Chapter 5 - Trust Where None Should Be

Isredel found his confinement quite dull after some time, and he resigned himself to doing mindless fiddling. He tried to ignore the aching in his stomach, but it didn’t work. The arrancar girl who had come in that morning had asked him if he had wanted food, but he had refused. She had looked concerned, but she had nodded in understanding and left without any other conversation.

Kiptcha had accepted the report, it seemed, because she hadn’t been back. He vaguely remembered that she had his zampaku-to somewhere, but he couldn’t get out . . .

Isredel rolled over again on the floor, decidedly not using the provided chair. He glanced out the small window, and looked at the bright sun.



Kiptcha finished oiling Isredel’s sword and she placed it on a sword rack. Now the metal of the guard and blade shone like the power it possessed. She looked around her room, soon spotting Nastassiya standing in the doorway.

“Come in, Nastassiya. What is the shinigami’s condition?

“He is not eating, mistress. Would you like to go talk to him again?”

“No. Bring some tea here. And then fetch him here, we’ll talk here,” Kiptcha said quietly. “Then you are to keep everyone away from here. We’re to talk alone. There’s no way he can escape from Las Noches though so we should have no fear of that.”

The young female arrancar bowed and she left with her orders. Her strides were swift and she went about fulfilling her mistress’s wish.



Isredel was woken with a start as the same girl came in and walked up to him. He sat up and moved away.

“Now what?!” he cried in desperation.

“My mistress has given me my orders. You are to come with me,” Nastassiya said coldly. “Though I do not know why you would be of much interest to her, as you are so weak. And you call yourself a captain?!”

Isredel stood, and he shuddered in anger, but made no move to strike the girl. “I do. I wasn’t expecting her to attack.”

“It is my mistress’s way. She looks peaceful at times, but she’ll rip anyone to shreds if the cross her.”

Isredel nodded hesitantly, and he followed the girl out of his confinement and down a few corridors. He tried in vain to memorize the route, but he found that all the corridors met in exactly the same way, and here were no landmarks. He looked at the girl that led him, and he saw no hesitation in where she was heading. She walked forth without a second thought because she knew the corridors. He needed to persuade somebody like her to help him get out, or he’d be lost.

Nastassiya stopped as she reached a door and she turned. “Please enter. It will become clear to you what you must do once you enter. It has certainly been a pleasure to escort you.”

“You were told to say that, weren’t you?” Isredel asked.

“My mistress is very firm in her orders. I was asked to be respectful to you, even though without your zampaku-to you are no mach for any of those here.”

“Nastassiya!” a voice said sharply. It belonged to Kiptcha, but it sounded nothing like what she had while in the real world. Her speech was emotionless, to the point of unreality. “Now is no time to be chatting.”

The girl turned a bright shade of pink and she bowed to Isredel. Turning towards the door she started to apologize, “I’m terribly sorry mistress, it won’t —”

Isredel frowned and whacked the girl over the head, cutting her off. “I deal with her; just go do whatever you’re supposed to be doing . . . not that I’d know.”

Nastassiya looked at him for a sheer second before dashing off. Isredel watched her disappear from sight with a sigh and he opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit room. Kiptcha sat facing away from him as he walked in, and she seemed to be watching a candle flame. His sword was directly behind her, and a pot of tea sat between him and his zampaku-to.

“Won’t you close the door and sit down now?” Kiptcha asked softly, much different than before when she had commanded Nastassiya. It had a hint of emotion in it.

Isredel closed the door and walked closer to his zampaku-to wary for any trap that this might be.

“I also recall asking you to sit,” Kiptcha said stiffly, turning slightly so she could fix him with a piercing stare. Her spiritual pressure increased to an outrageously high point, and she was only dimly aware that she had just extinguished her candle.

Isredel increased his as well, competing with her for a moment. He finally gave in and sat down, his back altogether to upright and his face too taut.

“Relax. Have some tea, Res. It’s calming,” Kiptcha spoke, breaking the concentration of the reiatsu. She turned all the way around, looking tired all of a sudden.

“I’ll ask again. What do you want from me?” Isredel repeated, quoting himself.

“Something that you’ll find you probably would never give us. It is what we must have.”

“What is it?!”

“You must permit us to enter Seiretei and kill all of the shinigami. That is Aizen-sama’s wish.”

“Go to hell. It ain’t happening,” Isredel laughed. “You can’t expect me to do such a thing!”

“Are you hungry?”

“Don’t change the subject so fast, dog,” Isredel swore, becoming serious. He grabbed his zampaku-to and unsheathed it in a second, pointing the newly oiled blade at Kiptcha’s neck.

“Do it,” Kiptcha whispered. “If you do you can escape, return.”

Isredel hesitated. Her own zampaku-to was far enough away from her that she couldn’t reach it. It had all been done purposely. All planned out, because she knew it would play out this way. It was her strategy.

“I don’t want to die now, Res. I must live for Aizen-sama. I cannot allow you to kill me here.”

“Then why did you set it up in this way?!”

“I didn’t. It is the way things played out. I quite expected the reaction, but not as severe. Yet I am disappointed that you have not made a decision yet.”

Isredel sunk back, and her re-sheathed his sword. He gave no comment but anger. Kiptcha picked up her cup of tea and drank the sweet liquid. It calmed her somewhat, making her sleepy.

Isredel noticed the tea again, and picked up his as well, sipping it slowly. After a day without food it tasted great, and he drank the rest of his cup as well.

“May I have some food then?” he asked quietly, aware that Nastassiya had told him that Kiptcha had a short temper.

Kiptcha stood, walking over to her zampaku-to. Isredel tensed, but all she did was sling it over her shoulder and walk towards the door. She paused there, as Isredel was still sitting.

“Are you coming, or not?” she asked, sounding more like the self she had been in the real world.



Kiptcha stood above Isredel on a ledge. She had taken Isredel out of her quarters and showed him Las Noches. None of the Número dare contradict her, and none of the Espada had shown up.

“Why are you doing this?” Isredel asked finally.

Kiptcha sat down next to him, removing the long awkward sword. “I have my own reasons, as you can guess.” She paused. “Shall I tell you about the arrancar?”

Isredel looked over at her for an instant, and he seemed surprised. “Why would you share something like that?”

“You, yourself, do not have much knowledge about us. We are hollows that have gain shinigami powers, correct? But why do we serve Aizen-sama? Why don’t we go against Aizen-sama?”

Isredel was in disbelief. She knew exactly what he knew about the arrancar. “Yeah, something like that.”

“It goes both ways, my friend. Hollows can gain shinigami powers and shinigami can gain hollow powers,” Kiptcha said quietly. “You could become quite like us, just by gaining hollow powers. You would have to master them before your inner hollow devoured you.”

Isredel gasped at the thought. Him? Become a hollow?

Kiptcha continued, “We arrancar serve Aizen-sama because he is fearless. We do not always agree with him, but we are powerless against him. Not all of us like Aizen-sama. Even some of the Espada dislike him.

“The Espada are the top-ranked arrancar in Aizen-sama's army. Each Espada member is chosen for their superior combat ability and then assigned a number from 1 to 10 that indicates their rank and relative power level, which is tattooed somewhere on their body. We Espada are given control over the Números. Espada are the most powerful fighters of the arrancar and our strength far surpasses the average Número, similar to the power gap between the captains and lieutenants in Gotei 13.”

Isredel stared at Kiptcha for a brief second. “What number are you again?”

Kiptcha looked at him, and she leaned back exposing her tattooed number. The black number ‘4’ stood out starkly against her pale white skin. Isredel looked at it, unhappy.

“So you have three that are stronger than you? And your reiatsu is huge —”

Kiptcha ignored his comments and continued with the summary of the arrancar. “The Números are arrancar who were formerly menos. They are assigned a two-digit number at birth from 11 to 99 to indicate their age. The fighting ability of Números is thought to be superior to all other arrancar, except for the Espada, current and former.

“The Fracción are a subsection of the Números that directly serve a specific Espada. The number of Fracción for any given Espada varies, for example I have exactly 14. I’ve never seen any of Ulquiorra’s subordinates, though.

“The Privaron are former Espada who have lost their rank and are assigned a three-digit number. Being former Espada, they are far stronger than the normal Números. They reside in Tres Cifras.”

“So Espada can be kicked out?”

“Of course!” Kiptcha exclaimed. “If we lose limbs, die, or become obsolete, we are replaced. It is how it works.”

Isredel turned his head back to its forward position, and he slowly moved his right hand to the hilt of his zampaku-to. He drew it and the blade gleamed in the sunlight. “All I’d have to do is remove a limb, huh? And what would happen to you then? Would you still be my captor?”

“Ulquiorra would probably take care of you,” Kiptcha said with disdain. “And he’s far less forgiving when it comes to you not eating.”

Isredel tensed and he simultaneously unsheathed his sword and brought it around to the point where Kiptcha’s neck had been a second before. He looked over to find that she wasn’t there anymore. Instead, she was standing a short ways away. Her sword was hung across her back and she looked a bit upset.

“How —?” Isredel stuttered.

“Do you think I’m going to sit there?!” Kiptcha exploded. She drew her own zampaku-to and there was a brief static sound. Kiptcha reappeared behind Isredel, her katana aimed directly at the point in the spine where all the nerves are grouped closest — the top of the neck.

Isredel felt the tip of her blade against his skin and he tensed.

“I’m not going to kill you, idiot. Relax, you can be sure of your life – for now. However, you are in no position to strike at me. Please remember that. Even if you defeat me, there are three that are stronger, and they will kill you without the hesitation I have.”

Isredel re-sheathed his katana, and he slowly stood, aware that the sword moved with him. He then turned, and looked at Kiptcha. She held her long katana perfectly still. “Quite a lot of speed you’ve got there, Kipt. Lower your sword, and we’ll talk.”

“Talk? We’ll talk about what? And what could you possibly do? I don’t need my sword to beat you at your present state. Don’t joke with me!” Kiptcha laughed.



Kiptcha awoke in her own quarters. She leapt to her feet in surprise, then seeing Isredel sitting behind her. She whirled, not finding any weapons close by. Her head flicked around, observing everything.

Both zampaku-to s were placed it the katana stand across the room. Nastassiya sat by them, a grim look on her face. Kiptcha felt her face flush when she realized what must have happened.

“Did I fall asleep?” she mumbled, turning to Isredel.

He nodded, and he glanced over to Nastassiya. “She had a fit when she realized you’d been asleep with no protection and me for over two hours.”

“My god —,” Kiptcha whispered.



Kiptcha woke up, startled to find that waking up the first time had been a dream. She sat up and rubbed her eyes clear of sleep. She then realized that she was still outside. Which meant—!

Isredel placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

Kiptcha jumped and she leapt to her feet with speed and accuracy. Her zampaku-to lay in front of her feet, and she hurriedly reached to grab it.

“Woah, Kipt. Calm down!” Isredel commanded, jumping and grabbing his own katana hilt. Kiptcha sprang, and he dodged, blocking the attack with his sword still in its scabbard.

Kiptcha touched the ground only briefly, launching another attack. Her eyes were cloudy, and she seemed to be in a mode that did not allow any individual thought. Was she still asleep? No, she was in a bloodlust. All she wanted to do right now would be to kill. She had to be stopped . . .

Isredel unsheathed his sword and carefully calculated what she was going to do.

Blood dripped from Kiptcha’s left cheek, and she felt the searing pain that accompanied blood. She regained her grasp on reality, and she turned slowly, sensing Isredel. She blinked and stowed her zampaku-to on her back.

“What just happened, Res?” she asked quietly. “Did I fall asleep on you? I don’t remember— anything about it. How long was I asleep?”

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