Chapter 3 - The Prowess of the 4th Espada

Kiptcha froze. Her form that she had just been running through vanished. She never repeated forms, so it didn’t matter. She found what had been placed in front of her now was certainly impossible. She couldn’t do such a thing, could she?

Grimmjow watched with horror as Kiptcha stopped and returned to a readying stance. Then she looked directly at him, as if she were beconing him to come closer. He accepted, not really knowing what was going to happen. He landed softly in front of her, and he winced mentally at the sight of the bandage having been removed from her wound. It looked sickly and painful.

Do you know how the attacks went for my first form?” Kiptcha asked softly. She was in her outfit again, and she had zipped up the collar. She had the same amount of emotion as a statue or a tree, at this point.

He nodded, and he drew his zampaku-to in preparation. He watched as she sliced her hand on her own sword, coating the katana with her blood. It glistened, and it dripped slowly. She let thee layer thicken, before nodding to Grimmjow to start.

Her first form had been at high speed, but with simple moves. As he attacked, she twirled and danced even faster. He could feel the droplets of blood hit him, and he realized that it was marking where she would have cut him. Her moves were swift, and almost too fast for Grimmjow to watch, but he followed through with his part of the form.

It came suddenly, a cut that appeared out of nowhere on his arm then. Kiptcha landed a few feet away and she looked at him. Her hand was bleeding freely after the many times she had renewed the coating of blood. Grimmjow was splattered in clean, long lines all over. He looked at Kiptcha and the blood that marked where she could have easily killed him.

“The Fifth Form, Cortar a Cintas,” Kiptcha said slowly, relishing the new form and name.
[Cortar a Cintas: Slicing to Ribbons]



Both back in their gigais and washed, Grimmjow made a point of not talking to Kiptcha about her forms. They were all deadly, but that had been the first that could actually be used in battle. He reviewed all of them, but he came up blank.

“The First Form,” Kiptcha said behind him with coldness. “Baile Resonante.”
[Baile Resonante: Resounding Dance]
“The Second Form, La Agilidad de Aire.”
[La Agilidad de Aire: Agility of Air]
“The Third Form, La Impredictibilidad de Nubes”
[La Impredictibilidad de Nubes: Unpredictability of Clouds]
“The Forth Form, Llevar con Hojas.”
[Llevar con Hojas: Drifting with Leaves]

Grimmjow was startled and he whipped around to face her. She looked at him, the cold fire that had always burned in her eyes returned. It was how she could stand up to all of the males in the Espada. She needed no help, no sympathy. Her nerves were stronger than steel. She wouldcarry out what she was meant to do without question.

“Get some sleep,” Kiptcha commanded, and she got up from sitting on the edge of the bed. With a powerful shove, she threw Grimmjow at the bed and she turned and left.

She found Isredel in the hallway, and she stopped behind him. She didn’t want to say anything, but to just letit be silently understood, but it didn’t work that way. “How far would you follow me?”

“Not quite to the end of the world,” Isredel replied, turning.

Kiptcha nodded and she looked directly into his eyes. “How far would you go to defeat the arrancar?”

He met her gaze with ease, and being taller than her, easily imposed his pride. “I’d go to any lengths.”

“And, how much do you love Seiretei? Even after they exiled you out here?”

“I’d protect it with my life,” Isredel replied, sincerity and self-confidence putting strength behind the statement.

“‘With your life’ . . . ” Kiptcha repeated. She turned swiftly and retreated to her own apartment.



It was dark after Kiptcha shut the door, but she found her way over to her side of the bed and she sat down. With practiced slowness she brought her legs up behind her and she started to lay down. She felt a rough hand grab her arm, and she jumped, hoping she hadn’t wakened him when she cad come in. The hand pulled her back, and she landed hard, laying horizontal on the bed. Her head rested on Grimmjow’s stomach.

Embarrassment made her struggle to sit back up. Embarrassment and her own worthless pride. The hand — Grimmjow’s hand, Kiptcha realized, held her down and she looked up at the ceiling. She was tired, and the rise and fall of his chest didn’t disturb her enough to try to move again. She felt warm, and she allowed her eyes to close.

Grimmjow reached down, and he placed one hand on the side of her face that faced away from him, slowly tilting her head to look at him. Her eyes shot open, but she couldn’t resist now, since he already had done it. She looked at him with sorrow.

“I can’t carry through, Grimmjow. I can’t — no, I won’t. Have I forsaken the path?” Kiptcha whispered. She turned over, burying her tears in his chest. She couldn’t let him see it.

He put a hand on top of her head and gently stroked her hair. Every warrior broke. Every warrior tried to climb back up. They had to. But at least Aizen hadn’t seen this . . .

Grimmjow pulled her head up to face him again and she fought at first, tears staining her cheeks. They shone in the dim light that shone through the curtains, like a purity. She relaxed, and she closed her eyes. Her stresses melted away as she faded, leaving Grimmjow with her peacefully sleeping form.



Kiptcha awoke to find herself in the same position, except Grimmjow had turned on a light, propped himself up, and he was reading a book of some type. She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Today there wasn’t school, but she had still woken up before the dawn.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” he said, not taking his eyes off the pages.

“Good morrow to you as well,” Kiptcha said warily, smoothing down her hair a bit. It wasn’t tangled, but some of it stuck up at weird angles. She slipped out of the bed and headed towards the bathroom for a hot shower.

The door latched behind her and she undressed. The water felt good, washing away her stresses about completing her mission. Her resolve had returned, after being momentarily upset by Isredel’s kiss.

She stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry. With careful strokes, she combed her hair out and dried it with a provided hairdryer. Her hair in her gigai form was only a hindrance though, and a knife flashed out, cutting off almost all of it. She touched the back of her head, finding it so much different, but it was better. The problem she had faced earlier with her hair was completely gone. Even though it didn’t affect her arrancar form, she felt anxious. She did some more trimmimg to her bangs and she nodded in approval. She should so totally carry it over to arrancar form.

She walked out of the bathroom fully dressed, and she walked to the closet and she picked out different cloths, a knee-length white skirt, a black sash, a sports bra, and a long sleeved jacket of white as well. She changed in the closet and she stepped out, leaving the jacket open after it was below her white sports bra. It was her human version of her arrancar form.

Grimmjow looked up, and he gasped at her hair. “Why —?” he asked.

Kiptcha turned and strode to the door. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

“How much does it take to make you answer a question?” Grimmjow snarled.

“My hair is of no concern to you. It shouldn’t make a difference,” Kiptcha replied shortly. “You may stop masking your reiatsu, we need to draw the target out. And you can drop your gigai, unless you want to take it back to Hueco Mundo with us.”

“Have you given up on the persuasive idea already?”

“We’re good enough frieds, I suppose. He’ll understand, even if I have to carve it into his body with his own sword,” Kiptcha hissed, turning to face Grimmjow.



Isredel leapt out and up, using shun-po. He was heading towards the spot that his phone had reported a hollow. But he had felt its reiatsu change to a harsher from, that of an arrancar. He suddenly stopped on the top of a taller building to look out and spot his target.

Grimmjow looked up, and he saw Isredel. Kiptcha nodded, and the two walked out into a clear patch of green field, in plain sight. Grimmjow laughed, spotting the shinigami searching.

“No sense of direction!”

“No Grimmjow. He’s trying to get a step ahead by plotting out what’s around us. Look closer.”

Isredel finished his appraisal, and he leapt off in their direction. They had picked the worst spot for them to fight, as he couldn’t harm anyone else. But, he gritted his teeth and sailed into their trap.

“We can’t fight here,” Isredel said unhappily as he landed.

“Quite right,” Kiptcha agreed. “but we have the sky.”

“Get outta the way! A human like you will be killed!” Isredel warned.

“Killed? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Kiptcha laughed, as she drifted out of her gigai. She arranged nicely on the ground, like she had lain down. She pulled the collar up around her nose and she turned. There was a staccato of static, and she re-appeared behind Isredel. Kiptcha’s reiatsu had gone up and she seemed more at ease. “Grimmjow! Please open the garganta. We’ll be leaving soon, and I want it to be ready.”

Grimmjow nodded and flicked at the air. It opened, and Kiptcha smiled.

“Won’t you come with us, shinigami?” she asked Isredel plainly and straight forward.

Isredel laughed and he drew his zampaku-to. It wasn’t long, about normal actually, and it had a hilt made of metal as well. “Senkou! Raikou Kami!”
[Flash! Lightning God!]

“Put your zampaku-to down, shinigami. We have no use for it against us.”

“No, Kiptcha. You can’t tell me that,” Isredel whispered. “I’ll kill you!”

Kiptcha sidestepped his attack and in one clean movement, took both his sword and his scabbard away from him. After sheathing the sword she nodded to Grimmjow and walked toward the garganta.

Grimmjow followed with Isredel’s fighting form.

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