Death
Nnoitra's body betrayed him—hands and feet sluggish, refusing his will.
He hadn't felt this kind of weakness in years. The last time had been during one of Aizen's missions, when he'd sought out Hollows strong enough to become Espada. Alone, he had stormed into a tribe of Adjuchas, slaughtering them recklessly until his reiatsu burned out. That was when the village chief had returned. The battle had been one-sided. He thought he would die there, free at last from the despair of Hueco Mundo.
But instead, she had saved him.
"Nelliel… I told you I don't need you around me. So why do you keep following me?"
"Because you're weaker than I am."
Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck.
Every time Nnoitra remembered that answer, rage consumed him. He hated her condescending pity. He lived only to surpass her—only when he crushed her would he accept death.
Not before.
Never before.
Now, even as blood poured from his wounds, he struggled on.
Shiraishi appeared before him in a blur, unleashing three strikes in rapid succession.
The first, an upward slash, sparked harmlessly off Nnoitra's hierro.
The second, a horizontal cut, failed as well.
But the third—a vertical strike, shimmering with golden energy—sent a chill through Nnoitra's body. Even his hierro quivered before it.
Critical chance triggered. Shiraishi's reiatsu spiked, doubling from 7,550 to over 15,000 in an instant.
Desperate, Nnoitra tried to throw his head back, but the golden slash carved down his torso, from neck to hip. Blood erupted as his "unbreakable" hierro cracked and burned away.
With newfound mobility, Nnoitra leapt back, landing amid a patch of wildflowers the tornado had missed. For an instant, it looked as though the flowers themselves refused his blood—the petals remained unstained.
Shiraishi pressed the assault, thrusting at the wound with another Steel Flash.
Nnoitra caught for it with his left hand, but the blade sheared through fingers, tearing away half his palm. Shiraishi's ultimate skill granted a chance to bypass all defense—this time, hierro offered no salvation.
"AHHH!"
Pain fueled his frenzy. With one hand, Nnoitra raised Santa Teresa and swung.
For the first time, Shiraishi didn't dodge. His blade met the crescent weapon head-on.
BOOM!
Reiatsu clashed violently, shredding the hillsides. The flowers were uprooted, soil and stone ripped bare down to the roots.
Wounded and bleeding, Nnoitra faltered first. Blood gushed from his throat as he staggered back.
Shiraishi steadied his breath. His own body ached, his energy churning, but he saw it clearly—Nnoitra's reiatsu still raged, but his body could no longer keep up. His endurance was gone.
The fight was already decided.
Blood spilled down Nnoitra's chest, soaking the soil, his black hair hanging over his face. Still, he glared forward.
"Are you still alive?" Shiraishi asked.
"Idiot… how could I die… to you? How could you—with a sword like that—hurt me… me… ME!"
Nnoitra's dimming eye reignited with wild brilliance. Golden reiatsu burst from him like fire.
"How could I die like this?!" he roared.
He refused to admit it. He refused to acknowledge defeat. He had sworn to die only at Nelliel's hands, never at the blade of some nameless intruder.
"I can still fight!"
Blood spraying, he lifted his weapon with one hand and charged. His movements were sluggish, his speed less than half of before, but his killing intent was undimmed.
Shiraishi pressed his lips into a thin line. To dodge would be to mock the man's last resolve. Instead, he chose to fulfill it.
He drove his blade straight through Nnoitra's cracked chest, piercing his ruined heart.
The world went black for Nnoitra.
As he had once promised, he died standing—cut down by his enemy, body collapsing only after consciousness slipped away.
Shiraishi pulled his blade free before the blood could touch him. Nnoitra's corpse toppled with Santa Teresa still clutched in hand, falling silent in the field of ruined flowers.
For a long moment, Shiraishi stood still.
"Why…" he muttered. A strange sadness washed through him—sympathy for a Hollow. Perhaps it was the despair that had surged between their blades, lingering in his heart.
"…Tch. What am I even lamenting for?"
He slapped his face, forcing the mood away. Then he opened his system panel.
---
Hero: Shiraishi
Level: 10 (730 / 1425 EXP)
Reiatsu: 7,550
Zanpakutō — Infinite
Passive: Way of the Rurouni
[Unyielding] — Sword energy accumulates with movement. At peak strength, an enemy's strike triggers a shield that neutralizes part of the blow.
[Death's Face] — "Death is like the wind, always by your side." In desperate battle, Infinite grants a 100% critical strike chance.
Skills:
Steel Flash (Lv.3) — Slashes grant Whirlwind stacks (6s). At 2 stacks, unleashes a whirlwind that knocks enemies back.
Wind Barrier (Lv.2) — Wall of compressed air that blocks ranged attacks (4s).
Forward Slash (Lv.4) — Dash like wind; Steel Flash during dash becomes circular strike.
Wind Breath (Lv.1) — Dodge into airborne enemies, holding them aloft for +1s. Upon landing, gain full sword intent, reset Whirlwind stacks, and gain 50% chance to ignore enemy defenses for 15s.
---
"Six hundred and fifty points!" Shiraishi's eyes lit up. From 80 to 730 total—just one Espada had yielded so much.
If the eighth Espada gave this much, what would the top three be worth?
He was still imagining it when a sudden surge of reiatsu made him glance left.
"Kūkaku? Why are you here?"
Shiba Kūkaku landed in the ruined field, surveying the corpse. "This Hollow… was it Tsunayashiro Takehiko's experiment?"
"I think so. I don't know the full details," Shiraishi replied. "You can check the base yourself. Aizen probably left enough evidence to condemn Takehiko anyway."
But his mind was already elsewhere—Suì-Fēng's battered figure weighed heavier on him than Kūkaku's questions.
"I've got other things to handle. I'll leave this to you."