Contending Sands

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Forever night, a barren wasteland of nothing but sand, and heartless souls. Across its dunes, only the occasional wind moved, betraying any sign that this world indeed held some semblance of "life". Currently, however, three souls were marching across the marble-white sand, a destination clearly in mind.

A young man accompanied by two women half his height. All three were dressed in clothes that simply looked out of place for Hueco Mundo regardless of the timeframe - in Baraggan Louisenbairn's time, a Hollow or Arrancar's clothing could be decribed as suiting that of a barbarian, and in the time of Sōsuke Aizen, his army had adopted clothing that was modified based on the Japanese.

These souls, however, wore outfits that were nothing like this. The young man, with long brown hair, and a stark white mask, wore thick-woven attire, blue in colour, with brown boots. At his side, he bore a katana. The two women, one pale, and one tan, but both white haired, wore outfits more befitting of exotic dancers. They had no weapons.

They were Menos-class Arrancar, the higher-end of the Hollow-evolution ladder. And they carried themselves as such.

"Have you not reconsidered?"

The pale woman spoke, her voice soft, pitched like bells, "He's hardly one to entertain a guest."

"I think we should simply be more honest," said the tan one, her voice lower, rougher, "He doesn't like you."

"He hardly cares for anyone," replied Arrancar who resembled a young man. His voice was deep, but steady, and he spoke carefully. "I can't say I'm going expecting the best, but now is as good a time as any. Shunsui Kyōraku willingly attended an audience with me, and accepted my terms. Now, it's time to see if one of our own kind is open to reason."

"We do not approve."

"We cannot approve."

Both spoke with the sternness of a mother reprimanding a child, and male Arrancar simply sighed.

"These are the steps I must take, if I am going to lead Hueco Mundo into a new age."

The three continued their slow march. In Hueco Mundo, where time did not seem to exist, the concept of "day" and "night" were foreign. Outside of the canopy of the former Las Noches, sunlight did not reach. That was a fact that never bothered a denizen here, as many Hollows operated at best in the dark. It was therefore shocking when the sky - which had been the pitch of black mere moments before - exploded into a sea of red.

To a human, it may have resembled the evening, and some memory in the Menos' minds, centuries ago, recalled the images of blazing sunsets.

"This reiatsu..." muttered one.

"Twisted even among Hollows..." muttered the other.

"How fitting he would choose a place like this to build his dwelling," muttered the young man. Towering over him, even in the distance, was a horrifying castle, a blood crimson against a blazing fire of a sky. Aaronn Ekaraell stared into the distance, before breathing in the reishi-rich air of Hueco Mundo.

"I bet he knows we're coming to call."

"He does."

A young girl was standing in the sand behind them. Where she had come from was not immediately certain. She was an Arrancar, like the strangers, but couldn't have been a day older than twelve, such was her stature. She regarded the newcomers with an empty stare, leaving them squirm in the uneasy silence that passed between them for a moment as she sized them up.

Then, she said, "We should not keep him waiting. Come."

The girl was on the other side of them in the next blink, casually strolling through the dunes towards the castle's entrance. When she was no more than a few paces away from the entrance, the gargantuan doors creaked open, seemingly on their own. She ushered them inside, silent as a wraith. Always watching, but she voiced none of what she thought.

The halls of her master's castle were grandiose. Too grandiose considering how empty they were. Hundreds of Hollows called Las Tardes home, but none of them were around now. Perhaps they sensed the tension in the air, their master's irritation. Perhaps they had simply gone out to feed. Neither of these things were her concern. Her job was over the second her master's throne came into sight. Then, she was gone as quickly as she had come, reappearing alongside Sangra's throne.

The great Hollow was the spitting image of Baraggan Louisenbairn, save for the faint remnants of muscle knotting together the bones of his chest and upper body. But the expression he wore bore none of the king's usual boredom. He watched the newcomers like a predator, waiting for them to settle in before speaking.

"We do not usually receive guests this far out in the dunes," he said, voice booming through his hall. "Those who know we are here are smart enough to stay away. Those who don't, those who are unlucky enough to stumble upon us by accident, usually become a meal." Sangra leaned forward in his chair of bone. "You are neither of those, and yet here you stand. What purpose have you in my home?"

The interior of Sangra's castle was, if anything what they expected. It followed the tastes of one such as Sangra, who was the epitome of what it meant to be a Hollow. Aaronn and his company were far less fazed than one who had entered unprepared would be.

Aaronn's two attendants made to speak before Aaronn could, but he shook his head. A small smile crept over his face, and the Arrancar stepped forward. There was no hesitation in his step, and it was clear that this was something Sangra was not used to seeing. Based on his words, the company of strangers, specifically those whose confidence did not fold with mere reiatsu, was a foreign concept to Sangra.

"Sangra, greetings," Aaronn spoke calmly, looking Sangra directly in where his eyes should be. "Depending on your point of view, I've come here for the sake of peace. I've met you before, centuries ago, back when I was masked. We didn't see eye-to-eye back then, but I am hoping you're willing to turn an ear to my words now."

The twin Arrancar felt that Aaronn's words were already wasted, yet they held their tongues. Their eyes, as unreadable as the young woman who found herself at Sangra's side, watched everything with intent.

"You bear a familiar stench," Sangra admitted, leaning back into the comfort of his chair. "But I do not recognize you, and your offering of peace strikes me as odd considering we are not yet at war. Unless you've come here to change that."

Sangra bristled at the Arrancar's tone. He was polite, calm even. The last man to speak to him in this manner was Sōsuke Aizen. The Shinigami had tried his best to rope Sangra into the ranks of his army, but a Vasto Lorde bowed to no one but his own whims. He had received validation when Aizen was defeated, and again when the princess of the dunes, Tier Harribel, had tried to proclaim herself "queen" and failed. Hueco Mundo could never be tamed, and yet, this visitor stank of someone who wished to try again.

At his side, the young Arrancar from earlier turned slightly toward him and he leaned into her as if lending her his ear. She was no ordinary Arrancar. A mute, she did not speak as men did. She spoke with her mind, and her master heard her.

"Mina, here, tells me your companions warned you against coming here," Sangra continued, amused by what he had just learned. "So, you wish to speak with me? Then speak. Tell me why you ignore the wisdom of your advisors. Tell me why you walk into a stranger's home with offerings of peace not yet broken."

"The little one spies," said the fair-skinned one.

"Scurrying about the sands, and keeping tabs on our Aaronn," said the tanned one.

"Tinelra, Hanelri, it is within his rights to monitor the area around his fortress," replied Aaronn, his gaze still fixed ever upward the Hollow. Only the slightest rustling in his reiatsu conveyed the change that Aaronn had been most hoping to avoid: hostility. To many of their kind, words were nothing more than useless gestures. Sangra, though he had entertained him thus far, was rapidly losing patience.

"As you say," nodded Hanelri.

"El Dios is much the same," Tinelra added.

"I come speaking of peace, Sangra, as much as I come speaking of war," Aaronn said simply. "I spoke recently, you see, with the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, Shunsui Kyōraku. In regards to the potential of an alliance between the Hollows of Hueco Mundo, and the Shinigami of the Gotei 13."

At this, Sangra reeled back in disgust. "That would explain the stench. You not only imitate a Shinigami, you've gone to bed with them, as well."

He couldn't help it. His own Reiatsu rose to meet his visitor's, cracking the tile beneath their feet. Both were barely wielding a fraction of their power, but the intent was plain. This stranger, Aaronn, was serious. And he would enforce his views with violence, if need be. A commendable notion, were it not tainted by an offer of peace between Shinigami and Hollows.

"Might I remind you that our kinds can never be allies?" Sangra continued. "The Shinigami kill and purify us, and we hunt and eat them like livestock. Such has been the cycle since the three worlds first split from each other eons ago. Would you so willingly part with your Hollow instincts? What could be worth such a sacrifice?"

"Do you see your existence as the only kind worth living?" Hanelri, once again, chimed in, not shying away from sharing her thoughts even in the presence of Sangra's growing reiatsu. Perhaps she was simply that confident in Aaronn.

"There are Hollows who crave more than meals...more than souls..." Tinelra added. "And many of us spend centuries wandering the desert...until we find the something we do need." At this, she smiled in Aaronn's direction, though he was focusing the entirety of his attention on Sangra now.

Aaronn sighed. "To be perfectly honest, I had hoped we could discuss this over drinks." This wasn't a lie; he had prepared refreshments that Tinelra and Hanelri could have retrieved in moments had Sangra proved hospitable. But it appeared amenities would not be supplied by either party. "I believe Tier Harribel, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck have proven with their actions in the war against the Quincy that Shinigami are capable of working alongside Arrancar."

He knew this statement alone was not enough to refute what Sangra was saying. After all, did they not prey on the sentient not for the sake of food, but for their own satisfaction? To quell the disquiet in their souls? But a Hollow who had found meaning in an existence here in this barren desert...they certainly could learn to quiet their own souls.

"I did not part with my Hollow instincts. I grew beyond them." He placed a thin hand on the alabaster fragment that rested upon his face. "I shattered my mask, and became an Arrancar. Shunsui Kyōraku and I believe it is possible to reach an agreement; he's a shrewd man, but Soul Society is still recovering. They do not seek further war with Hueco Mundo, and now is the time - while Soul Society is not targeting us, begin to move forward.

I've already begun meeting with likeminded Arrancar and Hollows - Nelliel Tu among them - to join my faction. The Santo Velo will bring order to Hueco Mundo, and serve to protect it from a future threat like the Wandenreich, who ran roughshod over our sands. I do not wish to make an enemy of you, Sangra, and that is why you find me in your court today — to offer you this chance to walk with us, towards the future."

Aaronn's words hung in the air like a guillotine as everyone waited to see what the Vasto Lorde would do, what he would say. For his part, Sangra was content to lounge on his throne a moment longer, skull-like mask hiding the fury growing within him. A Hollow's instinct could not be grown beyond. Some elected to ignore them, but Sangra was millions of years old. He was a body composed of an equal number of souls, all hungering for more to join their ranks. The way it had always been, the way it should be.

"Hollows are the ultimate expression of evolution," Sangra said, a deadly calm in his voice. "The weak feed the strong, and so the strong get stronger. This is not just the story of our world. It is *my* story. *Our* story. You stand in front of me as you are because thousands of souls gave their power to you, only for you to come before me and demand I turn away from eons of Hollow instinct in the name of breaking bread with the Shinigami."

Sangra stood, now, and a growl echoed from somewhere above the conversation's participants. He let his Reiatsu rise freely, untethered by the restraint he'd shown until now. It erupted from him like hair free of its braid, cracking walls, shaking pillars, until Sangra's domain was full of his power. A sickle materialized in his hand.

"I will not do this thing. And since you have shown such contempt for the Hollow's way of life, I will relieve you of the power that way of life has gifted you."

Mina vanished. When her master was this agitated, she knew better than to be at his side. But she wasn't far. Her master was not the ruler Aaronn wanted to be, but he was not without the help of followers of his own, should he need them. For now, Sangra stood alone to his full, towering height.

The challenge hanging in the air.

### Act II: Dance with Death

"You intend to do violence by me and my benefactors, then?" inquired Aaronn. He reached to his side, passing over the katana that was strapped there. Instead, gripped firmly in a pale hand, was a beautiful tessen, made seemingly of a bone-like material, but it shone like metal. "I had a higher opinion of you than that. You fancy yourself a King, yet you cannot entertain the notion of different viewpoints. Unless..."

Aaronn paused, brown eyes staring into soulless sockets.

"Could it be...that you fear Shinigamification?" The Arrancar spoke the words slowly, loading each one like a bullet into a revolver. "You, a Hollow who was once feared throughout the sands of Hueco Mundo alongside the likes of Baraggan Louisenbairn himself...hold the fear of becoming more like a Shinigami close to your heart?"

The chuckle that escaped from what passed for Sangra's throat was dry, unhumorous. "What interest have I in obtaining the power of a lesser species? A predator does not imitate its prey."

The great Hollow stepped away from his throne, his foot landing on the first step down from his pedestal. "We Hollows have tried government. Then the first king knelt to a Shinigami, and everything went to shit. At least those miserable failures killed a few people before they croaked. Their souls warmed my belly. But you… Your goal is not death. It's order. And I cannot have that. Order is the death of anarchy. And anarchy is the great soup that keeps me from starving."

A flicker of movement…

Sangra reappeared behind his enemy, his sickle already in motion like the hand of a clock. It had been so long since Sangra had to draw blood himself. He had forgotten the thrill. Had forgotten how the promise of battle excited his Reiatsu. Maybe after this he would go on another spree. What was another hundred souls to a Hollow who had lived a million years? Aaronn's soul would make a nice start.

The scent of Sangra's reiatsu vanished in that moment. To say Aaronn was surprised would be an understatement. Sonído was the technique of Arrancar, and Aaronn had never met a Hollow who could make those same steps. It was perhaps the fact that the scent of his attendants was obscured the moment Sangra appeared behind him that instructed Aaronn to pivot, turning sharply on his heel.

A clanging sound, the clash of metal on metal, rang throughout the throne room. Aaronn had brought his tessen upwards at the end of his successful spin, the flat-side of the metallic fan meeting the bladed end of the scythe. The force of the two opponents, Arrancar and Hollow, repulsed each other, but Aaronn felt the vibrations extending from his tessen down throughout his body, to the soles of his feet.

*Sangra isn't one for boasts. His power is real.*

"Tinelra! Hanelri! Keep some distance!" Aaronn called to the two Arrancar who now found themselves separated from Aaronn, behind the back of Sangra.

"When does a son know better than his mother?" inquired Hanelri, indignant.

"A child should not lecture his parent so soon," added Tinelra, equally incensed.

"I seem to be making an enemy of everyone today," the exasperated Aaronn sighed.

Aaronn kept his eyes firmly locked on Sangra. He didn't know what abilities this man was capable of, though that wasn't to his own discredit. He'd come here with a deficit of research purely because Sangra was good at keeping his own secrets. Baraggan had paraded his power, the feared Respira during his time as King and during his service to Sōsuke Aizen.

Sangra, by contrast, was an enigma who did not share his strength with those who could become enemies. And Aaronn most certainly had become that.

"You should have heeded your own advice." Sangra's voice was a rasp, as though it were coming through a decaying throat. He kept up the bladelock with one hand, and with his other, reached out to grab the Arrancar's shirt.

A violet **Cero** was already forming in front of his mouth. There were merits to using his other powers, but Sangra liked to keep his secrets close to him, only using what was hiding up his sleeves when the moment demanded it. He had sensed the difference in strength the moment his and Aaronn's blades clashed. Until his enemy's sword was released, he didn't need to reveal too much of his power. Standard Hollow powers would do for now.

He vomited the **Cero** out of his mouth, its girth wide in case Aaronn somehow managed to break their layered lock and flee; but also to encourage those sirens to stay back lest they get caught in the blast too. Sangra's **Cero** was not one to underestimate. The Vasto Lorde never fired a warning shot. Every move he made was to kill.

The swelling surge of reiatsu was familiar to anyone who could use Hollow powers. Aaronn and the twins recognized the familiar build-up of the **Cero**.

At the instant the **Cero** impacted, an explosion triggered, filling the castle hall with light and sound. From within the smoke, Aaronn leapt backwards, having freed himself from Sangra's grasp and survived the Cero through unknown means. The unknown, however, quickly became known; remnants of cyan reiatsu were crackling around both of Aaronn's hands, extending to cover the tessen he held.

**Bala**, the weaker cousin of the **Cero**. Faster, yet packing less power.

However, also far denser. This held the key to Aaronn's survival: the Arrancar had targeted the wrists of Sangra, as well as the incoming **Cero**, releasing quick shots of **Bala** to weaken Sangra's grasp as well as deaden the power of the **Cero** before it hit, the exploding Bala thwarting much of the blow. His **Hierro** had done the rest.

"He is on the backfoot," muttered Tinelra.

"But this is what he wanted," added Hanelri. "With such a humanoid form, he is certainly weaker than Sangra."

"For someone who entertained the notion of a dialogue for so long, you're quick to violence," Aaronn said, dusting himself off in an attempt to downplay his narrow survival. "I would like to believe everyone has a reason for why they fight...but can yours be as shallow as eating for the sake of eating? Is that monotonous an existence one you are comfortable with?" He brandished the tessen in Sangra's direction. "Can you see nothing beyond your own satisfaction?"

"Do I need another reason?" Sangra replied as the smoke receded. His bony wrists bore the black residue of Aaronn's **Bala**, but nothing more. "You may have grown beyond your Hollow self, or perhaps you've simply locked it away. But I wonder about your new friends, the Shinigami. Have they grown beyond themselves? Do you imagine they will cease hunting Hollows because you shook their hands? No. Your stupidity will only give them the opening they've long waited for."

The smoke finished clearing, and in Sangra's hand sparked the remnants of Aaronn's **Reiatsu**. The Hollow lifted the energy to his mouth and dropped it in like a grape. The moment he swallowed, flashes of memory invaded his mind. Knowledge, emotions, bits of Aaronn's life. Not much. There wasn't enough **Reiatsu** to give him his enemy's life story, but there *was* enough for a new surprise.

His arm fell to his side, fingers crackling with his own energy. "This is the end of our dialogue. Flee, or become my meal."

The technique was easy, as if he'd known it for decades. Sangra curled his finger bones into a fist and punched with blinding speed. The spiritual energy he'd gathered was unlike the **Cero** before, hard like iron, and impossibly fast. A **Bala**, another Arrancar technique. Another trophy, this one aimed at Aaronn's chest.

Aaronn's eyes widened in shock. Too many thoughts were racing through his head at once, and the Arrancar was unable to properly react. In the next second, an explosion shook the ground beneath their feet; dust fell from the ceiling, and Aaronn was once again covered up in the aftermath of a spiritual attack.

Silence followed the bang; Aaronn marched out of the cloud of dust and debris, the sleeve of his outfit burned away entirely, and his arm suffering from a burn as he'd used it to block the brunt of the blow. The tessen it held, however, was uninjured in a way that his body could only ask for.

The shock had passed, but what Aaronn had seen was burned firmly in his mind. Sangra was able to acquire abilities through consuming the reiatsu of target. In his quick bid for survival, rather than relying on his sturdy **Hierro** - which even here, had protected him from the bulk of what was essentially his own **Bala** - he had given Sangra a new ability.

*Is there a hard limit to that ability? Can he only consume the strengths of other Hollows?*

Trying to analyze Sangra's ability, Aaronn came to the realisation that, should Sangra choose to continue their battle, he would have to release. A hand fingered the hilt of the Zanpakutō, almost in consideration. His eyes fixed on Sangra behind his mask, blue reiatsu began to waft from his body, causing the castle to rumble beneath its pressure.

A thought.

A consideration.

Then he reeled it all back.

Aaronn moved, slipping through the spiritual senses of the Hollow, and using that moment to cross the distance behind him, reaching his retainers. He turned to face Sangra, his eyes full of something resembling pity.

"I won't deny you have a point," Aaronn spoke steadily. His hand had shifted from his Zanpakutō to the shoulder of Hanelri, firmly gripping it, steadying himself. He slowly returned his tessen to its resting place beside his katana. "Shunsui Kyōraku gave me his word, but a verbal agreement is only as good as the person themelves."

Hanelri and Tinelra eyed Aaronn curiously. They kept their thoughts back for the moment, allowing him to speak to Sangra.

"However...there are Hollows who seek something more. We all were originally human, after all. By becoming Arrancar, we've regained some of that humanity again, and I believe we can meet the Shinigami halfway as rational, thinking beings." Aaronn smiled in spite of himself, and it was an expression full of hope for the future. "Even if something happens that turns Soul Society upside down, I will not stop advocating for peace between Hollows and Shinigami." He turned his back on Sangra, and began to make his way to the exit.

The twin Arrancar bowed slowly, speaking deliberately and in unison.

"Thank you for receiving our son. We appreciate your boundless hospitality."

They turned to follow.

Sangra flexed the muscles of his arm as he watched the intruders in his home begin to leave. His mind was not on the naïveté of Aaronn's words, nor in the subtle sarcasm of his twin "mothers," but rather in the brief flicker of power he had felt before his challenger conceded. A flurry of emotions rose in him like a cacophony of voices. Excitement was perhaps the loudest among them. Millennia had gone by since Sangra had last felt a power similar to his own. Most of the Hollows who wandered into his den thought themselves powerful enough to challenge him, only to end up as his dinner.

The Arrancar were worse.

So pompous, as if the sword at their hips really made all that much of a difference. But Aaronn was different enough. When he touched the hilt of his blade, Sangra had felt the power he was hiding. It was infuriating to think all that power was hiding behind such a Human face, and that its wielder had been too cowardly to use it. The thrill of their battle would have been well worth the roof repairs.

A sneer crossed the Hollow's skull-like face. "The Shinigami cannot be trusted. When they've used your pacifism to recover their strength, they'll resume hunting us and cast you aside like the Arrancar trash you are. Then you'll be back. Maybe this year, maybe in a dozen. It matters not. I have the patience of eons. I have watched the sands of Hueco Mundo take shape, and I will watch you return to me on your hands and knees begging for my help." It felt satisfying to say. "Until then, *Shinigami*."

Aaronn, Hanelri, and Tinelra were surprised to have made it outside of Las Tardes relatively unscathed. The pale white dunes of Hueco Mundo, stretching far into the horizon, filled their vision once again. Scarlet sky melded seamlessly into pitch black, and the three Arrancar turned to lay their eyes on the castle which they had barely put behind them.

"We did tell you," said one.

"Indeed we did," said the other.

"You did," supplied Aaronn, laughing as he ran his hand through his hair. "However..."

"You were considering releasing, weren't you?" Hanelri's eyes rested on the blade that hung from Aaronn's hip.

"Reassuming your Hollow form to lay waste to that castle," added Tinelra.

"For a moment, I truly let the thought cross my mind," Aaronn admitted. "Sangra...he is too dangerous to leave alive for long. I felt it while we were fighting. He will become stronger than this, if we leave him be for too much...and everything we're working to build, Sangra will come and destroy."

"What will you do, then?" Tinelra asked. She walked over to Aaronn, placing a thin hand on his Zanpakutō. "Had you released, you could have won. We were here. You were not alone."

"Did you believe we would be unable to lend you a hand?" Hanelri put on a show of indignation.

Aaronn shook his head. "No, that isn't the case. But only a fool continues to engage in a battle he knows he may not win when another option presents itself." The Arrancar's eyes narrowed, taking in the entirety of the castle into his vision. "There is no shame in surviving to plan for the next stage...and when the time comes, before I have brought Hueco Mundo together...I will cut Sangra down. As a Shinigami, if he so considers me one."

And so through the sands, the unlikely trio began to walk again. The goal of imposing order upon disorder was not one that could be undertaken so easily. All three of them knew the path they chose to walk would end in blood.

Whether it would be his, or Sangra's, painting the end of it all.

Aaronn sighed heavily.

"Let's start by finding more allies."