wonder why he’s still breathing? Why do spirits still have the option to breathe, can they be drowned? Needless thought flashing through faster than a busy Nico-nico stream. Words uttered from the young, a second squad unseated immediately undermines his ability to lead. This is wrong; we should be moving in a straight line, we should be close together.


What if he’s right? The light chink of the armour followed by a branching out crack, travelling at a speed of thunder flashes, but the armour of confidence is not compromised…yet. What if he’s wrong? His mind is falling into the pitfall that he himself warned about. Trying to figure out what if and predict every possible actions and events unfolding in his very mind. He was about to snap, barking into the unseated. He wanted to see him fall; he wanted to make a snide remark about his short comings. He wanted to ruin him. No one should question his ability except him! The mouth was open, arched lips into shape to unveil the scathing words until another cut the air, the thunder shaped crack began to retract, blanketed with assurance…


He looks over to the confident tone and it was the Third Lieutenant, Walkren Dekharr, the most powerful Shinigami in the squad and he believed in him. He began to wonder if Walkren saw something in him or thought little of the people here. His mind never wandered off into careless speculation, just the then and now. He exhaled once more.


“You know we’re in uncharted waters. The only thing we can go by is the spiritual pressure of the Shinigami,” he assured the unseated second squad, Kuroda, with renewed strength in his voice, “Lieutenant, have you sensed his presence?”


He had noticed something off, something familiar, but alien in this habitat. Like a constant ebbing surge of shock tapping the side of his face, so weak that it felt like it was tapping against it, like raindrops. That display of power was from one direction but far and little training had failed to pinpoint the target.


“No offense intended, sir,” another voice pipped up, the way he worded it send shivers to his spine. He’s going to say something bad. It was that first squad guy, is he going to wonder why Moriya hasn’t acknowledged him in name to name basis? He delivered the rest of the response normally, but it was enough to send Moriya into silence, “but I was under the impression we wanted to make this a round trip. I don't exactly plan on setting up shop here long term."


The group suddenly went silent, so much that the only thing that’s making noise was the thinly veiled armour cracking all over his body before shattering into million little pieces. Did he really just tell them all that this is a suicide mission? He spluttered, gasping. Even shook his head frantically as it would try and answer his horrible blunder.


“I didn’t mean this is going to be a suicide mission!” The flash of amber eyes looked at the group as he so desperately tried to assure them that everyone is going to come out of this alive. With a splutter and a gasp, he blurted, “We’re all going to go back to Seireitei alive, and with the lost Shinigami!” The self confidence is at an all-time low, and the ooze of pessimism feasts onto his very being.


‘Defend yourself from attack from behind.’ a memory suddenly snaps into mind, cutting all and everything that threatens the young, inexperienced Shinigami from swallowing him whole. Someone was coming at a speed, with blade drawn – no, no blade has drawn yet.


‘Begin!’


No. He was preparing to draw. The speed of the assailant was so swift, that Moriya was resorted to do only one thing: Evade. His legs bent and shifted his weight forward to dedicate himself into a break roll; the weight of his body was good enough to tilt his body around to face his assailant and his opponent. He draws his sword, swiftly using his right hand to retreat the saya further back into his sash and with it, the blade pointing upwards to the sky with the tip aiming at his newly found rival’s Torso. On his knees, ready to spring onto his feet, he delivered the order with freshly composed demeanour.


“Stick together and go after our target. Do not stop for anything and keep up with the Lieutenant’s pace. If you get lost, I’ll find you and get you out of here.”


He doesn’t know what came over him, he felt his body move at his own accord, all the bickering and the worrisome thought cut and muted from his mind. He felt like he being casted aside and let someone experienced do it yet, he’s doing all this in his own whim. Was this training that took over? He felt someone else was watching over him from afar, observing his movement and nodding as if he was taking mental notes.


‘You have rust in your muscles; your sword should be straight, like a trunk of a tree, but acceptable, remember. Always smile!’


The voices of an elderly man linger in his mind as he stood onto his feet with the sword drawn for a little longer. With a flick of the wrist he retreats his blade back in his sheath with a soft, warming smile.


“Kahōmono Moriya, Unseated of fourth squad,” He extended his respect for his opponent, even if he attack in an underhanded manner and especially when he had killed one of his comrade with a short bow. “Pleased to meet you, I am your opponent.” He became cool, cooler than he could possibly be. He was confident with his swordsmanship and his own comrades that he will succeed in this mission.


He watches his comrades’ dashes off into the distance; he made a mental, remark in a soft doting manner, almost in a melancholic whisper…


“Thanks old man.

The rush of air and the tearing of the Sonido across the pale, sunless sands were drowned out by the gurgled screams of the Second Division member who was unfortunate enough to get in the Arrancar’s way. The thrill of battle created ripples that shifted the coarse sand around the other combatants. As the Arrancar dashed forward, Moriya engaged him, Walkren feeling their spiritual power melding in the heat of the moment. His heart raced from the explosion of power, even if it was slight.

That lust for conflict pumped through him, and, for a brief moment, he was tempted to stay and fight. Moriya’s orders rang in his mind and kicked the senses back into him. He glanced towards the man and gave him a firm nod before trailing his eyes across the remaining members of their shambled party. When he spoke, only the Shinigami heard, Bakudo binding his words and concealing it from the brazen Arrancar, “Stick close. Don’t forget you have an escape with the scrolls I provided. Let’s get in and get out.”

He turned and dashed off into the sands, the gargantuan shadow of Las Noches framing the horizon and their way towards the lost lamb. The tug of the boy’s reiatsu pulled him closer to the ancient monument to chaos, but he had other matters to attend to first. It would be easy to shake the rest of the squad once they were far enough away from Moriya and his combatant. A simple excuse of scouting ahead or blocking the way for any curious Hollow would suffice.

Not to mention each member of the squad had three tightly rolled scrolls of specially crafted paper. On each of them was a different etching of Kido runes that all held different purposes. One was a simple Bakudo that would tug at their sister scrolls in his own space. A warning or locator, in case they got separated or any of the Shinigami needed help. Then he gave them a powerful barrier. One that sealed them inside an encasing of Bakudo. That would allow them to use the final one: A scroll of Keikaigi. Their escape if something was to happen to Walkren.

All of it was just a compound of excuses that Walkren could use to get away from them all. He hoped he wouldn’t have to drop in and save anyone. If he was lucky, he would get in and get out with his prizes and the erratic Kirito.

First thing was first:

Getting to Robert’s old tower.

-thread exit-

[423] [975]

That fateful night in Odessa flashed before his mind's eye as the Arrancar shot to their mission leader, causing Murat to mentally relive his encounter with Octavia. It had been his first real run-in with one of their number. She had seemed dangerous, impressive, and yet strangely intriguing. This one left no such impression. He seemed little more composed than the innumerable feral monsters that called this realm home.

It was no problem, then, that their commanding officer gave the order to advance without him, especially given Walkren's rallying orders. Taking off after the Lieutenant, Murat spared a glance back at Moriya. He had only truly met the man a short while ago, and his initial impressions had been anything but confidence-inspiring. He had waited until they had already begun the mission to discuss codes and evidently lacked any leadership skills beyond the most basic. Still, it would be unfortunate if he fell. Their group was small and the last thing they needed to do was get whittled down.

No sooner had he considered this than a dull pain shot through his left foot, his momentum continuing forward and causing the Ottoman Shinigami to crash lightly into a dune with a loud grunt, smacking into the sand and sending a small could flying. Picking himself up and fishing his still-lit cigar from the ground, Murat turned around to see what he had tripped over.

His heart sank as he realized exactly what it was. One of their number had already fallen and, from the looks of it, had been taken completely by surprise. Rushing to the body as Walkren continued to put space between himself and the fighting, Murat sighed as he saw the man's slashed eyes, the damage reminiscent of his own decades-old ocular injury, "At least you didn't have to suffer with it for long."

Wasting little time, the Records Officer rifled through the man's limited personal possessions, quickly locating the scroll Walkren had provided as well as his Zanpakutō, a standard-issue katana in a deep red sheath. Standing over the fallen Shinigami, Murat grimaced as he drew his hand level with the body. He hadn't been able to find Moriya's code or any other information on the body, but that didn't mean a resourceful Arrancar wouldn't be able to find something.

A heat surged down his arm, tingling the skin as his will became manifest and multiple small fires began igniting on the fallen Shinigami's clothing, hair, and exposed flesh. The work was quick and sloppy, but Murat was fairly sure their foes would have a hard time discerning anything from the body soon enough. Turning his back quickly to the man and reaching out to sense Walkren's position, Murat finally located that oh-so-familiar signature and flash stepped off to catch up.

This was all going wrong, so wrong. Mere minutes into the mission and they were already down one Shinigami, with their commanding officer split off. At this rate, how long would it be before Murat joined them? He didn't belong here. Walkren could handle himself, but could he keep Murat safe from the hordes of this strange land? What he needed was some sort of leverage.

Cazador. Unbidden, the idea jumped to the Shinigami's mind, causing him to stop dead in his tracks momentarily. He had said that he was the ruler of this desert. For the creature's numerous faults, he had shown himself to be smarter than Murat had expected. Could he be brought to see reason and help them get Kirito out of here? It was a long shot, but what shot would he have if things kept going this way?

As Murat considered the possibility, Nesim's voice shot into his mind, "You're going to try to reason with that thing? After what he did to your people?!"

"Maybe. I'd kill him myself if we didn't need the help," Murat thought back to his spirit with a bite to his thoughts, "I might do it anyway. Still, that's only if things keep falling apart." Rushing back off toward Walkren and reflecting on his previous showdowns with Cazador in Dubai and during the Invasion, Murat felt a strange sensation in the back of his mind. Was it sadness? Regret? He had done everything to the best of his ability, arguably exceeding his actual capabilities in both of their confrontations. Yes, there had been casualties, but there were always casualties in these sorts of situations. Still, the emotions running through his head just felt somehow off, like they were beginning to swell into something. Thankfully, the sight of Walkren and some of the other Shinigami in their group on the horizon knocked that growing feeling back to the recesses of his mind. There wasn't a need to worry, not with his man around to keep him safe. There was still hope for this to turn out alright.

-=|THREAD EXIT|=-

WC: 812/1457
TGP: 29

Letting out a huff of irritation at their situation, Kuroda glowered away from the rest of the squad, starting to go off to his position that their 'Leader' had designated him to be in. While his other squad members went out to form points behind and to the sides of the group, he took the lead, pulling his Tanto out and holding it firmly in his grip, eyes peeled for anyone that might be coming in. Of course the Lieutenant was going to let their 'Leader' make the mistake of splitting the group, it was a learning experience apparently. But, if things went their way, then nothing bad would come of it. Half-lidded, his blue eyes pierced the contrast of the pale sand and black sky of Hueco Mundo, if their target showed up on the Lieutenant's senses, but wasn't in sight, then there was a distinct possibility that he had gone below ground, or worse, to the palace of Los Noches. Either one was bad for the mission, primarily because of the time it would take to find him, and thus the time they would spend in enemy territory, but secondarily, because that would mean they would need to go there as well.

"Oh! But Los Noches would be filled with Hollows! And Hollows mean fighting! And fighting means making the world stronger by getting rid of the weaklings!"

Of course that was what his Zanpakuto was focused on, or at least one of his Zanpakuto. The Tanto rattled slightly in his hand, the spirit inhabiting it excited about the prospect of bloodshed. She was a snake, that one, both literally and figuratively. At first impression, Kuroda had thought of her as a kind, compassionate, if not a little simple, girl with the lower half of a snake. However, spending time with her had proven just what her real attitude was like. She was bubbly, that much was true, but for all that bubbliness, she enjoyed slaughtering the weak even more. For a moment Kuroda looked down at the blade, frowning as the group continued to move.

"You don't always need to be so aggressive. We don't need to kill everything in our path, just keep your mou-" His reprimanding was cut off by the last part of the Lieutenant's reply to his voiced opinion, "What company Lieu-?" 

The attack was fast, the motion out of the corner of his eye drew him to the assailant. First, a fountain of blood back and to the left of him, the first shinigami falling to the ground with a slash across his face and a stab through his mouth. It was in the space of a single heartbeat that the next member fell, and the attacker, who Kuroda now could see as he had appeared behind the 'Leader'. Before he could call out or move to defend the ground, the clash of blades filled the air. Good, the first attack hadn't killed him. That was enough for Kuroda to believe that there was a chance here.

"Alright! Fight time!" 

"Akahebi! Not now!"

"They were weak, yanno, we've seen them around, they weren't that good."

"Just be quiet, we're not fighting here, we have a mission."

He looked from the 'Leader', to the Lieutenant, to the remaining member of their group, then out across the sand. Right, the mission, they had to keep going. "Right, take care of yourself." A shunpo took him across the desert, away from the fight. Find their target. Group back up. Get home. He had been to Hueco Mundo but once before, for his initiation into the Second Division. He knew what kinds of things he could face here, and that he wanted to complete the mission as soon as possible. 

"Focus now, Kuroda." A strained, female voice penetrated his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. His other spirit, Usuitenhana, had broken her silence and taken notice. Now was not the time to worry, now was the time to act.

-Thread Exit-

[664/1328]

TGP: 26

Surprise flickered through Tauro's mind as the Shinigami dodged his surprise attack with a swift reaction that spoke volumes of his opponent's skill. As the man rolled out of the way of the attack and re-positioned himself into a kneeling position with his weapon drawn in preparation to defend himself from subsequent attacks.

'Fascinating...he uses the same fighting style as myself.' the Arrancar noted with interest despite his displeasure of the Soul Reaper having survived his attack.

The seemingly calm Soul Reaper give out instructions with the composure of a talented military officer and moments later Tauro sensed the other Shinigami Spiritual Powers flickering out of range of his passive Pesquisa. A good turn of fortune really considering his current opponent's skill level would indicate that Tauro had underestimated the intruders. Especially considering he had mentioned a Lieutenant, if Tauro was correct that was the Soul Society's equivalent of a Fraccion and no doubt the Soul Reaper's had gotten more powerful over the years just as the Hollow had.

'Once I deal with this Soul Reaper I will deal with the others by organising a hunt party back at the Capital.'  he told himself before shifting his attention back to more immediate concerns.

Tauro's usual annoyed frown reasserted itself on his face as it matched the Shinigami's smile. He felt a wave of confusion as the Soul Reaper introduced himself but instead of arguing he simply resheathed his Zanpakuto into the saya he held in his other hand.

'If the Soul Reaper wants to exchange pleasantries well..." he thought to himself and despite his rage and hatred for the tyrannical slaves of the Seiretei he kept his exterior cold containing those emotions under lock and key.

"Rufino Tauro, Privaron Espada #107." he replied with a slight bow of his head "I wish I could say the pleasure was mutual but I'm afraid we don't take well to uninvited guests in our kingdom. Such hospitality can hardly be welcomed with open arms, can it?"

Tauro's fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword but he didn't redraw it instead staring coldly at Moriya. "I wonder how many of my people will suffer death because of the Soul Society interfering with our home again."

The last few words caused his icy tones to shake with obvious anger. Again and again the Gotei proved their tyranny by interfering in the home of the Hollow-Breeds. The Seiretei's first invasion of his home. Then the hateful despot Shinigami King Sōgetsu Voltaire had ruined the kingdom with his rule after forcing his way onto the throne. The rest Tauro had learnt after his return, another invasion of Las Noches by the Soul Society's Captain Commander of the day who decimated the Espada who tried to stop them. Then they had occupied the home of the Hollow. Constantly the black garbed murderers harmed his people for simply being what nature had made them.

The former Espada kept his eyes locked on the Soul Reaper waiting for him to make the first move.

---------------------------------

WC: 507
Total WC: 1142

He ordered and his comrades fled. Good, less of them knowing, the better. He had been conscious about using his swordplay in front of everyone. He’s sure that the comrades would feel the same. The putrid air becomes charged as the girly-boy stood in a standoff against an Arrancar. His first, and most certainly not the last, he mused. His beaming smile gleam with his gaze focused at Rufino Tauro, the fiery haired Arrancar. He could see the lieutenant and co dashing away like a blur from the corner of his eyes. He thought he should wish them luck, but then again. Wishing them luck would just undermine them. He has confidence in believing that they can carry out this mission, any less and it would be an insult.


Rufino Tauro, Privaron Espada #107. He had acknowledged the red head name, but the one word startled him.

Espada…


He kept his cheery demeanour, even nodding his head in conjunction to Tauro’s head dip during his introduction. But he began to wonder if he really is an Espada? It could possibly may well be was considering the numbered title. If he was Espada, then he’s a soul that demands a respect, even if he respected him already as a swordsman. As further words lingered to the pretty boy’s ears, he had realised that there are truth in his words. Shinigami are going to die, hollows are going to die. The fact quakes the tip of his beaming smile, threatening to steal the smile by this stark conclusion. He can’t speak for his men; he lacked the courage to tell them to not kill any hollows, no right to challenge the core of organisation’s existence.


But what he can say: “I apologise for our intrusion, our being here is certainly never in our plans.” The pretty boy dropped the playful act – no, he dropped it long before Tauro made the first move. Life or death is the wager for this deadly game, but to Moriya, so much more is at stake. From his beautiful hair to his very soul, he laid it all on the line, but his own morals is another that’s he is so desperately clinging onto. “Rufino Tauro, I cannot speak for my men for killing your people, and I pray that they refrain themselves as such, but I promise you this:” He knew the Arrancar would scoff at this promise, discard it as another white lie that the Shingami famously deliver, “but if I have slain any of your people while I'm in Hueco Mundo, be it provoked or in self-defence…”


He pressed his hand against his chest, and gazed at the Arrancar with a glimpse of sternness, “then you can take my head.”


The scene suddenly fell silent, only a whisper in the wind was audible and Moriya lowered his hand swiftly but it weren’t for long. As his beaming smile rises ever so stronger, like a radiant star without clouds hogging the skyline, his posture become more relaxed friendly even.


“That lightened the load a bit. So, You’re a Privaron Espada? Does that mean this place still have organisation?” Now it is time to extract some information.

The Shinigami's expression was infuriating. That stupid smile plastered across that moronic womanly face as the he told his lies and make his false promises.

Tauro barked a humourless laugh. "Ah I see. So you brought a number of your people to invade my home. To walk through our land. Then during all of this you won't murder any Hollow."

A sneer twisted his lips "Let us pretend you're honestly not going to murder any of my people. Let us entertain the notion that you're different from the other few thousand tyrannical killers that make up the ranks of you Reapers."

He tilted his head "Do you really believe any of those slaughterers you brought with you will adhere to those same beliefs?" he asked mockingly. "I assure you before this is all over a great many of my people will have suffered or been destroyed but I promise they will not die alone."

His left hand tightened on his saya and his thumb pushed on the sword's guard revealing a sliver of the red blade but he made no further move to attack.

"I do not lie." he simply responded to the foolish question.

He glared hatefully and had to restrain the urge to fling himself forward with his weapon seeking the neck of the hateful Shinigami in front of him but instead he held back. If this man was willing to be chatty then Tauro would let this continue a moment longer...there was something in particular he wanted to know.

"Why do you come here?" he asked simply. "Your kind would instantly murder any Hollow that entered the Soul Society so why shouldn't the reverse be true? Surely you would assume it is the same. So what drove you come here? What are you seeking?"

Tauro silently waited a response as he stared at his cheerful opponent. He must have missed something in Las Noches that would attract their attention. As far as he was aware they didn't hold any Shinigami hostage so they wouldn't be here to rescue someone. Unless...

'Maybe...wait could he be here for Eve? I know the Queen is definitely a Shinigami, an odd one, but despite her protests she's certainly was one of them. He had no doubt despite her Pure Soul comment. Could she have been a member of the Gotei, then again weren't all Shinigami? Perhaps they were seeking her out for desertion or treason...or whatever their laws would make her.'

-----------------------

WC: 413
Total WC: 1555

He figured that Rufino wouldn’t believe him. The Humourless laugh gave it away – no, him being there gave it away. He doesn’t blame him though, he heard tales of how quick the Shinigami dispatched any hollow worth of its strength within seconds of co-existing in Rukongai. Rufino must’ve thought Moriya was being an idiot; spouting promises of no Arrancars will be harmed.


Except it isn’t a promise, it is a fact.


He had no intention of sullying his hands over his comrade poor misfortune or blatant act of stupidity. He heeded to his words and boy, he must’ve had so much hatred for Shinigami – he included. The miasma of words spew out would possibly send any Shinigami into a fit of frustration and rage, hurling them towards Rufino, but he knows better – he had the time. He swayed his hip to the right, resting his right hand against the tip of his saya where the Tsuba meet. He let out a long, soft exhale. The purity of his expired air pillows out into the putrid world. Hueco Mundo is a shithole, but it is their shithole and it demands some degree of respect.


“I won’t, I told you that,” His patience isn’t nowhere being tested, in fact he enjoyed this conversation. Any conversation – hated or loved – is better than resorting to violence. “I won’t kill any of your ‘People,’ – I assume you meant Arrancar, am I correct?” Moriya was playing the fool. When you’re tossed into the world of soul reaper with little information and knowledge, he had to ditch the indoctrinated creeds that the academy tried to spoon fed him, but he rejected it, like a toddler with a sealed shut lips turning away from the spoonful of food.


“I am different. Just as I don’t assume that all Arrancars are a blood thirsty bitter person. Just from the first few actions that you hold a certain degree of honour. The fact that we are not fighting is a testament to our restraint. Although by the law of nature declares us as mortal enemies, but there’s always a time and place where we can simply converse,” Fuck the law of nature, I shoot you and your friends will shoot me, only to cycle repeats itself. Moriya knew that. He was thinks like a merchant. “I won’t harm you unless you struck me. I prefer talking to you, but if you want a fight. I’ll fight you with a bitter sigh,”


He let out a smile, when he said that he does not lie. All souls lie, even the pretty silver haired fox himself. It in our bones and our minds, it’s only the matter of when and how big degrees of a lie are, and mitigate it into your little white lie. Oops, silly me. Moriya loves white lies, the grey area between truth and false. His lips curled, refraining himself from laughing. He mustn’t be rude to the host, especially when he’s putting up an effort to converse.


“Since you asked not so nicely, I’ll tell you why,” he replied curtly, with a brief shrug. His right hand firmly on the saya, with his sash firmly gripping the body of the sword in place, he really does show little intention to fight. “A comrade of mine in all of his or her great wisdom decided to wander into Hueco Mundo. Or maybe she or he was captured and taken here or what-ever the sandy beach is called,” Las Noches. He knew what it was called, he just wanted to see if he capitalise on his ignorance. “The fact of the matter is this: One of ours is caught in a rift which we forced to play our hands. Considering the situation between us, I figured I should band up a few men to drag him or her back. It simply a quick job, you see, dangerous, but hopefully quick.”


Then finally, Moriya answered most of Rufino Tauro’s questions. As much as he was hateful as he was, he understood where the hate was coming from. However, he couldn’t care less about his hate, he just wished he know
that he’s not out to hurt anyone.


Then, he began his bluff, “Tell me, I see you have a new ruler?”

"I mean all Hollow-Kind." he answered shortly. Did this effeminate "man" think this was all some sort of game? "You say that but I wonder how many will be slaughtered by all you Shinigami this day."

He sneered "I have met different amongst your time before. Compared to them you're a copy of every other Soul Reaper." he said truthfully, if unpleasantly, as the image of the hateful Shinigami King tore into his mind. He'd hate that bastard forever, the Arrancar had no doubt. "The law of nature? No Reaper. The law of your kind declares us to be foes. Hollow must feed. It's a biological imperative. We have no choice especially before breaking the mask. A Hollow that doesn't consume loses itself in ways you can't even begin to understand. That need. That fear. Hollow do not choose to be such but once they are then they become a new individual. One that grows and changes in ways that no other race equals, transforming into new and varied shapes and forms.

Tauro held his arms out at either side, one empty and the other holding the sheathed blade, and tilted his head as for a moment all emotion drained from his face. "If I had not broken my mask would you even be giving me this opportunity? If I were another Menos would you simply slay me? I spent a long, long time fleeing from you people. I've watched friends and brothers fall beneath the blade simply for being what they are."

Everything that poured from the Arrancar's lips was the truth, or at least the truth as he understood it. Hollow were no danger to the 'balance' he'd heard Shinigami harping on about. They didn't destroy souls. They accepted them into them, made them more than they could ever be alone and if that soul was strong enough, worthy, then it could even seize control of the whole.

"There are no Shinigami held hostage in Las Noches." he replied coldly, the expression caught between anger and annoyance growing back onto his face. The man was fucking with him and the Arrancar didn't appreciate it. "So if you are not lying then one of you has entered the Capital." he continued as his tone shifted swiftly from icy to heated. "How many has he killed." he hissed, the gender of the unknown invader didn't register in his mind.

"They will not survive. None of them will." he swore. He hoped. The Arrancar prayed that the Queen, disgusting though she was, would at least care enough about her Kingdom to step in and stop them. With her power all of these murderers would be swept aside. Then there were her newly appointed Arrancar, the Gillian might be pathetic but perhaps the Primera could defend their home.

"Dangerous you call it." he barked out another laugh although this time it sounded even less than a man's sound of amusement. "Arrogant. Self-righteous. You say this invader came of their own accord, even foolishly you admit,  and yet your weight their single Soul Reaper life higher than all the lives of Las Noches that will die because you see a single moron."

When he mentioned the new ruler Tauro smiled, or at least bared his teeth. "You see that do you?" he asked mockingly. I wonder if it is so.

Tauro would then wait until Moriya began to reply however as soon as the man was done speaking the Arrancar would shake his head and glance away for just a moment before vanishing in boom as he used sonido to close the distance between them and made a draw cut aimed at the man's right arm.

-------------------

WC: 613
Total WC: 2168

He meant all hollow kind. That’s real cute considering he’s standing there looking like a man than beast. It took Moriya all of his strength to not roll his eyes in front of his ‘host’, but instead he brushed it off with a light sigh. That’s right, purge all the annoyances away. There’s no room for hindrances. After all, Rufino looks as if he’s going to draw his sword at any given moment.

He refrained from committing his hostile posture, but he inched ever so closer towards it. His off-hand wielding the Saya was a one off. Too dangerous for the silver haired swordsman to rely on a style he’s not accustomed to. So he slid it back into the white sash to his right side. However the right never parted from the sword area.

All these words, these buzz words just leak out from his opponent were nothing more than a drivel. Shinigami made the laws of nature; you don’t understand this need, fear that, and his personal favourite: Hollows loses itself in more ways than once. He wished he could eye roll, his need to do it was strong. Moriya had so many opportunities to rebut the Arrancar outspoken antics, but he chose not to comply. The saddest thing was that most would counter with further drivel.

Why not? His smile slowly waned, slowly understanding the Arrancar’s line of thoughts and what may entail at the end. The dialogue was merely a pause from combat, the loss of the unnamed second squad comrade left him with a bitter taste, but it was the first kill for Tauros' onslaught. He was a fool to think that everyone would come back alive, but would he call himself a fool for trying to rescue one of his own?

No!

This was an opportunity. He refused to believe that the skirmish is going to end in failure. He will drag this idiot back and everyone who assisted him. No more death he said, but he will not fight. He will not fall to his petty demands. All of the Arrancar’s argument would be all for naught if he bared his fangs at Moriya.

“What would my Grandfather do?” His eyes were closed when he took part in the line of thought. His inexperience began to clutch his mind, slowly dragging him into turmoil, it felt like being in vat of heavy water. To be fair, though as much he had loved his grandfather, he doesn’t know what he would do as a Shinigami.

“It not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves,” a line from his past chimed in like an ice cream truck with jingles blaring, but he couldn’t figure out who said it. Was it that old man who he travelled with? His eyes slowly open and air escapes from his lips. Just for a moment, he thought he was at home. More threats and names were hurled at him, but it was pointless. All but one thing from him can just as well flipped around and used against him.

There was no reply coming from Moriya and it was enough for Tauros. It is up to him to decide how he would approach the wall of silence. 

‘Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence,’ a quote he picked up from a book he found during his travels. He already said why he’s there and what’s he going to do, so why add anything more?

He began to wonder: was he scared? Yes, he was scared. Was he scared to fight? No, he will fight. However he felt fighting him would only play to Rufino Tauros’ words.

No words came forth and the Arrancar looked momentarily disgusted. So Moriya was the same as the rest of his tyrannical, genocidal race after all. He had simply came here for a fight, for a slaughter, to murder Hollow in the same of some fabricated cause. To trade dozens, perhaps more, lives of Hollowkind to 'rescue' a single interloper to had willing come here probably with more killing in mind.

It wasn't the murderous behaviour that angered him, that narrow-minded self-righteousness was expected from the Soul Reapers, but the pathetic lies to try and hide his nature was stomach turning. 

'It doesn't matter. He'll die for his misguided believes along with the rest of them one way or another. That fate awaited every Shinigami. Death for their duty to a corrupt system.'

So be it.

The silence stretched out between the two swordsmen as the stared at one another only the sound of the desert winds between them.

Boom.

Tauro's Sonído carried him straight at Moriya, sliding to a stop in front of him before immediately darting to the Shinigami's right with another swift Sonído. A red wreathed hand lashed out as he threw the unstable Cero at their feet causing the sand to explode around them. A smokescreen to give Tauro's surprise attack an added element of uncertainty...or at least that was usually how he would be using it. This time however it was merely a distraction and a third Sonído, lacking the usual loud sonic boom, moved him to Moryia's left...the opposite direction of the Cero's impact. Drawing his blade he stepped in closing aiming for his sword to slice the Shinigami open from his hip right up his side.

In the name of defending Las Noches, for the safety of his people, this killer had to be slain swiftly.

------------------------------------------------

WC: 301
Total WC: 2473