overgrownoverture03: her mercy/his faith

“You lie. You know you lie,” Nabill said. 

He could see it in her eyes; anyone could. But she wasn’t what she hoped she was. With a quick flourish Nabill sheathed his swords and turned fully to face her. “You are a hollow, and above that, an espada. The Tercera. The third deadliest, though deadly is putting it lightly.” 

Nabill was gone, appearing again beside a massive boulder. He ripped it from the ground and heaved it through the air, uncovering the remnants of Faust’s work. The hollow’s original shape was gone. Grey plants had disfigured it to the point that it seemed to be just a white mask resting in a bed of flowers. They writhed and stretched towards Nabill, hungering for a taste of his spiritual strength. 

“You don’t kill. You maim and you spare, leaving your victims a husk. Then you kill. You are a monster, just like me. Just like Luucio.” Nabill’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you deny yourself and say that you do these acts for another, Tercera?” 

“Darkness? You sell yourself short, Faust.” Nabill drew one of his slender katana at that and nudged the plants in her hands with it. “We were born from the darkness. We return to it when we die. I was mindless. You were mindless. Luucio was mindless. Now we are not. 

“You think because we kill that we will fall to the darkness? I spit at that. We are death itself, Tercera. We are the faith to kill. The arrogance to do it. The pride to live to do it some more. The mercy to take pleasure in it.” 

Nabill moved his katana slightly then. He brought up to her face, moved back a bang, and dragged the tip along her cheek, birthing a thin red line. “The darkness would take you if I pressed this sword into your temple. It would not take you if you pressed it into mine.” 

And with that he sheathed his blade again. Nabill rolled his shoulders and turned from her and out towards the ruin. For some reason, he felt aroused. “Is there a place to wash myself, Tercera?” 

It was a beautiful place, one fitting for the Tercera Espada. The cove reminded Nabill in many ways of his own den back in the Zona. To him, this again proved that Anneliese never truly forgot what she was. Like the hollow of the desert she found a place to rest from the yawning chaos outside. The idea caused his lips to twitch into a brief, faint smile. 

“I trust they won’t easily sense us, either,” Nabill asked. 

His eyes focused in on her as she stripped. Covered in blood, Nabill found that Anneliese was more beautiful than ever. His arousal pulsed, as did his desire to clean himself. Just as she did, the Primera too laid down his swords and stripped down to the nude. When he stepped into the water, the cold shock it sent through him did little to lower his arousal. 

For a moment, he completely submerged himself. When he came back up he was in front of Anneliese. He was so close that his breath, frosted in the chilled cavern air, brushed against her face. A single hand moved underneath the surface of the water to circle the hole in her stomach. 

“Have you ever thought of why an arrancar’s soul is incomplete where it is?” 

Nabill reached his left hand up to grasp her right. He moved it down his side, past his waist, and to his thigh. There he placed her hand on the hole in his soul, just as his was on hers. 

“This is the place where we suffered the wound that killed us.” The Primera’s lips lowered to her ear. “It is the reason we are who we are.” 

---

 

Nanashi had went by a lot of names during his travels. Now he only called himself Nanashi. One day a man he had stabbed asked him why this was. Nanashi couldn’t think of a good answer. It just made the most sense that he, who had traveled all of japan, and that had killed so many samurai, would be known as “No Name”. Then he stabbed the man again and moved on with his life. 

Ever since birth, Nanashi had been this way. He couldn’t place any faith in titles or names. His parents failed him at an early age and left him to die. The highwaymen who adopted him failed him when they got caught and were executed. The samurai that challenged him and tried to arrest him failed when they died to his sword. Again and again everyone fell short of his expectations. Nanashi found no reason to place his faith into anyone or anything. And he, who he perceived as broken because he had no faith, also placed none into himself. 

“Until I met you,” Nanashi said. 

The wound in his leg had began to fester. The arrow that had wounded him had either been poisoned or cursed. Nanshi just attributed it to the demons that had shot him. These Quincy, as they had called themselves, had been hired by the Shogun to find finally put an end to the trail of bodies he was creating. Nanashi had welcomed the challenge. 

Akari had not. 

She seemed peaceful in death. An arrow through the throat, stomach, and right knee had ended her life. Nanashi had built her a funeral pyre and laid her on it, hands crossed. The body smelled of decay, and the draining fluids had forced her lips up into a smile. 

“When I first met you, I thought you were a demon too,” Nanashi continued. He lifted his torch through the air, allowing the firelight to cast back the night’s shadows. “Your powers were pretty crazy. Both on the battlefield and in bed, eh?” 

Nanashi chuckled at that. He pushed back Akari’s hair and took one last look at her face. He could still remember the warmth that filled him when he touched her. Now his hands knew only cold. 

“You were beautiful. Strong. You even gave me a name.” But that name is dead. 

The pyre was ignited, and Nanashi stepped away from the consumed body. In the distance he heard a roar. His hands went to the swords at his waist and loosened them in their scabbards. A pulse of pain washed through him, born from his festering wound. 

“Good bye, Akari. I’ll find you, no matter what life you reincarnate into next.” 

---

 

Nabill’s eyes opened, awoken by the smell of flowers. He sat up, back stiff. For once, his desires felt fulfilled. It was strange. His body ached from being with Anneliese for what felt like days, but it was a good ache. When he stood, he felt complete. 

That dream. Nabill closed his eyes and remembered the distant, broken memories of his human death. It had happened so long ago that he had forgotten most of the other details. All he could remember was those last few moments, and the host of emotions he felt beforehand. I have found her again. 

The Primera looked down on the sleeping Anneliese. She looked like Akari in almost every way. It was foolish to think that she was his old lover, but he found that no longer mattered. Together, both espada had filled a second hole in their souls. Once political opposites, Nabill now found that he had allowed himself to become enwrapped with the Tercera. I do not regret this. He had faith that his thoughts were true. 

Before waking her, Nabill dressed himself. His desires could have allowed him to indulge himself in her for another few days, but they both had responsibilities. Even with that ruin obliterated, there were still rumors of the Hohlreich they had to hunt down and destroy. Once he was fully dressed and his swords re-equipped, he nudged her gently with his boot to wake her.